"I hoped you would say that!" exclaimed Bethune, his eyes alight with approval. "I knew you would say it! The daughter of your father could not do otherwise. I knew him well, and loved him as a son should love. And I, too, would see his judgment vindicated in the eyes of all the world. Listen, together we will remain, and together we will locate the lost strike, if it takes every cent I own." The man's voice gripped in its intensity, and Patty's eyes returned from the distance where the summer haze bathed far mountain tops in soft purple, and looked into the eyes of velvet black. "But, why should you want to marry me?" she inquired, a puzzled little frown wrinkling her forehead. "You hardly know me. You have not always lived in the hills. You have met many women." "A man meets many women. He marries but one. You ask me why I want to marry you. I cannot tell you why. Many times since we first met I have asked myself why. I, who have openly scoffed at the yoke, and boasted proudly of my freedom. I do not know why, unless it is that to me you are the embodiment of all womanhood--of all that is desirable and worth while, or maybe the reason is in the fact that while I am with you I am supremely happy, and while I am absent from you I am restless and unhappy--a prey to my fears. I suppose it all sums up in the reason--world-old, but ever new--because I love you." The man was upon his feet, now, bending toward her with arms outstretched. For just an instant Patty hesitated, then shook her head. "No!" she cried and struggling to her feet, faced him across the remains of the luncheon. "No, it would not be playing the game. I have my work to do, and I'll do it alone. It would be like quitting--like calling for help before I am beaten. This is my work--not yours, this vindication of my father!" "But think," interrupted Bethune, "you will not let such Quixotic ideals stand between us and happiness! You have your right to happiness, and so have I, and in the end 'twill be the same, your father's name will be cleared of any suspicion of unworthiness." "It is my work," Patty repeated, stubbornly, "and besides, I do not think I love you. I do not know----" "Ah, but you will love me!" cried Bethune. "Such love as mine will not be denied!" The black eyes glowed, and he took a step toward her, but the girl drew away. "Not now--not yet! Stop!" At the command Bethune recoiled slightly, and the arms that had been about to encircle the girl, fell slowly to his sides. Patty had suddenly drawn herself erect and looked him eye for eye: and as she looked, from behind the soft glow of the velvet eyes, leaped a wolfish gleam--a glint of baffled rage, a flash of hate. In a moment it was gone and the man's lips smiled.