"Ah yes," said Apache Kid. "There has been of course a lot of talk about it. Yes, I have specimens." He produced two pieces and handed them to George, and then turning to Miss Pinkerton, he said: "I was going to make a suggestion to you, Miss Pinkerton, remembering your father’s desire that we—remembering the desire he expressed to us, I was going to make the suggestion, that, if it would not offend you, you would accept— May I speak before this gentleman?" "Certainly," said she, coldly. He bowed. "I was going to suggest that you might allow me to transfer to your bank the sum of—let me see—" and he took a paper from his pocket. It was inconceivable that he had forgotten the amount, but he glanced at the paper, and then looked up as though making a computation, but in so doing looked both at the young woman and at George, who was leaning against a neighbouring table. "The sum of twenty thousand, seven hundred and forty dollars," said he. There was no change on his face; he spoke as lightly of the sum as might a Rockefeller, and his was the only face that remained immobile. But then, of course, he was the only one who knew what was coming. George stared with a look of doubt. Margaret looked at Apache Kid keenly and then at George for a long space, thoughtfully. For me—I was thunderstruck. I gasped. I think I must have cried out something (I know that what I thought was: "Why! This is your entire share, apart from the turquoises,") for the three were all looking at me then. I knew besides that he had no money left, apart from our Lost Cabin wealth; for he had told me so. Twenty thousand, seven hundred and fifty had been his share of the gold and ten dollars of this he had paid already for his seat in the stage. He was giving this girl all he had. "It will not go very far," said Apache Kid, smiling. "It is, after all, very little to offer, but I am in hopes that within a fortnight or so I may be able to perhaps double the amount. I know," and now, if you like, I could see the sneer creep on his face, "I know that women are not mercenary and I must apologise for speaking of money matters. It was not only money matters that were in Mr. Pinkerton’s mind, I believe. I believe it was your happiness that he was anxious about. I cannot pretend to myself that I could ever, by offering you money, wipe out the debt we owe him. I know that we were the cause of his death, though we did not fire the fatal shot. Money, to my mind, could never recompense for a life lost for others." He looked up and saw Margaret’s eyes fixed on him—and his eyes did not remove. He gazed into hers unflinching, and as he looked hers filled with tears. He had his head raised and she seemed to be looking clear into his soul. Her face was very beautiful to see then. How George took all this I do not know; for I was looking on the girl. "O!" she said, her voice quavering. "O, I think you are just _all right_."