our job to become a
bum... to drink and gamble away your life in these rotten camps!"

General Lodge's scorn flayed Neale.

"Sir, you may not know I--I lost some one--very dear to me. After that I
didn't seem to care." Neale turned to the window. He was ashamed of what
blurred his eyes. "If it hadn't been for that--I'd never have failed
you."

The chief strode to Neale and put a hand on his shoulder. "Son, I
believe you. Maybe I've been a little hard. Let's forget it." His tone
softened and there was a close pressure of his hand. "The thing is
now--will you come back on the job?"

"Baxter's note--Campbell said they'd struck a snag here. You mean help
them get by that?"

"Snag! I guess it is a snag. It bids fair to make all our labor and
millions of dollars--wasted.... But I'm not asking you to come back
just to help us over this snag. I mean will you come back for good--and
stick?"

Neale was lifted out of the gloom into which memory had plunged him. He
turned to his chief and found him another person. There was a light on
his face and eagerness on his lips, and the keen, stern eyes were soft.

"Son, will you come back--stand by me till the finish?" repeated General
Lodge, his voice deep and full. There was more here than just the
relation of employer to his lieutenant.

"Yes, sir, I'll come back," replied Neale, in low voice.

Their hands met.

"Good!" exclaimed the chief.

Then he deliberately took out his watch and studied it. His hand
trembled slightly. He did not raise his eyes again to Neale's face.

"I'll call you--later," he said. "You stay here. I'll send some one in."

With that he went out.

Neale remained standing, his eyes fixed on the gray-green slope, seen
through the window. He seemed a trifle unsteady on his feet, and he
braced himself with a knee against the couch. His restraint, under
extreme agitation, began to relax. A flooding splendid thought filled
his mind--his chief had called him back to the great work.

Presently the door behind him opened and closed very softly. Then he
heard a low, quick gasp. Some one had entered. Suddenly the room seemed
strange, full, charged with terrible portent. And he turned as if a
giant hand had heavily swung him around.

It was not light at the other end of the room, yet he saw a slight
figure of a girl backed against the door. Her outline was familiar.
Haunting ghost of his dreams! Bewildered and speechless, he stared,
trembling all over. The