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All at once the truth came back upon her, stirring her now. It would do no good for Ba'tiste to arrive in time. He might plead to them all and tell the truth about the reprieve, but it would not avail Rube Haman would hang. That did not matter even though he was innocent; but Ba'tiste's brother would be so long in purgatory.

She had only heard, in her own brain, the iteration of Ba'tiste's calling. Would he reach Askatoon in time? she wondered, as she shut the door. Why had she not gone with him and attempted the shorter way the quick way, he had called it? All at once the truth came back upon her, stirring her now. It would do no good for Ba'tiste to arrive in time.

Aimlessly he wandered about, staring in the moonlight at the piled-up remains of his mill, then at last he seated himself on a stack of lumber, to rest a moment before the return journey to Ba'tiste's cabin. But suddenly he tensed. A low whistle had come from the edge of the woods, a hundred yards away, and Barry listened attentively for its repetition, but it did not come.

Almost to Ba'tiste's cabin he went; at last to turn from the road at the sound of hoofbeats, then to stare as Medaine Robinette, on horseback, passed him at a trot, headed toward her home, the shadowy Lost Wing, on his calico pony, straggling along in the rear.

She leaned forwards, her hand at her ear, but no sound came in reply. Once more she called, but nothing answered. The night was all light and frost and silence. She had only heard, in her own brain, the iteration of Ba'tiste's calling. Would he reach Askatoon in time, she wondered, as she shut the door? Why had she not gone with him and attempted the shorter way the quick way, he had called it?

Then, like some great, human trip hammer, he swung into action, spinning Houston out of the way as he went forward, his big fists churning, his voice bellowing his call of battle: "Climb up me! Climb up me!" The foreman stooped for a club, and rose just in time to be lifted even higher, at the point of Ba'tiste's right fist then to drop in a lump.

Then, one afternoon," his breath pulled sharp, "Tom Langdon came into my office." "He was your cousin?" Ba'tiste's voice was that of a friendly cross-examiner. "Yes. I hadn't seen him in five years. We had never had much to do with him; we," and Houston smiled coldly with the turn that Fate had given to conditions in the Houston family, "always had looked on him as a sort of a black sheep.

They haven't any legal right to this land or flume or anything else; they just figured that my mill was burned and that I wouldn't be in a position to fight them. So they decided to take over the flume and try to force us into letting them have it." "Here comes somebody!" Ba'tiste's grip tightened about the cant hook and he rose, squaring himself.

He doesn't remember the verse on Ba'tiste's tombstone, does he?" Francois heard this speech, and his eyes lighted tenderly as he looked at Jeanne: he loved this fury of defence and championship. Some one in the crowd turned to him and asked him to say the verses.

Houston thought of her with a sudden cringing. In that moment as he stood outside the door of Ba'tiste's cabin, he had heard himself sealed and delivered to oblivion as far as she was concerned. He was only an acquaintance one with a grisly shadow in his past and it was best that he remain such.