Sucatash grinned. "I hate to contradict you, old-timer. In fact, I sure wish you was right. But, even if she don't know it herself, I know. It sure beats the deuce how much those eyes of hers can say even when they don't know they're sayin' it." De Launay nodded. He was thinking of the lights in them when she had turned them on him of late. "They told _me_ something, not very long ago--and I'm gamblin' there won't be any divorce, pardner." "There probably won't," De Launay replied, shortly. "It won't be necessary." He got up and went into the other room where Solange reclined on the bunk. He found her sitting up, dressed once more in leather breeches and flannel shirtwaist, and looking almost restored to full strength. Her cheeks were flushed again, but this time with the color of health. The firelight played on her hair, glowing in it prismatically. Her eyes, as she turned them on him, caught the lights and drew them into their depths. They were once more fathomless and hypnotic. But De Launay did not face them. He sat down on a rude stool beside the fire and looked into the flame. His face was set and indifferent. "Monsieur," said Solange, "you are changed again, it seems. It is not pleasant to have you imitate the chameleon, in this manner. What has happened?" "Your mine has been found," said De Launay, shortly. Solange started, half comprehending. Then, as his meaning caught hold, she cried out, hesitating, puzzled, not knowing whether his manner meant good news or bad. "But--if it has been found, that is good news? Why do you look so grim, monsieur? Is it that you are grieved because it has been found?" De Launay had half expected an outburst of joyous questions which would have made his task harder. In turn, he was puzzled. The girl did not seem either greatly excited or overjoyed. In fact, she appeared to be doubtful. Probably she could not realize the truth all at once. "It has been found," he went on, harshly, "by Banker, the prospector from whom I rescued you." Solange remained still, staring at him. He sat with elbows on his knees, his face outlined in profile by the fire. Clean and fine lined it was, strong with a thoroughbred strength, a face that a woman would trust and a man respect. As she looked at it, noting the somber suppression of emotion, she read the man's reluctance and disappointment for her. She guessed that he buried his feelings under that mask and she wondered wistfully how deep those feelings were. "Then," she said, at last, "it is not likely that this Monsieur Banker would acknowledge my claim to the mine?" "The mine is his under the law. I am afraid that you have no claim to it. Your father never located it nor worked it. As for Banker----" He paused until she spoke. "Well? And what of this Banker?" "He will not hold it long. But he has heirs, no doubt, who would not acknowledge your claim. Still, I will do my best. Sucatash will back us up when we jump the claim."