"Yes," he said at last, "I suppose I am." And then, in answer to his companion's inquiries, he related briefly his history since their last meeting.

It was an intensely Western story, and it dealt with enterprises which it will be needless to introduce to the reader in detail.

Newman had come out of the war with a brevet of brigadier-general, an honor which in this case--without invidious comparisons--had lighted upon shoulders amply competent to bear it.

But though he could manage a fight, when need was, Newman heartily disliked the business; his four years in the army had left him with an angry, bitter sense of the waste of precious things--life and time and money and "smartness" and the early freshness of purpose; and he had addressed himself to the pursuits of peace with passionate zest and energy.

He was of course as penniless when he plucked off his shoulder-straps as when he put them on, and the only capital at his disposal was his dogged resolution and his lively perception of ends and means.