y of human judgment. When one whom we have expected to
rise up out of the smoke of obscurity or the fog of calumniation fails in
what we feel to be his obligation to the world and ourselves--especially
ourselves--faith falters in its place, and gives way to reproach, bitter
words, hot arraignments. There is no scorn like the scorn of one who has
been a friend.

And still Agnes kept her faith that Dr. Slavens was blameless for his
unexplained disappearance and prolonged absence deep-anchored in her
heart. But there was a surface irritation at that moment, a disposition
to censure and scold. For nothing short of death should keep a man away
from the main chance of his career, thought she, and she could not
believe that he was dead.

It was altogether disappointing, depressing. He should have come; he
should have moved the encumbering obstacles out of his way, no matter
what their bulk. Not so much for his own sake maybe, when all was
refined to its base of thought, as for the redemption of her faith and
trust.

"I don't care to stay and see them file," said she, turning away. "I'll
get enough of it, I suppose, when my turn comes, waiting in line that
way in the sun."

"There's a special stage out for Comanche at eleven," said William, his
watch in his hand. "If I can get a seat I'll return on it. It's time I
was back in the shop."

"For," he might have added if he had expressed his thoughts, "no matter
what I think of you, Agnes, I see that it would be useless for me to
hang around and hope. Dr. Slavens has stepped into the door of your
heart, and there is no room for anybody else to pass."

But he left it unsaid, standing with his head bent as if in meditation,
his watch in his hand.

"Two minutes more," he announced.

"I'm moving from the hotel," said she quickly, "to a room I've taken
with a dear old lady in a funny little house among the trees. It's
cheaper for me while I wait to file. I'll see you to say good-bye."

She hurried away, leaving the two men standing looking after her, Horace
smiling, for he did not altogether understand. William could see deeper.
He knew that she was afraid lest her disappointment would burst out in
tears if she remained to see Axel Peterson square his elbows on the
shelf before the window and make entry on Claim Number One.

A clerk within the office was pounding on the window-sash, for the paint
which the building had been treated to in honor of the occasion had
gummed it