"D----n you!" he cried, his finger tightening on the trigger of the Colt which for so many years had been his best friend. "I know you now, changed as you are! Now I know why you have been so determined for my death. On the day that I cut my father down I swore that I would kill the man who had lynched him if kind fate let me find him, and I have found him. You have just five minutes to live, so make the most of it, you cowardly murderer!" Tex's face went suddenly white again and his nerve deserted him. His Colt was in his hand, but oh, so useless! Should he fight to the end? A shudder ran through him at the thought, for life was so good, so precious; far too precious to waste a minute of it by dying before his time was up. Perhaps the foreman would relent, perhaps he would become so wrapped up in the memories of the years gone by as to forget, just for half a second, where he was. The watch in The Orphan's hand gave him hope, for he would wait until the other glanced at it--that would be his only hope of life. The foreman's watch ticked loudly in the palm of his left hand and the Colt in his right never quivered. The first minute passed in terrifying silence, then the second, then the third, but all the time The Orphan's eyes stared steadily at the man before him, gray, cruel, unblinking. "They told me to do it! They told me to do it!" shrieked the pitiful, unnerved wreck of a man as he convulsively opened and shut his hand. "I didn't want to do it! I swear I didn't want to do it! As God is above, I didn't want to! They made me, they made me!" he cried, his words swiftly becoming an unintelligible jumble of meaningless sounds. He stared at the black muzzle of the Colt, frozen by terror, fascinated by horror and deadened by despair. The watch ticked on in maddening noise, for his every sense was now most acute, beating in upon his brain like the strokes of a hammer. Then the foreman glanced quickly at it. The gun in Tex's hand leaped up, but not quickly enough, and a spurt of smoke enveloped his face as he fell. The Orphan stepped back, dropping the Colt into its holster. [Illustration: "The Orphan stepped back a pace and dropped the Colt into its holster." (_See page_ 390.)] "The courage of despair!" he whispered. "But I'm glad he died game," he slowly added. Then he suddenly buried his face in his hands: "Helen!" he cried. "Helen--forgive me!" CHAPTER XXIII THE GREAT HAPPINESS The town was rapidly losing sharpness of detail, for the straggling buildings were becoming more and more blurred and were growing into sharp silhouettes in the increasing dusk, and the sickly yellow lights were growing more numerous in the scattered windows.