interest in that hive of noise and sweating energy? But even as
he stood arguing with himself his eyes fell on a slight figure
sitting erect and graceful on her pony's back, her white habit
soiled and stained red with the ore of the mines, and green where
it had crushed against the leaves. She was coming slowly up the
trail with a body-guard of half a dozen men crowding closely
around her, telling her the difficulties of the work, and
explaining their successes, and eager for a share of her quick
sympathy.

Clay's eyes fixed themselves on the picture, and he smiled at its
significance. Miss Langham noticed the look, and glanced below
to see what it was that had so interested him, and then back at
him again. He was still watching the approaching cavalcade
intently, and smiling to himself. Miss Langham drew in her
breath and raised her head and shoulders quickly, like a deer
that hears a footstep in the forest, and when Hope presently
stepped out upon the porch, she turned quickly toward her, and
regarded her steadily, as though she were a stranger to her, and
as though she were trying to see her with the eyes of one who
looked at her for the first time.

``Hope!'' she said, ``do look at your dress!''

Hope's face was glowing with the unusual exercise, and her
eyes were brilliant. Her hair had slipped down beneath the visor
of her helmet.

``I am so tired--and so hungry.'' She was laughing and looking
directly at Clay. ``It has been a wonderful thing to have