the
plank bridge and pointed its goblin eyes up the incline leading to the
camp mesa. When it came to a stand at the cliff's edge, Ballard saw that
it held Mrs. Van Bryck, Bigelow, and one of the Cantrell girls in the
tonneau; and that Elsa was sharing the driving-seat with young
Blacklock.

"Good evening, Mr. Ballard," said a voice from the shared half of the
driving-seat. And then: "We are trying out the new car--isn't it a
beauty?--and we decided to make a neighbourly call. Aren't you delighted
to see us? Please say you are, anyway. It is the least you can do."

XXII

A CRY IN THE NIGHT

The little French office clock--Bromley's testimonial from his
enthusiastic and admiring classmates of the _Ecole Polytechnique_--had
chimed the hour of ten; the August moon rose high in a firmament of
infinite depths above the deserted bunk shanties and the silent
machinery on the camp mesa; the big touring car, long since cooled from
its racing climb over the hills of the roundabout road, cast a grotesque
and fore-shortened shadow like that of a dwarfed band-wagon on the
stone-chip whiteness of the cutting yard; and still the members of the
auto party lingered on the porch of the adobe bungalow.

For Ballard, though he was playing the part of the unprepared host, the
prolonged stay of the Castle-'Cadians was an unalloyed joy. When he had
established Mrs. Van Bryck in the big easy-chair, reminiscent of
Engineer Macpherson and his canny skill with carpenter's tools, and had
dragged out the blanket-covered divan for Miss Cantrell and Bigelow, he
was free. And freedom, at that moment, meant the privilege of sitting a
little apart on the porch step with Elsa Craigmiles.

For the first time in weeks the Kentuckian was able to invite his soul
and to think and speak in terms of comfortable unembarrassment. The long
strain of the industrial battle was off, and Mr. Pelham's triumphal
beating of drums had been accomplished without loss of life, and with no
more serious consequences than a lamed arm for the man who was best able
to keep his own counsel. Having definitely determined to send in his
resignation in the morning, and thus to avoid any possible entanglement
which might arise when the instability of the great dam's foundations
should become generally known, the burden of responsibility was
immeasurably lightened. And to cap the ecstatic climax in its
sentimental part, Elsa's mood was not mocking; it was sympathetic to