won't be long, perhaps a day. I want to go free a little while yet,
for I've got some work to do."

Burrell rose to his feet and stamped the cramps from his muscles. He
was deeply agitated, and his mind was groping darkly for light to
lay hold of this new thing that confronted him.

"Why, yes, yes--of course--don't come until you're ready," he
muttered, mechanically, as if unaware of the meaning of his words.
"To be sure, I'm a policeman, am I not? I had forgotten I was a
jailer, and--and all that." He said it sneeringly, and with a
measure of contempt for his office; then he turned suddenly to the
trader, and his voice was rich and deep-pitched with feeling.

"John Gale," he said, "you're the bravest man I ever knew, and the
best." He choked a bit. "You sacrificed all that life meant when
this girl was a baby, and now when she has come into womanhood you
give up your blood for her. By God! You are a man! I want your
hand!"

In spite of himself he could not restrain the moisture that dimmed
his eyes as he gripped the toil-worn palm of this great, gray hulk
of a man, so aged and bent beneath the burden of his life-long,
fadeless love, who, in turn, was powerfully affected by the young
man's impulsive outburst of feeling and his unexpected words of
praise. The old man looked up a trifle shyly.

"Then you don't doubt no part of it?"

"Certainly not."