"I think we ought to break away from the notion that a man has got to be either all angel or all devil. Jeffard's a human man, like the rest of us. He's done some good things that I know of,--and one pretty bad one; and it's the bad one that is setting the pace for him just now. But, as I once said to Lansdale, I'm betting on the finish. One bad curve needn't spoil a whole railroad." Myra's hand sought and found his under cover of her wrap. "You are loyalty itself, Dick, and I can't help loving you for it. But you say 'one bad one.' Have you forgotten the Irish girl?" Dick set his jaw at that, and the big hand closed firmly over the small one. "When I have to believe that of him, Myra, my faith in my kind will drop back more notches than one. That would make him all devil, don't you see?" But her charity outran his. "No, Dick; I don't quite see it. It is just one more coil in the puzzle-tangle of good and evil that you spoke of. Connie knows it, and if she can find it in her heart to forgive him"-- There was reverent awe in Bartrow's rejoinder. "Do you mean to say she'd forgive him--_that_?" The intermittent clatter and roar of the canyon climb had begun, and in one of the breathing spaces Myra made answer. "She is one of God's little ones, as Mr. Lansdale said. I think she would forgive him even that." And in the next gap in the clamor, "Did you tell him about Garvin?" Dick shook his head. "No, I didn't dare to. It's a hard thing to say, but I'm not sure he wouldn't prosecute Jim for the attempt to kill. There's no such vindictiveness in the world as that which dates back to benefits forgot. But I told Lansdale, and gave him leave to make use of it if the time should ever come when he could do it without jeopardizing Garvin." At which Myra's charity stumbled and fell and ran no more. "That time will never come, Dick. Mr. Jeffard has a double feud with Garvin,--he is Garvin's debtor for benefits forgot, as you say; and he has done Garvin an injury. I am glad you didn't tell him." CHAPTER XXXI "SHE'S gone to her rest, at last, poor soul, and it's happy she'd be if it wasn't for the childer." Constance had been waiting through the long hours of the afternoon for Margaret's return from Owen David's shanty on the North Side; waiting for the summons to the death-bed of the mother of Owen David's children. She had promised to go, wherefore her heart smote her and the ready tears welled up at Margaret's announcement. "Oh, Margaret! Why didn't you come for me!" "'Twas no use at all, Miss Constance; 'twas her last word she said to you this morning, when she asked you to try once more with Owen for the childer's sake. When you'd gone she turned her face to the wall, and we never knew when her soul went out." "Was Owen there?" "He was; and it's sober he was for the first time in many a day. He took it hard; them Welsh are flighty people, anyway."