By some chance the grave of the scarlet woman adjoined that of a laborer who had been killed by a blast. Neale remembered the spot. He had walked out there before. A morbid fascination often drew him to view that ever-increasing row of nameless graves. As the workman had given his life to the road, so had the woman. Neale saw a significance in the parallel.
Neale returned to the town troubled in mind. He remembered the last look Ruby had given him. Had he awakened conscience in her? Upon questioning Hough, he learned that Ruby had absented herself from the dancing-hall and had denied herself to all on that last night of her life.
There was to be one more incident relating to this poor girl before Benton in its mad rush should forget her.
Neale divined the tragedy before it came to pass, but he was as powerless to prevent it as any other spectator in Beauty Stanton’s hall.
Larry King reacted in his own peculiar way to the news of Ruby’s suicide, and the rumored cause. He stalked into that dancing-hall, where his voice stopped the music and the dancers.
“Come out heah!” he shouted to the pale Cordy.
And King spun the man into the center of the hall, where he called him every vile name known to the camp, scorned and slapped and insulted him, shamed him before that breathless crowd, goaded him at last into a desperate reaching for his gun, and killed him as he drew it.
21
Benton slowed and quieted down a few days before pay-day, to get ready for the great rush. Only the saloons and dance-halls and gambling-hells were active, and even here the difference was manifest.