never closed, but are open from dawn until dawn
--the jail.

There, in that desolate refuge, lay Happy Fear,
surrendered sturdily by himself at Joe's word.
The picture of the little man was clear and fresh
in Ariel's eyes, and though she had seen him when
he was newly come from a thing so terrible that
she could not realize it as a fact, she felt only an
overwhelming pity for him. She was not even
horror-stricken, though she had shuddered. The
pathos of the shabby little figure crossing the street
toward the lighted doors had touched her. Something
about him had appealed to her, for he had
not seemed wicked; his face was not cruel, though
it was desperate. Perhaps it was partly his very
desperation which had moved her. She had
understood Joe, when he told her, that this man was
his friend; and comprehended his great fear when
he said: "I've got to clear him! I promised him."

Over and over Joe had reiterated: "I've got to
save him! I've got to!" She had answered
gently, "Yes, Joe," hurrying to keep up with him.
"He's a good man," he said. "I've known few
better, given his chances. And none of this would
have happened except for his old-time friendship
for me. It was his loyalty--oh, the rarest and
absurdest loyalty!--that made the first trouble
between him and the man he shot. I've got to clear