wreckage of so many human hopes;
tears for the mother who had borne that unworthy son, but whose heart
was tender for him as if his soul had been without a stain; tears for
the old man whose spirit was broken, and tears for herself and her own
dreams, and all the tender things which she had allowed to spring within
her breast.

After a long time Dr. Slavens came out of the hospital-tent and let the
flap down after him. The sun was striking long, slanting shadows across
the barrens; the fire was dying out of its touch. Agnes' heart sank as
she saw the doctor draw away a little distance, and then turn and walk a
little beat, back and forth, back and forth, his head bowed, his hands
clasped behind him in an attitude of thorough disappointment and deep
gloom. She got up and went to him, a feeling that all was over.

"Never mind," she consoled, lifting her tear-streaked face to meet his
haggard look. "You've lost, but I have come to tell you that it makes no
difference between us. We will go on with our life together as we
planned it; we will take up our dreams."

"Agnes, you have come in good time," said he, lifting his hand to his
forehead wearily.

"I am not noble enough to sacrifice my happiness for your good," she
continued. "I am too weak and common, and womanly frail for that. I
cannot carry out my brave resolution, now that you've lost. We will go
away together, according to your plan, and I will live by your plan,
always and forever."

"You have come in good time--in good time," said he again, as one
speaking in a daze.

Then he drew her to his breast, where her head lay fair and bright, her
straying hair, spread like a shattered sunbeam, lifting in the young
wind that came from the hills beyond the river.

There she rested against the rock of his strength, his hand caressing
her wild tresses, the quiver of her sobbing breast stirring him like a
warm and quickening draught.

"You did well to come and tell me this," said he, "for, as I love you,
my dear, dear woman, I would not have had you on the other terms. But I
have not lost. Jerry Boyle has emerged from the shadow. He will live."

* * * * *

After that day when his adventuring soul strayed so near the portal
which opens in but one direction, Boyle's recovery was rapid. Ten days
later they loaded him into a wagon to take him to Comanche, thence to
his father's home by rail.

Young Boyle was full of the int