even to his dearest friend, would he
tell the forecasting of his death; and as for dearest friends, if he
ever had another pardner he could never trust him a minute. The chance
slipping of a pick, a missed stroke with a hammer, any one of a thousand
trivial accidents, and the words of the prophecy would come to pass--he
would be killed before his time. But if he favored one man no more than
another, if he avoided his former pardners and friends, then he might
live to be one of the biggest mining men in the country and to win
Drusilla for his wife.

"I'll tell you," he said meditatively, "you'd better keep away from her.
A man does better without it. Suppose she'd tell you, for instance, that
you'd get killed in a cave like she did Jack Chambers over in Globe;
you'd be scared then, all the time you were under ground--it ruins a man
for a miner. No, it's better not to know it at all. Just go ahead, the
best you know how, and play your cards to win, and I'll bet it won't be
but a year or two until you're a regular operatic star. They'll be
selling your records for three dollars apiece, and all those managers
will be bidding for you; but if Mother Trigedgo should tell you some bad
news it might hurt you--it might spoil your nerve."

"Oh, did she tell you something?" cried Drusilla apprehensively. "Do
tell me what it was! I won't breathe it to a soul; and if you could
share it with some friend, don't you think it would ease your mind?"

Denver looked at her slowly, then he turned away and shook his head in
refusal.

"Oh, Denver!" she exclaimed as she sensed the significance of it, and
before he knew it she was patting his work-hardened hand. "I'm sorry,"
she said, "but if ever I can help you I want you to let me know. Would
it help to have me for a friend?"

"A friend!" he repeated, and then he drew back and the horror came into
his eyes. She was his friend already, the dearest friend he had--was she
destined then to kill him?

"No!" he said, "I don't want any friends. Come on, I believe that's
McGraw."

He rose up hastily and held out his hand to help her but she refused to
accept his aid. Her lips were trembling, there were tears in her eyes
and her breast was beginning to heave; but there was no explanation he
could give. He wanted her, yes, but not as a friend--as his beloved, his
betrothed, his wife! By any name, but not by the name of friend. He drew
away slowly as her head bowed to her knees; and at last he le