under the spell of a strong drug. At the doctor's door Burrell
stopped.

"I never thought to ask you," he said, wearily; "but you must be
hurt? He must have wounded you?"

"I reckon he did--I don't know." Then the man's listless voice
throbbed out achingly, as he cried in despair: "She believed him,
boy! She believed his lies! That's what hurts." Something like a sob
caught in his throat, and he staggered away under the weight of his
great bereavement.




CHAPTER XVII

THE LOVE OF POLEON DORET


To the girl crouching at the stern of Runnion's boat it seemed as if
this day and night would never end. It seemed as if the procession
of natural events must have ceased, that there was no longer any
time, for she had been suffering steadily for hours and hours
without end, and began to wonder dreamily whether she had not
skipped a day in her reckoning between the time when she first heard
of the strike on her claim and this present moment. It occurred to
her that she was a rich girl now in her own right, and she smiled
her crooked smile, as she reflected that the thing she had longed
for without hope of attainment had come with confusing swiftness,