hastly thing, and, growing suddenly weak, as if for the
first time in his life he allowed his indomitable spirit to relax, his
head fell to one side, and he lay in a limp faint.

Chapter Twenty-eight

_Hope Deferred_

Time in six months brought the year to the early spring, that time when
even the mountain desert forgets its sternness for a month or two. Six
months had not made Bill Gregg rich from his mine, but it had convinced
him, on the contrary, that a man with a wife must have a sure income,
even if it be a small one.

He squatted on a small piece of land, gathered a little herd, and,
having thrown up a four-room shack, he and Caroline lived as happily as
king and queen. Not that domains were very large, but, from their hut on
the hill, they could look over a fine sweep of country, which did not
all belong to them, to be sure, but which they constantly promised
themselves should one day be theirs.

It was the dull period of the afternoon, the quiet, waiting period which
comes between three or four o'clock and the sunset, and Bill and his
wife sat in the shadow of the mighty silver spruce before their door.
The great tree was really more of a home for them than the roof they had
built to sleep under.

Presently Caroline stood up and pointed. "She's coming," she said, and,
looking down the hillside, she smiled in anticipation.

The rider below them, winding up the trail, looked up and waved, then
urged her horse to a full gallop for the short remnant of the distance
before her. It was Ruth Tolliver who swung down from the saddle,
laughing and joyous from the ride.

A strangely changed Ruth she was. She had turned to a brown beauty in
the wind and the sun of the West, a more buoyant and more graceful
beauty. She had accepted none of the offers of John Mark, but, leaving
her old life entirely behind her, as Ronicky Doone had suggested, she
went West to make her own living. With Caroline and Bill Gregg she had
found a home, and her work was teaching the valley school, half a dozen
miles away.

"Any mail?" asked Bill, for she passed the distant group of mail boxes
on her way to the school.

At that the face of the girl darkened. "One letter," she said, "and I
want you to read it aloud, Caroline. Then we'll all put our heads
together and see if we can make out what it means." She handed the
letter to Caroline, who shook it out. "It's from Ronicky," she
exclaimed.

"It's from Ronicky," said Ruth Tol