lways."

"No, I didn't know," said Roberts. "And Armstrong?"

"He's been working steadily for months, and been straight absolutely."
Randall ventured a glance at last. "To-day was his big day; you do know
that. He was in the clouds this evening."

"I should like to have been with you." The tone was non-committal.
"Strange to say I like to see people in that frame of mind. It makes for
optimism. Will his new effort, you think, stand on its own legs?"

"Yes; always providing nothing interferes. I've seen the first half. It's
more than good. It's excellent. You're in it, distinct as life, by the
way."

Roberts lit a cigar and smoked for a minute in silence.

"I'm sorry, sincerely, that I'm there," he said then. He gazed at his
companion steadily, and with a significance Randall never forgot. "I used
to fancy I wasn't afraid of anything. I'm not afraid of most
things,--dynamite or nitro-glycerine or murderous fanatics or physical
pain; but in the last year I've learned there's one thing on earth, one
person, I'm afraid of--deathly afraid. You know who?"

"Yes."

"I predicted once he would make good. I believed it then. Since I've been
alone a good deal and had much time to think, and question. That's why I
am afraid." Roberts paused to smoke, seemingly impassive. "I'd give every
cent I have in the world and start anew to-morrow without breakfast if I
could only know, only know to a certainty that he would keep his grip.
But will he?... I'm afraid!"

Scarcely knowing what he did, Randall lit a cigar in turn and smoked like
a furnace. His tongue attempted to form an assurance, but try as he might
he could not give it voice. Once he had promised not to lie to that man
opposite, ever; and in the depths of his own soul he knew that he, too,
was afraid. At last, in self-confessed rout, he voiced the commonplace.

"It's my turn to ask questions now, I think," he said. "Are you back to
stay?"

Roberts looked up, only half comprehending; he roused himself.

"No. I intend to close out everything. I doubt if I ever stay anywhere
permanently again. I'll keep the house here, though."

"You've decided not to sell it--even to me?"

Roberts paused.

"Yes," he said at last; but he offered no explanation.

Randall waited, hoping for a lead whereby light might come. But none
opened, and the subject dropped.

"I judge the mine's making good," he commented, with the trace of
awkwardness he always felt when approaching the o