"I do not deny that he has a very good appearance indeed. But--well, he
was brought up in San Francisco and no one ever heard of his parents. He
admitted to me at the table that his father was only a clerk in a broker's
office. He is not one of us and that is the end of it."

"Why not make him one? Quite easy. And you ought to rejoice in what power
you have left."

She rose and stretched and yawned in a most unladylike fashion.

"I'm going to make a cup of coffee for our sentinel, and have a little chat
with him, chaperoned by the great bonfire. Don't think you can stop me, for
you can't. Heavens, what a noise that dynamite does make! We shall have to
shout. It will be more than proper. Good night, darling."




CHAPTER VII



I


Gora Dwight with a quick turn of a strong and supple wrist flung a folding
chair up through the trap door of the roof. She followed with a pitcher of
water, opened the chair, and sat down.

It was the second day of the fire, which was now raging in the valleys