When at last the announcement was made that the engineer had come out of his swoon and probably would live, the sheriff and all the members of the posse not employes of Knowles prepared to ride down to Plum Creek ranch for the night. The cowman ordered his men to go down with the party, to water the horses and bring back food and water for the camp. The surgeon had said that his patient could not be moved for many days.

But before the party rode off, each man, from the sheriff to the youngest of the punchers, came to where Ashton was still lying on the grass, and took his limp hand in theirs. They did not grip it, for the tattered glove and shredded bandages were wet with blood; nor did they put into speech what they thought of him. A gruff word or two of fellowship and parting was all they gave him. Yet he saw and knew that he had won his place among these reddest blooded of all red-blooded men.

When one of his fellow employes came to him, leading Rocket, he sought to summon strength enough to rise, but found that he could not even turn on his side. He had driven his body to superhuman efforts. He must now pay the price. At his request, he was lifted up on Rocket, but he could not hold up his head, much less his body. They laid him again on the grass, and told Knowles his condition, before they rode off.

The cowman fetched the surgeon, who felt the pulse of the exhausted man, gave him a pellet, and hastened back to Blake. In a few moments Ashton's feeble, racing pulse became calm and slow, the wild whirl of his thoughts lulled. He sank into profound slumber.

When he awoke the sun of another day was just clearing the great white peaks of the snowy range. He was outstretched on a soft bed of blankets spread over a thick layer of pine needles. Above his face sloped the roof of a small tent. He had been cared for—but there was no one watching at his bedside. He thought he understood, and smiled in bitter resignation.

When he moved, racking pains shot through his stiff muscles. Only the renewed life that surged through his veins enabled him to turn and twist and bend until the pains subsided to a dull aching and he was able to command his limbs. His hands were swathed fast in bandages. He tore them off with his teeth until the fingers were free enough for use. After much effort, he succeeded in forcing his swollen feet into his boots.

In the midst Yuki, the Jap cook, appeared before the low entrance of the tent and sank down on his knees to set a trayful of food beside the occupant. He hissed a pleasant, "Good morning, Mistah Lafe!" and was gone before Ashton could reply. The aroma of hot coffee and the savory smell of chicken broth forced Ashton to forget all else than that he was famished. Besides the coffee and broth, there was a nogg of eggs and thick cream slightly flavored with whiskey. He drank one liquid after the other with the greediness of a starving man; nor did he stop until he had drained the last drop of all three. He could have followed with a hearty meal of solids, but the fluids were enough to stimulate him to renewed energy.

He crept out of his tent and looked around. Up where they had carried Blake from the precipices stood a larger tent. Near it, under a low-growing pine, the surgeon lay rolled in a blanket, fast asleep. Some distance away, in the other direction, Yuki and two of the ranch hands were building a stone fireplace. Beyond them were picketed three horses, the nearest of which was Rocket.

Ashton stood up and started rapidly towards the big rawboned horse. Within a few yards, however, his pace slackened. He faltered and stopped to look back at the larger tent. After a pause, he turned about and slowly approached the tent.

As he drew near he heard a murmur of voices barely distinguishable above the booming of the canyon. Again he faltered and stopped and stood hesitating. The open front of the tent faced at right angles to his line of approach. As he hesitated, he saw Isobel's head appear, veiled in the loose meshes of her chestnut hair. She looked about towards him, and drew back with a startled little cry.

He turned away to go to Rocket. A quick heavy step sounded behind him. Knowles had sprung out of the tent and was striding to overtake the retreating man.

"Hold on, Lafe," he ordered. "Where you going?"

Ashton faced him with quiet resolution. His eyes were dark with misery, but his once lax mouth was strangely like Blake's in its firm full lines.

"There's only one thing for me to do, Mr. Knowles," he replied. "I am going away. Your daughter will understand why."

"How're you going?" asked the cowman, his face impassive.

"I traded with Miss—Miss Knowles for Rocket. Didn't she ever tell you?"

"Don't matter if she did. Rocket wasn't her hawss to trade."

"Then, unless my pony is up here, I shall walk down as far as the ranch," said Ashton. He added with bitter humiliation: "It's well I have learned about Rocket in time. I've done enough, without adding horse thief to the list. I would have started at once, but I could not leave until I had asked about Mr. Blake. I wished to thank him for all that he has done for me."

"All that he—!" echoed Knowles. "If you want to know, it was a mighty narrow squeak. But we pulled him through. He's awake now and says he's doing fine. He wants to talk to you."

"I should like very much to do as he wishes, Mr. Knowles, but I—cannot bear to—meet her. You may realize that it is hard enough at best."

