He ran his eyes over their horrified faces, and knew instantly they held him the murderer.
The shock of this discovery steadied him.

He realized the meaning, the dread, terrible meaning, for he knew the West, its fierce, implacable spirit of vengeance, its merciless code of lynch-law.

The vigilantes of the mining camps were to him an old story; more than once he had witnessed their work, been cognizant of their power.

This was no time to parley or to hesitate.

He had seen and heard in that room that which left him eager to live, to be free, to open a long-closed door hiding the mystery of years.