the boy as close to him as he dared for fear of wakening him.

The man lay tense and rigid, his set face staring up into the starry
night. It was his hour of trial. A rising tide was sweeping him away.
He had to clutch at every straw to hold his footing. But something in
the man--his lifetime habit of facing the duty that he saw--held him
steady.

"You got to stand the gaff, Jack Beaudry. Can't run away from your
job, can you? Got to go through, haven't you? Well, then!"

Peace came at last to the tormented man. He fell asleep. Hours later
he opened his eyes upon a world bathed in light. It was such a brave
warm world that the fears which had gripped him in the chill night
seemed sinister dreams. In this clear, limpid atmosphere only a sick
soul could believe in a blind alley from which there was no escape.

But facts are facts. He might hope for escape, but even now he could
not delude himself with the thought that he might win through without a
fight.

While they ate breakfast he told the boy about the mother whom he had
never seen. John Beaudry had always intended to tell Royal the story
of his love for the slender, sweet-lipped girl whose grace and beauty
had flooded his soul. But the reticence of shyness had sealed his
lips. He had cared for her with a reverence too deep for words.

She was the daughter of well-to-do people visiting in the West. The
young cattleman and she had fallen in love almost at sight and had
remained lovers till the day of her death. After one year of happiness