about it as it paused for a moment, hesitating,
underneath the arc-lamp at the corner. They saw
the white face lifted as Happy Fear gave one last
look about him; then he set his shoulders sturdily,
and steadfastly entered the door of the jail.

Joe took a deep breath. "Now we'll go," he
said. "I must be quick."

"What was it?" she asked, tremulously, as they
reached the street. "Can you tell me?"

"Nothing--just an old story."

He had not offered her his arm, but walked on
hurriedly, a pace ahead of her, though she came
as rapidly as she could. She put her hand rather
timidly on his sleeve, and without need of more
words from her he understood her insistence.

"That was the husband of the woman who told
you her story," he said. "Perhaps it would shock
you less if I tell you now than if you heard it to-
morrow, as you will. He's just shot the other
man."

"Killed him!" she gasped.

"Yes," he answered. "He wanted to run away,
but I wouldn't let him. He has my word that