ad heard the shots. Her eyes were open and turned curiously upon
him as he came swiftly to where she lay.

"Will you give me some water?" she whispered.

He lifted her head, and she drank thirstily, looking with reproachful
surprise at him when he took the canteen from her lips.

"That is all now, Argyl," he told her, his voice choking. And then,
all power of restraint swept away from him by the joyous, throbbing
love which so long he had silenced, he drew her close, closer to him,
crying, almost harshly: "Oh, Argyl, thank God! For if you hadn't come
back to me--I love you, love you! Don't you know how I love you,
Argyl?"

Her hand closed weakly upon his.

"Of course, dear," she answered him, faintly, her poor lips trying to
smile. "Of course we love each other. But can't I have a little water,
dear?"

CHAPTER XXIV

It was the twentieth day of September by the calendar--ten days before
the first of October as every man, woman, and child in the Valley
measured time.

Conniston came and went superintending every part of the work, and,
although he was still the gaunt, tired man he had been two weeks ago,
he was no longer tight-lipped and somber-eyed. He smiled often; he
laughed readily, like a boy. Argyl, her clean, healthy, resilient
young body and spirit having shaken off the effects of the clutch of
the desert, was the same Argyl who had raced for the Overland Limited
that day when Conniston had first seen her; her laugh was as
spontaneous as his, sparkling and free and buoyantly youthful. Mr.
Crawford was quiet, saying few words, but the little lines of care had
gone from the corners of eyes and mouth. Tommy Garton was the
proverbial cricket on the hearth of the Valley's big family. Brayley
looked upon his ditches with the gleam in his eye bespeaking a deep
pride like the pride of ownership and a big, strong love. Jimmie Kent
assured whomever would listen that he was glad that he had stayed, and
that he had a mind to call on his old friend Oliver to see how he was
feeling. Rattlesnake Valley had become the Happy Valley. With the
first of October ten days off there was no shadow of doubt in a single
heart that the Great Work would be a finished, actual, successful
thing before the dawn of the Great Day.

Upon the twentieth day of September Greek Conniston, being in Valley
City, received a telegram which puzzled him. It was from Edwin
Corliss, private secretary and confidential man of affairs of Willi