he system, who was responsible for his
enormous investment, and each reposed in the other entire confidence.
Gertrude constantly contended that it was only a question of her
father's really knowing Glover, and that if her lover could be put, as
she knew him, before her father, he must certainly give way. Why not,
then, take Bucks into their confidence?

It seemed like light from heaven to Glover, and he was talking to
Gertrude when there came a rap at the door of the parlor and a
messenger entered with a long despatch from Callahan at Sleepy Cat.

The message was marked delayed in transmission. Glover walked with it
to the window and read:

"Doubleday's outfit wrecked early this morning on Pilot Hill while
bucking. Head engine, the 927, McGraw, partly off track. Tender
crushed the cab. Doubleday instantly killed and McGraw badly hurt.
Morris Blood is reported to have been in the cab also, but cannot be
found. Have sent Doubleday and McGraw to Medicine Bend in my car and
am starting with wrecking crew for the Hill."

"What is it?" murmured Gertrude, watching her lover's face. He studied
the telegram a long time and she came to his side. He raised his eyes
from the paper in his hand and looked out of the window. "What is it?"
she whispered.

"Pilot Hill."

"I do not understand, dearest."

"A wreck."

"Oh, is it serious?"

His eyes fell again on the death message. "Morris Blood was in it and
they can't find him."

"Oh, oh."

"A bad place; a bad, bad place." He spoke, absently, then his eyes
turned upon her with inexpressible tenderness.

"But why can't they find him, dearest?"

"The track is blasted out of the mountain side for half a mile. Bucks
said it would be a graveyard, but I couldn't get to the mines in any
other way. Gertrude, I must go to the Wickiup at once to get further
news. This message has been delayed, the wires are not right yet."

"Will you come back soon?"

"Just the minute I can get definite news about Morris. In half an
hour, probably."

She tried to comfort him when he left her. She knew of the deep
attachment between the two men, and she encouraged her lover to hope
for the best. Not until he had gone did she fully realize how deeply
he was moved. At the window she watched him walk hurriedly down the
street, and as he disappeared, reflected that she had never seen such
an expression on his face as when he read the telegram.

The half hour went while she refle