before, climb, if not to her proud place, at least where he did not come
as a beggar to a queen. Then, on his feet, the future clearing before
him, he could go to her and try and win. He drew a deep breath and looked
up at the stars, remote as she had seemed that evening. The lift of his
passion swept him aloft on a wave of will and he murmured, "If she were
there among you, I'd try and get to her and carry her away in my arms."

Meantime he would not go to her house any more--at least not for a long
time. There was no good; he was not the man to sit round in parlors
looking and acting like a fool. He could only work, blaze the trail,
make the clearing, raise the homestead, and when it was ready go and
tell her so.




CHAPTER IX

GREEK MEETS GREEK


Early on the evening when the Alstons had seen "The Zingara," Boye Mayer
walked up Kearney Street looking into florists' windows. A cigarette
depended from his lip, his opened overcoat disclosed the glossy whiteness
of a shield-like shirt bosom, his head was crowned by a shining top hat.
He was altogether a noticeable and distinguished figure.

He had been twice to the Albion and was going again this evening, having
already engaged the right-hand stage box. Now he was purporting to send
Pancha Lopez a third floral tribute and with it reveal his identity. The