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years of his revenge to the present moment。 Well； his triumph had come at last； the summit was put upon his life's work； and he washe must becontent。
Will raised his head and looked at him in reviving hope。
〃You're the only friend I have on earth；〃 he muttered between his teeth。
The first streak of dawn entered suddenly； flooding the room with a thin gray light in which the familiar objects appeared robbed of all atmospheric values。 With a last feeble flicker the lamp shot up and went out； and the ashen wash of daybreak seemed the fit medium for the crude ugliness of life。
Towering almost grotesquely in the pallid dawn； Christopher came and leaned above the sofa to which Will had dragged himself again。
〃You must get out of this；〃 he said； 〃and quickly； for we've wasted the whole night wrangling。 Have you any money？〃
Will fumbled in his pocket and brought out a few cents； which he held in his open palm； while the other unlocked the drawer of the old secretary and handed him a roll of banknotes。
〃Take this and buy a ticket somewhere。 It's the money I scraped up to pay Fred Turner。〃
〃To pay Fred Turner？〃 echoed Will； as if in that lay the significance of the remark。
〃Take it and buy a ticket； and when you get where you're going； sit still and keep your mouth shut。 If you wear a bold face you will go scotfree； remember that； but everything depends upon your keeping a stiff front。 And now gothrough the back door and past the kitchen to the piece of woods beyond the pasture。 Cut through them to Tanner's Station and take the train there； mind； for the North。〃
With a short laugh he held out his big； knotted hand。
〃Goodby；〃 he said； 〃 and don't be a damned fool。〃
〃Goodby；〃 answered Will； clinging desperately to his outstretched arm。 Then an ashen pallor overspread his face； and he slunk nervously toward the kitchen； for there was the sound of footsteps on the little porch outside； followed by a brisk rap on the front door。
〃Go！〃 whispered Christopher； hardly taking breath； and he stood waiting while Will ran along the wooden platform and past the stable toward the pasture。
The rap came again； and he turned quickly。 〃Quit your racket and let me get on my clothes！〃 he shouted； and hesitated a little longer。
As he stood alone there in the center of the room； his eyes； traversing the walls； fell on the portrait of Bolivar Blake； and with one of the fantastic tricks of memory there shot into his head the dying phrase of that gay sinner： 〃I may not sit with the saints； but I shall stand among the gentlemen。〃
〃Precious old ass！〃 he muttered； and unbarred the door。
As he flung it open the first rays of sunlight splashed across the threshold； and he was conscious； all at once； of a strange exhilaration； as if he were breasting one of the big waves of life。
〃This is a pretty way to wake up a fellow who has been planting tobacco till he's stiff；〃 he grumbled。 〃Is that you； Tom？〃 He glanced carelessly round； nodding with a kind of friendly condescension to each man of the little group。 〃How are you； Matthew？ Hello； Fred！〃
Tom drew back； coughing； and scraped the heel of his boot on the topmost step。
〃We didn't mean to git you out of bed； Mr。 Christopher；〃 he explained apologetically； 〃but the truth is we want Will Fletcher an' he ain't at home。 The old man's murdered； suh。〃
〃Murdered； is he？〃 exclaimed Christopher； with a long whistle； 〃and you want Will Fletcherwhich shows what a very pretty sheriff you would make。 Well； if you're so strong on his scent that you can't turn aside； most likely you'll find him sleeping off his drunk under my haystack。 But if you're looking for the man who killed Bill Fletcher； then that's a different matter；？ he added； taking down his hat； 〃and I reckon； boys； I'm about ready to come along。〃
CHAPTER X。 The Wheel of Life
Throughout the trial he wore the sullen reserve which closed over him like a visor when he approached one of the crises of life。 He had made his confession and he stood to it。 〃I killed Bill Fletcher〃 he gave out flatly enough。 What he could not give was an explanation of his unaccountable presence at the Hall so nearly upon midnight。 When the question was first put to him he sneered and shrugged his shoulders with the hereditary gesture of the Blakes。 〃Why was he there？ Well； why wasn't he there？〃 That was all。 And Carraway； who had stood by his side since the day of the arrest； retired at last before an attitude which he characterised as one of defiant arrogance。
It was this attitude； people said presently； rather than the murder of Bill Fletcher； which brought him the sentence he heard with so insolent an indifference。
〃Five years wasn't much for killin' a man； maybe；〃 Tom Spade observed； 〃but it was a good deal； when you come to think of it； for a Blake to pay jest for gettin' even with a Fletcher。 Why； he might have brained Bill Fletcher an' welcome；〃 the storekeeper added a little wistfully； 〃if only he hadn't put on such a nasty manner afterward。〃
But it was behind this impregnable reserve that Christopher retreated as into a walled fortress。 There had been no sentiment in his act； he told himself； he had not even felt the romantic fervour of the sacrifice。 A certain staunch justice was all he saw in it； relieved doubtless by a share of his hereditary love of desperate hopesof the hotheaded clinging to that last shifting foothold on which a man might still make his fight against the power of circumstance。 And so； with that strange mixture of rustic crudeness and aristocratic arrogance； he turned his face from his friends and went stubbornly through the cross…questioning of the court。
》From first to last he had not wavered in his refusal to see Maria； and there had been an angry vehemence in the resistance he had made to her passionate entreaty for a meeting。 When by the early autumn he went from the little town gaol to serve his five years in the State prison； his most vivid memory of her was as she looked with the moonlight on her face in the open field。 As the months went on； this gradually grew remote and dim in his remembrance； like a bright star over which the clouds thicken； and his thoughts declined； almost without an upward inspiration； upon the brutal level of his daily life。 Mere physical disgust was his first violent recoil from what had seemed a curious deadness of his whole nature； and the awakening of the senses preceded by many months the final resurrection of the more spiritual emotions。 The sources of health were still abundant in him； he admitted； if the vile air； the fetid smells； the closeness as of huddled animals； the filth； the obscenity； the insufferable bestial humanity could arouse in him a bodily nausea so nearly resembling disease。 There were moments when he felt capable of any crime from sheer frenzied loathing of his surroundingswhen for the sake of the clean space of the tobacco fields and the pure water of the little spring he would have murdered Bill Fletcher a dozen times。 As for the old man's death in itself； it had never caused him so much as a quiver of the conscience。 Bill Fletcher deserved to die； and the world was well rid of himthat was all。
But his own misery！ This was