filled her eyes. She was
remembering that the white, stinging death that had crept upon these men
so swiftly had missed her by a hair's breadth. The strong, lusty life
had been stricken out of the big Cornishman and probably of his partner
in crime. Perhaps they had left mothers or wives or sweethearts to mourn
them.

Macdonald relieved Elliot at breaking trail and the young man went back
to the gee-pole. They had discarded mukluks and wore moccasins and
snowshoes. It was hard, slow work, for the trail-breaker had to fight
his way through snow along the best route he could find. The moon was
high when at last they reached the roadhouse.

CHAPTER XXXII

DIANE CHANGES HER MIND

The news of Sheba's safety had been telephoned to Diane from the
roadhouse, so that all the family from Peter down were on the porch to
welcome her with mingled tears and kisses. Since Gordon had to push on
to the hospital to have Holt taken care of, it was Macdonald who brought
the girl home. The mine-owner declined rather brusquely an invitation to
stay to dinner on the plea that he had business at the office which
would not wait.

Impulsively Sheba held out both her hands to him. "Believe me, I am
thanking you with the whole of my heart, my friend. And I'm praying for
you the old Irish blessing, 'God save you kindly.'"

The deep-set, rapacious eyes of the Scotchman burned into hers for an
instant. Without a word he released her hands and turned away.

Her eyes followed him, a vital, dynamic American who would do big,
lawless things to the day of his death. She sighed. He had been a great
figure in her life, and now he had passed out of it.

[Illustration: FOR HIM THE BEAUTY OF THE NIGHT LAY LARGELY IN HER
PRESENCE]

As soon as she was alone with Diane, her Irish cousin dropped the little
bomb she had up her sleeve.

"I'm going to be married Thursday, Di."

Mrs. Paget embraced her for the tenth time within the hour. She was very
fond of Sheba, and she had been on a great strain concerning her safety.
That out of her danger had resulted the engagement Diane had hoped for
was surplusage of good luck.

"You lucky, sensible girl."

Sheba assented demurely. "I do think I'm sensible as well as lucky. It
isn't every girl that knows the right man for her even when he wants
her. But I know at last. He's the man for me out of ten million."

"I'm sure of it, dear. Oh, I am _so_ glad." Diane hugged her again.
She couldn't help it.