he took the switch Westerfelt handed him and started away.




Chapter III

When Slogan had ridden off through the mild spring sunshine, Westerfelt
saddled another horse and rode out of the gate towards the road leading
away from the house containing Sally Dawson's remains. He hardly had
any definite idea of whither he was going. He had only a vague
impression that the movement of a horse under him would to some degree
assuage the awful pain at his heart, but he was mistaken; the pangs of
self-accusation were as sharp as if he were a justly condemned
murderer. His way led past the cross-roads store, which contained the
post-office. Two men, a woman, and a child stood huddled together at
the door. They were talking about the accident; Westerfelt knew that
by their attitudes of awed attention and their occasional glances
towards Mrs. Dawson's. He was about to pass by when the storekeeper
signalled to him and called out:

"Mail fer you, Mr. Westerfelt; want me to fetch it out?"

Westerfelt nodded, and reined in and waited till the storekeeper came
out with a packet. "It must 'a' been drapped in after I closed last
night," he said. "Thar wasn't a thing in the box 'fore I went home,
an' it was the only one thar when I unlocked this mornin'. Mighty bad
news down the creek, ain't it?" he ended. "Powerful hard on the old
woman. They say she's mighty nigh distracted."