“’Nough to buy back your Orange Grove?”

He shook his head. “’Nough to pay my debts and start over again.”

When the Dawson doctor left that night Maudie, as usual, followed him out.  They waited a long time for her to come back.

“Perhaps she’s gone to her own tent;” and the Boy went to see.  He found her where the Colonel used to go to smoke, sitting, staring out to nowhere.

As the boy looked closer he saw she had been crying, for even in the midst of honest service Maudie, like many a fine lady before her, could not forego the use of cosmetic.  Her cheeks were streaked and stained.

“Five dollars a box here, too,” she said mechanically, as she wiped some of the rouge off with a handkerchief.  Her hand shook.

“What’s the matter?”

“It’s all up,” she answered.

“Not with him?” He motioned towards the tent.

She nodded.

“Doctor says so?”

“——­and I knew it before, only I wouldn’t believe it.”

She had spoken with little agitation, but now she flung her arms out with a sudden anguish that oddly took the air of tossing into space Bonanza and its treasure.  It was the motion of one who renounces the thing that means the most—­a final fling in the face of the gods.  The Boy stood quite still, submitting his heart to that first quick rending and tearing asunder which is only the initial agony of parting.

“How soon?” he said, without raising his eyes.

“Oh, he holds on—­it may be a day or two.”

The Boy walked slowly away towards the ridge of the low hill.  Maudie turned and watched him.  On the top of the divide he stopped, looking over.  Whatever it was he saw off there, he could not meet it yet.  He flung himself down with his face in the fire-weed, and lay there all night long.

Kaviak was sent after him in the morning, but only to say, “Breakfast,
Maudie’s tent.”

The Boy saw that Mac and Potts knew.  For the first time the Big Chimney men felt a barrier between them and that one who had been the common bond, keeping the incongruous allied and friendly.  Only Nig ran in and out, unchilled by the imminence of the Colonel’s withdrawal from his kind.

Towards noon the O’Flynns came up the creek, and were stopped near the tent by the others.  They all stood talking low till a noise of scuffling broke the silence within.  They drew nearer, and heard the Colonel telling Maudie not to turn out Nig and Kaviak.

“I like seein’ my friends.  Where’s the Boy?”

So they went in.

Did he know?  He must know, or he would have asked O’Flynn what the devil made him look like that!  All he said was:  “Hello!  How do you do, madam?” and he made a weak motion of one hand towards Mrs. O’Flynn to do duty for that splendid bow of his.  Then, as no one spoke, “You’re too late, O’Flynn.”

“Too late?”

“Had a job in your line....”  Then suddenly:  “Maudie’s worth the whole lot of you.”