ance against the crimson heavens. Old Jezebel
wandered remotely, a black scratch across a desert of blood red.
Distance indefinable, beauty indescribable, once more these quickened
Jim's pulse. Almost, almost he seemed to catch the key to the Master
Dream and then--the scarlet glow changed to purple, and night began its
march across the sands.

Jim made his way down the trail and up to his house. Waiting at his door
were three of his workmen. They were young fellows, fresh shaved and
wearing white collars. Jim invited them in and they followed awkwardly.
They took the cigars he offered and then shifted uneasily while Jim
stood on the hearth rug regarding them with his wistful smile. He was
not so very many years older than they.

"Boss," finally began one of the men, "us fellows heard a few days ago
that you were going to leave. We wanted to do something to show we liked
you and what a--d--doggone shame it is you're going and--and we didn't
have time to buy anything, but we made up a purse. Every rough-neck on
the job contributes, Boss; they wanted to. Here's about two hundred
dollars. We'd like to have you buy something you can remember us by."

The spokesman stopped, perspiring and breathless. His two companions
came forward and one of them laid on the table a cigar box which, when
opened, showed a pile of bills and coins. Jim's face worked.

"Boys," said Jim huskily, "boys--I'm no speaker! What can I say to you
except that this kindness takes away some of the sting of going. I'll
buy something I can take with me wherever I go."

"Don't try to say nothing, Boss," said the spokesman. "I know what it
is. I laid awake all night fixing up what I just said."

"It was a darned good speech," replied Jim. "Don't forget me, boys. When
you finish the dam remember it was my pipe dream to have finished it
with you."

The three shook hands with Jim and made for the door. Jim stood staring
at the money, smiling but with wet eyes, when Bill Evans' automobile
exploded up to the house. Uncle Denny was sitting in the tonneau with
two other men. Jim walked slowly out to the road. One of the men was the
Secretary of the Interior; the other, a slender, keen-faced young man,
was his private secretary. Jim's face was white in the dusk.

"Well, young man," said the Secretary, "you have been having some
strenuous times since the Hearing. And for a man reputed to be
unpopular, you have some good friends."

Bill Evans, almost bursting