Loring shortened his day by dividing it into periods. A period consisted of the time required to raise ten buckets of ore. At the end of each period he permitted himself to glance over his shoulder, where just beyond the corner of the ore cribs he could see the porch of Mr. Cameron’s house. Now and then he was rewarded by a glimpse of Jean reading or talking to her father. Loring was very honest with himself and never before the requisite amount of work was accomplished did he give himself his reward. This morning he had gone through the usual routine, lowered the day’s shift and patiently waited to hoist the first result of their labor. It had been a severe strain on his subjective integrity, when, after he had raised nine buckets of ore, the expected tenth turned out to be merely a load of dulled drills sent up to be sharpened. Exasperated, he watched while the “nipper” boys unloaded the drills and put in the newly sharpened sets which they had brought from the blacksmith’s. One little fellow either unduly conscientious, or with a wholesome dread of the wrath of the mine foreman, laboriously counted the new drills from the short “starters” to the six- and seven-foot drills that complete the set. “Oh, they’re all right, Ignacio,” called Stephen. “Chuck them in! _’Sta ’ueno._” The next time his hopes were fulfilled, and bucket number ten appeared on the surface. As soon as it was clear of the shaft and swung onto the waiting ore car, Stephen turned for his long-desired glance. Tied to the fence in front of Mr. Cameron’s house was another horse beside Jean’s pony, which he knew so well. As he looked, the door opened and Jean appeared. She was too far away for him to distinguish her features and yet she seemed to him to have an air of buoyancy which he had not before remarked. A man stepped out of the doorway behind her. His tan riding-boots were brilliant with a gloss that is unknown in a world where men shine their own shoes. The sunlight positively quivered upon them. Jean and the stranger mounted, and as they rode nearer to the hoist Stephen observed that the man was singularly good-looking, but “too sleek by half,” he growled vindictively, as he turned to his work again.