Nellie Seaforth raised her hand with a little imperious gesture. "As you know half of it I think you had better hear it all," she said.

"Well, if I had been Miss Deringham I would have taken that way of giving you back Carnaby. It is possible to raise money on an estate in the old country."

There was no need of further questions, for the answer was written on Forel's flushed face, and Alton sat down with his lips firmly set.

Then there was an awkward silence until he spoke again.

"And I cannot return it. Every dollar has been sunk in the mills and roads except what we took up the first loan with."

Nellie Seaforth nodded with a pretty gravity, for the bond between them all was stronger than friendship usually is.

"No," she said, "and I can't help thinking that it is just as well.

One cannot shirk his responsibilities, Harry, and you are an Alton--of Carnaby. You see, nobody could take your inheritance from you, nor, though you did your best, could you give it away, and there is, I fancy, only one meaning to that. Fate is too strong for you. You will redeem Carnaby again, go over there, and be--what you were born to be."

Alton's face was once more flushed, and the girl fancied his fingers quivered a little, but while he sat silent there was a tapping at the door and an urchin flung a journal into the room.

"_Colonist_," he said, and vanished suddenly.

Forel, who appeared glad of the diversion, picked up the paper, and then stood up. "News at last," he said excitedly. "I fancied we would have had it first, but the news agency fellows have beaten us, Harry; it's more than probable they're going to rush the railroad through."

Alton's eyes glittered. "Great news, but it will keep," he said. "No, don't worry over any more of it. Look at the notices."

Forel folded back the sheet. Then it rustled in his hand, and his voice shook as he read disjointedly: "Vacant Crown lands. To all it may concern. Mineral claim on left bank headwaters Somasco River in unsurveyed territory, frontage declared to be----"

"Give it to me, or get on," Alton said hoarsely.

The paper was shaking visibly. "Is declared to be on or after 12 P.M.

on the date undermentioned eligible for relocation," and Forel ended with a little gasp, "You have lost it, Harry."

Alton was on his feet by this time and snatching out his watch. "No, by the Lord!" he said. "I've still rather a better chance than most other men. Head straight for the freight traffic man, Charley, and tell him I'm going up with the fast Atlantic freight they're sending our empty cars back on. Forel, run across and send in your stenographer. There are lots of things I've got to do, and the freight will be going out in an hour or so."

Nellie Seaforth laughed a little. "Then Mr. Forel will not have time, and there's another woman anxious to do a little for Somasco. Give me a pencil, Harry, and begin right away."

Alton only flung her a grateful glance, and dictated rapidly, until Seaforth appeared in the doorway flushed with haste, when shouting his thanks after him he ran down the stairway.

Nellie Seaforth laughed a little. "Good fortune go with him. That is Alton--of Somasco," she said. "I wonder whether he will remember to put on his hat."

"I don't think it's likely," said her husband. "Nellie, I can't help wondering if you were right just now."

Mrs. Seaforth smiled at him curiously. "It was right I did," she said.

"Possibly the distinction is too fine for you, but I think the future will justify me."

Then she drew off her gloves, and endeavoured to remember only that she had been considered a capable business lady.

Forel went up to Somasco next day, and one afternoon sat with his wife and Miss Deringham upon the verandah of Horton's hotel. Horton himself was pacing up and down, and a group of bronzed bush ranchers stood in the dust below. They spoke more rapidly than was usual with them, their movements were curiously restless for impassive men, and their eyes were fixed upon the shadowy trail that led down the valley beneath the sombre pines. The afternoon was still, and a drowsy resinous fragrance hung heavily about the hotel. There was no sound but the low voices, and the murmur of sliding water in the distance.

Alice Deringham was pale and very quiet, though there was an intentness in her eyes, and when Horton stopped close by her she looked at him.

"They have heard nothing yet?" she said.

"No," said the storekeeper. "Still, some of them should have been here by now."

The little nervous tremor in his voice did not escape the girl, and though it had all been explained to her before, she said, "Then you expect more than Mr. Alton?"

