"I've got to jog over to the river field; the boys are over there, working a little bunch we threw in yesterday.

To-morrow we can ride around a little, and kinda get the lay of the land.

You better go by-low, right now--you look as if it wouldn't do you any harm!" Whereupon he wisely took himself off and left Ford alone.
The door he pulled shut after him closed upon a mental battle-ground.
Ford did not go "by-low." Instead, he rolled over and lay with his face upon his folded arms, alive to the finger-tips; alive and fighting.

For there are times when the soul of a man awakes and demands a reckoning, and reviews pitilessly the past and faces the future with the veil of illusion torn quite away--and does it whether the man will or no..