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The Project Gutenberg EBook of The
Helpers, by Francis Lynde
This eBook is for the use of anyone
anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You
may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project
Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online atwww.gutenberg.org
Title: The Helpers
Author: Francis Lynde
Release Date: March 14, 2014 [EBook
#45133]
Language: English
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK
THE HELPERS ***
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Produced by Suzanne Shell, Emmy and the
Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
This file was
produced from images generously made
available by The
Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
THE HELPERS
BY FRANCIS LYNDE
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BOSTON AND NEW YORK
HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND
COMPANYThe Riverside Press, Cambridge
1899
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COPYRIGHT, 1899, BY FRANCIS LYNDE
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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TO THE MEN AND
WOMEN OF THE
GUILD
COMPASSIONATE,GREETING:
Forasmuch as it hath seemed
good in the eyes of many to write of
those things which make for the
disheartening of all humankind,these things are written in the hope
that the God-gift of loving-kindness,
shared alike by saint and sinner,
may in some poor measure be given
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its due.
The Author.
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THE HELPERS
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CHAPTER I
The curtain had gone down on the firs
act of the opera, and Jeffard found his ha
and rose to go out. His place was th
fourth from the aisle, and after a
neffectual attempt to make a passagewa
for him without rising, the two youn
women and the elderly man stood up anfolded their opera chairs. Being driven t
hink pointedly of something else, Jeffar
neglected to acknowledge the courtesy
and the two young women balanced thaccount by discussing him after he ha
passed out of hearing.
"I think he might at least have sai
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Thank you,'" protested the one in th
black-plumed picture-hat, preening hersel
after the manner of ruffled birds an
disturbed womankind. "I'm in love wityour mountains, and your climate, an
your end-of-the-century impetus, but
can't say that I particularly admire Denve
manners."
The clear-eyed young woman in th
modest toque laughed joyously.
"Go on, Myra dear; don't mind me. It'
so refreshing to hear an out-of-churc
opinion on one's self. I know our manner
are perfectly primitive, but what can yoexpect when every train from the Eas
brings us a new lot of people to civilize
When you are tempted to groan over ou
shortcomings it'll comfort you wonderfull
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f you will just stop long enough t
remember that a good many of us are th
newest of new tenderfoots!"
"Tenderfoots! What an expression!"
"It's good English, though we did use t
say 'tenderfeet' before the 'Centur
Dictionary' set us right. And it calls th
urn, as poppa would say."
She of the far-reaching plumes bent he
eyebrows in severe deprecation.
"Connie, your slang is simply vicious
Will you be good enough to tell me wha
calls the turn' means?"
"Ask poppa."
Appealed to by the censorious one, th
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elderly man stopped twiddling the bit o
gold quartz on his watch-guard lon
enough to explain. He did it with a littl
hesitancy, picking his way among thwords as one might handle broken glass
or the edged tools of an unfamiliar trade
He was a plain man, and he stood i
considerable awe of the picture-hat and itwearer. When he had finished, the toqu
made honorable amends.
"I beg your pardon, Myra. Really, didn't know it had anything to do wit
gambling. But to go back to our manners
'll give you the ponies and the phaeton if
don't convince you that the absent-mindegentleman on our left here is the tenderes
of tenderfoots—most probably fro
Philadelphia, too," she added, i
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mischievous afterthought.
"You wouldn't dare!"
"You think not? Just wait and you'lsee. Oh, cousin mine, you've a lot to lear
about your kind, yet. If you stay out her
six months or a year, you will begin to
hink your philosophy hasn't been hal
dreamful enough."
"How absurd you are, Constance. If
didn't know you to be"—
"Wait a minute; let me start you of
right: good, and sensible, and modest, an
unassuming, and dutiful, and brimful ofads"—she checked the attributes off o
her fingers. "You see I have them all by
heart."
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The little cloud of dust puffing fro
beneath the drop-curtain began to subside
and the thumping and rumbling on th
stage died away what time the musicianwere clambering back to their places i
he orchestra. Miss Van Vetter swept the
aisles and the standing-room with he
opera-glass.
"You will not have a chance to prove
t, Connie. He isn't coming back."
"Don't you believe it. I am quite sur
he is a gentleman who always gets th
worth of his money."
"What makes you say that?"
"Oh, I don't know; intuition, I suppose
That's what they call it in a woman, thoug
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think it would be called good judgmen
n a man."
Taking him at his worst, Miss Elliott'erse characterization of Henry Jeffar
was not altogether inaccurate, though, i
he present instance, he would not hav
gone back to the theatre if he had knowwhat else to do with himself. Indeed, h
was minded not to go back, but a turn i
he open air made him think better of it
and he strolled in as the curtain warising. Whereupon the elderly man and th
wo young women had to stand agai
while he edged past them to his chair.
This time he remembered, and sai
something about being sorry to troubl
hem. Miss Elliott's chair was next to his
and she smiled and nodded reassuringly
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Jeffard was moody and disheartened, an
he nod and the smile went near to th
better part of him. He kept his seat durin
he next intermission, and ventured a civicommonplace about the opera. The youn
woman replied in kind, and the wheel thu
set in motion soon rolled away from th
beaten track of trivialities into a pateading straight to the fulfillment of Mis
Elliott's promise to her cousin.
"Then you haven't been long iDenver," she hazarded on the strength of
remark which betrayed his unfamiliarit
with Colorado.
"Only a few weeks."
"And you like it? Every one does, yo
know."
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Jeffard tried to look decorousl
acquiescent and made a failure of it.
"I suppose I ought to be polite and sayes; but for once in a way, I'm going to b
sincere and say no."
"You surprise me! I thought everybody
and especially new-comers, liked Denver
enthusiastically at first, and rather mor
han less afterward."
"Perhaps I am the exception," h
suggested, willing to concede something
"I fancy it depends very much upon th
point of view. To be brutally frank abou
t, I came here—like some few hundred
of others, I presume—to make my fortune
and I think I would better have stayed a
home. I seem to have arrived a decade o
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wo after the fact."
The young woman never swerved fro
her intention by a hair's-breadth."Yes?" she queried. "It's too true tha
hese are not the palmy days of th
Matchless' and the 'Little Pittsburg
notwithstanding Creede and Crippl
Creek. And yet it would seem that eve
now our Colorado is a fairer field fo
ambition and energy than"—
She paused, and Jeffard, with a
unanalyzed impression that it was bot
very singular and very pleasant to b
alking thus freely with a self-containe
young woman whose serenity wa
apparently undisturbed by any notions o
conventionality, said, "Than a city of th
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fifth class in New England, let us say
Yes, I concede that, if you include
ambition; but when it comes to a plai
question of earning a living"—
"Oh, as to that," she rejoined, quit
willing to argue with him now that he
point was gained, "if it is merely question of getting enough to eat and drin
suppose that can be answered anywhere
Even the Utes managed to answer it her
before the Government began feedinhem."
He regarded her curiously, trying to
determine her social point of view by thmany little outward signs of prosperit
which tasteful simplicity, unhampered b
a lean purse, may exhibit.
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"I wonder if you know anything at al
about it," he said, half musingly.
"About getting something to eat?" Heaugh was a ripple of pure joy that had th
onic of the altitudes in it. "I dare say
don't—not in any practical way; though
do go about among our poor people. Thas what makes me uncharitable. I can
help knowing why so many people have t
go hungry."
Jeffard winced as if the uncharity had
personal application.
"We were speaking of fortunes," he
corrected, calmly ignoring the fact that hi
own remark had brought up the question o
he struggle for existence. "I think my ow
case is a fair example of what comes o
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chasing ambitious phantoms. I gave up
modest certainty at home to come here
and"—The musicians were taking thei
places again, and he stopped abruptly.
"And now?" The words uttere
hemselves, and she was sorry for the
when they were beyond recall.
His gesture was expressive of disgust
but there was no resentment in his reply.
"That was some time ago, as I hav
ntimated; and I am still here an
beginning to wish very heartily that I ha
never come. I presume you can infer th
rest."
The leader lifted his baton, and th
curtain rose on the third act of the opera
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At the same moment the curtain o
unacquaintance, drawn aside a hand's
breadth by the young woman's curiosity
fell between these two who knew not smuch as each other's names, and wh
assumed—if either of them though
anything about it—that the wave of chanc
which had tossed them together woulpresently sweep them apart again.
After the opera the ebbing tide o
humanity did so separate them; but whehe man had melted into the crowd in th
foyer, the young woman had a curiou
ittle thrill of regret; a twinge of remors
born of the recollection that she had madhim open the book of his life to a strange
for the satisfying of a mere whim o
curiosity.
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Miss Van Vetter was ominously silen
on the way home, but she made it a poin
of conscience to go to Constance's roo
before her cousin had gone to bed.
"Connie Elliott," she began, "yo
deserve to be shaken! How did you dar
o talk with that young man withouknowing the first syllable about him?"
Constance sat down on the edge of th
bed and laughed till the tears came.
"Oh, Myra dear," she gasped, "it'
worth any amount of disgrace to see yo
ruffle your feathers so beautifully. Don
you see that I talked to him just because
didn't know any of the syllables? And h
old me a lot of them."
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"I should think he did. I suppose h
will call on you next."
Connie the unconventional becamMiss Elliott in the smallest appreciabl
apse of time. "Indeed, he will not. H
knows better than to do that, even if he is
en—"
But Miss Van Vetter was gone.
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CHAPTER II
When Jeffard left the theatre he went t
his room; but not directly. He made
detour of a few squares which took hi
down Sixteenth Street to Larimer, and so
on around to his lodging, which was in th
neighborhood of the St. James hotel.
After the manner of those whose going
and comings have reached the accusativ
point, he took the trouble to assure himsel
hat the burning of a cigar in the open ai
was the excuse for the roundabout walk
but the real reason showed its head for
moment or two when he slackened hi
pace at one point in the circuit an
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glanced furtively up at a row of carefull
shaded windows in the second story of
building on the opposite side of the street
The lower part of the building wa
dark and deserted; but in the alley ther
was a small hallway screened by a pair o
swing doors with glass eyes in them, anat the end of the hallway a carpeted stai
eading up to the lighted room above. I
was to keep from climbing this stair tha
Jeffard had gone to the theatre earlier ihe evening.
Opposite the alley he stopped an
made as if he would cross the street, buhe impulse seemed to expend itself in th
moment of hesitation, and he went o
again, slowly, as one to whom dubiety ha
ent its leaden-soled shoes. Reaching hi
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room he lighted the gas and dropped into
chair, his hands deep-buried in hi
pockets, and a look of something lik
desperation in his eyes.
The suggestive outline of his Western
experience sketched between the acts o
he opera for the young woman with threassuring smile was made up of half
ruths, as such confidences are wont to be
t was true that he had come to Colorad
o seek his fortune, and that thus far thquest had been bootless. But it was als
rue that he had begun by persuadin
himself that he must first study hi
environment; and that the curriculuwhich he had chosen was comprehensive
exhaustive, and costly enough to speedil
absorb the few thousand dollars whic
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were to have been his lure for success.
His walk in life hitherto had bee
decently irreproachable, hedged in oeither hand by such good habits as may b
formed by the attrition of a mora
community; but since these were more th
attributes of time and place than of thman, and were unconsciously left behin
n the leave-takings, a species of insanity
known only to those who have habituall
worn the harness of self-restraint, hacome upon him in the new environment. A
first it had been but a vagrant impulse, an
as such he had suffered it to put a bandag
on the eyes of reason. Later, when hwould fain have removed the bandage, h
found it tied in a hard knot.
For the hundredth time within a mont
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he was once more tugging at the knot. To
give himself the benefit of an object
esson, he turned his pockets inside out
hrowing together a small heap of loossilver and crumpled bank-notes on th
able. After which he made a deliberat
accounting, smoothing the creases out o
he bills, and building an accurate littlpillar with the coins. The exact su
ascertained, he sat back and regarded th
money reflectively.
"Ninety-five dollars and forty-fiv
cents. That's what there is left out of th
nest-egg; and I've been here rather les
han four months. At that rate I'vaveraged, let me see"—he knitted hi
brows and made an approximat
calculation—"say, fifty dollars a day
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Consequently, the mill will run out of gris
n less than two days, or it would if th
aw of averages held good—which i
doesn't, in this case. Taking the lasfortnight as a basis, I'm capitalized for jus
about one hour longer."
He looked at his watch and got upwearily. "It's Kismet," he mused. "I migh
as well take my hour now, and be don
with it." Whereupon he rolled the mone
nto a compact little bundle, turned off thgas, and felt his way down the dark stai
o the street.
At the corner he ran against a stalwaryoung fellow, gloved and overcoated, and
carrying a valise.
"Why, hello, Jeffard, old man," said th
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raveler heartily, stopping to shake hands
"Doing time on the street at midnight, a
usual, aren't you? When do you ever catc
up on your sleep?"
Jeffard's laugh was perfunctory. "
don't have much to do but eat and sleep,
he replied. "Have you been somewhere?"
"Yes; just got down from the mine—
rain was late. Same old story with you,
suppose? Haven't found the barrel omoney rolling up hill yet?"
Jeffard shook his head.
"Jeff, you're an ass—that's what yoare; a humpbacked burro of the Saguache
at that! You come out here in the morning
of a bad year with a piece of sheepskin i
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your grip, and the Lord knows what littl
pickings of civil engineering in your head
and camp down in Denver expecting you
ucky day to come along and slap you ihe face. Why don't you come up on th
range and take hold with your hands?"
"Perhaps I'll have to before I gehrough," Jeffard admitted; and then
"Don't abuse me to-night, Bartrow. I'v
about all I can carry."
The stalwart one put his free arm abou
his friend and swung him around to th
ight.
"And that isn't the worst of it," he wen
on, ignoring Jeffard's protest. "You've
been monkeying with the fire and gettin
your fingers burned; and, as a matter o
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course, making ducks and drakes of you
ittle stake. Drop it all, Jeffard, and com
across to the St. James and smoke a ciga
with me."
"I can't to-night, Bartrow. I'm in a blu
funk, and I've got to walk it off."
"Blue nothing! You'll walk about two
blocks, more or less, and then you'll pul
up a chair and proceed to burn you
fingers some more. Oh, I know thsymptoms like a book."
Jeffard summoned his dignity, and
found some few shreds and patches of i
eft. "Bartrow, there is such a thing a
overdrawing one's account with a friend,
he returned stiffly. "I don't want to quarre
with you. Good-night."
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Three minutes later the goggle-eye
swing doors opened and engulfed him. A
he top of the carpeted stair he met a hard
faced man who was doubling a thick sheaof bank-notes into portable shape. Th
outgoer nodded, and tapped the rol
significantly. "Go in and break 'em," h
rasped. "The bank's out o' luck to-nighand it's our rake-off. I win all I can stand.
Jeffard pushed through another swin
door and went to the faro-table. Countinhis money he dropped the odd chang
back into his pocket and handed the bill
o the banker.
"Ninety-five?" queried the man; an
when Jeffard nodded, he pushed th
requisite number of blue, red, and whit
counters across the table. Jeffard arrange
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hem in a symmetrical row in front of him
and began to play with the singleness o
purpose which is the characteristic of tha
particular form of dementia.
It was the old story with the usua
variations. He lost, won, and then los
again until he could reckon his counters bunits. After which the tide turned onc
more, and the roar of its flood dinned i
his ears like the drumming of a tornado i
a forest. His capital grew by leaps anbounds, doubling, trebling, and finall
quadrupling the sum he had handed th
banker. Then his hands began to shake
and the man on his right paused in his owplay long enough to say, "Now's yer tim
o cash in, pardner. Yer nerve's a-
flickerin'."
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The prudent advice fell upon deaf ears
Jeffard's soul was Berserk in the fierc
battle with chance, and he began placin
he counters upon certain of the inlaicards before him, stopping only when h
had staked his last dollar. Five minute
afterward he was standing on the sidewal
again, drawing in deep breaths of the keemorning air, and wondering if it were onl
he possession of the thing called mone
hat kept one's head from buzzin
ordinarily. In the midst of the unspoke
query the shuffling figure of a night tramp
sidled up to him, and he heard imperfectl
he stereotyped appeal."Hungry, you say? Perhaps I'll be that
myself, before long. Here you are."
The odd change jingled into th
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outstretched palm of the vagrant, and fo
he first time in a fairly industrious lif
Jeffard knew what it felt like to be quit
without money.
"That is, I think I do, but I don't," h
mused, walking slowly in the direction o
his room. "It isn't breakfast-time yet; anby the same token, it isn't going to be for
good while. I believe I can sleep the cloc
around, now that I've reached the bottom."
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CHAPTER III
When one has sown the wind, and th
whirlwind harvest is begun, it is easy t
magine that the first few strokes of th
sickle have gathered in all the bitternes
here is in the crop. Some such illusor
assumption lent itself to Jeffard's moo
when he assured himself that he hafinally reached the bottom; but the light o
a new day, and a habit of early risin
which was not to be broken at such shor
notice, brought a clearer perspective.
In lieu of breakfast he walked up on
street and down another, carefull
avoiding the vicinity of the St. James fo
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fear Bartrow might offer him hospitality
and dodging the haunts of his few
acquaintances in the downtow
horoughfares for the same reason. Thidrove him to the residence district; an
out in Colfax Avenue he met the elderly
man whom he had taken to be the father o
he young woman with the kindly nod ansmile.
Seeing him in daylight, Jeffar
recognized a familiar figure of the MininExchange and the brokers' offices, an
hought it not unlikely that he migh
presently stumble upon the home of th
young woman. He found it a square or twfarther out, identifying it by a glimpse o
he young woman herself, who was on th
veranda, looping up the tendrils of
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climbing rose.
At sight of her Jeffard forgot hi
penalties for the moment, and the earlmorning sunshine seemed to take on
kindlier glow. She was standing on th
arm of a clumsy veranda-chair, tryin
vainly to reach the higher branches of throse, and Jeffard remarked that she wa
small almost to girlishness. But th
suggestion of immaturity paused with he
stature. The rounded arms discovered bhe loose sleeves of her belted house
gown; the firm, full outline of her figure
he crowning glory of red-brown hair wit
he heart of the sunlight in it; the selfcontained poise on the arm of the grea
chair; these were all womanly, and th
glimpse stirred the waters of a neglecte
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pool in Jeffard's past as he went on hi
aimless way along the avenue.
There was a closely written leaf in thbook of memory which he had sought t
ear out and destroy; but the sight of th
graceful figure poised on the arm of th
big chair opened the record at thforbidden page, and the imagine
personality of the sweet-faced youn
woman with the red-brown hair an
sympathetic eyes set itself antitheticallover against the self-seeking ambition o
he girl who had written her own epitap
n the book of his remembrance. He gav
place to the sharply defined contrast for ime, indulging it as one who plunges no
unwillingly into the past for the sake o
escaping the present, and banishing it onl
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when his shortening shadow gave toke
hat the chance of a breakfast invitatio
was no longer to be apprehended.
But when he turned his face cityward i
was with a conscious avoidance of th
route which would lead him past the hous
with a climbing rose on one of its verandpillars. For what had a man to whom th
proletary's highway was already openin
up its cheerless vista to do with love, an
dalliance, and heaven-suggestive pictureof domestic beatitude?
Once more in Sixteenth Street, th
moneyless reality thrust itself upon hiwith renewed insistence, and he turned
corner abruptly to escape an acquaintanc
who was crossing the street. The shame o
t was too new to strike hands wit
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dissimulation as yet, and companionshi
was least of all things to be desired. If h
could but win back to his room unaccoste
and lock himself in until the sharpness ohunger should have exorcised the devil o
humiliation, he might hope to be able t
face an accusing world with suc
equanimity as may be born of desperation
But fate willed otherwise. As he wa
passing a deep-set doorway giving on th
sidewalk, a friendly arm shot out anbarred the way. Jeffard looked up with a
unspoken malediction on his tongue. I
was Bartrow. In his haste to gain hi
odging the shamed one had forgotten thproximity of the St. James hotel.
"You're a chump!" declared the broad
shouldered young miner, backing Jeffard
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against the wall and pinning him fast wit
one finger. "You're no man's man, and
you're not fit to live in a man's town. Wh
didn't you come around to breakfast thimorning, like decent people?"
"I'm not boarding at the St. Jame
now." Jeffard tried to say it naturally, buhe evasion was palpable enough.
"What of that? Couldn't you afford t
be sociable once in a way?"
Jeffard prevaricated, and since he wa
but a clumsy liar, contrived to fall into
snare of his own setting.
"I was up too early for you, I guess
When I came by, the clerk told me yo
weren't down yet."
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Bartrow shook his head and appeare
o be much moved.
"What an abnormal liar that clerk musbe," he commented reflectively. "I asked
him five minutes ago if any one ha
nquired for me, and he said no."
Jeffard hung his head and would hav
ried to break away; but Bartrow locke
arms with him and dragged him whither h
would.
"I'll forgive you this time," he went on
aughing at Jeffard's discomfiture. "
suppose you had your reasons for dodging
and while it's ten to one they were n
good, that leaves one chance in you
favor. Have a smoke?"
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Now Jeffard's poverty-pride was fire
new as yet, and though the smell o
Bartrow's cigar made him faint wit
desire, he refused the gift.
"Haven't quit, have you?" Bartrow
demanded.
"No—yes; that is, I have for th
present. I'm not feeling very well thi
morning."
"You look it; every inch of it. Let's go
around and see what the money people ar
doing. Maybe that'll chirk you up a bit."
Jeffard yielded, partly becausBartrow's impetus was always of th
rresistible sort, and partly because h
could think of no plausible objection o
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he spur of the moment. Bartrow talke
cheerily all the way around to the Minin
Exchange, telling of his claims an
prospects in Chaffee County, and warmino his subject as only a seasone
Coloradoan can when the talk is o
"mineral" and mining. Jeffard, bein
hungry, and sick with a fierce longing foobacco, said little, and was duly thankfu
hat Bartrow required no more than
word now and then to keep him going
one the less he watched narrowly for
chance to escape, and was visibl
depressed when none offered.
In the crowded Exchange the povertypride began to lose the fine keenness of it
edge. The atmosphere of the room wa
pungent with cigar smoke, and the tobacc
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craving rose up in its might and smot
down Jeffard's self-respect.
"If you'll excuse me a minute, Dick, believe I'll go out and get a cigar as
measure of self-defense," he said; an
Bartrow supplied his need, as a matter o
course. It was a shameful subterfuge, anhe loathed himself for having descende
o it. Nevertheless, he took the ciga
which Bartrow made haste to offer, and
ighted it. The first few whiffs made hidizzy, but afterward he was bette
company for the enthusiast.
While they were talking, the elderlman with the bit of quartz on his watch
chain came in, and Jeffard inquired i
Bartrow knew him.
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"Know Steve Elliott? I should say I do
Everybody knows him, barring now an
hen a tenderfoot like yourself. Beside
being one of the most lovable old infanton top of earth, he's one of Denver'
picturesques. That old man has had mor
ups and downs than any three men i
Colorado; and that's saying a good deal."
"In what way?"
"Oh, every way. He's a Fifty-niner, tobegin with; came across the plains in
bull-train to hunt for mineral. He found i
—Steve would find it if anybody could—
but some sharp rascal euchred him out ot, and he's been finding it and losing it a
regular intervals ever since."
Jeffard blew a cloud of smoke towar
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he ceiling, and took in the outwar
presentment of the pioneer in a
appraisive eye-sweep. "This is one of th
finding intervals, I take it."
"Sure. He's on top just now,—rathe
more so than usual, I believe,—but th
pioneer's luck' will catch him again somday, and just as likely as not he'll b
hustling around for a grub-stake."
"Man of family?" queried Jeffard.
"Yes, if a daughter's a family. His wife
died in one of the lean years a long tim
ago. But say, Jeffard, you ought to know
he daughter. She's as pretty as a peach
and as bright as a new nickel. She's ha
her share of the ups and downs, an
hey've made a queer little medley of her
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Trap and tandem and a big house o
Capitol Hill one month, and as like as no
wo rooms in a block and a ride in th
street-cars the next. That's about the waConnie Elliott's had it all her life, and it'
made her as wide awake as a frost
morning, and as good as a Sister o
Charity."
"I can believe all that," Jeffar
admitted, meaning more than he said.
"Yes, you're safe in believing all the
good things you hear about Steve Ellio
and his daughter. They're good people. B
he way, why can't you come up to thhouse with me some evening and ge
acquainted? They've a Philadelphia cousi
staying with them now, and you migh
compare notes on the 'wild and woolly
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with her."
Jeffard had a string of excuses ready
ending with, "Besides, there are particulareasons why I don't wish to meet Mis
Elliott just now—reasons that I can
explain."
"Reasons be hanged! Just you stan
still a minute while I go get the old ma
and introduce you. You'll like him a whol
ot."
Bartrow did his part, but by the time h
had pulled Elliott out of the throng in fron
of the quotation board, Jeffard was tw
squares away, headed once more for th
suburbs. This time he crossed the rive
and tramped for hours in the Highlands
He told himself he was killing time an
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keeping out of the way of the luncheo
hour; but in reality he was fighting
desperate battle with pride, or self
respect, or whatever it is that makes a mawho is not a born vagrant shrink from tha
species of cannibalism which begins wit
he eating of one's personal possessions.
It was an unequal fight at best, sinc
hunger was the besieger, but Jeffard mad
shift to prolong it until the long day o
fasting was drawing to its close. Hyielded at last, as needs must when famin
drives, but the capitulation was upo
conditions, and his heart was soft wit
repentant kneadings. Since one must eat tive, the pride-quenching thing must com
o pass; but the doing of it should be th
pivot upon which he would turn back t
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sanity and industrious thrift. The loss o
his small patrimony and the hard-earne
savings by which it had been fairl
doubled was shrewd upon him, but he tolhimself that the consequences of his foll
must be set over against the experience
hat he must be content to begin again a
he bottom, as his father had before himhankful for the youth and strength whic
made such a beginning possible.
From the preliminary survey openitence to plotting out the map of goo
ntentions is an easy stage, and Jeffar
beguiled the long tramp townward b
building air-castles spacious and manystoried, with the new resolutions for thei
foundations. But when the sidewalks o
he streets were once more under his feet
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he pride-quenching necessity urged itsel
afresh, plying the lash of shame until h
was driven to tramp yet other square
before he could attain to the plunginpoint.
He was passing the Albany when th
climax was reached, and he turned asido get a light for the carefully economize
stump of Bartrow's cigar before setting ou
o find a pawnshop where his pride migh
suffer least. At the cigar counter in throtunda a giant in rough tweeds, with a
unshorn beard and the fine bronze of th
grazing plains on face and hands, wa
filling his case with high-priced Cubanfrom an open box. At sight of Jeffard h
dropped the cigar-case and roared out
mighty welcome.
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"Well, I'll be ——! Jeffard, my boy
where under the canopy did you dro
from? If I haven't had a search-warrant ou
for you all day, I'm a liar and the truth hashook me. Been to dinner?—but of cours
you haven't; or if you have, you are goin
o eat another with me right now. How'v
you been? and where in Tophet have youbeen hiding out?"
Jeffard smiled. "That's the place—i
Tophet and elsewhere; but I haven't beenout of town since you were here last."
"The devil you haven't! Then what di
hat muley maverick at the hotel meawhen he said you were gone?"
"Gone from the hotel, I guess he mean
've been 'eating around,' as we used t
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say back in the Berkshire Hills."
"Have, eh? Well, you're going to 'ea
around' with me to-night, savez? I was jusgoing to swear a few lines and go up an
eat by myself. Come on; let's get a move
've got a train-load of steers on the iron
and I'm due to chase 'em at eight-thirtyBut before I forget it, here"—the big ma
found a compact little wad of bank-note
n his vest pocket and thrust it int
Jeffard's hand. "I counted that out the nexmorning and meant to give it back to you
but the thing got away from me slick an
clean."
"Give it back to me?" queried Jeffard
with a sudden swelling of the throat tha
made his voice husky and tremulous
"what is it?"
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"Why, it's the hundred I borrowed o
you the last time we took in the menageri
ogether. What's the matter with you
Don't tell me you don't remember it, or shall go kick myself around the block fo
an over-honest idiot!"
Jeffard did not remember it; could budimly recall the circumstances now that h
was reminded of them. The lending ha
been in a moment of supreme excitemen
n the midst of a feverish attack of thdementia; the loan was in celluloi
counters, in fact, and not in legal tender a
all. And having been made, it was swiftl
ost sight of in the varying fortunes of thsitting. None the less, the return of it at th
precise moment when it was most neede
drove the thankfulness to his eyes, and th
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ights of the great rotunda swam in a mist
haze when he thought of the humiliatin
hing from which the small Providenc
had saved him.
"Pettigrew," he said, when he could
rust himself to speak, "you're an hones
man, and that's the worst that can be saiof you. I had forgotten it long ago. Take
me in and fill me up. I've been trampin
all day, and it runs in my mind that I'v
skipped a meal or two."
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CHAPTER IV
The dancing party at the Calmaines
was a crush, as Mrs. Calmaine's socia
enlargements were wont to be. For a
hour or more the avenue had been a
rumble with carriages coming and going
and a trickling stream of bidden one
flowed steadily inward under the electricighted awning, which extended th
welcome of the hospitable house to th
very curb.
Thanks to Myra Van Vetter, whose
iring was always of the most leisurely
he Elliotts were fashionably late; and th
elderly man, with the hesitant ai
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accentuated by the unwonted dress-coa
had much ado to win through the throng i
he drawing-rooms with his charges. Hi
greeting to the hostess was sincere rathehan well-turned in its phrasing; but Mrs
Calmaine was sweetly gracious.
"So glad to see you, Stephen," shprotested; "the old friends can never b
spared, you know." She shook hands wit
unaffected cordiality, and her tactful us
of the elderly man's Christian name wenfar toward effacing the afflictive dress
coat. "Miss Van Vetter, you are quite
radiant to-night. You spoil all one's ideals
of Quaker demureness."
"Oh, Myra's demure enough, only yo
have to be her country cousin to find i
out," put in Connie maliciously; and whe
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her father and Miss Van Vetter had made
room for later comers, she waited fo
another word with the hostess.
"Just a hint, before I'm submerged," sh
began, when her opportunity came. "I'
unattached, and particularly good-nature
and docile to-night. Make use of me jusas you would of Delia or Bessie. You've
everybody here, as usual, and if I can help
you amuse people"—
"Thank you, Connie, dear; that is ver
sweet of you. There are people here to
night who seem not to belong to any one
Here comes one of them now."
Constance looked and saw a youn
man making his way toward them;
soldierly figure, with square shoulder
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and the easy bearing of one who has live
much in the open; but with a face whic
was rather thoughtful than strong, thoug
ts lines were well masked under a closerimmed beard and virile mustaches. Sh
recognized her unintroduced acquaintanc
of the theatre; and a minute or tw
afterward, when Mrs. Calmaine woulhave presented the new-comer, Mis
Elliott had disappeared.
"Let's sit down here, Teddy; this is agood a place as any. You poor boy! i
bores you dreadfully, doesn't it? How
rying it must be to be blasé at—shall
say twenty? or is it twenty-one?"
The dancing was two hours old, an
Connie and the smooth-faced boy wh
stood for the hopes of the house o
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Calmaine were sitting out the intermissio
on a broad step of the main stair.
"Oh, I'm young, but I'll outgrow that,rejoined the youth tolerantly. "All th
same, you needn't bully me because you'v
a month or two the advantage. Shall I g
and get you something to eat, or drink?"
"No, thank you, Teddy; I'm neithe
hungry nor thirsty. But you might give m
he recipe for being good-natured whepeople make game of you."
"Yes; I think I see myself giving you
points on that," said the boy, with fran
admiration in his eyes. "I'm not running a
angel-school just at present."
Connie's blush was reproachful. "You
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ridiculous boy!" she retorted. "You'll be
making love to me next, just the same as i
we hadn't known each other all our lives
Do you talk that way to other girls? or aryou only practicing on me so that yo
can?"
Teddy Calmaine shook his head"There isn't anybody else," he asserted
with mock earnestness. "My celestia
acquaintance is too limited. When th
goddess goes, there are no half-goddesseo take her place."
Connie sniffed sympathetically, and
hen laughed at him. "You ought to haveseen me yesterday, when poppa brough
old Jack Hawley home with him. Popp
and Jack were partners in the 'Vesta,' and
Mr. Hawley hadn't seen me since I was in
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pinafores. He called me 'little girl,' an
wanted to know if I went to school, an
how I was getting along!"
Young Calmaine made a dumb show o
applause. "O umbræ Pygmæorum! Wh
wasn't I there to see! But you mustn't b
oo hard on old Jack. Half the people herwho don't know you think you're a
escaped schoolgirl; I've heard 'em. That'
why I took pity on you and"—
"Teddy Calmaine, go away and find m
somebody to talk to; a grown man, if yo
please. You make me tired."
The boy got up with a quizzical grin o
his smooth face. "I'll do it," he assente
affably; "I'm no end good-natured, as yo
remarked a few minutes ago."
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When he was gone Connie forgot him
and fell into a muse, with the sights an
sounds of the crush for its motive. Fro
her perch on the stair she could look dowon the shifting scene in the wide entranc
hall, and through the archway beyond sh
had a glimpse of the circling figures in th
ball-room swaying rhythmically to thmusic. It was all very delightful an
oyous, and she enjoyed it with a zes
which was yet undulled by satiety. Non
he less, the lavishness of it oppresse
her, and a vague protest, born of othe
sights and scenes sharply contrasted bu
no less familiar to the daughter of StepheElliott, began to shape itself in her heart
How much suffering a bare tithe of th
wealth blazing here in jewels on fai
hands and arms and necks woul
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alleviate. And how many hungry mouth
might be filled from the groaning tables i
he supper-room.
Miss Elliott came out of her reveri
reluctantly at the bidding of her lat
companion. Teddy Calmaine had obeye
her literally; and when she turned he wapresenting the soldierly young man wit
he pointed beard and curling mustaches.
"Miss Elliott, this is Mr. Jeffard. Yousaid you wanted a"—
"An ice, Teddy," she cut in, with a loo
which was meant to be obliterative. "Bu
you needn't mind it now. Will you have
half a stair-step, Mr. Jeffard?"
She made room for him, but he wa
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mindful of his obligations.
"Not if you will give me this waltz."
She glanced at her card and looked upat him with a smile which was hal
pleading and half quizzical. "Must I?"
He laughed and sat down beside her"There is no 'must' about it. I was hopin
you would refuse."
"Oh, thank you."
"For your sake rather than my own," h
hastened to add. "I am a wretche
dancer."
"What a damaging admission!"
"Is it? Do you know, I had hoped yo
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wouldn't take that view of it."
"I don't," she admitted, quite frankly
"We take it seriously, as we do most oour amusements, but it's a relic o
barbarism. Once, when I was a very littl
girl, my father took me to see a Ute scalp
dance,—without the scalps, of course,—and—well, first impressions are apt to b
asting. I never see a ball-room in actio
without thinking of Fire-in-the-Snow an
his capering braves."
Jeffard smiled at the conceit, but h
spoke to the truism.
"I hope your first impressions of m
won't be lasting," he ventured. "I think
was more than usually churlish last night."
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She glanced up quickly. "There should
be no 'last night' for us," she averred.
"Forgive me; you are quite right. Buno matter what happens there always wil
be."
Her gaze lost itself among the circlin
figures beyond the archway, and the trut
of the assertion drove itself home with
winge of something like regret. But whe
she turned to him again there waunashamed frankness in the clear gra
eyes.
"What poor minions the convention
have made us," she said. "Let us b
primitive and admit that our acquaintanc
began last night. Does that help you?"
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"It will help me very much, if you wil
et me try to efface the first impression."
"Does it need effacing?""I think it must. I was moody and hal
desperate."
He stopped, and she knew that he wawaiting for some sign of encouragemen
She looked away again, meaning not t
give it. It is one of the little martyrdoms o
sympathetic souls to invite confidence
and thereby to suffer vicariously for th
misdoings of the erring majority, and he
burdens in this wise were many an
heavy. Why should she go out of her wa
o add to them those of this man who ough
o be abundantly able to carry his own
Thus the unspoken question, and th
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answer came close upon the heels of it
But for her own curiosity,—impertinence
she had begun to call it,—the occasio
would never have arisen.
"I am listening," she said, giving hi
his sign.
Being permitted to speak freely
Jeffard found himself suddenly tongue
ied. "I don't know what I ought to say,—
f, indeed, I ought to say anything at all,he began. "I think I gave you to understan
hat the world had been using me rathe
hardly."
"And if you did?"
A palpitant couple, free of the waltz
came up the stair, and Jeffard rose to mak
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way. When the breathless ones perched
hemselves on the landing above, he wen
on, standing on the step below her an
eaning against the baluster.
"If I did, it was an implied untruth. It'
a trite saying that the world is what w
make it, and I am quite sure now that have been making my part of it since
came to Denver. I'm not going to afflic
you with the formula, but I shall feel bette
for having told you that I have torn it upand thrown it away."
"And you will write out another?"
"Beginning with to-morrow. I leav
Denver in the morning."
"You are not going back?" She said i
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with a little tang of deprecation in th
words.
His heart warmed to the small flash ofriendly interest, and he smiled and shoo
his head. "No, that would never do—
without the fortune, you know. I'm going to
he mountains; with pick and shovel, ineed be. I should have started to-night if
hadn't found Mrs. Calmaine's invitation
She has been very good to me in a socia
way, and I could do no less than come.He said it apologetically, as if the dip into
he social pool on the eve of the new
setting forth demanded an explanation.
She smiled up at him. "Does it need a
apology? Are you sorry you came?"
"Sorry? It's the one wise thing I'v
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done these four months. I shall always b
glad—and thankful." It was on his tongu
o say more; to dig the pit of confessio
still deeper, as one who, finding himself ahe shrine of compassionate purity, would
be assoilzied for all the wrong-doings an
follies and stumblings of a misguided pas
o say many things for which he had nshadow of warrant, and to which the self
contained young woman on the step befor
him could make no possible rejoinder; bu
he upcoming of the man whose nam
stood next on Connie's card saved him. A
moment later he was taking his leave.
"Not going to break away now, aryou, Jeffard?" said the fortunate one
helping Connie to rise.
"Yes; I must cut it short. I leave town
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n the morning. Miss Elliott, will you bi
me Godspeed?"
She put her hand in his and said whawas meet; and to the man who stoo
beside her the parting appeared to b
neither more nor less than conventionall
formal. But when Jeffard was free of thhouse and swinging along on his wa
cityward, the spirit of it made itself
name to live; and out of the God-spee
and the kindly phrase of leavetaking thnew-blown fire of good intention distille
a subtle liqueur of jubilance which sang i
his veins like the true wine o
rejuvenescence; so nearly may thalchemy of pure womanhood transmut
sounding brass, or still baser metal, int
he semblance of virgin gold.
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So Jeffard went his way reflective, an
while he mused the fire burned and he saw
himself in his recent stumblings in th
valley of dry bones as a thing apart. Frohe saner point of view it seeme
ncredible that he could ever have bee
he thrall of such an ignoble passion a
hat which had so lately despoiled him ansent him to tramp the streets like a hungr
vagrant. As yet the lesson was but a few
hours old, but the barrier it had thrown up
between the insensate yesterday and th
rational to-day seemed safely impassable
n the strength of reinstated reason
confidence returned; and close upon thheels of confidence, temerity. His reveri
had led him past the corner where h
should have turned westward, and whe
he took cognizance of his surroundings h
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was standing opposite the alley-way of th
glass-eyed doors. He glanced at hi
watch. It was midnight. Twenty-four hour
before, almost to the minute, he had beedragged irresistibly across the street an
up the carpeted stair to the lair of th
dementia-demon.
He looked up at the carefully shade
windows, and a sudden desire to prov
himself came upon him. Not once since th
first hot flashes of the fever had begun tquicken his pulse, had he been able to g
and look on and return scathless. But wa
he not sane now? and was not the barrie
well builded? If it were not—if it stooonly upon the lack of opportunity—
He crossed the street and threaded th
narrow alley, tramping steadily as on
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who goes into battle,—a battle which ma
be postponed, but which may by no mean
be evaded. The swing doors gave bac
under his hand, and a minute later he stoobeside the table with the inlaid cards in it
centre, his hands thrust deep in hi
pockets, and his breath coming in shar
ittle gasps.
It was a perilous moment for any son o
Adam who has been once bitten by the do
of avarice gone mad. The run of luck waagainst the bank, and the piles of counter
under the hands of the haggard one
girdling the table grew and multiplie
with every turn of the cards. Jeffard's lipbegan to twitch, and the pupils of his eye
narrowed to two scintillant points
Slowly, and by almost imperceptibl
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advances, his right hand crept from it
covert, the fingers tightly clenched upo
he small roll of bank-notes,—th
Providential windfall which musprovision any future argosy of endeavor.
The dealer ran the cards wit
monotonous precision, his hands movinike the pieces of a nicely adjuste
mechanism. Jeffard's fingers unclosed an
he stood staring down at the money in hi
palm as if the sight of it fascinated himThen he turned quickly and tossed i
across to the banker. "Reds and whites,
he said; and the sound of his own voic
arred upon his nerves like the rasping ofiles in a saw-pit.
Two hours later, he was again standing
on the narrow footway in the alley, wit
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he swing doors winging to rest behin
him. Two hours of frenzied excitement in
he dubious battle with chance, and th
day of penitence and its hopeful promisfor the future were as if they had not been
Halfway across the street he turned an
flung his clenched fist up at the shade
windows, but his tongue clave to his teetand the curse turned to a groan with a so
at the end of it. And as he went his way
sodden with weariness, the words of
ong-forgotten allegory were ringin
knell-like in his ears:—
"When the unclean spirit is gone out o
a man, he walketh in dry places seekinrest, and findeth none. Then he saith, I wil
return into my house from whence I cam
out; and when he is come, he findeth i
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empty and swept and garnished. The
goeth he and taketh with him seven othe
spirits more wicked than himself, and the
enter in and dwell there; and the last statof that man is worse than the first."
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CHAPTER V
It was on the day following the dancin
party at the Calmaines' that Constanc
Elliott arrayed herself in a modest stree
dress, and ran down to the library wher
Miss Van Vetter was writing letters.
"You'd better change your mind, Myra
and come along with me. It'll do you goo
o see how the other half lives," she sai
coaxingly.
Miss Van Vetter calmly finished hersentence before she replied.
"Thank you, Connie; but I believe not.
know it is the proper fad nowadays to g
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slumming, but I can't do it; it's a matter o
principle with me."
Connie's eyebrows arched in milsurprise. "That's a new one," sh
commented. "I've heard all kinds o
excuses, but never that. How do yo
diagram it?"
"It is simple enough. One sees plenty o
misery in the ordinary course of thing
without making a specialty of looking fot; and when you've done everything tha
your money and sympathy can do, it i
only a single drop in the great ocean o
human wretchedness, after all. More thahat, you have added to the sum total of th
world's suffering by just so much as th
miseries of the others hurt you throug
your compassion."
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"Myra, dear, if I didn't know that you
are better than your theories, I should tr
o humble you. What will you do if th
evil day ever comes to you?"
"Unload my woes upon some suc
angelic and charitable sister of mercy a
you are, I suppose," rejoined Miss VanVetter complacently. "But that doesn'
make it necessary for me to go about an
shed literal tears with those who weep
now. I prefer to do it by proxy." She tooka gold piece from her purse and offered i
o Constance. "Take this, and make some
poor wretch comfortable for ten or fiftee
minutes on my account."
Miss Elliott was not yet canonized, an
she refused the contribution with a
ndignant little stamp of her foot. "Myr
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Van Vetter, you're worse than a heathen! I
wouldn't touch your money with the tip o
my finger; I'd be afraid it would burn me.
hope you'll learn for yourself some dawhat the cold shoulder of charity is—
here!" And she swept out of the roo
with as much dignity as five-feet-one-and
a-half may compass upon extraordinaroccasions.
Once on the other side of the librar
door, she laughed softly to herself andwas instantly Connie the serene again.
"It does me a whole lot of good to boi
over once in a while," she said, going ouon the veranda. "Myra serves on
beneficent end in the cosmogony in spit
of herself: she's a perfect safety-valve fo
me. Tommie-e-e-e! O Tom! Are you ou
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here?"
A ragged boy, sitting on the curb and
shaking dice with a pair of pebblessprang up and ran to the gate. When th
atch baffled him, as it usually did fro
he outside, he vaulted the fence and stoo
before her.
"Prompt as usual, aren't you, Tommie?
"Ain't got nothin' else to do but to b
promp'. Is it a baskit, dis time, 'r wot?"
"It's a basket, and you'll find it in th
kitchen."
Five minutes later the dwellers in th
avenue might have seen a smal
procession headed townwards. It
component parts were a dainty little lady
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walking very straight with her hands in th
pockets of her jacket, and a ragged urchi
bent sidewise against the weight of
capacious basket.
The street-car line was convenient, bu
Constance walked in deference t
Tommie's convictions,—he objected tohe car on the score of economy. "Wot's
he use o' givin' a bloated corp'ration
nickel w'en a feller can mog along on hi
feets?" he had demanded, one day; anhereafter they walked.
What profits it to set down in measure
phrase at what numbers in what streets thbasket cover was lifted that afternoon
Doubtless, in that great day when th
books shall be opened, it will be foun
hat a faithful record has been kept, no
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only of the tumbler of jelly left wit
bedridden Mother M'Garrihan, the bottl
of wine put into the hands of gaunt Tom
Devins, who was slowly dying of leadpoisoning, and the more substantial viand
spread out before the hungry children i
drunken Owen David's shanty, but of al
he other deeds of mercy that left a trail ohankful benisons in the wake of the smal
procession. Be it sufficient to say that th
round was a long one, and that Constanc
spared neither herself nor her father'
bank-account where she found misery wit
uplifted hands.
The basket had grown appreciablighter, and Tommie's body was once
more approaching the perpendicular
when the procession paused before a
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unswept stairway leading to the secon
story of a building fronting on one of th
ower cross streets. Constance held ou
her hand for the basket, but the boy put ibehind him.
"Wot's the matter with me?" he
demanded.
"Nothing at all, Tommie. I only mean
o save you a climb. The basket isn't heav
now, you know."
"S'posin' it ain't; ain't I hired to run thi
end o' the show? You jes' tell me where
you want it put, an' that's right where I'
goin' to put it, an' not nowheres else."
She smiled and let him lead the way up
he dusty stair. At a certain door near the
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end of the long upper corridor she signe
o him to give her the basket. "Go to th
head of the stairs and wait," sh
whispered. "I may want you."
When he was out of hearing she tappe
on the door and went in. It was the interio
of all others that made Constance want tcry. There was a sufficiency of garish
furniture and tawdry knickknacks scattere
about to show that it was not the dwelling
place of the desperately poor; but theswere only the accessories to the picture o
desolation and utter neglect having for it
central figure the woman stretched ou
upon the bed. She was asleep, and heface was turned toward the light whic
struggled feebly through the unwashe
window. Beauty there had been, and migh
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be again, but not even the flush of healt
would efface the marks of Margare
Gannon's latest plunge into the chillin
depths of human indifference. Conniiptoed to the bedside and looked, and he
heart swelled within her.
It had fallen out in this wise. On thMonday night Mademoiselle Angeline—
known to her intimates as Mag Gannon—
saw fuzzy little circles expand an
contract around the gas-jets in the BijoTheatre while she was walking throug
her part in the farce. Tuesday night th
fuzzy circles became blurs; and the stag
manager swore audibly when she faltereand missed the step in her specialty. O
he Wednesday Mademoiselle Angeline
disappeared from the Bijou altogether
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and for three days she had lain helples
and suffering, seeing no human face unti
Constance came and ministered to her
And the pity of it was that while the fevewrought its torturous will upon her
delirium would not come to help her t
forget that she was forgotten.
Constance had pieced out the pitifu
story by fragments while she was draggin
he woman back from the brink of the pi
and when all was said, she began tunderstand that a sick soul demands othe
remedies than drugs and dainties. Jus
what they were, or how they were to b
applied, was another matter; buConstance grappled with the problem a
ardently as if no one had ever befor
attacked it. In her later visits she alway
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brought the conversation around t
Margaret's future; and on the afternoon o
he basket-procession, after she had mad
her patient eat and drink, she essayed oncagain to enlist the woman's will in he
own behalf.
"It's no use of me trying, MisConstance; I've got to go back when I'
fit. There ain't nothing else for the likes o
me to do."
"How can you tell till you try? O
Margaret, I wish you would try!"
A smile of hard-earned wisdom flitted
across the face of the woman. "You know
more than most of 'em," she said, "but yo
don't know it all. You can't, you see
you're so good the world puts on it
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gloves before it touches you. But for th
ikes of me, we get the bare hand, an
we're playing in luck if it ain't made into
fist."
"You poor girl! It makes my heart ache
o think what you must have gone throug
before you could learn to say a thing likhat. But you must try; I can't let you g
back to that awful place after what you'v
old me about it."
"Supposing I did try; there's only th
one thing on earth I know how to do,—
hat's trim hats. Suppose you run you
pretty feet off till you found me a placwhere I could work right. How lon
would it be before somebody would go t
he missis, or the boss, or whoever i
might be, and say, 'See here; you've go
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one of Pete Grim's Bijou women in there
That won't do.' And the night after, I'd be
doing my specialty again, if I was tha
ucky to get on."
"But you could learn to do housework
or something of that kind, so you coul
keep out of the way of people who woulremember you. You must have had some
experience."
The invalid rocked her head on thpillow. "That'd be worse than the other
Somebody'd be dead sure to find out an
ell; and then I'd be lucky if I got of
without going to jail. And for thexperience,—a minute ago you called m
a girl, but I know you didn't mean it. How
old do you think I am?"
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Constance looked at the fever-burne
face, and tried to make allowances for th
ravages of disease. "I should say twenty
five," she replied, "only you talk as if yomight be older."
"I'll be eighteen next June, if I'd happe
o live that long," said Margaret; anConstance went home a few minutes late
with a new pain in her heart, born of th
simple statement.
At the gate she took the empty baske
and paid the boy. "That's all for to-day
but I want to give you some more work,
she said. "Every morning, and every noonand every night, until I tell you to stop,
want you to go up to that last place an
ask Margaret Gannon if there is anythin
you can do for her. And if she says yes
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you do it; and if it's too big for you to do
you come right up here after me. Will you
do all that?"
"Will I? Will a yaller dorg eat hi
supper w'en he's hungry? You're jes' dead
right I'll do it. An' I'll be yere to-morre
afternoon, promp'."
All of which was well enough in it
way, but the problem was yet unsolved
and Constance had to draw heavily on hereserves of cheerfulness to be able t
make an accordant one of four whe
Richard Bartrow called that evening afte
dinner.
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CHAPTER VI
During the week following the day o
repentance and backsliding, Jeffard'
regression down the inclined plan
became an accelerated rush. In tha
nterval he parted with his watch and hi
surveying instruments, and made
beginning on his surplus clothing. It was measure of the velocity of the descent tha
he watch, with the transit and leve
brought him no more than seven knife-and
fork meals and an occasional luncheonBut the clothing being transmutable i
smaller installments, did rather better.
Before the week was out, a bachelor'
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apartment in a respectable localit
became an incongruous superfluity; an
having by no means reached th
philosophical level in his descent, he hihimself from all comers in a dubiou
neighborhood below Larimer Street.
The second week brought sharpemisery than the first, since it enforced th
pitiful shifts of vagrancy before he coul
acquire the spirit-breaking experienc
which makes them tolerable. But beformany days the poor remnants of pride an
self-respect gave up the unequal struggle
eaving him to his own devices; afte
which he soon learned how to keep aopen and unbalanced meal-and-ciga
account with his few unmercenary friends
In a short time, however, the friendly
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ables began to grow scarce. Bartrow
went back to his mine, and with his goin
he doors of the St. James's dining-roo
opened no more to the proletary. Thecame the return of John Pettigrew, whos
hospitality was as boundless as the rang
whereon his herds grazed, and wh
claimed kinship with Jeffard because botchanced to be transplanted New
Englanders. While Pettigrew stayed i
Denver, Jeffard lived on the fat of th
and, eating at his friend's table at th
Albany, and gambling with the ranchman'
money at odd hours of the day and nigh
But after Pettigrew left there was anotheean interval, and Jeffard grew haggar
and ran his weight down at the rate of
pound a day.
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In the midst of this came a spasm of th
reformative sort, born of a passin
glimpse of Stephen Elliott's daughter o
one of her charitable expeditions. Thncident brought him face to face with
fact which had been unconsciously lendin
desperation to despair. Now that th
discovery could be no more than an addewist of the thumbscrew, he began to
realize that he had found in the person o
he sweet-faced young woman with th
far-seeing eyes the Heaven-born alchemis
who could, if she so willed, transmute th
flinty perverseness of him into plasti
wax, shaping it after her own ideals; that iwas the unacknowledged beginning o
ove which had found wings for the short
ived flight of higher hopes and mor
worthy aspirations. The day of fasting an
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penitence had set his feet in the wa
eading to reinstatement in his own goo
opinion; but the meeting with Constanc
was answerable for a worthier prompting—a perfervid determination to fight hi
way back to better things fo
righteousness' sake, knowing that n
otherwise could he hope to stand with heon the Mount of Benediction.
It was against this anointing of grac
hat he had sinned; and it was iremorseful memory of it that he brushe
his clothes, put on an ill-fitting air o
respectability, and tramped the streets in
fruitless search for employment until hwas ready to drop from fatigue an
hunger. Nothing came of it. The grea
public, and notably the employin
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minority of it, is no mean physiognomis
and the gambler carries his hall-mark n
ess than the profligate or the drunkard.
At the close of one of these days o
disheartenment, a day wherein a singl
cup of coffee had been made to stan
sponsor for breakfast, luncheon, andinner, Jeffard saw a familiar figur
standing at the counter in one of th
newspaper offices. Knowing his man
Jeffard stopped on the sidewalk anwaited. If Lansdale had but the price of
single meal in his pocket, two men woul
share that meal that night.
There were two entrances to th
newspaper office, and Jeffard watche
beaglewise lest his chance of breaking hi
fast should vanish while he tarried
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Presently Lansdale came out, and Jeffar
fell upon him before he could latch th
door.
"Salaam! Jeffard, my son," said th
outcomer. "I saw you waiting for me. How
goes the world-old struggle fo
existence?"
"Don't remind me of it, Lansdale; d
you happen to have the price of a mea
about you?"
Lansdale smiled, and gravely tuckin
Jeffard's arm under his own, steere
diagonally across the street toward th
open doors of a café.
"Now that is what our forefather
called Providence, and what we, being s
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much wiser in our own generation, cal
uck," he declared. "I had just got a chec
out of the post-office for a bit of work sen
months ago to an editor whose name iunhasting. When you saw me I was closin
a negotiation, by the terms of which th
cashier of the 'Coloradoan' becomes m
banker. Behold, now, the mysteries of—shall we say Providence? At any tim
within the six months I would have swor
hat the opportune moment for the arriva
of this bit of money-paper had come
nevertheless Providence, and the slow
geared editor, get it here just in time to
save two men from going to besupperless. Why don't you sa
something?"
