Wood’s words had upon him. Perhaps speech from anyone in Lineville would have affected him similarly. He had been brought back by word of mouth to actualities. This kindly woman had hoped he would never return. He took so long about caring for his horses and unpacking part of his outfit that presently Mrs. Wood called him. Then shouldering his bed-roll and carrying a small pack, he returned to the kitchen. She had a hot meal prepared. Nevada indeed showed his need of good and wholesome food.

“You poor boy!” she said once, sadly and curiously. But she did not ask any questions.

Nevada ate until he was ashamed of himself. “Shore I know what to call myself. But it tasted so good.”

“Ahuh. Well, Jim, you take some hot water an’ shave your woolly face,” she returned. “You can have the end room, right off the hall. There’s a stove an’ a box of wood.”

Nevada carried his pack into the room designated, then returned for the hot water, soap, and towel. Perhaps it was the dim and scarred mirror that gave his face such an unsightly appearance. He was to find out presently that shaving and clean clothes and a vastly improved appearance meant nothing to him, because Hettie had gone out of his life forever. What did he care how he looked? Yet he remembered with a twinge that she would care. When an hour later he strode into the kitchen to confront Mrs. Wood, she studied him with eyes as speculative as kind.

“Jim, I notice your gun has the same old swing, low down. Now that’s queer, ain’t it?” she said, ironically.

“Wal, it shore feels queer,” he responded. “For, honest, Mrs. Wood, I haven’t packed it at all for a long time.”

“An’ you haven’t been lookin’ at red liquor, either?” she went on.

“Reckon not.”

“An’ you haven’t been lookin’ at women, either?”

“Gosh, no. I always was scared of them,” he laughed, easily. But he could not deceive her.

“Boy, somethin’ has happened to you,” she declared, seriously. “You’re older. Your eyes aren’t like daggers any more. They’ve got shadows… . Jim, I once saw Billy the Kid in New Mexico. You used to look like him, not in face or body or walk, but jest in some way, some look I can’t describe.