y when she realized that he did not believe she had come
unscathed through the wilds of the gold-fields and the vileness of the
construction camps. She bore this patiently, though it stung her. But
the loss of respect for her father did not come until she heard men in
his study, loud-voiced and furious, wrangle over contracts and accuse
him of double-dealing.

Later he told her that he had become involved in financial straits, and
that unless he could raise a large sum by a certain date he would be
ruined.

And it was this day that Allie sat on a bench in the little arbor and
watched the turbulent river. She was sorry for her father, but she could
not help him. Moreover, alien griefs did not greatly touch her. Her
own grief was deep and all-enfolding. She was heart-sick, and always
yearning--yearning for that she dared not name.

The day was hot, sultry; no birds sang, but the locusts were noisy; the
air was full of humming bees.

Allie watched the river. She was idle because her aunt would not let her
work. She could only remember and suffer. The great river soothed her.
Where did it come from and where did it go? And what was to become of
her? Almost it would have been better--

A servant interrupted her. "Missy, heah's a gennelman to see yo',"
announced the Negro girl.

Allie looked. She thought she saw a tall, buckskin-clad man carrying
a heavy pack. Was she dreaming or had she lost her mind? She got up,
shaking in every limb. This tall man moved; he seemed real; his bronzed
face beamed. He approached; he set the pack down on the bench. Then his
keen, clear eyes pierced Allie.

"Wal, lass," he said, gently.

The familiar voice was no dream, no treachery of her mind. Slingerland!
She could not speak. She could hardly see. She swayed into his arms.
Then when she felt the great, strong clasp and the softness of buckskin
on her face and the odor of pine and sage--and desert dust, she believed
in his reality.

Her heart seemed to collapse. All within her was riot.

"Neale!" she whispered, in anguish.

"All right an' workin' hard. He sent me," replied Slingerland, swift to
get his message out.

Allie quivered and closed her eyes and leaned against him. A beautiful
something pervaded her soul. Slowly the tumult within her breast
subsided. She recovered.

"Uncle Al!" she called him, tenderly.

"Wal, I should smile! An' glad to see you--why Lord! I'd never
tell you!... You're white an' shaky, lass.... Set