They were at the door of the café, an
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Jeffard gripped his companion's arm an
hrust him in. "Can't you see that I'm to
damned hungry to talk?" he demande
savagely; and Lansdale wisely held hipeace until the barbarian in his guest ha
been appeased.
When the soup and fish hadisappeared, Jeffard was ashamed o
himself, and said as much.
"You mustn't mind what I said," hebegan, by way of making amends. "I use
o think I was a civilized being, but, Go
help me, Lansdale, I'm not! When I'v
gone without food for twenty-four houron end, I'm nothing more or less than
hungry savage."
Lansdale smiled intelligence. "I know
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he taste of it, and it's bad medicine—fo
he soul as well as for the body," h
rejoined. "There is reason to suspect tha
Shakespeare never went hungry, else hwouldn't have said, 'Sweet are the uses o
adversity.' They're not sweet; they'r
damnably bitter. A man may come forth o
he winepress with bones unbroken annsight sharpened to the puncturing poin
but his capacity for evil will be increase
n just proportion."
"I don't want to believe that," sai
Jeffard, whose despair was not yet proo
against a good meal in good company.
"You needn't, but it's true. The
necessities breed a certain familiarit
with evil. Moral metes and bounds have
rick of disappearing in the day o
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physical dearth. When hunger has driven
man over the ethical boundary a few
imes, the crossing becomes easy; an
when hunger drops the whip, inclination ivery likely to take it up."
Jeffard laughed. "'The words of Agu
he son of Jakeh,'" he quoted. "I believyou'd moralize if you were going to b
hanged, Lansdale."
"Perhaps I should. What possiblcontingency could offer bette
opportunities? And am I not going to b
hanged—or choked, which amounts to th
same thing?"
Jeffard looked up quickly and saw
what the myopia of hunger had hithert
obscured: that his companion's smooth
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shaven face seemed gaunter than usua
and that his hands were unsteady when h
ifted the knife and fork.
"Colorado isn't helping you, then," h
said.
"No; but it isn't altogether Colorado'
fault. The Boston medicine man sai
change of climate, plenty of outdoo
ndolence, nutritious food at state
ntervals. I have all any one could ask ohe first, and as little of either of the other
as may be."
"But you do good work, Lansdale. I'v
always believed you could make it win, i
ime. Hasn't the time come yet?"
"No. What I can do easiest would brin
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bread and meat, if I could sell it; but
iterary hack-writer has no business i
Colorado—or anywhere else outside o
he literary centres. In Boston I coulalways find an odd job of reviewing, o
space-writing, or something that woul
serve to keep body and soul together; bu
here they won't have me even in thnewspapers."
"Overcrowded, I suppose, lik
everything else in this cursed country."
"That's the alleged reason; but the fac
s that I'm not a journalist. You
horoughbred newspaper man has more oess contempt for a fellow who can't o
won't write journalese."
They had attained to the dessert, an
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he waiter was opening a modest bottle o
claret for them. Jeffard turned hi
wineglass down.
"What! Is that the way you flout a man'
hospitality?" demanded Lansdale, in moc
displeasure.
"No; I don't mean to do that. But I'
drunken with feasting now, and if I pu
wine into me I shall pawn the coat off m
back before midnight for a stake to plawith."
Lansdale smiled. "I'll see that you don
have to. Turn up your glass."
But Jeffard was obstinate, and sa
munching raisins while Lansdale sippe
his wine. When the waiter brought th
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cigars he came out of his reverie to say
"You want to live, don't you, Lansdale?"
The potential man of letters took timo think about it. "I suppose I do; else
shouldn't be starving to death in Denver,
he admitted finally.
"And there is nothing but the lack of
ittle ready money that keeps you fro
giving the Boston doctor's prescription
fair trial. If I had the money I believe I'change places with you; that is, I'd giv
you the money in exchange for your goo
chance of being able to shuffle of
mortality without the help of extraneoumeans. I think I've had enough of it."
"Do you? That proves how little a ma
has learned when he thinks he has arrived
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ow pull yourself together, and tell m
what you really would do if you becam
suddenly rich."
"How rich?"
"Oh, make it a comfortable figure; sa
eight or ten thousand a month for a
ncome."
"I'd do what I said I should,—chang
places with you; only I suppose tha
wouldn't be possible. Failing that"—H
pondered over it for a moment, balancin
his fork on the edge of his plate the while
"A few weeks ago I should have mapped
out a future worth talking about. I had
ucid day, in which the things that mak
for ambition of the better sort had thei
nning. If you had asked me such
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question then, I should doubtless have tol
you that I should try to realize the ideals o
other days; to walk uprightly, and to hold
great wealth as it should be held—in trusfor the good of one's kind; to win the lov
of the ideal woman, perhaps; and, havin
won it, to sit at her feet until I had learne
how to be God's almoner."
Lansdale's smile was not wholl
cynical. "But now?" he queried.
"But now I know my own limitations.
hink I should go back to the old farm i
he Berkshire Hills, and try to make it ear
me bread and meat."
"But you couldn't spend ten thousand
month on an abandoned farm, though
grant you it would be a pretty expensiv
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uxury. What would you do with the lav
of it?"
Jeffard's lips tightened, and his facwas not pleasant to look upon. "I'd let i
go on accumulating, piling up and up til
here was no shadow of possibility that
should ever again come to know what imeans to be without money. And even then
should know I could never get enough,
he added.
This time Lansdale's smile was o
ncredulity. "Let me prophesy," he
suggested. "When your lucky da
overtakes you, you will do none of theshings. Jeffard the fool may be heard o
wherever the Associated Press has a wir
or a correspondent; but Jeffard the mise
will never exist outside of your ow
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unbalanced imagination. Let's go out an
walk. It's fervidly close in here."
Arm in arm they paced the streets untinearly midnight, talking of things practica
and impracticable, and keeping well ou
of the present in either the past or th
future. When Lansdale said good-night, hstuffed a bank-note into Jeffard's pocket.
"It's only a loan," he protested, whe
Jeffard would have made him take it back"And there are no conditions. You can go
and play with it, if that's what you'd rathe
do."
The suggestion was unfortunate, thoug
possibly the result would have been th
same in any event. Five minutes afte
parting from Lansdale, Jeffard had take
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his place in the silent group around th
able in the upper room; and by the tim
he pile of counters under his hand ha
ncreased to double the amount oLansdale's gift, he was oblivious t
everything save the one potent fact—tha
after so many reverses his luck had turne
at last.
Five hundred and odd dollars he had a
one time in that eventful sitting, and hi
neighbor across the corner of the table, grizzled miner with the jaw of a pugilis
and eyes that had a trick of softening like
woman's, had warned him by winks, nods
and sundry kicks under the table to stopJeffard scowled his resentment of th
nterference and played on, losing steadil
until his capital had shrunk to fifty dollars
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Then the miner rose up in his place
reached across, and gave Jeffard an open
handed buffet that nearly knocked him ou
of his chair.
"Dad blame you!" he roared; "I'll lear
you how to spile my play! Stan' up an
fight it out like a man!"
The game stopped at once. The deale
held his hand, and the banker reached fo
his revolver.
"You two gen'lemen cash in and get ou
o' here," he commanded. "This is
gen'leman's game, and we don't run n
shootin'-gallery—leastwise, not unless
have to take a hand in it. Pass in you
chips."
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They both obeyed; the miner wit
maledictory reluctance, and Jeffard in
remulous frenzy of wrath. When the
reached the sidewalk, Jeffard flunhimself savagely upon his assailant, onl
o learn that abstinence is a poor trainer
and that he was little better than a lay
figure in the grasp of the square-jaweone with the melting eyes. The big ma
hrust him into a corner and held him ther
until he listened to reason.
"You blamed idjit! you hain't got sense
enough to go in when it rains! Hold still,
'll bump your head ag'inst the wall! As
was sayin', you don't know enough tpound sand. Every single time I've been i
his dive, you've been here, too, a-blowin
yourself like you had a wad as big as
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feather bed, and you know danged wel
you hain't got nothin'. And you wouldn't 'a
kep' a dern cent to-night, if I hadn
humped you and raised a row. Now yogo and hunt you a place to sleep whil
you've got dust enough to pay for it; an
don't you come round here ag'in till you'v
put a whole grub-stake inside of youSavez?"
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CHAPTER VII
From the beginning of the cannibalisti
stage of the journey down the incline
plane, Jeffard had determined that, com
what might, he would keep enough of hi
wardrobe to enable him to present a
outward appearance of respectability
With a vague premonition of the nomprobable end of the journey he recoile
at the thought of figuring before
coroner's jury as a common vagrant.
This resolution, however, like al
others of a prideful nature, went dow
before the renewed assaults of the allies
hunger and dementia. Whereby it speedil
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came to pass that he retained only th
garments he stood in, and these soo
became shabby and wayworn. Since, i
his own estimation, if not in that of othershe clothes do make the man to a ver
considerable extent, Jeffard graduall
withdrew from his former lounging
places, confining himself to the lescritical region below Larimer Stree
during the day, and avoiding as much a
possible the haunts of his forme
associates at all hours.
It was for this cause that Bartrow, o
his return from Chaffee County, wa
unable to find Jeffard. Meeting Lansdalwhen the search had become unhopefu
he large-hearted man of the altitude
amented his failure after his own peculia
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fashion.
"When was it you saw him last?" h
nquired of the transplanted Bostonian."It was about a week ago. To be exact
t was a week Tuesday. I remembe
because we dined together that evening."
"Now doesn't that beat the band? Her
've gone and got him a soft snap up on th
range—good pay, and little or nothing to
do—and he's got to go and drop out like
monte man's little joker. It's enough to
make a man swear continuous!"
"I don't think he would have gone wityou," Lansdale ventured.
"Wouldn't, eh? If I can find him I'll take
him by the neck and make him go; savez
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How do you put it up? Runaway? or a pil
of bones out on the prairie somewhere?"
"It's hard to say. Jeffard's a queecombination of good and not so good,—
ike a few others of us,—and just now th
negative part is on top. He was pretty low
he night we were together, though whewe separated I thought he was takin
himself a little less seriously."
"Didn't talk about getting the drop ohimself, or anything like that?"
"N—no, not in a way to leave th
mpression that he was in any immediat
danger of doing such a thing."
Bartrow chewed the end of his ciga
reflectively. "Hasn't taken to quizzing th
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world through the bottom of a whiskey
glass?"
"No, I should say not. Thus far, I thinkhe has but the one devil."
"And that's the 'tiger,' of course. I knew
about that; I've known it all along. Th
Lord forgive me! I don't know but I wa
he ring-master in that show. You know
we chased around a good deal together
along at the first, and it's as likely as not showed him a whole lot of things he'
better not have seen."
The half-cynical smile lightened upo
Lansdale's grave face. "That is one of m
criticisms of Western manners," he
commented. "When you get hold of
stranger, you welcome him with ope
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arms—and proceed to regale him with
near-hand view of the back yards an
cesspools. And then you swear piteousl
when he goes back East and tells hifriends what an abandoned lot you are."
Bartrow took the thrust good-naturedly
as he did most of his chastenings. "That'right; that's just about what we do. Bu
you've been here long enough now t
know that it's meant for hospitality. It's
way we've got into of taking it for grantehat people come out here more to see th
sights than for any other purpose."
"Oh, it's good of you—I don't deny thatonly it's a little rough on the new-comer
sometimes. Take Jeffard's case, fo
example. He came to Denver with goo
ntroductions; I know, for I saw some o
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hem. But a man in a strange city doesn
often go about presenting his socia
credentials. What he does is to make
few haphazard acquaintances, and let theset the pace for him. That is what Jeffar
did, and I'll venture to say there have bee
nine evil doors open to him to one goo
one. You've known him longer than anyone else—how many times have yo
nvited him to spend a rational evenin
with you in the company of respectabl
people?"
"Good Lord, Lansdale; for Heaven'
sake don't begin to open up that lead
We're all miserable sinners, and I'm themedicine-man of the tribe. I never aske
he poor devil to go visiting with me bu
once, and that was after he was down."
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"And then he wouldn't go, as a matte
of course. But that is neither here no
here. I'll find him for you, if I can, an
eave word for you at the St. James."
"You're a brick, Lansdale; that's abou
what you are. I'll get square with yo
some day. By the way, can't you come upo Steve Elliott's with me this evening an
meet some good people?"
Lansdale laughed outright. "You're agood fellow, Bartrow, but you're no
diplomat. When I go a-fishing into you
mentality you'll never see the hook. Mak
my apologies to your friends, and tell the'm an invalid."
And Bartrow, being densely practical
and so proof against irony of whatsoeve
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calibre, actually did so that evening whe
he called upon Miss Elliott and he
cousin.
"But your friend wasn't promised to us
Mr. Bartrow," objected Miss Van Vetter.
"Why should he send excuses?"
"I'm blessed if I know," said hones
Dick, looking innocently from one to th
other of them. "But that's what he told m
o do, and I've done it."
Constance laughed softly. "You're too
good for any use, Dick. He was makin
game of you. Tell us how he came to say
t."
Bartrow did that, also; and the tw
young women laughed in chorus.
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"After you've had your fun out of it
wish you'd tell me, so I can laugh too," h
said. "I can't see where the joke comes in
myself."
Constance enlightened him. "There isn
any joke—only this: he had just bee
scolding you about your inhospitality, andhen you turn on him and ask him to g
calling with you. Of course, he couldn
accept, then; it would have been lik
nviting himself."
"Well, what of it? I don't see why he
shouldn't invite himself, if he felt like it
He's a rattling good fellow." And fromhence the talk drifted easily to Jeffard
who was, or who had been, another goo
fellow.
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At the mention of Jeffard's name
Constance borrowed the mask o
disinterest, and laid her commands o
Bartrow. "Tell us about him," she said.
"There isn't much to tell. He came her
from somewhere back East, got into ba
company, lost his money, and now he'disappeared."
"How did he lose his money?
Constance would have asked the questionbut her cousin forestalled her.
"Gambled it," quoth Bartrow placidly.
Constance looked sorry, and Miss VanVetter was plainly shocked. "How very
dreadful!" said the latter. "Did he los
much?"
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"Oh, no; you couldn't call it much—
only a few thousands, I believe. But then
you see, it was his stake; it was all he had
and he couldn't afford to give it up. Andnow he has gone and hid out somewher
ust when I have found a place for him. I
makes me very weary."
"Can't you find any trace of him?
queried Constance. "That is singular.
should think he would have left hi
address."
Bartrow grinned. "Well, hardly. Man
don't leave his address when he wants t
drop out. That's the one thing he's prettsure to take with him. But we'll run hi
down yet, if he's on top of earth. Lansdal
has seen more of him lately than I have
and he is taking a hand. He and Jeffar
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used to flock together a good deal whe
he shoe was on the other foot."
Miss Van Vetter looked mystified; andBartrow deemed it a matter for self
congratulation that he was able t
comprehend the query in her eyes withou
having it hurled at him in so many words.
"That was while Jeffard had money
and Lansdale was trying to starve himsel
o death," he explained. "You seeLansdale is a queer fish in some ways
When he's down he won't let anybod
ouch him on his money side, so we use
o work all kinds of schemes to keep higoing. Jeffard would study them up, an
'd help him steer them."
This was practical benevolence, an
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Connie's interest bestirred itself in it
charitable part. "What were some of th
schemes?" she asked.
"Oh, there were a lot of them. Lansdal
can see farther into a millstone than mos
people, and we had to invent new ones a
we went along. One time, Jeffard bought common, every-day sort of a pocketbook
and rumpled it up and tramped on it till i
ooked as if it might have come across th
plains in Fifty-nine. Then he put a twentydollar bill and some loose silver in it, an
dropped it on the sidewalk where I wa
walking Lansdale up and down for hi
health. After a while, when he'd actuallstumbled over it four or five times
Lansdale saw the wallet and picked it up
Right there the scheme nearly fell down
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You see, he was going to make me take
charge of it while he advertised it. I go
out of it, somehow, but I don't believe h
used a nickel of the money for a month."
Connie clapped her hands softly. "Tha
was fine! Tell us some more."
"The next one was better, and i
worked like a charm. Lansdale write
hings for the papers, only the editors her
wouldn't buy any of his work"—
"Why not?" interrupted Miss Van
Vetter.
"I don't know; because it was too goodguess. Anyway, they wouldn't buy it, so
Jeffard went to work on that lead. I too
him around and introduced him t
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Kershaw of the 'Coloradoan,' and he mad
Kershaw take fifty dollars on deposit, an
got him to promise to accept some o
Lansdale's stories. Kershaw kicked likhe deu—like the mischief, and didn't wan
o do it; but we bullied him, and then I go
Lansdale to send him some stuff."
"Mr. Jeffard is an artist in schemes
and I envy him," said Connie. "Wha
happened to that one?"
"Kershaw upset it by not printing th
stuff. Of course, Lansdale watched th
Coloradoan,' and when he found he wasn
n it, he wouldn't send any more. Wecaught him the next time, though, fo
something worth while."
"How was that?" It was Miss Van
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Vetter who asked the question; and
Bartrow made a strenuous effort to evad
he frontier idiom which stood ready t
rip him at every turn when Myra VanVetter's poiseful gaze rested upon him.
"Why, I happen to have a played-out—
er—that is, a sort of no-account mine up iClear Creek, and I made Lansdale believ
was the resident agent for the property
authorized to get up a descriptiv
prospectus. He took the job of writing iand never once tumbled to the racket—tha
s, he never suspected that we wer
working him for a—oh, good Lord, wh
can't I talk plain English!—you know whamean; he thought it was all straigh
Well, he turned in the copy, and we paid
him as much as he'd stand; but he has jus
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about worried the life out of me eve
since, trying to get to read proof on tha
prospectus. That one was Jeffard's idea
oo, but I made him let me in on thassessment."
Before Miss Van Vetter could inquire
what the "assessment" was, StepheElliott came in and the talk becam
general. An hour later, when Bartrow took
his leave, Constance went to the door wit
him.
"Don't you really know where Mr
Jeffard is, Dick?" she asked.
Something in her tone set him upon th
right track. "No; do you?"
"I know that he left Denver quite
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while ago; about the time you were dow
ast."
"How do you know it?""He told me he was going."
"The mischief he did! Where did yo
get acquainted with him?"
"At Mrs. Calmaine's."
Honest Dick ground his heel into thdoor-mat and thrust his hands deep int
he pockets of his overcoat. What was i
his mind came out shorn of euphemism.
"Say, Connie, do you care anythin
about him?"
"What a question!" she retorted, no
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pretending to misunderstand its pointing
"I've met him only once—or twice,
should say, though I didn't even know hi
name the first time."
"What did he tell you? about his goin
away, I mean."
"He said—but you've no right to as
me, Dick. It wasn't exactly a confidence
but"—
"Yes, I have a right to ask; he was my
friend a good while before he was yours
Tell me what he said."
"He gave me to understand that thinghadn't been going quite right with him, an
he said he was going to the mountains to—
o try to make another start."
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Bartrow tucked Connie's arm under hi
own and walked her up and down the lon
veranda twice before he could brin
himself to say the thing that was.
"He didn't go, Connie; he's here now, i
he hasn't gone out on the prairi
somewhere and taken a pot shot ahimself. Lansdale saw him only a week o
so ago."
"Oh, Dick!"
"It's tough, isn't it?" He stood on th
step and buttoned his coat. "But I'm gla
you know him—or at least, know who h
s. If you should happen to run across hi
n any of your charity trips, just se
Tommie on him and wire me if you find
out where he burrows."
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"You said you had found a place fo
him. Will it keep?"
"I'll try to hold it open for him, and iyou wire, I'll come down and tackle him
He's too good a fellow to turn down in hi
ittle day of witlessness. Good-night; an
good-by—for a week or so. I've got to gback on the morning train."
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CHAPTER VIII
Contrary to the doctor's prophecy
Margaret Gannon's progress towar
recovery was slow and rather uncertain
Constance professed to be sorry, but i
her heart she was thankful, since th
hesitant convalescence gave her time t
ry many expedients pointing toward thmoral rehabilitation of her protégée
gnoring Margaret's bodeful prediction
Constance coursed far and wide
quartering the domestic field diligentlybut inasmuch as she was careful in eac
nstance to state the exact truth, eac
endeavor was but the introduction t
another failure.
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"Why, Constance Elliott! The idea o
your proposing such a thing to me!" sai
Mrs. Calmaine, upon whose motherl
good sense Connie had leaned frochildhood. "That is what comes of a gir
growing up as you have without a mothe
o watch over her. Can't you understand
how dreadful it is for you to mix up isuch things? You can't touch pitch and no
be defiled."
Connie was moved, first to tears, anpresently to indignation.
"No, I can't understand anything of th
kind," she retorted. "It's your privilege noo take Margaret if you don't want her; bu
t's mine to help her, if I can. And I mean
o do it in spite of all the cruel prejudic
n the world!"
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"You talk like a foolish child, Connie.
can tell you beforehand that you won
succeed in getting the woman into an
respectable household in Denver, unlesyou do it under false pretenses."
"So much the worse for ou
Christianity, then," Connie assertedstoutly. "If people won't help, they'll hav
t to answer to One who wasn't afraid t
ake a much worse woman by the hand
That's all I have to say about it."
Mrs. Calmaine smiled benignantly. Sh
had daughters of her own, and knew how
o make allowances for youthfuenthusiasm.
"You will get over it, after a while
and then you'll see how foolish it is to tr
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o reform the world single-handed," sh
rejoined. "You might as well try to move
Pike's Peak as to think you can remode
society after your own enthusiastinotions. And when the reflective after
ime comes, you'll be glad that societ
didn't let you make a martyr of yourself a
ts expense.
"And, Connie, dear; there is anothe
side of the question which you shoul
consider," she continued, going to the doowith her visitor. "It's this: since society a
a unit insists upon having this particula
kind of reformative work turned over t
organizations designed for the purposehere must be a sufficient reason for i
You are not wiser than the aggregated
wisdom of the civilized centuries."
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Constance went her way, silenced, bu
by no means convinced; and she adde
hree more failures to her long list befor
going home to luncheon. In the afternoonshe laid hold of her courage yet onc
again, and went to her minister, good Dr
Launceston, pastor of St. Cyril's-in-the
Desert. Here, indeed, she found sympathwithout stint, but it was hopelessly void o
practical suggestion.
"It is certainly most pitiful, MisElliott, pitiful to a degree; but I reall
don't see what is to be done. Had you an
plan in view that, ah"—
"It is because all my plans have com
o grief that I am here," said Connie.
"Dear, dear! and those cases are so
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very hard to deal with. Now, if it were
question of money, I dare say we could
manage it quite easily."
Constance had some very clear idea
on reformative subjects, and one of the
was that it was not less culpable t
pauperize than to ignore.
"It isn't that," she made haste to say. "
could get money easily enough, bu
Margaret wouldn't take it. If she would, should have small hopes for her."
"No," rejoined the clergyma
reflectively; "you are quite right. It is not
problem to be solved by money. Th
young woman must be given a chance t
win her way back to respectability by he
own efforts. Do I understand that she i
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willing to try if the opportunity shoul
present itself?"
"I'm afraid I can't say that she is—nowithout reservation," Connie admitted
"You see, she knows the cruel side of the
world; and she is quite sure that any effor
she might make would end in defeat andeeper disgrace."
"A very natural apprehension, and on
for which there are only too googrounds," said the clergyman sadly. "We
are compassionate and charitable in th
aggregate, but as individuals I fear we ar
very unmerciful. Had you thought of tryino send her to one of our institutiona
homes in the East? I might possibly b
able to make such representations a
would"—
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Constance shook her head. "Margare
s a Roman Catholic, and I suggested th
House of the Good Shepherd in one of ou
earlier talks. She fought the idedesperately, and I don't know that I blam
her. She is just a woman like othe
women, and I believe she would gladl
undertake an honest woman's work in thworld; but that isn't saying she'd b
willing to become a lay-sister."
"No, I suppose not; I quite agree wityou. But what else can you do for her?"
"I don't know, Doctor Launceston,—
oh, I don't know! But I'll never give up til've done something."
In the momentary afflatus of which fin
determination Constance went her wa
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again, not wholly comfortless this time
but apparently quite as far from th
solution of the problem as when she ha
atched Mrs. Calmaine's gate behind her.
As for the clergyman, the preciou
fervor of the young enthusiast left a spar
n his heart which burst into flame on thfollowing Sunday morning, when h
preached a stirring sermon from the tex
"Who is my neighbor?" to the decorou
and well-fed congregation of St. Cyril'sn-the-Desert.
Leaving the rectory, Constanc
postponed the quest for that afternoon anwent to pay her daily visit to Margaret. O
he way downtown a happy thought cam
o her, and she welcomed it as a
nspiration, setting it to work as soon a
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she had put the convalescent's room i
order.
"You are feeling better to-day, aren'you, Margaret?" she began.
"Yes. I'm thinking I'll be able to go to
work again before long; only Pete Gri
mightn't have no use for me."
Constance brought the hair-brush, an
etting Margaret's luxuriant hair fall i
heavy masses over the back of the chair
began another of her ministries of service
"Do you really want to go back to th
Bijou?" she asked, knowing well enougwhat the answer would be.
"You know you needn't to ask that; it'
ust Pete Grim's place or somethin
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worse. I can't do no different"—sh
paused and the fingers of her claspe
hands worked nervously—"and you can
help it, Miss Constance. I know you'vbeen trying and worrying; but it ain't n
use."
Connie did not find words to reply aonce, but after a little she said: "Tell me
more about your old home, Margaret."
"I've told you all there was to telmany's the time since you found me wit
he fever."
"Let me see if I can remember it. You
said your father was the villag
blacksmith, and that you used to sit in th
shop and watch the sparks fly from th
anvil as he worked. And when his day'
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work was done, he would take you on hi
shoulder and carry you home to you
mother, who called you her pretty colleen
and loved you because you were the onlgirl. And then"—
"Oh, don't !" There was sharp anguis
n the cry, and Margaret covered her eyewith her hands as if to shut out the picture
Constance waited until she thought she ha
given the seed time to germinate. Then sh
went on.
"And when you left home they mourne
for you, not as one dead, but as one livin
and still beloved; and as long as thecould keep track of you they begged you t
come back to them. Margaret, won't yo
go?"
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Margaret shook her head in passionat
negation. "I can't— I can't! that's the on
hing I can't do! Didn't I bring them sham
enough and misery enough in the one dayand will I be going back to stir it all up
again? having the people say, 'There's Pa
Gannon's girl come back; she that went t
he bad and broke her mother's heartndeed, I'll not do that, Miss Constance
hough the saints and the holy angels'll tel
you I'd do anything else you'd ask."
This was Connie's happy thought; t
nduce Margaret to go back to her parents
When it proved to be but another rope o
sand, she allowed it one sigh and changefront so cheerfully that Margaret neve
knew the cost of the effort.
"Then we must try something else," sh
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nsisted. "I'll never let you go back to th
heatre—that's settled. You told me once
you could trim hats. Have you ever don
any other kind of sewing?"
Margaret knelt before her trunk an
hrew out an armful of her stage finery. "
made them," she said.
Constance examined the wor
critically. It was good, and she too
courage. "That is our way out of throuble, Margaret. Why didn't we think o
t before? When you are well enough, I'l
get you a sewing-machine and find you al
he work you can do."
Margaret went to the window an
stood there so long that Constance bega
o tremble lest the battle were goin
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evilward at the last moment. The fear wa
groundless, as she found out when the gir
came back to kneel and cry silently wit
her face in Connie's lap.
"It isn't so much the love of you," sh
sobbed; "it's the knowing that somebod
cares whether the likes of me goes straigho the devil or not. And never so much a
a word about behaving myself, o
confessing to the priest, or anything. Mis
Constance,"—this with uplifted facegrown suddenly beautiful and glorified i
he outshining of penitence,—"the devi
may fly away with me,—he did that sam
one day,—but if he does, I'll not live toeave him have the good of it. I promis
you that."
"I can trust you," said Constance; an
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she took her leave presently, wonderin
how the many-sided world could so unif
tself in its merciless condemnation of th
Magdalenes.
When she had closed Margaret's doo
behind her and was halfway to the stair
she heard sounds as of a scuffle cominfrom a corridor intersecting the mai
hallway at the landing. Her first impuls
was to retreat to Margaret Gannon's room
but when she recognized Tommie's voiceuplifted in alternate plea and imprecation
she went forward quickly. At the turn she
met a gaunt, unshaven man leadin
Tommie by the ear, and her indignationslipped the leash without a thought o
consequences.
"Aren't you ashamed of yourself t
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abuse a child like that!" she began; an
hen two things happened: Jeffard release
he boy, and Constance recognized in th
gaunt figure the wreck of the man whoshe had bidden God-speed on the stair a
he Calmaine dancing party.
Jeffard flattened himself against thwall, bowed low, and was about to
apologize, when Tommie, scenting an
accusation, proceeded to vindicat
himself by exploding a veritable bomb oconsternation between the two.
"I warn't doin' ary single thing, Mis
Constance, 'ceptin' jest wot you telled mo do. I caught on to his nibs down on d
street an' follered him up yere; an' w'en
was takin' a squint t'rough de keyhole, jes
o make sure, he outs an' nabs me."
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For one dreadful instant Connie though
she must scream and run away. Then he
wits came back, and she saw tha
deliverance could come only through swifconfession.
"Tommie," she said hastily, "run down
and wait for me on the sidewalk." Andhen to Jeffard: "The poor boy wasn't t
blame; he was doing just what he had bee
old to do, and you have a right to ask—t
—to know"—She stopped in pitiablembarrassment, and Jeffard flung himsel
nto the breach with chivalric tact.
"Not another word, Miss Elliott, mplore you. It isn't the first time I hav
been taken for my double, and in broa
daylight at that. May I go down and mak
my peace with the boy?"
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Constance was too greatly perturbe
not to catch gratefully at the chance t
escape, and she made use of it whil
Jeffard was talking to Tommie at the fooof the stair. Taking Constance's nod and
smile in passing as tokens of amity, th
urchin allowed himself to be placated; an
when Jeffard went back to his room hknew all that Tommie could tell him abou
Miss Elliott and her deeds of mercy.
That night, before he went out to tramhimself weary, Jeffard did a characteristi
hing. He wrapped his last five-dollar not
around a bit of plaster dug from the wal
and creeping through the corridor in histocking feet, tossed the pellet over th
ransom into Margaret Gannon's room.
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CHAPTER IX
At the breakfast-table the next morning
Constance had a shock that set her nerve
a-jangle and banished her appetite. Th
exciting cause was a paragraph in th
morning "Coloradoan" which her fathe
had been reading between the fruit and th
cereals.
"I wonder if that isn't the fellow Dic
was looking for and couldn't find," h
queried, passing the paper across the tabl
with his finger on the suggestiv
paragraph.
It was a custom-hardened account of
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commonplace tragedy. A man whose name
was given as George Jeffrey had sho
himself an hour before midnight on one o
he bridges spanning Cherry CreekConstance read the story of the traged
with her father's remark in abeyance, an
he shock came with the conviction that th
self-slain one was Jeffard, whose nammight easily become Jeffrey in the hurrie
notes of a news-gatherer. The meagr
particulars tallied accurately wit
Bartrow's terse account of Jeffard'
sociological experiment. The suicide wa
a late-comer from the farther East; he ha
spent his money in riotous living; and hhad latterly been lost to those who knew
him best.
It was characteristic of Stephe
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Elliott's daughter that she passed the pape
back to her father without comment, an
hat she preserved an outward presentmen
of cheerfulness during the remainder of thmeal. But when she was free she ran up t
her room and was seen no more of he
father or her cousin until the latter wen
upstairs an hour later to see if Conniwere ready for her morning walk.
"Why, Connie, dear! What is th
matter?"
Since her tap at the door wen
unanswered, Myra had turned the kno
and entered. Connie was lying in dejected little heap on the floor before th
fireless grate. She shook her head in dum
protest at her cousin's question; but whe
Myra knelt beside her it all came ou
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brokenly.
"You didn't see what poppa gave me to
read: it was an account of a suicide. MrJeffard has killed himself, and—and, oh
Myra! it's all my fault!"
"Mr. Jeffard? Oh, I remember now,—
Mr. Bartrow's friend. But I don
understand; how could it have been you
fault?"
"It was, it was! Don't you remembe
what Dick said? that Mr. Jeffard was i
rouble, and that he had a place for him?
saw him yesterday, and I— I didn't tel
him!"
"But, Connie, dear, how could you
You didn't know him." Getting no more
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han a smothered sob in reply to this, Myr
asked for particulars, and Connie gav
hem sparingly.
"You say the name was George
Jeffrey? Why do you think it was Mr
Jeffard? I can't for the life of me see how
you are to blame, in the remotest sensebut if you are, it's foolish to grieve over i
until you are quite sure of the identities
sn't there any way you can find out?"
Connie sat up at that, but she refused t
be comforted.
"There is a way, and I'll try it; but it'
no use, Myra. I'm just as sure as if I ha
stood beside him when he did it. And
shall never, never forgive myself!"
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She got up and bathed her eyes, an
when she had made herself ready to g
out, she refused Myra's proffer o
company.
"No, dear; thank you, but I'd rather g
alone," she objected; "I'll share the miser
of it with you by and by, perhaps, but can't just yet."
Her plan for making sure was a simpl
one. Tommie Reagan had known Jeffardiving, and he would know him dead
Putting it in train, she found her smal
henchman selling papers on his regula
beat in front of the Opera House; annasmuch as he was crying the principa
fact of the tragedy, she was spared th
necessity of entering into details.
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"Tommie, have you—did you go to see
he man who killed himself last night?
she questioned.
"Nope; der ain't no morbid cur'osit
nside o' me."
"Would you go?—if I asked you to?"
"W'y, cert; I'd take a squint at de old
feller wid de hoofs an' horns if it'd do yo
any good."
"Then I'll tell you why I want you t
go. I am afraid it is the man we wer
going to try to help."
The boy shut one eye and whistle
softly. "My gosh! but dat's tough, ain't i
now! An' jest w'en I'd got 'quainted with
him an' was a-fixin' to give him a lift
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Dat's wot I call hard luck!"
Constance felt that the uncertainty wa
no longer to be borne. "Go quicklyTommie," she directed; "and hurry back a
soon as you can. I'll wait for you in th
drug store across the street."
The coroner's office was not far t
seek, and the small scout was back in
few minutes.
"Dey wouldn't lemme look," h
reported, "but I skinned round to where
could see de top o' his head. It's his nibs
right 'nough."
"Tommie! Are you quite sure?"
"Nope; feller ain't sure o' nothin' in di
world, 'ceptin' death an' de penitenchry,
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amended Tommie, doing violence to hi
convictions when he saw that his patro
saint was sorely in need of comfort
"Maybe 'tain't him, after all. You jest loaround yere a couple o' shakes while I skip
down to his hotel an' see wot I can di
up."
The boy was gone less than a quarte
of an hour, but to Constance the minute
marched leaden-footed. When Tommie
returned, his face signaled discomfiture.
"I didn't send me card up," h
explained, with impish gravity; "I jes
went right up to his nibsey's room anmogged in, a-thinkin' I'd offer him a pape
f he happened to be there and kicked
Say, Miss Constance; 'tain't a-goin' ter do
no good to cry about it. He ain't there, an
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he ain't been there, 'nless he slep' in
chair."
Constance went home with a lump iher throat and her trouble writ large on he
face, and Myra needed not to ask the resul
of the investigation. Miss Van Vetter was
not less curious than she should havbeen, but something in Connie's eye
forestalled inquiry, and Myra held he
peace.
Connie wore out the day as best sh
might, widening the rift of sorrow until i
bade fair to become an abyss of remorse
When evening came, and with it elegram from Bartrow, asking if she had
yet learned Jeffard's whereabouts, it wa
oo much, and she shared the misery wit
her cousin, as she had promised to
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making a clean breast of it from th
beginning. Something to her surprise
Myra heard her through without a word o
condemnation or reproach.
"Now that is something I ca
understand," said Myra, when the tale wa
old. "The most of your charity worseems to me to be pitifully commonplac
and inconsequent; but here was a missio
which asked for all sorts of heroism, fo
which it promised to pay the highest of alprices, namely, the possibility of saving
man worth the trouble."
Now Connie was well assured that heove for her neighbor was no respecter o
persons, and she made answe
accordingly.
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"I can't agree with you there, Myra. Mr
Jeffard's possible worth had nothing to d
with it. I wanted to help him because—
well, because it was mean in me to makhim talk about himself that night at th
opera. And besides, when I met him th
next evening at Mrs. Calmaine's, he tol
me enough to make me quite sure that hneeded all the help and encouragement h
could get. Of course, he didn't sa
anything like that, you know; but I knew."
Myra's eyes promised sympathy, and
Connie went on.
"Then, when I came upon hiyesterday I was angry because he wa
hurting Tommie. And afterward, when
ried to explain, he made me understan
hat I mustn't reach down to him; and—an
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didn't know any other way to go abou
t."
"That was a situation in which I shoulprobably have horrified you," said Myr
decisively. "I shouldn't have noticed o
known anything about him at first, as yo
did; but in your place yesterday, and wityour knowledge of the circumstances,
should have said my say whether h
wanted to hear it or not. And I'd hav
made him listen to reason, too."
"You don't quite understand, Myra. I
seemed altogether impossible; though if
had known what was in his mind I shoulhave spoken at any cost."
Twenty times the pendulum of the
chalet clock on the wall beat the seconds
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and Myra was silent; then she crosse
over to Connie's chair and sat upon th
arm of it.
"Connie, dear, you're crying again,"—
his with her arm around her cousin's neck
"Are you quite sure you haven't bee
elling me half-truths? Wasn't there theeast little bit of a feeling warmer tha
charity in your heart for this poor fellow?
Constance shook her head, but thdenial did not set itself in words. "He wa
Dick's friend, and that was enough," sh
replied.
Miss Van Vetter's lips brushed her
cousin's cheek, and Constance felt a war
ear plash on her hand. This was quit
another Myra from the one she thought sh
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knew, and she said as much.
"We're all puzzles, Connie dear, and
he answers to most of us have been lostbut, do you know, I can't help crying
ittle with you for this poor fellow. Just to
hink of him lying there with no one withi
a thousand miles to care the least little biabout it. And if you are right—if it is Mr
Bartrow's friend—it's so much the mor
pitiful. The world is poorer when suc
men leave it."
"Why, Myra! What do you know abou
him?"
"Nothing more than you do—or a
much. But surely you haven't forgotte
what Mr. Bartrow told us."
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"About his helping Mr. Lansdale?"
"Yes."
"No, I hadn't forgotten."
"It was very noble; and so delicatel
chivalrous. It seems as if one who di
such things would surely be helped in hiown day of misfortune. But that doesn
often happen, I'm afraid."
"No," Constance assented, with a sighand Myra went back to the question o
dentity.
"I suppose there is no possible chanchat Tommie may have been mistaken?"
Constance shook her head. "I think no
he saw that I was troubled about it, and h
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would have strained a point to comfort m
f the facts had given him leave. But I shal
be quite sure before I answer Dick'
message."
With that thought in mind, and with no
hope behind it, Constance waylaid he
father in the hall the next morning as hwas about to go out.
"Poppa, I want you to do something fo
me; no, not that"—the elderly man wafeeling in his pockets for his check-boo
—"it is something very different, this time
different and—and rather dreadful. You
remember the suicide you read aboutyesterday morning?"
"Did I read about one? Oh, yes; th
man that shot himself down on the Platte
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or was it Cherry Creek? The fellow
hought might be Dick's friend. What abou
t?"
"It's that. We ought to make sure of i
for Dick's sake, you know. Won't you go
o the coroner's office and see if it is Mr
Jeffard? It's a horrible thing to ask you tdo, but"—
There was grim reminiscence in th
old pioneer's smile. "It won't be the firsone I've seen that died with his boots on
'll go and locate your claim for you."
She kissed him good-by, but he cam
back from the gate to say: "Hold on, here
don't know your Mr. Jeffard from a sid
of sole leather. How am I going to identify
him?"
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"You've seen him once," she explained
"Do you remember the man who sat nex
o me the night we went to hear 'Th
Bohemian Girl'?"
"The thirsty one that you and Myr
made a bet on? Yes, I recollect him."
"I don't think he was thirsty. Would you
know him if you were to see him again?"
"I guess maybe I would; I've seen hi
half a dozen times since,—met him ou
here on the sidewalk the next morning. I
hat your man?"
"That was Mr. Jeffard," she affirmedurning away that he might not see the tear
hat welled up unbidden.
"All right; I'll go and identify him fo
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you."
So he said, and so he meant to do; bu
t proved to be a rather exciting day at thMining Exchange, and he forgot th
commission until he was about to board
homeward-bound car in the evening. The
he found that he was too late. The body ohe suicide had been shipped East i
accordance with telegraphic instruction
received at noon. When he made hi
report to Constance, she fell back upoTommie's assurance, and sent the delayed
answer to Bartrow's message, telling hi
hat his friend was dead.
Having sorrowfully recorded all thes
hings in the book of facts accomplished, i
was not wonderful that Constance, comin
out of Margaret Gannon's room late th
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following afternoon, should cover her fac
and cry out in something akin to terro
when she cannoned against Jeffard at th
urn in the dingy hallway. Neither was iremarkable that her strength shoul
forsake her for the moment; nor tha
Jeffard, seeing her plight, should forget hi
degradation and give her timely help beading her to a seat in the dusty window
embrasure. At that the conventionalities
or such shreds of them as might still hav
bound either of them, parted asunder in th
midst, and for the time being they were bu
a man and a woman, as God had create
hem."Oh, I'm so glad!" were her firs
words. "I—I thought you were dead!"
"I ought to be," was his comment. "Bu
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what made you think that?"
"It was in the newspaper—about th
man who shot himself. I was afraid it wayou, and when Tommie had been to see
we were sure of it."
"In the newspaper?" he queried; an
hen, with a ghost of a smile which wa
mirthless: "It was a little previous, but s
ustifiable that I really ought to take th
hint. Can't you tell me more? I'mmensely interested."
She told him everything from th
beginning, concluding with a pathetic littl
appeal for forgiveness if she had don
wrong in taking too much for granted.
"You couldn't well do that," he
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hastened to say. "And you mustn't as
forgiveness for motives which an ange
might envy. But it is casting pearls befor
swine in my case, Miss Elliott. I havsown the wind, deliberately and wit
malice aforethought, and now I am reapin
he whirlwind, and regretting day by da
hat it doesn't develop sufficient violenco finish that which it has begun."
"Please don't say that," she pleaded
"There are always hands stretched out thelp us, if we could but see and lay hol
of them. Why won't you let Dick help yo
when he is so anxious to do it? You will
now that you know about it, won't you?"
"I knew about it before. Lansdale tol
me, but I made him promise to drop it. I
sn't that I wouldn't accept help fro
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Bartrow as willingly as I would from an
one in the world; it is simply that I don
care to take the chance of addin
ngratitude to my other ill-doings."
"Ingratitude?"
"Yes. The man who allows his friend
o help him in any crisis of his ow
making should at least be able to giv
bond for his good behavior. I can't do tha
now. I wouldn't trust myself to go acroshe street. I know my own potentiality fo
evil too well."
"But potentiality isn't evil," sh
protested. "It's only the power to d
hings, good or bad. And if one have tha
here is always hope."
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"Not for me," he said shortly. "I hav
sinned against grace."
"Who hasn't?" Constance rejoined"But grace doesn't die because it's sinne
against."
He smiled again at that. "I think m
particular allotment of grace is dea
beyond the hope of resurrection."
"How can that be?"
He put his back to the window so tha
he had not to look in her eyes.
"Grace for most men takes the form oan ideal. So long as the condition to b
attained is ahead there is hope, but whe
one has turned his back upon it"—
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Indirection fences badly with open
eyed sincerity, and he did not finish. Bu
he door was open now, and Constanc
meant to do her whole duty.
"I think I understand," she assented
"but I wish you would be quite frank wit
me. In a way, I am Mr. Bartrow's deputyand if I have to tell him you refuse to le
him help you, I shall have to give him
better reason than you have given me."
"You are inexorable," he said, and
here was love in his eyes, despite hi
efforts reasonward. "I wish I dared tel
you the whole miserable truth."
"And why may you not?"
"Because it concerns—a woman."
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She shrank back a little at that, and h
saw that she had misunderstood
Wherefore he plunged recklessly into th
pool of frankness.
"The woman is a good woman," h
went on quickly, "and one day not so very
ong ago I loved her well enough tbelieve that I could win my way back t
decency and uprightness for her sake. I
was a mistake. I had fallen lower than
knew, and the devil came in for his own."
Here was something tangible to la
hold of at last, and Connie made instan
use of it.
"Does she know?" she asked.
The mirthless smile came and wen
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again. "She thinks she does."
"But you haven't told her all; is that it?
"I have tried to, but, being a goowoman, she can't understand. I think
didn't fully understand, myself; but I d
now."
"Is it so far beyond reparation?"
"It is indeed. If the devil's emissar
who has brought me to this pass could bexorcised this moment I should neve
recover the lost ground of self-respect
There is nothing to go back to. If I had no
o be despicable from necessity, I shoulddoubtless be so from choice."
"I think you are harder with yoursel
han you would be with another. Can't yo
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begin to believe in yourself again?
believe in you."
"You!—but you don't know what youare saying, Miss Elliott. See!"—his coa
was buttoned to the chin, tramp-wise, an
he tore it open to show her the rags tha
underlay it—"do you understand now? have pawned the shirt off my back—not t
satisfy the cravings of hunger, but to feed
baser passion than that of the mos
avaricious miser that ever lived. Do make it plain that I am not worthy of you
sympathy, or of Richard Bartrow's?"
For once the clear gray eyes werveiled, and her chin quivered a little whe
she spoke. "You hurt me more than I can
ell," she said.
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The dull rage of self-abasement in hi
flamed into passion at the sight of what h
had done, but the bitter speech of it tarrie
at the sound of a heavy step on the stairConstance rose from her seat in th
window embrasure with a nervous thril
of embarrassment, but Jeffard relieved he
at once. There was a vacant room on thopposite side of the corridor, and whe
he intruder appeared at the stair-head
Miss Elliott was alone.
She glanced at the man as he passed
and Jeffard, from his place behind th
half-closed door of the vacant room, saw
her draw back, and clenched his handand swore softly, because, forsooth, sh
had for some fleeting pulse-beat of time t
breathe the same air with the intruder. Fo
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he knew the man as a purveyor for Pete
Grim's house of dishonor; a base thing fo
which wholesome speech has no name.
What followed was without sequence
Almost at the same instant the footsteps o
he man ceased to echo in the empt
corridor, there was a cry half angry andhalf of terror from Margaret Gannon'
room, and Miss Elliott disappeared fro
Jeffard's limited field of vision. In th
urning of a leaf Jeffard was at the door ohe room in the end of the corridor. Wha
he saw and heard made a man of him fo
he moment. Margaret Gannon ha
evidently been surprised at her sewingmachine; the work was still under th
needle, and the chair was overturned
Margaret was crouching in the farthes
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corner of the room, with Miss Ellio
standing over her like a small guardia
angel at bay. The nameless one had hi
back to the door, and Jeffard heard onlhe conclusion of a jeering insult whic
ncluded both of the women.
Now Jeffard had fasted for twenty-fouhours, and the quick dash to the end of th
corridor made him dizzy and faint; but re
wrath, so it be fierce enough, is its ow
elixir. Thinking of nothing but that hshould acquit himself as a man before th
woman he loved, he flung himself upon th
contemner of women with the vigor of
righteous cause singing in his veins likhe wine of new life.
The struggle was short and decisive. I
his college days Jeffard had been a man o
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his hands, and the fierce onset proved t
be the better half of the battle. Constanc
caught her breath and cowered in th
corner with Margaret when the two mewent down together, but she gave a glad
ittle cry when she saw that Jeffard ha
won the fall; that he had wrenched th
drawn pistol from the other's grasp anflung it harmless across the room. The
here was another and a fiercer grapple o
he floor, and Jeffard's fist rose and fel
ike a blacksmith's hammer with th
dodging head of his antagonist for it
anvil.
The end of it was as abrupt as thbeginning. In the midst of anothe
wrestling bout the beaten one free
himself, bounded to his feet, and darte
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nto the corridor with Jeffard at his heels
There was a sharp scurry of racing feet i
he hall, a prolonged crash as of a heav
body falling down the stair, and Jeffardwas back again, panting with the violenc
of it, but with eyes alight and an apolog
on his lips.
Constance ran to meet him and cut th
apology short.
"The idea!" she protested; "when iwas for Margaret's sake and mine! Ar
you sure you're not hurt?"
Jeffard's knuckles were cut an
bleeding, but he kept that hand behind him
"It's the other fellow who is hurt,
hope." Then to Margaret: "Do you know
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him? Are you afraid of him?"
Margaret glanced at Constance an
hesitated. "He'll not be troubling me anmore, I'm thinking. It's Pete Grim that sen
him; and he was at me before I knew."
Jeffard picked up the captured weapo
and put it on the sewing-machine.
"Take that to him if he comes again
when you are alone. Miss Elliott, pleas
stay here a moment until I can go dow
and see that the way is clear."
He was gone at the word, but he ha
barely reached the window with the dustembrasure when she overtook him. Ther
was a sweet shyness in her manner now
and he trembled as he had not in any stag
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of the late encounter.
"Mr. Jeffard," she began, "will yo
forgive me if I say that you havdisproved all the hard things you wer
rying to say of yourself? You'll let me
wire Dick, now, won't you?"
He shook his head because he wa
afraid to trust himself to speak. A
between an abject appeal with hi
hopeless passion for its motive, and plunge back into the abyss of degradatio
which would efface the temptation, ther
was nothing to choose.
"You will at least promise me that you
will consider it," she went on. "I can't as
ess."
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If he did not reply immediately it wa
because he was trying to fix her image s
hat he should always be able to think o
her just as she stood, with the afternoosunlight falling upon her face, irradiatin
t and making a shimmering halo of th
red-brown hair and deep wells of th
clear gray eyes. A vagrant thought came tohim: that it was worth a descent into th
nether depths to have such a woman see
him out and plead with him for his soul'
sake. He put it aside to deny her entreaty.
"I can't promise even that."
She was silent for a moment, anembarrassment came back and fought fo
holding-ground when she tried to brin
herself to do the thing which compassio
suggested. But compassion won; an
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Jeffard looked on with a half-cynica
smile when she took a gold coin from he
purse and offered it to him.
"Just for the present," she begged, wit
a beseeching look which might hav
melted a worse man.
He took the money, and the smil
ended in an unpleasant laugh.
"You think I ought to refuse, and so
ought; as any man would who had a spar
of manhood left in him. But that is why
ake it; I have been trying to make yo
understand that I am not worth saving. D
make it plain to you?"
"You make me very sorry," she
quavered; and because her sorrow
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hrottled speech, she turned and left him.
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CHAPTER X
After Constance had gone, Jeffard ha
an exceedingly bad half-hour. For a tim
he tramped up and down the deserte
corridor, calling himself hard names and
ikening his latest obliquity to whatsoeve
unpardonable sin has been recorde
against the most incorrigible of mankindLove had its word, also—outraged love
acknowledged only to be openly floute
and spat upon; for one may neither d
violence to a worthy passion, nor givrein to an unworthy, without paying for it
blow for blow. What would she think o
him? What could she think, save that sh
had wasted her sympathy on a shameles
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vagabond who had sought to palm himsel
off on her and her friends as a gentleman?
The thought of it was stifling. The aiof the musty hallway seemed suddenly t
grow suffocating, and the muffle
drumming of the sewing-machine i
Margaret Gannon's room jarred upon hiuntil it drove him forth to wander hot
hearted and desperate in the streets.
Without remembering that he hadcrossed the viaduct or ascended the hil
he finally found himself wandering in th
Highlands. Drifting aimlessly on beyon
he fringe of suburban houses, he came the borders of a shallow pond what tim
he sun was poising for its plunge behin
he upreared mountain background in th
west. It was here, when he had flun
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himself down upon the warm brown eart
n utter weariness of soul and body, tha
his good angel came once more an
wrestled with him.
Looking backward he saw that th
angle of the inclined plane had grow
suddenly precipitous within a fortnighSince the night of his quarrel with th
well-meaning miner, the baize door at th
head of the carpeted stair had been close
o him. In consequence he had been driveo the lair of a less carefully groomed bu
more rapacious wild beast whose keepe
offered his patrons a choice between th
more serious business of the gamingables, and the lighter diversions of
variety theatre. Jeffard had seen th
nterior of the Bijou on the earliest of hi
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nvestigative expeditions in Denver, and
had gone away sick at heart at the sight o
t. Wherefore it was a measure of th
depths to which he had descended that hcould become an habitue of the place
caring nothing for the misery an
depravity which locked arms with all wh
breathed its tainted atmosphere.
It was at the Bijou that he had lost th
better part of the winnings rescued by th
miner's bit of charitable by-play; and iwas there, also, that he had thrown awa
he major portion of a second gift fro
Lansdale. For two nights in succession th
ack of money had kept him away.
He took out Connie's offering an
stared at it with lack-lustre eyes. Wit
heedful manipulation here was the fuel t
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feed the fire of his besetting passion fo
some hours. Having permitted her to giv
and himself to take it, why should h
quibble at the manner of its spendingWhen he saw that hesitancy implie
another attempt to turn back at the elevent
hour, he felt that this was no longe
possible. Try as he might, the shame ohis last infamous thing would reach ou
and drag him back into the mire.
The alternative disposed of, the mattesimplified itself. He had only to determin
whether he should end it all before o
after he had flung away this bit of yellow
metal. The decision was so nicelbalanced that he let it turn upon th
flipping of the coin—heads for a sudde
plunge into the pond, tails for a final bou
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with chance and the plunge afterward.
He spun the gold piece, and went dow
on his hands and knees to read the oracln the fading light. It was the misshape
eagle that stared back at him from the fac
of the coin, and he took his repriev
sullenly, calling his evil genius a usurer.
He got upon his feet stiffly and turne
his face toward the city. Then it occurred
o him that it would be well to make hipreparations while he could see. Ther
was a house building on the little knol
above the pond; a brick and the binding
string from a bundle of lath would serveand when he had secured them he sounde
he pond around the edges with a stick. I
was too shallow; but from a plank throw
across to the head of the drainage flume i
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proved deep enough, and here he left th
brick and the bit of tarred twine.
Half an hour later he entered the BijouOn the threshold he met the proprietor
and when he would have passed with
nod, Grim barred the way.
"Been layin' for you," announced th
man of vice, sententiously. "Come into th
box-office."
Jeffard obeyed mechanically. He wa
n the semi-stupor which anticipates th
delirium of the gaming fever, and th
man's voice sounded afar off. Grim led th
way behind the bar to a windowless de
furnished with a roll-top desk and tw
chairs. Closing the door, he waved Jeffard
o a seat.
