e purest passions the world has ever known.
And you wouldn't admit that women could breathe the rarefied air of that
high altitude at all."

"That was before I knew all the possibilities; before I knew what it
means to----"

"Don't say it," she interrupted, the mocking mood slipping from her like
a cast-off garment.

"I shall say it," he went on doggedly. "Loudon is nearer to me than any
other man I ever knew. But I honestly believe I should hate him if--tell
me that it isn't so, Elsa. For heaven's sake, help me to kill out this
new madness before it makes a scoundrel of me!"

What she would have said he was not to know. Beyond the zone of light
bounded by the shadows of the maples on the lawn there were sounds as of
some animal crashing its way through the shrubbery. A moment later, out
of the enclosing walls of the night, came a man, running and gasping for
breath. It was one of the labourers from the camp at Elbow Canyon, and
he made for the corner of the portico where Miss Craigmiles's hammock
was swung.

"'Tis Misther Ballard I'm lukin' for!" he panted; and Ballard answered
quickly for himself.

"I'm here," he said. "What's wanted?"

"It's Misther Bromley, this time, sorr. The wather was risin' in the
river, and he'd been up to the wing dam just below this to see was there
anny logs or annything cloggin' it. On the way up or back, we don't know
which, he did be stoomblin' from the trail into the canyon; and the
dago, Lu'gi, found him." The man was mopping his face with a red
bandana, and his hands were shaking as if he had an ague fit.

"Is he badly hurt?" Ballard had put himself quickly between the hammock
and the bearer of ill tidings.

"'Tis kilt dead entirely he is, sorr, we're thinkin'," was the
low-spoken reply. The assistant engineer had no enemies among the
workmen at the headquarters' camp.

Ballard heard a horrified gasp behind him, and the hammock suddenly
swung empty. When he turned, Elsa was hurrying out through the open
French window with his coat and hat.

"You must not lose a moment," she urged. "Don't wait for anything--I'll
explain to father and Aunt June. Hurry! hurry! but, oh, do be
careful--_careful_!"

Ballard dropped from the edge of the portico and plunged into the
shrubbery at the heels of the messenger. The young woman, still pale and
strangely perturbed, hastened to find her aunt.

"What is it, child? What has happened?"

Miss Cauffrey, the gentle-voiced, had been dozin