e of the charm of Miss
Presby herself, and that he wanted her, and had hoped unconsciously.
Sternly arraigning himself, he knew that he had no groundwork to hope,
and nothing to offer, just then; that he must first win with the Croix
d'Or, and that it was his first duty to win with that, and justify the
confidence of the kindly old Sloan who backed him with hard dollars.

He had not appreciated how much the daily meeting of Miss Presby meant
to him until, on the following morning, and acting on his hardly
reached resolution of the night before, he went up for what might be
the last time. It was difficult to realize that the short summer of
the altitudes was there in its splendid growth, and that it had
opened before his unobserving eyes, passed from the tender green of
spring to the deep-shaded depths of maturity, and that the wild
flowers that carpeted the open slopes had made way for roses. Even the
cross on the peak was different, and it came to him that he had not
observed it in the weeks he had been climbing to the slope, but had
always waited eagerly for the light of a woman's face.

She came cantering up the trail, and waved a gay hand at him as she
rounded the bend of the crag. There was a frank expectancy in her
face--the expectancy of a pleasant hour's visit with a good comrade.
He wondered, vaguely and with new scrutiny, if that were not all--just
friendliness. They talked of nothing; but his usual bantering tone was
gone, and, quick to observe, she divined that there had come to him a
subtle change, not without perturbation.

"You don't seem talkative to-day," she accused as he stood up,
preparatory to going. "Have you finished work on your pipe line?"

He flushed slightly under the bronze of his face at the question, it
being thus brought home to him that he had used it as a pretext for
continuing their meetings for more than two weeks after that task was
completed and the pipemen scattered--perhaps working in some subway
in New York by that time.

"Yes," he said, "the work is finished. I shall not come up here again
unless it is for the sole purpose of seeing you."

There was something in his tone that caused her to glance up at him
and there was that in his eyes, on his face, in his bearing of
restraint, that caused her to look around again, as if to escape, and
hastily begin donning her gloves. She pulled the fingers, though they
fitted loosely, as if she had difficulty with them--even as though
t