Jim was fortunate in getting two rooms at the best hotel. Leaving Angela there, he went off with Stevens to clinch the deal. He came back later in the evening, looking a trifle downcast.

"Nothing wrong?" she queried.

"Nope. I got the money in American notes."

He pulled a big pile of notes from his pocket and placed them on the table, staring at them for a few moments in silence. Then he began to count them out.

"Better look after your own," he said. "Guess you'll find that correct--375,000 dollars."

Angela took them, then she leaned over the table and looked at him queerly.

"Some time ago and many times since you made an offer?"

His hands gripped the table.

"Eh?"

"You must remember--you--you said I was for purchase to anyone who would pay the price."

"I----" he commenced brokenly.

"You are not going back on your word?"

"O G.o.d! Angela, don't force this on me!"

"I mean to--I have found a buyer."

No sound escaped him for a few minutes, then he gasped:

"Who is--he?"

"Myself."

"What!"

"Yes. I want my freedom--and all that freedom means. Fifty thousand pounds you said--plus ten per cent. Here they are--275,000 dollars, with the exchange in your favor. Take them!"

She put the notes in the center of the table, but he made no attempt to touch them. They were still there an hour later when she came from her own room to fetch something she had left in his. He was still sitting there, staring at them.

"Jim, I'm going back to-morrow," she said. "The _Topeka_ sails at eight o'clock. I shan't stay to breakfast. I thought I would let you know."

He nodded, then as she was leaving:

"Maybe you wouldn't mind me seeing you off?"

"I should be very glad," she said indifferently.

When she had gone he put on his hat and went into the streets. He had set his mind on a "jag" of the worst description--to drink and forget. He entered a saloon and mixed with the noisy throng. He commenced to lavish drinks on all and sundry, flinging notes around as though they were dirt; but the drink tasted like poison. The whole attempt ended in utter failure. Only a beast could get drunk while the memory of such a woman hung in his brain.

He wandered back to the hotel, sick at heart and hating the fast-approaching morrow with its heartache.... He had found gold, but he had lost--lost completely in the larger battle. He made no attempt to undress, but sat on his bed and groaned.

When the dawn came he made himself presentable and knocked at Angela's door. He found her clad for the journey, and several bags ready for transit. He thought, too, she seemed delighted at the prospects--delighted when his heart was breaking!

"I'll take these things," he said, and picked up the bags.

They made their way to the jetty off which the _Topeka_ lay, with a gangway connecting. It was near the time of departure, and nearly all the pa.s.sengers were aboard. A crowd of men stood on the sh.o.r.e, pa.s.sing remarks to those who were leaving. Here and there a wet eye was in evidence, as some unfortunate devil saw his wife and child bound for the outer world--and himself left to the tender mercies of the Klond.y.k.e.

Jim walked over the gangway and put down the luggage. When he turned to Angela he saw no sign of regret. She seemed as calm and collected as she had been when first he met her.

"So this is the end of the great adventure," she said, smiling.

"Yep."

"And you--what do you intend doing?"

Jim gulped.

"I guess the Klond.y.k.e is good enough for me. See here, Angela, I bin pretty rough with you--but--it wasn't that I meant it that way. You gotta make allowances for me. I lived among animals for years. Maybe I kinder got like one, without quite knowing it."

"Perhaps you may make allowances for me, too. I was born in luxury, where hardship and suffering never entered, where flattery and gifts were the daily portion. I have never had a chance----"

"Cut that," he grunted. "You got grit and pluck and----"

"All aboard!" yelled a stentorian voice.

"They're off," said Jim. "I---- Good-bye, Angela. Maybe you'll remember--sometimes."

His eyes suddenly swam and he turned his head away.

"Good-bye!" she murmured, and held his hand.

"All aboard!" yelled the voice again.

A man began to move the gangway. The hand in Jim's suddenly clung on.

"I gotta go," he moaned; "they're pulling in the plank."

The steamer "honked" and began to move. He looked at her appealingly and she placed something into the palm of his hand.

"It's something I forgot to give you," she said softly.

He opened his hand and saw--a steamboat ticket.

"But----"

"I bought two," she said. "One for you and one for me; and most of your clothes are in those bags. Didn't you miss them?"