He saw now what had caused those frantic gestures and shouts. It had been he, De Launay, who had uncovered to the prospector's gaze the gold which should have been mademoiselle's. No wonder he had no desire to laugh as he turned back into the valley. He was weighted down with the task that was his. He had to tell Solange that the quest on which she had come was futile. That her mine was found--but by another, and through his own act. He visualized those wonderful eyes which had, of late, looked upon him with such soft fire, dulling under the chilling shock of disappointment, mutely reproaching him for her misfortune and failure. The wild Vale of Avalon, which had seemed such a lovely haven for Morgan _la fée_, had lost its charm. He plodded downward and across the rank grass, going slowly and reluctantly to the cabin. Entering it, he went first to Sucatash, asking him how he felt. The cow-puncher raised himself with rapidly returning strength, noting the serious expression on De Launay's face. "I'm getting right hearty," he answered. "I'll drag myself out and sit up to-night, I reckon. But you don't look any too salubrious yourself, old-timer. Aimin' to answer sick call?" "No," said De Launay. "Thinking about mademoiselle. You remember those stakes we saw?" "Banker's claim? Sure." "Well, he's struck something. There is a small army pouring into Shoestring from Maryville. It's a regular, old-time gold rush." "Damn!" said Sucatash, decisively. He pondered the news a moment. "In these days," he finally said, "with gold mines bein' shut down because it don't pay to work 'em, there wouldn't be no rush unless he'd sure struck something remarkable." "You've guessed it!" said De Launay. "It's French Pete's mine?" "I don't see any other explanation." Again Sucatash was silent for a time. Then: "That little girl is sure out o' luck!" he said. There was a deep note of sympathy in the casual comment. And the cow-puncher looked at De Launay in a manner which the soldier readily interpreted. "No mine, no means of support, no friends within five thousand miles; nothing--but a husband she doesn't want! Is that what you're thinking?" "Not meaning any offense, it was something like that," said Sucatash, candidly. "She'll get rid of the incumbrance, without trouble," said De Launay, shortly. "Well, she ain't quite shy of friends, neither. I ain't got no gold mines--never took no stock in them. But I've got a bunch of cows and the old man's got a right nice ranch. If it wasn't for one thing, I'd just rack in and try my luck with her." "What's the one thing?" "You," said Sucatash, briefly. "I've already told you that I don't count. Her marriage was merely a formality and she'll be free within a short time."