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"Been sort o' sizin' you up lately, and
put it up that you're out o' luck. Does tha
call the turn?"
"I don't know how that concerns you,
said Jeffard, with a sudden access of dul
resentment.
"No more do I; but that's neither her
nor yonder. You're down on your luck
ain't you?"
Jeffard nodded. "Call it that, if yo
ike."
"Thought so. Broke most of the time,
reckon?"
"Yes; most of the time."
"Jes' so. Well, I'm goin' to put you on
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o a soft snap. I know all about you—wh
you are, where you come from, and all th
rest. You've been playin' to lose righ
along, and now I'm goin' to give you a tipso you can play to win ever' time. See?"
Jeffard came out of his abstractio
sufficiently to wonder what the man wadriving at. "Make it short," he rejoine
curtly.
Grim leaned back in his pivot-chairand his hard face wrinkled under an evi
smile.
"Don't be in a rush. Game runs al
night, and you'll have plenty of time to g
and blow in whatever you've got after
get through with you. Or, if you can't wait
go and blow it first, and we'll tal
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business afterwards."
"No," Jeffard objected sullenly. "If yo
have anything to say to me, say it now.""Business before pleasure, eh? Al
right; here's the lay-out. I'm goin' to stak
you with a suit o' good clothes, pay you
board at the Albany or the Brown
whichever you like, and give you a roll t
flash up that'll make you feel flush ever
ime you look at it. Then"—
Jeffard's gesture was of impatience.
"Never mind about the details. What i
he price of all this?"
"Mighty nigh nothin' at all. You had
plenty o' friends a while back, and you'l
have 'em again, as soon as you're flush
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And when any of 'em feel like proddin' th
agger, why—you know where he's kep
hat's all."
While one might draw a breath ther
was murder in Jeffard's heart; in hi
weakness a rage that was childish in it
vehemence took possession of him, and hcovered his face with his hands to crus
back the hot tears of impotence whic
sprang up and blinded him. Grim looke
on unpityingly, waiting for what hconceived to be the inevitable. Whe
Jeffard struggled to his feet, his face wa
white and he had to steady himself by th
back of the chair.
"I thought I'd got to the bottom when
came here to-night," he began unsteadily
"but you've shown me my mistake. Than
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God, I can yet say No to you, low as I am
Let me get out of here."
Knowing the strength of the gambler'chain, as well as the length thereof, Gri
held his peace; and Jeffard pushed past th
bar-tender and went out through the smal
door at the end of the bar. On the sidewala crowd beset the theatre entrance, and ou
of the midst of it came two men, strikin
and clutching at each other as they fough
heir way into the clear. Within arm'sength of Jeffard they separated. He saw
he sheen of the electric light on a weapon
and darted between them in time to spoi
he aim of the man who drew first. Therwas a flash and a report, a rush on the par
of the crowd, and Jeffard found himsel
dodging and doubling swiftly through dar
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alleys and crooked covered ways
following the lead of the man whose lif
he had saved. After a time they came ou
n a silent street where there was light.
"Didn't know me, did you, pardner?
quoth the fugitive, relaxing his grasp o
Jeffard's wrist. "Like as not you wouldna' done it if you had, but that don't saw n
wood with me. That greaser had the dro
on me, sure's yer born."
Whereupon Jeffard looked again, an
recognizing his friendly enemy of th
winning night, was glad, inasmuch as h
had been able to cancel an obligationone the less, his reply was ungraciou
enough.
"Oh, it's you, is it? Well, we're quit
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now. Good-night."
He turned and walked away, but at th
corner the man overtook him. "Not that-away," he forbade, pointing up the street
"Somebody in the crowd'll be sure t
know you, and you'll walk slap back int
rouble after I done drug you out. Thp'lice are there by this time, an' they don
care who, so they get a man 'r two to loc
up."
Jeffard nodded, and made a circuit o
he dangerous locality with his head u
and the light of a steadfast purpose in hi
eyes. Whatever of vacillation there was ihim an hour earlier had been thoroughl
flailed out in the brief interview wit
Peter Grim. He knew now what he had t
do, and the precise manner of its doing.
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Keeping to the quieter streets, he cam
out in front of the St. James; and dodgin
he crowded lobby, made his way to th
writing-room. Since he dare not go to thclerk for stationery, he was compelled to
wait until some one left what he required
The chance befell presently, but when h
came to write his note to Constance Elliohe thing was harder to do than he ha
prefigured it. What he finally wrote, afte
he had spoiled two of the three sheets o
paper left by his predecessor in the chai
at the writing-table, was this:—
"After what happened this afternoon
you will not think worse of me if I ask yoo let me try to explain what must seem t
you too despicable to be remembered.
can't hope to make you understand withou
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being frank, and when, at some futur
ime, you may learn the circumstance
under which this is written, I shall hop
for forgiveness.
"You may remember that I said
couldn't tell you the truth, because i
concerns a woman. When I add that thwoman is yourself, you will understand.
ove you; I think I have been loving yo
ever since that evening which you said w
were to forget—the evening at the theatreStrangely enough, my love for you isn
strong in the strength which saves. I wen
from you that night when you had bidde
me God-speed at Mrs. Calmaine's, anwithin the hour I was once more
penniless vagabond.
"When you were trying to help me thi
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afternoon, I was trying to keep from sayin
hat which I could never have a right t
say. You pressed me very hard in your
sweet innocence and loving sympathy,—you see, I am quite frank,—and when yo
finally gave me a chance to make th
mpossible thing that I longed to say stil
more impossible, I took it in sheedesperation. Nay, more; I purposed in m
heart to so desecrate your gift as to mak
he thought of my love for you a
unhallowed memory.
"That is all, I think, save, when it cam
o the brink, I found that there was still
deeper depth which was yet unplumbedand which I trust I shall have the courag
o leave unexplored."
When it was finished he wrapped th
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gold piece in a bit of paper, and, putting i
n the envelope with the note, set out t
find the house in Colfax Avenue. Having
seen it but once, and that in daylight, iwas not singular that it eluded him in th
night; but it was surely the very irony o
chance which led him to slip the envelop
under the front door of a house twsquares beyond that occupied by th
Elliotts, and which kept him from noticin
he placard "For Rent" nailed upon th
very door under which he thrust hi
message to Constance.
This single preliminary set in order, h
faced once more toward the Highlandsagging a little from sheer weariness as h
went, but finding comfort in the though
hat there would be infinite surcease fro
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hunger and exhaustion at the end of thi
ast pilgrimage.
There was time for reflection on thway, and he marvelled that his thought
dwelt so persistently upon the trivia
details of the thing he was about to do. H
was a practiced swimmer; would thweight of a single brick be sufficient t
overcome the instinct of self-preservatio
which might assert itself at the las
moment? Probably, since he was weafrom fasting, and would be encumbere
with his clothing. Then another suggestio
came to torment him: If he should tie th
brick to his feet, as he had thought to, thwater might not be deep enough, after al
Consequently, he must fasten it about hi
neck. And thereupon he had a fit o
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creeping horror at the thought of drownin
with his face dragged down into the ooz
and slime of the bottom.
Oddly enough, when he came to th
brink of the pool these things ceased t
rouble him; though even there it wa
mpossible to turn the current of thoughnto a reflective channel. He made th
effort for decency's sake. It was not mee
hat a thinking being should go out of lif
ike the brutes that perish; without hought for the past with its lacks an
havings, or the future with its untrie
possibilities. But the effort returned to hi
void, and presently he stumbled upon threason: the premeditated fact of self
murder shut him off alike from repentanc
for what had gone before, and from hop
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n what should come after.
Very good, he said; and flung himsel
down to make the most of the present. Hwas faint and weary, and it would be ill to
drown a tired body. There was no moon
but the midsummer night was clear an
still. The stars burned steadily overheadand there was a soft light abroad whic
seemed to be a part of the atmosphere
Over in the west the black bulk of th
range rose up to meet the sky; and poiseabove one of the highest peaks the plane
Mars swung to its setting. Jeffard marke
t, saying it should be his executioner; tha
when the rosy point of light should touche black sky-line, he would rise up an
go to his place.
Meanwhile it was soothing to li
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stretched out upon the warm earth with n
human future to prefigure, and no pas
nsistent enough to disturb one with it
annals. And there was still the presentwith its soft light and its dim hemispher
of sky; its balmy air and its vague an
shadowy horizon. It was good to be alon
with nature in these last few moments; thave done with the tiresome world o
man's marring; to be quit of man'
presence.
The thought had scarcely shaped itsel
when it was made of none effect by th
appearance of a man at the top of the littl
knoll. The intruder came straight on, as in no doubt as to his purpose, and sittin
down on the end of the plank bridge
proceeded to fill and light his pip
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without saying a word. Jeffard caught
glimpse of a bearded face by the flare o
he match, and said, "Oh, it's you again, i
t?"
"Right you are, pardner. Hope I ain
ntrudin'."
"I suppose you have as good a righ
here as I have. But I might suggest that th
night is fine and the world large, and tha
here are times when a man has no use fohis fellows."
The new-comer smoked in silence fo
a full minute before he removed his pip
o say:—
"That's a sort of a gilt-edged invitatio
for me to mog off, ain't it? All right; I'll go
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pretty middlin' quick; but I've been foo
enough to tramp somewheres nigh ten mil
behind you to-night for to get a show t
say what's on my mind; wher'fore, I'll sat first and vamoose afte'wards."
Jeffard gave him leave, watching th
narrowing margin between the star and thmountain-top.
"Well, b'iled down, it's just about this
know what you're out yere for,—seen in your eye back yonder on the stree
corner,—but I says to myself, 'Jim Garvin
you go kinder slow; it ain't none o' you
business. When a man takes a mill-run ohisself and finds out the claim ain't wort
workin' no longer, w'y, it's his funeral, an
none o' yourn.' And then again I says to
myself, 'Maybe that there feller hain't go
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nary 'nother claim—leastwise, not as h
knows of,' and so I follered you, all ove
he blame' town and out yere."
Jeffard made no reply, and the intrude
went on.
"'Course, you understand I ain't a
mixin' up any in your business, not if
know it. You just listen at what I'm goin
o say, and then if you want to go ahead
w'y, all right, do it; and I'll loan you mgun so 't you won't have to get yoursel
wet in cold water. Is that about right?"
"Go on," said Jeffard.
"Well, it's this-a-way; I'm off on a
prospectin' tower to-morrow. Blowed i
ever' last thing I had, and took a grub
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stake, same as heretofore. Now the ol
man that puts up the grub-stake, he says
says he, 'Jim, you'll want a pardner. It'
gettin' pretty late in the season, and yowon't stand no kind of a chance goin
alone.' 'Right you are,' says I,' and I'll pic
up some feller on the range as I go in
Good enough,' says he. 'I'll make this herorder big enough to stake the two of you
That's the whole lay-out, and you're th
pardner, if you say the word. You don'
know beans about me, and I don't know
you from Adam's off ox, so that's a stand
off. What do you say?"
Jeffard did not answer until there wabut a bare thread of sky between the sta
and the peak. Then he said: "Do yo
happen to have a coin of any kind abou
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you?"
Garvin tossed a dollar across to him
and Jeffard spun it. Then he found that hhad no match, and asked the miner to giv
him one. Garvin watched him curiously a
he bent over the coin and struck the match
"The luck's against me—it's heads," h
announced gravely. "I'll go with you."
Garvin rose and stretched himsel
stiffly.
"You're a cool one," he commented
"What if it'd been tails?"
Jeffard got up and kicked the brick int
he pond. "In that case I should have bee
obliged to ask you to lend me your pistol
Let's go back to town and get something t
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eat with that dollar. I haven't had anythin
since last night."
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CHAPTER XI
After toiling all night through blac
gorges and over unspeakable mountai
passes, the narrow-gauge train fro
Denver, headed by two pygm
ocomotives, came out into daylight
sunshine, and wider horizons at Alt
Vista. In the sleeping-car three sectionhad been transformed by the drows
porter into daytime smugness, and thre
persons—two of them in deference to th
enthusiasm of the third—were up andressed.
"Isn't it all perfectly indescribable?
Myra was saying, when the engineer o
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one of the pygmies sounded the whistle fo
he station. "Do you know, I couldn't go to
sleep for hours last night, late as it was.
put up the window curtain and piled thpillows in the corner so I could look ou
The sky was like a great inverted bow
ined with black velvet and spangled wit
diamonds, circling around us as we dartearound the curves. And in the open place
here was always a solemn procession o
cliffs and peaks, marching with u
sometimes, and then turning to slip pas
again when the bowl whirled the othe
way. Oh, but it was grand!"
"I'm glad it lays hold of you," saiConnie, who was loyally jealous for th
scenic renown of her native Colorado
"Now you know why I wouldn't let you g
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on any of those breathless little one-da
excursions from Denver. They just tak
you up in a balloon, give you a glimps
while you gasp, and drop you without parachute. The tourist people all mak
hem, you know,—it's in the itinerary, wit
a coupon in the cute little morocco-boun
book of tickets,—and they come bacwild-eyed and desperate, and go withou
heir suppers to scribble incoherent note
about the 'Cache la Platte' and 'Clea
Poudre Canyon,' and other ridiculou
hings. It would be funny if it wasn't s
exasperating."
Myra nodded. "I'm beginning to 'savezas Mr. Bartrow would say. By the way
sn't this the place where he was to mee
us?—Why, yes; there he is now!" Sh
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waved her hand and struggled with th
window-latch as the train drew up to th
platform.
He was with them in a momen
carrying a towel-covered basket, and a ti
coffee-pot which he waved gingerly b
way of salutation.
"The top o' the morning to you all," h
said, beaming genially. "I was afraid you
wouldn't be up, and then my hot coffewould be cold coffee, and I'd get mysel
disliked." Then to the drowsy porter
"John, you scoundrel, get us a table befor
break you in two and throw you out ohe window."
The table was promptly forthcoming
and Myra made room in the narrow sea
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for Bartrow.
"Excuse me," he begged, laughing, "I'
ike to, but I can't. Somebody's got to stanup and do the swing-rack act with thi
coffee-pot. Just unload that basket, wil
you, Elliott, and I'll play head waite
while you set the table."
The breakfast was good, and there wa
a most astonishing variety. Moreover th
coffee rose to a degree of excellencwhich more than atoned for the admixtur
of condensed milk in lieu of cream, an
for the slight resinous taste imparted b
he new tin cups. Bartrow apologized fohe cups.
"You see, I left the mine rathe
middling early this morning, and packe
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hings in a hurry. When I was making th
coffee over Jim Bryant's stove here at Alt
Vista, it struck me all at once that I'd
forgotten the cups. The train was in sightand Jim had only one, and that hadn't bee
washed for a month of Sundays. Mayb
you think I wasn't stampeded for about
minute."
Connie laughed. "I suppose you wen
out and robbed somebody."
"That's what I did; made a break for th
store, and found it locked up, of course.
had to smash a window to get what
wanted."
"Why, you lawless man!" protested
Myra, trying to make room on the narrow
able for the contents of the inexhaustibl
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basket. "Where in the world did you ge
such a variety of things?"
"Canned goods," Connie cut imaliciously; "all canned goods, put out i
dishes so you won't be reminded of th
inny taste. Everybody lives on canne
goods in the mountains."
"Connie, you make me tired," Bartrow
retorted, bracing himself as the trai
whisked around a sharp curve. "Just dig ittle deeper and get out that platter o
rout; they've never seen the inside of
can."
"Never mind what Connie says; sh
sn't responsible," said Myra. "Th
breakfast is just as good as it can be
Besides, you know you promised us tha
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we should live just as you do if we'd visi
he Little Myriad. I wish you'd put tha
coffee-pot on the floor and sit down wit
us."
Bartrow tried it, and found it possible
after which the talk became general an
cheerful over the resinous coffee cups anhe lurching dishes. In a lull Elliott aske
how the Little Myriad was going on.
"Good enough for anybody," rejoinedBartrow, with enthusiasm alert. "Lead
opens out better every day, and we're i
only about seventy-five feet."
"No pay-dirt yet, of course," said th
older man.
"Well, hardly; not yet. I'm figuring on a
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hundred and fifty feet of developmen
work at the very least before we begin t
ake out pay."
"Mr. Bartrow, don't you remember tha
another thing you promised was that yo
wouldn't talk mineral-English before m
without explaining it?" Myra broke in. "want to know"—An unexpected plunge o
he car made her grasp at the coffee cup
and Connie slipped deftly into the break.
"And it shall know, bless it
nquisitive little soul! It shall be stuffe
with information like a fat little pillow
with feathers. But not here, cuzzy dearWait till we're on the ground, and then I'l
go off out of hearing, and Dick may tur
himself into a glossary, or an intelligenc
office, or a personal conductor, o
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anything else you'd like to have him."
Bartrow looked unspeakable things
and put down his knife and fork to say"Connie, you're a—a"—
"Brute, Dickie; say it right out, an
don't spare me on Myra's account. Sh
rather enjoys it; she loves to hear peopl
abuse me."
"Connie, you are perfectl
ncorrigible," said Myra severely. "With
your poor people you are an angel of ligh
but with your friends"—
"I'm an angel of darkness. That's rightcuzzy dear; pile it on, I'm young an
strong. Poppa, can't you think of somethin
mean to say about me? Do try, please."
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Bartrow grinned; and Elliott, wh
knew his daughter's vagaries an
delighted in them, laughed outrigh
Constance made a face across the table aher cousin, and said, "Now talk mines, i
you can."
"I shall," asserted Myra calmly. "MrBartrow, how did you ever come to cal
your mine the 'Little Myriad'?"
If the bottom had suddenly dropped ouof his coffee cup, Bartrow could not hav
been more disconcerted. Constance, wh
was in his secret, laughed gleefully, and
clapped her hands.
"Tell her, Dick; tell her all about it. I
you don't I shall."
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Bartrow stammered and stumbled unti
Connie went into ecstasies of mischievou
delight. After two or three helples
beginnings, he said, rather tamely, "hought it was a pretty name."
"But it's so odd; a myriad is many, and
a mine is only one."
"Oh, the meaning didn't have anythin
o do with it," rejoined Bartrow, goin
straight to his own discomfiture witrefreshing candor. "It was the—th
suggestion; the similarity; the—By Jove
we're there at last; this is the min
switch."
The exclamation was a heartfel
hanksgiving, and in the confusion o
debarking the perilous topic was safel
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eluded. It was a sharp climb of som
distance from the railway track to th
mine, and Elliott developed unsuspecte
reserves of tact by leading the way witMiss Van Vetter, leaving Bartrow to
follow with Constance. When they ha
agged sufficiently behind the others, an
were yet out of earshot of the men whwere following with the luggage, Bartrow
went back to the unexploded petard.
"Connie, you've just got to help me ounow," he declared. "What shall I tell her i
she tackles me again?"
"Tell her the truth."
"I don't dare to."
"Then tell her a fib. But no—on secon
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hought I shouldn't do that, if I were you
you'd only make a mess of it. I'll tell yo
what to do: just fight shy of it till I can ge
her to myself. I promise you she'll neveask you about the Little Myriad'
christening again as long as she lives."
"Thank you," said Bartrow, with the aiof a reprieved criminal; and the
dubiously: "See here, Connie, how ar
you going to do it? No monkey business
you know."
"Not a single, solitary monkey," sh
answered so soberly that Bartrow forgo
his suspicions, and plunged into anothesubject which was also near to his heart.
"About Jeffard; how did you come t
hink he had shot himself?"
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"It was only one of those supposition
you think you have verified when you'v
only been playing blind-man's bluff wit
t. The similarity of names misled me afirst."
"But afterward you merely wired tha
you were mistaken. Was that anothesupposition?"
"Oh, no; I saw him and talked wit
him."
"The mischief you did! What did h
have to say for himself?"
"Not much that will bear repeating. I'oo sorry for him to want to talk about it
Dick."
Bartrow wondered, and kept hi
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wonder to himself. What he said was i
he nature of worldly wisdom.
"Jeffard'll come out all right in the endHe's as obstinate as a pig, but that's th
only swinish thing about him. I'm afrai
he'll have to go through the stamp-mill an
get himself pulverized; but when it comeo the clean-up there'll be more goo
metal than tailings. Don't you think so?"
"How should I know?" querieConstance.
"I didn't ask you what you know;
asked what you thought about it."
"You forget that we've met only two o
hree times."
"I don't forget anything. But I know yo
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can size a man up while the rest of us ar
rying to get acquainted with him. Don
you believe that Jeffard will come out al
right in the end?"
She was silent for a minute or two, an
when she answered there was a tremulou
note in her voice which was new tBartrow.
"I'm afraid he has made that an
everything else impossible, Dick. I tolyou I had seen him and talked with him
hat was the day after I telegraphed yo
about the suicide, nearly two months ago
From that day to this he has not been seeor heard of in Denver, so far as Tommie
can find out."
"Pshaw! Then you think he has take
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he short cut out of it, after all?"
"I don't know what to think," sai
Constance; and as they were at the top ohe steep trail, the subject was dropped.
On the whole, Connie's apprehension
hat her cousin's urban upbringing migh
make her a difficult guest for the youn
miner were apparently groundless. Mis
Van Vetter rhapsodized over the scenery
waded cheerfully through the drippinunnel of the Little Myriad to the ver
heading, in order to see with her own eye
he vein of mineral; thought Bartrow'
hree-room log cabin was good enough foany one; and ate the dishes of Wun Ling'
preparing as though a Chinese cook wer
a necessary adjunct to every wel
regulated household. When the first day o
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exhilarating sight-seeing came to an end
and the two young women were togethe
n their room, Connie bethought her of he
promise to Bartrow.
"By the way, Myra, did you find ou
how the Little Myriad came by its name?
she asked.
"No; I forgot to ask Mr. Bartrow
again."
"I can tell you, if you'd really like t
know."
"Well?"
"He was going to call it the 'Myra,' an
he asked me if I thought you'd object.
old him you would,—most emphatically
Then he said he would call it the 'Myriad
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because that was the only word he coul
hink of that was anything like Myra."
Miss Van Vetter was arranging her hairbefore the small mirror at the other end o
he room, and Constance waited long fo
her rejoinder. When it came it was rathe
rrelevant.
"I've heard of people who could rea
your thoughts better than you could thin
hem," she said; and Connie was tosleepy to strike back.
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CHAPTER XII
For a week after the arrival of hi
visitors, Bartrow had scant time and les
nclination for troublement about suc
purely mundane affairs as the driving o
unnels and the incidental acquisition o
wealth thereby. There were burro
ourneys to the top of the pass, and to thsheer cliff known to the prosai
frontiersmen as the devil's jumping-off
place; excursions afoot down the mountai
o the cool depths of Chipeta Canyon, ano Silver Lake beyond the shrugge
shoulder of Lost Creek Mountain; an
finally there was a breath-cutting climb t
he snow-patched summit of El Reposo
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undertaken for the express purpose o
enabling Myra Van Vetter to say that she
had been where there was reason t
presume that no human being hapreceded her.
These things three of them did, leavin
Stephen Elliott to his own devices, iaccordance with the set terms upon whic
he had consented to father the parti carré
"Go on and climb your mountains and jus
eave me out," he would say, when thpreparations were making for the day'
aunt. "I've had my share of it, off and on
while I was hunting for something I hadn
ost. Dick, here, hasn't any better senshan to humor you; but you'd tramp might
ittle if I had to go along."
Whereupon he would plant his chai
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for the day upon the slab-floored porch o
he cabin, tilt it to a comfortable angl
against the wall, and while away the hour
smoking a mellow pipe and reading thday-old Denver paper painstakingly, fro
he top of the title page to the bottom of th
ast want column.
Thus the crystalline autumn day
winged their flight, and Bartrow squire
he two young women hither and yon, an
finally to the top of El Reposo, arecorded. This excursion was the climax
from a scenic point of view; and Myra
having long since exhausted he
vocabulary of superlatives, was unusuallsilent.
"What's come over you? are yo
gorged with mountains?" queried Conni
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sympathetically, slipping her arm around
her cousin's waist.
"It isn't that; it's just that I'm too full foutterance, I think; or perhaps I should sa
oo empty of words to do it justice. How
flippantly trivial everything human seem
n the face of such a landscape! Here arwe, three inconsequent atoms, standin
brazenly in the face of great nature, an
rying to gather some notion of the infinit
nto our finite little souls. It's sheempertinence."
"They won't mind," rejoined Bartrow
with a comprehensive gesture, meant tnclude the mountains, singular an
collective; "they're used to it—th
mpertinence, I mean. What you see is th
face of nature, as you say, and man doesn
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seem to be in it. Just the same, there is
small army of men scattered among thes
overgrown hills, each with an inquisitiv
pick and shovel, backed by hardihooenough to dare anything for the sake o
adding something to the wealth of th
world."
Myra turned her back on the prospec
and searched Bartrow's eyes in a way t
make him wonder what was wrong wit
his well-turned little speech.
"That is the first insincere thing I eve
heard you say," she asserted. "As if you
didn't know that not one of these men evewastes a second thought upon the world o
he people in it, or upon anything outsid
of his own little circle of ambitions an
cravings!"
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"You're quite right," admitted Bartrow
abashed and more than willing to stan
corrected in any field entered by Miss Va
Vetter; but Constance took up the cudgelon the other side.
"You make me exceedingly weary, you
wo," she said, with seraphic sweetness"Neither of you knows what you ar
alking about half the time, and when yo
do, it isn't worth telling. Now listen to m
while I show you how ridiculous yoare,"—Bartrow sat down on a flat-toppe
boulder, and made a dumb show o
stopping his ears,—"I contend that nearl
every one of these poor prospectoryou've been maligning is a perfec
monument of unselfishness. He is workin
and starving and hoping and enduring fo
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somebody else in nine cases out of ten. It'
a wife, or a family, or an old father o
mother, or the mortgage on the farm, o
some other good thing."
Myra made a snowball and threw it a
Connie the eloquent. "I think El Reposo i
misnamed," she contended. "It ought to bcalled the Mount of Perversity. Mr
Bartrow, you are sitting upon the table
which is very undignified. Please mov
and let us see what Wun Ling has stowedaway in the haversack."
They spread their luncheon on the flat
opped boulder, and fell upon it like thhungry wayfarers that they were, calling i
a sky banquet, and drinking Wun Ling'
health in a bottle of cold tea. With satiety
came thoughts of the descent, and Myr
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pleaded piteously for a change of route.
"I shall never get down the way w
came up in the wide, wide world,—noalive," she asserted. "With the view i
prospect, I believe I could climb th
Matterhorn; but getting down is quit
another matter. Can't we go around somother way?"
Bartrow thought it possible; but sinc
Miss Van Vetter had particularly desiredo stand upon the summit of a hithert
unexplored peak, he was not sure.
"But we can try," said Myra. "At th
worst we can come back and creep dow
he way we came up."
Bartrow glanced at his watch, an
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focused the field-glass on a diaphanou
cloud slipping stealthily across th
serrated summits of the main range awa
o the westward.
"Yes, we can do that, if we have time,
he assented. "But I'm a little afraid of th
weather. That cloud may miss us bwenty miles; and then again, it may take
straight shoot across the valley and mak
us very wet and uncomfortable."
Constance came to the rescue with
compromise.
"You go and prospect for a new trail
Dick, and we'll stay here. If you find on
you can come back for us, and if you don
we'll be fresh for the scramble down th
other way."
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Bartrow said it was well, an
mmediately set about putting th
suggestion into effect. When he was fairl
out of sight over the curvature of EReposo's mighty shoulder, Myra said:—
"He's good, isn't he?"
"He is a man among men, Myra; a ma
o tie to, as we say here in Colorado."
They were sitting together on the fla
boulder, and Miss Van Vetter stole a side
glance at her cousin's profile. "You have
known him a long time, haven't you
Connie?"
"Almost ever since I can remember
'm Colorado-born, you know, and he isn't
but he came across the plains in the day
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of the ox-teams, when he was a littl
fellow, and the first work he ever did wa
for poppa, when we lived on the ranc
below Golden."
"He is a self-made man, isn't he?"
"Don't say that, Myra, please. I hate th
word. God makes us, and circumstance
or our own foolishness mar us. But Dic
s self-educated, so far as he is educate
at all. He was a homeless waif when hfirst saw the Rockies. His father died i
he middle of the trip across the plains
and his mother lived only long enough t
have her grave dug some two hundremiles farther west. The others took care o
Dick and brought him along with them t
Colorado because there wasn't anythin
else to do; and since, Dick has made hi
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own way, doing any honest thing that cam
o his hand."
"He couldn't do the other kind," Myraverred. "But you spoke of his educatio
as if he hadn't any. I suppose that was on
of your 'exuberances,' as Uncle Stephe
calls them. Mr. Bartrow is certainlanything but illiterate."
"No, he isn't that, though he has n
education of the kind you effete peoplhave in mind when you spell the wor
with a capital—the kind with a Greek
etter-badge and college-yell attachment
f you should tell him you had been tBryn Mawr, he would probably take it to
be some summer resort he hadn't heard of
But that isn't saying he is stupid. He coul
give the man with the yell a lot o
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nformation on a good many subjects
Poppa says he was always an earnest littl
ad; always reading everything he coul
get hold of—which wasn't very much ihe early days, as you may imagine."
"Nevertheless, he seems to be gettin
on in the world," said Miss Van Vetter"Your father says the Little Myriad is a
promising mine."
There was more pathos than mirth ihe smile which flitted across Connie'
face.
"You're new among us yet, Myra
Everything with mineral in it is promisin
o us; we are cranks pure and simple, o
hat subject. The Little Myriad i
promising, of course,—there isn't a
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unpromising mine in the State, for tha
matter,—but it's only a promise, as yet. I
Dick should reach the end of his hundre
and fifty feet of development withoustriking pay, he would be a ruined man."
"Why couldn't he keep on until h
should strike it?"
"For the very simple reason that he i
working on borrowed capital; and
happen to know that he has borroweabout all he can."
"But he believes in the success of th
venture, absolutely."
"Of course he does; that is one of th
conditions. It's merely a question of credi
with him. If any one would lend, Dic
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would go on borrowing and digging unti
he struck pay-ore or came out on the othe
side of the mountain—and then he'd thin
he hadn't gone deep enough. That is thpathetic side of his character; he neve
knows when he's beaten."
"I should call it the heroic side."
"It is heroic, but it is pathetic, too. It i
sure to bring him trouble, sooner or later
and Dick isn't one to take trouble lightlyHe'll go on fighting and struggling lon
after the battle has become hopeless, an
hat makes the sting of defeat so muc
sharper. It makes me want to cry when hink what a terrible thing it would be fo
him if the Little Myriad should go back o
ts promise."
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Miss Van Vetter took the field-glass
and stood up to watch the storm clou
which was now spreading gradually an
creeping slowly down the slopes of thdivide. "You think a great deal of Mr
Bartrow, don't you, Connie?"
"Indeed I do; he comes next to poppwith me."
For so long a time as one might take i
saying a little prayer at a needful crisisMyra gave her undivided attention to th
fleecy blur slipping down the side of th
main range. Then the strain on her eye
filled them with tears, and she put thglass back into its case. Constance saw
he tears.
"Why, Myra! you're crying. What is th
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matter?"
"I'm lonesome and homesick, and
ong for the flesh-pots of Denver; but iwas the glass that made me cry. Connie
dear, don't you think we'd better be goin
back to town?"
"Why, yes; if you are quite ready. But i
will be a disappointment for Dick. He i
counting on another week, at least."
"Yes, I know; and that is why I think
we ought to go. We are keeping him from
his work in the mine, and his time i
precious."
"Rather more so than he gives us t
understand, I fancy," Constance assented
"I suppose you are right, Myra,—we ough
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not to stay; but you'll have to tax you
ngenuity to find an excuse that will hol
water. Dick won't be satisfied with a P. P
C. card."
"Perhaps the chapter of accidents wil
help us. If it doesn't, you must make you
father remember that he has urgenbusiness in Denver which won't wai
Can't you manage it that way?"
"If I can't, I'll ring you in. Poppa woulake passage for Honolulu to-morrow if h
had an idea that you'd like to see th
Kanakas ride surf-boards."
"I should much rather not appear in it,
said Myra; and then, with truly feminin
nconsistency, "I don't know why I sa
hat. On the whole, perhaps you'd bette
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say that it's my proposal. Then Mr
Bartrow will set it down to the vagarie
of a flighty migrant, and he won't hol
spite against his old friends."
Connie the wise began to wonder i
here were unplumbed depths in he
cousin,—depths which Bartrow'defenseless obviousness had stirred to hi
sparing; but she drove the thought out a
unworthy. Myra had been kind to Dick
certainly, but she had never encouragedhim. There might well be an accepte
over in the dim Philadelphia backgroun
for aught Myra had said or done to evinc
he contrary. In which case—Connie thwise became Connie the pitiful in th
urning of a leaf—poor Dick! At tha
moment, as if the sympathetic thought ha
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evoked him, Bartrow came in sight on th
ower slope of the summit. He wa
breathing hard when he reached them.
"We can make it all right," he said
slinging the glass and the haversack, "bu
t'll add three or four miles. It's
roundabout way, and it will take us intohe head of Little Myriad Gulch. If you'r
ready we'll get a quick move. That stor
s heading straight for us, and we'll be i
uck if we don't come in for a soaking."
El Reposo is a bald mountain, and it
onsure is fringed with a heavy fores
growth which stops abruptly at timberine. Halfway to the head of the gulch th
new trail ended in a tangle of fallen trees
—the débris of an ancient snowslide,—
and much valuable time was lost i
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skirting the obstacle. Bartrow glance
over his shoulder from time to time, an
finally said, "There it comes, with
vengeance!"
The exclamation was ill-timed. Myr
urned and stopped to watch the fleec
curtain of vapor shrouding the great balsummit they had just quitted. Bartrow
sought to possess his soul in patience.
"Isn't it grand!" she said, with kindlinenthusiasm.
"Yes; grand and wet. If you'll excuse
me, Miss Myra, I think we'd better run fo
t."
They ran for it accordingly, Connie in
he lead like the free-limbed daughter o
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he altitudes that she was, and Bartrow
and Miss Van Vetter hand in hand like
oyous children for whom self
consciousness is not. From the beginninof the wild race down the slopes th
wetting seemed momentarily imminen
none the less, they managed to reach th
gulch dryshod. Inasmuch as their coursdown the ravine was in a direction nearl
opposite to the sweep of the wind, it soo
ook them beyond the storm zone, and the
stopped to listen to the echoes of nature'
battle reverberating from the crags of th
higher levels. The writhing of the grea
firs in the grasp of the wind came to theiears like the clashing of miniatur
breakers on a tideless shore; and th
booming of the thunder was minified b
he rare atmosphere into a sound no
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unlike the distant firing of cannon. Whil
hey paused, Myra climbed to the top of
water-worn boulder in the bed of th
ravine to get a better point of view, andfrom this elevation she could see th
forest at the head of the gulch.
"Oh, Connie!" she cried, "climb uhere, quick! It's a cyclone!"
Bartrow threw up his head like
startled animal. There was a steady roan the air which was not of the thunder.
"Cyclone nothing!" he yelled. "It's
cloud-burst! Stay where you are, for you
ife, Miss Myra!"
Even as he spoke the roar deepene
until the vibration of it shook the soli
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earth, and a dark mass of water, turbid an
débris-laden, shot from the head of th
gulch and swept down the ravine. Bartrow
ived an anguished lifetime in an instant ohesitation. To save the woman he loved
was to sacrifice Constance. To help
Connie first was to take the desperat
chance that Myra would be safe till hcould reach her.
There was no time for the nic
weighing of possibilities; and RicharBartrow was a man of action before al
else. Winding an arm about Constance, h
dashed out of the ravine with her, gettin
back to Myra three seconds in advance ohe boulder-laden flood. There was tim
enough, but none to spare. A tree gave him
an anchorage on the bank above her; sh
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sprang toward him at the word o
command; and he plucked her up out of th
reach of the foaming torrent whic
snapped at her and overturned the grearock upon which she had been standing.
After which narrow escape they sa
ogether on the slope of safety anwatched the subsiding flood, laughin
over the "stampede," as Connie called it
with all the reckless hardihood of yout
and good spirits.
"I wouldn't have missed seeing it fo
anything in the world," declared th
enthusiast. "I had plenty of time to get ouof the way, but I couldn't help waiting to
see how it would look, coming over tha
ast cliff up there."
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"Dick didn't give me a chance to se
anything," Connie complained. "H
whisked me out of the way as if I'd been
naughty little girl caught playing with thfire."
Bartrow examined the field-glass t
see if it had suffered in the scramble. Iwas unbroken, and he put it back into th
case with a sigh of relief.
"If you two had smashed that glasbetween you, I don't know what I shoul
have done," he said; whereat they al
aughed again and took up the line o
march for the mine.
That evening, after supper, the four o
hem were on the porch of the three
roomed cabin, enjoying the sunse
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Constance had spoken to her father abou
he return to Denver, and Stephen Elliot
was racking his brain for some excus
reasonable enough to satisfy Bartrowwhen a man came up the trail from th
direction of Alta Vista. It was Bryant, the
station agent; and he was the bearer of
elegram addressed to Constance. Shread it and gave it to Bartrow. Th
operator had taken it literally, and it was
small study in phonetics.
"Shees gaun an got inter trubbel.
P. Grims swipt her masheen. Wot
shel I do.
"T. Reagan."
Bartrow smiled and handed th
message back. "That's Tommie, I take it
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What's it about?"
"It's a young woman I've been trying t
help. They are persecuting her again, an'll have to go back as quickly as I can."
"That's bad," said Bartrow; bu
Connie's father looked greatly relieved
and, filling his pipe, began to burn incens
o the kindly god of chance.
After a time, Bartrow asked, "When?"
Connie's gaze was on the sunset, bu
her thoughts were miles away in a humbl
cottage in West Denver where she had
hought Margaret would be safely hiddefrom the spoiler.
"I think we'd better go now—to-nigh
You can flag the train at the mine switch
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can't you?"
"Yes."
"And you can get ready, can't youMyra?"
"Certainly; it won't take me long t
pack. If you'll excuse me I'll go and do inow, and get it off my mind."
When Myra had gone in, Bartrow too
he message and read it again. "This is nwoman's job," he objected. "Let me g
down with you and straighten it out."
"No, you mustn't, Dick; you have lost clear week as it is."
She rose and went to the end of th
porch, whither he presently followed her
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"You'll need a man," he insisted.
"I shall have poppa."
"Yes, but he's no good—only to pay thbills."
"No matter; I shall get along all right."
"That's straight, is it?"
"Yes, I mean it."
"All right; you're the doctor. But youmust wire me if you need me."
An hour later the visitors had sai
good-by to Bartrow and the Little Myriadand were on their way down the canyon i
he miniature sleeping-car. Myra pleaded
weariness and had her berth made dow
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early. Nevertheless, she lay awake far int
he night gazing out at the rotating heaven
and the silent procession of peaks an
precipices. For a background the shiftinscene held two irrelevant pictures; one
freshly etched, reproducing the littl
drama of the cloud-burst; the other
memory of something she had read,—story in which a man, two women, a
overturned boat, and a storm-lashed lak
figured as the persons and properties.
"He knew which he loved—which t
save first—when the crux came," she sai
softly to her pillow, "and the other gir
was fortunate not to have drowned." Andat that moment a certain well-to-d
gentleman of middle age in a far-away cit
on the Atlantic seaboard was nearer th
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goal of his wishes than he had ever bee
before.
In the mean time, Bartrow had anspiration which was importunate enoug
o send him afoot to Alta Vista in the wake
of the swinging passenger train. It foun
voice in a mandatory telegram tLansdale, telling him to call at once upo
Miss Constance Elliott, to present th
message as his credential, and to plac
himself at her service in any requirecapacity, from man-at-arms to attorney-at
aw.
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CHAPTER XIII
In his westward sweep over th
Titanic playground of farther Colorado
he sun looks down into a narrow valle
hrough which tumbles a brawling strea
whose waters, snow-born within rifle
shot, go to swell the canyoned flood of th
Gunnison River. Fir-clad mountainssombre green to timber-line and fallow
dun or dazzling white above it, accordin
o the season, stand like a cordon o
mighty sentinels around and about; and thfoot of civilized man treading the sward o
he park-like valley must first hav
measured many weary miles of th
mountain wilderness.
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Notwithstanding its apparen
naccessibility, and its remoteness fro
any hoof-worn trail, the valley had onc
been inhabited. The evidences were rude log cabin, with its slab door hangin
by a single leathern hinge, buttressing
weathered cliff on the western bank of th
stream; and, in the opposing mountaislope, a timbered opening bearded with
gray dump of débris, marking the entranc
o a prospect tunnel.
Cabin and tunnel were both th
handiwork of James Garvin. On one of hi
many prospecting tours he had penetrate
o the shut-in valley; and finding a promisof mineral deposits in the slopes of th
sentinel mountains, had gone int
permanent camp and driven the prospec
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unnel into the rocky hillside. When he ha
done something more than th
development work necessary to hold th
claim, two things conspired to drive hiforth of the valley. His provisions ra
ow; and the indications in the tunne
which had pointed to a silver-bearing lod
of graphic tellurium, changed suddenly aa "dike" in the strata, and disappeare
altogether.
Garvin was a stubborn man, and thoxin of the prospector's fever was in hi
blood. Wherefore he put himself upo
siege rations and delved against time
When he had baked his last skillet opanbread and fired his last charge o
dynamite in the heading, the dike was stil
unpenetrated. After that, there was nothin
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for it but retreat; and he reluctantly brok
camp and left the valley, meaning to retur
when he could.
Two years elapsed and the opportunity
still tarried; but Garvin kept the shut-i
valley in mind, and it was thitherward h
urned his face when Stephen Elliott'iberal "grub-stake," and the hastil
formed partnership with Jeffard, provide
he means and the help necessary to sink
shaft.
It was in the afternoon of a cloudles
August day that Jeffard had his firs
glimpse of the park-like valley lying in thap of the sentinel mountains. The air wa
crisp and thin-edged with the keen breat
of the altitudes, but the untempered heat o
he sun beat pitilessly upon the heads o
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he two men picking their laborious wa
over the rock-ribbed shoulder of the leas
precipitous mountain.
"Well, pardner, we've riz the last o' the
hills," quoth Garvin, stepping aside to le
he burro, with its jangling burden of camp
utensils and provisions, precede him"How d'you stack up by this time?"
Jeffard's tongue clave to the roof of hi
mouth. Frantic plunges into the nethedepths are not conducive to good health
moral or physical, and nature wa
exacting the inevitable penalty. For thre
days he had been fighting a losing battlwith an augmenting army of ills, and bu
for the rough heartening of his companio
he would have fallen by the wayside mor
han once during the breath-cutting marc
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over the mountain passes. Wherefore hi
answer to Garvin's question was th
babblement of despair.
"I'm a dead man, Garvin. You'll only
have me to bury if you persist in draggin
me any farther. I'm done, I tell you."
Garvin stroked his stubbly chin and hi
his concern under a ferocious scowl.
"No, you ain't done, not by a long sho
You needn't to think I'm goin' to let you
play off on me that-a-way—with th
promised land cuddlin' down yonder i
hat gulch a-waitin' for us. Not much
Mary Ann. You're goin' to twist the crank
o' that there win'lass a-many a time afor
you get shut o' me."
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The burro wagged one ear and sat upo
ts haunches preparatory to a perilou
slide down a steep place in the trail
Garvin saved the pack by darting forwarand anchoring both beast and burden b
main strength. While the big man wa
wrestling with the burro, Jeffard stumble
and fell, rose wavering to his knees anfell again, this time with his teeth set t
stifle a groan. Garvin threw the pack
animal with dexterous twitch of it
foreleg, and hoppled it with a turn of th
ariat before going back to Jeffard.
"Now then, up you come," he said
rying to stand Jeffard upon his feet; buhe sick man collapsed inertly and san
down again.
"Let me alone," he enjoined, in
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sudden transport of feeble truculence. "
old you I was done, and I am. Can't yo
go about your business and leave a man t
die in peace?"
"Oh, you be damned," retorted Garvi
cheerfully. "All you need is a little mor
sand. Get up and mog along now, 'fore run shy o' patience and thump th
everlastin' daylights out o' you." And h
stooped again and slipped his arm unde
Jeffard's shoulders.
The sick man's head rocked from sid
o side. "Don't," he groaned, this time i
gentler protest. "I'd do it if I could—ionly for your sake. But it isn't in me; I'v
been dying on my feet for the last thre
hours. I couldn't drag myself another step
f the gates of Heaven stood open dow
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yonder and all hell were yapping at m
heels. Go on and leave me to fight it out
You can come back to-morrow and cove
up what the buzzards have left."
Garvin straightened up and drew th
back of his hand across his eyes.
"Listen at him!" he broke out, in a fin
frenzy of simulated rage. "Just listen at th
fool idjit talk, will you? And me standin
over him a-pleadin' like a suckin' doveBy crucifer! if it wasn't for throwin' awa
good ammynition, I'd plug him one just fo
his impidence—blame my skin if
wouldn't!" And being frugal of hicartridges, Garvin flung himself upon th
prostrate burro, dragged it to its feet, cas
he jangling burden, pack-saddle and al
and lifted Jeffard astride of the diminutiv
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mount.
"There you are," he said, with gruf
enderness. "Now then, just lop your heaon my shoulder and lay back ag'inst m
arm, and play you was a-coastin' down th
hill back o' the old schoolhouse on
greazed streak o' lightnin', with your bibrother a-holdin' you on. We'll make i
pretty middlin' quick, now, if the canar
don't peg out." And thus they mad
entrance into the shut-in valley, and wonacross it to the log cabin whose door hun
slantwise by the single hinge.
Then and there began a grim fight fohe life of a man, with an untutored son o
he solitudes, lacking everything but th
will to do, pitted against a fierce attack o
mountain fever which was aided an
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abetted by the devitalizing effects o
Jeffard's hard apprenticeship to evil. I
he end the indomitable will of the nurse
rather than any conscious effort on the parof the patient, won the battle. Garvi
cursed his luck and swore pathetically a
day after day of the short mountai
summer came and went unmarked by anpick-blow on the slopes of the mountain
of promise; but his care of the sick ma
was unremitting, and he was brutall
ender and wrathfully soft-hearted by turn
until Jeffard was well beyond the dange
ine.
It was a lambent evening in the finaweek of August when Garvin carried th
fever-wasted convalescent to the door o
he cabin and propped him in a rusti
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chair builded for the occasion.
"How's that?" he demanded, standin
back to get the general effect of man anchair. "Ain't I a jack-leg carpenter, al
right? Now you just brace up and swalle
all the outdoors you can hold while
smoke me a pipe."
He sat down on the doorstep and fille
and lighted his pipe. After a few deep
drawn whiffs, he said, "Don't tire yonone to be a-settin' up, does it?"
"No." Jeffard turned slowly and sniffe
he pungent fragrance of the burnin
obacco with a vague return of the ol
craving. "Have you another pipe?" h
queried. "I believe I'd enjoy a whiff o
wo with you."
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"Now just listen at that, will you?
Garvin growled, masking his joy under
ransparent affectation of disgust. "M
akin' care of him like he was a newborned baby, and him a-settin' there, coo
as a blizzard, askin' for a pipe! If I wasn
a bloomin' angel, just waitin' for my wing
o sprout, I'd tell him to go to blazes, that'about what I'd do."
None the less, he went in and found
clean corncob, filling it and giving it tJeffard with a lighted match. Th
convalescent smoked tentatively for a few
minutes, pausing longer between th
whiffs until the fire and the tobaccohunger died out together. After which he
said what was in his mind.
"Garvin, old man, you must begin wor
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o-morrow," he began. "I can take care o
myself now, and in a few days I hope I'l
be able to take hold with you. You've los
oo much time tinkering with me. I'm noworth it."
"We'll find out about that when we ge
you on to the crank o' that win'lass," saiGarvin sententiously. "Man's a good dea
ike a horse,—vallyble accordin' t
ocation. They tell me that back in God'
country, where I was raised, horses ainworth their winter keep since the 'lectri
cars come in; but out yere I've seen th
ime when a no-account, gristly littl
bronco, three parts wire and five partpure cussedness, 'u'd a-been worth hi
weight in bullion."
Jeffard picked the application out o
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he parable, and smiled.
"You've got your bronco," he asserted
"When you're a little better acquaintewith me you'll find your definition isn't fa
wrong. I used to think I was a halfwa
decent sort of fellow, Garvin, but
believe the last few months have flaileall the whole wheat out of me, leavin
nothing but the musty chaff."
"Oh, you be hanged!" laughed Garvinwith the emphasis heartening. "You're of
your feed a few lines yet and your bloo
needs thickenin', that's all. I'll risk bu
what you'll assay up to grade in the millrun."
Silence came and sat between them fo
a little space, holding its own unti
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Jeffard's eye lighted upon the débris
bearded tunnel-opening in the opposit
hillside.
"What is that?" he asked, pointing th
query with an emaciated finger.
"That's my old back number that I wa
ellin' you about on the way in," Garvi
explained. "I thought I'd struck a lead o
ellurides up there, sure, but it petered ou
on me."
"When was that?" Jeffard'
recollection of all things connected wit
he fever-haunted jornada across th
ranges was misty and fragmentary.
"Two year ago this summer," rejoined
he miner; and filling his pipe afresh h
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retold the story of his earlier visit to th
valley.
"It's a dead horse," he added, by waof conclusion. "I ought to knowed better
'm old enough at the business to savv
ellurides when I see 'em, and that lea
never did look right from the start."
"Did you ever locate it?" aske
Jeffard.
"Not much! I never got any furder alon
hat-a-way than to stake it off and make
map of it." Garvin found a pack o
humbed and grimy papers in his pocke
and worked his way through it till he cam
upon the map. "You're an engineer," he
said: "how's that for a jack-leg entr
map?"
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Jeffard examined the rude sketch an
pronounced it good enough; after which h
folded the paper absently and put it in hi
pocket. Garvin did not notice his failure treturn it,—if, indeed, he thought or care
anything further about it,—and went o
alking of his own unwisdom in driving
unnel on a lode which did not "looright."
"We'll know better, this trip," he
asserted, as somewhat of a salve to thformer hurt. "We'll go higher up the gulch
and sink a shaft; that's about what we'l
do."
And this, in the fullness of time, wa
what they did. After a few days, Jeffard
was able to inch his way by easy stages t
he new location; and by the time Garvi
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had dug and blasted himself into a squar
pit windlass-deep, the convalescent wa
strong enough to take his place at the hoist
From the very first, Jeffard was totall
unable to share Garvin's enthusiastic fait
n the possibilities of the new cast fo
fortune. Ignorant of the first principles opractical metal-digging, he was, none th
ess, a fairly good laboratory metallurgist
while Garvin, on the other hand, knew
naught of man's, but much of nature'sbook. Hence there arose many discussion
over the possibilities; Jeffard contendin
hat the silver-bearing lodes of the valle
were not rich enough to bear pack-trairansportation to the nearest railway point
and Garvin clinging tenaciously to th
prospectors' theory that a "true-fissure
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vein must of necessity prove a ver
Golconda once you had gone deep enoug
nto its storehouse.
When all was said, the man of th
aboratory won a barren victory. At thirty
feet the lode in the shaft had dwindled to
few knife-blade seams, and the last shofired in the bottom of the excavation put a
end to the work of exploitation by lettin
n a flood of water. Since they had no
means of draining the shaft so suddenlransformed into a well, Garvin gav
over, perforce, but proposed trying thei
uck elsewhere in the valley befor
seeking a new field. Jeffard acquiescedwith the suggestion that they save time b
prospecting in different directions; an
his they did, Garvin taking the upper hal
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of the valley and Jeffard the lower. At the
end of a week, Jeffard gave up in disgust
and when his companion begged for ye
one other day, was minded to stay in campand invite his soul in idleness until th
persevering one should be convinced.
As a matter of course, Garvin's damultiplied itself by three, and Jeffar
wore out the interval as best he might
ramping the hillsides in the vicinity of th
cabin to kill time, and smoking uncountepipes on the doorstep in the cool of th
day while waiting for Garvin's return.
It was in the pipe-smoking interregnuof the third day that the abandoned tunne
n the opposite hillside beckoned to him
Oddly enough, he thought, Garvin ha
never referred to it since the retelling o
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ts history in the reminiscent pauses o
heir first outdoor evening together
Jeffard's eye measured the dum
appraisively. It was a monument to thheroic perseverance of the solitar
prospector.
"That hole must be thirty or forty feento the hill," he mused. "And to think o
his worrying it out alone!" Here idl
curiosity nudged him with its blunt elbow
and he rose and knocked the ashes frohis pipe. "I believe I'll go up and have
ook at it. It'll kill another half-hour or so
and they're beginning to die rather hard."
He crossed the stream on Garvin'
ancient foot-log, and clambered leisurel
o the toe of the dump. The snows of tw
winters had washed the detritus free o
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soil, and Jeffard bent, hand on knee, t
ook for specimens of the ore-bearin
rock.
"Gangue-rock, most of it, with
sprinkling of decomposed quartz along a
he last," he said reflectively. "The quart
was the dike he struck, I suppose. He wawise to give it up. There's no silver in tha
stuff."
He picked up a bit of the snuff-colorerock and crumbled it in his hand. It wa
quite friable, like weathered sandstone
but when the fragment was crushed th
particles still clung together as if mattewith invisible threads. Jeffard was to
new to the business of metal-hunting t
suspect the tremendous significance of th
small phenomenon, but he was sufficientl
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curious to gather a double handful of th
fragments of quartz, meaning to ask Garvi
f he had noticed the peculiarity. And
when he had climbed to the tunnel anexplored it to its rock-littered heading b
he light of a sliver splintered from one o
he pitchy logs of the timbering, h
sauntered back to the cabin beneath thwestern cliff and made a fire over whic
o prepare supper against Garvin's return.
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CHAPTER XIV
Garvin came into camp late, an
Jeffard needed not to ask the result of th
day's quest. He had cooked the simpl
supper, and they ate it together in silenc
—the big man too weary and dejected t
alk, and Jeffard holding his peace i
deference to Garvin's mood. Over thpipes on the doorstep Jeffard permitte
himself a single query.
"No go?"
"Nary," was the laconic rejoinder.
Jeffard was the least demonstrative o
men, but the occasion seemed to ask fo
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something more than sympathetic silence
So he said: "It's hard luck; harder for yo
han for me, I imagine. Somehow, I haven
been able to catch the inspiration of thmineral-hunt; but you have, and you'v
worked hard and earned a better send
off."
"Huh! far as earnin' goes, I reckon it's
stand-off 'twixt the two of us. You've
certain'y done your share o' the pullin' an
haulin', if you have been sort o' like whahe boys call a 'hoodoo.'"
Jeffard blew a cloud of smoke towar
he gray rock-beard hanging ghostlbeneath the black mouth of the excavatio
n the opposite hillside, and was far fro
aking offense. "Meaning that I haven
been enthusiastic enough to fill the bill?
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he asked.
"I guess that's about it. And it alway
seemed sort o' cur'ous to me. Money'd dyou a mighty sight more good than i
would me."
