The owner of Culmeny looked him full in the eyes, and it was some time before Dane could shake off the memory of that gaze.

"It is the worst--he is dead?" he said; and Dane mutely bent his head.

Brandram Maxwell's fingers trembled, and for a moment he looked at the ground; then he spoke very quietly:

"I feared this when I saw he was not with you. Tell me how it happened.

It is not the first shrewd blow fate has dealt me."

Chatterton and Lilian would have turned away, but Maxwell beckoned them to remain.

"No. We have grown to be good friends, and I should like you to hear it, too," he said, looking toward Lilian. "There will be no cause for any one who knew my son to blush at this story. It will be a kindness if you hide nothing, Hilton."

Dane afterward wondered how he got through that recital. At the beginning speech seemed to fail him, but one listener's spirit infected him as he proceeded, and pride was mingled with the man's grief, for what he had seen in Bonita Castro's face he read in that of the owner of Culmeny. It was dark when he concluded:

"I can tell you nothing more, sir, and, though G.o.d knows it is the truth, it is useless to say that I would willingly have staked my own life on the chance of saving him."

Lilian appeared to be crying softly, and Chatterton troubled with something in his throat, for he coughed several times vigorously, but Maxwell held out his hand to Dane.

"I believe you would. You were his friend," he said, still with a startling quietness. "You did your best for my dead son, and no man dare blame you. It is a brave story, and I am not ashamed of his end. It was in accordance with the traditions of an unfortunate family. But you will excuse me. I am getting an old man and weaker in the fiber than I used to be."

He turned away, holding himself stiffly erect, and Chatterton laid a heavy grasp on Dane's shoulder.

"Well done, Hilton. If you had not chased that d.a.m.ned rascal to his death I'd have sent you back with another expedition to take up the hunt again. I am sorry for Culmeny. He was fonder of Carsluith than anything else under heaven, and you saw how he took the blow. Well, I won my own place, and went through the fire for it, but the brand Culmeny wears is what I could never attain to. They were alike, both of them, and it will be a long time before we find their equal. Perhaps I had better follow and try to comfort him."

It struck Dane that Thomas Chatterton, though not lacking in sympathy, would hardly make a tactful comforter, but he did not say so, and Lilian seemed content to let him go.

"You are not sorry to see me, Lilian?" asked Dane, taking one of the girl's hands into his own, for her cheeks were damp yet, and bending, he caught her answer.

"No, but I was shocked. Hilton, I felt that when he went out to save you he knew he was going to his death, and I--I let him go."

"Even you could not have turned him aside," said Dane.

"I--right or wrong--I did not try."

"He was a better man than I am," declared Dane. "But it is fortunate that there are women who can be content with less than the best, and make up the deficiencies themselves. Will you listen to a little tale, one which is rather amusing than somber?"

"Is it about the poacher? If so, you need not tell me. You must also take the confession I ought to make for granted. You were always a blunderer, Hilton."

"I dare say I was," Dane answered, laying his hand on the girl's shoulder in a masterful fashion. "And my last adventure was perhaps the maddest freak of all; but that is beside the question. I once made a very vague arrangement with you, though you kindly said we understood each other. Now, I must ask you, do you wish that understanding to continue. If so, the only way for me to keep it would be to go back to Africa. A steamer sails to-morrow."

"No," the girl said shyly, then lifted her head and glanced at her companion. "I dare not send you back to that hateful country, Hilton."

There was no need for further speech. Dane knew that he had won at last.

THE END