capitalist to give him this last hour, in which to get into a fresh suit
and have his beard trimmed. Bradford wore a beard always now, not
because a handsome beard makes a handsome man handsomer, but because it
covered and hid the hideous scar in his chin that had been carved there
by the Sioux chief.

When the black porter bowed and showed Bradford into Mr. Manning's
private car, the pleasure of their late meeting and the Judge's kindly
greeting vanished instantly. It was all submerged and swept away,
obliterated and forgotten in the great wave of inexpressible joy that
now filled and thrilled his throbbing heart, for it was Mary Manning who
came forward to greet him. For nearly an hour she and her father had
been listening to the wonderful story of the last five years of the
engineer's life. When the wily General caught the drift of the young
lady's mind, and had been informed of the conditional engagement of the
young people, he left nothing unsaid that would add to the fame and
glory of the trail-maker. With radiant face she heard of his heroism,
tireless industry, and wonderful engineering feats; but when the
narrator came to tell how he had been captured and held and tortured by
the Indians, she slipped her trembling hand into the hand of her
father, and when he saw her hot tears falling he lifted the hand and
kissed it, leaving upon it tears of his own.

The Judge now produced his cigar case, and the General, bowing to the
young lady, followed the great financier to the other end of the car,
leaving Mary alone, for they had seen Bradford coming up the track.

The dew of her sweet sorrow was still upon her face when Bradford
entered, but the sunshine of her smile soon dried it up. The hands he
reached for escaped him. They were about his face; then their great joy