disappeared. Nasmyth leaned against a wooden pillar, and
Waynefleet sat still, waiting for him to speak. Nasmyth turned to
him.

"It would, perhaps, be preferable to regard this affair from a
strictly business point of view," said Nasmyth. "You are, of course,
in our hands, but to save your credit and to protect Miss Waynefleet
from any embarrassment, we shall probably not insist upon your handing
over the land to anybody else. I think we are safe in doing that. Now
that you have signally failed, you will not have nerve enough to
attempt to betray us again."

Waynefleet waved his hand. "I resent the attitude you have adopted. It
is not by any means what I am accustomed to, or should have expected
from you."

Nasmyth felt a faint, contemptuous pity for the man, who still
endeavoured to retain his formality of manner.

"I'm afraid that hasn't any great effect on me, and my attitude is, at
least, a natural one," he said. "I believe that Gordon and I can
arrange that the boys do not hear of your recent action, and though
you will take no further part in our affairs, you will stay on at the
ranch. I may mention that I have just bought up your mortgage."

A flush of anger showed in Waynefleet's cheeks.

"Is it in any way your business where I live?" he asked.

"No," answered Nasmyth, "not in the least--that is, as far as it
affects yourself. Still, I am determined that Miss Waynefleet shall
have no fresh cause for anxiety. I don't mind admitting that I owe a
great deal to her." He paused for a moment, and then turned to
Waynefleet with a forceful gesture. "When you have bought back the
land from Hames, I don't suppose you will have a dollar in your
possession, and the ranch belongs to me. As I said, you will stay--at
least, until you can satisfy me that you can maintain yourself and
Miss Waynefleet in some degree of comfort if you go away. Now I
believe the others are waiting. We will go along and get the sale
recorded."

CHAPTER XXX

SECOND THOUGHTS

It was getting dusk when Wheeler swung himself from the saddle near
the head of the gully and, with the bridle of the jaded horse in his
hand, stood still a few moments looking about him. A wonderful green
transparency still shone high up above the peaks, whose jagged edges
cut into it sharply with the cold blue-white gleam of snow, but upon
the lower slopes there was a balmy softness in the air, which was
heavy with the odours of fir and cedar. Summer was