"No; Poleon and I seem to hold bad hands. Some of his laymen are quitting work. They've cross-cut in half a dozen places and can't find a color."
"But surely they haven't fully prospected his claims yet; there must be plenty of room for a pay-streak somewhere, mustn't there?"
"It looks like he had drawn three blanks," said Gale, "although we can't tell for sure. They're breaking most as bad for me, too; but I've got a new hunch, and I'm running up a dreen to catch bed-rock along the left rim. I've got twenty men at work, and I'll know before long. You heard about Runnion, of course?"
"Yes; the usual story—the bad men get the good mines, and the good ones get the hungry spots. Well, I might have been one of the unfortunates if I had staked for myself; but I hardly think so, I'm pretty lucky." He laughingly bade them good-night, content with himself and at peace with the world.
Gale went to Necia's door and called her, but when she appeared he was unprepared for the tragic face with which she greeted him.
"Daughter," he said, "don't feel bad over what I said; I didn't mean to be cross with you, but—I don't like that dress."
"Were you cross with me, daddy?" she said, dully. "I didn't hear. What did you say?"
He looked at her in amazement. "Necia, little girl, what is the trouble?"
She was staring past him, and her fingers were fumbling helplessly with the lace of her gown, but she began to show signs of collapse.
"I sent him away—I—gave him up, when he wanted me—wanted me—Oh, daddy! he wants to marry me—and I sent him away."