Jeffard smoked his pipe out, debatin
with himself whether it was worth whil
o try to explain his indifference to hi
companion. He did try, finally, though
more for the sake of putting the fact intwords than in any hope of making i
understandable to Garvin.
"I'm afraid it isn't in me to care ver
much about anything," he said, at the en
of the reflective excursion. "Six month
ago I could have come out here with yo
and given you points on enthusiasm; bu
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since then I've lived two or thre
ifetimes. I'm a very old man, Garvin. On
day, not so very long ago, if you measur
by weeks and months, I was young anstrong and hopeful, like other men; bu
nstead of burning the candle decently a
he proper end, I made a bonfire of it. Th
fire has gone out now, and I haven't another candle."
The big prospector was good-naturedl
ncredulous. "You've had the fever, andyou're rattled, yet; that's all that's th
matter with you. You've been flat down on
your luck, like one or two of the rest of us
but that ain't any reason why you can't geup ag'in, is it?"
Jeffard despaired of making it clear t
any simple-hearted son of the wilderness
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but he must needs try again.
"That is your view of the case, and i
would be that of others who knew thcircumstances as well as you do. But i
doesn't fit the individual. David said h
would wash his hands in innocency, and
perhaps he could, and did—though I doubt. I can't. When you picked me up tha
night on the shore of the pond, I'd bee
wandering around in the bottomless pi
and had lost my way. I knew then shouldn't find it again, and I haven't.
seem to have strayed into a regio
somewhere beyond the place where th
actual brimstone chokes you; but it's barren desert where nothing seems quit
he same as it used to—where nothing i
he same, as a matter of fact. Do I make i
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plain?"
"You bet you don't," responded Garvin
out of the depths of cheerful density"You've been a mile or two out o' my
reach for the last half-hour 'r so. Ther
ain't no use a-cryin' over spilt milk, i
what I say; and when I go kerflummixwhy, I just cuss a few lines and get up and
mog along, same as heretofore."
Jeffard laughed, but there was no mirtn him.
"I envy you; you are a lucky man to b
able to do it. I wish in my soul I could."
"What's the reason you can't?"
"That is precisely what I haven't bee
able to make you understand. But the fac
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remains. The Henry Jeffard my mothe
knew is dead and buried. In his place ha
arisen a man who is acquainted with evi
and is skeptical about most other thingsGarvin, if you knew me as well as I know
myself, you'd run me out of this valle
with a gun before you slept. I owe you a
heavy a debt of gratitude as any one maever owed another, and yet if your welfar
stood between the beginning and the en
of some devil's service in which I migh
be commissioned, you wouldn't be safe t
sleep in the same cabin with me."
"Oh, you be damned," said the big man
relapsing into a deeper depth oncredulity. "You've got a devil 'r two, al
right, maybe, but they're the blue kind, an
hey'll soak out in the washin'. Fact o' th
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matter is, our cussed luck in this yere hol
n the ground has struck in on you worse'
t has on me. You'll be all right when we
get some place else and strike it rich."
Jeffard refilled his pipe and gave ove
rying to define himself in set terms. Whe
next he broke silence it was to speak ohe impending migration.
"I suppose we pull out in the morning?
he said.
"Might as well. We've played the
string out up yere. Besides, summer'
gone, and a month of fall, and the grub'
runnin' shy."
"Where next?" inquired Jeffard.
"I dunno, hardly. 'Tain't worth while to
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strike furder in, this late in the season
We've got to be makin' tracks along back
'wards the valley afore the snow comes
and that'll be pretty quick now. What dyou say to tryin' some o' the gulches o' th
Mosquito?"
"Anywhere you say. I'm with you—iyou care to take me after what I've tried t
ell you. But you'd much better go alone
You had it right a while ago; you have
yoked yourself to a Jonah."
"Jonah nothin'!" growled the soft
hearted giant. "Nex' time I set out to devi
you, I'll drill a hole aforehand and put in pinch o' dannymite along with the joke
Then when I tech it off, you'll know."
The moon was riding high in the blac
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arch of the sky, and the gray dump on th
opposite mountain stood out in bold relief
Jeffard rose and leaned against th
doorpost.
"Garvin, you have never yet told m
who staked us for this trip," he said
broaching a subject which had more thaonce asked for speech.
The miner laughed. "You never asked
t's the same old man that staked me whewas yere the first time."
"When you dug that hole up yonder i
he hill?"
"Um—hm."
"Who is he?"
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Garvin hesitated. "I had a fool notion
wouldn't tell you till we'd struck somethin
worth while," he said finally. "If so b
we've got to go back with our fingers iour mouths, I put it up that maybe you'
feel easier in your mind if you didn
know. You're so cussed thin-skinned abou
some things that a feller has to watch oufor you continnyus."
Jeffard dug the kindly intention out o
he upbraiding, and forebore to press thquestion. After all, what did it matter
Whatever befell, he was under n
obligations to any one save Garvin. And
n the itemizing of that debt, an obligatiowhich made him restive every time h
hought of it, he lost sight of the questio
he had intended asking about th
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peculiarity of the snuff-colored rock in th
abandoned tunnel.
A little later, Garvin got up with amighty yawn, and said: "If we're goin' t
get out o' here afore noon to-morrer,
reckon we'd better be huntin' us a littl
sleep."
"Turn in if you like; I'm not sleepy yet,
said Jeffard; and when Garvin was gon
n, he fell to pacing up and down beforhe cabin door with his hands behind hi
and the cold pipe between his teeth.
To what good end had he been
preserved by Garvin's interference on tha
night of despair two months before? Ha
he reprieve opened up any practicabl
way out of the cynical labyrinth into whic
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he had wandered? Had his immens
obligation to the prospector quickened an
fibre of the dead sense of huma
responsibility, or lighted any fire ogenerous love for his kind?
He shook his head. To none of these
questions could he honestly append aaffirmative. In the desolate wreck he ha
made of his life no good thing ha
survived save his love for Constanc
Elliott. That, indeed, was hopeless on thside of fruition; but he clung to it as th
one clue of promise, hoping, and yet no
daring to hope, that it might one day lea
him out of the wilderness of indifferenceWhile he dwelt upon it, pacing back an
forth in the moonlight, he recalled hi
picture of her standing in the dust-filtere
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afternoon sunlight, with the dim corrido
for a background.
"God keep you, my darling. I may noook upon your face again, but the memor
of your loving kindness to one soul-sic
castaway will live while he lives."
He said it reverently, turning his fac
oward the far-away city beyond the foot
hills; and there was no subtle sense o
divination to tell him that, at an unmappeside-track on the farther slope of th
southernmost sentinel mountain, Bartrow
was at that moment handing Constanc
Elliott up the steps of a diminutivsleeping-car which was presently to g
urching and swaying on its way down th
mountain in the wake of a pygm
ocomotive. Nor could he know that,
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few hours earlier, the far-seeing gra
eyes, out of whose depths he had onc
drawn courage and inspiration and th
will to do good, had rested for a momenon the shut-in valley.
For the southward sentinel mountai
was known to the dwellers on its fartheslopes as El Reposo.
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CHAPTER XV
Robert Lansdale, literary starvelin
and doomed victim of an incurabl
malady, was yet sufficiently unchastened
o read Bartrow's telegram with the nerve
of reluctance sharp set. For what h
persuaded himself were good an
defensible reasons, he had lived the life oan urban hermit in Denver, arguing that
poverty-smitten crumb-gatherer with on
foot in the grave might properly refuse t
be other than an onlooker in any scene ohe human comedy.
The prompting was not altogethe
unselfish. In common with other craftsme
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of his guild, Lansdale was blessed, o
banned, with a moiety of the seer's gif
For him, as for all who can discern th
masks and trappings and the sham stageproperties, the world-comedy had becom
pitifully tragic; and he was by natur
compassionate and sympathetic
Wherefore he spared himself the personapoint of view, cultivating an aloofnes
which his few friends were prone t
miscall cynicism and exclusiveness.
Lansdale knew Miss Elliott by repute
and he shrewdly suspected that she knew
all Bartrow could tell her about a certai
iterary pretender who had once been rudenough to send apologies to a hostess wh
had not invited him. None the les
Bartrow was too good a friend to b
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gnored in the day of his asking; an
Lansdale presented himself at the door o
he house in Colfax Avenue at an
unfashionably early hour, meaning tobegin by making the tender of his service
as nearly a matter of business as might be
It was Connie herself who met him ahe door and would hear no more than hi
name until he was established in he
father's easy-chair before the cheerful fir
n the library. Her welcome wahospitably cordial; and Lansdale, who ha
fondly imagined embarrassment to be on
of the foibles most deeply buried unde
he débris of the disillusioning yearsfound himself struggling with an attack o
ongue-tied abashment which is like to b
he penalty exacted of any hermit wh
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refuses to mix and mingle with his kind.
"I came to see you at the request of
friend of yours, and of mine, Miss Elliott,he began formally, fumbling in his pocke
for the telegram. "I have a message fro
Mr. Richard Bartrow which—will—
explain"—
The search and the sentence ravele
out together in the discovery that th
elegram which was to have been hintroduction had been left on the writing
able in his room. Connie saw
consternation in his face and made haste t
help him.
"From Mr. Bartrow? We have jus
returned from a visit to his mine up i
Chaffee County. Did he forget somethin
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hat he wanted to tell us, at the las
moment?"
"Really, I—I can't say," stammeredLansdale, to whom the loss of the telegra
was the dragging of the last anchor o
equanimity. "It appears that I wa
houghtless enough to leave the telegram imy room. Will you excuse me until I can
go back and fetch it?"
"Is it necessary?" Connie queried"Can't you tell me what he says?"
Lansdale pulled himself together an
gave her the gist of Bartrow's mandate
Miss Elliott's laugh made him forget hi
embarrassment.
"That is just like Dick," she said. "H
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offered to come down with us last night
but I wouldn't let him. You know Mr
Bartrow quite well, do you not?"
"Very well, indeed."
"Then you know how anxious h
always is to help his friends."
"No one has better cause to know; he i
one of the finest fellows in the world,
Lansdale rejoined warmly.
"Thank you, for Dick's sake," sai
Connie; "now we shall get on nicely. Bu
o go back a little: a young woman whom
have been trying to help is in somrouble, and Dick thought he might b
needed. It was out of the goodness of hi
heart. I really don't need any help—a
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east, not more than my father's check
book can answer for."
"Are you quite sure? You musremember that I am Richard Bartrow'
substitute, and make use of m
accordingly. May I know th
circumstances?"
Constance related them, telling hi
Margaret Gannon's story as only a siste
of mercy could tell it; without extenuatioor censure, and also withou
embarrassment. Lansdale listene
absorbedly, with the literary instinc
dominant. It was Margaret Gannon's storybut Constance Elliott was the heroine;
heroine worthy the pen of a maste
craftsman, he thought, while the creativ
part of him was busy with the pulling an
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hauling and scene-shifting which th
discovery of a Heaven-born central figur
sets in motion. But in the midst of it th
man got the better of the craftsman. Hforesaw with sudden clarity of insight tha
Miss Elliott would presently be of th
nner circle of those out of whom the mos
hardened votary of the pen cannot makcopy; those whose personality is sacre
because it is no longer a thing apart to b
dispassionately analyzed.
When she made an end, he sat lookin
at her so intently and so long that she grew
nervous. The light in his eyes made he
feel as if she were focused under thobject glass of a microscope. He saw th
enthusiasm die out of her face and giv
place to discomposure, and made eage
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apologies.
"Forgive me, Miss Elliott; I didn
mean to be rude. But I have never lookeupon your like before,—a woman i
whom the quality of mercy is not strained
whose charity is compassionate enough t
reach out to the unfortunate of her owsex."
Connie was too simple-hearted to b
self-conscious under commendation.
"That is because your opportunitie
have been unkind, I fancy. A few years
ago your criticism would have been ver
ust; but nowadays much of the rescu
work is done by women, as it should be."
"Much of the organized work, yes. Bu
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your own story proves that it has no
become individualized."
"That may well be the fault of thadvocate in Margaret's case," returne
Connie, whose charity was no
circumscribed. "If any one of the man
good women I have tried to enlist in thiyoung woman's cause had been the one t
discover her, I should doubtless have th
same story to tell, and quite possibly wit
a better sequel. But now you understanwhy I don't need help. Tommie—he's my
newsboy henchman, you know—has bee
here this morning to make his report. I
seems that when Margaret was taken sicshe was in debt to this man Grim fo
costumes, or railway fare, or something
and he has taken her sewing-machine t
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satisfy the claim."
The hectic flush in Lansdale's thi
cheek began to define itself, with a littlpulse throbbing in the centre of it.
"He is an iniquitous scoundrel, and h
ought to be prosecuted," he declared
"Don't you see?—but of course you don't
you are too charitable to suspect his rea
object, which is to drive the young woma
back into the service of his master, thdevil. He had no more legal right to tak
her sewing-machine than he would have t
attach the tools of a mechanic. Is there an
aw in Colorado?"
"Plenty of it," Connie rejoined; adding
with unconscious sarcasm, "but I think it i
chiefly concerned with disputes abou
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mining claims."
"Let us hope there is a statute or tw
over and above, for the protection oordinary mortals," said Lansdale, risin
and finding his hat. "I presume you mean
o buy Margaret another sewing-machine
You mustn't encourage buccaneering inany such way. Let me go and try m
powers of persuasion on Mr. Peter Grim.
But Connie was not unmindful of whaBartrow had told them about Lansdale's il
health, and she promptly disapproved.
"No, indeed, you mustn't, Mr
Lansdale; you mustn't think of doing an
such thing. You don't know the man. He is
a 'hold-over' desperado from the stage
ine days. Even Dick admits that he is
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person to be feared and avoided. And
besides, you're not strong, you know."
Lansdale smiled down upon her frohis gaunt height, and his heart warmed t
her in a way which was not to b
accounted for by the simple rule of th
humanities.
"Dick told you that, too, did he? I a
sorry."
"Why?"
"Because it involves your sympathy
and sympathy is much too precious to b
wasted upon such flotsam as I. But I aquite robust enough to see justice done i
his young woman's case. You mus
promise me not to move in it until yo
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hear from me."
Connie promised and let him go. But i
he stronger light of the hall she saw howreally ill he looked, and was remorsefull
repentant, after her kind.
Lansdale left the house in Colfa
Avenue with an unanalyzed sense o
evitation, which made him feel as thoug
he were walking upon air; but when h
had accounted for the phenomenon hcame to earth again with disheartenin
celerity. What had a man in whose daily
walk death was a visible presence to d
with the tumult of gladsome suggestioevoked by a few words of sympathy fro
a compassionate young woman with
winsome face and innocent eyes? Nothing
clearly, nothing whatever. Lansdale set hi
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eeth upon the word, and drove th
suggestion forth with sudden bitterness
His part in the little drama growing out o
Miss Elliott's deed of mercy was at besbut that of a supernumerary. When h
should have made his entrance and exit, h
must go the way of other supernumeraries
and be presently forgotten of the reaactors.
So ran the wise conclusion; but th
event leagued itself with unwisdom, anhe prudent forecasting gave place to th
apparent necessities. The preliminar
nterview with Grim was wholly abortive
The man of vice not only refused poinblank to make restitution, but evinced
readiness to take the matter into the court
which was most disconcerting to Margare
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Gannon's moneyless advocate. Thereupo
ensued other visits to the house in Colfa
Avenue, and a growing and confidentia
ntimacy with Constance, and the enlistinof Stephen Elliott in the cause of justice
and many other things not prefigured i
Lansdale's itinerary.
And at the end of it all it was Stephe
Elliott's check-book, and not an appeal t
he majesty of the law, which rescued
Margaret Gannon's sewing-machine; anhe man of vice pocketed the amount of hi
extortionate claim, and gave a receipt i
full therefor, biding his time, and biddin
an obsequious Son of Ahriman—the samwhom Jeffard had smitten aforetime—
keep an eye on Margaret Gannon agains
he day when she should be sufficientl
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unbefriended to warrant a recasting of th
net.
And when these things had come tpass, Robert Lansdale was of all men th
most miserable. From much dabbling i
he trickling rill of fictional sentiment, h
had come to disbelieve the existence oany deep river of passion; but now h
found himself upon the brink of such
river and was forbidden to plunge therein
ay, more; he must turn away from itparched and thirsty as any waywor
pilgrim of the world-desert, without s
much as lifting a palmful of its healin
waters to his lips.
He postponed the turning away fro
day to day, weakly promising himself tha
each visit to the house in Colfax Avenue
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should be the last, and as weakly yieldin
when a day or two of abstinence ha
enhanced his soul-hunger until it became
restless agony, mocking his most strenuoueffort to drown it in a sea of work.
Failing himself utterly, he fell to
watching Connie's face for some token ohe hopelessness of his passion, tellin
himself that he should find strength to sta
away when he should read his sentence i
he calm gray eyes. But Connie's eyewere as yet no more than frankl
sympathetic. And because he was far fro
home, and seemingly friendless, an
fighting the last grim battle with ancurable malady, she made him welcom
and yet more welcome, until finally, th
optimistic insanity of the consumptiv
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came upon him, assuring him that h
should live and not die, and pointing hi
hopefully down a dim vista of years,—
shining way wherein they two might walhand in hand till they should come to th
gate of the House Beautiful whos
chatelaine is Fame.
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CHAPTER XVI
The line of retreat from the valley
called by Jeffard "of dry bones," to th
possible land of promise in the Mosquito
ay through Leadville; not the teeming
ebullient, pandemoniac mining-camp o
he early carbonate era, but its les
crowded, less effervescent, though no lesstrenuous successor of the present.
On the march across the sky-pitche
mountains it had been agreed betwee
hem that there should be one bivouac i
he city of the bleak altitudes. That is t
say, Garvin proposed it, and Jeffard
assented, though not without a premonitio
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hat the halt would be fatal to the propose
Mosquito sequel to the campaign in th
Saguache. He knew at least one o
Garvin's weaknesses, and that it was akio his own. There were the beast o
burden and the dispensable moiety of th
camping outfit to sell, and provision t
buy; and Jeffard weighed his companion the balances of his own shortcomings
He was well assured that he could no
rust himself with money in his hand in an
such city of chanceful opportunity as th
great carbonate camp; and arraignin
Garvin at the bar of the same tribunal, h
udged him before the fact.It was a measure of the apatheti
ndifference which possessed Jeffard tha
he premonition gave him scant concern
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He marveled inwardly when the fact o
ndifference defined itself. Aside from an
promptings of common human gratitud
evolving themselves into friendlsolicitude for the man who had twic
saved his life,—promptings which h
found dead because he looked to find the
dead,—there was this: If his companioshould stumble and spill the scant
residue in the common purse the wolf
pack of famine and distress would be a
heir heels in a single sweep of the clock
hands. And yet the fact remained.
Jeffard was cogitating vaguely thi
curious manifestation of mental and moranertia when the city of the altitudes cam
nto view over the crest of the final ascen
n the toilsome journey. The smoke fro
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he smelters was trailing lazily toward th
distant Mosquito, and a shifting cumulu
of steam marked the snail-like advance o
a railway train up the steep grade froMalta. California Gulch and the olde
own were hidden behind the mountain o
approach; but the upper town and it
western environs lay stark in the hazelesatmosphere, with the snow-splotche
background of the nearer range, uptilte
and immense, dwarfing the houses int
hutch-like insignificance. Dreary as is thi
first view of the Mecca of wealth-seekers
t has quickened the pulse and brightene
he eye of many a wayworn pilgrim of thmountain desert; but Jeffard's thought wa
n his question to Garvin.
"Is it as near as it looks? or is it as fa
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away as this cursed no-atmospher
removes everything?"
"It's a good ten mile 'r so, yet. If we gea move on, we'll make it by sundown
maybe."
They tramped on in silence, the singin
silence of the crystalline heights
measuring mile after mile at the heels o
he patient burro, and reaching th
scattering outposts of the western suburbwhile yet the sun hung hesitant above th
peaks of the main range. The nearer aspec
of the great mining-camp wa
nexpressibly depressive to Jeffard. Thweathered buildings, frankly utilitaria
and correspondingly unbeautiful; the hars
sterility of the rocky soil; the ruthles
subordination of all things to the sordi
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purposes of money-getting; these were th
stage-settings of a scene which moved hi
curiously, like the fumes of a mingled cup
ntoxicating, but soul-nauseating, withaThe nausea was a consequent of th
changed point of view, and he knew it; bu
t was no whit less grievous. Wherefor
he groped in the pool of indifference untihe found a small stone of protest.
"Let us do what we have to do and ge
away from here quickly, Garvin," he saidflinging the stone with what precisio
here was in him.
They had turned into the principastreet, and the burro became reluctan
Garvin smote the beast from behind, an
ook a turn of the halter around its jaw.
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"Goin' to gig back for the crowd, ain
you?" he growled, apostrophizing the jack
and then to Jeffard: "Makes you sort o
own-sick, I reckon. I know the feel of itused to catch it, reg'lar, ever' time I'd ge
n from the range. It'll wear off after a da
r so; but, as you say, the quick way to do
t up is to light out ag'in, suddint."
"The sooner the better," said Jeffard
"The atmosphere of the place i
maddening."
Garvin took the word literally an
aughed. "'T ain't got no atmosphere t
speak of,—that's what's the matter with itoo blame' high up for any use."
They were in the thick of the stree
raffic by this time, and it required thei
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united malisons joined to what of energ
and determination the long day's marc
had left them to keep the ass from plantin
tself monument-wise in the middle of thstreet.
"Dad burn a canary, anyhow!
grumbled the man of the wilderness, whehey were resting a moment in front of
shackly building on the corner of a cros
street. "For ornerary, simon-pure, b'iled
down, soul-killin'"—His vocabulary oobjurgatory expletives ran short, and h
wrought out the remainder of th
malediction with a dumb show o
violence.
Jeffard smiled in spite of his mood
which was anything but farcical, an
pointed to the haversack of specimen
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dangling from the loosened pack.
"We're about to lose the samples," he
said.Garvin regained his wonted good
humor at a plunge.
"That'd be too blame' bad, wouldn't itnow; they're so blazin' precious! S'pos
you lug 'em acrost yonder to that ther
assay-shop whilst I toll the canary dow
o the corral. When you get shut o' th
rocks, come on round to the boardin
house,—'Miner's Rest,'—a block furde
along and two to your right. I'll meet yo
here bime-by, if there's anything left o' m
after I get through with this dad-burned
op-eared totin'-machine."
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Jeffard shouldered the bag of samples
but before he could reply the opportunit
fled clamorous. The lop-eared one
finding itself free for the moment, gavheed to a foolish bee buzzing in its atomi
brain, and went racing down the cros
street, with the big miner in hot pursuit.
"Exit James Garvin," quoth Jeffard
moved to smile again; and he crossed th
avenue to the shackly building with th
sign of the assayer besprent upon thwindows.
When he tried the door and found i
ocked, and the littered room beyond iempty, he was minded to go on to th
rendezvous while daylight served. Bu
when he reflected that Garvin would b
sure to await an assayer's verdict on th
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samples, and so prolong their stay in th
city of banality, he decided to conclud
he business affair first. So he went up an
down and around and about, and found alhe assay offices closed for the day sav
one, whose occupant, a round-bodie
ittle German, with the face of a cherub
martialized by the huge mustachios of cuirassier, was still at his bench. Jeffard
guessed at the little man's nationality, and
made a shrewd bid for celerity.
"Guten abend, mein Herr ," he said
unslinging his haversack.
The cherubic face of the expatriateone responded quickly to the greeting i
he loved mother-tongue.
"Wie geht's, wie geht's, mein gute
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err ," he rejoined; and then in broke
English: "I haf not dot Cherman befor
heard spoken in dis Gott-forsaken blaces
You haf some sambles gebracht ?"
" Ja, mein Herr."
"Gut! I vill of dem de tests maig. Nich
wahr?"
"Gefälligst, mein lieber Herr ;" an
quickly,—"we must go on our way agai
o-morrow."
"So qvick? Ach! das ist nicht sehr gut
You vill der poor olt assay-meister maig
o vork on der nide. But because you hader goot Cherman in your moud I vill i
do. Vat you haf?"
Jeffard unwrapped the samples one b
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one, and the assayer examined them wit
many dubious head-shakings. The amateu
made haste to anticipate the preliminar
verdict.
"I know they're valueless," h
admitted, "but I have a partner who wil
require your certificate before he will bconvinced. Can you let us know to
morrow?"
"Because you haf der Cherman, yesBut it vill be no goot; der silwer iss no
dere"—including the various specimens i
a comprehensive gesture.
Jeffard turned to go, slinging th
ightened haversack over his shoulder. A
he door he bethought him of the curiou
fragment of quartz picked up on the dump
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of the abandoned tunnel. It was in hi
pocket, and he rummaged till he found it.
"Can you tell me anything about this?he asked. "It seems to be a decompose
quartzite, matted on a base of some sort,—
a metal, I should say."
The little German snatched the bit o
quartz, and ogled it eagerly through hi
eye-glass.
"Mein Gott im Himmel!" he cried; an
he eye-glass fell to the floor and rolle
under the bench. "Iss it possible dot yo
know him not? Dot iss golt, mein liebe
reund ,—vire golt, reech, reech! Vere you
got him? Haf you got some more von dis?
Jeffard took it in vaguely, and tried to
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remember what he had done with th
handful of similar fragments gathered a
he same time. It came to him presently
He had emptied his pocket into thhaversack on the morning of the departur
from the valley what time Garvin wa
seeking the strayed burro.
He unslung the canvas bag and poure
he handful of gravel on the bench. Th
assayer, trembling now with repressed
excitement, examined the snuff-colorequartz, bit by bit, with a guttura
ejaculation for each. " Donnerwetter! H
gifs me feerst der vorthless stones to mai
of dem de assay, und den he vill ask mvon leedle qvestion about dis—di
maknificend bonansa! Ach! mein freund
haf you got viel of dis precious qvartz?"
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"Why, yes; there's a good bit of it,
believe," replied Jeffard, still unawake t
he magnitude of the discovery.
"Und you can find der blaces again
Dink aboud it now—dink hardt!"
Jeffard smiled. "Don't get excited
mein Herr . I know the place very well
ndeed; I left it only three days since."
"Gut; sehr gut! Now go you; go un
eef me to mein vork. Come you back i
der morgen, und I vill tell you dot you ar
reech, reech! Go, mein freund , mit de
goot Cherman in your moud—und Gott g
mit you."
Jeffard felt his way down the dar
stair, and so on out into the lighted street
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still only in the middle ground betwee
realization and the bare knowledge of th
fact. He was conscious of some vagu
recurrent effort to surround the incrediblhing; and conscious, too, that it grew an
spread with each succeeding attempt t
measure it until no mere human arms coul
girdle it.
Not yet did it occur to him to plac
himself at the nodus of discovery an
possession. The miraculous thing was fohim quite a thing apart; and when he ha
advanced far enough into the open countr
of realization to look a little about him, hi
hought was wholly for Garvin and theffect upon him of this sudden projectio
nto the infinite. He tried to imagine th
simple-hearted prospector as a man o
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affluence, and laughed aloud at th
grotesque figure conjured up by th
hought. What would Garvin do with hi
money? Squander it royally, like a loyason of fortune, and think the world wel
ost, Jeffard decided.
The hissing gasoline torch of a streefakir flared gustily in the keen night win
sweeping down from the Mosquito, an
he scintillant arc-stars at the corner
began to take on frosty aureoles oprismatic hues. The crowds on th
resonant plank sidewalks streame
boisterous and masterful, as if the plangen
spirit of time and place were abroadJeffard came to earth again in the rud
ostling of the throng. While h
speculated, Garvin—Garvin th
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nexpectant—was doubtless awaiting hi
at the place appointed. He must haste
hither to be the bearer of the good new
o the unspoiled one.
Looking about him to get his bearings
he found himself in front of the deserte
assay office on the spot where he haparted from Garvin. "One square dow
and two to the right," he said, repeatin
Garvin's directions; and he set out t
rudge them doggedly, lagging a little frohonest leg-weariness. In the last half of th
hird square there was a screene
doorway, and the click of celluloid
counters came to his ears from thbrilliantly lighted room beyond. At th
sound the embers of the fire kindle
months before glowed afresh and made hi
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heart hot.
"Ah, you're there yet, are you?" h
said, speaking to the stirring passion as it were a sentient entity within him. "Well
you'll have to lie down again; there's n
meat on the bone."
At the designated corner he found th
rendezvous. It was a hostelry of the base
sort, with a bar-room dominant, and eatin
and sleeping conveniences—onconveniences—subsidiary. The clatte
of knives and forks on ironstone chin
came from the ill-smelling dining-room i
he rear, and the bar-room held but onoccupant. It was Garvin; he was sitting a
one of the card-tables with his head in hi
arms. He looked up when Jeffard entered
and his smile was of fatigue.
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"Hello, there; thought you'd gone an
got lost in the shuffle. Get shut of 'em?"
Jeffard nodded."No good, I reckon?"
"No; nothing that we've found thi
summer. But you're a rich man, just thsame, Garvin."
"Yes; I've cashed in on the outfit, and
've got twenty dollars in my insidpocket. Let's go in and chew before the
fellers eat it all up."
"Don't be in a hurry; the kind of suppewe'll get here can wait. I said you are
rich man, and I meant it. You remembe
he old hole up in the hillside above th
camp,—the one you struck a 'dike' in tw
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years ago?"
"Reckon I ain't likely to forget it."
"Well, that 'dike' was decomposedquartz carrying free gold. I was curiou
enough to put a handful of the stuff into m
pocket and bring it out. The assayer's a
work on it now, and he says it'll run hig
—up into the hundreds, I imagine. Is ther
much of it?"
The effect of the announcement on th
unspoiled one was like that of an electri
shock. He staggered to his feet, wen
white under the bronze, and flung his arm
about Jeffard.
"Hooray!" he shouted; "that old hole—
hat same derned old hole 'at I've cusse
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out more'n a million times! Damn my foo
soul, but I knew you was a Mascot—knew
t right from the jump! Come on—let'
rrigate it right now, 'fore it's a minutolder!"
It was out of the depth of pure good
fellowship that Jeffard went to the bawith the fortune-daft miner. Not all th
vicissitudes of the breathless rush dow
he inclined plane had been sufficient t
slay the epicure in him; and the untidy bareeked malodorous. But the occasion wa
ts own excuse.
Garvin beat upon the bar with his fistand the roar of his summons drowned th
clatter of knives and forks in the adjacen
dining-room. The bartender came out
wiping his lips on the back of his hand.
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"What'll it be, gents?"
"The best you've got ain't goo
enough," said Garvin, with unwittinsarcasm. "Trot her out—three of a kind
t's on me, and the house is in it."
The man spun two glasses across th
bar, and set out a black bottle of dubiou
aspect. Knowing his own stock in trade
he drew himself a glass of Apollinari
water.
Jeffard sniffed at the black bottle an
christened his glass sparingly. Th
bouquet of the liquor was an entire roun
of dissipation with the subsequen
headache thrown in. Garvin tilted th
bottle with trembling hand, and filled hi
glass to the brim. The object-lesson wa
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not thrown away upon the epicure.
"Here's to the derned old hole with
cold million in it," said the miner, naminhe toast and draining his glass in the sam
breath. And then: "Come again, barkeep
drink water yourself, if you want to, bu
he red likker's good enough for us. Whado ye say, pardner? We're in it at last
plum up to the neck, and all on account o
hat derned old hole 'at I've cussed out
mil— Here's lookin' at ye."
Jeffard merely moistened his lips th
second time, and the object-lesso
exemplified itself. Garvin had brimmehis glass again, and the contents of th
black bottle were adulterant poisons
Wherefore he cut in quickly when Garvi
would have ordered again.
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"That'll do, old man; a little at a tim
and often, if you must, but not on an empt
stomach. Let's get the money before w
spend it."
The latter part of the warning ha
special significance for the bartender
who scowled ominously.
"Lemme see the color o' yer money,
he commanded. "If youse fellies ar
runnin' futures on me"—
Now Garvin had been living the life o
an anchoret for many weeks, and the fume
of the fiery liquor were already mountin
o his brain. For which cause th
bartender's insinuation was as spark t
ow.
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"Futures?" he yelled, throwing down
en-dollar bill with a mighty buffet on th
bar; "them's the kind o' futures we'r
drinkin' on right now! Why, you thickipped, mealy-mouthed white nigger, you
'll come down here some day and buy th
floor out from in under your feet; see
Come on, pardner; let's mog along out ohere 'fore I'm tempted to mop up hi
greasy floor with this here"—
There was hot wrath in the bartender'eyes, and Jeffard hustled the abusive on
out of the place lest a worse thing shoul
follow. On the sidewalk he remembered
what Garvin had already forgotten, anwent back for the change out of the ten
dollar bill, dropping it into his pocket an
rejoining his companion before the latte
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had missed him. Thereupon ensued a wa
of words. The newly belted knight o
fortune was for making a night of it; an
when Jeffard would by no means conseno this, Garvin insisted upon going to th
best hotel in the city, where they migh
ive at large as prospective millionaire
should.
Jeffard accepted the alternative, an
constituted himself bearward in ordinar
o the half-crazed son of the wildernessHe saw difficulties ahead, and the even
proved that he did not overestimate them
What a half-intoxicated man, bent upo
becoming wholly intoxicated, may do tmake thorny the path of a self-constitute
guardian Garvin did that night. At the hote
he scandalized the not too curious clerk
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and became the centre of an appreciativ
group in the rotunda what time Jeffard wa
pleading the mitigating circumstances wit
he hesitant deputy proprietor. In the midsof the plea, when Jeffard had consented t
assume all responsibility for hi
companion's vagaries, Garvin broke cove
n the direction of the bar-room, followeby a tail of thirsty ones.
"You say you know him?" said the
clerk tentatively.
"Know him? Why, yes; he is m
partner. We are just in from the range, and
he has struck it rich. It's a little too mucfor him just now, but he'll quiet down afte
a bit. He is one of the best fellows alive
when he's sober; and this is the first tim
've ever seen him in liquor. Two drink
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of bad whiskey did it."
"Two drinks and a surfeit of good
uck," laughed the clerk. "Well, we'll takehim; but you must keep him out of the way
He'll be crazy drunk in less than an hour
Been to supper?"
"No."
"Better have it sent to your room. H
sn't fit to go to the dining-room."
"All right; have a bell-boy ready, and
'll knock him down and drag him out, if
can."
That was easier said than done. Jeffar
found the foolish one in the bar-room
drinking ad libitum, and holding forth to
circle of interested hearers. Garvin ha
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evidently been recounting the history o
he abandoned claim, and one of th
isteners, a hawk-faced man, with shift
black eyes, was endeavoring to draw hiaside. He succeeded just as Jeffard thrus
his way into the circle, and the self
elected bearwarden caught the whispere
question and its answer.
"You say you located her two year
ago?" queried the hawk-faced one.
"No; that's the joke o' the whol
shootin'-match,—thess like I was a-tellin
ye." Garvin's speech ran back to its nativ
Tennessee idiom at the bidding ontoxication. "She ain't nev' been locate
it ; and if it hadn't 'a' been for that derne
ittle sharp-eyed pardner o' mine"—
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The questioner turned quickly to th
bar.
"Drinks all round, gentlemen—on me.Then to Garvin in the cautious undertone
"You said she was over in Stray Horse
Valley, didn't you?"
Garvin fell into the trap headlong. "No
much I didn't! She's a-snugglin' dow
under one o' the bigges' peaks in th
Saguache, right whar she can listen to thpurlin' o' the big creek that heads in"—
There was no time for diplomati
nterference. Jeffard locked his arm abou
Garvin's head, and dragged the big ma
bodily out of the circle.
"You fool!" he hissed. "Will you pitch
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t into the hands of the first man that ask
for it? Come along out of this!"
Garvin stood dazed, and a murmur odisapproval ran through the group o
hirsters. The hand of the hawk-faced on
stole by imperceptible degrees toward hi
hip pocket. Jeffard stopped it with a look.
"You have had fun enough with my
partner for one evening, gentlemen," h
said sternly. "Come on, Jim; let's go tosupper."
And the thirsters saw them no more.
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CHAPTER XVII
It was midnight and worse before th
ately belted knight of fortune had outwor
he hilarious and entered upon th
somnolent stage of the little journe
nsensate, and when the thing could b
done, Jeffard put him to bed with a pæa
of thanksgiving which was none the lesheartfelt for being unvocalized.
Having thus set his hand to Garvin'
plough, there was no alternative but to tur
he furrow to the end; wherefore, to guar
against surprises, he hid the boots of th
bottle-mad one, barricaded the door wit
his own bed, and lay down to doze wit
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eyelids ajar. At least that was the aler
determination; but the event proved that h
was weary enough to sleep soundly an
ate, and it was seven o'clock, and thbreakfast caller was hammering on th
door, when he opened his eyes on the new
day. Naturally, his first thought was for hi
companion, and the sight of the empty ben the farther corner of the room brough
him broad awake and afoot at the sam
saltatory moment. The son of fortune wa
gone, and an open door into the adjoinin
room accounted for the manner of hi
going.
Five minutes later, picture an anxioubrother-keeper making pointed inquirie
of the day-clerk below stairs. Instan
question and answer fly back and fort
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shuttle-wise, one may suppose, weavin
suspicion into a firm fabric of fact. Two
men whose names, or whose lates
aliases, were Howard and Lantermannhad occupied the room next to Jeffard's,—
quite chancefully, the clerk thinks. The
had left at an early hour; their call was fo
—one moment, and he (the clerk) wilascertain the exact time.
Whereupon one may fancy a
exasperated bearwarden cursinexactnesses and beating with impatient fis
upon the counter for the major fact. Th
fact, extorted at length, is simple an
conclusive. The two men had come dowsome time between five and six o'clock
with a third as a middle link in a chain o
ocked arms. One of the two had paid th
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bill, and they had all departed; by way o
he bar-room and the side entrance, as th
clerk remembers.
Whereat Jeffard is moved to swea
strange oaths; is swearing them, in point o
fact, when the omnibus from an early trai
shunts its cargo of arrivals into the maientrance. Among the incomers is a bi
fellow with a drooping mustache an
square-set shoulders, who forthwith drop
his handbag and pounces upon Jeffarwith greetings boisterous.
"Well, I'll be shot!—or words to tha
effect" (hand-wringings and shoulderclappings). "Now where on top of God'
green earth did you tumble from? Begi
away back yonder and give an account o
yourself; or, hold on,—let me write m
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name in the book and then you can tell m
while we eat. By Jove, old man! I'
foolishly glad to see you!"
Jeffard cut in quickly between th
arge-hearted protest and the signing of th
register.
"Just a second, Bartrow; let th
breakfast wait, and listen to me. I'm in n
end of a tangle, and you're the man of al
others to help me out if any one can. Dyou happen to know a fellow name
Garvin?"
"Don't I? 'Tennessee Jim, P. P.,'—that
stands for perennial prospector, yo
know. Sure. He's of the salt of the earth
rock salt, but full flavored. I know hi
ike a book, though I hadn't seen him for
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dog's-age until—but go on."
Jeffard did go on, making the occasio
one of the few which seemed to justify thsetting aside of indirection.
"We were partners; we have been ou
ogether all summer. He has struck it rich
and has gone clean daft in the lilt of it.
can't get him sober long enough to do wha
may be necessary to secure the claim. Th
sharks are after him hot foot, and if thecan succeed in soaking the data out of him
hey will jump the claim before he can ge
t located and recorded."
Bartrow laughed. "That's just like Jim
ordinarily, he doesn't drink as muc
whiskey in a year as most men do in
week. But if that's your only grief you ca
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come to breakfast with me and take you
ime about it. Later on, when we'v
smoked a few lines and brought up th
arrears of gossip, we'll hold a council owar and see what you're to do about th
potential bonanza."
"But I can't do anything; it's Garvin's, ell you."
"Well, you are partners in it, aren
you?"
Jeffard had another fight with a
ngrained reserve which was alway
blocking the way to directness an
prompting him to leave the major fac
unstated.
"We are not partners in this particula
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claim. It's an old discovery of Garvin's
He drove the tunnel on it two years ag
and then abandoned it. He was looking fo
ellurides and opened a vein of free-golquartz without knowing what he ha
found."
"Then it's nobody's claim, as it standsor rather I should say it's anybody's. You
—or rather Garvin—will have to begin a
he beginning, just as if it were a new
deal; go back and post a notice on thground and then come out and record it
And if it's Garvin's claim, as you say, he'
got to do this in person. Nobody can do i
for him. You can't turn a wheel till you gehold of Jim, and that's what makes me sa
what I 'does.' Let's go in and eat."
"But, Dick; you don't understand"—
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"Yes, I do; and I happen to know a
hing or two about this deal that you don't
You've got the whole forenoon before you
you are as safe as a house up to twelvo'clock. Come on."
"I say you don't understand. You called
t a 'potential bonanza' just now, meaninhat it wouldn't make so very muc
difference if it were never recorded. Bu
t's a bonanza in fact. If Rittenberge
knows what he is talking about, it is thbiggest strike of the year, by long odds.
don't know much about such things, but i
seems to me it ought to be secured at onc
and at all hazards."
"Rittenberger, you say?—the littl
Dutchman? You can bank on what he tells
you, every time. I didn't know you'd bee
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o an assayer. What is the figure?"
"I don't know that. I left the sampl
with him last night, and was to call thimorning for the certificate. But the littl
man bubbled over at the mere sight of it."
"Good for old Jim! So much the better
evertheless, as I say, you've an eas
half-hour in which to square yourself wit
me over the ham and eggs and what-no
and plenty of time to do what there is to bdone afterward. You can't do anything bu
wait."
"Yes, I can; I can find Garvin and make
sure of him. Don't you see"—
"I see that I'll have to tell you all
know—and that's something you never d
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for anybody—before you'll be reasonable
Listen, then: I saw your chump of a partne
ess than an hour ago. He was with two o
his old cronies, and all three of them werpretty well in the push, for this early in th
morning. They boarded the train I came up
on, and that is why I say you're safe til
noon. There is no train from the west tilwelve-seven. I know Jim pretty well, an
at his foolishest he never quite loses hi
grip. He had it in mind that he ought t
fight shy of something or somebody, and
he's given you the slip, dodged the enemy
and gone off on a three-handed spree all i
a bunch. There now, does that clear up thmystery?"
Jeffard had caught at the counter-rai
and was gradually petrifying. Here wa
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he worst that could have befallen, an
Bartrow had suspected nothing more tha
a drunken man's frolic.
"Gone?—with two men, you say? Ca
you describe them?"
"Roughly, yes; they were Jim's kind—
miners or prospectors. One of them wa
all and thin and black, and the other wa
rather thick-set and red. The red one wa
he drunkest of the three."
"Dressed like miners?" Jeffard had t
fight for the "s's." His tongue was thic
and his lips dry.
"Sure."
"That settles it, Dick, definitely. Las
night those two fellows were dressed lik
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men about town and wore diamonds
They've soaked their information out o
Garvin, and they are on their way to locat
hat claim."
It was Bartrow's turn to gasp an
stammer. "What?—locate the—Cæsar'
ghost, man, you're daft! They wouldn't takGarvin with them!"
"They would do just that. In the firs
place, with the most accurate descriptioof the locality that Garvin, drunk, coul
give them, there would be the uncertaint
of finding it without a guide. They know
hat they have left a sane man behind thewho can find the way back to the claim
and their only chance was to take Garvi
along, keeping him drunk enough to b
unsuspicious, and not too drunk to pilo
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hem. Once on the ground ahead of me
and with Garvin in their power, they ca
do the worst."
Bartrow came alive to th
probabilities in the catching of a breath
"Which will be to kill Garvin safely out o
he way, post the claim, and snap theifingers at the world. Good Lord!—and
et 'em knock him down and drag him ou
under my very eyes! I'd ought to be shot."
"It's not your fault, Dick; it's mine.
saw what was in the wind last night, an
stuck to Garvin till I got him to bed. I wa
dog-tired,—we'd been tramping all day,—and I thought he was safe to sleep th
clock around. I hid his boots, dragged m
bed across the door, and went to sleep."
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"You couldn't have done less—o
more. What happened?"
"This. Those two fellows had the roonext to us, and there was a door between
They slipped him out this morning before
was awake."
"Of course; all cut out and shaped u
beforehand. But, thank the Lord, there's
ghost of a chance yet. Where is th
claim?"
"It is three days' march a little to th
south of west, on the headwaters of
stream which flows into the Gunniso
River."
"And the nearest railroad point?"
"Is Aspen. If I remember correctly
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Garvin said it was about twenty mile
across the range."
"Good. That accounts for the beginninof the race; they'll go to Aspen and tak
horses from there. But I don't understan
why they took the long line. There are tw
railroads to Aspen, and one of them is ahour and twenty minutes longer than th
other. That's your chance, and the onl
one,—to beat 'em to the end of th
railroad run. How are you fixed?"
"For money, you mean? I have th
wreck of a ten-dollar note and a hotel bil
o pay."
Bartrow spun around on his heel an
shot a sudden question at the hotel clerk
he answer to which was inaudible t
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Jeffard. But Bartrow's rejoinder wa
explanatory.
"Rooms over the bank, you say? That'ucky." This to the clerk; and then to
Jeffard: "Come along with me; this is n
ime to stick at trifles. You've got to have
money, suddenly, and plenty of it."
But Jeffard hung back.
"What are you going to do, Dick?"
"Stake you and let you try for a specia
engine over the short line. Those fellow
ook the long way around, as I say,—why
don't know, because both trains leave ahe same time. The running time the wa
hey have gone is five hours and forty-fiv
minutes. By the other line it's only fou
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hours and twenty-five minutes. Savez?"
"Yes, but"—
"Weed out the 'buts' and come alongWe're due to rout a man out of bed and
make him open a bank vault. I can't put m
hand into my pocket for you, as I'd like to
but I know a banker, and my credit'
good."
They found the cashier of th
Carbonate City National in the midst o
his toilet. He was an Eastern man o
conservative habit, but he was sufficientl
Occidentalized to grasp the main points i
Bartrow's terse narrative, and to rise t
he inexorable demands of the occasion.
"You know the rule, Mr. Bartrow,—
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wo good names; and I don't know you
friend. But this seems to be an eighteen
carat emergency. Take that key and go
down the back way into the bank. You'lfind blank notes on the public desk. Mak
out your paper for what Mr. Jeffard wil
need, and I'll be with you in half
minute."
They found the way and the blank
which latter Bartrow hastily filled out
ndorsed, and handed to Jeffard fosignature. It was for five hundred dollars
and the proletary's hand shook when h
dipped the pen.
"It's too much," he protested; "I can
stand it, Dick. It is like putting a whette
sword into the hands of a madman."
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That was his first reference to the pas
and its smirched record, and Bartrow
promptly toppled it into the abyss o
generalities.
"Same old hair-splitter, aren't you
What's the matter with you now?"
"You know—better than any one. I am
not to be trusted with any such sum o
money."
"Call it Garvin's, then. I don't know
how you feel toward Jim, but I've alway
found him a man to tie to."
A woman would have said that Jeffardurned aside to hide an upflash of emotion
hough a clot on the pen was the excuse
But it was the better part of him that mad
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answer.
"I owe him my life—twice, Dick. B
all the known hypotheses of honor angratitude and common decency I ought t
be true to him now, in this his day o
helplessness. But when one has eaten an
drunk and slept with infamy"—
The cashier's step was on the stair, and
Bartrow cut in swiftly.
"Jeffard, you make me weary!—and
ncidentally, you're killing precious time
Can't you see that trust isn't a matter o
much or little? If you can't, why just nam
he amount for which you'd be tempted t
drop Garvin, and we'll cut under it so a
o be on the safe side."
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"But I sha'n't need a fifth of this,
Jeffard objected, wavering.
"You are liable to need more. Youmust remember that ten minutes henc
you'll be trying to subsidize a railroa
company. Sign that note and quit quibblin
about it."
The thing was done, but when th
money had changed hands, Jeffar
quibbled again.
"If the worst comes, you can't afford t
pay that note, Bartrow; and my probabilit
hangs on a hundred hazards. What if
fail?"
The cashier had unlocked the stree
door for them, and Bartrow ran the splitte
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of hairs out to the sidewalk.
"You're not going to fail if I can eve
succeed in getting you in motion. GooLord, man! can't you wake up and get
grip of the situation? It isn't the mer
saving or losing of the bonanza; it's shee
ife or death to Jim Garvin—and you sayou owe him. Here,—this cab is as goo
as any. Midland office, my man; half time
double fare. Don't spare the leather."
At eight-ten to the minute they wer
negotiating with the superintendent's chie
clerk for a special engine to Aspen
Whereupon, as is foreordained in succrises, difficulties multiplied themselves
while the office clock's decorou
pendulum ticked off the precious margi
of time. Bartrow fought this battle, fough
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t single-handed and won; but that wa
because his weapon was invincible. Th
preliminary passage at arms vocalize
tself thus:—
The Clerk , mindful of his superior'
moods, and reflectively dubitant: "I'
afraid I haven't the authority. You wilhave to wait and see the superintendent
He'll be down at nine."
Bartrow: "Make it a dollar a mile."
The Clerk : "Can't be done; or, at least
can't do it. We're short of motive power
There isn't an engine fit for the run at thi
end of the division."
Bartrow: "Say a hundred and fifty fo
he trip."
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The Clerk : "I'm afraid we couldn
make it, anyhow. We'd have to send a
caller after a crew, and"—
Bartrow, sticking to his single text lik
a phonograph set to repeat: "Call it
hundred and seventy-five."
The Clerk , in a desperate aside
"Heavens! I wish the old man woul
come!"—and aloud—"Say, I don't believ
we could better the passenger scheduleeven with a light engine. It's fast—fou
hours and twenty-five"—
Bartrow: "Make it two hundred."
Jeffard counted out the money whil
he office operator was calling the engine
dispatcher; and at eight-twenty they wer
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pacing the station platform, waiting for th
ordered special. Bartrow looked at hi
watch.
"If you get away from here at eight
hirty, you'll have three hours and thirty
five minutes for the run, which is just fift
minutes better than the regular schedulet'll be nip and tuck, but if your engineer i
any good he'll make it. Do you know wha
o do when you reach Aspen?"
"Why, yes; I'll meet Garvin when hi
rain arrives, cut him out of the tangle wit
he sharks, get him on a horse and ride fo
ife across the range."
"That's the scheme. But what if th
other fellows object?"
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Jeffard straightened himsel
unconsciously. "I'm not uncertain on tha
side; I can fight for it, if that is what yo
mean."
Bartrow looked him up and down wit
a smile which was grimly approbative
"Your summer's done you a whole lot ogood, Jeffard. You look like a grown
man."
"As I didn't when you last saw me. Bu'm afraid I am neither better nor worse
Dick,—morally."
"Nonsense! You can't help being one o
he other. And that reminds me: you
haven't accounted for yourself yet. Ca
you do it in the hollow of a minute?"
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"Just about. Garvin picked me out o
he gutter and took me with him on thi
prospecting trip. That's all."
"But you ought to have left word wit
somebody. It was rough on your friends to
drop out as if you'd dodged th
undertaker."
"Who was there to care?"
"Well, I cared, for one; and then there
s Lansdale, and—and"—
"I know," said Jeffard humbly. He wa
hungry for news, but he went fasting on th
hinnest paring of inquiry. "Does shremember me yet?"
Bartrow nodded. "She's not of th
forgetting kind. I never go to Denver tha
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she doesn't ask me if I've heard of you. Bu
hat's Connie Elliott, every day in th
week. She's got a heartful of her own jus
now, too, I take it, but that doesn't makany difference. She's everybody's sister
ust the same."
"A—a heartful of her own, you say? don't quite understand." Jeffard wa
staring intently down the empty railwa
yard, and the glistening lines of steel wer
blurred for him.
It was a situation for a bit of mercifu
diplomacy, but Bartrow the tactles
blundered on remorselessly.
"Why, yes,—with Lansdale, you know
don't know just how far it has gone, but i
were going to put money on it, I'd say sh
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would let her life be shortened year fo
year if his could be spun out i
proportion."
Jeffard brought himself up with
savage turn. Who was he that he should b
privileged as those who are slain in an
honorable cause?
"Lansdale is no better, then?"
"I don't know. Sometimes he thinks h
s. But I guess it's written in the book; an
'm sorry—for his sake and hers. Ther
comes your automobile."
A big engine was clanking up throughe yard, but Jeffard did not turn to look a
t. He was wringing Bartrow's hand, an
rying vainly to think of some message t
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send to the woman he loved. And at th
end of it, it went unsaid. One of the clerk
was waiting with the train-order when th
engine steamed up; and Jeffard was fain tclamber to his place in the cab, full to th
ips with tender embassies, which woul
by no means array themselves in words.
Bartrow waited till he could fling hi
God-speed up to the cab window. It too
he form of a parting injunction, an
neither of them suspected how much iwould involve.
"If you need backing in Aspen, look up
Mark Denby. He's a good friend of minean all-around business man, and
guardian angel to fellows with holes in th
ground and no ready money. Hunt him up
'll wire your introduction and have i
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here ahead of you. Off you go—good luc
o you!"
And at the word the big engine liftets voice with a shout and a bell-clang
and shook itself free for the race.
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CHAPTER XVIII
From Leadville to the point in the sky
ine of the Continental Divide where th
southern shoulder of Mount Massive dip
o Hagerman's Pass, the railway grad
climbs with the old Glenwood trail; an
when Malta was left behind and the ascen
fairly begun, Jeffard had fleeting glimpseof the road over which he and Garvin an
he patient burro had toiled eastward th
day before. From outer curves an
promontories doubled at storming speehe hoof-beaten trail flicked into view an
disappeared; and at times the brief vista
framed a reminiscent picture of two foot
weary pilgrims plodding doggedly in th
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wake of a pack-laden ass.
It was impossible to conceive tha
hese phantoms belonged to to-day'yesterday. The crowding events of a few
hours had already pushed them into a far
away past; their entities were lost in th
kaleidoscopic whirl which haransformed the two men no less than thei
prefigurings. What had the foolish witlin
raving yonder on his way to despoilmen
and death with the two plunderers icommon with the self-contained son of th
wilderness, who had but yesterday bee
his brother's keeper in a world o
disheartenment? And this other; steamhurrying on his way to the same goal, wit
set jaw and tight lips and resolute purpos
n his eyes; by how much or little could h
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be identified with the undeterminate one
whose leaden-footed trudgings th
storming locomotive was taking i
reverse?
Through some such cycle the wheel o
reflection rolled around to its startin
point in things present, and Jeffard awoko the moving realities of steep grades an
breath-cutting curves, yawning abysse
and hurtling cliffs, flitting backward to th
cacophone obbligato of the exhaust anhe clangorous cries of racking machinery
The engineer braced on his box was
muscular giant, with the jaw of
prizefighter, and steel-gray eyes that hadong since looked death out o
countenance. Jeffard took his measure i
an appraisive glance. "If your engineer i
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good for anything," Bartrow had said; an
he glance slew the conditional doubt
What a fearless driver of fast locomotive
might do toward reversing the fate of thbesotted one would be done.
