MacWilliams looked doubtfully at Clay, as though from force of
habit he must ask advice from his chief first, and then took the
hands that she held out to him and shook them up and down. His
usual confidence seemed to have forsaken him, and he stood,
shifting from one foot to the other, smiling and abashed.

``Well, I always said they didn't make them any better than
you,'' he gasped at last. ``I was always telling him that,
wasn't I?'' He nodded energetically at Clay. ``And that's so;
they don't make 'em any better than you.''

He dropped her hands and crossed over to Clay, and stood
surveying him with a smile of wonder and admiration.

``How'd you do it?'' he demanded. ``How did you do it? I
suppose you know,'' he asked sternly, ``that you're not good
enough for Miss Hope? You know that, don't you?''

``Of course I know that,'' said Clay.

MacWilliams walked toward the door and stood in it for a
second, looking back at them over his shoulder. ``They don't
make them any better than that,'' he reiterated gravely, and
disappeared in the direction of the horses, shaking his head and
muttering his astonishment and delight.

``Please give me some money,'' Hope said to Clay. ``All the
money you have,'' she added, smiling at her presumption of
authority over him, ``and you, too, Ted.'' The men emptied their
pockets, and Hope poured the mass of silver into the hands of the