from Sandy's lantern fell full on the dazed and swollen face of Carter Nelson. The two faced each other for a space, then Sandy asked him sharply what he did there.
"I don't know," said Carter, weakly, sinking back against the tree. "I'm sick. Get me some whisky."
"Wake up!" said Sandy, shaking him roughly. "This is Kilday—Sandy Kilday."
Carter's eyes were still closed, but his lip curled contemptuously. "Mr. Kilday," he said, and smiled scornfully. "The least said about Mr. Kilday the better."
Sandy laid a heavy hand on his shoulder.
"Nelson, listen! Do you remember going out to the Junction with Annette Fenton?"
"That's nobody's business but mine. I'll shoot the—"
"Do you remember coming home on the train?"
Carter's stupid, heavy eyes were on Sandy now, and he was evidently trying to understand what he was saying. "Home on the train? Yes; I came home on train."
"And afterward?" demanded Sandy, kneeling before him and looking intently in his eyes.