“Don’t you think Natalie has something to say?  Don’t you think she is more than a piece of baggage waiting to be claimed by the first man who comes along?” sputtered Miss Appleton in fine disgust at this attitude.  “She has more sense and determination than any girl, any pretty girl, I ever saw.  That’s one reason why I hate her so.  There’s no use trying to select a husband for her.  When the time comes she’ll do the selecting herself.  She’ll knock over all our plans and walk blushingly up to the altar with O’Neil, leaving us out on the sidewalk to cheer.  I’m sorry I ever tried to help you!  I’m going to quit and get back my self-respect.”

“You’ll do no such thing.  You’ll continue to help your poor red-headed brother to the finish.  Say!  When I’m alone I’m just bursting with optimism; when I’m with you I wither with despair; when I’m with Natalie I become as heavy and stupid as a frog full of buckshot—­I just sit and blink and bask and revel in a sort of speechless bliss.  If she ever saw how really bright and engaging I am—­”

“You!” Eliza sniffed.  “You’re as uninteresting as I am.”

“Now that you’ve pledged your undying support, here goes for some basking,” said Dan; and he made off hastily in search of Miss Gerard.

Eliza had really made up her mind to wash her hands of the affair, but she wavered, and, as usual, she gave in.  She did go to O’Neil to protest at Dan’s selection for the post of danger, but after talking with him she began to see the matter in a new light, and her opposition weakened.  He showed her that the S. R. & N. had an individuality of its own—­an individuality greater than Murray O’Neil’s, or Dan Appleton’s, or that of any man connected with it.  She began to understand that it was a living thing, and that O’Neil was merely a small part of it—­a person driven by a power outside himself, the head servant of a great undertaking, upon whom rested a heavy responsibility.  She saw for the first time that the millions invested in the project imposed upon those concerned with its management a sacred duty, and that failure to defend the company’s rights would be the worst sort of treachery.  She began to appreciate also how men may be willing to lay down their lives, if necessary, to pave the way for the march of commerce.

“I never looked at it in this way,” she told him, when he had finished.  “I—­don’t like to take that view of it, even now, but I suppose I must.”

“Try not to worry about Dan,” he said, sympathetically.  “We’ll start back as soon as I’m able to move around, and I’ll do my best to see that he isn’t hurt.  It’s—­tough to be laid up this way.”

“There’s another sick man in camp, by the way.”

“Who?”

“The Indian boy who helps the cook.  He was hunting and shot himself in the arm.”

“They told me he was doing well.”

“Oh, he is, but the pain has kept the poor fellow awake until he’s nearly out of his head.  There are no drugs here.”