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He waited until after dark, and then he crawled, with utmost difficulty, from the

deep pit. He had heard nothing of the natives since the night before, and now, in

the open, there came to him but the faint sounds of the village life across the

clearing.

Byrne dragged himself toward the trail that led to the spring where poor Theriere

had died. It took him a long time to reach it, but at last he was successful. The

clear, cold water helped to revive and strengthen him. Then he sought food. Some

wild fruit partially satisfied him for the moment, and he commenced the laborious

task of retracing his steps toward "Manhattan Island."

The trail that he had passed over in fifteen hours as he had hastened to the

rescue of Anthony Harding and Billy Mallory required the better part of three

days now. Occasionally he wondered why in the world he was traversing it

anyway. Hadn't he wanted to die, and leave Barbara free? But life is sweet, and

the red blood still flowed strong in the veins of the mucker.

"I can go my own way," he thought, "and not bother her; but I'll be dinged if I

want to croak in this God-forsaken hole--Grand Avenue for mine, when it comes

to passing in my checks. Gee! but I'd like to hear the rattle of the Lake Street 'L'

and see the dolls coming down the station steps by Skidmore's when the crowd

comes home from the Loop at night."

Billy Byrne was homesick. And then, too, his heart was very heavy and sad

because of the great love he had found--a love which he realized was as hopeless

as it was great. He had the memory, though, of the girl's arms about his neck,

and her dear lips crushed to his for a brief instant, and her words--ah, those

words! They would ring in Billy's head forever: "I love you, Billy, for what you

ARE."

And a sudden resolve came into the mucker's mind as he whispered those words

over and over again to himself. "I can't have her," he said. "She isn't for the likes

of me; but if I can't live with her, I can live for her--as she'd want me to live, and,

s'help me, those words'll keep me straight. If she ever hears of Billy Byrne again it

won't be anything to make her ashamed that she had her arms around him,

kissing him, and telling him that she loved him."

At the river's edge across from the little island Billy came to a halt. He had

reached the point near midnight, and hesitated to cross over and disturb the

party at that hour. At last, however, he decided to cross quietly, and lie down

near HER hut until morning.

The crossing was most difficult, for he was very weak, but at last he came to the

opposite bank and drew himself up to lie panting for a few minutes on the sloping

133

The Mucker