She was almost blind. She knew that she must kill herself: that alone was clear. It was that or the dance hall. She was to be like Bismarck Anne. And she realized in a moment that she knew Black Mike, his iron will and his cruel heart; and she was afraid of him, deadly afraid. She began to grope about the room. There was a dim square: that must be the window. Her hands passed fumblingly over the table, just missing the long sewing scissors. Nothing there. Quick, quick, he might come back! She almost fell over the cloak, which had fallen to the floor, and was now entangled about her feet. There was another square of light: it must be the door. She stumbled out into a glare of merciless sunshine that filled her brain and beat on the walls of her understanding until she covered her eyes, and still stumbled on. She thought she heard men shouting. She was not sure. From his work of sweeping out the stale saloon, Frosty had seen her. She was a strange sight, her hair half down, her face white and drawn, her step so uncertain. Frosty was very fond of her in his stupid silent way. He yelled and ran toward her. In this day of excitement, a cry brought a dozen heads to a dozen windows and doors. In a moment the girl was surrounded. The men were puzzled. "Plain case of bug-juice," said one, a little sorrowfully. She felt someone trying gently to lead her somewhere, but she resisted, crying "Let me go, let me go. I want to get to the big rock." Graham pushed his way anxiously into the group. He had not been able to bring himself to attend the dance the evening before, but he had been told the details, and up to now had felt rather relieved than otherwise at the turn affairs had taken. "Why do you want to go to the big rock, Molly?" he asked gently. At the sound of his voice she began to cry a little. "It is so high up there, so high," she said over and over. "Of course it's high, Molly, very high; but don't you think you'd better wait until to-morrow?" The men stood about with awe-stricken faces. They saw now that there was more in this than they had at first supposed. "Nutty," they whispered to each other in undertones. "Such a long way down, a long way down," went on the girl. "I could jump from there very easily; such a long way down!" Graham took her quietly by the shoulders. "Listen, Molly, it's I, Jack Graham." "Yes, Jack." "And I want you to do just as I say. Will you do it?" "Yes, Jack." "I want you to go with me. Do you trust me, Molly?" She began to sob violently, almost convulsively, dabbing uncertainly at her eyes. "What is it, Jack? What am I doing here?" "Nothing; it's all right. Will you come with me? Ah, that's better." She looked about her with intelligence. "What is it, boys? How did I come here?" Her glance wandered past them to the dance hall, and she turned away suddenly. "Ah! I remember!" The strained look began to come back into her face.