seen,'' she said, tugging at her heavy gauntlet, ``and to have
done,'' she added. She pulled off her glove and held out her
hand to Clay, moist and scarred with the pressure of the reins.

``Thank you,'' she said, simply.

The master of the mines took it with a quick rush of gratitude,
and looking into the girl's eyes, saw something there that
startled him, so that he glanced quickly past her at the circle
of booted men grouped in the door behind her. They were each
smiling in appreciation of the tableau; her father and Ted,
MacWilliams and Kirkland, and all the others who had helped him.
They seemed to envy, but not to grudge, the whole credit which
the girl had given to him.

Clay thought, ``Why could it not have been the other?'' But he
said aloud, ``Thank YOU. You have given me my reward.''

Miss Langham looked down impatiently into the valley below, and
found that it seemed more hot and noisy, and more grimy than
before.


VI

Clay believed that Alice Langham's visit to the mines had opened
his eyes fully to vast differences between them. He laughed and
railed at himself for having dared to imagine that he was in a
position to care for her. Confident as he was at times, and sure
as he was of his ability in certain directions, he was uneasy and