"Wal," said Cale sententiously, looking hard at the Doctor, "there 's two ways of lookin' at thet, but it took him some time ter see it; an' it war n't till he 'd travelled fer four months, east, north, south, an' west as fur as the Rockies, thet he come home an' settled down to farmin' again; but it would n't work. He war n't the same man; lost his interest, an' was lettin' things go ter the dogs. He never took ter drink, thet I know of. But there war n't no use talking ter him. He was his own master an' would n't be interfered with.
"It might have been nine months after he 'd come home, mebbe 't was a year, I don't remember, when he come to me one day with a telegram in his hand—it had come up on the stage—an' handed it to me with the face of a man ready ter face death or of a dead man jest come ter life, I could n't say which.
"'Read it,' says he, shakin' like a man in drink; 'I can't.' An' I read:
"'I am dyin' and alone among strangers; will you come to me fer the sake of my child.' There was an address thet made George groan, fer he 'd been all over thet great Babel of New York, an' knew jest the kind of place she was in.
"Wal, he went; an' three days afterwards he come home with the dead body of the woman, as was his wife an' yet was n't—jest accordin' as you look at it—an' a live child thet was hers an' not his 'n, whichever way you look at it.
"Sech things ain't nothin' new to you, I s'pose?" Cale turned to the Doctor.
"What became of the man?" said the Doctor, without answering his question. During this recital his eyes never left Cale's face.
"Dunno."
"You don't know! What do you mean by that, Cale?" said Jamie.
"I mean," he answered slowly, "thet George Jackson never did nothin' by halves. He come ter me one day—the day after the funeral—an' said he was goin' away. An' he did; sold out an' went away."