r with them.
They might sit in their rooms and sob, or they might starve. It did
not much matter. A check was only a bit of paper. Under such
conditions it might be good or not. Gold was what counted--gold and
men. Broad backs counted, and stout legs.

Monte took a deep breath. Now--it might be possible that he would
count. It was so that his grandfather had counted. He had fought his
way across a continent and back for just such another woman as Marjory.
Life had been primitive then. It was primitive now. Men and women
were forced to stand together and take the long road side by side.

The blood rushed to Monte's head. He must get to her at once. She
would need him now--if only for a little while. He must carry her
home. She could not go without him.

He started down the steps of the bank, two at a time, and almost ran
against her. She was on her way to the bank as he had been, in search
of gold. Her eyes greeted him with the welcome her lips would not.

"You see!" he exclaimed, with a quick laugh.

"When you need me I come."

She was dressed in the very traveling costume she had worn when they
left Paris together. She was wearing, too, the same hat. It might
have been yesterday.

"They refused my check at the hotel," she explained nervously. "They
say they must have gold."

"Have you any?" he asked.

"One louis d'or."

"And I have ten," he informed her.

She did not understand why he should be so exultant over this fact.

"I have come here to get enough to pay my bill and buy my ticket. I am
leaving this morning."

"They won't give you any," he explained. "Besides, they won't carry
you on the train unless you put on a uniform."

"Monte!"

"It's a fact."

"Then--what am I to do?"

She looked quite helpless--deliciously helpless.

He laughed joyously.

"You are bankrupt," he said. "So am I. We have only fifty-five
dollars between us. But that is something. Also there is the machine.
That will take us over the Italian frontier and to Genoa. I ought to
be able to sell it there for something. Come on."

"Where?" she asked.

"We must get the car as soon as possible. I have a notion that with
every passing hour it is going to be more difficult to get out."

"But I'm not going with you, Monte. It's--it's impossible!"

"It's the only way, little woman."

He gave her no time to argue about it, but took her arm and hurried her
to the garage. It was necessary to walk.