Eliza colored faintly. "It was nothing. Please don't tell him." At the incredulous lift of his brows she hastened to explain: "Tom said you men 'belonged' to Mr. O'Neil and Dan was an outsider. That hurt me dreadfully." "Well, he can't say that now; Dan is one of Murray's boys, all right, and you--you must be his girl." At that moment Mellen and McKay burst into the bungalow, demanding the truth behind the rumor which had just come to their ears; and there followed fresh explanations and rejoicings, through which Eliza sat quietly, thrilled by the note of genuine affection and loyalty that pervaded it all. But, now that the general despondency had vanished and joy reigned in its place, Tom Slater relapsed into his habitual gloom and spoke forebodingly of the difficulties yet to be encountered. "Murray don't say how MUCH he's raised," he remarked. "It may be only a drop in the bucket. We'll have to go through all this again, probably, and the next time he won't find it so easy to sting a millionaire." "We'll last through the winter anyhow--" "Winter!" Slater shook his bald head. "Winter is hard on old men like me." "We'll have the bridge built by spring, sure!" Mellen declared. "Maybe! I hope so. I wish I could last to see it, but the smallpox undermined me. Perhaps it's a mercy I'm so far gone; nobody knows yet whether the bridge will stand, and--I'd hate to see it go out." "It won't go out," said the engineer, confidently. "Maybe you're right. But that's what Trevor said about his breakwater. His work was done, and ours isn't hardly begun. By the way, Murray didn't say he HAD the money; he just said he expected to get it." "Go out and hang your crepe on the roundhouse," Dan told him; "this is a jubilee. If you keep on rejoicing you'll have us all in tears." When the others had gone he turned to Eliza. "Why don't you want O'Neil to know about that money, Sis?" he asked, curiously. "When I'm a hero I like to be billed as one." "Please!" She hesitated and turned her face away. "You--you are so stupid about some things." On the afternoon of this very day Curtis Gordon found Natalie at a window staring out across the sound in the direction of Omar. He laid a warm hand upon her shoulder and said: "My dear, confess! You are lonesome." She nodded silently. "Well, well! We mustn't allow that. Why don't you run over to Omar and see your friend Miss Appleton? She has a cheerful way with her." "I'm afraid things aren't very gay over there," said Natalie, doubtfully. "Quite probably. But the fact that O'Neil is on his last legs needn't interfere with your pleasure. A change will do you good." "You are very kind," she murmured. "You have done everything to make me happy, but--it's autumn. Winter is coming. I feel dull and lonely and gray, like the sky. Are you sure Mr. O'Neil has failed?"