Arthur went away through the soft Southern moonlight without shooting the man.

Somehow it was because of the horse, and he never knew why it was.

The old childish innocence and happiness seemed to flood over him in a light of spirit which dimmed the moonlight and swept away the will for murder from his soul.

But the bitterness and the hate of the man who had wronged him never left him.

The next day he went North, and the man in possession breathed more easily, for he had had secret misgivings.
"You had better look out," another man had said to him.