After one startled look the girl turned away her face, and her eyes stared vacantly across the valley. He waited for her to speak; but when she remained silent he resumed. “Jeanne, do you remember when we were out riding some time ago, and Smiley joined us just as we were starting down toward the town? Do you remember he asked to talk to me alone?” She nodded without looking around. “Well, he gave me a letter then and asked me to keep it, unless—er—something happened to him. Perhaps you remember what he said to me about opening a letter when he was dying?” She turned slowly, at that, and her eyes were misty and questioning. “I remember,” she said softly. “That letter contained a queer document.” His voice was strangely deep and quiet. “It told where his claim was located, and—it gave it to you and to me. That’s where I’ve been, Jeanne. I was looking for the claim and investigating it. It is one of the richest I’ve ever seen. His document—I don’t know what else to call it—asked us to take it as partners and develop it.” It was long before she answered. “Poor little Smiley!” she murmured. Her lips were trembling and her eyes were full. “A finer or braver friend never lived,” he answered gently. He waited with averted eyes until her heavy breathing calmed. At length he rose to his feet and began to walk uneasily up and down behind her. “Jeanne,” he said finally, “there is no reason for—for me beating around the bush any longer. The first day I came here I told you what had brought me here. I told you it was you. I still love you—I always have, and I always will. I can’t be without you any longer, sweetheart. But I told you also that I would not ask you again until I made my strike—or until we brought peace and decency back to Red Valley.” He paused a moment and glanced at her in an effort to read her thoughts. But her face was turned away from him. She was unconsciously pulling out blades of the long grass and winding them in and out between her slender fingers. “I’ve kept that promise, Jeanne,” he said quietly. “Both conditions were fulfilled a week ago. I did not come to you then because you had just been through some terrible experiences, and were—er—weakened from your wound and depressed and—and pretty well worn out. But now—” “But now,” she interrupted in a low voice, getting slowly to her feet, “after deserting me, you follow me out here, and take advantage of me when I’m lonely and unhappy to—to tell me all—this! It is no use, Rand.” “Jeanne!” His voice was hurt, dumfounded. “Yes,” she continued still in the same subdued tone, “I could have given you my final answer a month ago—and I won’t change it now, Rand, even if you have taken me unawares!” She faced him, and his despairing gaze met the deep, tender light that glowed in her eyes. “It is no use, you see,” she said softly, “because you must have known long ago that I love you.”