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210 that sentence was an indication of devotion and loyalty that could not be mistaken. "She's—

"Look there!"

His whisper was the barest breath. They rose together, creeping toward the lantern. There was no wind, their movements were of the lightest, but in the center of the bed was a stirring, a heaving among the little trees—

The axe rose slowly; it poised, and then it swept down and buried itself in the ground—

"Got him!" cried Joe. "Got him!" as he turned back the earth with the blade.

He grinned then and spit in delight and repeated again and again that he had "got him."

Carefully he made temporary repairs to the damage in the bed and then picked up the lantern.

"Now we'll hit th' bunks, Johnny," he chuckled. "A good night's work, lad!"

They walked slowly toward the men's shanty, shoulder to shoulder, like old friends. Before the door they stopped and Taylor said:

"There's one thing I want to put up to you, Joe. You're the only man I can go to with it and it's about—Helen."

"Helen?"

"Yes."

"You'd do a lot for her, wouldn't you, Black Joe?"

"Who? Me? Dyin' would be easy—for her!"

He went on haltingly to extoll the girl's virtues and Taylor smoked thoughtfully, some of the perplexity that had been in his gathered brows even during that successful venture into a new friendship departing, a strange sort of twinkle in his eyes, and when Joe stopped Taylor looked