He suffered without understanding why.

He caught glimpses into himself, into unlit darkness of soul.

The fire that had blistered him and the cold which had frozen him now united in one torturing possession of his mind and heart, and like a fiery steed with ice-shod feet, ranged his being, ran rioting through his blood, trampling the resurging good, dragging ever at the evil.
Out of the subsiding chaos came a clear question.

What had happened?
He had left the valley to go to Cottonwoods.

Why?
It seemed that he had gone to kill a man--Oldring! The name riveted his consciousness upon the one man of all men upon earth whom he had wanted to meet.