“Well, boy, so it’s over at last!”

Her words chimed so perfectly with his thoughts that he replied:  “Yes, it’s all over, little girl.”

“You don’t need my congratulations—­you know me too well for that.  How does it feel to be a winner?”

“I don’t know.  I’ve lost.”

“Lost what?”

“Everything—­except the gold-mine.”

“Everything except—­I see.  You mean that she—­that you have asked her and she won’t?” He never knew the cost at which she held her voice so steady.

“More than that.  It’s so new that it hurts yet, and it will continue to hurt for a long time, I suppose—­but to-morrow I am going back to my hills and my valleys, back to the Midas and my work, and try to begin all over.  For a time I’ve wandered in strange paths, seeking new gods, as it were, but the dazzle has died out of my eyes and I can see true again.  She isn’t for me, although I shall always love her.  I’m sorry I can’t forget easily, as some do.  It’s hard to look ahead and take an interest in things.  But what about you?  Where shall you go?”

“I don’t know.  It doesn’t really matter—­now.”  The dusk hid her white, set face and she spoke monotonously.  “I am going to see the Bronco Kid.  He sent for me.  He’s ill.”

“He’s not a bad sort,” said Roy.  “And I suppose he’ll make a new start, too.”

“Perhaps,” said she, gazing far out over the gloomy ocean.  “It all depends.”  After a moment, she added, “What a pity that we can’t all sponge off the slate and begin afresh and—­forget.”

“It’s part of the game,” said he.  “I don’t know why it’s so, but it is.  I’ll see you sometimes, won’t I?”

“No, boy—­I think not.”

“I believe I understand,” he murmured; “and perhaps it’s better so.”  He took her two soft hands in his one good right and kissed them.  “God bless you and keep you, dear, brave little Cherry.”

She stood straight and still as he melted into the shadows, and only the moonlight heard her pitiful sob and her hopeless whisper: 

“Good-bye, my boy, my boy.”

He wandered down beside the sea, for his battle was not yet won, and until he was surer of himself he could not endure the ribaldry and rejoicing of his fellows.  A welcome lay waiting for him in every public place, but no one there could know the mockery of it, no one could gauge the desolation that was his.

The sand, wet, packed, and hard as a pavement, gave no sound to his careless steps; and thus it was that he came silently upon the one woman as she stood beside the silver surf.  Had he seen her first he would have slunk past in the landward shadows; but, recognizing his tall form, she called and he came, while it seemed that his lungs grew suddenly constricted, as though bound about with steel hoops.  The very pleasure of her sight pained him.  He advanced eagerly, and yet with hesitation, standing stiffly aloof while his heart fluttered and his tongue grew dumb.  At last she saw his bandages and her manner changed abruptly.  Coming closer she touched them with caressing fingers.