In the mean time the race was to th
udicious rather than to the swift. Thnterminable succession of grades an
curves clogged the wheels, and the grea
engine snorted and wallowed on it
upward way, slowing down at times untihe throbbing puffs of the escaping stea
seemed to beat no more than leisurel
minuet-time. But the climbing miles to th
summit of the pass were measuredoggedly, if not with speed. No triflin
advantage of tangent or "let-up" wa
passed without fresh spurrings of th
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hrottle; and when the engine swept aroun
he long curve which is the approach t
he telegraph station at the summit tunne
he engineer glanced at his watch annodded across to his passenger.
"We're goin' to make it," he said, in
answer to Jeffard's shouted inquiry. "It'lbe a close call, but the old Ninety-seven'
a bird."
At the station the operator tossed elegram through the cab window. It wa
from Bartrow, and its major purpose wa
o give the figures of the assay, which h
had obtained from the little German. Thewere sufficiently significant, an
Bartrow's added urgings wer
unnecessary. "I'm standing over the trai
dispatcher here with a club," he wired
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"Don't make any economical mistake a
your end of the string."
The engineer had finished oilinaround and had clambered back to hi
box. The water supply was replenished
and the fireman was uprearing the tank
spout. Jeffard crossed the footboard anhrust a little roll of bank notes betwee
he fingers of the brawny hand on th
hrottle lever. The engineer smoothed th
bills on his knee and wagged his head aone doubtful.
"That's pretty well up to a month'
pay."
"Well, you are going to earn it."
"Better keep it till I do," said th
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stalwart one, offering it back.
"No; I'm not afraid to pay you i
advance. You are going to do your bestand I am not trying to bribe you. It's yours
whether we make it or not."
The big man thrust the bills into hi
pocket and opened the throttle. "You go
over there and sit down and hold your hai
on," he commanded. "I'm goin' to break th
record when we get out into daylight ohe other side o' the mountain."
Jeffard was still groping for hand an
foot holds on the fireman's seat when th
ocomotive rolled out of the wester
portal of the summit tunnel and the record
breaking began. Of the brain-benumbin
rush down the gorges of the Frying Pan o
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a flying locomotive, one recalls but
confused memory; a phantasmagori
umble of cliffs and chasms, backward
flitting forests and gyrating mountaipeaks, trestles and culverts roarin
beneath the drumming wheels, the shriek
of the whistle and the intermittent strido
of escaping steam in the iron throat of thsafety-valve; a goblin dance of matter i
motion to a war blast of chaotic uproar
One sets the teeth to endure, and come
back to the cosmic point of view with
deep-drawn sigh of relief when the gobli
dance is over, and the engine halts at th
unction where the Aspen branch leavehe main line and crosses the Frying Pan t
begin the ascent of the Roaring Fork.
From this point the competing railway
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parallel each other, and at the junction th
rains on either line are within whistl
call. To the engineer's question the
elegraph operator nodded an affirmative.
"Yep; she's just gone by. That's he
whistlin' for Emma now. What's the rush
—backed to beat her into Aspen?"
The engineer nodded in his turn, an
signed the order for the right of way on th
branch. A minute later the junction stationwas also a memory, and Jeffard wa
straining his eyes for a glimpse of th
passenger train on the other line. A shor
distance to the southward the rival linemeet and cross, exchanging river banks fo
he remainder of the run to Aspen. Th
passenger train was first at the crossing
and Jeffard had his glimpse as the engin
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slackened speed. Not to lose a rail-lengt
n the hard-fought race, Jeffard's man ra
close to the crossing to await his turn, an
he light engine came to a stand withipistol shot of the train, which was slowl
clanking over the crossing-frogs. Jeffar
slipped from his seat and went over to th
engineer's gangway. It would be wortsomething if he could make sure tha
Garvin was on the train.
The espial was rewarded and punishen swift sequence. The trucks of th
smoking-car were jolting over th
crossing, and Jeffard saw the head an
shoulders of the insane one filling an opewindow. It was conspicuously evident tha
Garvin had drained the bottle to the frenz
mark. He was yelling like a lost soul, an
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shaking impotent fists at the halted engine
Jeffard's eye measured the distance to th
moving car. It was but down on
embankment and up the other.
"That's my man," he said quickly to th
engineer. "Do you suppose I could make i
across?"
"Dead easy," was the reply; and
Jeffard swung down to the step of th
engine to drop off. The impulse saved hiife. As he quitted his hold a hairy ar
bared to the elbow was thrust out of th
window next to the yelling maniac. Ther
was a glint of sun-rays on polished metaand a pistol ball bit out the corner of th
cab under the engineer's arm-rest. Jeffar
desisted, and climbed to his place whe
he moving train gathered headway.
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"Damn a crazy loon, anyway," said th
engineer, much as one might pass the tim
of day. "They'd ought to have sens
enough to take his gun away from him."
Jeffard explained in a sentence. "I
wasn't the crazy one; it was one of the tw
cut-throats who are kidnaping him—thfellows I'm trying to beat."
"The fellers you're goin' to beat,
corrected the engineer. "We'll head 'emoff now if the Ninety-seven goes in o
hree legs. The gall o' the cusses!—why
hey might ha' shot somebody!"
From the crossing in the lower valle
neither line encounters any specia
obstacle to speed; and under equa
conditions a locomotive race up th
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Roaring Fork might be an affair o
seconds and rail lengths for the victor. Bu
he light engine with regardless order
speedily distanced the passenger traiwith stops to make; and when the smoke
of the mountain-girt town at the head of th
valley came in sight, the big enginee
pulled his watch and shouted triumphant—
"Eleven-forty,—and their time'
welve-five. We'll be twenty minutes tohe good in spite o'"—
It is conceivable that he would hav
used a strong figure, but the depravity ohings inanimate took the word out of hi
mouth. There was a tearing crash to th
rear; a shock as if a huge projectile ha
overtaken them; and the flying locomotiv
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came to earth like an eagle with a mangle
wing. It was a broken axle under th
ender; a tested steel shaft which ha
outlived the pounding race across thmountains only to fall apart in the las
evel mile of the home stretch. Jeffar
clambered down with the enginemen, an
saw defeat, crushing and definite, in thwreck under the tender. But the bi
engineer was a man for a crisis. On
glance at the wreck sufficed, and th
fireman got his orders in shot-lik
sentences.
"Up with you, Tom, and give her the
water,—both injectors! Drop me thsledge, and get the pinch-bar under th
head o' that couplin'-pin when I drive i
up. Give her a scoop 'r two o' coa
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—'nough to run in with. By cripes! we'l
beat 'em yet!"
The minced oath came from beneath thengine, and was punctuated by might
upward blows of the sledge hammer o
he coupling-pin, whose head was risin
by half-inch impulses from its seat in thfootplate. Jeffard saw and understood
The engineer meant to cut loose from th
wreck and finish the run without th
ender.
"Use me if you can," he offered. "Wha
shall I do?"
"Climb up there and help Tom with tha
bar. If we can pull this pin we're in it yet.
Jeffard laid hold with the fireman, an
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ogether they pried at the reluctant pin. I
yielded at length, but when the enginee
had disconnected the water and air hos
and mounted to his place in the cab, throar of the oncoming passenger train wa
ajar in the air.
"You stay with the wreck, Tom, andflag it!" was the final command; and the
o Jeffard, as the engine shot away from it
disabled member: "How much time hav
you got to have?"
"I don't know. It depends upon how
much those fellows have found out, an
how drunk my partner is. At the worst, minute or two will serve."
It was still to be had, but in the ver
yard a thrown switch intervened, and th
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small margin vanished. The passenge
rain was in, and Jeffard saw defeat again
but he dropped from the locomotive an
ran up the yard, forgetting in the heat of ihat he had elided two meals in th
wenty-four hours. The final dash brough
ts reward. He took the first vehicle tha
offered and reached the principal hotel iime to see Garvin and his keeper
descend from a carriage at the entrance.
"Yes, sir; in one moment. Those threefellows who came in just now? They'v
gone up to their room. Be with us ove
night?"
Thus the hotel clerk in answer t
Jeffard's gasping inquiry. To whom the
proletary, fighting desperately for som
semblance of equanimity:—
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"I—I'll be here indefinitely; no, I hav
no baggage; I'll pay in advance. Can yo
give me the room next to these men? Th
crazy one is my partner, and I'll bresponsible for him."
The clerk hesitated, but Jeffard won hi
cause without knowing it by the necessarparade of bank-notes in the pecuniar
affair.
"Certainly, sir; the boy will show youup. You won't trouble him? All right
umber Nineteen—second floor, third
door to the right. Dinner is served, whe
you're ready."
If Jeffard had forgotten his direction
he uproar in Number Eighteen woul
have guided him. Garvin's voice, uplifte
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n alternate malediction and maudli
bathos, jarred upon the air of the corridor
Jeffard paused. The long chase was ende
and only a pine door intervened betweepursuer and pursued. He laid a hand on th
doorknob. His breath came hard, and th
veins in his forehead were like knotte
whipcords. While he paused some brokebabblings from within wrought a swif
change in him. The knotted veins relaxe
and he laughed, not mirthfully but with
cynical upcurve of the lip. His han
slipped from the doorknob, and he stol
away, cat-like, to let himself noiselessl
nto the adjoining room.There was a door of communicatio
between the two rooms, bolted o
Jeffard's side, and with the knob removed
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He went on his knees to the square hol
hrough the lock, but the angle of visio
ncluded no more than a blank patch of th
opposite wall. Then he laid his ear to thaperture. Out of the jangling discor
beyond the door came fragmentar
ucidities pieceable together into a stran
of sequence. Garvin had told all he knewor all he could remember, and the robber
paused at the trivial detail of the mos
feasible route over the mountains fro
Aspen. But to make sure, and possibly t
provide against the contingency of havin
o eliminate Garvin, some rude map wa
needed; and this one of the plunderers waevidently trying to draw under instruction
from the witling. At the mention of a map
Jeffard rummaged his pockets withou
aking his ear from the door. From one o
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hem he drew a crumpled bit of paper
humbed and crease-broken. It wa
Garvin's map of the claim and the trai
passed over for inspection in the hollowof a certain lambent evening month
before and never returned.
Who shall say what was behind thnscrutable darkling of the eyes of hi
when he returned the paper to his pocke
and bent to listen with four senses lendin
heir acuteness to the fifth? Was it asoftening memory of the loving-kindnesse
of one James Garvin to a man soul-sic
and body-wasted, snatched as a charre
brand out of a fire of his own kindling? Owas it the stirring of a ruthless devil o
self; a devil never more than dormant i
any heart insurgent; a fell demon of the pi
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whose arousing waits only upo
opportunity, whose power is to transfor
pity into remorseless ingratitude and rut
nto relentless greed? There was room fohe alternative.
"Here; take another nip o' this and pul
yourself together,"—it was the voice ohe hawk-faced one. "If you wasn't such
howlin' idiot you'd see that we're the onl
friends you've got. I keep a-tellin' you tha
hat slick pardner o' yours was on thawild ingine, and if you don't sink a shaf
on your wits he's a-goin' to do you up
cold!"
The appeal brought blood as a blow
The crash of an overturned chair wa
followed by an explosion of cursings, th
outcries of a soul in torment. And whe
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he madman choked in the fullness of it,
voice said: "Pick up that chair, Pete, and
pull him down. He'll be seein' things in
minute, and that'll settle the wholshootin'-match." There was a struggl
short but violent, the jar of a forcibl
downsetting, and a sound as of on
flinging his arms abroad upon the tableAfter which the tormented one becam
brokenly articulate. What he said i
unrecordable. With maudlin oath and
hick-tongued ravings he rehearsed hi
fancied wrongs and breathed fort
promises of vengeance, calling down th
wrath of the spheres upon one HenrJeffard and his posterity to the third an
fourth generation.
"That's all right; I'd kill him on sight, i
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was you. But just now you're killin' time
nstid. First you know, he'll be on his way
acrost the range, and then where'll you be
You don't even know that he didn't locatehat claim before you came out. Git dow
o business and tell us where that valle
s, if you ever knowed. You said it was on
a creek"—
Jeffard rose and went softly across th
room to sit on the edge of the bed. Th
unfathomable light was still in his eyesand his thought wrought itself into words.
"It's done; they'll wring it out of him
and then fling him aside like so mucoffal. I wonder if it is worth while to tr
o save it—for him. What good would i
do him?—or, rather, what evil thing i
here that it wouldn't make possible fo
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him? What devil of curiosity led me t
open this Pandora-box of responsibility
For I am responsible, first for the finding
and now for the keeping, and hereafter fowhat shall come of it. That is, if I save i
—for him." He got upon his feet an
iptoed back to the door o
communication, listening once more. Thclamor had quieted down, and th
scratching of a pen gnawed the silence
Then came the voice of the hawk-face
one.
"There she is; you sign your name righ
here and it'll be all right. It's the onl
way; you're too drunk to pull strings withat pardner o' yours, and we're goin' t
stand by you, see? All we want is th
authority."
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Jeffard started back and made as if h
would fling himself against the locke
door. Then he thought better of it.
"That simplifies it," he mused, pacin
up and down with noiseless steps. "He ha
signed away whatever right he had, an
now it's my turn. If I pay the price I cacheckmate them. But can I pay the price
Surely, if any man can; I, who hav
deliberately turned my back upon th
world's approval for a much less thingAnd in the end the money will atone."
A stir in the adjoining roo
admonished him that the time for actiohad come. He wheeled quickly and le
himself into the corridor. A key was
rattling in the lock of Number Eighteen a
he passed, but he found the stair before th
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bolt was shot. In the lobby he stopped t
ask a hurried question of a man who wa
opening his mail at the public writing
able. The question was answered curtlybut the man left his letters and went to th
door to point the reply.
"I see it; thank you," said Jeffard; anwent his way rapidly, with now and then
glance behind him as if to make sure tha
he was not followed.
In a few minutes he came back
walking slowly, with his head down and
his hands in the pockets of the brown duc
miner's coat. There was a knot of loungern front of the hotel, gathered about th
door and peering in; a group of curiou
ones, which grew by accretions from th
by-passers. A disturbance of some sor
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was afoot in the lobby—two persuasiv
ones struggling peaceably with a drunke
man, while the bystanders looked on wit
smiles pitying or cynical, each after hikind.
Jeffard pushed into the circle, an
hose who remarked him said that hseemed to see nothing but the strugglin
rio. Some of the onlookers were nea
enough to hear what he said to the tw
who were not drunk.
"The game is closed, gentlemen, an
you are out of it. When you get on th
ground you will find the claim located—imy name."
Two right hands made simultaneou
backward dips, and two potentia
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murderers apparently realized the folly o
t at the same instant. But the drunken on
spun around with his face ablaze, a fierce
madness than that of drink burning in hibloodshot eyes.
"You? You played the sneak an
ocated hit behind my back? In your named' ye say?—your name? Well, by God
you hain't got a name!"
A pistol cracked with the oath, andJeffard put his hands to his head an
pitched forward. The crowd fell bac
aghast, to surge inward again with a rus
when the reaction came. Then a shout waraised at the door, and the haggard
manslayer, cured now of all madness sav
hat of fear, burst through the inpressin
hrong and disappeared.
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CHAPTER XIX
Even in a Colorado mining town
shooting affray at midday in the lobby o
he principal hotel creates more or less o
a sensation, and it was fully fiftee
minutes before the buzz of public commen
subsided sufficiently to suffer Mr. Mar
Denby to go back to his letters anelegrams. He had made one in the circl
of onlookers; had seen and heard, and
now that the wounded man had bee
carried to his room and cared for, and thhunt was up and afield for the would-b
murderer, was willing to forget. But
raveling salesman at the opposit
blotting-pad must needs keep the poo
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astir.
"Say, wasn't that the most cold
blooded thing you ever saw? 'Y gad! I'vheard that these Western towns were
fearfully tough, but I had no idea a ma
wouldn't be safe to sit down and write hi
house in the lobby of a decent hotel. 'Pomy word, I actually heard the 'zip' of tha
bullet!"
Denby looked across at the hinderer ooblivion, and remembered that th
salesman had been well to the rear of th
battery in action. Wherefore he said, wit
a touch of the gravest irony: "You'll geused to it, after a bit. Suppose you take
spin around the block in the open air; tha
will doubtless steady your nerves so yo
can write the house without a quiver."
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"Think it would? I believe I'll try it;
can't hold a pen still to save my life. Bu
say, I might happen to run up against tha
fellow, and he might recognize me andhink I was after him."
"In which case he would in al
probability draw and quarter you and takyour scalp for a memento. On secon
hought, I don't know but you're safe
where you are."
The mere suggestion was perspiratory
and the traveling man mopped his face
But there are occasions when one mus
alk or burst, and presently he began again
"Say, I suppose they'll lynch tha
fellow if they catch him, won't they?"
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The badgered one came to attentio
with a fine-lined frown of annoyanc
radiating fan-like above his eyes. He wa
of the stuff of which man-masters armade; a well-knit figure of a man, rathe
under than over the average of height an
breadth, but so fairly proportioned as t
give the impression of unmeasurestrength in reserve,—the strength of stee
under silk. His face was bronzed with th
sun-stain of the altitudes, but it was a
smooth as a child's, and beardless, wit
hin lips and masterful eyes of the sort tha
can look unmoved upon things unnamable
"Lynch him? Oh, no; you do us anjustice," he said, and the tone was quit
as level as the eye-volley. "We don't lync
people out here for shooting,—only fo
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alking too much."
Whereat one may picture unacclimate
oquacity gasping and silenced, with thowner of the "Chincapin" and other liste
properties going on to read his letters an
elegrams in peace. The process furthere
tself in the sequence of well-orderedispatch until a message, damp from th
copying-press and dated at Leadville
came to the surface. It covered two of th
yellow sheets in the spacious handwritinof the receiving operator, and Denby read
t twice, and yet once again, before layin
t aside. Whatever it was, it was no
suffered to interrupt the orderly sequencof things; and Denby had read the last o
he letters before he held up a summonin
finger for a bell-boy.
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"Go and ask the clerk the name of th
man who was shot, will you?"
The information came in two wordsand the querist gathered up his papers an
sent the boy for his room key. At the
stairhead he met the surgeon and stoppe
him to ask about the wounded man.
"How are you, Doctor? What is th
verdict? Is there a fighting chance fo
him?"
"Oh, yes; much more than that. It isn
as bad as it might have been; the skull isn
fractured. But it was enough to knock hi
out under the circumstances. He ha
skipped two or three meals, he tells me
and was under a pretty tense strain o
excitement."
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"Then he is conscious?"
The physician laughed. "Very much so
He is sitting up to take my prescription,—which was a square meal. Whatever th
strain was, it isn't off yet. He insists tha
he must mount and ride this afternoon if h
has to be lashed in the saddle; has alreadordered a horse, in fact. He is plucky."
"Then he is able to talk business,
suppose."
"Able, yes; but if you can get anythin
out of him, you'll do better than I could
He won't talk,—won't even tell what th
row was about."
"Won't he?" The man of affairs crossed
he corridor and tapped on the door o
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umber Nineteen. There was no response
and he turned the knob and entered. Th
shades were drawn and there was
cleanly odor of aseptics in the air of thdarkened room. The wounded man wa
propped among pillows on the bed, with
well-furnished tea-tray on his knees. H
gave prompt evidence of his ability talk.
"Back again, are you? I told you I ha
nothing to say for publication, and I meant." This wrathfully; then he discovered hi
mistake, but the tone of the careles
apology was scarcely more conciliatory
"Oh—excuse me. I thought it was threporter."
Bartrow's correspondent found a chai
and introduced himself with charitabl
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directness. "My name is Denby. I am her
because Mr. Richard Bartrow wires me to
ook you up."
Jeffard delayed the knife and fork pla
ong enough to say: "Denby?—oh, yes;
remember. Thank you," and there th
nterview bade fair to die of inanitionJeffard went on with his dinner as on
who eats to live; and Denby tilted hi
chair gently and studied his man as wel
as he might in the twilight of the drawshades. After a time, he said:—
"Bartrow bespeaks my help for you
He says your affair may need expeditingdoes it?"
Jeffard's rejoinder was almos
antagonistic. "How much do you know o
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he affair?"
"What the whole town knows by thi
ime—added to what little Bartrow tellme in his wire. You or your partner have
stumbled upon an abandoned claim whic
promises to be a bonanza. One of you—
public rumor is a little uncertain as twhich one—tried to euchre the other; an
t seems that you have won in the race t
he Recorder's office, and have come ou
of it alive. Is that the summary?"
He called it public rumor, but it wa
rather a shrewd guess. Jeffard did no
hasten to confirm it. On the contrary, hireply was evasive.
"You may call it an hypothesis—a
working hypothesis, if you choose. Wha
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hen?"
The promoter was not of those wh
swerve from conclusions. "It follows thayou are a stout fighter, and a man to b
helped, or a very great rascal," he sai
coolly.
Again the knife and fork paused, an
he wounded man's gaze was at least a
steady as that of his conditional accuser
"It may simplify matters, Mr. Denby, if say that I expect nothing from publi
rumor."
The mine-owner shrugged hi
shoulders as an unwilling arbiter wh
would fain wash his hands of the ethica
entanglement if he could.
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"It's your own affair, of course,—th
public opinion part of it. But it may prov
o be worth your while not to ignore th
suffrages of those who make and unmakreputations."
"Why?"
"Because you will need capital,—
honest capital,—and"—
He left the sentence in the air, and
Jeffard brought it down with a cynica
stonecast.
"And, under the circumstances, a
honest capitalist might hesitate, you woulsay. Possibly; but capital, as I know it, i
not so discriminating when the lega
requirements are satisfied. There will b
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no question of ownership involved in th
development of the 'Midas.'"
"Legal ownership, you mean?""Legal or otherwise. When the time fo
nvestment comes, I shall be abundantl
able to assure the capitalist."
"To guarantee the investment
doubtless. But capital is not always a
unscrupulous as you seem to think."
"No?"—the tilt of the negative wa
almost aggressive. "There are borrower
and borrowers, Mr. Denby. It's the man
without collateral who is constrained tmake a confidant of his banker."
The blue-gray eyes of the master o
men looked their levelest, and the clean
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shaven face was shrewdly inscrutable
"Pardon me, Mr. Jeffard, but there are me
who couldn't borrow with the Orizab
behind them."
Jeffard parried the eye-thrust, an
brushed the generalities aside in
sentence.
"All of which is beside the mark, and
have neither the strength nor th
nclination to flail it out with you. As yosay, I shall need capital—yours o
another's. State the case—yours, or mine
—in so many words, if you please."
"Briefly, then: the equity in this affai
ies between you and the man who tried t
kill you. I mean by this that the bonanza i
either yours or his. If it were a partnership
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discovery there would have been n
chance for one of you to overreach th
other. You'll hardly deny that there was a
sharp fight for possession: you botadvertised that fact pretty liberally."
Jeffard was listening with indifference
real or feigned, and he neither denied noaffirmed. "Go on."
"From the point of view of a
unprejudiced observer the evidence iagainst your partner. He comes here drun
and abusive, in company with two me
whose faces would condemn the
anywhere, and squanders his lead in thrace in a supplementary carouse. And
ittle later, when he finds that you hav
outclassed him, he shoots you down like
dog in a fit of drunken fury. To an
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mpartial onlooker the inference is fairl
obvious."
"And that is?"— "That your partner is the scoundrel; tha
he discovery is yours, and that he and hi
accomplices were trying to rob you.
don't mind saying that this is my ow
nference, but I shall be glad to have i
confirmed."
Jeffard looked up quickly. "The
Bartrow hasn't told you"—
"Bartrow's message was merel
ntroductory; two pages of eulogy, in factas any friendly office of Dick's is bound t
be. He doesn't go into details."
Jeffard put the tea-tray aside and wit
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t the air of abstraction, and in a bette
ight his interlocutor would not hav
failed to remark the swift change fro
dubiety to assurance.
"Will you bear with me, Mr. Denby, i
say that your methods are a littl
ndirect? You say that the evidence isagainst James Garvin, and yet you give m
o understand that it will be well if I ca
clear myself."
"Exactly; a word of assurance i
sometimes worth many deductions."
"But if, for reasons of my own, I refus
o say the word?"
The promoter's shrug was barel
perceptible. "I don't see why you shoul
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refuse."
Jeffard went silent at that, lying bac
with closed eyes and no more than witching of the lips to show that he wa
not asleep. After what seemed a
nterminable interval to the mine-owner
he said:—
"I do refuse, for the present. A few
days later, when I have done what I hav
o do, there will be time enough to discusways and means—and ethics, if you stil
feel inclined that way. May I trouble yo
o run that window-shade up?" He wa
sitting on the edge of the bed and gropinbeneath it for his shoes.
The promoter admitted the light an
ventured a question.
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"What are you going to do?"
"Get on the ground with the leas
possible delay."The shoes were found, but when th
wounded one bent to lace them the roo
spun around and he would have fallen i
Denby had not caught him.
"You're not fit," said the master of men
not unsympathetically. "You couldn't sit a
horse if your life depended upon it."
"I must; therefore I can and will,
Jeffard asserted, with fine determination
"Be good enough to ask the bell-boy tcome in and lace my shoes."
The man with a mission to compe
other men smiled. His fetish wa
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ndomitable resolution, for himself first
and afterward for those who deserved
and here was a man who, whatever hi
acks and havings in the ethical field, waat least courageous. Having admitted s
much, the promoter went down on on
knee to lace the courageous one's shoes
dissuading him, meanwhile.
"You can't go to-day; the wound-feve
will come on presently, and you'll be
sick man. Let it rest a while. Having puhimself on the criminal side of the fenc
by trying to kill you, your partner wil
hardly dare to jump the claim in person
he will have to find a proxy, and that wilask for time,—more time than the sheriff
dodging will permit."
"His proxies are here, and they will ac
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without instructions from him," sai
Jeffard, with his hands to his head and hi
eeth set to keep the words from shapin
hemselves into a groan.
"You mean the two who were with
him?"
"Yes. So far as the present fight i
concerned, the three are one; and two o
hem are still free to act."
"So?—that's different." Denby finishe
ying the second shoe and rose to begi
measuring a sentinel's beat between th
window and the door, pacing evenly wit
his brows knitted and his hands claspe
behind him. "You know what to expect
hen?"
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"I know that I have been twice shot a
within the past two hours, and that th
moments are golden."
"But you are in no condition to go i
and hold it alone! You'll have to mee
force with force. You ought to have a
east three or four good men with you."
"What I have to do presupposes a clea
field," said Jeffard guardedly. "If it should
come to blows, the discussion of—oethics will be indefinitely postponed, I'
afraid."
"Humph! I suppose your reasons are a
strong as your obstinacy. How far is it to
your claim?"
"I don't know the exact distance; abou
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wenty miles, I believe. But there is
mountain range intervening."
"You can't ride it in your presencondition; it's a sheer physica
mpossibility."
"I shall ride it."
"What is the use of being an ass?
demanded the master of men, losin
patience for once in a way. "Don't you se
you can't stand alone?"
Jeffard struggled to his feet an
wavered across the room to a chair
Denby laughed,—a quiet little chuckle oappreciation.
"I didn't mean literally; I meant in th
business affair. You'll have to have help
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from the start. That means that you wil
have to trust some one. From what you sa
t is evident that there will be a
mmediate attempt made to jump thclaim; an attempt which will be afoot an
on the ground long before you can ge
here. Let us be reasonable and take hol
of the live facts. I have a man here who iboth capable and trustworthy. Let me send
him in with a sufficient force to stand of
he jumpers until you are able to hold you
own."
Jeffard shook his head. "I can't do it
unreasonable as it may seem. I must g
first and alone. That is another mysteryyou will say, but I can't help it. If I wi
hrough it alive I shall be here again in
day or two, ready to talk business. Mor
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han that I can't say now."
Denby's thin lips came together in
straight line, with a click of the white teetbehind them. "As you please. I am no
going about to prove to you that you woul
ose nothing by trusting me from the start
Can I do anything toward helping yooff?"
"Yes; you can give me your shoulde
down the stair and a lift into the saddle."
The little journey to the ground floo
was made in silence. When they wer
passing the desk the clerk said: "You
horse is at the door, Mr. Jeffard. I was jus
about to send up word. Are you feelin
better?"
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"I am all right." He leaned heavily o
he counter and paid his bill. "Did th
iveryman leave any message?"
"No, only to say that he has stocked th
saddle-bags as you directed."
The personally conducted journey wen
on to the sidewalk, and Denby heaved th
wounded one into the saddle, steadyin
him therein till the vertigo loosed its hold
"Anything else you can delegate?"
"No, thank you; nothing that I think of."
"You are still determined to go?"
"Quite determined."
"Well, you are a stubborn madman, and
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rather like you for it; that's all I have t
say. Good luck to you."
Jeffard gathered the reins and sareflective what time the broncho sniffe
he cool breeze pouring down from th
higher slopes of the western range. Whe
he horse would have set out, Jeffarrestrained him yet another moment.
"You intimated a few minutes ago that
was afraid to trust you, Mr. Denby," hesaid, picking and choosing among th
words as one who has a difficult course t
steer. "I do trust you as far as I can trus
any one at the present crisis, and I'll provt." He drew a crumpled bit of paper fro
his pocket, and smoothed it upon th
pommel of the saddle. "Here is a roug
map of the claim and the trails by which i
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may be reached. If I'm not back in Aspe
n three days, fit out your expedition an
go in prepared to take and hold th
property. The men you will find ipossession will be robbers,—an
murderers,—and you may have to fight fo
t; but that won't matter. In the right-hand
unnel wall, a few feet from the entranceyou will see a crevice where the dynamit
was kept. In the bottom of that crevic
you'll find my last will and testament, an
'm going to believe that you will carry ou
ts provisions to the letter."
The promoter's smile was of grimness
with quarterings of approval.
"Which is to say that you'll be safel
dead and buried. Barring your idioti
stubbornness, you are a man after my ow
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heart, Mr. Jeffard, and I'll willingly b
your executor. Are you armed?"
"No; I told you it would depend upospeed. I have no weapons."
"What! And you are going on a forlor
hope with an even chance of having t
fight for your life? Wait a minute."
He ran back into the hotel, coming ou
again presently with a repeating rifle an
a well-filled cartridge belt. "There is suc
a thing as cold nerve carried to th
vanishing point in foolhardiness, Mr
Jeffard," he said. "Put this belt on while
sling the rifle under the saddle-flap. Ca
you shoot straight?"
"It is extremely doubtful. A little targe
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practice as a boy"—
"Target practice!—and you may have
o stand off a gang of desperadoes whcan clip coins at a hundred yards! You'd
better reconsider and give me time t
organize a posse."
"No; thank you—for that an
everything else. Good-by."
Denby stood on the curb and watche
his man ride slowly up the street and tak
he turn toward the southern mountains
After which he went back to his place a
he public writing-table in the lobby
picking up the hotel stenographer on th
way. For a preoccupied half-hour h
dictated steadily, and when the last lette
was answered got up to pace out th
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ranscribing interval. In the midst of it h
drifted out to the sidewalk and stoo
staring absently up the street, as, an hou
earlier, he had gazed after the lesseninfigure of the obstinate one. But this tim
here were two horsemen in the field o
vision wending their way leisurely to th
street-end. Denby, thinking pointedly oother things, saw them and saw them no
but when they, too, took the turn to th
southward, he came alive to th
probabilities in the heart of an instant.
"By all that's good!—they're after him
as sure as fate!" he muttered; and a littl
ater he was quizzing the proprietor of ivery stable around the corner.
"Do you know those two fellows wh
have just left, Thompson?"
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"You bet I don't; and I made 'em put up
he collateral for the whole outfit befor
hey got away."
"Where did you say they were going?"
"Didn't say, did I? But somewheres up
Jackfoot Gulch was what they told me."
"H'm; that is east. And just now the
are riding in another direction. You sold
hem the horses, you say?"
The man grinned. "Temp'rarily. I'll tak
em back at the same price, less the tariff
f I ever see 'em again. I ain't takin' n
chances on stray strangers with any sucookin'-glass-bustin' faces as they've got
ot much, Mary Ann."
"It is well to be careful. Have you see
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my man Donald since dinner?"
"Yes; he was here just now and said
he'd be back again. Want him?"Denby looked at his watch. "Yes. If he
doesn't come back within five minutes
send some of the boys out to hunt him up
Tell him to outfit for himself and me fo
wo days, and to be at the hotel at three
sharp. Give him the best horses you ca
ay your hands on."
"Always yours to command, Mr
Denby. Anything else?"
"That's all."
The promoter left the stable an
walked quickly to the hotel. At th
entrance he met an acquaintance an
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stopped to pass the time of day.
"How are you, Roberts?—By the way
you are just the man I wanted to see; saveme a trip to the Court House. Did a fellow
named Jeffard, J-e-f-f-a-r-d, file a notic
and affidavit on a claim called the 'Midas
ust after dinner?"
"No. He came over to ask me if ther
was any way in which he could secur
himself. It seems that he neglected to posa notice on the claim before coming ou
with his samples,—why, he didn
explain."
Denby nodded and went on, talking t
himself. "So!—that's his little mystery, i
t? The 'Midas' isn't located yet, and unti
he gets that notice posted and recorded
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t's anybody's bonanza. I hope Donald ca
pick up the trail and follow it. If he can'
here'll be one plucky fellow less in th
world, and two more thugs to be hangedater on."
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CHAPTER XX
A topographical map of that portion o
he Saguache known as the Elk Mountai
Range—the spur which forms th
watershed between the Gunnison and th
Grand—will include a primeval valle
gashing the range southeastward fro
Tourtelotte on the Ashcroft trail, andheading fifteen miles farthe
wildernessward in a windswept pas
across the summit of the watershed. It
watercourse, a tumbling torrent fed by thmelting snows in the higher gulches, is
ributary of the Roaring Fork; and
disused pack-trail, which once served
scattered pioneer corps of prospectors
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climbs by tortuous stages to th
windswept pass, now swerving from ban
o bank of the stream, and now heading
ateral gulch or crossing the point of barrier spur.
It is a crystalline afternoon in mid
autumn. Indian summer on the higplateaus of the continent's crest there i
none, but instead, a breathing space o
ife-giving days, with the bouquet of fin
old wine in the keen-edged air, and ofrosty nights when the stars swing clear i
llimitable space. Positive coloring, othe
han the sombre greens of pine and fir, i
acking. The season of bursting buds anquickening leaf tints is over, and wha
ittle deciduous vegetation the altitud
permits is present only in twig tracerie
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and sun-cured range grass. In the heart o
he valley the heights are heavily wooded
and the sombre greens wall out the worl
o the sky-line; but farther on bald slopeand ridges stretch away above the pine
and firs, and the blue arch of th
firmament springs clear from snow
capped abutments of fallow dun anweathered gray.
In the upper levels of the valley th
disused trail leaves the stream and begino climb by loops and zigzags to the pass
On the reverse curve of one of the loops—
he last but one in the upward path—
solitary horseman sends his mounrecklessly onward, heedless alike o
stones of stumbling and the breath-cuttin
steepness of the way. His head i
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bandaged, and he rides loose in the saddl
ike a drunken man, swaying and reeling
but evermore urging the horse by wor
and blow and the drumming of unspurreheels. His feet are thrust far into th
stirrups, and at every fresh vantage poin
he steadies himself by pommel and cantl
o scan the backward windings of the traiA man riding desperately for his life and
against time, with a handicap of physica
unfitness, one would say; but there woul
seem to be fierce determination in th
unrelenting onpush, as if wounds an
weariness were as yet no more than spur
o goad and whips to drive.The reverse curve of the loop ends o
he crest of the last of the barrier spurs
and at the crown of the ascent the fores
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hins to right and left, opening a longe
backward vista. On the bare summit th
rider turns once more in his saddle, an
he rearward glance becomes a steadeye-sweep. In the bight of the loop whic
he has just traversed the trail swings clea
of the gulch timber, and while he gaze
wo dark objects advancing abreast analternately rising and falling to a distance
softened staccato of pounding hoofs cros
he open space and double the loop. Th
wounded one measures his lead. For al
his spurrings the distance is decreasing
and a hasty survey of the trail ahead is no
reassuring. From the bald summit of thspur the bridle path winds around the hea
of another gulch, and the approach to th
pass on the farther side is a snow-banke
ncline, above timber line, uncovered, an
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within easy rifle-shot of the hill o
reconnaissance. What will befall i
measurably certain. If he attempts to hea
he traversing ravine on the trail, hipursuers will reach the bald summit, wai
and pick him off at their leisure while h
s scaling the opposite snowbank.
At the second glance a dubiou
alternative offers. The gorge in the direc
ine may not prove impassable; there is
slender chance that one may push straighacross and up the opposing slope to th
pass before the guns of the enemy can b
brought into position. Wherefore he send
he horse at a reckless gallop down thdescent to the gorge, making shift to clin
with knee and heel while he disengages
rifle from its sling under the saddle-flap
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and fills its magazine with cartridges fro
a belt at his waist.
At the bottom of the ravine thalternative vanishes; becomes a thin
nexistent, in fact. The gorge in its lowe
ength is a canyoned slit, a barrier to b
passed only by creatures with wings. Toreturn is to meet his pursuers on the bal
summit of the spur; to hesitate is equall
hazardous. The horse obeys the sudde
wrenching of the rein, spins as on a pivotand darts away up the canyon brink
Fortunately, the timber is sparse, and
uckily again, a practicable crossing i
found well within the longer detour traceby the trail. For the second time that day i
s a race to the swift; and, as before, a
accident comes between. Horse and ma
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are across the ravine, are clear of th
stunted firs, are mounting the final snow
banked incline to the pass with no mor
han a trooper's dash between them ansafety, when the sure-footed beast slips on
he packed snow of the trail, and hors
and man roll together to the bottom of th
declivity.
A few hours earlier this man had been
he football of circumstances, tosse
hither and yon as the buffetings of chancmight impel him. But the pregnant hour
have wrought a curious change in him, fo
better or worse, and before the breath
cutting plunge is checked he is free of thstruggling horse and is kicking it to its fee
o mount and ride again, charging the stee
uprising with plying lash and diggin
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heels and shouts of encouragement. Ten
seconds later the trail is regained and th
summit of the pass cuts the sky-line abov
him. Ten other flying leaps and a resoluteman may hold an army at bay. But in th
midst of them comes a clatter of hoofs o
he rocky headland across the gulch, and
nerve-melting instant wherein the hoofbeats cease and the bleak heights giv
back a muffled echo in the rarefied air
The hunted one bends to the saddle-horn a
he crack of the rifle, and the bullet sing
high. A second is better aimed, and at the
shrill hiss of it the snorting horse flatten
ts ears and lunges at the ascent witflagging powers fear-revived. A
scrambling bound or two and the fina
height is gained, but in the pivoting instan
between danger and safety a third bulle
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scores the horse's back and embeds itsel
n the cantle of the saddle with
benumbing shock to the rider.
But by this the fugitive is fair Berserk
mad, and those who would stay him mus
shoot to kill. Once out of range beyond th
crest of the pass, he drags the tremblinhorse to its haunches and whips dow
from the saddle, the wine of battle singin
n his veins and red wrath answering fo
physical fitness. A hasty glance to makesure that the broncho's wound is no
disabling, and he is back at the summit o
he pass, sheltering himself behind a roc
and sending shot after shot across thravine at his assailants. The fusillade i
harmless; wounds, mad gallops, and re
wrath being easily subversive of accurac
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n target practice; but it has the effect o
sending the enemy to the rear in discree
haste, with the dropping shots beatin
quick time for the double quartette orampling hoofs as the twain gallop out o
range behind the bald headland.
For a resolute half-hour, while thundertow of the ebbing minutes steadil
undermines the props and shores set up b
Berserk wrath, the solitary rifleman lie
watchful and vigilant. Thrice in thanterval have the attackers rallied; once i
a desperate charge to gain the cover of th
imber on the canyon's brink, and twice i
equally desperate efforts to turn thrifleman's position by following th
ooping of the trail. Notwithstanding th
bad marksmanship of the garrison th
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position has proved—still proves—
mpregnable; and the end of the half-hou
eaguer finds the intrenched one secure i
his position, with the enemy in permanencheck, and only his own waning strengt
o warn him that the pass cannot be hel
ndefinitely.
But this warning is imperative, as i
hat other of the fast westering sun; an
when a movement on the opposite heigh
gives him one more chance to announcvolley-wise that the pass is still manned
he retreats swiftly, remounts after mor
han one exhaustive effort, and canter
down the farther windings of the trail inta valley shut in on all sides by snow
coifed sentinel mountains, and with
brawling stream plunging through it
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midst; into this valley and down the lengt
of it to a narrowing of the stream path
where a rude cabin, with its door hangin
awry, looks across from the heel of thwestern cliff to the gray dump of a tunnel
opening in the opposite mountain side.
The sun has already set for the loweslopes of the shut-in valley, and the frosty
breath of the snow-capped sentinel peak
s in the air. At the door of the cabin the
winner in the desperate race slides frohe saddle. His knees are quaking, an
because of them he stumbles and fall
over the log doorstone, cursing hi
helplessness in the jolt of it. But therremains much to be done, and the sunse
glories are changing from crimson an
dusky gold on the snow-caps to roya
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purple in the shadow of the western cliff.
With many slippings and stumblings h
crosses the foot-log and climbs to thevel of the tunnel-opening opposite
constraining the unwilling horse to follow
With a stone for a hammer he tacks
square of paper on one of the struts of thimbered entrance; and after anothe
struggle feebly fierce the horse is dragge
nto the low-browed cavern and tethere
out of harm's way. By the leaden-footedstep of the man one would say that the las
reserves of determination have bee
called in and are far spent; but he will no
desist. With four stakes taken from thheap of wooden treenails used in th
unnel timbering he drags himself fro
corner to corner of the claim, pacing it
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boundaries and marking the points o
ntersection with dogged exactness. Whe
he final stake is driven he can no longe
stand upright, and is fain to win back the tunnel on hands and knees with groan
and futile tooth-gnashings.
But the aftermath of the task still waitsshall wait until he has barricaded th
unnel's mouth with an up-piling o
imbers, fragments of rock, odds and end
movable, with a counterscarp of loosearth to make it bullet-proof—the las
scraped up with bleeding hands from th
débris at the head of the dump.
This done, he drags himself over th
barricade, finds the saddle-bags again
and strikes a light. The candle flame is bu
a yellow puncture in the thick gloom of th
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unnel, but it serves his purpose, which i
o scrawl a few words on a blank page o
an engineer's note-book,—sole reminde
of the thrifty forecast of saner days beyonhe descent into the nether depths. A
mprecation bubbles up to punctuate th
signature; a pointless cursing, which is n
more than a verbal mask for a groaextorted by the agony of the effort to guid
he pencil point. The malison strings itsel
out into broken sentences of justification
mere ravings, as pointless as the curse
"Finders are keepers,—that's the law o
he strong. 'He that hath clean hands shal
be stronger and stronger.' I found it andgave it back, and he drowned it in
bottle.... Now it is mine; and to-morrow
'll be dead. But she'll know that I haven
—that I haven't—quite—forgotten."
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To pain-blurred eyes the candle flame
has faded to a nebulous point in th
darkness, but still the light suffices. H
has neither envelope nor sealing-wax, buhe makes shift to seal the book with
wrapping of twine and a bit of pitc
scraped from the nearest strut in th
imbering. After which he seeks and findhe crevice in which Garvin kept hi
explosives; and when the note-book i
safely hidden, drops exhausted behind th
breastwork, with the rifle at his shoulder
beginning his vigil what time the firs
silvery flight of moon-arrows is pourin
upon cliff-face and cabin opposite.
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CHAPTER XXI
It is a fact no less deprecable than tru
hat events in orderly sequence do no
always lend themselves to the purposes o
a chronicler who would be glad to pric
n his climaxes with a pen borrowed o
he dramatist. With some little labor, and
he help of not a few coincidences whicmay fairly be called fortuitous, the marc
of events in the life of Henry Jeffard ha
ed up to a point at which the fictiona
unities pause, confidently anticipative of climax which shall reëcho the heroi
struggle of the Spartan few a
Thermopylæ, or the daring-do of th
Pontine Horatius. But the facts ar
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nexorable and altogether disappointing
With prologue and stage-setting for
Sophoclean tragedy, the piece halts; hang
n the wind at the critical conjuncture lika misstaying ship; becomes, in point o
fact, a mere modern comedy-drama with
ouch of travesty in it; and the unities
fictional and dramatic, shriek and expire.
This humiliating failure of the dramati
possibilities turns upon an inconsequen
pivot-pin in the human mechanismnamely, the lack of courage in the las
resort in men of low degree. To kidnap a
drunken man or to pistol an unarmed on
s one thing; to force a sky-pitcheGibraltar defended by a resolute fellow
being with a modern high-power repeatin
rifle and an itching trigger-finger is quit
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another. This was the conservative poin
of view of the aliased ones; and after th
final futile attempt to gain the trail and th
cover of the timber, the twain held council of war, vilified their luck, and
sounded a retreat.
Thus it came about that Denby and himan, riding tantivy to the rescue, met th
raiders two miles down the trai
Aspenward; and having this eye-assuranc
hat the foray had failed, the promoter waminded to go back to town to awai
Jeffard's return. But, having the eye
assurance, he was not unwilling to ad
another. Bartrow's telegram had named thfigure of the assay; the incredible numbe
of dollars and cents to the ton to b
sweated out of the bonanza drift. Now
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assays are assays, but investment is shy o
hem, demanding mill-runs, an
conservative estimates based on averages
and pondering these things the rescuereverted to his normal character o
capitalist in ordinary to moneyles
bonanzists, and determined to go on an
see for himself. Accordingly, Jeffard'unexpected reinforcements presse
forward while the enemy was in full tid
of retreat; and a short half-hour later th
squadron of retrieval came near to payin
he penalty of an unheralded approach
since it was upon the promoter and hi
henchman that Jeffard poured his finavolley.
So much for the tragi-comedy of th
sky-pitched Gibraltar, which made
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ravesty of Jeffard's heart-breaking effort
o fortify himself in the old tunnel. And a
for the apparent determination to di
open-eyed and militant behind thbarricade, the unromantic truth again step
n to give the coup de grace to th
disappointed unities. There is a limit t
human endurance, and the hardiest soldiemay find it on a field as yet no more tha
half won. Fastings and fierce hurryings
wounds, physical and spiritual, an
ruthless determination may ride roughsho
over Nature's turnpike; but Nature wil
demand her toll. For this cause Jeffar
saw no more than the first flight of moonarrows glancing from the face of th
western cliff. Long before the Selenea
archers were fairly warmed to their wor
he had fallen asleep, with his cheek on th
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carved grip of the borrowed rifle; a los
man to all intents and purposes, if th
fictional unities had not been put to fligh
by the commonplace fact.
Behold him, then, awakening what tim
he volleying sun has changed places wit
he moon-archers. The barricaded tunnehas a dim twilight of its own, but out an
abroad the day is come, and the keen air i
innient with the fine treble of th
mountain morning. The slanting sun-firspatters the gray cliff opposite, and
spiral of blue smoke is curling peacefull
above the chimney of the cabin. And in th
shallows of the stream a man, who ineither desperado black or red, is bathin
he legs of a horse. Under such condition
one may imagine a recreant sentry rubbin
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his eyes to make sure, and presentl
climbing the barricade to slide down th
dump into parley range, question-charged
Denby unbent, smiling. "Didn't I sa
hat you were an inconsiderate madman
You had to sleep or die."
"But when did you get here?"
"About the time the proxies woul
have arrived, if you hadn't succeeded i
discouraging them. It was late; much late
han it would have been if you hadn't give
us such an emphatic stand-off at th
summit. Come across and have som
breakfast with us."
Jeffard found the foot-log and mad
shift to walk it.
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"Did I fire at you? I thought it wa
another charge coming. They had bee
rying to rush me."
"So I inferred. We camped down out o
range and gave you plenty of time. You
may be no marksman, but"—He finishe
he sentence in dumb show by taking ofhis hat and pointing to a bullet score in th
crown of it. "A few inches lower and yo
would have spoiled your first chance o
capitalizing the Midas. How do you feehis morning?"
"A bit unresponsive, but better than
have a right to expect. What became of thwo raiders?"
"We met them riding a steeplechase
oward town. You discouraged them, as
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said. From Donald's count of the bullet
splashes on that bald summit you mus
have gotten in your work pretty lively."
Jeffard lowered the hammer of the rifl
and emptied the magazine. "It's a goo
weapon," he said. "I believe I could lear
o shoot with it, after a while. Will yosell it?"
"Not to any one. But I'll make you
present of it. Let's go in and see whaDonald has found in his saddle-bags. It's
fine breakfast morning."
So they went into the cabin and sat a
meat on either side of a rough table o
Garvin's contriving, and were served by
solemn-faced Scot, whose skill as a cam
cook was commensurate with his ability t
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hold his tongue. Notwithstanding th
presumable urgencies the breakfast tal
was not of business. Jeffard would hav
had it so, but Denby forbade.
"Not yet," he objected. "Not until yo
have caught up with yourself. Afte
breakfast Donald will sling you a blankehammock under the trees, and you shal
sleep the clock around. Then you'll fee
fit, and we can talk futures if you please."
If there were a prompting of suspicio
n the glance with which Jeffard met thi
proposal it remained in abeyance. Wit
every embrasure gunned and manned thfortress of this life must always b
pregnable on the human side; in the las
resort one must trust something to th
chance of loyalty in the garrison
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Wherefore Jeffard accepted the promoter'
pipe and the blanket hammock, and fel
asleep while Donald was pulling dow
he barricade at the tunnel's moutpreparatory to liberating the neighin
horse stabled in the heading.
It was evening, just such another as thaone three months agone, in the heart o
which two men had sat at the cabin doo
ooking a little into each other's past
when Jeffard opened his eyes. The threhorses, saddled, but with loose cinches
were cropping the sun-cured grass on th
evel which served as a dooryard for th
cabin; and an appetizing smell of fryinbacon was abroad in the air. Jeffard sat up
yawning, and the promoter rose from th
doorstep and rapped the ashes from hi
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pipe.
"Feel better?" he queried.
"I feel like a new man. I hadn't realizehat I was so nearly spent."
"That is why I prescribed the blanke
Another day would have finished you."
Jeffard slid out of the hammock an
went to plunge his face and hands in th
stream; after which they ate again as mewho postpone the lesser to the greater
with Donald the taciturn serving them, an
hunger waiving speech and ceremony.
It was yet no more than twilight whe
he meal was finished; and Denby found
candle and matches in the henchman'
saddlebags.
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"If you are ready, we'll go up to th
unnel and have another look at the lea
before we go," he said. "I have bee
examining it to-day, and I'll make you proposition on the ground, if you like."
Jeffard pieced out the inference wit
he recollection of the saddled horses.
"Do we go back to-night?"
"Yes; if you are good for it. It has been
a pretty warm day for the season, and w
are like to have more of them. There is
good bit of snow on the trail, and if i
softens we shall be shut in. That's on
reason, and another is this: if we make
deal and mean to get any machinery i
here before snow flies and the range i
blocked, we've got to be about it."
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Jeffard nodded acquiescence, and the
fared forth to cross the foot-log and toil up
he shelving slope of the gray dump. It wa
a stiff climb for a whole man, and at thsummit Jeffard sat down with his hands t
his head and his teeth agrind.
"By Jove! but that sets it in motioagain in good shape!" he groaned. "Si
down here and let's talk it out in the open
don't care to burrow."
Denby pocketed his candle, and the
sat together on the brink of the dump, wit
heir backs to the opening; and thus i
chanced that neither of them saw shadowy figure skulking among the fir
beside the tunnel's mouth. When the
began to talk the figure edged nearer
flitting ghostlike from tree to tree, an
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finally crouching under the penthouse o
he tunnel timbering.
The crimson and mauve had faded ouof the western sky when the two at th
dump-head rose, and Jeffard said: "You
alternative is fair enough. It's accepted
without conditions other than this—thayou will advance me a few hundre
dollars for my own purposes some tim
within thirty days."
"You needn't make that a condition;
should be glad to tide you over in an
event. But I am sorry you won't let me bu
n. As I have said, there is enough here foboth of us."
The aftermath of the getting up was
sharp agony, and Jeffard had his hands to
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his head again. When he answered it wa
o say:—
"I sha'n't sell. There are reasons, anyou may take this for the lack of a better
A while back, when a single meal in th
day was sometimes beyond me, I used t
say that if the tide should ever turn I'd lehe money go on piling up and up unti
here was no possibility of hunger in a
eternity of futures. You say the tide ha
urned."
"It has, for a fact; and I don't know tha
blame you. If it were mine I shoul
probably try to keep it whole."
Jeffard went on as one who follows ou
his own train of thought regardless o
answers relevant or impertinent. "I sai
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hat, and I don't know that I have change
my mind. But before we strike hands o
he bargain it may be as well to go back t
he question which you were good enougo leave in abeyance yesterday."
"The question of ethics?"
"Yes."
"I am going to take something fo
granted, if you don't choose to be fran
with me."
"It will be safer to take nothing fo
granted."
"But the claim is yours?"
"Legally, yes; there will be no
itigation."
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"But honestly, as man to man." Denby
put his hands on the wounded man'
shoulders, and turned him about so that th
fading light in the west fell upon his face"My dear fellow, I've known you but
day, but your face isn't the face of
scoundrel. I can't believe that the man wh
made the magnificent fight that you diwould make it to overreach his partner."
Jeffard turned aside, with a backwar
step that freed him from the friendlhands. Twice he tried to speak, and at the
hird attempt the words came but haltingly
"It will be better in the end—better foall concerned—if you—if you do believ
t. Believe it, and cause it to be believed
f you choose. I have counted the cost, an
am ready to take the consequences."
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Denby thrust his hands into his pocket
and began to tramp, three paces and a turn
across and across the narrow
embankment. A little light was beginningo sift in between the man and his mystery
but it was not of the sun.
"Mr. Jeffard, I'd like to ask a questionYou needn't answer it if you don't want to
Do you know who drove this tunnel?"
"I do."
"Was it the man who raced you from
Leadville to Aspen, and who shot you
when you tried to bluff him by making hi
believe that you had already located th
claim in your own name?"
"It was."
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"Then, to put it plainly, you are th
aggressor, after all. You have really
umped your partner's claim."
The promoter stopped and faced hi
man, and the skulker at the tunnel's mout
crept nearer, as a listener who may no
miss a word.
"That is what men will say, I suppose
and I shall not contradict them. He ha
forfeited his right." Jeffard said it witeyes downcast, but there was n
ncertitude in the words.
"Forfeited his right? How? By shootin
at you in a very natural fit of frenzie
rage? I can't believe that you realize th
enormity of this thing, Mr. Jeffard. You
are new to the West. It is true that the law
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can't touch you, but public opinion, th
sentiment of a mining region, will bran
you as the basest of thieves."
"That is the public's privilege. I shal
not attempt to defend myself—to you, or t
any one. The consequences are mine t
suffer or to ignore."
