I hope that I--I live up to your estimation of me.

At least--I 'm thankful to you for being the man you are.

And I won't forget!" And once more her hand had rested in his,--a small, warm, caressing thing in spite of the purely casual grasp of an impersonal action.
Again Robert Fairchild felt a thrill that was new to him, and he stood watching her until she had reached the motor car which had brought her to the big curve, and had faded down the hill.

Then he went back to assist the sweating workmen and the anxious-faced Sam Herbenfelder.
The water was down seventy feet.
That night Robert Fairchild sought a few hours' sleep.

Two days after, the town still divided its attention between preparations for the Old Times Dance and the progress in the dewatering of the Blue Poppy shaft.
Now and then the long hose was withdrawn, and dynamite lowered on floats to the surface of the water, far below, a copper wire trailing it.