Stephen looked out over the mountains. His eyes were glistening with moisture—and this time it was not caused by the glare. It cut him to the quick that the man who was so righteously dismissing him should be the father of the girl whom he loved. In a bitter moment there flashed before his mind the vision of all his broken resolutions, of his now useless plans for success. The whole fabric, which in the past months he had woven for himself, he suddenly saw torn to shreds.
Mr. Cameron’s next words were lost to Stephen. It was some seconds before he could again focus his attention. When he caught up the thread, Mr. Cameron was saying: “I had hoped better things from you, Loring. I should have known better, that when a man is a drifter, such as you are, there is no hope. Still I had hoped! Well, I was wrong. Here is your pay check, for what is due to you. That is all.”
Mr. Cameron turned and walked towards the office. Stephen stood looking dumbly after him, with the check fluttering loosely in his fingers. McKay, going by on his way to work, saw him, and came up to him. He held out his hand in sympathy.
“Damn it, Steve, I’m sorry for you! You ain’t worth a damn; but I like you.”
Stephen looked at him in silence. His only conscious thought, as he gripped McKay’s hand, was the mental reiteration: “I am worth a damn, I am worth a damn.”
McKay went on in friendly solicitude: “Of course, it ain’t none of my business, Steve, but if I was you I’d beat it pretty quick. Just at present the friends of those men ain’t losing any love on you. I think if I was in your boots the Dominion trail would look pretty good to me. It’s about up to you to vamos.”
“I will go,” said Loring. “It isn’t that I fear what these Mexicans may do, because I don’t care. But I can’t stand it here. Good-bye, Mac! You have been a good friend to me. I know I deserved to be fired. Deserved a lot worse; but Mac,” he added desperately, “I will make good somewhere!”
McKay almost imperceptibly shook his head, then smiled and again extended his hand.