Through all this gaiety and earnestness Allie’s lips were mute, and her cheeks flushed and paled by turns.  It was an ordeal for her, both confusing and poignant.  At last she and Neale got away alone to the cabin room where they had met earlier in the day.

They stood at the open window, close together, hands locked, gazing out over the quiet valley.  The moon was full, and broad belts of silver light lay in strong contrast to black shadows.  The hour was late.  The sentries paced their beats.

Allie stirred and lifted her face to Neale’s.  “What they said about you makes me almost as happy as to see you again,” she said.

“They said!  Who?  What?” asked Neale, dreamily.

“Oh, I heard, I remember! ...  For instance, Mr. Baxter said you had genius.”

“He was just eulogizing me,” replied Neale.  “What he said about your bright eyes was more to the point, I think.”

“It’s sweet to believe I could inspire you.  But I know—­and you know—­that if I had not been here you would have seen through the engineering problem just the same...  Now, be honest.”

“Yes, I would,” replied Neale, frankly.  “Though perhaps not so swiftly.  I could see through stone today.”

“And that proves your worth.  Your duty it always has been—­to stand by your chief.  Oh, I love him! ...  He seems so much younger today.  You have encouraged them all...  Oh, dear Neale, there is something noble in what you can do for him.  Can’t you see it?”

“Yes, Allie, indeed I do.”

“Promise me—­never to fail him again.”

“I promise.”

“No matter what happens to me.  I am alive, safe, well... and I’m yours.  But something might happen—­you can never tell, and I don’t refer particularly to Durade and his gang.  I mean, life and everything is uncertain out here.  So promise me, no matter what happens, that you’ll stand by your work.”

“I promise that, too,” replied Neale, huskily.  “But you frighten me.  You fear—­for yourself?”

“No, I don’t,” she protested.

“Fate could not be so brutal—­to take you from me.  Anyway, I’ll not think of it.”

“Do not.  Nor will I...  I wouldn’t have asked you—­only this night has shown me your opportunity.  I’m so proud—­so proud.  You’ll be great some day.”

“Well, if you’re so proud—­if you think I’m so wonderful—­why haven’t you rewarded me for that little job today?”

“Reward you! ...  How?”

“How do you suppose?”

She was pale, eloquent, grave.  But he was low-voiced, gay, intense.

“Dear Neale—­what—­what can I do? ...  I have nothing... so big a thing as you did today!”

“Child!  You can kiss me.”

Allie’s sweet gravity changed.  She smiled.  “I shore can, as Larry used to say.  That’s my privilege.  But you spoke of a reward.  My kisses—­they are yours—­and as many as the—­the grains of sand out there.  But they are not reward.”