Loring lay rigidly upon his back. Conscience, remorse, and a rock beneath his fourth rib, all kept him awake. The stars did not answer his half-framed questions, so he shut his eyes. It is hard to think when the eyes are closed, so he opened them again. It was a very simple question that he reiterated to the shadows, to the embers of the fire, and to the drone of the Gila river. It consisted of one word—“Why?” There was no need of his asking any one except himself; but he put off as long as possible asking the one person who could answer, for he KNEW why. His friends had always been so ready to make excuses for his shortcomings, that in graciousness he could do no less than acquiesce. But in spite of the veil with which memory surrounds facts, when a man lies awake at night he is likely to see them as they are. That both of Stephen’s parents had died when he was a child was no answer to the question which he asked of the fire and the river. His uncle had educated him with an affectionate insight which no parent could have bettered. That he had not all along realized what he was doing was no answer. A keen judge of men, Loring was an inspired critic of himself. It was not lack of ambition that had dragged him down, for always there had been a longing for those things which were not within his grasp. There was no inherent vice in his character. There was courage, loyalty, and kindness. There was only one thing lacking—some power to drive the whole. Most people are either led or pushed through life. But there are some whose motive power must come from within. CHAPTER II At half-past six the next morning the whistle in the upper camp blew long and clear. It is a strange fact that the dispassionate whistle in the morning is the brutal enemy of labor, calling its victims to the struggle; but that at noon it is impartial and cheerful. It then attempts the rôle of referee in the great game between labor and capital and, like a good umpire, favors neither. Yet the same whistle at night, when it calls the game off, becomes the warm ally of the workman, encouraging him openly with promise of rest and supper. It is then as if it said to him: “I was compelled to be impartial. That is my duty; but frankly, now that it is over, I am glad that you have won.”