imed directly at him, the
one thing intended for his understanding alone. It was playing "When
Johnny Comes Marching Home."

Mary Standish had not moved. He saw her laughing at him, and she was
alone. She was not the Mary Standish he had known aboard ship. Fear, the
quiet pallor of her face, and the strain and repression which had seemed
to be a part of her were gone. She was aflame with life, yet it was not
with voice or action that she revealed herself. It was in her eyes, the
flush of her cheeks and lips, the poise of her slim body as she waited
for him. A thought flashed upon him that for a space she had forgotten
herself and the shadow which had driven her to leap into the sea.

"It is splendid!" she said when he came up to her, and her voice
trembled a little. "I didn't guess how badly they wanted you back. It
must be a great happiness to have people think of you like that."

"And I thank you for your part," he replied. "Stampede has told me. It
was quite a bit of trouble, wasn't it, with nothing more than the hope
of Americanizing a pagan to inspire you?" He nodded at the half-dozen
flags over his cabin. "They're rather pretty."

"It was no trouble. And I hope you don't mind. It has been great fun."

He tried to look casually out upon his people as he answered her. It
seemed to him there was only one thing to say, and that it was a duty to
speak what was in his mind calmly and without emotion.

"Yes, I do mind," he said. "I mind so much that I wouldn't trade what
has happened for all the gold in these mountains. I'm sorry because of
what happened back in the cottonwoods, but I wouldn't trade that,
either. I'm glad you're alive. I'm glad you're here. But something is
missing. You know what it is. You must tell me about yourself. It is the
only fair thing for you to do now."

She touched his arm with her hand. "Let us wait for tomorrow.
Please--let us wait."

"And then--tomorrow--"

"It is your right to question me and send me back if I am not welcome.
But not tonight. All this is too fine--just you--and your people--and
their happiness." He bent his head to catch her words, almost drowned by
the hissing of a sky-rocket and the popping of firecrackers. She nodded
toward the buildings beyond his cabin. "I am with Keok and Nawadlook.
They have given me a home." And then swiftly she added, "I don't think
you love your people more than I do, Alan Holt!"

Nawadlook was approaching, and with a lingering touch