"Sho! If that's all," readily reassured the cowman, "I'll ask Chuckie to go out and hide in the bushes."

"But I could not allow that, you know."

"Then I figure you've got to come anyhow. Can't let you go off without saying good-by to him and Jenny."

"Jenny?" repeated Ashton.

"It's all in the family now," explained Knowles. "Tom has been telling us how he's got that irrigation project all figured out in his head. He was saying what he and Jenny had planned to do for us even before Chuckie let out her secret. Come on and hear the rest."

"I fear I must ask you to excuse me, Mr. Knowles. I—"

"No, you don't," rejoined the cowman. "After what you've done you can't make me believe you're afraid of anything. You'll come and face it out before you go."

The misery in Ashton's eyes deepened, and his lips tightened.

"Very well. Since you put it that way, I shall do as you wish, sir."

When he followed Knowles around to the door of the tent, Isobel, who was hastily braiding her loose hair, drew back into the far corner and averted her face from him. But Genevieve met him with a radiant smile and motioned him to kneel down beside her husband.

Blake, with one thick arm crooked about his sleeping son, lay with his eyes closed. His big square face was drawn and pallid, but there was a smile lurking in the corners of his mouth. As Ashton knelt beside him he looked up and lifted his free hand.

"You wouldn't take it—down there," he said.

Ashton flushed. "You know why."

"You'll take it now," said Blake, with quiet confidence.

"I will. I am going away," replied Ashton as he held out his bandaged hand.

The big palm closed over it in a clasp as gentle as it was strong.

"No, Lafe. I've got hold of you now. I can't let you go. I need you in my business. We're organizing the Belle Mesa Irrigation and Development Company.—How do you like my new name for Dry Mesa? Mr. Knowles puts in the reservoir site in exchange for water on his other land, a tenth share in the company, and a royalty of half the gold we placer out of the reservoir bed. As Jenny is to put up all the capital, she and I will take the lion's share. That will leave a tenth for you and a tenth for Belle."

Ashton sought to draw his hand away. "It is very good of you, Mr. Blake. But I cannot accept—"

"Yes, you can. You can't help yourself. Besides, I've an idea a man always does better by his work when he has a stake in the undertaking. You're to be our Resident Engineer, you know."

"Resident Engineer?" repeated Ashton, paling and flushing. "Mr. Blake, I—I—It's impossible that you can mean—"

"Make it 'Tom'! You'll have to brush up on mining engineering, too. There's the bonanza."

"Oh, yes, Tom!" exclaimed Genevieve. "Tell him about the gold mine."

"I was going to keep still about it till I had the apex located," he said. He looked full at Ashton. "But there's no one here that the secret will not be as safe with as it is with me. Besides, it's all in the family. I found the vein a thousand feet up the chute of Dry Fork Gulch. We will name it the Genevieve Lode. There are six of us here, counting Tommy. Each of us gets a sixth interest."

Ashton was now pale. "Mr. Blake—Tom, I cannot! If I were fit to stay and work for you—as an axman—anything!—"

Blake's eyes twinkled. "Then your sixth will have to go to Belle."

"Mine too, Tom," hastily put in Knowles.

Blake looked down solemnly at his youthful heir. "Hear that, Tommy? Guess we'll have to pull out, too, and make it half and half to the ladies." He looked up at Ashton with a swift change from mock to real gravity. "We've got to begin by installing a turbine power-plant down here. Where will I find another engineer with nerve enough to go down these cliffs? I need you, Lafe."

"I am very sorry, Tom." Ashton drew his hand from Blake's wearied clasp, and rose.

Isobel slipped past him and stood with her arms outstretched across the entrance of the tent. There was a dimple in each of her blushing cheeks; her eyes were radiant with tenderness and love.

"No, you can't get away!" she declared. "Don't you see how we've got you corralled?"

"That's what," confirmed Knowles. "I promised her to rope and hogtie you if you made a break."

Ashton was gazing into the girl's eyes, his own shining with reverent adoration.

"Isobel?" he whispered.

"Let us go up on the ridge and look out over our mesa," she murmured.

"Wait a moment, dear," interposed Genevieve. "Lafayette, I wish to tell you that as soon as Tom and I return to Chicago, we shall go to your father. I feel certain that when he hears—"

"No, no!" begged Ashton. "You must wait. Promise that you will wait. I have only begun to make a beginning. Wait until I see if I can—" He straightened and looked at Isobel, his head well up, his eyes as resolute as his mouth. "Wait until I have proved what I am."

"Come," said Isobel. "We're going to look at our dry mesa that we are to reclaim and make into a garden with the waste waters of the depths."

THE END