w that the choice had been made between the treasures he was
tingling to get to work.

"Here's your money," he said as soon as Bunker appeared, "and I'd like
to order some powder and steel. Just write me out a quit-claim for that
ground."

"Well, well," beamed Bunker pushing up his reading glasses and counting
over the roll of bills, "this will make quite a stake for Drusilla. Come
in, Mr. Russell, come in!"

He held the door open and Denver entered, blinking his eyes as he came
in from the glare. The room was a large one, with a grand piano at one
end and music and books strewn about; and as Bunker Hill shouted for his
wife and daughter Denver stared about in astonishment. From the outside
the house was like any other, except that it was covered with vines; but
here within it was startling in its elegance, fitted up with every
luxury. There was a fireplace with bronze andirons, massive furniture,
expensive rugs; and the walls were lined with stands and book-shelves
that overflowed with treasures.

"Oh Drusilla!" thundered Bunker and at last she came running, bounding
in through the garden door. She was attired in a filmy robe, caught up
for dancing, and her feet were in Grecian sandals; and at sight of
Denver she drew back a step, then stood firm and glanced at her father.

"Here's that five hundred dollars," said Bunker briefly and put the roll
in her hand.

"Oh--did you sell it?" she demanded in dismay "did you sell that Number
One claim?"

"You bet I did," answered her father grimly, "so take your money and
beat it."

"But I told you not to!" she went on reproachfully, ignoring Denver
entirely. "I told you not to sell it!"

"That's all right," grumbled Bunker, "you're going to get your chance,
if it takes the last cow in the barn. I know you've got it in you to be
a great singer--and this'll take you back to New York."

"Well, all right," she responded tremulously, "I did want just one more
chance. But if I don't succeed I'm going to teach school and pay every
dollar of this back."

She turned and disappeared out the garden door and Bunker Hill reached
for his hat.

"Come on over to the store," he said and Denver followed in a daze. She
was not like any woman he had ever dreamed of, nor was she the woman he
had thought. In the night, when she was singing, she had seemed slender
and ethereal with her swan's neck and piled up hair; but now she was
different, a glorious human animal, strong and supple y