looks very much like Hope.'' He decided that he would let it
remain where it was until Hope gave him a better one; and smiling
slightly he snapped the lid fast, as though he were closing a
door on the face of Alice Langham and locking it forever.

Kirkland was in the cab of the locomotive that brought the
soldiers from the mine. He stopped the first car in front of the
freight station until the workmen had filed out and formed into a
double line on the platform. Then he moved the train forward the
length of that car, and those in the one following were mustered
out in a similar manner. As the cars continued to come in, the
men at the head of the double line passed on through the freight
station and on up the road to the city in an unbroken column.
There was no confusion, no crowding, and no haste.

When the last car had been emptied, Clay rode down the line and
appointed a foreman to take charge of each company, stationing
his engineers and the Irish-Americans in the van. It looked more
like a mob than a regiment. None of the men were in
uniform, and the native soldiers were barefoot. But they showed
a winning spirit, and stood in as orderly an array as though they
were drawn up in line to receive their month's wages. The
Americans in front of the column were humorously disposed, and
inclined to consider the whole affair as a pleasant outing. They
had been placed in front, not because they were better shots than
the natives, but because every South American thinks that every
citizen of the United States is a master either of the rifle or
the revolver, and Clay was counting on this superstition. His
assistant engineers and foremen hailed him as he rode on up and
down the line with good-natured cheers, and asked him when they