Chapter 42

           ‘Idon’tthinkhecoulddomorethanperhapslookuponthatstraightpath.Heseemedtohavebeenpuzzledbywhathesaw,forheinterruptedhimselfinhisnarrativemorethanoncetoexclaim,“Henearlyslippedfrommethere.Icouldnotmakehimout.Whowashe?”Andafterglaringatmewildlyhewouldgoon,jubilatingandsneering.TometheconversationofthesetwoacrossthecreekappearsnowasthedeadliestkindofduelonwhichFatelookedonwithhercold-eyedknowledgeoftheend.No,hedidn’tturnJim’ssoulinsideout,butIammuchmistakenifthespiritsoutterlyoutofhisreachhadnotbeenmadetotastetothefullthebitternessofthatcontest.Theseweretheemissarieswithwhomtheworldhehadrenouncedwaspursuinghiminhisretreatwhitemenfrom“outthere”wherehedidnotthinkhimselfgoodenoughtolive.Thiswasallthatcametohimamenace,ashock,adangertohiswork.Isupposeitisthissad,half-resentful,half-resignedfeeling,piercingthroughthefewwordsJimsaidnowandthen,thatpuzzledBrownsomuchinthereadingofhischaracter.Somegreatmenowemostoftheirgreatnesstotheabilityofdetectinginthosetheydestinefortheirtoolstheexactqualityofstrengththatmattersfortheirwork;andBrown,asthoughhehadbeenreallygreat,hadasatanicgiftoffindingoutthebestandtheweakestspotinhisvictims.

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