Aldous had employed a certain amount of caution, but until he had talked
with Stevens he had not believed that Quade, in his twofold desire to
avenge himself and possess Joanne, would go to the extraordinary ends
predicted by the packer. His point of view was now entirely changed. He
believed Stevens. He knew the man was not excitable. He was one of the
coolest heads in the mountains. And he had abundant nerve. Thought of
Stimson and Stimson's wife had sent the hot blood through Aldous like fire.
Was Stevens right in that detail? And was Quade actually planning the same
end for him and Joanne? Why had Quade stolen on ahead to Tete Jaune? Why
had he not waited for to-morrow's train?
He found himself walking swiftly along the road, where he had intended to
walk slowly--a hundred questions pounding through his brain. Suddenly a
thought came to him that stopped him in the trail, his unseeing eyes
staring down into the dark chasm of the river. After all, was it so strange
that Quade would do these things? Into his own life Joanne had come like a
wonderful dream-creature transformed into flesh and blood. He no longer
tried to evade the fact that he could not think without thinking of Joanne.
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