"You can't ignore them. Your bes
friends will turn upon you, and mining
camp justice will not only acquit the mawho tried to kill you—it will fight for hi
and condemn you."
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"But yesterday you said it would hav
given me the benefit of the doubt an
ynched him. I can fight my own battle."
"Yes, I did say so; and, lacking you
own evidence against yourself, it wil
condemn him yet. Had you thought o
hat?"
"Mr. Denby, I have answered you
questions because you had a right to as
hem. To the public I shall neither denynor affirm."
"Then you'll have the choice of posin
as a scoundrel on the one hand, or o
consenting to the death or imprisonment o
a measurably innocent man on the other.
don't envy you."
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"It is my own affair, as you were good
enough to say yesterday. Do you wish to
withdraw your proposal?"
Denby took time to think about i
pacing out his decision what time th
moon was beginning to silver the wester
snow-caps.
"No; as I have made it and you hav
accepted it, the proposal is merely
matter of service to be rendered and paifor; I furnish the capital to work the min
for a year for a certain portion of th
output. But if you had taken me up on th
original proposition, I should beg to bexcused. Under the circumstances,
shouldn't care to be a joint owner wit
you."
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"You couldn't be," said Jeffard briefly
"you, nor any one else."
"Well, we are agreed as to that. Shalwe go now? Donald is waiting, and th
moon will be up by the time we strike th
rail."
"One moment; I have left something i
he tunnel."
Jeffard turned back toward th
imbered archway, and the promoter wen
with him. In the act a shadowy figur
darted into the mouth of gloom and wa
seen by Denby.
"What was that?"
"I didn't see anything."
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Denby stumbled over the remains o
he barricade. "That must have been what
saw," he said. "But at the moment I coul
have sworn it was a man dodging into thunnel."
A few feet from the entrance Jeffard
felt along the wall for the crevice, fount, and presently thrust the note-book int
Denby's hands.
"You may remember that I told you should leave my will here against
contingency which seemed altogethe
probable. In view of what has sinc
passed between us, I sha'n't hold you tyour promise to act as my executor; but i
anything happens to me I shall be glad i
you will send that book under seal to Dic
Bartrow. You will do that much for me
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won't you?"
"Yes."
"That is all; now I am at your service."
A few minutes later the cabin and th
bit of dry sward in front of it wer
deserted, and the whispering firs haswallowed up the last faint echoes o
minishing hoof-beats. Not until the silenc
was unbroken did the shadowy figur
venture out of its hiding in the tunnel t
stumble blindly down the dump, across th
foot-log, and so to the cabin door. Here i
went down on hands and knees to quarte
he ground like a hungry animal in searc
of food. Unhappily, the simile is no
simile. It was James Garvin, who, for th
better part of two days, had not taste
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food. And when finally the patient searc
was rewarded by the retrieval of a few
scraps of bacon and pan-bread, the broke
meats of Donald's supper-table, thstarving fugitive fell upon them with
beastlike growl of triumph. But in th
midst of the scanty feast he dropped th
bread and meat to cover his face with hihands, rocking back and forth in hi
misery and sobbing like a child.
"Oh, my Gawd!—ef I hadn't hearn iout'n his own mouth ... and me a-lovin
him thess like he'd been blood-kin to me
Oh, my Gawd!"
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CHAPTER XXII
It was rather late in the autumn, too lat
o admit of a rush of prospectors to th
shut-in valley, when the fame of the new
gold-bearing district in the Elk Mountain
began to be noised about. As bonanz
fame is like to be, the earlier bruitings o
t were as nebulous as the later and mordetailed accounts were fabulous. Som
garbled story of the fight for possessio
found its way into the newspapers; an
since this had its starting-point in thresentment of the Aspen newsgathere
who had been so curtly sent to the right
about by Jeffard, it became the basis of a
accusation, which was scathing an
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fearless, or covert and retractable, in jus
proportion to the obsequiousness of th
ournalistic accusers.
In its most favorable rendering thi
story was an ugly one; but here agai
chance, in the form of reportoria
naccuracy, was kind to Jeffard. From hiboyhood people had been stumbling ove
his name; and with ample facilities fo
verifying the spelling of it the reporter
began, continued, and ended by making i"Jeffers," "Jeffreys," and in one instanc
even "Jefferson." Hence, with Bartrow a
he single exception, no one who knew
Jeffard identified him with the man whhad figured as the putative villain-hero i
he fight for possession.
Bartrow read the account of the race
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he shooting affray, and the subsequen
details of the capitalizing of the Midas
with Denby as its promoter and Jeffard a
sole owner, with judgment suspended. Iwas not in him to condemn any ma
unheard; and Jeffard had put himsel
safely out of reach of queryings, friendl
or otherwise, by burying himself for thwinter with the development force whic
he promoter had hurried across the rang
before the snows isolated the shut-i
valley. Later, when he had to pay the note
n the Leadville bank, Bartrow had
winge of dismay; but again invincibl
fairness came to the rescue, and he liftehe dishonored paper at a time when h
could ill afford to, promising himself tha
his, too, should be held in solution
should not even be precipitated i
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confidence with any one.
This promise he kept until Constanc
Elliott plumbed the depths of him, as shwas prone to do when he gave evidence o
having anything to conceal. The occasio
was the midwinter ball of the Firs
Families of Colorado; and having morhan one score to settle with the youn
miner, who had lately been conspicuou
only by his absence, Connie ha
arbitrarily revised Bartrow's programme—which contemplated a monopoly of al
he dances Miss Van Vetter would give
him.
"Well, catalogue 'em—what have
done?" demanded the unabashed one
when she had marched him into tha
particular alcove of the great hotel dining
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room which did temporary duty as
conservatory.
"Several things." Stephen Elliott'daughter was in the mood called pertnes
n disagreeable young women. "Have yo
quite forgotten that I stand in loc
arentis to the giddy and irresponsiblyoung person whose card you hav
covered with your scrawly autographs?"
The idea was immensely entertainino the young miner, who laughed so
heartily that a sentimental couple billin
and cooing behind the fan-palms too
wing immediately. "You? you chaperoningMyr—Miss Van Vetter? That's a good
one!"
"It's a bad one, where you ar
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concerned. What do you mean by such a
nconsistent breach of the proprieties?"
"Inconsistent? I'm afraid I don't quitcatch on."
"Yes, inconsistent. You bury yourself
for months on end in that powder-smell
old tunnel of yours, and about the tim
we've comfortably forgotten you, yo
straggle in with a dress-coat on your ar
and proceed to monopolize one of usWhat do you take us for?"
It was on the tip of Bartrow's tongue t
retort that he would very much like to tak
Miss Van Vetter for better or worse, bu
he had not the courage of his convictions
So he kept well in the middle of the road
and made the smoke-blackened tunnel hi
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excuse for the inconsistency.
"It isn't 'months,' Connie; or at least it'
only two of them. You know I'd be gladenough to chase myself into Denver ever
other day if I could. But it is coming dow
o brass tacks with us in the Little Myriad
and I've just got to keep my eye on thgun."
Whereupon pertness, or the Constanc
Elliott transmutation of it, vanished, anshe made him sit down.
"Tell me all about the Little Myriad
Dick. Is it going to keep its promise?"
The Little Myriad's owner sought an
found a handkerchief, using it mopwise
Curious questions touching the prospect
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of his venture on Topeka Mountain were
beginning to have a perspiratory effec
upon him.
"I wish I could know for sure, Connie
Sometimes I think it will; and some othe
imes I should think it means to go back o
me,—if I dared to."
"Isn't the lead still well-defined?
Constance dropped into the minin
echnicalities with the easy familiarity oone born in the metalliferous West.
"It is now; but two months ago, o
hereabouts, it pinched out entirely. That i
why I hibernated."
"Was the last mill-run encouraging?"
"N-no, I can't say that it was. The or
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—what little there is of it—seems t
grade rather lower as we go in. But it's
rue fissure, and it must begin to go th
other way when we get deep enough."
For a half-score of fan-sweeps Conni
was silent. Then: "Is the purse growin
ight, Dickie? Because if it is, poppa's istill comfortably fat."
Bartrow laughed in a way to indicat
hat the strain was lessened for thmoment. "I believe you and your fathe
would give away the last dollar you hav
n the world. But it hasn't come to a fres
oan with me yet."
"When it does, you know where t
float it."
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"When it does, I sha'n't rob my bes
friends. If I have to borrow more mone
for development, I'm afraid the loan wil
be classed as 'extra hazardous.' But yosaid there were several things. What els
have I done?"
"The next is something you havendone. You haven't written a line to Mr
Lansdale in all these weeks,—not even t
hank him for taking your foolish telegra
about the Margaret Gannon crisiseriously. And he tells me he has written
you twice."
"I'm a miserable sinner, and lettewriting isn't in me. Is Lansdale here? I'l
go and square myself in the most abjec
formula you can suggest."
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"He isn't here. He is out at Bennett on
ranch."
"On a ranch in midwinter? Who on topof earth told him to do that?"
"One of the doctors. I wanted t
dissuade him, but I hadn't the heart to try
He is so anxious to live."
"Naturally." Bartrow eyed hi
companion in a way which was meant t
be a measure of the things he knew an
would by no means tell, but Constanc
was opening and shutting her fan wit
nthought paramount, and saw it no
Whereat Bartrow was brutal enough t
say: "Is he going to make a go of it?"
"Oh, I hope so, Dick! It is such
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pathetic struggle. And he is like all th
others who are best worth keeping alive
he won't let any one help him. Just fanc
him working for his board on a drearprairie ranch! The monotony of it i
enough to kill him."
"I should say so. Lamb ranch, suppose?"
"Yes."
"Then I can imagine the hilarity of it
Up at all sorts of hours and in all weather
feeding and watering. That isn't what h
needs. A wagon trip in summer, with good
company, lots of outdoors, and nothing to
do but eat and sleep, would be more lik
t. If he pulls through to spring, and th
Myriad will let up on me for a month o
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wo, I don't know but I shall be tempted t
make him try it."
"Oh, Dick! would you?" There was quick upflash of wistful emotion in th
calm gray eyes. Bartrow set it down to
fresh growth in perspicacity on his ow
part that he was able to interpret it—ohought he was. But the little upflash wen
out like a taper in the dark with the adde
afterthought. "It's no use, Dick. Th
Myriad won't let you."
"Perhaps it will; though I'm bound t
admit that it doesn't look that way a
present. Now, if Jef—"
From what has gone before it will b
understood that any mention of Jeffard fo
good or ill was the one thing whic
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Bartrow had promised himself to avoid a
all hazards; wherefore he broke the nam
n the midst, coughed, dragged out hi
watch,—in short, did what manlikuntactfulness may do to create a diversion
and at the end of it found the unafraid eye
fixed upon him with mandatory orders i
hem.
"Go on," she said calmly. "If Mr
Jeffard"—
"Really, Connie, I must break it of
short; my time's up. Don't you hear th
orchestra? Miss Van Vetter will"—
But Connie was not to be turned asid
by any consideration for Bartrow'
engagements or her own; nor yet by th
nflow into the alcove-conservatory o
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sundry other fanning couples lately free
from the hop-and-slide of the two-step
or yet again by the appearance of youn
Mr. Theodore Calmaine, who came upbehind Bartrow and was straightwa
ransfixed and driven forth wit
pantomimic cut and thrust.
"Myra will have no difficulty in findin
a partner. Don't be foolish, Dick. I hav
known all along that you have learne
something about Mr. Jeffard which yowouldn't tell me. You may remember tha
you have persistently ignored m
questions in your answers to my letters,—
and I paid you back by telling you little onothing about Myra. Now what were yo
going to say?"
"I was going to say that if Jeffard wer
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ike what he used to be, he would do fo
Lansdale what I shall probably not be abl
o do."
"What do you know about Mr
Jeffard?"
"What all the world knows—and
ittle more. Of course you have read wha
he newspapers had to say?"
"I have never seen a mention of hi
name."
"Why, you must have; they were full o
t a month or two ago, and will be again a
soon as the range opens and we find ouwhat the big bonanza has been doin
hrough the winter. You don't mean to say
hat you didn't read about the free-gol
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strike in the Elk Mountains, and th
ocomotive race, and the shooting scrap
n the hotel at Aspen, and all that?"
The steady eyes were veiled an
Connie's breath came in nervous littl
gasps. Any man save downright Richard
Bartrow would have made a swifdiversion, were it only to an open window
or back to the ballroom. But he sa
stocklike and silent, letting her wi
hrough the speechlessness of it to thfaltered reply.
"I—I saw it; yes. But the name of tha
man was—was not Jeffard."
"No, it was Jeffers, or anything tha
came handy in the newspaper accounts
But that was a reporter's mistake."
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"Dick,"—the steadfast eyes wer
ransfixing him again,—"are you quit
sure of that?"
"I ought to be. I was the man wh
helped him out at the pinch and got hi
started on the locomotive chase."
"You helped him?—then all those
hings they said about him were true?"
It was Bartrow's turn to hesitate. "I—
'm trying not to believe that, Connie."
"But you know the facts; or at least
more of them than the newspapers told
Did the claim really belong to him, or tJames Garvin?"
Bartrow crossed his legs, uncrosse
hem, and again had recourse to his watch
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"I wish you'd leave the whole busines
up in the air, Connie, the way I'm trying to
t doesn't seem quite fair, somehow, to
condemn him behind his back."
"But the facts," she insisted. "You
know them, don't you?"
"Yes; and they're against him.
Bartrow confessed it in sheer desperation
"The claim was Garvin's; Jeffard not onl
admitted it, but he started out on the chaswith the declared determination o
standing between Garvin and those tw
blacklegs who were trying to plunder him
That's all; that's as far as my facts goBeyond that you—and the newspapers—
know as much as I do."
"Not quite all, Dick. You say you
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helped him; that means that you lent hi
money, or borrowed it for him. Did h
ever pay it back?"
Bartrow got upon his feet at that an
glowered down upon her with mingle
chagrin and awe in gaze and answer.
"Say, Connie, you come precious nea
o being uncanny at times, don't you know
t? That was the one thing I didn't mean t
ell any one. Yes, I borrowed for him; andno, he didn't pay it back. That's all—all o
he all. If you put me in a stamp-mill yo
couldn't pound out anything else. Now, fo
pity's sake, let me get back to Miss VanVetter before I fall in with the notion tha
'm too transparent to be visible to th
naked eye."
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She rose and took his arm.
"You're good, Dickie," she said softly
"much too good for this world. I'm sorrfor you, because it earns you so man
buffetings."
"And you think I'm in for another o
Jeffard's account."
"I am sure you are—now. The last tim
saw him he wore a mask; a horribl
mask of willful degradation and cynicis
and self-loathing; but I saw behind it."
They were making a slow circuit of th
ballroom in search of Connie's cousin, anhe throng and the music isolated them.
"What did you see?"
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"I saw the making of a strong man
strong for good or for evil; a man wh
could compel the world-attitudes that mos
of us have to sue for, or who would bstrong enough on the evil side to flout an
gnore them. I thought then that he was a
he parting of the ways, but it seems I wa
mistaken,—that the real balancing momencame with what poppa calls the 'high
mountain bribe,'—Satan's offer of th
kingdoms of this world and the glory o
hem."
Now, a thronged ballroom is scarcel
a fit place for heart-to-heart outreachings
but there be loyal hearts who are noconstrained by their encompassments, an
Bartrow was of that brotherhood. The
had attained a corner where one migh
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swing a short-sword without fear o
beheading the nearest of the dancers o
out-sitters, and he faced about and too
both of Connie's hands in his.
"Do you know, little sister, I'm awfully
glad you're able to talk that way abou
him. There was a time when I began to bafraid—for your sake first, and afterwar
for"—
It is conceivable that the frankest oyoung women may have some reserves o
ime and place, if not of subjects, an
before honest Dick could finish
Constance had freed herself and wareproaching young Calmaine for no
seeking her out for the dance in process,—
which was his.
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Teddy's apology had in it the flavor o
ong acquaintance and the insolenc
hereof. "You're a cool one," he said
when they had left Bartrow behind. "As ididn't stand for five good minutes at th
door of that conservatory place, with yo
eye-pistoling and daggering me to mak
me go away!"
Thinking about it afterward, Bartrow
wondered a little that Connie seemed ben
on ignoring him through the remainder ohe functional hours, large and small, bu
so it was. And when finally he wa
constrained to put Miss Van Vetter in the
carriage, Connie's good-night and good-bwere of the briefest. Miss Van Vetter, too
was silent on the homeward drive, an
his Connie remarked, charging it openl
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o Dick's account when they were befor
he fire in Myra's room contemplating th
necessity of going to bed.
"No, Mr. Bartrow was all that the mos
exacting person could demand,—an
more," said Miss Van Vetter, going to the
mirror to begin the relaxing process. "Iwas something he told me."
"About Mr. Jeffard?"
"Yes; how did you know?"
"I didn't know—I guessed."
"Isn't it dreadful!"
"No. Some of the other things he di
might have been that; but this i
unspeakable."
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Myra turned her back upon the mirro
and came to stand behind Connie's chai
with her arms about her cousin's neck.
"Connie, dear, do you know that on
ime I was almost afraid that you,—bu
now I am glad,—glad that your point o
view is—is quite extrinsic, you know."
Connie's gaze was upon the fire in th
grate, fresh-stirred and glowing,
circumstance which may have accountefor the sudden trembling of the eyelids an
he upwelling of tears in the steadfas
eyes. And as for the nervous little quave
n her voice, there was fatigue to answefor that.
"I—I'm so glad you all take that fo
granted," she said. "I don't know what
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should do if you didn't."
And a little later Myra went to bed an
o sleep, wondering if, after all, therwere not secret places in the heart of he
ransparent kinswoman which evaded th
search-warrant of cousinly disinterest.
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CHAPTER XXIII
The obsequious waiter had cleared th
able and brought in the dessert, and wa
hovering in the middle distance with tw
cigars in a whiskey glass. The persiflan
young people at the other end of the tabl
rose and went away, leaving a gratefu
silence behind them; and the clericagentleman at Lansdale's right folded hi
napkin in absent-minded deference t
home habit, and slipped sidewise out o
his chair as if reluctant to mar the newborn hush.
Bartrow was down from the mine o
he ostensible business of restocking th
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commissariat department of the Littl
Myriad,—a business which, prior to Mis
Van Vetter's Denver year, had transacted
tself indifferently well by letter,—andLansdale was dining with him at the hote
by hospitable appointment. There wer
months between this and their las
meeting, an entire winter, in point of factbut it is one of the compensations of man
o-man friendships that they ignor
absences and bridge intervals smoothly
uncoupling and upcoupling again wit
small jar of accountings for the incident
of the lacuna.
Because of the persiflant young peoplehe fire of query and rejoinder had bee
he merest shelling of the woods on eithe
side; but with the advent of quiet Bartrow
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said: "Your winter on the lamb-ranch
didn't do you much good, did it?"
"Think not?" Lansdale looked uquickly, with a pathetic plea fo
heartening in the deep-set eyes of him. "
was hoping you'd say it had. I fee
stronger—at times."
Bartrow saw the plea and the pathos o
t, and added one more to the innumerabl
contemnings of his own maladroitness. Hwas quite sure of his postulate, however
—as sure as he was of the unnecessar
cruelty of setting it in words. Lansdal
was visibly failing. The clean-shaven facwas thin to gauntness, and the dark eye
were unnaturally bright and wistfu
Bartrow bribed the ubiquitous waiter t
remove himself, making the incident a
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excuse for changing the subject.
"Never saw or heard anything more o
Jeffard, did you?" he said, pitching thconversational quoit toward a known pe
of common interest, and taking it fo
granted that Lansdale, like Connie, had no
read the proletary's name into thnewspaper misspellings.
"Not a thing. And I have ofte
wondered what happened."
"Then Connie hasn't told you?"
"Miss Elliott? No; I didn't know sh
knew him."
"She met him a time or two; which i
another way of saying that she knows hi
better than we do. She's a whole assa
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outfit when it comes to sizing people up."
"What was her opinion of Jeffard?
Lansdale was curious to know if iconfirmed his own.
"Oh, she thinks he is a grand rascal, o
course,—as everybody does."
"Naturally," said Lansdale, having i
mind the proletary's later reincarnations a
vagrant and starveling. "You didn't see
much of him after he got fairly into th
oboggan and on the steeper grades, di
you?"
"Here in Denver?—no. But what I disee was enough to show that he was prett
badly tiger-bitten. You told me afterward
hat he took the post-graduate course in hi
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particular specialty."
"He did; sunk his shaft, as you minin
folk would say, straight on down to thchaotic substrata; pawned himsel
piecemeal to feed the animals, and wen
hungry between times by way of contrast.
"Poor devil!" said Bartrow, speakin
n the past tense.
"Yes, in all conscience; but not so
much for what he suffered as for what h
was."
The distinction was a little abstruse fo
a man whose nayword was obviousnessbut for the better part of a year Bartrow
had been borrowing of Miss Van Vetter
among other things some transplantings o
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subtlety.
"That's where we come apart," h
objected, with amiable obstinacy. "Youhink the root of the thing is in the man,—
has been in him all along, and onl
waiting for a chance to sprout. Now
don't. I think it's in the atmosphere; in th—the"—
"Environment?" suggested Lansdale.
"Yes, I guess that's the word
something outside of the man; somethin
hat he didn't make, and isn't altogether t
blame for, and can't always control."
The man with a moiety of the seer's gif
suffered his eyebrows to arch query-wise
"Doesn't that ask for a remodeling of th
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accepted theory of good and evil?"
"No, you don't!" laughed Bartrow
"You are not going to pull me in over myhead, if I know it. But I'll wrestle with yo
from now till midnight on my own ground
You take the best fellow in the world
brought up on good wholesome bread anmeat and the like, and stop his rations fo
awhile. Then, when he is hungry enough
you give him a rag to chew, and he'l
proceed to chew it,—not necessarilbecause he likes the taste of the rag, o
because he was born with the rag-chewin
appetite, but simply for the reason that yo
have put it in his mouth, and, being hungryhe's got to chew something. Jeffard is
case in point."
"Let us leave Jeffard and the persona
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point of view out of the question and stan
t upon its own feet," rejoined Lansdale
warming to the fray. "Doubtless Jeffard'
problem is divisible by the commohuman factor, whatever that may be, bu
your theory makes it too easy for the evil
doer. Consequently I can't admit it,—no
even in Jeffard's case."
"I could make you admit it," retorte
Bartrow, with generous warmth, forgettin
he dishonored note in the Leadville bankand remembering only the year agon
partnership in brother-keeping. "You can
size people up ten times to my once,—yo
ought to; it's right in your line,—but know Jeffard worlds better than you do
and I could tell you things about him tha
would make you weep. Since he did thos
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hings I've had a rattling good chance t
change my mind about him, but I'm no
going to do it till I have to. I'm going t
keep on believing that away down deepunder this devil's-drift of—what was i
you called it?—environment, there's
streak of good clean ore. It may take th
stamp-mill or the smelter to get it out, but's there all the same. He may fall dow
on you and me and all of his friends at an
one of a dozen pinches,—he has falle
down on me, and pretty middling hard
oo,—but there will come a pinc
sometime that will pull him up short, an
hen you'll see what is in the lower levelof him,—what was there all the time
waiting for somebody to sink a shaft dee
enough to tap it."
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Lansdale took the cigar Bartrow wa
proffering and clipped the end of i
reflectively deliberate. He was silent s
ong that Bartrow said: "Well? you donbelieve it, eh?"
"I wouldn't say that," Lansdale rejoine
abstractedly; "anyway, not of JeffardPerhaps you are right. He has given me th
same impression at times, but he wa
always saying or doing somethin
mmediately afterward to obliterate it. Buwas wondering why you prophesy s
confidently about a man who, for aught w
know, took himself out of the world th
better part of a year ago."
"Suicided?—not much! He's alive al
right; very much alive and very much o
op, as far as money is concerned. You
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don't read the papers, I take it?"
Lansdale's smile was of weariness
"Being at present a reporter on one ohem I read them as little as may be. Wha
should I have read that I didn't?"
"To begin back a piece, you should
have read last fall about the big free-gol
strike in the Elk Mountains, and a
exciting little scrap between two men t
get the first location on it."
"I remember that."
"Well, one of the men—the successfu
one—was Jeffard; our Jeffard. Younewspaper accomplices didn't spell hi
name right,—won't spell it right yet,—bu
t's Henry Jeffard, and yesterday'
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Coloradoan' says he's on his way t
Denver to play leading man in the bonanz
show."
Lansdale went silent what time it too
o splice out the past with the present
After which he said: "I understand now
why Miss Elliott condemns him, but noquite clearly why you defend him. As
remember it, the man who got possessio
of the Midas posed as a highwayman o
he sort that the law can't punish. What hahe to say for himself?"
Bartrow shook his head. "I don't know
haven't seen him since one day last falhe day of the locomotive chase."
"Did you know then that he was goin
o steal his partner's mine?"
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"No. I thought then that he was going t
do the other thing. And I'll not believe ye
hat he hasn't done the other thing. It's th
finish I'm betting on. He may have flowhe track at all the turns,—at this last tur
as well as the others,—but when it come
o the home stretch, you watch him put hi
shoulder into the collar and remembewhat I said. I hope we'll both be there t
see."
"So be it," Lansdale acquiesced. "Isn't in me to smash any man's ideal. And
f anything could make me have faith in m
kind, I think your belief in the inheren
virtue of the race would work thmiracle."
Bartrow laughed again, and pushe
back his chair.
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"It does you a whole lot of good t
play at being a cold-blooded man-hater
doesn't it? But it's no go. Your practice
doesn't gee with your preaching. Let's gout on the porch and smoke, if it won't b
oo cool for you."
They left the dining-room together anstrolled out through the crowded lobby
ighting their cigars at the news-stand i
passing. There was a convention of som
sort in progress, and a sprinkling of thdelegates, with red silk badges displayed
was scattered among the chairs on th
veranda. Bartrow found two chairs a littl
apart from the decorated ones, faced themand tilted his own against the railing
When his cigar was well alight h
bethought him of a neglected duty.
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"By the way, old man, I've never had
he grace to say 'much obliged' for you
neatness and dispatch in carrying out m
wire order. I suppose you've forgotten imonths ago, but I haven't. It was good o
you. Connie wrote me about it at the time
and she said a whole lot of pretty thing
about the way you climbed into thbreach."
"Did she?" Lansdale's habitual reserv
fell away from him like a cast garmentand if Bartrow had been less oblivious t
face readings he might have seen tha
which would have made his heart ache
But he saw nothing and went on, followinhis own lead.
"Yes; she said you took hold like a
good fellow, and hung on like a dog to
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root,—that is, she didn't say that, o
course, but that was the sense of it. I'
obliged, a whole lot."
"You needn't be. The obligation is on
my side. It was a pleasure to try to hel
Miss Elliott, even if I wasn't able t
accomplish anything worth mentioning."
"Yes. She's good people; there's no
discount on that. But say, you didn't siz
up Pete Grim any better than you had to. Agood stiff bluff is about the only thing h
can appreciate."
"If you had heard me talk to him yo
would have admitted that I was trying t
bluff him the best I knew how," said
Lansdale.
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Bartrow laughed unfeelingly. "Tried to
scare him with a lawsuit, didn't you? Wha
do you suppose a man like Grim cares fo
he law? Why, bless your innocent soul, hcan buy all the law he needs six days i
he week and get it gratis on the seventh
But you might have fetched him down wit
a gun."
Lansdale tried to imagine himsel
attempting such a thing and failed. "I'
afraid I couldn't have done that—successfully. It asks for a little practice
doesn't it? and from what I have learned o
Mr. Peter Grim in my small dealings with
him, I fancy he wouldn't make a verractable lay-figure for a beginner t
experiment on. But we worried the thin
hrough after a fashion, and recovered th
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young woman's sewing-machine finally."
"Bought Grim off, didn't you?"
"That was what it amounted to. MisElliott's father came to the rescue."
"There's a man for you!" declare
Bartrow. "Built from the ground up, andwhite all the way through. And Connie'
ust like him. She's first cousin to th
angels when she isn't making game of you
But I suppose you don't need to hav
anybody sing her praises to you at this lat
day."
"No; that is why I say the obligation ion my side. I am indebted to your 'wir
order' for more things than I could wel
catalogue."
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Bartrow rocked gently on the hinde
egs of his chair, assuring himself that on
of the things needed not to be listed. Afte
which he became diplomatically abstruson his own account. Two of the decorate
ones came by, promenading arm in arm
and he waited until they were out o
hearing.
"Found them good people to know
didn't you? Bueno! You used to hibernate
a heap too much." Then, with laborendifference: "What do you think of Mis
Van Vetter?"
Lansdale laughed.
"Whatever you would like to have m
hink, my dear boy. Shall I say that she i
he quintessence of all the virtuous grace
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and the graceful virtues?—a paragon o
para—"
"Oh, come off!" growled the abstrusone. "You've been taking lessons o
Connie. You know what I mean. Do I—
hat is—er—do you think I stand a ghos
of a show there? Honest, now."
"My dear Richard, if I could look int
he heart of a young woman and read wha
s therein written, I could pass poverty ihe street with a nod contemptuous. I'd b
a made man."
"Oh, you be hanged, will you? You're a
wild ass of the lamb-ranches, and wisdo
has shook you," Bartrow rejoined
relapsing into vituperation. "Why can't yo
quit braying for a minute or so and b
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serious? It's a serious world, for th
bigger part."
"Do you find it so? with a Miss VanVetter for an eye-piece to your telescope?
am astonished."
Bartrow pulled his hat over his eye
and enveloped himself in a cloud o
smoke. "When you're ready to fold up you
ears and be human people again, just le
me know, will you?" This from the midsof the smoke-cloud.
"Don't sulk, my Achilles; you shal
have your Briseis,—if you can get her,
aughed Lansdale. "Miss Van Vetter hasn'
made a confidant of me, but I'll tell you
ot of encouraging little fibs, if that wil
help you."
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Bartrow fanned an opening in th
obacco-nimbus. "What do you think abou
t?"
"I think I should find out for myself, if
were you," said Lansdale, with becomin
gravity.
"I don't believe you would."
"Why?"
"Miss Van Vetter is rich."
"And Mr. Richard Bartrow is onl
potentially so. That is a most excellen
reason, but I shouldn't let it overweigcommon sense. From what Miss Ellio
has said I infer that her cousin's fortune i
not large enough to overawe the owner o
a promising mine."
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Bartrow's chair righted itself with
crash.
"That's the devil of it, Lansdale; that'ust what scares me out. I've been peckin
away in the Myriad for a year and a hal
now, and we're in something over fou
hundred feet—in rock, not ore. If we donstrike pay in the immediate hence I'm
ruined community. I've borrowed right an
eft, and piled up debt enough to keep m
n a cold sweat for the next ten yearsThat's the chilly fact, and I leave it to yo
f I hadn't better take the night train an
skip out for Topeka Mountain withou
going near Steve Elliott's."
The red-badges were passing again
and Lansdale took time to consider it. Th
appeal threw a new side-light on th
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character of the young miner, and
Lansdale made mental apologies fo
having misjudged him. When he replied i
was out of the heart of sincerity.
"It's a hard thing to say, but if you hav
stated the case impartially, I don't know
but you would better do just that, DickFrom what I have seen of Miss Van
Vetter, I should hazard a guess that the
success or failure of the Little Myria
wouldn't move her a hair's-breadth, buhat isn't what you have to consider."
"No." Bartrow said it from the teet
outward, looking at his watch. "It's toughbut I guess you're right. I can just abou
make it if I get a quick move. Will you go
down to the train with me?"
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Lansdale assented, and they walked th
few squares to the Union Depot in silence
The narrow-gauge train was coupled an
ready to leave, and Bartrow tossed hihandbag to the porter of the sleeping-car.
"You're a cold-blooded beggar, do you
know it?" he said, turning upon Lansdalwith as near an approach to petulance a
his invincible good-nature woul
sanction. "Here I've lost a whole day an
ridden a hundred and fifty miles just to gea sight of her, and now you won't let m
have it."
Lansdale laughed and promptly evadehe responsibility. "Don't lay it on m
shoulders; I have sins enough of my ow
o answer for. It's a little hard, as you say
but it is your own suggestion."
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"Is it? I don't know about that. It ha
been with me for a good while, but i
never knocked me quite out until I bega
o wonder what you'd do in my place. Thasettled it. And you're not out of it by
arge majority. What are you going to tel
hem up at Elliott's?—about me, I mean."
"Why should I tell them anything?"
"Because you can't help yourself
Elliott knows I'm in town,—knows wwere going to eat together. I met him on
he way up to dinner."
"Oh, I'll tell them anything you say."
"Thanks. Fix it up to suit yourself,—
wired to come back on first train, o
something of that sort. Anything'll do
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anything but the truth."
Lansdale's smile was inscrutable. H
was thinking how impossible it would bfor the most accomplished dissembler t
ell aught but the truth with Constanc
Elliott's calm gray eyes upon him.
"I am afraid I shall make a mess of it."
"If you do, I'll come back and murde
you. It's bad enough as it is. I've got a few
days to go on, and I don't want them t
know that the jig is definitely up until i
can't be helped."
"Then you'd better write a note and dyour own lying," said Lansdale. "I ca
spin fetching little fictions on paper an
sign my name to them, but I'm no good a
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he other kind."
The engine-bell clanged, putting th
alternative out of the question."That lets me out," Bartrow said. "You
go up there and square it right for me
savez? And say, Lansdale, old man; don
work yourself too hard. In spite of th
amb-ranch, you look thinner than usua
and that's needless. Good-by."
Bartrow wrung his friend's hand fro
he steps of the Pullman, and Lansdal
aughed quite cheerfully.
"Don't you waste any sympathy on me,he said. "I'm going to disappoint you al
and get well. Good-night; and success t
he Little Myriad."
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CHAPTER XXIV
Lansdale stood watching the two re
eyes on the rear platform of the sleeping
car until the curve on the farther side o
he viaduct blotted them out; after whic
he fell in with the tide of humanity ebbin
cityward through the great arch of th
station, and set out to do Bartrow's erranat the house in Colfax Avenue.
On the way he found time to admir
Bartrow's manliness. The little deed o
self-effacement promised a much keene
sense of the eternal fitness of things tha
he had expected to come upon, in th
young miner, or in any son of th
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untempered wilderness. Not that th
wilderness was more mercenary than th
ess strenuous world of an olde
civilization—rather the contrary; but if igave generously it was also prone to tak
freely. Lansdale wrought out the antithesi
as a small concession to his own point o
view, and was glad to set Bartrow's selfabnegation over against it. Assuredly h
would do what a friendly man migh
oward making good the excuses of th
magnanimous one.
It was Miss Van Vetter who met him a
he door, and he thought he surprised
shadow of disappointment in her eyewhen she welcomed him. But it wa
Constance who said, "Come in, Mr
Lansdale. Where is Dick?"
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She was holding the portière aside fo
him, and he made sure of his ingres
before replying. Being of two mind
whether to deny all previous knowledgof such a person as Richard Bartrow, or t
commit himself recklessly to the hazard
of equivocal explanations, he steered
middle course.
"Am I my brother's keeper?" h
demanded, dropping into the easy-chai
which had come to be called his by righof frequent occupancy.
"Oh, I hope you haven't murdered him!
said Connie, with a show of trepidation"That's a terribly suggestive quotation."
"So it is. But are not my hands clean?
He held them up for inspection. "How ar
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you both this evening?"
Connie's eyes danced. "Mr. Lansdale
do you happen to know anything about thhabits of the ostrich?"
Lansdale acknowledged defea
extending his hands in mock desperation
"Put the thumbikins on if you must," h
said, "but don't screw them down to
hard. I couldn't tell anything but the truth i
should try."
"What have you done with Dick?"
"I have murdered him, as yo
suggested, and put his remains in a trunand shipped them East."
Miss Van Vetter looked horrified, bu
whether at his flippancy or at the hideou
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possibility, Lansdale could not determine
"But, really," Connie persisted, with
ook in her eyes which would havexorcised any demon of brazenness; "yo
dined with him, you know."
"So I did; but he had to go back to hi
mine on the night train. I saw him off, an
he made me promise to come here and—
and"—
"Square it?" Connie suggested.
"That is precisely the word,—hi
word. And you will both bear me witnes
hat I have done it, won't you?"
Miss Van Vetter was cutting the leaves
of a magazine, and she looked up to say
"That is one of the explanations whic
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doesn't explain, isn't it?"
Lansdale collapsed in the depths of th
chair. "'I'm a poor unfort'net as don't knownothink,'" he quoted. "Tell me what you'd
ike to have me say and I'll say it."
"Why did Mr. Bartrow have to go back
so unexpectedly?" asked Myra. "He tol
Uncle Stephen he would be in Denver tw
or three days."
Lansdale was not under bonds to kee
he truthful peace at the behest of any eye
save those of Constance Elliott; wherefor
he drew upon his imagination promptly
and, as it chanced, rather unfortunately.
"He had a telegram from his forema
about a—a strike, I think he called it."
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"A strike in the Little Myriad!" Thi
from both of the young women in chorus
Then Connie thankfully: "Oh, I'm so glad!
and Myra vindictively: "I hope he'll nevegive in to them!"
Lansdale collapsed again. "What hav
done!" he exclaimed.
Constance set her cousin right, or trie
o.
"It isn't a strike of the men; it's pay-or
—isn't it, Mr. Lansdale?"
"Now how should I know?" proteste
he amateur apologist. "A strike is a strikesn't it? But I don't believe it was the goo
kind. He wasn't at all enthusiastic abou
t."
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"That will do," said Connie. "Poo
Dick!" And Miss Van Vetter, who was not
of the stony-hearted, rose and went to th
piano that she might not advertise heemotion.
Lansdale picked himself up out of th
ruins of his attempt to do Bartrow a goourn, and hoped the worst was over. It wa
for the time; but later in the evening, whe
Myra had gone to the library for a boo
hey had been talking about, Connireturned to the unfinished inquisition.
"You know more than you have told u
about Dick's trouble," she said gravely"Is it very serious?"
"Yes, rather." Lansdale made a sudden
resolve to cleave to the facts in the case
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elling as few of them as he might.
"It wasn't a strike at all, was it?"
"No; that was a little figure of speecht is rather the lack of a strike—of the kin
you meant."
"Poor boy! I don't wonder that it madhim want to run away. He has worked so
hard and so long, and his faith in the Littl
Myriad has been unbounded. What will h
do?"
"I don't know that. In fact, I think he i
not quite at the brink of things yet. But h
s afraid it is coming to that."
"How did he talk? Is he very muc
discouraged? But of course he isn't
nothing discourages him."
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Lansdale was looking into th
compelling eyes and he forgot his rôle,—
forgot that he had been giving Constanc
o understand that the prospective failurof the mine was the only cloud i
Bartrow's sky.
"I'm sorry I can't confirm that." Hspoke hurriedly, hearing the rustle of Mis
Van Vetter's skirts in the hall. "He decide
rather suddenly,—to go back, you know
He intended coming here with me thievening. I don't think he had eve
considered all the possibilities an
consequences; and we were talking i
over. Then he decided not to come. He ihe soul of honor."
Constance nodded intelligence, an
made the proper diversion when he
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cousin came in with the book. But Mis
Van Vetter had overheard the fina
sentence, and she put it away for futur
reference.
Lansdale said good-night a little later
and they both went to the door with him
When he was gone Myra drew Connie inthe library and made her sit down wher
he light from the shaded chandelier fel
full upon her.
"Connie, dear," she began, fixing he
cousin with an inquisitorial eye, "who i
the soul of honor'?"
"It isn't nice to overhear things," sai
Connie pertly.
"I might retort that it isn't nice to hav
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confidences with a gentleman the momen
your cousin's back is turned, but I sha'n't
Will you tell me what I want to know?"
"We were talking about Dick."
Myra's hands were clasped over he
knee, and one daintily shod foot wa
apping a tattoo on the rug. "Was i
anything that I ought not to know?"
Connie's pertness vanished, and th
steadfast gray eyes brightened with quic
upwellings of sympathy. "No, dear; it wil
doubtless be in everybody's mouth befor
many days. You remember what I told you
once about Dick's prospects?—that da
we were on top of El Reposo?"
"Yes."
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"Well, I think the Little Myriad isn
going to keep its promise; Dick thinks so.
Myra sat quietly under it for a littlwhile, and then got up to go to th
window. When she spoke she did not tur
her head.
"He will be ruined, you said. Wha
will you do, Connie?"
"I? What can I do? Poppa would len
him more money, but he wouldn't take it
—not from us."
Silence while the bronze-figured cloc
on the mantel measured a full minuteThen:—
"There is one way you can make hi
ake it."
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"How?"
Myra gave a quick glance over he
shoulder, as if to make sure that her cousiwas still sitting under the chandelier.
"He believes—and so does your fathe
—that it is only a question of time an
more money. He couldn't refuse to take hi
wife's money."
Miss Van Vetter heard a little gasp
which, to her strained sense, seemed to b
more than half a sob, and the arc-ligh
swinging from its wire across the avenu
was blurred for her. Then Connie's voice
soft and low-pitched in the silence of th
book-lined room, came to her as from
great distance.
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"You are quite mistaken, Myra, dear
mistaken and—and very blind. Dick is m
good brother,—the only one I ever had
not my father's son, but yet my brotherThere has been no thought of anything els
between us. Besides"—
Myra heard light footfalls and thrustle of drapery, and stole another quic
glance over her shoulder. The big pivot
chair under the chandelier was empty. Th
door into the hall was ajar, and Connie'face, piquant with suppressed rapture
was framed in the aperture.
"Besides, you good, densempracticable cuzzy, dear,—are you
istening?—Dick is head over ears in lov
with—you."
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The door slammed softly on the fina
word, and there was a quick patter o
flying feet on the stairs. Myra kept he
place at the window; but when the arcight had parted with its blurring aureol
she drew the big pivot-chair to the des
and sat down to write.
What she had in mind seemed not t
say itself readily, and there was quite
pyramid of waste paper in the baske
before she had finished her two lettersShe left them on the hall table when sh
went up to her room, and Connie foun
hem in the morning on her way to th
breakfast-room to pour her father's coffee
"I wish I might read them," she said
with the mischievous light dancing in he
eyes. "It's deliciously suspicious; a lette
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o Dick, and one to her man of business
all in a breath, and right on the heels of m
ittle bomb-shell. If she ever tries t
discipline me again,—well, she'd bettenot, that's all."
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CHAPTER XXV
Two days after his return to the mine o
Topeka Mountain, Bartrow received a
etter. It came up from Alta Vista by the
hands of one of the workmen who ha
been down to the camp blacksmith sho
with the day's gathering of dulled tools
and was considerably the worse fohandling when it reached its destination
Connie's monogram was on the flap of th
envelope, but the address was not i
Connie's handwriting. So much Bartrowremarked while he was questioning th
ool-carrier.
"Took you a good while, didn't it? Was
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Pat sober to-day?"
"Naw; swimmin' full, same as usual."
"Spoil anything?"
"Burnt up a drill 'r two, spite of all
could do. Laid off to lick me when he go
hrough, but I lit out 'fore he got round tt."
"Did, eh? It's a pity; he's a goo
blacksmith if he'd only let whiskey aloneTry him in the morning next time, and
maybe you'll catch him sober."
"Don't make any dif'rence 'bout thime o' day with him. He's full all the time
he is."
Bartrow's curiosity was beginning t
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bestir itself, but he put it under foot till h
had climbed to the three-roomed cabin o
he bench above the tunnel-opening. Wu
Ling was laying the table for supper, andhe master of the mine sat down on th
porch to read his letter. It was from Mis
Van Vetter; and the glow on Bartrow's
sunburned face as he read it was noaltogether the ruddy reflection from th
piled-up masses of sunset crimson in th
western sky.
"Dear Mr. Bartrow," she wrote: "Mr
Lansdale has just been here, and we mad
him tell us about your trouble, though h
ried very hard not to. From which wnfer that you didn't want us to know,—
and that was wrong. If one cannot go t
one's friends at such times, it is surely
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very thankless world.
"Constance told me some time ago tha
you might not be able to go on with thLittle Myriad without the investment o
more capital, and I have written about it t
a friend of mine in the East who ha
money to invest. You may call it a mosunwarrantable impertinence if you please
but I'm not going to apologize for it,—no
here. If you would really like to humbl
me, I'll give you plenary indulgence wheyou come to see us.
"I inclose my friend's Philadelphi
address, and I may say with confidenchat I am quite sure he will help you if yo
will write him.
"We have abundant faith in you and in
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he Little Myriad. Don't think of giving up
and please don't evade us when you ar
next in Denver."
Bartrow absorbed it by littles, and sa
fingering the slip of paper with th
Philadelphia address on it, quite unheedfu
of Wun Ling's thrice-repeatedannouncement that supper was ready. I
was his first letter from her, and the fac
was easily subversive of presence o
mind. Not until the lilt of it had a littloutworn itself could he bring himsel
down to any fair-minded consideration o
he offer of help. But when it finally cam
o that, he put the letter in his pocket anwent in to supper, smiling ineffably and
shaking his head as one who has set hi
face flintwise against temptation.
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An hour later, however, when he wa
smoking his pipe on the porch step, th
emptation beset him afresh. His faith i
he ultimate success of the mine had nevewavered. It was unshaken even now, whe
he was at the end of his resources, and
hing had happened which threatened t
demand a costly change in the method oexploiting the lode. But to be confident fo
himself and for those who, knowing th
hazard, had helped him hitherto, was on
hing; and to take a stranger's money wa
quite another. And when the strange
chanced to be the friend of the woman h
oved, a person who would invest in thLittle Myriad solely on the ground of Mis
Van Vetter's recommendation, the
difference magnified itself until it took th
shape of a prohibition.
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The light had faded out of the wester
sky, and the peaks of the main range stood
out in shadowy relief against the star
dusted background. The homely noises iWun Ling's sanctum had ceased, an
silence begirt the great mountain. Bartrow
ossed the extinct pipe through an ope
window, and began to pace the length ohe slab-floored porch. It was not in hi
o give up without another struggle; a fina
struggle, he called it, though none knew
better that there is no final struggle for
strong man save that which crown
perseverance with the chaplet of fruition
The temptation to grasp the hand held ouo him was very subtle. If Miss Van Vetter
could have been eliminated—if only th
proposal had come direct from th
Philadelphia capitalist, instead of throug
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her.
The sound of footsteps on the gravel a
he tunnel's mouth broke into his reverieand the figure of a man loomed dimly i
he darkness at the foot of the path leadin
up to the cabin. It was McMurtrie, th
mining engineer in charge of the BiBonanza at Alta Vista. Bartrow called
down to him.
"Is that you, Mac? Don't come up; I'lbe with you in a second."
The engineer sat down on a tool-bo
and waited.
"I'm a little late," he said, whe
Bartrow came down the path. "It's pay-da
at the Bonanza. Get a lamp and let's go i
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and have a look at your new grief."
"You didn't need to tramp up here in
he dark," Bartrow rejoined, feeling in niche in the timbering for a miner's lamp
"I'd given you up for to-night."
"Oh, I said I'd come, and I'm here.
know how it feels to be on the ragge
edge,—been there myself. Is that the bes
amp you could find? It isn't much bette
han a white bean. Pick it up a little higheso I can see the wet spots. It's too chilly t
go in swimming to-night."
They were picking their way throug
he damp tunnel, Bartrow ahead with th
amp held high. The "new grief" was a
apparent change in the direction of th
ore-bearing crevice from its sligh
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nclination upward to a sharp pitc
downward; and Bartrow had aske
McMurtrie to come up and look at it.
In the heading the engineer took th
amp and made a careful examination o
he rock face of the cutting, tracing th
outline of the vein with the flame of thamp, and picking off bits of the shattere
rock to determine the lines of cleavage
Bartrow stood aside and waited for th
verdict; waited with a tense thrill onervousness which was quite new to him
and the monotonous drip-drip of the wate
percolating through the tunnel roo
magnified itself into a din like the ringinof hammers upon an anvil.
"Well, what do you say?" he queried
when the engineer made an end and bega
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o fill his pipe.
"You're in for it, Dick,—here, hold thi
amp a minute, will you? It's a pretty welldefined dip in the formation, and I'
afraid it has come to stay. That means a
ncline."
The echo took up Bartrow's ironica
augh and gave it back in mockin
reiteration.
"Yes; an incline at the end of a four
hundred-and-forty-foot tunnel, and a stea
hoist, and a pumping outfit, and a few
other little knickknacks. Say a couple o
housand dollars or so before I can turn
wheel."
McMurtrie bent to light his pipe at th
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flame of the lamp. "That's about the size o
t. Hold that lamp still, can't you?"
"Hold it yourself," retorted Bartrowand he took a turn in the darkness to stead
his nerves. When he stumbled back int
he dim nimbus of lamplight he had fough
and won his small battle.
"Don't lay it up against me, Mac," h
said, in blunt contrition. "It knocked m
out for a minute. You know I've beenbacking my luck here for all I'm worth."
"Yes, I know that. What will you do
now?"
"Quit; come off the perch; shut up sho
and pull down the blinds. It's all there i
o do."
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"And give it up?"
"And give it up. Bank's broke; or a
east it will be when I've paid the meanother time or two."
McMurtrie had Scotch blood in hi
veins, and was cannily chary of offerin
unasked advice. None the less, he did it.
"I'd borrow a little more nerve and g
on, if it were mine."
"So would I if I could."
"Can't you?"
Bartrow said "no," changed it to "yes,
and then qualified the assent until it, too
became a negation.
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"It's a pity," was the engineer'
comment. "I believe another hundred fee
would let you in for a decently goo
hing."
"So do I. But it might as well be
housand. I know when I'm downed."
McMurtrie scoffed openly at that
aking his pipe from his mouth to say
"That's the one thing you don't know
You'll chew on it a while and go toDenver; and in a day or so your men wil
get orders to go on. I've seen you downe
before. Why don't you go back East an
marry a rich girl? That's the way tdevelop a mine."
It was a random shot, but it went s
near the mark that Bartrow winced, an
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was thankful that the flaring miner's lam
was not an arc-light. And his rejoinde
gnored the matrimonial suggestion.
"You're off wrong this time, Mac.
wish you didn't have to be. But it's no use
'm in debt till I can't see out over the top
of it, and I couldn't raise another thousanon the Myriad if I should try,—that is, no
n Colorado. If I go to Denver it'll be t
urn over my collateral and let everybod
down as easy as I can."
"Then don't go yet a while."
Bartrow took the lamp and led the wa
out of the tunnel.
"I did mean to stand it off to the las
minute," he said, when they were onc
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more under the stars, "but I don't know a
t's worth while now. Will you come up t
he shack and smoke a few lines? No
Then wait till I get my coat and I'll waldown to camp with you. I want to do
ittle wiring before I turn in."
They parted at the railway statioabove the camp at the foot of Bonanz
Mountain, and Bartrow went in to send hi
message. In the hour of defeat he yearned
manlike, for sympathy; and it was tConnie that his cry went out
otwithstanding the earnestness of it, th
appeal was consistently characteristic i
ts wording.
"I'm hunting sympathy. Can you giv
me a lonesome hour or two if I com
down? Answer while I wait."
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He asked the night operator to rush it
and sat down with his feet on the window
sill to smoke out the interval. A half-hou
ater, when the operator was jogginDenver for a reply to his "rush," the din o
an affray floated up to the open window
from the camp in the gulch. The operato
came to the window and looked dowupon the twinkling lights of the town.
"That's the blacksmith again," he said
"He's been on a steady bat for two weeksand the camp isn't big enough to hol
him."
"He'll kill himself, if he don't mind,Bartrow prophesied. "He's raw yet, an
hasn't found out that a man can't stand th
drink up here that he could in the valley."
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"No. Doc said he had a touch of th
immies last night. He yelled for hi
daughter till they heard him up at the shaft
house of the Bonanza. McMurtrie said"—But what the engineer's commentary ha
been was lost to Bartrow, since th
clicking sounder was snipping out th
reply to the "rush" message.
The operator wrote it out and handed i
o Bartrow. The answer was a
characteristic as the appeal.
"Two of the three of us go to
Boulder to-morrow to return by the
late train. The other one is mostsympathetic. Come.
"Connie."
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CHAPTER XXVI
On the long day-ride from Alta Vista to
Denver, Bartrow dwelt upon Myra's lette
until the hopefulness of it took possessio
of him, urging him to reconsider hi
determination to give up the fight on th
Little Myriad. That which seems to hav
fortified itself beyond peradventure odoubt in the night season is prone to ope
he door to dubiety in the morning; and th
hope which McMurtrie's verdict ha
quenched came to life again, setting thmill of retrieval agrind, though, apart fro
he suggestion in Myra's letter, there wa
ittle enough for grist.
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From admitting the hope to considerin
ways and means was but a step in th
march of returning confidence; and, settin
aside Myra's proposal as an alternativwhich would bring victory at the expens
of the cause in which the battle wa
fought, he was moved to break hi
promise to himself and to ask help oStephen Elliott. This decision was no
reached without a day-long struggle, i
which pride and generosity fough
shoulder to shoulder against the apparen
necessity. The pioneer had more than onc
offered to back the promise of the Littl
Myriad; but Bartrow, knowing Elliott'weakness in the matter of money keeping
had steadily refused to open another doo
of risk to the old man who had fathere
him from boyhood, and whose majo
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nfirmity was an open-handed willingnes
o lend to any borrower.
But the necessity was most urgentBartrow rehearsed the condoning fact
and set them over against his promise t
himself. If he should give up the fight th
Little Myriad would be lost, he would beft hopelessly in debt, and the beatifi
vision, with Miss Van Vetter for its
central figure, vanished at once into th
imbo of things unrealizable. Moreoverhe investment would be less hazardou
for the pioneer than at any previous tim
n the history of the mine. Notwithstandin
he discouragements, it was a hearteninfact that the ore-bearing vein was steadil
widening; and the last mill-run assay
made a week before, had shown
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cheering increase in value.
Bartrow weighed the pros and cons fo
he twentieth time while the train waspeeding over the ultimate mile of the lon
run, and finally yielded to the importunat
urgings of the necessity. The first step wa
o take Connie into his confidence; anwhen the train reached Denver he hurrie
o the hotel, full of the new hope and eage
o begin the campaign of retrieval. Whil
he was inscribing his name in the registehe clerk asked a question.
"Just come down from the range, Mr
Bartrow?"
"Yes. Can you give me my old room?"
"Certainly." The clerk wrote th
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number opposite the name. "What do the
say up in the carbonate camp about th
Lodestar business?"
"The Lodestar? I don't know. I haven
been in Leadville. I came down from th
Bonanza district on the other line
Anything broke loose?"
"Haven't you heard? The big produce
s played out."
"What!"
"Fact; struck a 'lime horse' two week
ago, and they've been keeping it dark an
unloading the stock right and left. You arenot in it, I hope?"
