The miner caught it up in his arms, fearing lest the bail break loose under its weight. The doctor bade them good night, and they started toward the High Light, leaving the torch man to extinguish his flares. She talked freely as she walked between them, expressing her relief that none of the destitute in that distant camp of mourning would suffer unduly after the receipt of Goldpan's offering. As they entered the house of the lights and noise the bartender nearest hailed her, wiped his hands on his apron and reached out an envelope. "Bully Presby was in here about an hour or two ago," he said, "and left this. It was before you and Doc Mills was goin' out to try and get the boys interested." She tore it open, then flushed, and passed it to the partners who together read it. "I hear," the letter read, "that some of the men who were killed over at the Blackbird used to work for me down in California. Also that there are some women and children over there who may have a hard time of it. Will you see to it that this goes to the right channels, and regard it as confidential? I don't want to appear to be a philanthropist on even a small scale. Presby." Pinned to the letter was a check. It was for ten thousand dollars. Bill lifted it in his fingers, scanned each word, then handed it to Mrs. Meredith who stood frowning with her eyes fixed on the floor. "I've known burros, and other contrary cusses, in my time," he said, slowly, "but this feller Presby has 'em all lookin' as simple, and plain, and understandable, as a cross-roads guide-post." And The Lily, contrite, agreed. CHAPTER IX WHERE A GIRL ADVISES "There's one thing about you, pardner, I don't quite sabe," drawled Bill to his employer as they sat in front of their cabin one night, after discussing the assays which Dick made his especial work. "You ain't as talkative as you used to be. Somethin's on your mind. It's more'n two weeks now since I had time to think about anything but the green lead, and I'm beginnin' to notice. Where the devil do you go every mornin' between nine and eleven?" Dick turned toward him impulsively, and then made no reply, other than to laugh softly. Then slowly he felt a wave of embarrassment. "Not that it's any of my business, bein' as you're you and I'm me; but we were pardners for some years before things changed and made you the boss and me the hired hand. And it may be I'm undue curious. Who's that girl you go up on the pipe line to meet every mornin'?" His question was so abrupt that, for an instant, the younger man had a hot, childish anger; but he controlled himself, and wondered why he should have been annoyed by the frank interrogation. "Miss Presby, the lumberman's daughter," he said crisply. "But what interests me most is how you knew?"