ine to me. These, I know, seem very curious qualifications for a
son-in-law, but it seemed just to tell you. Need I explain further?"

"No," answered Savine, whose face had grown serious. "Thanks for your
honesty. I guess I know the weaknesses you mean--the greatest of them
is whiskey. I've had scores of brilliant men it has driven out from
Europe to shovel dirt for me. It's not good news, Thurston. How long
have you made head against your inherited failings?"

"Since I could understand things clearly," was the steady answer. "I
feared only what might happen, and would never have spoken had I not
felt that this country had helped me to break the entail, and set me
free. You know all, sir, and to my disadvantage I have put it before
you tersely, but there is another aspect."

Thurston's tone carried conviction with it, but Savine cut him short.
"It is the practical aspect that appeals to me," he said. He stared
down at the river for several minutes before he asked:

"Have you any reason to believe that Helen reciprocates the attachment?"

"No." Geoffrey's face fell. "Once or twice I ventured almost to hope
so; more often I feared the opposite. All I ask is the right to wait
until the time seems ripe, and know that I shall have your good will if
it ever does. I could accept no further benefits from your hands until
I had told you."

"You have it now," Savine declared very gravely. "As you know, my life
is uncertain, and I believe you faithful and strong enough to take care
of Helen. After all, what more could I look for? Still, if she does
not like you, there will be an end of the matter. It may be many would
blame me for yielding, but I believe I could trust you, Thurston--and
there are things they do not know."

Savine sighed after the last words. His face clouded. Then he added
abruptly: "Speak when it suits you, Thurston, and good luck to you.
There are reasons besides the fact that I'm an old man why I should
envy you."

Had Geoffrey been less exultant he might have noticed something curious
in Savine's expression, but he was too full of his heart's desire to be
conscious of more than the one all-important fact that Helen's father
wished him well. It was in a mood of high hopefulness he assisted Mr.
Savine during the arduous scramble up out of the canyon. Later his
elation was diminished by the recollection that he had yet to win the
good will of Miss Savine.

* * *