Dave waited until the last echo of that welcome voice had died out.

Then, as his ears drank in the welcome song of his saws, plunging their jagged fangs into the newly-arrived logs, he was content.

He turned to the man in the chair.

"Did you hear that, Jim? D'you know what it means?" he asked, in a voice softened by the emotion of the moment.

Truscott's eyes lifted. But he made no answer. The light in them was ugly. He knew.

"It means that you are free to go," Dave went on. "It means that my contract will be successfully completed within the time limit. It means that you will leave this village at once and never return, or the penitentiary awaits you for the wrecking of my mills."

Truscott rose from his seat. The hate in his heart was stirring. It was rising to his head. The fury of his eyes was appalling. Dave saw it. He shifted his gun and gripped it tightly.

"Wait a bit, lad," he said coldly. "It means more than all that to you.

A good deal more. Can you guess it? It means that I--and not you--am going to marry Betty Somers."

"G.o.d!"

The man was. .h.i.t as Dave had meant him to be hit. He started, and his clenched hand went up as though about to strike. The devil in his eyes was appalling.

"Now go! Quick!"

The word leaped from the lumberman's lips, and his gun went up threateningly. For a moment it seemed as though Truscott was about to spring upon him, regardless of the weapon's shining muzzle. But he did not move. A gun in Dave's hand was no idle threat, and he knew it.

Besides he had not the moral strength of the other.

He moved to the door and opened it. Then for one fleeting second he looked back. It may have been to rea.s.sure himself that the gun was still there, it may have been a last expression of his hate. Another moment and he was gone. Dave replaced his gun beneath the blankets and sighed.

Betty sprang into the room.

"h.e.l.lo, door open?" she demanded, glancing about her suspiciously. Then her sparkling eyes came back to the injured man.

"Do you hear, Dave?" she cried, in an ecstasy of excitement. "Did you hear the siren! I pulled and held the valve cord! Did you hear it!

Thank G.o.d!"

Dave's happy smile was sufficient for the girl. Had he heard it? His heart was still ringing with its echoes.

"Betty, come here," he commanded. "Help me up."

"Why----"

"Help me up, dear," the man begged. "I must get up. I must get to the door. Don't you understand, child--I must see."

"But you can't go out, Dave!"

"I know. I know. Only to the door. But--I must see."

The girl came over to his bedside. She lifted him with a great effort.

He sat up. Then he swung his feet off the bed.

"Now, little girl, help me."

It felt good to him to enforce his will upon Betty in this way. And the girl obeyed him with all her strength, with all her heart stirred at his evident weakness.

He stood leaning on her shakily.

"Now, little Betty," he said, breathing heavily, "take me to the door."

He placed his sound arm round her shoulders. He even leaned more heavily upon her than was necessary. It was good to lean on her. He liked to feel her soft round shoulders under his arm. Then, too, he could look down upon the ma.s.ses of warm brown hair which crowned her head. To him his weakness was nothing in the joy of that moment, in the joy of his contact with her.

They moved slowly toward the door; he made the pace slower than necessary. To him they were delicious moments. To Betty--she did not know what she felt as her arm encircled his great waist, and all her woman's strength and love was extended to him.

At the door they paused. They stared out into the yards. The great mills loomed up in the ruddy flare light. It was a dark, shadowy scene in that inadequate light. The steady shriek of the saws filled the air.

The grinding of machinery droned forth, broken by the pulsing throb of great shafts and moving beams. Men were hurrying to and fro, dim figures full of life and intent upon the labors so long suspended. They could see the trimmed logs sliding down the shoots, they could hear the grind of the rollers, they could hear the shoutings of "checkers"; and beyond they could see the glowing reflection of the waste fire.

It was a sight that thrilled them both. It was a sight that filled their hearts with thanks to G.o.d. Each knew that it meant--Success.

Dave turned from the sight, and his eyes looked down upon the slight figure at his side. Betty looked up into his face. Her eyes were misty with tears of joy. Suddenly she dropped her eyes and looked again at the scene before them. Her heart was beating wildly. Her arm supporting the man at her side was shaking, nor was it with weariness of her task.

She felt that it could never tire of that. Dave's deep voice, so gentle, yet so full of the depth and strength of his nature, was speaking.

"It's good, Betty. It's good. We've won out--you and I."

Her lips moved to protest at the part she had played, but he silenced her.

"Yes, you and I," he said softly. "It's all ours--yours and mine.

You'll share it with me?" The girl's supporting arm moved convulsively.

"No, no," he went on quickly. "Don't take your arm away. I need--I need its support. Betty--little Betty--I need more than that. I need your support always. Say, dear, you'll give it me. You won't leave me alone now? Betty--Betty, I love you--so--so almighty badly."

The girl moved her head as though to avoid his kisses upon her hair.

Somehow her face was lifted in doing so, and they fell at once upon her lips instead.