Bartrow was not, but he knew tha
Elliott was; knew, too, that in an
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unloading sauve qui peut the old pionee
would most likely be one of those foun
dead in the deserted trenches. Wherefor
he slurred his supper and hastened out the house in Colfax Avenue, not to ask
help, as he had prefigured, but to ascertai
f there were not some way in which
broken man might tender it.
There was a light in the library an
none in the parlor; and Bartrow, bein
rather more a brevet member of StepheElliott's family than a visitor, nodded to
he servant who admitted him, hung up hi
coat and hat, and walked unannounced int
he lighted room. When he discovered thahe library held but one occupant, that th
shapely head bending over a book in th
cone of light beneath the reading-lamp
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was not Connie's, he realized th
magnitude of Connie's duplicity, and
equanimity forsook him.
Miss Van Vetter shut her finger in her
book and smiled as if his sudde
appearance were quite a matter of course
"I hoped you would come," she said
"Have you been to dinner?"
The prosaic question might hav
enabled a less ingenuous man to cover hi
discomposure with some poor verba
mantle of commonplace or what not; bu
Bartrow could only murmur "Good Lord!
sinking therewith into the hollow of th
nearest chair because his emotion was to
great to be borne standing.
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Since she was not a party to Connie'
small plot, Myra was left to infer that he
visitor was ill, and she rose i
sympathetic concern.
"Why, Mr. Bartrow! is anything the
matter? Shall I get you something? a glas
of wine, or"—
Bartrow shook his head and besough
her with both hands to sit down again
"No, nothing, thank you; it's miles past thasort of mending. Do you—do you happe
o know where your cousin is?"
"Why, yes; she has gone to Boulde
with Uncle Stephen."
"I—I thought you were going," Bartrow
stammered.
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It did not occur to Miss Van Vetter to
wonder why he should have though
anything about it.
"I thought so myself, up to the las
moment," she rejoined.
Bartrow leaned forward with his hand
on his knees.
"Miss Myra, would you—do you min
elling me why you didn't go?" He said i
with reproachful gravity.
Miss Van Vetter's poise was an
nheritance which had lost nothing i
ransmission, but the unconscioureproach in his appeal overset it. Unde
ess trying conditions her laugh woul
have emancipated him; but being still i
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he bonds of unreadiness, he could onl
glower at her in a way which lacke
nothing of hostility save intention, and say
"I should think you might tell me whayou're laughing at!"
"Oh, nothing—nothing at all. Only on
would think you were sorry I didn't goAre you?"
"You know well enough I'm not." Thi
ime the reproach was not unconscious"But you haven't answered my question.
have a horrible suspicion, and I want t
know."
"It was Connie's mistake. I was to mee
hem at the station at half past four—I a
sure she said half past four—and when
went down I found the train had been gon
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an hour. Did you ever hear of such
hing?"
Miss Van Vetter did not know that thesmall arch-plotter had exhausted he
ngenuity trying to devise some les
primitive means of accomplishing he
purpose; but Bartrow gave Connie fulcredit for act and intention.
"She'd do worse things than that; sh
wouldn't stick at anything to carry hepoint," he said unguardedly.
Myra laughed again. "I hope you don
ask me to believe that she did i
purposely," she said.
"Oh, no; of course not. I don't ask yo
o believe anything—except that I'
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foolishly glad you missed the train,
rejoined the downright one, beginning t
find himself.
"Are you, really? I was almost ready t
doubt it."
Bartrow was not yet fit to measur
swords of repartee with any one, least o
all with Miss Van Vetter, and the
quicksand of speechlessness engulfed him
His helplessness was so palpable that ipresently became infectious, and Myr
was dismayed to find herself growin
sympathetically self-conscious. Her lette
ay between their last meeting and thisand she began to wonder if that were th
barrier. When the silence becam
portentous, Bartrow gathered himself fo
another dash toward enlargement. It wa
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hat or asphyxia. The very air of the roo
was heavy with the narcosis o
embarrassment.
"Your letter came yesterday," he began
abruptly.
"Did it? And you have come to tell m
o—to tell me to mind my own business
as I said you might?"
"No, indeed, I haven't. But I can't do i
all the same—drag your friend in on th
Myriad."
"Was Mr. Lansdale mistaken? Don'
you need more capital to go on with?"
"Need it?—well, yes; rather. But
can't take your Mr. Grimsby's money."
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"Why not?"
"Because"—the low-pitched hollow o
he big lounging-chair seemed to put hiat a disadvantage, and he struggled up ou
of it to tramp back and forth before he
—"well, in the first place, because he i
your friend; and if he wasn't, I have nsecurity to offer him—collateral,
suppose he'd call it."
"He is not exactly my friend, withiyour meaning of the word; and he will no
ask you to secure him."
He stopped and looked down upon her
She was shading her eyes from the shee
of the reading-lamp and turning the leave
of the book.
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"What does he know about the Littl
Myriad? anything more than you have tol
him?"
"No."
"And yet you say he is willing to put up
money on it?"
"He is ready to help you—yes."
Bartrow's brows went together in
frown of perplexity. "As long as I'm nogoing to let him, I suppose I haven't an
right to ask questions, but"—
She put the book on the table anooked up at him with something o
Connie's steadfastness in her eyes.
"Perhaps I was foolish to try to mak
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even such a small mystery of it; but
hought—I was so anxious to—to put it i
such a way as to"—
The words would not discove
hemselves; and Bartrow, to whom th
mystery was now no mystery, helped he
over the obstruction.
"As to make it easy for me. I think
catch on, after so long a time. Mr
Grimsby is your business manager, isnhe?"
"My solicitor; yes."
"That's what I meant. And it was goino be your own money?"
"Yes."
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He met her gaze with a smile o
mingled triumph and admiration.
"It was a close call, and you'll neveknow how near I came to falling down,
he said. "It was a fearful temptation."
The pencilled brows went up with
ittle arch of interrogation between them.
"A temptation? Why do you call i
hat?"
Bartrow was slowly coming to his ow
n the matter of unconstraint. "If you ha
ever dabbled in mineral, you'd know
When a fellow gets in about so deep, he'foreclose the mortgage on hi
grandfather's farm to get money to go o
with. I didn't read between the lines i
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your letter. I thought the Philadelphia ma
was some friend of yours who wa
nterested in a general way, and th
emptation to fall on his neck and weewas almost too much for me."
"You still call it a temptation."
"It was just that, and nothing less. I ha
he toughest kind of a fight with mysel
before I could say no, and mean it."
"But why should you say no? You
believe in the Little Myriad, don't you?"
"Sure. But that's for myself—and for
few people who knew the size of the riswhen they staked me. So far as I've gon
with it, it's only a big game of chance; an
wouldn't let you put your money into i
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unless I knew it was the surest kind of
sure thing."
"Not if I believe in it, too? Not if I awilling to take the chances that you and th
others have taken?" Myra conceived tha
her mistake lay in putting it upon th
ground of a purely business transactionand changed front with truly feminin
adroitness. "Won't you let me have just a
iny share of it? Enough so that when I g
back to Philadelphia I can say that I anterested in a mine? I should think yo
might. I'll promise to be the most tractabl
and obedient stockholder you have."
She made the plea like a spoiled chil
begging for a toy, but there was no
mistaking the earnestness of it. Bartrow
felt his fine determination oozing, and wa
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moved to tramp again, making a circuit o
he entire room this time, and saying t
himself with many emphatic repetition
hat it could not be possible,—that hemotive was only charitable,—that he wa
nothing more to her than Connie's friend
When he spoke again his circlings ha
brought him to the back of her chair.
"You're making it fearfully hard for me
and the worst of it is that you don't seem t
know it. You think I am a mining crankike all the rest of them, and so I am; bu
here was method in my madness. I neve
cared overmuch for money until I came t
know what it is to love a woman who haoo much of it."
There was manifestly no reply to b
made to such a pointless speech as this
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and when he resumed hi
circumambulatory march she began to tur
he leaves of the book again. When i
became evident that he was not going telucidate, she said, "Meaning Connie?"
"No, not meaning Connie." He ha
drifted around to the back of her chaiagain. "I wish you'd put that book awa
for a few minutes. It owls me."
"I will, if you will stop circling abouand talking down on me from the ceiling
t's dreadfully distressing."
He laughed and drew up a chair facin
her; drew it up until the arm of it touche
hers.
"It's a stand-off," he said, with cheerfu
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effrontery; "only I didn't mean my part o
t. Let's see, where were we? You said
Meaning Connie,' and I said, 'No, no
meaning Connie.' I meant some one elseUntil I met her, the Little Myriad wa
merely a hole in the ground, not so ver
different from other holes in the groun
except that it was mine—and it wasn't thLittle Myriad then, either. After that, it go
ts name changed, and its mission, too
From that day its business was to make i
possible for me to go to her and say, '
ove you; you, yourself, and not you
money. I've money enough of my own.'"
She heard him through with the face oa graven image. "And now?"
"And now I can't do it; I can never d
t, I'm afraid. The Little Myriad has gon
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back on me, and I'm nearer flat broke to
day than I've ever been."
"But this unfortunate young person whhas too much money—she is young, isn
she?—has she nothing to say about it?"
Bartrow answered his own though
rather than her question. "She couldn't b
happy with everybody saying she'd stake
her husband."
"Has she told you that?"
"No; but it's so,—you know it's so."
Bartrow was no juggler in figures ospeech, and his fictitious third perso
hreatened to become unmanageable.
Her smile was good to look upon. "
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don't know anything of the kind. I think sh
would be very foolish to let such a
absurd thing make her unhappy—
supposing any one should be unkinenough to say it."
"They would say it, and I'd hear of i
and then there'd be trouble."
"But you say you love her; isn't you
ove strong enough to rise above suc
hings? You think the sacrifice would behers, but it wouldn't; it would be yours."
"I don't see how you make that out."
Myra's heart sank within her. It hurt hemmeasurably to be driven to plead he
own cause, but the money-fact wa
nexorable; and the look in Bartrow's eye
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was her warrant when she dared to rea
t.
"Oh, can't you see?" The wordwrought themselves into a plea, though sh
strove to say them dispassionately. "If i
ouch your self-respect ever so little, th
sacrifice is all yours."
That point of view was quite new t
Bartrow. He took time to think it out, bu
when the truth clinched itself he wenstraight to the mark.
"I never saw that side of it before—
don't quite see it now. But if you do, that'
different. It's you, little woman; and I d
ove you—you, yourself, and not you
money. I wish I could go on and say th
rest of it, but I can't. Will you take me fo
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better or for worse—with an even chanc
hat it's going to be all worse and n
better?"
Her eyes filled with quick tears, an
her voice was tremulous. "It would serv
you right if I should say no; you've fairl
made me beg you to ask me!"
Her hand was on the arm of the chair
and he possessed himself of it and raise
t to his lips with gentle reverence.
"You'll have to begin making
allowances for me right at the start," h
said humbly. "When I make any bad
breaks you must remember it's because
don't know any better, and that away dow
deep under it all I love you well enough t
—to go to jail for you. Will you wait fo
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me while I skirmish around and try to ge
on my feet again?"
"No"—with sweet petulance."There it is, you see; another bad brea
right on top of the first. Suppose you talk
while and let me listen. I'm good a
istening."
"I'll wait, if you want me to,—and i
you will let me help you to go on with th
Little Myriad."
Bartrow's laugh had a ring of boyis
oy in it.
"Back to the old cross-roads, aren
we? I'll let you in on it now; but if yo
ake the mine you'll have to take the ma
along with the other incumbrances,—
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simultaneously, so to speak."
"I thought you were anxious to wait."
"If you were as poor as I am, I'd asyou to make it high noon to-morrow."
"Oh! the money again. Can't we put i
aside, once for all? There isn't so much ot as you may imagine."
Bartrow overleaped the barrier at
bound.
"Then let's make it noon to-morrow. I
we are going to push the Myriad I ought t
go back to-morrow night."
She tried to scoff at him, but there wa
ove in her eyes.
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"Connie said once that you wer
Young-man-afraid-of-his-horses, but she
doesn't know you. I believe you more tha
half mean it."
"I do mean it. If I sit here and look a
you much longer I shall be begging you t
make it nine o'clock instead of twelveDon't ask me to wait very long. It'll b
hard enough to go off and leave yo
afterward. It's a good bit more than
hundred miles in a straight line froDenver to Topeka Mountain."
"I'm going with you," she said calmly.
"You?—to live in a wicky-up on the
side of a bald mountain? But you know
what it is; you've been there. You'd die o
he blues in a week."
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"Would I?" She rose and stood beside
his chair. "You don't know much abou
me, yet, do you? If the 'wicky-up' is goo
enough for you, it is good enough for me. am going with you, and I'm going to mak
hat dear little log cabin a place that yo
will always be glad to remember,—if
can."
He drew her down on the arm of th
chair.
"Don't talk to me that way, Myra,—yo
mustn't, you know. I'm not used to it, and i
breaks me all up. If you say another wor
shall want to make it seven o'clock in thmorning instead of nine."
"Can you wait a month?"
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"No."
"Three weeks?"
"No."
She gave up in despair. "You are
dreadfully unreasonable."
"I know it; I was born that way and
can't help it. I sha'n't insist on to-morrow
because I'm not sure that Wun Ling ha
anything for us to eat; but one week froo-morrow, when I've had time to stock up
and straighten up a bit, is going to be th
imit. Can you make it?"
"What if I say no?"
"I shall come anyway."
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She bent over until her lips touched hi
forehead.
"That is your answer, only you dondeserve it. And now will you answer my
question? I asked you when you came in i
you had been to dinner, and you said
Good Lord!'"
"Did I? I think I must have been a bi
rattled. You see, I'd just heard some bad
news, and I was expecting to find Connieand wasn't expecting to find you."
"Did Connie write you she would mee
you?"
He had one hand free to fish out th
day-old telegram and give it to her. Sh
read it with a swift blush crimsonin
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cheek and neck.
"The unscrupulous little tyke!" sh
said; and then, with self-defensive tact"But you said you had bad news."
"Yes. A mine that our good old Uncle
Steve is pretty deeply into has gone dry."
"Failed, you mean?"
"Yes, that's it. I wish you'd teach me
how to talk English,—good clean Englishike yours. Connie has tried it, but pshaw
she's worse than I am. But about th
Lodestar: I don't know how deep the ol
man is in; he's such an innocent old infanabout putting up money that I'm awfull
afraid they have salted him. You mus
pump Connie and find out. I'll be i
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Leadville to-morrow night, and if there i
anything to be done on the ground I'll do it
The old man has been a second father t
me."
Myra promised, and went back onc
more to the unanswered dinner query.
"Now you remind me of it, I believe
haven't been to dinner," he admitted. "Bu
hat's nothing; a meal or two more or les
sn't to be mentioned at such a time ahis."
"I am going to get you something."
"No, don't; I'm too happy to eat."
But she insisted, and when she cam
back with a dainty luncheon on a tea-tra
he did ample justice to it, if for no bette
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reason than that she sat on the other side o
he small reading-table and made tea fo
him.
Afterward, when the time drew nea
for the Elliotts' return, he took his leave
hough it was yet early.
"They are the best friends I have o
earth," he said, when Myra went to th
door with him, "but somehow, I feel as if
didn't want to meet anybody I know,—noo-night. I want to have it all to myself fo
a few hours."
She laughed at that; a laugh with a
upbubbling of content and pure happines
n it; and sent him off with his heart afire
When he was halfway down the walk sh
recalled him. He came back obediently.
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"It will cost you something every tim
you do that," he protested, exacting th
penalty. "Was that what you wanted?"
"Of course not! I merely wanted to as
you what it is to 'owl' a person. You said
owled' you."
"Did I? Well, you don't; you never can
That is the best definition I can think of
something you can never do to me. May
say good-night again? the way I did minute ago?"
The glare of the arc-light swingin
between its poles across the avenue wa
quite ruthless, and there were passers-b
n straggling procession on the sidewalk
But at the critical instant the kindl
ncandescence burned blue, clicked
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fizzed, and died down to a red spot in th
darkness. For which cause Bartrow
presently went his way, with the heart-fir
upblazing afresh; and when Myra woback to the library and the cosy depths o
he great chair, the color scheme of fai
neck and cheek and brow was no
altogether the reflection from the crimsoshade of the reading-lamp.
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CHAPTER XXVII
CONSTANCE TO MYRA
My dear Lady Bountiful: Your letter—
he ridiculous one—came yesterday. Thdea of your proposing in the very mornin
of your honey-month to take the Colfa
Avenue house and turn it into a home fo
ndigent relatives! As Tommie would pu
t, "Wot are you givin' us!"
But seriously, cuzzy dear, it's quite ou
of the question. Papa wouldn't hear to itand besides, we are getting along ver
cosily now, re-learning a good man
essons that prosperity makes one forge
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One of them is that gratitude isn't quit
ike the dodo,—gone into fossilisti
extinction, you know.
Margaret Gannon is one of th
nstances. She has taken a room in ou
block, and there is no limit to her grea
rish tender-heartedness. If I'd let her, shwould make me sit down and hold m
hands while she does the housework o
our three rooms. In spite of all I can say o
do, she does do a great deal of it; and can hear her sewing-machine buzzing dee
nto the night to pay for it.
Tommie is another. The day we moveddown here from the old home in Colfa
Avenue that "irreclaimable little savage,
as you once called him, brought me hi
surplus of a dollar and something an
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asked me to "blow it in" for him. Think o
t and weep, you luxury-spoiled darling!
could have hugged him, dirt and all. And
since that day he has been my Ariel, imore ways than you would think possible
He is so sharp and keen-witted; and hi
philanthropy has developed into
passion.
Mr. Lansdale has been most kind. Tha
s the proper phrase, I believe, but now
hat I have written it down it seems tritand meaningless. If I say that he has fairl
earned the right to sign himself "Rober
Lansdale, Gentleman," you wil
understand. The change in oucircumstances has been a test that he alon
of all our friends has been able to endur
unmoved. I don't say that others are no
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kind and sympathetic, but they are—wel
hey are different. Now that I can say i
without hurting you, I'll admit that I'v
always had a good bit of contempt foculture of the imported variety (I think
have been spelling it "culchah"), but Mr
Lansdale has converted me. It is wort
something to be able to rise superior tcircumstances,—the circumstances o
others, I mean,—and, between us two, it'
a virtue to which we new people haven
quite attained.
I presume you read the Denver papers
and if you do you know all I could tell yo
about the person whom you once said wabetter worth saving than other people. Mr
Lansdale, who was one of the origina
rio, you remember, talks very sparingly o
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Mr. Jeffard; from which I infer that ther
sn't much to be said,—in mixed company
The newly arrived one lives in a
apartment building, and papa says they arbeginning to call him a miser on the stree
They'd say that of any capitalist wh
wouldn't invest in at least one "ground
floor" a day; but I think you will agrewith me that they can't say anything wors
han the truth about him. I haven't had th
ll-chance to meet him yet (I hope I'll b
spared that), but I am afraid Tommie ha
been spying upon him,—for reasons of hi
own which he won't explain. I happene
o overhear the final volley of a smalbattle royal between my Ariel and
Margaret the other day, which had in it
hint of an unnamable thing,—a thing whic
nvolves Margaret and the unworthy one
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You may remember that he once posed a
her deus ex machina. And she has grow
dangerously beautiful in her year o
uprightness.
When you write, tell me all about you
plans for the summer; and believe m
always
Your cousin-content,
Connie.
MYRA TO CONSTANCE
Dear Connie: Really, the S. P. C. C
ought to take you in hand! To think of the
cold-blooded way in which yo
hoodwinked us up to the very last moment
making us believe that the Lodesta
nvolvement was next to nothing, an
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keeping the home intact solely for th
purpose of providing a proper stage
setting for the final act of our littl
comedy-drama! It's fairly heart-breakinghe more since you won't let us share wit
you, as we'd be glad to. Before you saw
fit to confide in us, Dick had used ever
argument short of a pick-handle tconvince me that I should presently g
back to Denver and creature comforts
eaving him here to go on delving in th
Myriad. I only laughed at him, but I'l
recant if you will listen to reason, and le
me make a home for you and Uncl
Stephen. But as between living a threequarter widow in Denver on mere visitin
erms with you and your father, and
hibernating here with Dick, you may b
sure I shall choose the latter.
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We are both as enthusiastic as can be
over the prospects of the mine. The new
machinery is on the way, and we are dow
wenty feet on the incline. Another montwill surely carry it into pay-rock. (You
see I am learning to talk "mineral-English
with the best of them.) Under th
circumstances, I don't blame Dick fowanting to stay right here every day; and i
won't be so lonesome for me as you ma
magine. You see I have Dick, and he can
be a whole cityful upon occasion.
You wouldn't know "The Eyrie" (Dick
says the altitude is so great that we had t
have a high-sounding name) since we havbegun to remodel it. We are to have
another room, a larger kitchen for Wu
Ling (oh, he is a celestial treasure!—quit
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he archangel of the culinary host), a hug
chimney, with immense fireplaces, agains
a possible winter here, and a wider porch
—board-floored, if you please. Andnside I have rugged and portièred, an
pictured and bric-a-bracked, until th
pristine barkiness of the place is all bu
effaced.
So far, with the exception of a
occasional call from Mr. McMurtrie, w
have been "each other's own bescompany;" but if I stay up all summer i
will be conditional upon your and Uncl
Stephen's spending at least a month wit
us when the hot weather makes your blocuncomfortable. Don't say no beforehand
unless you want to make me quit
disgusted.
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Mr. Lansdale is a lineal descendant i
he direct line of the Chevalier,—the san
eur et sans reproche one; you know I'v
always said that of him. It chokes mwhen I think of what is lying in wait fo
him. Isn't there the least little glimmer o
hope? He looked so bright and eager o
our wedding day that I could almost makmyself believe he was going to get wel
You must be very, very careful, Connie
dear; not to encourage him too much,
mean; not unless you—but I sha'n't say i
without your warrant.
What you say about Margaret Gannon'
rish true-heartedness reminds me of ouown wild Irishman. He is the min
blacksmith, a perfect Sheridan for wit an
repartee when he is sober, and a mania
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of maniacs when he is drunk,—whic
happens whenever Dick relaxes hi
vigilance for a single hour.
The other day Pat (if he has any othe
name I've never heard it) did a thin
heroic. They are using dynamite in th
unnel, and after the noon blasts one of thminers went in before the deadly gas ha
been properly "ventilated" out. One of th
others saw him stumble and go headlon
down the incline, and the cry went back the entrance. Pat heard it (he was sobe
hat day), flung his tools to the four winds
dashed into the pit of death, and came ou
black in the face, but with the man on hishoulder, just as Dick got down to th
entrance. Wasn't that fine?
As you surmise, we have read all tha
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he newspapers are saying about Mr
Jeffard. Isn't it queer that he shoul
develop into a millionaire miser! Dick ha
old me a great deal about him,—at leasabout the Mr. Jeffard he used to know,—
and whatever sins he may have had t
answer for in those days, avarice was no
one of them. I suppose it is another case omoney-spoiling, but I can't help wanting t
doubt your latest suspicion of him. I rea
your letter to Dick, and he shook his hea
when I came to that part; said he couldn
believe it, even on your testimony,—tha
he man might be capable of all sorts o
villainy, but not that. So I am going over tDick's point of view far enough to ask yo
not to be too hard upon the "unworthy one
ust because he is no longer one of you
poverty-stricken sinners,—he was tha
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once, wasn't he? The rich sinners nee
charity quite as really as the poor; of
different kind, to be sure, and not alway
as easy to exercise as the other, but nonhe less necessary.
This is all you are going to get to-night
Dick has just come up from the mine, anhe says I sha'n't write any more whatever.
Your loving cousin,
Myra.
LANSDALE TO BARTROW
My Dear Richard:—What with a min
for a taskmaster and a wife for you
eisure I can fancy you tossing this lette
aside unopened. But the promise whic
you exacted is herein kept, and it mus
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plead my excuse for breaking into you
honeymoon with a few pages of barre
gossip.
First, as to Miss Elliott and her goo
father. Your foreboding went nearer the
mark than the ostensible fact. They wer
merely postponing the evil day until afteyour wedding, and when the crash came i
urned out to be no less than a catastrophe
Stephen Elliott met it like a man, giving u
everything to his creditors, and comindown to a life of the barest necessitie
with the serenity of a philosopher, happy
apparently, that the well of assets wa
deep enough to brim the tank of liabilityhough at the expense of the final drop.
I am told that he was left quite withou
resources other than a small sum of mone
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which one of the creditors absolutel
refused to accept; and he assures me tha
he will once more shoulder pick an
shovel and go afield again as soon as thseason is a little farther advanced.
confess frankly that the heroism of i
bedazes me. If there be any finer exampl
of dauntlessness in the heart of man, thnovellers have not yet portrayed it for us
He was sixty-three last January, and h
promises to begin the search for anothe
competence with all the enthusiasm an
ardor of youth!
Constance you know, and I need no
assure you that the sudden down-droppinouches her not at all; or if at all, only o
he side of her beneficences to others. S
far as one may perceive, the change fo
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her is only of encompassments. She is a
much above it as she was superior to th
cheapening effect of an elastic ban
account. To me she seems the sweeter fohe chastening, though really, I presume
she is neither better nor worse for it,—no
any different. You may be sure that my
first call upon them after the submergencwas made with a heartful of sympathy,—
which I took away with me, and with it
esson in sincerity and simple-heartednes
rare enough in my experience. There i
gentle blood and enviable in these two
My pen is too clumsy to ink in the detail
of this picture for you.As to Jeffard: When he made hi
appearance I struck hands with your poin
of view sufficiently to meet him as i
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nothing save good fortune had overtake
him,—an attitude which it is sometimes a
difficult for me to maintain as it appear
altogether impossible for some others whused to know him. By which you wil
understand that he is ostracized in a way
or would be in any casting of the potsher
votes by the unthinking majority.
I am bound to say, however, that the
whiplash of public opinion does not see
o be quite long enough to reach him. Afortnight ago, for reasons charitable o
experimental, as you please, I got him
bidding to one of Mrs. Calmaine'
"ridottos." You know Mrs. Calmaine andher tolerance, and you will appreciate th
situation when I tell you that I had t
manœuvre a bit for the formal invitation
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hough Jeffard used to be in her goo
book. Jeffard accepted, and I went wit
him to see what would befall. There wer
a good many there who had known thprehistoric Jeffard, and while they did no
pointedly ignore him, they seemed to b
divided between a desire to cold-shoulde
he man and to conciliate the prospectivmillionaire;—wherefore the
compromised by giving him what yo
would call "the high hand-shake."
Whatever may have been my motive i
dragging him into it, Jeffard's own reason
for going were confessedly experimenta
So much he confided to me on our earlretreat from the house of mirth. "I wante
o find out where I stand," he said, "an
hese good people have been quit
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explicit. Don't get me any mor
nvitations." And after a time he added, "
can buy them when I want them." Fro
which you will infer that he wilhenceforth sit in the seat of the scornfu
and this, I fear, is the lamentable fact.
Touching his present mode of life, iborders on the puzzling. With a ban
deposit which is currently reported t
reach seven figures, and which i
doubtless well up in the sixes, he lives iwo rooms in a block, and takes his meal
at the club. A very rich spendthrift migh
do this, you will say, saving at the spigo
and wasting at the bung; but so far as mobservation goes, Jeffard seems not t
know that his barrel has a bung. And if an
of the staves have started on the side o
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dissipation, the leak is not yet apparent t
me. The other evening, when I let drive
ittle arrow pointed with a gibe at hi
penuriousness, he laughed and remindeme of something he had said one night i
he famine time when we were dining b
he help of a small windfall of mine. "
old you I should be a miser if the tidever turned," said he, "and you scoffed a
me. I assure you I can account for ever
dollar I have spent since the Midas bega
o pour them in."
This is his attitude as he defines it, bu
can qualify the accusation a little on th
friendly side. I should rather say that hhad set his mark at thrifty frugality. He i
not niggardly; in benevolences which ma
be paid for in the coin of effort he is stil
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generous; and if he were living on
clerk's income people would commen
him.
But I fancy I hear you cry "Enough!
and this ends with the heartiest goo
wishes for you both.
Faithfully yours,
Robert Lansdale.
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CHAPTER XXVIII
Lansdale had defined himself as
reporter on the "Coloradoan," but i
reality he was rather more,—or less,—
being that anomalous member of
newspaper staff known as the literar
editor. Kershaw had taken him i
doubtfully, and had afterward wonderedwhy a man with such an evident gift fo
ournalistic work should prefer to spen
his days and nights writing stories whic
no one would buy. For, contrary to alprecedent, when he could sink his literar
ambitions the fictionist proved to be
general utility journalist of no uncertai
ability, running the office gamut fro
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proof-reading in an emergency to fillin
he editorial columns on the rar
occasions when Kershaw was absent.
It was during one of the Kershawa
absences that the letter to Bartrow wa
written; and the hands of the paper-weigh
clock on the desk were pointing to thsupper hour when Lansdale dropped th
pen and drew down the desk-curtain
Unlike his chief, he rarely ignored th
supper recess, though a walk in the opeair often took the place of the meal; an
having his night's work well in hand, h
et himself into the corridor, said "Down!
and was presently set afoot at the streeevel.
As usual, the swift rush down th
elevator-shaft dizzied him, and he had t
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steady himself before he could go on
When he allowed himself to think about i
he realized that these dizzyings wer
growing commoner, and were set awhirby slighter exciting causes. Another man
or a man with another ailment, might hav
given the unnerving weakness its tru
name and place and succumbed to it; buLansdale 's métier had been love
ransformed into unflinching hopefulness
and the trivialities of the daily walk ha
come to be so many blind and desperat
sorties against the indrawing lines of th
relentless besieger. For of the two lion
standing in the way to the House Beautifuhat named Inequality had been slain b
he collapse of the Lodestar; wherefor
his other of Ill-health must either slay o
be slain, since love would not be denied.
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This was what was in his resolute ste
when he went forth into the night; into th
whirl of life on the peopled streets an
sidewalks. Some vague supper promptingwere present, but a stronger impulse sen
him riverward, away from the thickl
peopled walks and down into th
wholesale district toward a shabbapartment building which had been lef
stranded on the bar of traffic when th
uptown tide had set in.
The little excursion was purposeless
as had been many another in the sam
direction; but when he found himsel
opposite the stairway of the shabbbuilding he wondered if he might not g
up and ask Constance for a cup of tea. H
was wise in his generation, and he ha
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ong since discovered that the way t
Constance Elliott's heart lay throug
helpings accepted. With love aboundin
for any human soul at need, there werprecious reserves of tenderness for thos
o whom she might minister.
Lansdale glanced up at the two lightewindows on the third floor and crosse
he street. In the stair archway, which wa
dimly lighted by a single inefficient gas
et, he stumbled upon a bit of by-play, iwhich the actors were a man and a woma
eaning together across the stair-rail, and
barelegged boy spying upon the twai
from the dimnesses beyond. The littlableau fell apart at the sound of th
ntruder's footsteps. The boy vanishe
mysteriously, the woman ran upstairs, and
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he man turned half angrily, as one faulted
t was Jeffard; and when he recognize
Lansdale he spoke quickly, as if to
forestall possible comment.
"Hello!—think of the devil and you'l
hear the clatter of his hoofs. I was jus
about to go up to the print-shop to see if could find you. Been to supper?"
"No; I was"—
Jeffard cut in again swiftly, wit
edgings streetward. "That's lucky; neithe
have I. Let's go up to the club."
Lansdale acceded rather reluctantlysince a cup of tea with Constance easil
outweighed the grill-room prospect.
"I'll go with you, though I can't promis
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o play much of a knife and fork," he said
"I was just going up to ask Miss Elliott t
give me a cup of tea."
They were turning the corner above th
stranded apartment house before Jeffar
returned the shuttle of speech.
"So the Elliotts live down there now
do they?"
Lansdale said "Yes," and began to
rummage in recollection. Had Jeffard bee
on Constance Elliott's visiting list in th
prehistoric time? It was probable that h
had been,—with Dick Bartrow for hi
sponsor. But at this point recollectio
urned up the mental notes of a certain tal
with Bartrow, in which the downright on
had confessed his sins of omissio
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Jeffardward. So Lansdale added a quer
o the affirmative.
"Yes; they live in the Thorson BlockDo you know them?"
Jeffard's reply was no reply. "I'll hav
o take time to think about it," he said; an
hey had traversed the necessary street
and found a table à deux in the grill-roo
at the club before he pieced out th
unfinished rejoinder.
"You asked me if I knew the Elliotts.
did know Miss Elliott,—as I knew som
of those people at Mrs. Calmaine's th
other evening. It's quite likely she does no
remember me."
Lansdale's brain went apart again, an
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he reflective half of it continued th
rummaging. On the two or three occasion
when he had mentioned the newest star i
he bonanzine firmament Constance habeen visibly disturbed. The nature of he
resentment had not been quite obvious, bu
Jeffard's tardy rejoinder made it clear
She had known Jeffard and was sorry tbe reminded of him.
Lansdale had not done full justice t
himself in slurring his own point of viewn the letter to Bartrow. So far as he had
analyzed it he had been content to call i
negative, but it was not quite that. On th
contrary, it was complaisant, concernintself chiefly with the things of past sight
and not unduly with those of presen
rumor. Jeffard might be an indubitabl
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scoundrel in his later reincarnation, a
certain of the mining-camp newspaper
had intimated in their accounts of the figh
for possession; but in the older time hhad been a good fellow and a generou
friend at a pinch. Lansdale remembere
some of the generosities, and his hear
went soft at the recollection of themKershaw had kept the secret of th
prearranged purchase of certain unusabl
manuscripts, but the pigeon-holes of
newspaper office are open archives, an
one day Lansdale had found a clue whic
he had followed out to his comforting;
string of hitherto unexplainable incidentswith two stanch friends at the end of it.
One of these loyal friends was the ma
at whom public opinion was now pointin
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a dubious finger; and while Lansdale wa
munching his toast and drinking his cup o
weak tea in troubled silence, it began t
be discomfortingly evident that he muspresently take sides for or against the ma
whose hospitality he was at that momen
sharing. Left to itself, the insularity in hi
would have evaded the issue. Loyalty ohe crucible-test degree of fineness—th
oyalty of the single eye—must needs si
below the salt at the table of any analyst o
his kind; and Lansdale was a student firs
and a partisan only when benefits unforgo
constrained him. Moreover, frankness i
he last resort is rarely at its best in anvivisector of his fellow-men, and it wa
with no little difficulty that Lansdale mad
shift to overleap the barrier of reserve.
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"Jeffard," he began, when the weak te
was low in the cup, "we used to be prett
near to each other in a time that I like t
remember; will you bear with me if I sawhat is in my mind?"
"Surely," said Jeffard; but the tone wa
not of assurance.
"You know what the newspaper
ntimated last fall, and what people ar
saying of you now?"
"Yes."
"And that your silence makes it rathe
hard for your friends?"
"I have no friends, Lansdale."
"Oh, yes, you have; or you would hav
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f you would take the trouble to se
yourself aright."
"What if I cannot set myself aright?""I should be sorry to believe that,—
more than sorry to be driven to admit th
alternative."
"What is the alternative?"
Lansdale hesitated, as one who has hi
point at his adversary's breast and is loato drive it in. "I don't quite like to put it i
words, Jeffard; the English is a bit harsh
But you will understand that it is th
smiting of a friend. So long as you refuso say you didn't, the supposition is tha
you have robbed a man to whom you wer
under rather heavy obligations."
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"Is that Bartrow's supposition?"
"He says it isn't, but I'm afraid the wis
s the father to the thought: in his case an—as in that of others." Lansdale adde
he inclusive in the hope that the woun
would be the better for probing.
Jeffard's laugh was altogether bitter
"'Give a dog a bad name,'" he quoted. "D
you know, I fancied Dick would b
obstinate enough to stand out against thapparent fact?"
"That is precisely what he has done
and with less reason than the most devote
partisan might demand. You know you
old him that the claim was Garvin's. H
wouldn't believe the newspaper story; h
nsisted that you would be able to 'square
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yourself, as he phrased it, when you cam
out."
Jeffard was looking past hinterlocutor, out and beyond to where th
farther tables were emptying themselve
of the late diners.
"Yet it is his supposition; and you
own, you were going to say. Is it Mis
Elliott's also?"
Lansdale resisted the impulse t
rummage again, and said: "I don't know
hat—how should I know? But rumor ha
made the charge, and you have not denie
t."
"I don't mean to deny it—not even t
her. But neither have I admitted it."
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"My dear Jeffard! aren't the facts a
admission?—at least, so long as the
stand uncontradicted."
"Everybody seems to think so,—and
can afford to be indifferent."
"Having the money, you mean?—
possibly. Am I to take that as an admissio
of the facts?"
"Facts are fixtures, aren't they? thing
not to be set up or set aside by admission
or denials. But you may take it as yo
please."
Lansdale shook his head as one whosdeprecation is too large for speech. "
can't begin to understand it, Jeffard,—th
motive which could impel a man of you
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convictions, I mean."
Jeffard broke forth in revilings. "Wha
do you know about my convictions? Whado you know about anything in the heart o
man? You have a set of formulas which
you call types, and into which you try to fi
all human beings arbitrarily, each after hikind. It's the merest child's-play; a fallac
based on an assumption. No two men ca
be squared by the same rule; no two wil
do the same things under exactly similaconditions. Character-study is you
specialty, I believe; but you have yet to
earn that the human atom is a
rresponsible individuality."
"Oh, no, I haven't; I grant you that. Bu
ogically"—
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"Logic has nothing whatever to do wit
t. It's ego, pure and unstrained, in most o
us; a sluggish river of self, with
quicksand of evil for its bottom."
Lansdale borrowed a gun of hi
antagonist, and sighted it accurately.
"What do you know about humanity a
a whole? What do you know about an
part of it save your own infinitesima
fraction?—which seems to be a ratheunfair sample."
Jeffard confessed judgment and pai
he costs. "I don't know very much abou
he sample, Lansdale. One time—it was i
he sophomore year, I believe—I thought
knew my own potentialities. But I didn't. I
any one had prophesied then that I had it i
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me to do what I have done, I should hav
demanded a miracle to confirm it."
"But you must justify yourself tyourself," Lansdale persisted.
"Why must I? That is another of you
cut-and-dried formulas. So far fro
recognizing any such obligation, I may sa
hat I gave up trying to account for mysel
a long time ago. And if I have found i
mpossible, it isn't worth while for you try."
Lansdale was not the man to bruise hi
hands with much beating upon the barre
doors of any one's confidence. So he said
"I'm done. It's between you and you
conscience,—if you haven't eliminate
hat with the other things. But I had hope
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you'd see fit to defend yourself. Th
eternal query is sharp enough without th
pointing of particular instances."
Jeffard squared himself, with hi
elbows on the table.
"Do you want an hypothesis, too?—a
another man did? Take this, and make the
most of it. You knew me and my lacks and
havings. You knew that I had reached a
point at which I would have pawned msoul for the wherewithal to purchase
short hour or two of forgetfulness. Hol
hat picture in your mind, and conceiv
hat a summer of unsuccessful prospectinhad not changed me for better or worse. I
he point of view unobstructed?"
"The point of view is your own, no
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mine," Lansdale objected. "And
moreover, the summer did change you
because advancement in some direction i
an irrefrangible law. But go on."
"I will. This man whom you have i
mind was suddenly brought face to fac
with a great temptation,—great and subtleGarvin drove the tunnel on the Mida
hree years ago and abandoned it a
worthless. It was my curiosity which le
o the discovery of the gold. It was I whook the sample to the assayer and carrie
he news of the bonanza to Garvin. I migh
have kept the knowledge to myself, but
didn't. Why? do you ask? I don't know—perhaps because it didn't occur to me
What followed Bartrow has told you, bu
not all. Let us assume that the race t
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Aspen was made in good faith; that thi
man who had put honor and good repor
behind him really meant to stand betwee
a drunken fool and the fate he was rushinupon. Can you go so far with me?"
Lansdale nodded. He was spellbound
but it was the artist in him and not the mawho hung breathless upon the edge o
expectancy.
"Very well; now for the crux. This manknelt behind a locked door and hear
himself execrated by the man he wa
rying to save; heard the first kindl
mpulse he had yielded to in monthdistorted into a desperate plan to rob th
cursing maniac. Is it past belief that h
crept away from the locked door and sa
down to ask himself in hot resentment wh
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he should go on? Is it not conceivable tha
he should have begun to give ear to th
plea of self-preservation?—to say t
himself that if the maniac were no bettehan a lost man it was no reason that th
reasure should be lost also?"
It was altogether conceivable, anLansdale nodded again. Jeffard found
cigar and went on while he was clippin
he end of it.
"But that was not all. Picture this ma
at the crumbling point of resolutio
iptoeing to the door to listen again. H
has heard enough to convince him that thmiracle of fortune will be worse tha
wasted upon the drunken witling. Now h
s to hear that the besotted fool ha
already transferred whatever right he ha
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n the Midas to the two despoilers; signe
a quitclaim, sold his miracle for a drink o
wo of whiskey, more or less. Are you
istening?"
Lansdale moistened his lips with th
ees of the tea in the empty cup, and said
"Yes; go on."
Jeffard sat back and lighted the cigar
"That's all," he said curtly. "It's enough
sn't it? You knew the man a year ago; yohink you know him now. What would h
do?"
If the hypothesis were intended to be
est of blind loyalty it missed the mark b
ust so much as the student of his kind mus
hold himself aloof from sympatheti
entanglements. Lansdale weighed th
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evidence, not as a partisan, but rather a
an onlooker whose point of view wa
wholly extrinsic.
"I understand," said he; "the man woul
do as you have done. It's your own affair
As I said a few minutes ago, it is betwee
you and your private conscience. And dare say if the facts were known th
public conscience wouldn't condemn you
Don't you want to use the columns of th
Coloradoan'?"
Jeffard's negative was explosive. "D
you write me down a fool as well as
knave? Damn the public conscience!"
"Don't swear; I was only offering t
urn the stone for you if you've anything t
grind."
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"I haven't. If I wanted the consent of th
majority I could buy it,—buy it if I ha
shot the maniac instead of letting hi
shoot me."
"Possibly; and yet you couldn't buy an
fraction of it that is worth having,
Lansdale asserted, with conviction"There are a few people left who have no
bowed the head in the house of Rimmon."
The cynical hardness went out oJeffard's eye and lip, and for the first tim
since the proletary's reincarnation
Lansdale fancied he got a brief glimpse o
he man he had known in the day osincerity.
"A few, yes; the Elliotts, father and
daughter, for two, you would say.
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wonder if you could help me there."
"To their good opinion?—my dea
Jeffard, I'm no professional consciencekeeper!"
"No, I didn't mean that. What I had i
mind is a much simpler thing. A year ago
Miss Elliott gave me of her abundance
She meant it as a gift, though I made it
oan and repaid the principal—when
was able to. But I am still in her debtMeasured by consequences, which are th
only true interest-table, the earnings of he
small investment are hardly to b
computed in dollars and cents. Naturallyshe won't take that view of it, but that doe
not cancel my obligation. Will you help
me to discharge it? They need money."
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Lansdale let the appeal simmer in th
pot of reflection. His inclination was t
refuse to be drawn into any suc
entanglement; but the opportunity to lesseby ever so little the burdens of the woma
he loved was not to be lightly set aside
one the less, the thing seeme
mpossible.
"I'm afraid it's too big for me, Jeffard;
shouldn't know how to go about it. Don
misunderstand me. I shouldn't stick at thnecessary equivocations; but if you know
Miss Elliott you must know tha
Machiavelli himself couldn't be insincer
with her. She would have to be told thruth, and"—
He left the sentence incomplete, an
Jeffard took it up at the break.
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"And if she should acknowledge m
obligation—which she would not—sh
would refuse to be reimbursed out o
Garvin's money. That is why I haven't senher a note with a check in it. Will you
have another cup of tea?"
Lansdale took the query as a dismissaof the subject and pushed back his chair
On the way out they passed a late incomer
a florid man, with a nervous step and th
eye of preoccupation. He nodded tLansdale in passing, and Jeffard said, "D
you know him?"
"Yes; it's Finchly,—John Murray's manof business."
Jeffard had apparently relapsed int
he deeper depths of cynicism again.
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"Yes, I know. That's the charitable
euphemism. Murray is a day laborer
ransmogrified by a lucky strike into
millionaire. He doesn't know enough twrite his own name, much less how t
keep a great fortune from dissolving, so h
hires a manager. It was a happy thought
What does Finchly get?"
Lansdale laughed. "A good living
doubtless."
"Of course; and much more, with th
pickings. But there is a salary which i
supposed to be the consideration, isn
here?"
"Oh, yes; and the figure of it varie
with the imagination of the gossips fro
en to fifty thousand a year."
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Jeffard stopped to relight his cigar, and
Lansdale fancied that the Finchly quer
went out with the spent match. But Jeffar
revived it a square farther on.
"Suppose we assume, for the sake o
argument, that the man has a conscience
How much could he justly take for thservice rendered?"
They were at the entrance of th
"Coloradoan" building, and Lansdale tooout his notebook and made
memorandum.
"That is good for a column," he said
"'The Moral Responsibility o
Millionaire-Managers.' I'll answer you
question later, when I've had time to thin
t over."
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"But, seriously," Jeffard insisted. "Is i
worth ten thousand a year?—or the half o
t? The man is only a cashier,—a high
class accountant at best."
"Finchly is much more than that; he i
Murray's brain as well as his pen-hand
But if he were only a money-counter, money-counter's salary would be enough
say two or three thousand a year, to b
iberal."
Jeffard nodded and was turning away
had in fact taken three steps streetward
when he came back to return to the subjec
dropped at the supper table as thoughere had been no hiatus.
"You were going to say she would
refuse to take Garvin's money, and I said i
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for you. Would it make it any easier if
can assure you that the money I shall put i
your hands is honestly mine?—that Jame
Garvin has no claim, ethical or otherwiseupon it? Take time to consider it,—with
an eye to Miss Elliott's present need
rather than to my havings or wishes in th
matter."
Lansdale was off his guard, and th
human side of him came uppermost in th
swift rejoinder,—"Then you didn't tell mhe whole truth? The Midas is honestl
yours, after all?"
Jeffard turned away and snapped thash from his cigar. "Don't jump a
conclusions," he said. "It's always safer t
go on voting with the majority. What I sai
has nothing to do with the story of the ma
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and his temptation; but the meanest labore
s worthy of his hire. I worked all winte
with pick and shovel in the Midas. Good
night."
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CHAPTER XXIX
It was early in June when th
pneumatic drill in the Little Myriad wa
smashed by a premature blast, and th
master of the mine was constrained t
make a flying trip to Denver to replace it
As a matter of course, if not, indeed, o
necessity, Myra went with him. Theraveled by the night train, breakfasted o
canned viands out of the Pullman buffe
and so took Constance by surprise.
Myra had projects in view, som
Utopian and others more Utopian, with he
relatives for nuclei; and when Richard th
untactful had been sent about hi
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machinery business, she settled down fo
a persuasive day with Constance. Now
Constance had been taken unawares, bu
she was of those who fight best at disadvantage, and the end of the day foun
he Utopian projects still in air, being held
n suspension by an obstinate youn
person who steadily refused to make oherself a vessel meet for condolence an
cousinly beneficence.
"It's no use, cuzzy dear; you shall havan option on the help stock when there i
any for sale, but at present there are n
quotations."
Thus Connie, at the very end of th
persuasive day. Upon which the youn
wife, with patience outwearing o
outworn, retorts smartly:—
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"I suppose you think it's heroic—you
iving like this; but it isn't. It is just plai
poverty pride, which is all well enough t
keep the crowd out, but which is simplwicked when it makes you shut the door i
our faces. Think of it—you living here i
hree rooms at the top of a block when th
Myriad has begun to pay dividends! didn't mean to tell you just yet, but Dick i
going to buy back the Colfax Avenue
house, and it shall stand empty til
doomsday if you won't go and live in it."
In times not long past Connie woul
have returned railing for railing—wit
nterest added; but the reproachful day habeen no less trying to her than to Myra
and the poverty fight—and some others—
were sore upon her. Hence her disclaime
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was of courageous meekness, with a smil
of loving appreciation to pave the way.
"I hope Dick will do no sucpreposterous thing—unless you want it fo
yourselves. You know it would be quite
out of the question for us to take it. Or t
do anything but make the best of what hahappened," she added.
Myra was standing at a window
ooking down into the street where thearly dusk was beginning to prick out th
point-like coruscations of the arc-lights
There was that in Connie's eyes whic
beckoned tears to eyes sympathetic; anshe found it easier to go on with her bac
urned upon the room and its othe
occupant.
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"To make the best of it, yes; but you ar
not making the best of it. Or, if you are, th
best is miserably bad. You are looking
hin and wretched, as if—as if you didnget enough to eat."
There was a touch of the old-tim
resilience in Connie's laugh. "How cayou tell when you're not looking at me
ndeed, it hasn't come to that yet. We have
enough, and a little to spare for those wh
have less."
Myra had been searching earnestly al
day for some little rift into which th
wedge of helpfulness might be driven, anhere was an opening—of the vicariou
sort.
"Won't you let me be your purseholde
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for those who have less, Connie? That i
he very least you can do."
Constance willed it thankfully. Aftehe trying day of refusals it was grateful t
find something that could be conceded.
"I believe I told you once that
wouldn't be your proxy in that way, didn
? But I will, now. You are so much better
han your theories, Myra."
Myra left the window at that, wrote
generous check before the concessio
should have time to shrink in the cooling
and then went over to sit on the denim
covered lounge with her arm around he
cousin's waist.
"Now that you have begun to b
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reasonable, won't you go a step farther
Connie, dear? I know there are troubles
—lots of them besides the pinching. Can
you lean on me just a little bit? I do swant to help you."
Connie did it literally, with her face o
Myra's shoulder and a sob at the catchinof her breath. Myra let her take her ow
ime, as a judicious comforter will, an
when the words came they wrough
hemselves into a confession.
"Oh, Myra, I thought I was so strong
and I'm not!" she wept. "The bullet in
gun hasn't less to say about where it shalbe sent. I said it wasn't the pinch, but it i
—or part of it is. Poppa has set his hear
upon trying the mountains again, old as h
s, and he can't go because—because ther
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sn't money enough to outfit him with wha
he could carry on his back!"
"And you would have let me gwithout telling me!" said Myr
reproachfully. "He shall have a whol
pack train of 'grub stake,'—is that what
should say?—and you shall come and stawith us while he is away. Consider that
rouble past, and tell me some more. You
don't know how delicious it is to b
permitted to pose as a small god in a car."
"Yes, I do," Connie responded, out of a
heartful of similar ecstasies. "But it isn't
rouble past: he won't let you do itEverybody has been offering to lend hi
money, and he won't take it."
"He will have to take it from me," sai
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Myra, with prompt decision. "I'll mak
him. And when he goes, you will come to
us, won't you?"
Constance looked up with a smil
shining through the tears. "You're good
Myra, just like Dick! But I can't, yo
know. I must stay here."
"Why must you?" To the querist there
seemed to be sufficiently good reasons
from the point of view of the proprietiesfor setting Connie's decision asid
mandatorily, but Myra had grown warie
f not wiser in her year of cousin-kenning.
"There are reasons,—duties which
must not shirk."
"Are they namable?"
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"Yes; Margaret is the name of one o
hem."
Myra's disapproval found vent igentle foot-tappings. To the moderately
compassionate on-looker it would see
hat Constance had long since filled tha
measure of responsibility,—filled andheaped it to overflowing. But again th
experienced one was discreet.
"As Dick would put it, you havangeled' Margaret for a year and more
sn't she yet able to stand alone?"
Connie's answer was prompt an
decisive. "Quite as well able as the bes
of us would be under similar conditions."
"I wouldn't make it conditional; bu
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we've never been able to keep step in tha
ourney. Why is Margaret's cas
exceptional?"
"Did I say it was? It isn't. She is jus
one of any number of poor girls who ar
rying to live honestly, with the barriers o
nnocence all down and an overwhelminemptation always beckoning."
Myra shook her head. "That is makin
emptation a constraint, when it can nevebe more than a lure. I must confess I can
get far enough away from the conventiona
point of view to understand how a youn
woman like Margaret, who has been lifteand carried and set fairly upon her feet
could be tempted to go back to the utte
misery and degradation of the other life."
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Constance spoke first to the sophism
and then to the particular instance.
"It is not true that temptation is alwaya lure. It is oftener a constraint. And yo
say you can't understand. It is terribl
simple. They sin first for a thing whic
hey mistake for love; but after that it is fobread and meat, and surcease from toi
which has become a mere frenzie
struggle to keep body and soul together
You don't know what it is to be poorMyra,—with the barriers down. Have yo
any idea how much Margaret earned las
week, working steadily the six days an
deep into the nights?"
"Oh, not very much, I suppose. But he
necessities are not large."
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"Are they not? They are as large a
yours or mine. She must eat and drink an
have a bed to sleep on and clothes t
cover her. And to provide these she wapaid three dollars and eighty-five cents fo
her week's work; and two dollars of tha
had to go for rent. Is the temptation a lur
or a constraint in her case?"
Myra was silenced, if not convinced
and she went back to the fact existent wit
sympathy no more than seemingly aloof.
"You hinted at Margaret's peculia
besetment in one of your letters. Is tha
what you have to stay and fight?"
Constance nodded assent.
"I have been hoping you wer
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mistaken. Dick is still loyally incredulous
sn't there a chance that you or Tommie, o
both of you, have taken too much fo
granted?"
Connie's "No" was almost inaudible
and there was chastened sorrow in he
voice when she went on to tell howTommie had seen Jeffard and Margare
ogether, not once, but many times; how
he man was always persuading, and th
woman, reluctant at first, was visiblyielding; how within a week Tommie had
seen Jeffard give her money.
"And she took it?" Myra queried.
"She didn't want to take it. Tommie
says she almost fought with him to mak
him take it back. But he wouldn't."
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Myra's sympathy circled down, but i
alighted upon Connie. "You poor dear
after all your loving-kindnesses an
helpings! It's miserable; but you can't danything if you stay."
"Yes, I can. I couldn't stay alone, o
course, and she will give up her room ancome here to live with me. That will giv
me a better hold on her than I have now."
"But if you had a hundred eyes yocouldn't safeguard her against her will!"
"No; but it isn't her will,—it's his. And
he will not come here."
Myra's brows went together in a littl
frown of righteous indignation. "I shoul
hope not,—the wretch! You were right
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after all, Connie, and I'll retract all th
charitable things Dick wanted me to say
He is too despicable"—
It was Connie's hand on the accusin
ips that cut short the indignan
arraignment.
"Please don't!" she pleaded. "He is al
hat you can say or think, but my ears ar
weary with my own repetitions of it."
Myra took the hand from her lips an
held it fast while she tried to search he
cousin's face. But the gathering dusk ha
mounted from the level of the street to tha
of the upper room, and it baffled the eye
questioning.
"Connie Elliott! I more than hal
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believe"—She stopped abruptly, as i
here had been some dumb protest of th
mprisoned hand, and then went on with
swift change from accusation to gentlreproach. "I believe you have only jus
begun to tell me your troubles,—and I'v
been with you all day! What are som
more of them?"
