“I’ve got another object in life—another reason for working and striving. I reckon a man never does know quite what he’s aimin’ to do until he sets a mark before him that isn’t altogether selfish. I want to get ahead just as much as ever—more so. But I want to accomplish what I’m aimin’ at for something higher than just the satisfaction of seeing the Great Hope pay big and know that folks say Joe Hurley has made a ten-strike!” “You—you will be successful, Joe,” she murmured. “That’s up to you, I reckon,” the man said abruptly. “I’m aimin’ to accomplish all this—winning a fortune, helping to put Canyon Pass on the map, and all—for you, Betty. Just for you.” “Mr. Hurley! Joe! Don’t!” the girl suddenly exclaimed. Her face had grown rosy when she began to understand fully what he was coming to, and then it paled. As she listened to his final outburst the grieved expression that contracted her lips and dimmed her eyes shocked him. Before she could speak he knew what answer he was to receive. “Don’t say anything more—please!” she begged. “It’s all wrong. I never thought this—this would happen. Why, I thought we were just friends.” “Betty!” ejaculated the man in a tone that wrung the girl’s heart. “Betty, haven’t I got a chance with you? I know I’m not worthy——” “Oh! Oh! Don’t put it that way, Joe,” she pleaded. “It really isn’t that!” “What’s the matter with me then?” he demanded. “Do you want time to think it over? Or—wait! Betty, is—is it because you left some one back East?” The girl was silent. She turned her head so that he might not see her face. But Hurley waited. She had to answer—and the halting word was uttered as though it were wrenched from her. “Yes.” Hurley drew in his breath sharply, and then he was likewise silent. A minute dragged by. She stole a glance at him at last. He was staring steadily at her left hand. She had removed her glove, and the hand rested bare upon her pony’s neck. Suddenly her face flamed again. “Oh! I do not wear his—his ring,” she said hoarsely. “There—there is a reason. I——” “I am not prying into your private affairs, Miss Betty,” Hurley said quickly. “Only—I am sorry I did not know before. Willie never said a word to warn me.” “He does not know!” ejaculated the girl. “I—I do not want him to know.” “He won’t learn it from me. Don’t fear,” said Hurley rather roughly. “Oh, Mr. Hurley! I am so—so sorry,” whispered the girl. The man, with drooping shoulders and hanging head, sat his horse, a statue of disappointment. He did not move or look at her, as she wheeled her own mount. “I—I think I would like to ride back alone, Mr. Hurley. You—you won’t mind? Afterward I hope we may be quite as good friends as heretofore. I do appreciate your friendship—Joe.” Betty could not easily miss the way back. The trail was perfectly plain. She rode fast at first, for with all her sorrow for Joe Hurley’s disappointment, she could not bear him near her now.