Hallam was trying to remember what he had read about the affray in question in a Tacoma paper, while Damer once more saw in fancy a man spring half-dressed through the wisp of smoke that drifted about a little tent.

He remembered with an unpleasant distinctness the crash of the rifle shot that rang amidst the shadowy pines, and the grim face of the man who whirled an axe that glinted in the moonlight about his head.

He saw the flash of its descent--and then brushing the memories from him stretched out a hand that shook a little towards the whisky on the table.
"Well," he said, "I owe Alton a good deal, and that's why I went up to Somasco when you told me, but he has been too much for me again, and now I feel it in me that if I'm wise I'll let that man alone." He drank a little whisky, and sat still, staring vacantly before him with a vague apprehension in his eyes, while the strained tenseness of his expression and attitude was not without its effect on Hallam, and it was unfortunate he did not yield to the impulse which prompted him to let Damer go.

He, however, shook off the fancy with a little, impatient laugh.
"It's not going to suit me to have you slipping out of the country," he said.

"I want you right here, though it would be quite easy to find a man with twice the grit you have in you.