Where those picks and rock-hammers fell a score of men were working like fiends:  Blackton, his arms stripped to the shoulders; Gregg, sweating and urging the men; and among them—­lifting and tearing at the rock like a madman—­old Donald MacDonald, his shirt open, his great hands bleeding, his hair and beard tossing about him in the wind.  Behind them, her hands clasped to her breast—­crying out to them to hurry, hurry—­stood Peggy Blackton.  The strength of five men was in every pair of arms.  Huge boulders were rolled back.  Men pawed earth and shale with their naked hands.  Rock-hammers fell with blows that would have cracked the heart of a granite obelisk.  Half an hour—­three quarters—­and Blackton came back to where Peggy was standing, his face black and grimed, his arms red-seared where the edges of the rocks had caught them, his eyes shining.

“We’re almost there, Peggy,” he panted.  “Another five minutes and——­”

A shout interrupted him.  A cloud of dust rolled out of the mouth of the tunnel, and into that dust rushed half a dozen men led by old Donald.  Before the dust had settled they began to reappear, and with a shrill scream Peggy Blackton darted forward and flung her arms about the gold-shrouded figure of Joanne, swaying and laughing and sobbing in the sunshine.  And old Donald, clasping his great arms about Aldous, cried brokenly: 

“Oh, Johnny, Johnny—­something told me to foller ye—­an’ I was just in time—­just in time to see you go into the coyote!”

“God bless you, Mac!” said Aldous, and then Paul Blackton was wringing his hands; and one after another the others shook his hand, but Peggy Blackton was crying like a baby as she hugged Joanne in her arms.

“MacDonald came just in time,” explained Blackton a moment later; and he tried to speak steadily, and tried to smile.  “Ten minutes more, and——­”

He was white.

“Now that it has turned out like this I thank God that it happened, Paul,” said Aldous, for the engineer’s ears alone.  “We thought we were facing death, and so—­I told her.  And in there, on our knees, we pledged ourselves man and wife.  I want the minister—­as quick as you can get him, Blackton.  Don’t say anything to Joanne, but bring him to the house right away, will you?”

“Within half an hour,” replied Blackton.  “There comes Tony with the buckboard.  We’ll hustle up to the house and I’ll have the preacher there in a jiffy.”

As they went to the wagon, Aldous looked about for MacDonald.  He had disappeared.  Requesting Gregg to hunt him up and send him to the bungalow, he climbed into the back seat, with Joanne between him and Peggy.  Her little hand lay in his.  Her fingers clung to him.  But her hair hid her face, and on the other side of her Peggy Blackton was laughing and talking and crying by turns.

As they entered the bungalow, Aldous whispered to Joanne: 

“Will you please go right to your room, dear?  I want to say something to you—­alone.”