foot-way on the crest of the
dam, Helen a little in advance of Winston.

"Don't look down," he continued, "it may make you dizzy."

"Dizzy!" she repeated derisively, "why I could walk a slack rope. It's
great! I don't wonder that you are an engineer."

"This is easy, doing things, when some one tells you what to do and what
for."

"Thanks! You are original and independent. So am I." With reckless
daring she freed her arm from Winston's detaining hand, and before he
could prevent, she was skipping over the dizzy walk far ahead.

"Stop, Helen, stop! It's dangerous!" His voice was commanding.

"I know it is. That's where the fun comes in." Over her shoulder she
flung him a mocking glance from reckless eyes.

Winston dared make no quick move that would increase her danger. He
could not understand the spirit of bravado that had come over her. A
sigh of intense relief escaped him as she grasped one of the staying
ropes and swung inside the enclosure, which, hanging far out over the
abyss, railed in the space where the last stone was to be laid.

"It's no credit to you," he said sternly, "that your childish prank
hasn't ended in tragedy."

Helen was conscious of a creeping thrill as she looked into Winston's
eyes. They were like poles of a dynamo, with thousands of volts of
energy waiting to leap out, if the safety line was crossed. She felt as
if she were dangerously near the line.

"Be thankful for your mercies," she said lightly. "No tragedy has
happened."

Winston wanted to say more, but an expectant crowd was waiting.

"Well, go ahead," he said. "You're in command now."

"I don't know where to begin, but I'm not old enough yet not to take a
dare."

Out on one of the abutments, a great derrick rose; near its foot an
engineer stood with his hand on the throttle of an engine. Helen waved
her hand, looking defiantly at Winston.

There came the short, sharp bark of the engine, the groaning of rope and
timber as the locking stone swung in the air, turned, poised high above
them; them slowly began to sink to its position. Under Winston's
directions, her small, firm hands guided the great block, as it settled,
then came to a rest. The fall ropes slackened, and Helen unclasped the
tackle. Amidst the cheers of the watchers on the abutments, the boom of
the derrick swung free. The last stone had been laid in the Sangre de
Cristo dam.

Helen turned to Winston. Her great, black eyes were solemn.

"It is finished