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It is difficult for Herridon to take its visitors seriously, and quite as difficult for the visitors to take Herridon seriously. That is what the stranger thought as he tramped back and forth from point to point through the town. He had only been there twelve hours, yet he was familiar with the place. He had the instincts and the methods of the true traveler. He never was guilty of sightseeing in the usual sense. But it was his habit to get general outlines fixed at once. In Paris, in London, he had taken a map, had gone to some central spot, and had studied the cities from there; had traveled in different directions merely to get his bearings. After that he was quite at home. This was singular, too, for his life had been of recent years much out of the beaten tracks of civilization. He got the outlines of Herridon in an hour or two, and by evening he could have drawn a pretty accurate chart of it, both as to detail and from the point of a birdseye view at the top of the moor.

The moor had delighted him. He looked away to all quarters and saw hill and valley wrapped in that green. He saw it under an almost cloudless sky, and he took off his hat and threw his grizzled head back with a boyish laugh.

“It’s good–good enough!” he said. “I’ve seen so much country all on edge that this is like getting a peep over the wall on the other side–the other side of Jordan. And yet that was God’s country with the sun on it, as Gladney used to say–poor devil!”

He dropped his eyes from the prospect before him and pushed the sod and ling with his foot musingly. “If I had been in Gladney’s place, would I have done as he did, and if he had been in my place would he have done as I did? One thing is certain, there’d have been bad luck for both of us, this way or that, with a woman in the equation. He was a fool–that’s the way it looked, and I was a liar–to all appearances, and there’s no heaven on earth for either. I’ve seen that all along the line. One thing is sure, Gladney has reached, as in his engineering phrase he’d say, the line of saturation, and I the line of liver, thanks be to London and its joys! And now for sulphur water and–damnation!”

This last word was not the real end to the sentence. He had, while lighting his cigar, suddenly remembered something. He puffed the cigar fiercely and immediately drew out a letter. He stood looking at it for a minute and presently let go a long breath.

“So much for London and getting out of my old tracks! Now, it can’t go for another three days, and he needing the dollars. * * * I’ll read it over again anyhow.” He took it out and read:

“Cheer up, and get out of the hospital as soon as you can and come over yourself. And remember in the future that you can’t fool about the fire escapes of a thirteen story flat as you can a straight foothill of the Rockies or a Lake Superior silver mine. Here goes to you $1,000 (per draft), and please to recall that what’s mine is yours, and what’s yours is your own, and there’s a good big sum that’ll be yours, concerning which later. But take care of yourself, Gladney. You can’t drown a mountain with the squirt of a rattlesnake’s tooth; you can’t flood a memory with cognac. I’ve tried it. For God’s sake don’t drink any more. What’s the use? Smile in the seesaw of the knives. You can only be killed once, and, believe me, there’s twice the fun in taking bad luck naked, as it were. Do you remember the time you and I and Ned Bassett, the H.B. company’s man, struck the camp of bloods on the Gray Goose river? How the squaw lied and said he was the trader that dropped their messenger in a hot spring, and they began to peel Ned before our eyes? How he said as they drew the first chip from his shoulder, ‘Tell the company, boys, that it’s according to the motto on their flag, Pro Pelle Cutem–Skin For Skin?’ How the woman backed down, and he got off with a strip of his pelt gone? How the medicine man took little bits of us and the red niggers, too, and put them on the raw place and fixed him up again? Well, that’s the way to do it, and if you come up smiling every time you get your pound of flesh one way or another. Play the game with a clear head and a little insolence, Gladney, and you won’t find the world so bad at its worst.