"I've killed Mary," he said. His face was stained with the dust of the road and the tears he shed channelled the dirt. He looked dreadful, ludicrous, pathetic, hideously comic. "I--I killed her with a shovel. She was a good woman to me, and I got mad with drink. I'll never touch it again." He looked eagerly towards the bottle on the table. He had taken some more when the others were out of the room. "I've killed her, and they'll hang me, Jenny! Where's George gone?" The tears ran down Jenny's face. "He's gone to get someone to take you away, Mr. Ned!" They might come any moment and take him away! There was quite a big jail in the City. "I--I saw Pete this morning, no, yesterday. I don't know when," said Ned. "When did you come here, Jenny?" Jenny said it was long ago. She dried her tears for shame was hot within her. And yet joy was alive within her. She loved Tchorch! "I couldn't leave Tchorch now," she said to herself, as Ned went on talking. "I'd rather he killed me. Poor Mary!" If Pete had been brutal, Mary had always been kind. She hated Ned suddenly. He took another drink and sat crouched over the fire. Every now and again he looked round. At any noise he started. Perhaps the police were trying to look into the house. Jenny could have screamed. It seemed hours since George went away. Ned muttered to the fire. "Mary, Mary," he said in a low voice. He and Mary had been lovers once, for when she first went to him he was a man, and she was quite beautiful. Across the dark years he saw himself and her: and again he saw her as she lay in blood upon the earthen floor of his shack, what time he had run out and taken his horse for flight. "They'll hang me," said Ned, choking. And there were steps outside. He sprang to his feet and hung to the mantel-shelf. "What's that?" he asked. The next minute they heard George enter the house with some other man. "It's the police," screamed Ned thinly. He believed George had denounced him. And George put his head inside the room and beckoned to him. Ned ran to him stumbling. The door closed on them and Jenny fell upon her knees. Then she sank in a heap upon the floor. She had fainted. In the hall was someone Ned did not know. But George knew him and knew that he was a capable strong man. He was Long Mac of the Pony Saw, as strong as he was long. In the winters he hunted, and knew all the country round about. "Take him across the river to-night, and away by Whatcom to-morrow, Mac," said George; "do your best." Mac never did less, whether it was for evil or for good. On the balance he was a good and fine man. But he cared nothing for the Law and had a curious respect and liking for George Quin. "I'll do that," said Long Mac. He took Ned by the arm, and Ned without a backward glance shuffled into the darkness. George went in to Jenny and found her unconscious on the floor. He sprinkled cold water in her face, and she moaned.