At the next corner he made some excuse to Jim Pink, and turned
off up an alley.
* * * * *
Peter walked along with his shoulders squared and the dust peppering his
back. Not till Tump was lifted from his mind did he realize what an
incubus the soldier had been. Peter had been forced into a position
where, if he had killed Tump, he would have been ruined; if he had not,
he would probably have murdered. Now he was free--for thirty days.
He swung along briskly in the warm sunshine toward the multicolored
forest. The day had suddenly become glorious. Presently he found himself
in the back alleys near Cissie's house. He was passing chicken-houses
and stables. Hogs in open pens grunted expectantly at his footsteps.
Peter had not meant to go to Cissie's at all, but now, when he saw he
was right behind her dwelling, she seemed radiantly accessible to him.
Still, it struck him that it would not be precisely the thing to call on
Cissie immediately after Tump's arrest. It might look as if--Then the
thought came that, as a neighbor, he should stop and tell Cissie of
Tump's misfortune.
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