Townshead groaned despondently, "I am afraid the prospect of a balance is very small," he said.

Again there was a stillness in the clearing, until the auctioneer's voice rose raucously expostulating. "It is really preposterous, gentlemen," he said. "I'm giving the place away."

"Well, I'll go ten better," said somebody, and the girl held her breath,

"Twenty!" said another man, and there was a laugh.

"Then that takes me. You can have the ranch."

The voice of the auctioneer rose again. "Nobody to follow him? Your last chance, gentlemen. He's getting it for nothing. Too late in a moment. Going--going."

Nellie Townshead closed her hands and turned her head away, then sprang up quivering with the revulsion from despair to hope. Through the silence she heard a faint drumming down the valley.

"He is coming. Stop them, father," she said.

Nobody else apparently heard the sound. The eyes of all in the clearing were fixed upon the auctioneer, and while Townshead rose from his chair he brought down his hand.

"It's yours, sir," he said, "I'll take your cheque, or you can fill this contract in if you're bidding for the smaller lots."

Nellie Townshead grew white in face as she glanced towards her father.

Townshead stood still, gripping the back of his chair.

"We are homeless now," he said.

It was five minutes before the girl looked out again, and then in spite of every effort her eyes grew hazy, but it was a long time before she forgot the scene, for the groups of bronzed men in jean, cattle, clearing, and the tall firs behind them burned themselves into her memory. Hallam stood smiling close by the auctioneer's table with a cigar in his hand, and another man from the cities was apparently replacing a roll of paper dollars in his wallet. That impressed her even more than the sympathetic faces turned towards the house, for it was a token that the sale was irrevocably completed. Then the group split up as a man rode at a gallop straight towards the table. He was breathless, the horse was smoking, and there were red smears upon its flanks as well as flecks of spume. He swung himself from the saddle, and there followed the sound of an altercation while a noisy group surged about the table. It opened up again, and rancher Alton walked out, pale and grim of face, alone.

"You should have come sooner, Harry," said somebody.

The rancher turned, the group closed in again, and the girl did not see Alton stride up to a big man, and laying a hand upon his shoulder swing him round. "Tom," he said with a curious quietness, "there was a message you did not give me, you drunken hog."

The man shook his grasp off, glanced at him bewilderedly, and then while the bronze grew a little darker in his face doubled a great fist.

"If I take a little more than is good for me now and then, that's my lookout," he said. "Now I don't want any trouble with you, Harry, but I'll not take that talk from any man."

Alton's face was almost grey and his eyes partly closed, but there was a steely glint in them as he said, "Did you bring me the message Miss Townshead gave you?"

"I did the next thing," said the man. "When I couldn't find you I gave it to the lady. She promised to tell you."

"Tom," said Alton slowly, "you are worse than a drunken hog, you are----"

A man stepped in front of him before the word was spoken, while another pinioned the culprit's arm.

"We've no use for that kind of talk and the fuss that follows it," said the first one. "Anyway, if Tom mixed things up it was my fault and Dobey's for giving him the whisky. We'd sold some stock well and we rushed him in. Well, now, if you still feel you must work it off on somebody you've got to tackle Dobey and me!"

Alton let his hands drop. "Do you know what you have done?" said he.

"It wasn't very much, anyway," said the other man. "Tom didn't want to come in; told us he'd a message for you. But we made him, and were sorry after, because when he got started he left us very little whisky."

Alton glanced at him a moment, and the man grew embarrassed under his gaze. Then he smiled wryly. "And this is what you have brought Townshead and his daughter to, and there is more behind. What you have made of me counts for little after that," he said.

Some time had passed when he walked quietly into the house. Nellie Townshead rose as he entered and stood looking at him very white in face.

"I wonder if you will believe what I have to tell you, Miss Townshead,"

he commenced, and stopped when the rancher turned towards him,

"My daughter has, I think, been taught that it is unwise to place much confidence in any one," he said.

Alton glanced at the girl, and stood silent a moment when she made a little gesture of agreement. "I am afraid appearances are against me,"

he said.

"Yes," said the girl. "So are the facts."

"Well," said Alton grimly, "the latter are of the most importance, but I think you should hear me."

"There is," said Miss Townshead, "no reason why I should. You made me a promise--why I do not know, any more than I do why I allowed you--but I was very anxious just then. No doubt you spoke on impulse, and afterwards regretted it."

"My daughter was a trifle injudicious," said Townshead.

Alton made a last endeavour. "I know what you must think of me, and it hurts," he said. "Still, that is a little thing."

The girl checked him by a gesture, and the man stopped with his meaning unexpressed. "You have made as much evident," she said.

Alton turned towards her father. "I'm afraid the suggestion I wished to make would be out of place just now," he said. "Still, I had ridden over in the hope that you and Miss Townshead would stay with us at Somasco while you decided on your next step."

"We have to thank you for your offer, but your surmise is correct,"

said Townshead.

Alton said nothing further, but went out into the clearing and stood apart from the rest while the auctioneer disposed of the household effects, until a little cabinet was offered, when he moved up to the table and bid savagely. Hallam for some reason bid against him, and only stopped when he had quadrupled its value. Alton flung down a roll of dollar bills and then turned to a man close by. "Will you take that in to Miss Townshead, and not tell her who bought it?" he said. "It was her mother's, and I believe she values it."

"I'll do my best," said the other man dryly. "Still, I'm not good at fixing up a story, and Miss Nellie's not a fool."

"Well," said Alton simply, "there's another thing. Where is Townshead going?"

The rancher smiled a little. "He's coming home with me. Susie's driving over with the wagon."

Alton nodded. "Now you needn't be touchy, but we've fruit and things at Somasco you haven't got," said he. "Well, I want you to come round with the wagon."

The rancher straightened himself a trifle. "My place isn't Somasco, but it will be a mean day when I can't feed my friends," said he.

Alton laughed softly. "I don't care ten cents about your feelings, Jack," he said. "The girl and the old man might like the things, and there's no reason they should know where you got them."

The other man also laughed. "You ride straight home, Harry, before you make it worse," said he. "One might figure that you'd mixed things up enough already."

Alton turned away, and found Seaforth awaiting him. They mounted, and Alton rode in silence until when they were climbing out of the valley he said, "I wonder, Charley, if there's a man in the Dominion who feels as mean as I do."

Seaforth smiled curiously, and there was bitterness in his voice which Alton was too disturbed to notice. "I think there is," he said. "You haven't asked what kept me, but you will see if you look at the horse's knees. It's a little difficult to understand why he must get his foot in a hole to-day."

It was late that night when they reached Somasco, but Alton found Miss Deringham upon the verandah, and she glanced at him with very pretty sympathy. Still, Seaforth fancied that she seemed a trifle anxious.