Bancroft flicked the ash from his cigar with unusual care, looked at it with contemplative interest, and drew a whiff or two before he spoke. Turning to Conrad with a quizzical smile, he said: "Well, Curt, doesn't that rather take the edge off your purpose? Why are you still shaking your gory locks and roaring like a wounded bull at him when he's evidently doing the square thing by you? Why don't you let up on your chase and give him a chance?" "Not on your life," was Conrad's emphatic rejoinder. "It's too late in the game for me to take repentance and an honest purpose on the hoof! He's found out that I'm getting hot on the scent and he wants to buy me off--that's all that check means. It's not the loss of the money that sticks in my craw; it's the deviltry he worked years ago. Whenever I find that he's discharging his debts to all his other creditors, who aren't after him hot-foot, then I'll consent to wait for my parley until he has settled the whole score." Lucy arose from the bed depressed with a vague sense of trouble. The longing seized her to be out-of-doors again, alone with her father on the wide plain, with the wind smiting her face and filling her lungs and making her forget everything but her own joy in being alive. She rubbed her eyes, smoothed her face, and forced herself to smile at the reflection in the mirror until her agitation was subdued. And presently, smiling and self-possessed, she opened the door into the front room, just as her father was finishing some friendly advice to Conrad. "Well, Curt, it's your affair," he had said, "and if you are so dead-set on getting that kind of revenge I suppose you'll go ahead and get it. But you'd better be careful; if this man is desperate he might try to head you off by the same means. And you couldn't exactly blame him for objecting to being shot in his tracks, or for taking measures to keep you from doing it. For my part, I never thought revenge was a paying investment, and I still believe you're foolish to waste your time, energy, and money in that sort of business. "Ah, Lucy, is that you?" he went on, as she opened the door. "Come in, dear. Have you had a nap, and do you feel better?" "Yes, thank you, I've rested beautifully, and I'm ready to start whenever you wish," she replied. Conrad produced a bottle of port wine, telling them as he filled their glasses that it had been sent him by a friend in California in whose cellars it had lain for twenty years, and that it would be a good tonic for Miss Bancroft. The friend had promised to send him more, and with her permission he would take a bottle to her the next time he went to Golden. As they stepped out of the house Lucy looked toward the west, whence the wind came, and as it struck her full in the face she gasped for breath and her slender body swayed in its rushing current. She grasped her wide hat brim with both hands and held it down so that it made a frame for her face. Laughing with joy she turned to Curtis.