“Did you tell me—the truth—about—Nella-Rose?” he whispered to the sagging, blear-eyed creature.
“Yes, sir!” moaned Peter, “I sho’ did!”
And Truedale did not reflect that when Greyson was-drunk—he lied!
Truedale never recalled clearly how he spent the hours between the time he left Greyson’s until he knocked on the door of White’s cabin; but it was broad daylight and bitingly cold when Jim flung the door open and looked at the stranger with no idea, for a moment, that he had ever seen him before. Then, putting his hand out wonderingly, he muttered:
“Gawd!” and drew Truedale in. Breakfast was spread on the table; the dogs lay before the blazing fire.
“Eat!” commanded Jim, “and keep yer jaws shet except to put in food.”
Conning attempted the feat but made a pitiful showing.
“Come to stay on?”
White’s curiosity was betraying him and the sympathy in his eyes filled Truedale with a mad desire to take this “God’s man” into his confidence.
“No, Jim. I’ve come to pack and go back to—to my job!”