, plum-beaten, done for. Just about able to crawl
into the nearest camp, and that's about all. I've covered fifty stiff
miles myself, so here's for bed. Good-night. Don't call me in the
mornin'."

He turned into the blankets all-standing, and as he dozed off Vance
could hear him muttering, "_How far is it, my man_? _I say, how far is
it_?"

Regarding Lucile, Corliss was disappointed. "I confess I cannot
understand her," he said to Colonel Trethaway. "I thought her bench
claim would make her independent of the Opera House."

"You can't get a dump out in a day," the colonel interposed.

"But you can mortgage the dirt in the ground when it prospects as hers
does. Yet I took that into consideration, and offered to advance her a
few thousand, non-interest bearing, and she declined. Said she didn't
need it,--in fact, was really grateful; thanked me, and said that any
time I was short to come and see her."

Trethaway smiled and played with his watch-chain. "What would you?
Life, even here, certainly means more to you and me than a bit of grub,
a piece of blanket, and a Yukon stove. She is as gregarious as the
rest of us, and probably a little more so. Suppose you cut her off
from the Opera House,--what then? May she go up to the Barracks and
consort with the captain's lady, make social calls on Mrs. Schoville,
or chum with Frona? Don't you see? Will you escort her, in daylight,
down the public street?"

"Will you?" Vance demanded.

"Ay," the colonel replied, unhesitatingly, "and with pleasure."

"And so will I; but--" He paused and gazed gloomily into the fire.
"But see how she is going on with St. Vincent. As thick as thieves
they are, and always together."

"Puzzles me," Trethaway admitted. "I can grasp St. Vincent's side of
it. Many irons in the fire, and Lucile owns a bench claim on the
second tier of French Hill. Mark me, Corliss, we can tell infallibly
the day that Frona consents to go to his bed and board,--if she ever
does consent."

"And that will be?"

"The day St. Vincent breaks with Lucile."

Corliss pondered, and the colonel went on.

"But I can't grasp Lucile's side of it. What she can see in St.
Vincent--"

"Her taste is no worse than--than that of the rest of the women," Vance
broke in hotly. "I am sure that--"

"Frona could not display poor taste, eh?" Corliss turned on his heel
and walked out, and left Colonel Trethaway smiling grimly.

Vance Corliss never knew h