"Yes," he said, "the work is finished. I shall not come up here again unless it is for the sole purpose of seeing you." There was something in his tone that caused her to glance up at him and there was that in his eyes, on his face, in his bearing of restraint, that caused her to look around again, as if to escape, and hastily begin donning her gloves. She pulled the fingers, though they fitted loosely, as if she had difficulty with them--even as though they were tight gloves of kid, and said: "Well, you might do that, sometimes--when you have time; but you mustn't neglect your work. I come here because it is my favorite ride. You must not come merely to talk to me when there are other duties." "Yes," he said, endeavoring to appear unconcerned. "The Croix d'Or is apt to be a most insistent tyrant." "And it should come first!" He was obtuse for the instant in his worriment, and did not catch the subtle shade of bitterness in which she spoke. She tugged at the reins of her horse, and the animal reluctantly tore loose a last mouthful of the succulent grass growing under the moisture and shadow of the big steel pipe, and stood expectantly waiting for her to mount. She was in the saddle before Dick could come around to her side to assist her. He made a last desperate compromise, finding an excuse. "When I feel that I must see you, because you are such a good little adviser, I shall come back here," he said, "morning after morning, in the hope of seeing you and unburdening my disgruntlement." She laughed, as if it were a joke. "I'm afraid I'm not a very good miner," she said, "although I suppose I ought to be a yellow-legged expert, having been brought up somewhere within sound of the stamps all my life. Good luck to you. Good-by." His reply was almost a mumble, and the black horse started down the trail. He watched her, with a sinking, hungry heart. Just as the crag was almost abreast of her mount, she turned and called back: "Oh, I forgot to say that I shall probably come here almost every day." He did not understand, until long afterward, the effort that speech cost her; nor did he know ever that her face was suffused when her horse, startled, sprang out of sight at the touch of her spurs. He did not know, as he stood there, wishing that he had called her back, that she was riding recklessly down the road, hurt, and yet inclined to be strangely happy over that parting and all it had confessed. With a set face, as if a whole fabric of dreams had been wrenched from his life, the miner turned and walked slowly over the trail, worn by his own feet, which led him back to the Croix d'Or, and the struggle with the stubborn rock.