"Well," said Horton, who seemed glad to find an outlet in speech, "I don't quite know. You see there was a man brought a wire in before Harry got through, and once the claim was posted vacant anybody could stake it. There's a holy crowd of jumpers hanging round the mine, and because there'd be such a circus nobody could be sure who'd got his pegs in first, the Crown people would probably listen to the man who got through and recorded. Oh, yes, they'll be pounding down the trail as if the devil was after them now, but there's none of them got the relays of horses we've fixed up for Harry."

Horton moved away, and the girl sat still listening, while Mrs. Forel stirred nervously, and her husband apparently found it necessary to light his cigar again every now and then. The voices had died away, and there was no sound but the faint song of water and the patter of restless feet. How long the silence continued Alice Deringham did not know, but a quiver went through her as a hoarse shout rose up, "They're coming!"

Then there was silence again, and she watched a bronzed man rubbing down a great black horse whose blood had not come from a Cayuse pedigree until a faint drumming grew louder down the trail. It swelled into a sharp staccato, and the murmurs commenced again. "Two of them.

Another man behind. Riding like brimstone. Can you see them yet?"

The drumming sound sank, and rose again in a confused roar as the horsemen crossed a wooden bridge while Alice Deringham stood up, when once more the voices rose stridently.

"One of the jumpers first. Harry's coming along behind. Cayuse played out. Lord, how they're riding!"

Then lips were set tight, and steady eyes blazed, as a man grimed with sweat and dust who reeled in his saddle swept out from the forest on a jaded horse. Most of those who watched him had a heavy stake in that race, for it was with Alton's prosperity they must stand or fall; but the bushman's code of honour is as high as it is simple, and they sprang aside to give the rider a free passage. The man blinked at them in a curious dazed fashion, as he rode on, the dust whirling behind him and the lather dripping tinged with red from the horse's whitened sides.

Still, the drumming behind grew louder, and he had scarcely sunk into the shadows when Alton, stripped to shirt and trousers, rode in. He, too, swayed in the saddle, and his face was foul with dust, but it was firmly set, and there was a glint in his eyes, while as he swept out of the shadow of the pines two men led the horse out into the trail. He reined his beast in upon its haunches, swung himself down, thrust aside the pitcher somebody tendered him, and with a swing that rent the white shirt was once more in the saddle. Then there was a scattering of the crowd and a shouting broke out.

"You'll have him in a league, Harry. Another horse ready at Thomson's ranch."

Alice Deringham held her breath as, while a third beat of hoofs grew louder behind, Alton gathered up the bridle and drove his heels home.

The horse, frightened by the clamour, reared almost upright and then backed across the trail, while the girl wondered with a tense anxiety whether the man would look up. Then for just a second he turned his head, and saw her standing on the verandah with a blaze in her cheeks and a dimness in her eyes.

"Off with you, Harry, and remember you're riding for all of us and Somasco," cried somebody.

[Illustration: "Remember you're riding for all of us and Somasco,"

cried somebody.]

Alton had the beast's head up the trail now, but as he sent his heels home he swung up his right hand, and the girl smiled down on him bravely out of misty eyes.

"And for Carnaby," he cried. "I can't be beaten."

Then the horse shot forward, and he was away, his torn shirt fluttering as the wind rushed past, while Alice Deringham hastened to the end of the verandah with Forel to see the last of him just as another man rode in at a floundering gallop.

The trail led straight beneath the pines, and her heart throbbed painfully while she watched the second rider closing with the one in front of him, until the two figures became blurred before her eyes, and she turned suddenly cold.

"He's fouling him," cried somebody, and a roar of execrations went up.

"Both of them for the same company. The condemned jumper's right across the trail."

There was silence once more, and the two objects seemed to rush together, then another roar went up.

"Down. Oh, yes, the jumper's down. Harry rode straight into him--the fool might have known his horse was blown. The other one's used up.

Somasco's leading clear again."

Alice Deringham was trembling visibly, and knew that Mrs. Forel's eyes were upon her, but that did not seem to count at all. She could see a figure standing over a fallen horse up the trail, while another that had already left it far behind was sinking into the shadow of the pines. The jumper was beaten, but Alton was riding still--for Somasco and Carnaby--with a fresh horse beneath him.

Then she turned to Mrs. Forel with a softness in her eyes which somewhat astonished the elder lady.

"I should like to go back to Somasco now," she said. "I am a little tired, and I know that he will win."