. But she did nothing of the sort. She
accepted. She did more. She held out her hand to him, and let him take
it in both of his in a friendly pressure as she thanked him.

"I'm--I'm very grateful," she said weakly. And the man flushed under
his sunburn, while his temples hammered as the hot young blood mounted
to his brain.

A moment later Buck stood staring at the angle of the barn round which
Joan had just vanished. He was half-dazed, and the only thing that
seemed absolutely real to him was the gentle pressure of her hand as
it had rested in his. He could feel it still; he could feel every
pressure of the soft, warm flesh where it had lain on his hard palms.
And all the time he stood there his whole body thrilled with an
emotion that was almost painful.

At last he stirred. He stooped and picked up the discarded fork. He
had no definite purpose. He was scarcely aware of his action. He held
it for a moment poised in the air. Then slowly he let the prongs of it
rest on the ground, and, leaning his chin on his hands clasped about
the haft, stared out at the hills and gave himself up to such a dream
as never before had entered his life.

The sun was dipping behind the snowcaps, and for half an hour the work
he had voluntarily undertaken remained untouched.

How much longer he would have remained lost in his wonderful dreaming
it would have been impossible to tell. But he was ruthlessly awakened,
and all his youthful ardor received a cold douche as the evening quiet
was suddenly broken by the harsh voices of the crowd of gold-seekers,
whom he suddenly beheld approaching the farm along the trail.

CHAPTER XII

THE GOLDEN WOMAN

Buck wondered as he noted the extraordinary picture of jubilation
which the approaching crowd presented. In all his association with
these people he had never witnessed anything to equal it or even come
near it. He never remembered anything like a real outburst of joy
during the long, dreary months since they had first camped on the
banks of Yellow Creek.

He watched the faces as they drew near. From the shelter of the barn,
whither he had retreated, he had them in full view. He looked for the
old, weary signs of their recent privations and sufferings. There were
none, not one. They had passed as utterly as though they had never
been.

It was a spectacle in which he found the greatest pleasure. The men
were clad in their work-stained clothing, their only clothing. Their
faces r