Bertha told me he had
never crossed her will. He's really very kind and generous."

"That may be true, and yet he's a mill-stone about her neck. It's a
shame--a waste of beauty--for the girl is a beauty."

It was with a sense of relief that Moss heard Bertha say to his wife: "I
guess I've had enough of this. It's me to the high ground to-morrow."

"Aren't you going on to the metropolis?"

"I don't think it. I'm hungry for the peaks--and, besides, our horses
need exercise. I think I'll pull out for the West to-morrow and leave
the Captain and Lucius to go East together. I don't believe I need New
York."

To this arrangement Haney reluctantly consented. "You're missin' a whole
lot, Bertie. I don't feel right in goin' on to Babylon without ye. I
reckon you'd better reconsider the motion. However, I'll not be gone
long, and if I find the old Dad hearty I may bring him home with me.
He's liable to be livin' with John Donahue. Charles said he was a
shiffless whelp, and there's no telling how he's treating the old man.
Anyhow, I'll let you know."

She relented a little. "Ma'be I ought to go. I hate to see you starting
off alone."

"Sure now! don't ye worry, darling. Lucius is handy as a bootjack, and
we'll get along fine. Besides, I may come back immegitly, for them
mine-owners are cooking a hell-broth for us all. Havin' a governor on
their side now, they must set out to show their power."

Ben kept them supplied with home papers, and as Bertha took up one of
these journals she found herself played upon by familiar forms and
faces. The very names of the streets were an appeal. She saw herself
sporting with her hounds, riding with Fordyce over the flowery Mesa, or
facing him in his sun-bright office discussing the world's events and
deciding upon their own policies and expenditures. She grew very
homesick as these pleasant, familiar pictures freshened in her vision,
and her faith in Ben's honesty and essential goodness came back to her.
Moreover her mind was not at rest regarding Haney; much as she longed to
go home, she felt it her duty to remain with him, and as she lay in her
bed she thought of him with much the same pity a daughter feels for a
disabled father. "He's given me a whole lot--I ought to stay by him."

She admitted also a flutter of fear at thought of meeting Ben Fordyce
alone, and this unformulated distrust of herself decided her at last to
go on with Mart and to have him for shield and armor when she