n arm beneath his
neck and pillowed her cheek on his breast. He wanted no further
explanation, and she had no words to spend.

One of his arms was remarkably efficient. It circled her promptly and
drew her up till he kissed her on the lips. Then he presently said:

"How much time have we wasted?"

"Oh, _days_!" she said, warmly blushing. "Ever since that night on the
desert."

He shook a smiling negative.

"Wrong. We've wasted all our lives."

He kissed her again, then sank into slumber with the dusk.

CHAPTER XLVII

A TRIBUTE TO THE DESERT

Love is a healer without a rival in the world. Van proved it--Van and
Beth, of course, together, with Gettysburg, Dave, and Napoleon to help,
and Algy to furnish the sauce. All were present, including Glen and
Mrs. Dick, on the summer day of celebration when at last Van came down
to dinner. At sight of the wan, wasted figure, Algy, in his
characteristic way, fought down his heathen emotions.

"What's mallah you, Van?" he demanded, his face oddly twitching as he
spoke. "Makee evlybody _sick_! That velly superstich! Nobody's got
time cly for you come home--makee my dinner spoil!"

He bolted for the kitchen, swearing in loving Chinese.

But with that day passed, Van soon snatched back his own. His strength
returned like a thing that was capable of gladness, lodging where it
belonged. His spirit had never been dimmed.

Bostwick, who had been detained by the sheriff, faithfully waiting till
Van should "get back on his feet," was almost relieved when his day for
departure finally dawned. He was dressed, at Van's express desire, in
the convict suit which he had worn on the day of his arrival.

Van was on hand when at last the stage, with Bostwick and Christler for
passengers, was ready to pull up the street.

"Searle," he said, "for a man of your stripe you are really to be
envied. You're going to about the only place I know where it's even
remotely possible to be good and not be lonesome."

Searle went. Lawrence, perhaps more fortunate, had managed to escape.
He had fled away to Mexico, taking the bulk of his plunder.

Gettysburg, Dave, and Napoleon returned once more to the placer and
sluices on the hill. Glenmore Kent was of the party, as superintendent
of the mine. He held a degree from a school of mines, and knew even
more than he had learned. Moreover, he had saved the gold pilfered by
Bostwick and McCoppet.

Then one sunny morning Van