"'Come back, if ye dare,' says Pritchen, an' the men hooted as the poor chap walked from the buildin' as proud as a lord.
"I follered 'im to his cabin, fer I was sore hit, an' stood with 'im as he was ready to leave. He had his rifle, snow-shoes, his medical case, an' a small pack of grub on his back. He wouldn't say much, not even whar he was goin'. He seemed like a man in a dream.
"'Sol,' says he, jist afore he started, 'I'm as innocent of them charges as the new-born babe.'
"'I know it,' says I, 'but what kin we do?'
"'Nothin',' says he. 'Nothin' now, but the Good Lord will bring to light the hidden things of darkness in His own way, never ye fear that, Sol.'
"Then he looked across to this cabin, an' remained very still fer a time.
"'Won't ye say good-bye?' says I.
"'I can't,' says he, with a groan. 'With this shadder over me, I can't face her; it's better not. But ye'll look after'm, Sol,' an' he lays his hand upon my shoulder.
"'Till death,' says I.
"'God bless ye, man,' says he, an' with that he was gone—gone out inter the night through the wild howlin' tempest."