“But,” he continued suddenly, “it cannot now, nor ever can afford to lose what those three million feet represent,--the friends it has made. I can pay you back the money you have spent and the time you have put in--” Again he looked them over, and then for the first time since they have known him his face lighted up with a rare and tender smile of affection. “But, comrades, I shall not offer to do it: the gift is accepted in the spirit with which it was offered--” He got no further. The air was rent with sound. Even the members of his own party cheered. From every direction the crowd surged inward. The women and Morton were forced up the platform to Thorpe. The latter motioned for silence. “Now, boys, we have done it,” said he, “and so will go back to work. From now on you are my comrades in the fight.” His eyes were dim; his breast heaved; his voice shook. Hilda was weeping from excitement. Through the tears she saw them all looking at their leader, and in the worn, hard faces glowed the affection and admiration of a dog for its master. Something there was especially touching in this, for strong men rarely show it. She felt a great wave of excitement sweep over her. Instantly she was standing by Thorpe, her eyes streaming, her breast throbbing with emotion. “Oh!” she cried, stretching her arms out to them passionately, “Oh! I love you; I love you all!” End of Project Gutenberg's The Blazed Trail, by Stewart Edward White