When he had climbed out of the flume, and opened the lever for the river to rush through, he had felt as though ice--cold liquid flowed in his veins, not blood; and all day he had been like that.

He had moved much as one in a dream, and he had felt for the first time in his life that he was not ready to bluff creation.

He had always faced things down, as long as it could be done; and when it could not, he had retreated, with the comment that no man was wise who took gruel when he needn't.

He was now face to face with his greatest problem.

One thing was clear--they must either part for ever, or go together, and part no more.