t it must have cost her to discuss the subject of her
father's wrongdoing with him. He was also once more overwhelmingly
sorry for her. There was nobody she could turn to for support or
sympathy, and it was evident that if he succeeded in foiling Hames, it
would alienate her from her father. Waynefleet, he felt, was not
likely to forgive her for the efforts she had made to save him from
being drawn into an act of profitable treachery.

"Well," he said after a moment's thought, "I am going on to Victoria
to see what can be done, but there is another matter that is troubling
me. I wonder if it has occurred to you that your father will find it
very difficult to stay on at the ranch when the part he has played
becomes apparent. I am almost afraid the boys will be vindictive."

"I believe he has not expected to carry on the ranch much longer. It
is heavily mortgaged, and he has been continually pressed for money."

"Has he any plans?"

Laura smiled wearily. "He has always plans. I believe he intends to go
to one of the towns on Puget Sound, and start a land agency." She
made a dejected gesture. "I don't expect him to succeed in it, but
perhaps I could earn a little."

Nasmyth set his lips tight, and there was concern in his face. She
looked very forlorn, and he knew that she was friendless. He could
hardly bring himself to contemplate the probability of her being cast
adrift, saddled with a man who, it was evident, would only involve her
in fresh disasters, and, he fancied, reproach her as the cause of
them. A gleam of anger crept into his eyes.

"If your father had only held on with us, I could have saved you
this," he observed.

There was a great sadness in Laura's smile.

"Still," she replied, "he didn't, and perhaps you couldn't have
expected it of him. He sees only the difficulties, and I am afraid
never tries to face them."

Nasmyth felt his self-control deserting him. He was conscious of an
almost overwhelming desire to save the girl from the results of her
father's dishonesty and folly, and he could see no way in which it
could be done. Then it was borne in upon him that in another moment or
two he would probably say or do something that he would regret
afterwards, and she would resent, and, rising stiffly, he held out his
hand.

"I must push on to the railroad," he said, and he held the hand she
gave him in a firm clasp. "Miss Waynefleet, you saved my life, and I
believe I owe you quite as much in other