"Thank you."

She went on.

Behind her, the two men stood where she had left them. They did not move.
The younger man seemed scarcely to breathe.

"Bill's place!" he gasped then. "I've a notion to tell her. I can't
believe----"

"Shucks!" interjected the other.

"But I don't. She isn't that sort. She looked like a Madonna--with the
heart of her clean gone. I never saw anything so white an' so beautiful.
You call me a fool if you want to--I'm goin' on to Bill's!"

He strode ahead, chivalry in his young and palpitating heart. Quickly the
older man was at his side, clutching his arm.

"Come along, you cotton-head!" he cried. "You ain't old enough or big
enough in this camp to mix in with Bill. Besides," he lied, seeing the
wavering light in the youth's eyes, "I know her. She's going to the right
place."

At Bill's place men were holding their breath and staring. They were not
unaccustomed to women. But such a one as this vision that walked calmly and
undisturbed in among them they had never seen. There were half a dozen
lounging there, smoking and listening to the phonograph, which some one now
stopped that they might hear every word that was spoken. The girl's head
was high. She was beginning to understand that it would have been less