his waist grew taut, then the water surged over him and he was
hurled high up on the beach again. He staggered dizzily back to
the struggle, when suddenly a wave lifted the capsized cutter and
righted it, and out from beneath shot the form of Wheaton, grimly
clutching the life-ropes. They brought him in choking and
breathless.

"I got it," he said, slapping his streaming breast. "It's all
right, Glenister, I knew what delay meant so I took a long chance
with the surf." The terrific ordeal he had undergone had blanched
him to the lips, his legs wabbled uncertainly, and he would have
fallen but for the young man, who thrust an arm about his waist
and led him up into the town.

"I went before the Circuit Court of Appeals in 'Frisco," he
explained later, "and they issued orders allowing an appeal from
this court and gave me a writ of supersedeas directed against old
Judge Stillman. That takes the litigation out of his hands
altogether, and directs McNamara to turn over the Midas and all
the gold he's got. What do you think of that? I did better than I
expected."

Glenister wrung his hand silently while a great satisfaction came
upon him. At last this waiting was over and his peaceful yielding
to injustice had borne fruit; had proven the better course after
all, as the girl had prophesied. He could go to her now with clean
hands. The mine was his again. He would lay it at her feet,
telling her once more of his love and the change it was working in
him. He would make her see it, make her see that beneath the
harshness his years in the wild had given him, his love for her