she ran to Argyl!

"Argyl, Argyl," she cried, stopping abruptly, her two hands pressed to
her breast, "I am so wretched! I don't deserve to live! I have been
so mean, so little--" She broke off into passionate weeping.

Argyl went swiftly to her, putting her arms about the girl's shaking
shoulders.

"Jocelyn, dear," she said, softly. "Don't!"

"I have been wicked, wicked!" Jocelyn was sobbing. "They told me what
has happened--about the dam--about Roger Hapgood!" She broke off,
shuddering.

"But," Argyl was saying, trying to soothe her, "that is not your
fault, Jocelyn."

"Oh!" cried Jocelyn, wildly. "You don't know. It was I, I who
suggested the horrible thing to Roger Hapgood. It is I who am to blame
for everything."

"Hush, child! You have been a naughty little girl, that is all. You
didn't know what it was that you were doing--and you are not a bit to
blame!"

"And--and--and I have been such a little fool! I have just been a
vain, conceited little fool. And I hated you--because I knew all the
time that you were prettier than I am. And--and I was ashamed of Pete,
and I made fun of him--and now he has gone away and--and I love him. I
don't care if he has got red hair and can't read! I love him--so
there!"

Lonesome Pete, coming back with his armful of firewood, dropped it,
and for a moment stood staring from one to another, his mouth wide
open. And then, forgetful of Conniston, pushing Argyl away as he came
forward, he took Jocelyn's quivering form into his arms and drew her
close to him.

"Miss Jocelyn," he cried, suddenly, "I ain't goin' away! Don't you
think it. An' you ain't to blame for nothin' whatever! You're jest a
little girl as has made a slip or two--who in hell ain't, huh?"--with
belligerent, flashing eyes--"an' I'll dye my hair any color you say as
you like better 'n red!"

* * * * *

"I am going East to-morrow, Mr. Conniston." Jimmie Kent was speaking,
his eyes very keen. "Before I go I'd like to make you a proposition.
First, do you know what firm it is I represent? Maybe you have heard
of the W. I. R.? That means the Western Improvement and Reclamation
Company. The board of directors met the other day in Denver, and
against his protest made Mr. Crawford its first vice-president. The
company plans on the reclamation of many thousands of square miles of
sand and sage-brush in Colorado and Nevada. The company wants a
competent engineer to act as general sup