"I wonder," she said, "if you would care for my estimate of you! I wonder if you would care for the estimate of those around you. It does not seem strange that you are called by the fitting sobriquet of 'Bully Presby.' You are that! You are one of those shriveled souls that fatten on the toil of others--that thrive on others' misfortunes and miseries. My God! A usurer--a pawnbroker, is a prince compared to you. You are without compassion, pity, charity or grace. Your code is that of winning all, the code of greed! Listen to me. You doubtless look down on me as a camp woman, and with a certain amount of scorn! But knowing what I am, I should far rather be what I am, the owner of the High Light, a sordid den, than to be you, the owner of the Rattler, the man they call Bully Presby!" To their astonishment he leaned his head back and laughed, deeply, from his chest, as if her anger, her scorn, her bitter denunciation, had all served to amuse him. It was as if she had flattered him by her characterizations. She was too angry to speak and stood regarding him coldly until he had finished. He turned and appeared for the first time to observe the men of the Croix d'Or scowling at him, and his laugh abruptly stopped. He scowled back at them, and, without so much as a good-night salutation turned and walked away and lost himself in the shadows of the street. "Oh," she said, facing them and clenching her hands, "sometimes I hate that man! He is unfathomable! There have been times when I wondered if he was human." She bit her lip as if to restrain her words, and then looked up at the partners. "And there are times," drawled the big miner, "when I wonder how long I'll be able to keep my hands off of him. And one of those times has been in the last minute! If you think it would do any good, I'll--" She looked up at him and smiled, for the first time since they had met. She interrupted him. "No, the only way you can do any good is to make your contribution. I'll go with you." They walked together toward the box which was now deserted, save by the doctor and one other, who were scooping the money into a water pail they had secured somewhere. Bill threw his roll of bills into it and the doctor looked up and smiled. "I knew you would come," he said. "And that, with the two thousand that Mrs. Meredith has volunteered--" She checked him. "That was to be my secret. Please, none of you, speak of it again." "As you wish," replied the doctor. "And I apologize. Now I would suggest that you take charge of this and take it to the High Light. I'll send it over to-morrow by Jim. The boys have done well." That was all he said, and yet in his simple sentence was much. The camp had done well. He straightened up with an air of weariness. "This pail is pretty heavy," he said. "Won't you take it, Mathews, and carry it over?"