lders. They yelled like maniacs
and fired their revolvers in the air. It was the wildest outbreak that
Barren Valley had ever heard, and to the girl who watched it, it was the
most marvellous revelation of a man's magnetism that she had ever beheld.
Alone he had faced and conquered a multitude.

It pierced her strangely, that fierce enthusiasm, stirring her as
personal danger had failed to stir. She turned with the tears running
down her face and found Fletcher Hill standing unnoticed behind her,
silently looking on.

"Oh, isn't he great? Isn't he great?" she said.

He took her arm and led her within. His touch was kind, but wholly
without warmth. "There's not much doubt as to who is the boss of Barren
Valley," he said.

And with the words he smiled--a smile that was sadder than her tears.

CHAPTER XIII

THE OFFICIAL SEAL

That life could possibly return to a normal course after that amazing
night would have seemed to Dot preposterous but for the extremely
practical attitude adopted by Fletcher Hill. But when she saw him again
on the day after their safe return to Trelevan there was nothing in his
demeanour to remind her of the stress through which they had passed. He
was, as ever, perfectly calm and self-contained, and wholly
uncommunicative. Adela sought in vain to satisfy her curiosity as to the
happenings in Barren Valley which her courage had not permitted her to
witness for herself. Fletcher Hill was as a closed book, and on some
points Dot was equally reticent. By no persuasion could Adela induce her
to speak of Bill Warden. She turned the subject whenever it approached
him, professing an ignorance which Adela found excessively provoking.

They saw nothing of him during the remainder of the week, and very
little of Fletcher Hill, who went to and fro upon his business with a
machine-like precision that seemed to pervade his every action. He made
no attempt to be alone with Dot, and she, with a shyness almost
overwhelming, thankfully accepted his forbearance. The day they had fixed
upon for their marriage was rapidly approaching, but she had almost
ceased to contemplate it, for somehow it seemed to her that it could
never dawn. Something must happen first! Surely something was about to
happen! And from day to day she lived for the sight of Bill Warden's
great figure and the sound of his steady voice. Anything, she felt, would
be bearable if only she could see him once again. But she looked for him