. Now, unless
you have any more convincing excuses, you may tell me about the search
for the mine."

Weston did so, and, for the mere pleasure of having her near him, he
made rather a long tale of it. She stood where the vestibule of the
car in front partly sheltered her from the rush of the cold night
wind, swaying lightly to the jolting of the platform as the great
train sped on among the pines. Still, her light dress which gleamed
white in the moonlight fluttered about her and now and then flowed
against her companion. The simple tale of stress and effort borne and
made was one that went well with the snorting of the big locomotives
toiling up the climbing track and the rhythmic roar of wheels flung
back by primeval forest or towering wall of rock. The girl had
imagination enough to realize it.

"Oh," she said, "one likes to hear of such things."

Then she noticed the gauntness of his bronzed face and how lean he
was.

"Still," she added, "it has left its mark on you. You failed to find
the mine--it wasn't your fault--what are you going to do now?"

"Some day," said Weston, "I shall go back and search again."

He had made the resolution only that moment, but she saw the sudden
glint in his eyes.

"It was in the meanwhile I meant," she said.

"I am going a little way up the track with my partner to a
copper-mine."

"Ah," said the girl reflectively, "I suppose you feel that you must
take that man?"

"What else could I do with him?"

Ida's eyes softened curiously. After the scene at the station she
fancied that she understood the responsibility that he had taken upon
himself.

"And suppose they don't want you at the mine?"

"In that case we should go on again somewhere else."

"Of course your partner, who can earn nothing, will go with you."

Then she spoke almost sharply.

"How much money have you in your joint possession?"

"Three or four dollars," said Weston.

Again she turned toward him with a flush on her face.

"Now," she said, "I think you can disregard trivial conventionalities.
Won't you let me lend you some?"

"No," replied Weston quietly. "I shall not forget that you offered it,
but I'm afraid it's quite out of the question."

She knew that he meant it, and, though she greatly desired to lessen
his difficulties, she was, for no reason that was very apparent at the
moment, pleased with his answer. Then she changed the subject.

"Can your partner cook?" she asked.

"No," answere