"I have told you the worst of them,—o
at least that part of them which makes i
mpossible for me to go away. But there ianother reason why I ought to stay."
"Is that one namable, too?"
"Yes; but perhaps you won
understand. And you will be sure to tel
me it isn't proper. I think one of Mr
Lansdale's few pleasures is his comin
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here."
"Few remaining pleasures, you woul
say, if you were not too tender-hearted. It wise, Connie?"
"Why not?—if it is a comfort to him?"
Myra hesitated, not because she hanothing to say, but because she knew no
how to say the thing demanded.
"You haven't given me leave to bequite frank with you, Connie. But it seem
o me that your kindness in this case is—i
mistaken kindness."
Constance's rejoinder was merely a
underthought slipping the leash. "It is no
o be expected that any one woul
understand," she said.
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"But I do understand," Myra asserted
his time with better confidence. "I'm no
supposed to have the slightest inkling o
your feelings,—you've never lisped word to me,—but Mr. Lansdale's motive
are plain enough to be read in the dark. I
he were a well man he would have aske
you to marry him long ago."
"Do you think so?" said Constance hal
absently. "I'm not so sure about that. He i
far away from home and wretchedly iland he has many acquaintances and few
real friends."
"But he loves you," Myra persisted.
"He has never said anything like that t
me."
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"It is quite possible that he never wil
n view of the insurmountable obstacle."
"His ill-health, you mean? Myra, dearyou surely know love better than that—
now. Love is the one thing which wil
both sow and reap even in the day whe
he heavens are of brass and the earth is barren desert."
The under-roar of traffic in the stree
made the silence in the upper room moreffective by contrast; like the sense o
solation which is often sharpest in
ostling throng. Myra rose and went to th
window again, coming back presently tstand over Constance and say, "I suppos
t is ordained that you should be a marty
o somebody or something, Connie, dear
and when the time comes I'm not going t
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say you nay, because I think you will b
happier that way. If Mr. Lansdale should
be tempted to say that which I am sure h
has determined not to say, is your answeready?"
Connie's hands were clasped over on
knee, and the poise was of introspectivbeatitude. But the answer to Myra's quer
was not irrelevant.
"He is the truest of gentlemen; whawould your answer be, Myra?"
It was the young wife in Myra Bartrow
hat precious bit of clay as yet plasti
under the hand of the master-potter, tha
prompted the steadfast reply.
"If I loved him as I ought, I should pra
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God to make me unselfish enough to sa
yes, Connie."
"So should I," said Constance simplyand Myra made the lighting of the lamp a
excuse for the diversion which the thre
soft-spoken words demanded. And whe
she went back to the matter of fact, shouched lightly upon what she conceive
o be a wound yet far from healing.
"You have silenced me, Connie, but can at least provide for the contingency. I
he event shapes itself so that you are fre
o come to us, don't let Margaret stand i
he way. Bring her with you, and we'lfind room and work for her."
Connie's eyes were shining, but ther
was a loving smile struggling with th
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ears. "I said you were good, like Dick
Myra, dear, and I can't put it any stronger
f I don't take you at your word, it will no
be for anything you have left unsaid. Isnhat Dick coming?"
It was. There was a double step in th
corridor, and Bartrow came in witStephen Elliott. Since the battl
persuasive with the daughter had kept he
single-eyed, Myra had had but brie
glimpses of the father during the day; bunow she remarked that his step was a littl
ess firmly planted than it had been in tha
holiday time when he had played th
unwonted part of escort in ordinary to twyoung women who had dragged hi
whither they would,—and whither h
would not. Moreover, there was the loo
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of the burden-bearer in his eyes, thoug
heir fire was undimmed; and an air o
belated sprightliness in his manner whic
went near to Myra's heart, because shknew it came of conscious effort. Thes
ottings and others, the added stoop of th
shoulders, and the lagging half-step to th
rear in entering, as of one who may nonger keep pace with younger men, Myr
made while Dick was timing the dash fo
heir train.
"Thirty-five minutes more, and we'l
quit you,—say, Uncle Steve, that clock o
yours is slow,—that's half an hour fo
supper, and five minutes for the yum-yumat the car-step. Gear yourselves, you two
and we'll all go and make a raid on th
supper-room at the station."
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"Indeed, we sha'n't," said Connie, i
hospitable protest. "You are going to ea
bread and butter and drink strong tea o
he top floor of the Thorson Block. I'vhad the water cooking for an hour, and yo
sha'n't make me waste gasoline in any suc
way."
Dick would have argued the point wit
her; was, in fact, beginning the counter
protest, when Myra stopped him.'
"Of course we'll stay," she assented
"You go with Connie and help make the
ea, Dick. I haven't begun to have a visi
with Uncle Stephen yet."
Bartrow gave up the fight and was le
captive of the small one to the roo
across the corridor which served as
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kitchen. Left alone with his sister'
daughter, Stephen Elliott had a sudde
return of the haltingnesses which th
Philadelphia niece, newly arrived, used tnspire; but Myra asked only for a
acquiescent listener.
"Uncle Stephen," she began, pinninhim in the lounge-corner from which ther
was no possibility of escape, "I've bee
wanting to get at you all day, and I wa
afraid you weren't going to give me chance. You have 'grub-staked' a lot o
people, first and last, haven't you?"
The old man eyed her suspiciously foa moment, and then evidently banished th
suspicion as a thing unworthy.
"Why, yes; I have staked a good few o
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hem, first and last, as you say."
"I knew it, and I wanted to ask
question. How much money did yousually give them?"
The suspicion was well lulled by this
and finding himself upon familiar ground
he pioneer went into details.
"That depended a good deal upon th
other fellow. Some of them—most of 'em
was going to say—couldn't be truste
with money at all, and I'd go buy them a
outfit and stay with them till they got out o
range of the saloons and green tables."
"But when you found one whom yo
could trust, how much money did you giv
him? I'm not idly curious; I know a ma
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who wants to go prospecting, and I hav
promised to 'stake' him."
The suspicion raised its head againand was promptly clubbed int
submission. Some one of the Myriad me
wanted to try his luck, and he ha
"braced" the wife rather than the husbandSo thought the pioneer, and made answe
accordingly.
"I wouldn't monkey with it, if I weryou, Myra; leastwise, not without lettin
Dick into it. He's right on the ground, an
he'll tell you how much you'd ought to pu
up; or—what's more likely—if yooughtn't to tell the fellow to stick to hi
day-pay in the mine."
"Dick knows," said Myra, anticipatin
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he exact truth by some brief hour or so
"and he's quite willing. But you know
Dick; if I should leave it with him h
would give the man all he had and go anborrow for himself. I want a good sobe
conservative opinion,—not to
conservative, you know, but just abou
what you would need if you were goinout yourself."
Elliott became dubitantly reflective
being divided between a desire to sparMyra's purse and a disposition born o
fellow-feelings to make it as easy as migh
be for the unknown beneficiary.
"Oh, I don't know," he said, at length
"If the fellow is going by himself, he won
need much; but if he takes a partner it'l
ust about double the stake. Is he going t
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play it alone?"
Myra could see through the open doo
nto the adjoining room, and she sawConnie bringing in the tea. Time wa
growing precious, if the conclusion wer
not to be tripped up by an interruption.
"I suppose he'll take a partner; the
always do, don't they? Anyway, I want to
make it enough so that he can if h
chooses. Please tell me how much."
"Well, if he knows how to cut the
corners and how to outfit so as to make th
most of what he has, he'd ought to be abl
o do it on a couple of hundred or so. But
don't know if that ain't pretty liberal," h
added, as if upon second thought.
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Myra went quickly to the table unde
he lamp, and wrote upon a slip of paper
Elliott thought she was making a note o
her information; and when she put thcheck into his hands he took i
mechanically. But her hurried explanatio
drove the firing-pin of intelligence.
"It's for you—you are the man, Uncl
Stephen; and if it isn't enough, it's you
own fault." She said it with one eye on th
wo in the next room, and with nerves tautbraced for the shock of refusal. The shoc
came promptly.
"Oh—say—here! Myra, girl; I canake this from you!" He was on his feet
rying to give back the check; and as sh
eluded him he followed her about th
room, protesting as he went. "It's just lik
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you to offer it, but I can't, don't you see
'll rope somebody else in; somebody tha
knows the chances. Here, take it back,—
'm getting pretty old, and just as like anot I won't find anything worth assaying
Come, now; you be a good girl, and"—
He had driven her into a corner, and iwas time for the coup de main. So she pu
her arms about his neck and her face o
his shoulder, and if the attack patheti
were no more than a clever bit of feigningStephen Elliott was none the wiser.
"I—I'd like to know what I have done!
she quavered. "You'd take it from astranger—you said you would—an
you've made me just the same as your ow
daughter, and now you wo—won't let m
do the first little thing I've ever had
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chance to do!"
There were more strong solvents of
similar nature in reserve, but they wernot needed. The good old man wa
helplessly soluble in any woman's tears
real or invented; and his fine resolutio
melted and the bones of it became awater.
"There, there, little girl, don't you tak
on like that. I'll keep it. See? I've chucket right down into the bottom of m
pocket"—he was stroking her hair an
otherwise gentling her as if she were
hurt child. "Don't you fret a little bit. I'lspend it—every last cent of it—just th
way you want me to. You mustn't cry
another tear; Dick'll think I've bee
abusing you, and he'll fire the old uncl
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out of one of these high windows. Haven
you got any handkerchief?"
Connie and Dick were at the doorannouncing the bread and butter and tea
and Myra's handkerchief became
convenient mask for the moment. A les
simple-hearted man than the old pioneemight have suspected the sincerity of suc
ears as may be wiped away at a word
eaving no trace behind them; but Ellio
was too child-like to know aught of thfine art of dissimulation, and he too
Myra's sudden return to cheerfulness as
ribute to his own astuteness in yielding
point at the critical moment.
At the tea-table they were all more o
ess hilarious, each having somewhat t
conceal from the others; and even Bartrow
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was made to feel the thinness of the ic
upon which the trivialities were skating
Much to Connie's surprise, the tactless on
developed unsuspected resources oadroitness in keeping the table-talk a
concert-pitch of levity; and she forgav
him when he was brutal enough to make
est of the simple meal, giving the breaand butter a new name with each asking
and accusing her of being in league wit
he commissary department of th
sleeping-car company. It spoke volume
for Dick's growth in perspicacity that h
was able to discern the keen edge of th
crisis without having actually seen thstone upon which it had been whetted; an
n the midst of her own fencings with th
ensities, Constance found time to wonde
how Myra had wrought even the beginnin
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of such a miracle in the downright one.
In such resolute ignorings of th
moving realities the supper interval wasafely outworn; but when, at the end of it
Dick dragged out his watch and calle
"time," Constance found her tea too ho
and the drinking of it brought tears to heeyes. Whereupon the brutal one made a
exaggerated pretense of sympathy, offerin
her a handkerchief; and the laugh save
hem all until the good-bys were said, anhe guests, with Elliott to speed thei
parting, had gone to the station.
Constance stood in the empty corridountil the farther stair ceased to echo thei
footsteps. The day-long strain was off a
ast, and she meant to go quickly and clea
off the table and wash the supper dishes
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o the end that the reaction might no
overwhelm her. But on the way sh
stopped at the little square table in th
arger room and took a letter from ithiding place at the back of a frame
photograph. It was a double inclosure i
an outside envelope which bore th
business card of a well known legal firmand the wrapping of the inner envelop
was a note on the firm's letter-head
stating in terse phrase that the inclose
etter had been found under the door of a
unoccupied house in Colfax Avenue by the
writer in the early summer of the previou
year; that it had been mislaid; and that iwas now forwarded with many regrets fo
ts unintentional suppression.
Constance read the note mechanically
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as she had read it the day before when th
postman had brought it. It explaine
nothing more than the mere fact of delay
but she understood. The writer of the losetter, or his messenger, had thrust it unde
he door of the wrong house.
She laid the note aside and tilted thenvelope to let a coin fall into her palm. I
was a double-eagle piece, little worn, bu
he memories which clustered about it
giving and taking seemed to dull the lustrof the yellow metal. It was the price o
sorrowful humiliation, no whit less to th
man who had taken than to the woman wh
had given it. She put it that way in anflexible determination to be just. Truly
his acceptance of it was a thing to b
remembered with cheek-burnings o
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shame; but she would not hold hersel
blameless. In the light of that which hi
etter disclosed, her charitable impuls
became a sword to slay the last remnant omanly pride and self-respect—if an
remnant there were.
She opened the letter and re-read it the end, going back from the scarcel
egible signature to a paragraph in th
midst of it that bade fair to grave itsel
neffaceably upon her heart.
"You may remember that I said
couldn't tell you the truth, because i
concerns a woman. When I add that thwoman is yourself, you will understand.
ove you; I think I have been loving yo
ever since that evening which you said w
were to forget—the evening at the theatre
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Strangely enough, my love for you isn
strong in the strength which saves. I wen
from you that night when you had bidde
me God-speed at Mrs. Calmaine's, anwithin the hour I was once more
penniless vagabond.
"When you were trying to help me thiafternoon, I was trying to keep from sayin
hat which I could never have a right t
say. You pressed me very hard in your
sweet innocence"....
She sat down and the letter slippe
from her fingers. The hurt was a year i
he past, but time had not yet dulled thpain of it. Not to any human soul, nor ye
o her own heart, had she admitted the on
iving fact which stood unshaken; whic
would stand, like some polished corner
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stone of a ruined temple, when all els
should have crumbled into dust. For whic
cause she sat with clasped hands and eye
hat saw not; eyes that were still deepwells and clear, but brimming with th
bitter waters of a fountain which flow
only for those whose loss is irreparable
And while she wept, the sorrowful underhought slipped into speech.
"He calls it love, but it couldn't hav
been that. He says it wasn't strong in thstrength that saves; and love is alway
mighty to succor the weak-hearted.
would have believed in him—I di
believe in him, only I didn't know how thelp. But no one could help when he didn
believe in himself; and now he is jus
drifting, with the cruel sword o
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opportunity loose in its scabbard, and al
he unspeakable things dragging hi
whithersoever they will.... And he mean
o end it all when he wrote this letter; know he did. That would have bee
errible; but it would have been brave
han to go on to robbery, and unfaith, and
—and now to this last pitiless iniquityOh, I can't let it go on to that!—not if
have to go and plead with him for the sak
of that which he once thought was—love.
She went down upon her knees with he
face hidden in the chair-cushion, and th
unconscious monologue became
passionate beseeching: "O God, help mo be strong and steadfast, that I may no
fail when I come to stand between thes
wo; for Thou knowest the secrets of th
heart and all its weakness; and Tho
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knowest"—
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CHAPTER XXX
The Bartrows, with Stephen Elliott t
expedite their outsetting, caught their trai
with nothing to spare; and while th
goggle-eyed switch-lamps were stil
flashing past the windows of the sleeping
car, Myra settled herself comfortably i
her corner of the section and demandehe day's accounting.
Bartrow was rummaging in the hand
bag for his traveling-cap, and he looke
up with a most transparent affectation o
surprise.
"Hah? Wasn't I supposed to be chasing
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around all day trying to buy a rock-drill?"
Myra ignored the skilless parry an
hrust home. "Don't tease," she said. "Youdid beautifully at the supper-table, and
am quite sure Connie didn't suspect. But
want to know what has happened."
Bartrow laughed good-naturedly
"Same old window-pane for you to loo
hrough, am I not? It's lucky for me that I'
a rattling good fellow, with nothinparticular inside of me to be ashamed of.
He was thumbing a collection of pocket
worn papers, and presently handed her
crisp bill of exchange for five hundred anforty-five dollars. "What do you think o
hat for one of the happenings!"
She read the figure of it and the date. "
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don't understand," she said. "Where di
you get it?"
"You wouldn't guess in a thousandyears. It's the money I borrowed fo
Jeffard one fine morning last fall, wit
bank interest to date."
"Then you have seen him?"
"Saw him, felt of his hand, and went t
uncheon with him."
"Dick! And you really had the courag
o ask him for this?"
Bartrow's smile was a grimace. "Donyou sit there and tempt me to lie about i
You know what a fool I am with a debtor
Fortunately, I didn't have to ask; it cam
about as most things do in this world—
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click! buzz! boom! and your inferna
machine has exploded. We cannoned
against each other as I was going into th
bank to get the money for the machinerman. After we'd said 'Hello,' and shoo
hands, Jeffard went in with me. On th
way out the cashier stopped us. 'Mr
Jeffard,' says he, 'your personal accounhas a credit of five hundred dollars whic
doesn't appear in the deposits. If you'll le
me have your book I'll enter it.' 'A credit
—of five hundred dollars? I don
understand,' says Jeffard. 'It's all right
says the cashier. 'It came from th
Carbonate City National, in LeadvilleDidn't they notify you?' 'No,' says Jeffard
it must be a mistake. I had no credit i
Leadville.' All this time the cashier wa
digging into his pigeonholes. 'You mus
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have had,' says he. 'I can't put my hand o
heir letter, but as I recall it, they said th
money was a remittance made by yo
sometime last year to cover a promissornote. When it reached them the note ha
matured and had been lifted. They hav
kept your money a good while, but the
claim not to have known your address.'"
Myra was listening with somethin
more than curiosity.
"What did Mr. Jeffard say?" she asked
"He looked a good deal more than h
said; and what he said was rather queer
When he had pulled me a little aside, h
it a cigar and offered me one, as cool a
ce. 'Of course, you'll understand that thi
was all prearranged between Mr. Holbur
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and myself,' says he. 'It would be too grea
a tax upon your credulity to ask you t
believe that it is merely a coincidence
hat I really did send the money to thLeadville bank to lift that note month
ago.' I said No, and meant it; and he wen
over to the exchange window and mad
out a check and bought that draft. Buafterward I could have kicked him fo
making that suggestion. I couldn't brea
away from it to save my life, and it stuc
o me straight through to the finish."
"But you went to luncheon with hi
afterward. Didn't he explain?"
"Not a word. I tried my level best t
pull the thing out of the hole two or thre
imes, but it was buried too deep for me
And somehow that idiotic sneer of hi
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seemed to color everything he said. H
seemed to take it for granted that I'd bee
setting him down all these months for
scalawag, and everything I could say gowisted into a slap. We worried through
he meal, and the cigars after it, in som
sort of thankless fashion; but I wouldn't d
t again for a farm."
Myra became reflectively thoughtfu
and with the jarring of the car the bit o
money paper fell to the floor. Dicrecovered it, put it away, and waited
patiently for her comment. When it came i
was no more than a leading question.
"What do you make of it, Dick?"
"I don't know what to make of it. If
could break away from all the things
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used to know about him, I should say h
acts like a man who has done something t
make him declare war upon himself, an
—as a natural consequence—upoeverybody else. He seems to be ready t
fight at the drop of the hat, and that's a ba
symptom."
"It is a symptom of a guilty conscience
sn't it?"
Bartrow did not answer at once. Tospeak by the fact was to admit that all hi
oyal upholdings of Jeffard had been spen
upon an unworthy object, and he wa
reluctant in just proportion to his loyaltyBut the fact was large—too large to b
overleaped.
"It is a symptom, yes; and I'm beginnin
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o be afraid it's a true one in Jeffard'
case. I didn't find a soft spot in hi
anywhere till we came to speak o
Lansdale."
"They are still friends?"
"Y—es, in a way; a sort of give-and
ake way. Lansdale is cool and prett
well-calculated in his friendships as i
everything else; and I imagine h
forgathers with Jeffard without prejudico his own private convictions in th
Garvin affair. It's a bit odd, but Jeffard
seems to have most of the remembrance
on his side."
"The kindly ones, you mean?"
"Yes. I hadn't seen Lansdale yet, and
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asked Jeffard how he was looking. H
wagged his head, and there was a look i
his eyes that I'd seen there more than onc
n the old days. 'Unless there is somethino be done more than has been tried, it'
only a question of weeks,' said he; an
hen he went back to something I had sai
hat morning in Leadville just before hclimbed the engine for the race to Aspen."
Myra's eyebrows arched a query, and
he elucidated.
"Didn't I tell you? We had been talking
about Connie, and I had hinted that she'
be willing to buy health for Lansdale at price; and he"—
Myra cut in swiftly. "Has she told yo
hat, Dick?"
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"Hardly; but I've eyes, haven't I? Well
as I was saying, Jeffard went back to that
and asked if Lansdale's recovery stil
meant as much to Connie. I told him hought it meant rather more than less; an
hen he went into his shell, and when h
came out it was on the human side. Sai
he had money to burn now, and asked ihere was anything anybody could do t
give Lansdale a better show for his whit
alley. I told him what I'd do if I could
break away from the Myriad."
"I remember; you said you would tak
him afield."
"Yes. Rig up a team and a camping
outfit, and chase him out into th
mountains. Make him live outdoors for
month or two, and belt him over the hea
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f I ever caught him sharpening a lea
pencil. He's grinding away with Kershaw
nights and Sundays, and trying to write
novel between times. It's a clear case owork-to-death."
Myra nodded. "I think so; I hav
hought so all along. But he wouldn't gwith Mr. Jeffard."
"That's what I thought, and what I tol
Jeffard when he hinted at the thing. But wwere both off; and that brings me to th
other happening. After we'd smoked ove
t—Jeffard and I—we went around an
hunted up Lansdale's doctor. Thmedicine-man agreed with me that it wa
he only chance, but he didn't give us muc
encouragement. Said it was a forlor
hope, with the odds against Lansdale; tha
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he'd die if he didn't go, and woul
probably die if he did. Jeffard had been i
and out of his shell two or three time
since the beginning of it, but he came ouagain at that and stayed out. Said he owe
Lansdale, and that would be a good wa
o wipe out the account. I told him tha
wouldn't go; that if he wanted to dLansdale a good turn, he'd have to do it o
ts merits. 'I sha'n't be such a fool as to tel
Lansdale I'm trying to square up with him
says he. 'You go and persuade him.'"
Myra's hand was on his knee. "You
poor boy!" she said; "they always unloa
he thankless things on you, don't theyDid you try?"
"Sure. If I'd felt like hanging back,
sight of Lansdale would have done th
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business for me. It's awful, little woman
've seen dead men, and men that wer
going to die, but never a dying one tha
wanted so hard to live. Of course, hkicked clear over the traces when
proposed it, though I lied like
whitehead, and tried to make him believ
t was my scheme to help Jeffard get cureof his case of mental and moral 'jimmies
When that failed, I dug right down to hard
pan. 'You want to live, don't you?' said I
and when he admitted it, I biffed hi
square on the point of the jaw. Says I
Then it's a question of your stiff-necke
ew England pride against your love for ittle girl who would give her right hand t
see you well and strong, is it? You're no
as good a man as I thought you were.'"
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Myra was moved to protest. "Oh, Dick
do hope you haven't taken too much fo
granted! But go on; what did he say?"
"I thought he'd rise up and fall on me a
first; but he didn't. He mumbled somethin
about the 'precious balms of a frien
breaking his head,' and said I waaltogether mistaken; that Connie was onl
an angel of mercy, one of God's littl
ones, and a few other things of that sort."
"'Only'!" laughed Myra.
"Yes, 'only.' But I could see that my
shoulder-blow had knocked him out. H
switched the talk to Jeffard, and prett
soon he was asking me if I really though
he could do any good in that quarter; or i
my saying so was merely a lie cut out o
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whole cloth. I was soaked through by tha
ime, and another plunge more or les
didn't cut any figure, so I told him it wasn
a lie; that there was still hope for Jeffarf any one would lay hold of him and stic
o him. 'What kind of hope, Dick?' says he
And I said, 'The only kind that counts; th
kind that'll make him all through what hs in part.' He shook his head at that, an
said, 'I don't know. That would mea
repentance and restitution,—and th
money's got its teeth into him now.' I'l
have to admit that I was arguing dea
against the probabilities, and I knew it; bu
wouldn't let go."Myra's smile was tempered wit
affectionate pride. "You never do let go
Did he finally listen to reason?"
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"Yes, at the end of it. But if it were six
for himself and Connie, it was a goo
half-dozen for Jeffard. 'I'll go, Dick,' sai
he. 'I'm afraid your assumptions are algood-hearted wishes, but I'll go. Perhaps
f it comes to the worst, God will give m
a man for my leave-taking.' That was
new side of him, to me; the Puritan sidesn't it?"
"The human side," she amended. "It i
merely crusted a little thicker in thPuritan family."
"But it's there, all the same. Out here
where the horizons and other things arpretty wide open, we're apt to say wha
we think, and pretty much all of it; bu
Lansdale and his kind think a good bi
more and keep it to themselves. He's al
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right. I only wish his getting well were a
sure as the goodness of him. Are you
getting sleepy? Want your berth made
down?"
"Presently." Myra was gazing out at th
night-wall slipping past the car windows
and for her the thick blackness mirrored picture of a sweet-faced young woma
sitting on a denim-covered lounge, wit
her hands tight clasped over one knee an
her eyes alight with a soft starglow ocompassion. And because of the picture
she said: "I'm afraid you didn't take to
much for granted, Dick; and I could almos
wish it were otherwise. It is heartbreaking to think of it."
Dick went over to a seat beside her
and tried to put himself as nearly a
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possible at her point of view.
"Let's not try to cross their bridges fo
hem beforehand, little woman," he saidwith his lips at her ear. "Life is prett
middling full for all of us,—for us two, a
any rate."
It was five minutes later, and the train
had stopped for orders at the canyo
gateway, when she turned to him to say
"What do you think about Mr. Jeffard nowDick? Are we all mistaken? or is he th
hardened cynic he seems to be?"
Bartrow did not reply on the spur o
he moment, as was his custom. When h
had reasoned it out, he said:—
"I think we ought to break away fro
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he notion that a man has got to be eithe
all angel or all devil. Jeffard's a huma
man, like the rest of us. He's done som
good things that I know of,—and onpretty bad one; and it's the bad one that i
setting the pace for him just now. But, as
once said to Lansdale, I'm betting on th
finish. One bad curve needn't spoil whole railroad."
Myra's hand sought and found his unde
cover of her wrap. "You are loyalty itselfDick, and I can't help loving you for it. Bu
you say 'one bad one.' Have you forgotte
he Irish girl?"
Dick set his jaw at that, and the bi
hand closed firmly over the small one.
"When I have to believe that of him
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Myra, my faith in my kind will drop bac
more notches than one. That would mak
him all devil, don't you see?"
But her charity outran his. "No, Dick;
don't quite see it. It is just one more coil i
he puzzle-tangle of good and evil that yo
spoke of. Connie knows it, and if she cafind it in her heart to forgive him"—
There was reverent awe in Bartrow'
rejoinder. "Do you mean to say she'dforgive him— that ?"
The intermittent clatter and roar of th
canyon climb had begun, and in one of th
breathing spaces Myra made answer.
"She is one of God's little ones, as Mr
Lansdale said. I think she would forgiv
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him even that." And in the next gap in th
clamor, "Did you tell him about Garvin?"
Dick shook his head. "No, I didn't daro. It's a hard thing to say, but I'm not sur
he wouldn't prosecute Jim for the attemp
o kill. There's no such vindictiveness i
he world as that which dates back tbenefits forgot. But I told Lansdale, an
gave him leave to make use of it if th
ime should ever come when he could d
t without jeopardizing Garvin."
At which Myra's charity stumbled an
fell and ran no more.
"That time will never come, Dick. Mr
Jeffard has a double feud with Garvin,—
he is Garvin's debtor for benefits forgo
as you say; and he has done Garvin a
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njury. I am glad you didn't tell him."
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CHAPTER XXXI
"She's gone to her rest, at last, poo
soul, and it's happy she'd be if it wasn't fo
he childer."
Constance had been waiting through th
ong hours of the afternoon for Margaret'
return from Owen David's shanty on th
orth Side; waiting for the summons to th
death-bed of the mother of Owen David'
children. She had promised to go
wherefore her heart smote her and th
ready tears welled up at Margaret'
announcement.
"Oh, Margaret! Why didn't you com
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for me!"
"'Twas no use at all, Miss Constance
twas her last word she said to you thimorning, when she asked you to try onc
more with Owen for the childer's sake
When you'd gone she turned her face to th
wall, and we never knew when her souwent out."
"Was Owen there?"
"He was; and it's sober he was for th
first time in many a day. He took it hard
hem Welsh are flighty people, anyway."
"He ought to take it hard," saiConstance, with as near an approach t
vindictiveness as the heart of compassio
would sanction. "Has everything bee
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done?"
Margaret nodded. "The neighbors wer
hat kind; and it's poor hard-workinpeople they are, too."
"I know," said Constance. She wa
making ready to go out, and she found he
purse and counted its keepings. They wer
as scanty as her will to help wa
plenteous. Myra's check had bee
generous, but the askings were many, andhere was no more than the sweet savor o
t left. "I'm sure I don't know what Owe
will do," she went on. "I suppose ther
sn't money enough to bury her."
Margaret had taken off her hat an
acket and she was suddenly impelled t
go to work. The lounge-cover was awry
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and in the straightening of it she said:—
"Don't you be worrying about that
now, Miss Constance. It was Owehimself that was giving me the money fo
he funeral when I was leaving."
"Owen? Where did he get it? He hasn
had a day's work for a month."
Margaret was smoothing the cover an
shaking the pillows vigorously. "Sure
hat's just what I was thinking" (slap
slap), "but I've his money in my pocke
his blessed minute. So you just go and sa
a sweet word to the childer, Mis
Constance, and don't you be worryin
about anything."
Connie's hand was on the door-knob
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but she turned with a sudden sinking of th
heart, and a swift impulse that sent he
across the room to Margaret's side.
"Margaret, you gave Owen that mone
before he gave it to you. Where did yo
get it?"
Margaret left off beating the pillow
and slipped upon her knees to bury he
face in one of them.
"I knew you'd be asking that," sh
sobbed, and then: "Haven't I been workin
honest every day since Christmas? And
does it be taking all I earn to keep me, I'
ike to know?"
Constance went down on her knee
beside the girl, and what she said was t
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One who was merciful even to th
Magdalenes. When she rose the pain of i
was a little dulled, and she went back t
he charitable necessities in a word.
"Is there any one to watch with her to
night, Margaret?"
The girl lifted a tear-stained face, an
he passionate Irish eyes were swimming
and Constance turned away because he
oving compassion was greater than hedetermination to be judicially severe.
"I'm one," Margaret answered; "an
Mrs. Mulcahey'll come over when he
man gets home."
"Very well. I'll go over and give the
children their suppers and put them to bed
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'll stay till you come, and you can brin
Tommie to take me home."
Constance went upon her missioheavy-hearted; and in the hovel across th
river found comfort in the giving o
comfort. The David children were al
ittle ones, too young to fully realize theioss; and when they had been fed an
hushed to sleep, and one of David's fellow
workmen had taken the husband away fo
he night, Constance sat down in the roowith the dead to wait for Margaret. For
heart less pitiful or a soul less steadfast
he silence of the night and the solitar
watch with the sheeted figure on the bemight have been unnerving; but in all he
ife Constance had never had to recko
with fear. Hence, when the door opened
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behind her without a preliminary knock
and a footstep crossed the threshold, sh
hought it was one of the neighbors an
rose softly with her finger on her lip. Buwhen she saw who it was, she starte
back and made as if she would retreat t
he room where the children were.
"You!" she said. "Why are you here?"
"I beg your pardon." Jeffard said i
deferentially, almost humbly. "I didnexpect to find you here; I was looking fo
—for the man, you know. What ha
become of him?"
The hesitant pause in the midst of th
explanation opened the door for a swif
suspicion,—a suspicion too horrible to b
entertained, and yet too strong to be drive
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forth. There was righteous indignation i
her eyes when she went close to him an
said:—
"Can you stand here in the presence o
hat"—pointing to the sheeted figure on th
bed—"and lie to me? You expected to
meet Margaret Gannon here. You havemade an appointment with her—a
assignation in the house of the dead
Shame on you!"
It should have crushed him. It did fo
he moment. And when he rallied it wa
apparently in a spirit of the sheeres
hardihood.
"You are right," he said; "I did expec
o meet Margaret. With your permission
'll go outside and wait for her."
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She flashed between him and the doo
and put her back to it.
"Not until you have heard what I havo say, Mr. Jeffard. I've been wanting to
say it ever since Tommie told me, but you
have been very careful not to give me
chance. You know this girl's story, andwhat she has had to fight from day to day
Are you so lost to every sense of justic
and mercy as to try to drag her back int
sin and shame after all her pitifustrugglings?"
"It would seem so," Jeffard retorted
and his smile was harder than his words"It is quite conceivable that you shoul
believe it of the man who once took you
charity and made a mock of it. May I g
now?"
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"Oh, no, not yet; not until you hav
promised me to spare and slay not, for thi
once. Think of it a moment; it is the pric
of a human soul! And it is such a littlhing for you to concede."
The hard smile came and went again.
"Another man might say that Margare
has come to be very beautiful, Mis
Elliott."
The indignation was gone out of he
eyes, and her lips were trembling.
"Oh, how can you be so hard!" sh
faltered. "Will nothing move you?"
He met the beseeching with a stead
gaze that might have been the outlookin
of a spirit of calm superiority or the col
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stare of a demon of ruthlessness. The mer
suggestion of the alternative made her ho
and cold by turns.
"I wonder that you have the courage t
appeal to me," he said, at length. "Are yo
not afraid?"
"For Margaret's sake I am not afraid."
"You are very brave—and very loyal
Do you wonder that I was once moved t
ell you that I loved you?"
"How can you speak of that here—an
now!" she burst out. "Is there no measur
of the hardness of your heart? Is it noenough that you should make me beg fo
hat which I have a right to demand?"
He went apart from her at that to wal
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softly up and down in the narrow spac
between the bed and the wall,—to wal
for leaden-winged minutes that seeme
hours to Constance, waiting for hianswer. At the final turn he lifted the shee
from the face of the dead woman an
ooked long and earnestly, as one who
would let death speak where life wadumb and inarticulate. Constance watche
him with her heart in a turmoil of doub
and fear. The doubt was of her own
making, as the fear was of his. She ha
hought that this man was known to her, in
his potentialities for good or evil, in hi
stumblings upon the brink of the abyssand in his later plunge into the depths o
wrongdoing; but now that she was brough
face to face with him, her prefiguring
ook new shapes and she feared to loo
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upon them. For the potentialities ha
suddenly become superhuman, and lov
tself stood aghast at the possibilities. I
he midst of it he stood before her again.
"What is it that you would have m
do?" he asked.
The tone of it assured her that he
battle was fought and won; but at th
moment of victory she had not the strengt
o make terms with him.
"You know what you ought to do," she
said, with eyes downcast.
"The 'oughts' are sometimes terriblhard, Miss Elliott. Haven't you found the
so?"
"Sometimes." She was finding one o
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hem sufficiently hard at that moment t
compel the admission.
"But they are never impossible, yowould say, and that is true also. You
asked me a few moments ago if there wa
nothing that would move me, and I wa
empted. But that is past. Will you suffeme to go now?"
She stood aside, but her hand was stil
on the latch of the door.
"You have not promised," she said.
"Pardon me; I was hoping you woul
spare me. The cup is of my own mixingbut the lees are bitter. Must I drain them?"
"I—I don't understand," she rejoined.
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"Don't you? Consider it a moment. You
have taken it for granted that I had it in m
heart to do this thing, and, knowing wha
you do of me, the inference is just. But have not admitted it, and I had hoped yo
would spare me the admission which
promise would imply. Won't you leave me
his poor shadow of refutation?"
She opened the door for him.
"Thank you; it is much more than deserve. Since you do not ask it, you shal
have the assurance,—the best I can give.
shall leave Denver in a day or two, an
you may take your own measures fosafeguarding Margaret in the interva
Perhaps it won't be as difficult as you ma
magine. If I have read her aright you ma
ask large things of her loyalty an
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devotion to you."
The battle was over, and she had but to
hold her peace to be quit of him. Buhaving won her cause it was not in th
oving heart of her to let him g
unrecompensed.
"You are going away? Then we may
not meet again. I gave you bitter words
few minutes ago, Mr. Jeffard, but
believed they were true. Won't you denyhem—if you can?"
His foot was across the threshold, bu
he turned to smile down upon her.
"You are a true woman. You said I lied
o you, and now you ask me to deny it
knowing well enough that the denial wil
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afterward stand for another falsehood.
know what you think of me,—what yo
are bound to think of me; but isn't i
conceivable that I would rather quenchat fire than add fuel to it?"
"But you are going away," she insisted
"And since we may never meet again
you crave the poor comfort of a denia
You shall have it for what it is worth
When you are inclined to think charitablof me, go back to first principles an
remember that the worst of men hav
sometimes had promptings which were no
altogether unworthy. Let the majoaccusation stand, if you choose; I did hav
an appointment here with Margare
Gannon. But when your faith in humankin
needs heartening, conceive that for thi
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once the tryst was one which any woma
might have kept with me. Believe, if yo
care to, that my business here this evenin
was really with this poor fellow whossins have found him out. Would you like t
be able to believe that?"
For the first time since doubt and feahad gotten the better of indignation sh
was able to lift her eyes to his.
"I will believe it," she said gratefully.
He smiled again, and she was n
onger afraid. Now that she came to thin
of it, she wondered if she had ever bee
really afraid of him.
"Your faith is very beautiful, Mis
Elliott. I am glad to be able to give i
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something better than a bare suggestion t
build on. Will you give this to Margare
when she comes?"
It was a folded paper, with a printed
itle and indorsement blanks on the back
She took it and glanced at the filing. It wa
he deed to a burial lot in the name oOwen David.
"Oh!" she said; and there was a worl
of contrition and self-reproach in thsingle word. "Can you ever forgive me
Mr. Jeffard?"
As once before, when Lansdale ha
proffered it, Jeffard pushed aside the cu
of reinstatement.
"Don't take too much for granted
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Remember, the indictment still stands
Margaret Gannon's tempter might hav
done this and still merit your detestation."
And at the word she was once mor
alone with the still figure on the bed.
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CHAPTER XXXII
For what reason Constance, left alon
n the house of the dead, went softly fro
he lighted room to kneel at the bedside o
he sleeping children in the lean-to beyon
—to kneel with her face in her hands an
her heart swelling with emotions too grea
for any outlet save that of sorrowfubeseechings,—let those adjudge who hav
passed in some crucial moment from los
o gain, and back to loss again. There wa
a pitiful heart cry in the prayer for helpbecause she knew now that love, might
and unreasoning, must be reckoned with i
every future thought of this man; lov
heedless of consequences, clinging first t
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an imagined ideal, and now to th
sorrowful wreck of that ideal; love lashe
nto being, it may be, by the very whip o
shame, acknowledged only to be chaineand dungeoned in the Castle of Despair
but alive and pleading, and promising ye
o live and plead though hope were dead.
It was thus that Margaret found her a
hour later; and in the darkness of the littl
room the true-hearted Irish girl knel
beside her saint, with her strong armaround the weeping one, and a sob o
precious sympathy in the outpouring o
words.
"There now—there now, Mis
Constance! is it kneeling here and cryin
for these poor left ones that you are? Sur
t's the Holy Virgin herself that'll b
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mothering them, and the likes of them. And
Owen'll be doing his part, too. It's
changed man he is."
Constance shook her head. She was to
sincere to let the lesser reason stand fo
he greater, even with Margaret.
"I do grieve for them, Margaret; but—
but it isn't that."
"It isn't that, do you say? Then I know
full well what it is, and it's the truth I'
going to tell you, Miss Constance, for al
he promisings he made me give him. 'Ti
Mr. Jeffard's money that's to go for th
funeral, and it was him left it with me t
give to Owen. He told me you'd not take i
from him, and 'twas his own free gif
Ever since he came back he's been givin
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me money for the poor ones, and makin
me swear never to tell you; but it was fo
your sweet sake, Miss Connie, and not fo
mine. I'd want to die if you didn't believhat."
"Oh, Margaret! are you telling me th
ruth? I do so want to believe it!"
Margaret rose and drew her confesso
o the half-open door; to the bedside of th
sheeted one.
"A little while ago she was alive and
alking to you, Miss Constance, and yo
believed her because you knew she wa
going fast. If I'd be like that, I'd tell yo
he same."
"I believe you, Margaret—I do believ
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you; and, oh, I'm so thankful! It woul
break my heart to have you go back now!"
"Don't you be worrying for me. Didn't say once that the devil might fly away wit
me, but I'd not live to leave him have th
good of it? When that time comes, Mis
Constance, it's another dead woman you'lbe crying over. And now you'll go home
and take your rest; the good old father i
waiting on the doorstep for you."
Even with his daughter, Stephen Elliot
was the most reticent of men; and on th
ittle journey up the river front and acros
he viaduct he plodded along in silencbeside her, waiting for her to speak if sh
had anything to say. Constance had a hear
full to overflowing, but not of the thing
which lend themselves to speech with an
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father; and when she broke the silence i
was in self-defense, and on the side of th
commonplace.
"Have you decided yet where you wil
go?" she asked, knowing that th
arrangements for the prospecting trip wer
all but completed.
"N—no, not exactly. Except that
never have gone with the rush, and I don
mean to this time. There's some prettpromising country around up back o
Dick's mountain, and I've been thinking o
hat."
"I wish you would go into the Bonanz
district," she said. "If I'm to stay with Dic
and Myra, it will be a comfort to know
hat you are not very far away."
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The old man plodded another squar
before he succeeded in casting his though
nto words.
"I was wondering if that wasn't th
reason why I want to go there. I'm no
etting on to anybody about it, but I'
getting sort of old and trembly, Connieand you're about all I have left."
She slipped her arm an inch or tw
farther through his. "Must it be, poppaCan't we get along without it? I'll be gla
o live like the poorest of them, if we ca
only be together."
"I know; you're a good daughter to me
Connie, and you'd go into the hospital o
Dr. Gordon's offer to-morrow, if I'd say
he word. But I think the last strike I mad
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rather spoiled me. I got sort of used to th
flesh-pots, and I haven't got over feelin
for my check-book yet. I guess I'll have t
ry it once more before we go on thcounty."
She would have said more had ther
been more to say. But her arguments hadall been exhausted when the prospectin
fever had set in, and she could only sen
him forth with words of heartening and
brave God-speed.
"I'm not going to put things in the way,
she said; "but I'd go with you and help dig
f you'd let me. The next best thing will bo have you somewhere within reach, an
shall be comforted if you can manage t
keep Topeka Mountain in sight. But you
won't."
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"Yes, I will, daughter; the string pull
about as hard at my end as it does a
yours, and I'll tell you what I'll do. Th
gulches that I had in mind are all up at thhead of Myriad Creek, and I'll ship th
stake' to Dick, and make the Myriad a sor
of outfitting camp. How will that strik
you?"
"That will be fine," she said; adding, i
an upflash of the old gayety: "and whe
you've located your claim, Myra and will come and turn the windlass for you."
They were climbing the stairs to th
darkened suite on the third floor, and ahe door Constance found a telegrap
messenger trying to pin a non-deliver
notice to the panel. She signed his blan
by the hall light, and read the messag
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while her father was unlocking the doo
and lighting the lamp.
"It is from Myra," she explained; "ant's good news and bad. Do you remembe
what Dick was telling us the other evenin
about his drunken blacksmith?"
"The fellow that went into the blast
choke after the dead man?"
"Yes. He is down with mountain fever
and Myra says nothing but good nursin
will save him. Dick has got his story ou
of him at last; he is Margaret Gannon'
father."
"Humph! what a little world this is!
suppose you will send Margaret righ
away?"
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"I shall go with her to-morrow
morning. I'll tell Dick what you are goin
o do, and you can come when you ar
ready."
The old man nodded acquiescence
"It'll be better for you to go along; she'l
be all broke up. Want me to go and wireDick?"
"If you will. I should have asked th
boy to wait, but he was gone before I haopened the envelope. Tell Dick to keep
him alive at any cost, and that we'll b
here to-morrow evening."
When her father was gone, Constanc
sat down to piece out the discoveries
comforting and harrowing, of the foregon
hour, and to set them over against eac
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other in a field which was as yet too nea
o be retrospective. She tried to stan
aside for herself, and to see and conside
only those to whom her heart went out ioving compassion and sympathy; but i
was inevitable that she should finall
come to a re-reading of the letter take
from its hiding-place in the photograpframe. She dwelt upon it with a soft flus
spreading slowly from neck to cheek
reading it twice and yet once again befor
she laid it in the little wall-pocket of
grate and touched a match to it.
"For his sake and for mine," she sai
softly, as she watched it shrivel andblacken in the flame. "That is what I mus
do—burn my ships so that I can't go back.
The charred wraith of the letter wen
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up the chimney in the expiring gasp of th
flame, and there was the sound of
familiar step in the corridor. She wen
quickly to open the door for the latvisitor. It was Lansdale, come to say wha
must be said on the eve of parting, and t
ask for his answer to a conditional ple
made in a moment when the consumptive'optimism had carried him off his feet.
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CHAPTER XXXIII
The periods of the scene-shifter, in lif
as in life's mimicking on any stage, hav
fallen into disesteem. In any flight of fanc
or plodding journey of fact these are fla
countries to be traversed; interregnum
which, however replete with incident fo
he actors themselves, are deemed alikunworthy of the playwright's outworkin
or the chronicler's recording. To the
audience waiting beyond the footlight
hese are mere breathing spaces of musichastened minutes standing for whateve
apses of days, weeks or months the stor
of the play involves; but for the scene
shifter they are gaps toil-filled, with fierc
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strivings and wrestlings and dought
compellings of the animate and inanimat
perversities.
None the less, for the toiler behind th
scenes there are compensations, for th
audience, the entr'acte is a solution o
continuity, more or less skillfully bridgedaccording to the playwright's gift; but th
worker of transformations knows no brea
n the action. For him the story of the pla
s complete, marching evenly to its climahrough spoken line and drop-curtaine
nterregnum.
The curtain has rung down upon anterior in an apartment house. It is to ris
upon a flashlight picture of a summer nigh
scene in a mountain-girt valley. The wall
of the homelike interior vanish, and i
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heir stead dim reaches of the forest-cla
mountains suggest themselves. A stream
umbles over the boulders in its bed with
hollow roar hinting at canyoned plungingabove; and on the margin of it a quakin
aspen blinks its many-lidded eyes in th
ight of a camp fire.
Against the pillared background o
forest, primeval firs whose sombre green
become murky black in the firelight,
campers' wagon is drawn up; and thpicket pins of the grazing horses ar
driven in a grass grown extension of th
glade to the right. There is a silke
whisper abroad in the night, rising anfalling upon the sound waves of th
umbling stream: the voices of the trees a
hey call to each other in the night win
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pouring softly down from the sky-pitche
peaks.
The scene is set and the actors are iheir places. They are two men clad i
flannel shirts and brown duck overalls an
shooting-coats. One of them is bearde
and bronzed, with the well-knit figure oconscious strength. The other is of slighte
frame, and on his clean-shaven face th
prolonged holiday in the open is but now
beginning to impress the stamp oreturning health and vigor. The bearded
man is on his back beside the fire, with hi
clasped hands for a pillow and an extinc
pipe between his teeth. The clean-shaveone is propped against the bole of a tree
his eyes are closed, and his pipe ha
slipped from his fingers.
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A brand falls into the glowing mass o
embers, and the sparks fly upward in
crackling shower. It is the prompter's call
bell. The man reclining at the tree-fooopens his eyes, and the bearded one sit
up and feels mechanically for the tobacc
pouch.
"Here it is," says Lansdale. "I was jus
about to fill up again when the realitie
slipped away. It's astonishing how one ca
sleep overtime in these upper levels."
The athletic one rises and stretches til
his joints crack. "Been asleep, have you
So have I. There's no opiate in the worlike a day's tramping in the altitudes
Freshen you up any?"
"As to body, yes. But I've had a curiou
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dream—if it were a dream." Silenc
while the sob of the river rises and fall
on the night wind, and then a half-hesitan
query. "Jeffard, do you believe ipresentiments?"
The bearded one is on his knees befor
he fire, pressing a live coal into the bowof his pipe, and the answer is delayed.
"I don't know whether I do or not;
have never had one."
"But you have known of others havin
hem, haven't you?"
"Of one other: but in that instance iwas foreknowledge rather than
foreboding. The presentiment should hav
been mine; and I had none."
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"Would you mind telling me about it?"
"No. It was while I was making th
survey for a logging railway in Quebec. expected to be out all summer, but in th
middle of it the company called a halt an
went home. I hadn't wired or written, bu
when I reached Hinsdale my father was ahe station to meet me. For three days m
mother had been insisting that I woul
come, and to quiet her they had bee
meeting the trains. She died the nexevening."
"And you had no premonition?"
"None whatever. For a month or more
had been beyond the reach of the mails
and I had left her in her usual health. I
was a bolt out of a clear sky."
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Again the brawling stream and th
whispering leaves fill the gap of silence
and as before, Lansdale is the first t
speak.
"I have always scouted such things, a
sanity seems to demand. Stories with an
element of the supernatural in them havnever appealed to me because, howeve
well authenticated, they were alway
stories, and never actual happenings i
which I had any part. But for the last daor two I've had a growing sense o
mpending calamity, and I can't shake i
off."
There is the brusquerie of heartening i
Jeffard's rejoinder.
"Nonsense! It's only the imaginativ
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part of you kicking against the pricks of
ongish holiday."
"That is ingenious, but I can't quitaccept it. I've eaten and slept with th
maginative fiend long enough to be prett
well acquainted with his vagaries. This i
altogether different. It is precisely thfeeling you have had just before a storm;
sense of depression as intangible a
darkness, but quite as real. It was with m
a few minutes ago when I fell asleep, anhe dream seemed to be a part of it."
"Oh, dreams," says the scoffer; "
hought they had been accounted for by thdietists. I told you that last batch o
panbread held possibilities. But go on an
unload your dream. I'm shudder-proof."
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Lansdale tells it circumstantially
keeping his pipe alight in the periods.
"It didn't seem like a dream; at leastnot in the beginning of it. I was sitting her
ust as I am now, and you were on you
back over there, with the pipe in you
mouth. The surroundings were the sameexcept that the fire was burning low.
remember thinking that you must hav
fallen asleep, and wondering why the pip
didn't fall and wake you. After a time throar of the stream seemed to quiet down
and I heard the clink of horseshoes upo
stone. The sound came from across th
stream, and as I looked I saw a trail and horseman coming down it. It was all s
real that I wondered why I hadn't notice
he trail before. The man rode down to th
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water's edge and made as if he woul
cross. I saw him quite distinctly, and
hought it curious, because the fire was to
ow to give much light. He merely glanceat the stream, and then turned his horse'
head and rode down the opposite bank. H
passed out of sight among the trees, and
moment later I heard the horse's hoofagain, this time as if he were on a bridg
of poles."
Jeffard has been listening witattention no more than decently alert, bu
at this point he breaks in to say: "You've
been walking in your sleep. Go on."
"It was just here that the supernatura
came in. I told you that the man had passe
out of sight, but all at once I seemed to se
him again. He was on a corduroy bridg
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crossing the stream, and I saw plainl
what he did not,—that the bridge wa
unsafe, and that a step or two woul
plunge him into the torrent. I donremember what followed, save that I trie
o call out, first to him and then to you; bu
my voice seemed to be swallowed up i
he thunder of the water. There was a littlgap filled with fierce strugglings, and the
seemed to be here again, lying by th
wagon with a blanket over me; and yo
were walking up and down with anothe
man,—a stranger. That is all; except that
ried to tell you that you were wet throug
and would take cold,—tried and couldn'tand awoke."
Jeffard has risen to put another log o
he fire.
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"It's the panbread," he says, with th
air of one who sweeps the board for
resetting of the pieces. But after a little h
adds: "I was wondering how you came tknow about the bridge. That is the onl
unaccountable twist in it."
"Is there a bridge?"
"Yes; it's just below that farther clump
of aspens. But there is nothing the matte
with it that I could see. I noticed it while was picketing the horses."
"And is there a trail on the other sid
of the stream?"
"There is. There used to be a ford jus
here, but it was dangerous, and we buil
he bridge."
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"Then you have been here before?"
"Yes, many times. I spent the bette
half of a summer and all of one winter ihis valley. The Midas is just below here
meant to surprise you to-morrow
morning."
Lansdale's gaze is in the heart of th
fire and his voice is low. "Do you know
Henry, I'm rather glad you didn't wait
Don't ask me why, because I can't tell youn terms divisible by the realities. Bu
somehow the to-morrows don't seem to b
assured."
"Oh, pshaw! that's your dream—an
he panbread its father. If you had talked
hat way a month ago, when you wer
really living from hand to mouth"—
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Lansdale spreads his hands palm
down and looks at them.
"You promised me a new lease of lifeHenry, and you've given it me,—or the ke
o it. I didn't believe it could be done, an
my chief trouble in those first days wa
he thought that you'd have to bury malone. And when we camped in
particularly rocky spot, I used to wonde
how you would manage it."
Jeffard's smile is of grimness. "If yo
had mentioned it, I could have helped yo
off with that burden. These mountains ar
full of graves, ready-made; prospecholes, where the better part of many a ma
ies buried. Do you see that heap of eart
and stone over yonder?"
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Lansdale shades his eyes from th
firelight and looks and sees.
"That is one of them. Just behind thaheap there is a shaft with a windlas
across it, and for six weeks two me
worked early and late digging a hole,—
which turned out to be an excellent welwhen the water came in and stoppe
hem."
"And the water was bitter," sayLansdale. "Did you drink of it, Henry?"
"No; but the other man did, and he wen
mad."
Once more the stream and the sighin
night wind share the silence. For man
days Lansdale has been assuring himsel
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hat the golden moment for speech of th
helpful sort must ultimately be made an
not waited for. In the hour when he had
consented to Bartrow's urgings he habeen given to see his opportunity and ha
determined to grasp it,—had made th
determination the excuse for sharin
Jeffard's hospitality. He can look bacupon that resolve now and see that it wa
perfunctory; that the prompting had bee
of duty and not at all of love for the man
But the weeks of close companionship
have wrought more miracles than one, an
not the least among them is a grea
amazement builded upon the daily renewaof Jeffard's loving-kindnesses. For th
man with the world-quarrel has been
brother indeed; nurse, physician, kinsman
and succoring friend; with the world
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quarrel put aside from the moment o
outsetting, and with apparently no objec
n life less worthy than that of fighting
vicarious battle for a sick man. Thsummary of it is humanizing, and the las
upholdings of the crust of reserve brea
down in the warmth of it.
"May I speak as the spirit moves
Henry?"
"If you think I deserve it. Why shouldnyou?"
"It is a question of obligations rathe
han of deservings,—my obligations. N
brother of my own blood could have don
more for me than you have."
"And you want to even it up?"
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"No; but I want to tell you while I ma
hat it has come very near to me in thes
ast few days. At first I was inclined to
make another query of it, and to speculatas to your probable motive; but latterl
've come to call it by its right name."
Jeffard shakes his head slowly, andremoves his pipe to say: "Don't make an
more mistakes, Lansdale. I'm neithe
better nor worse than I was that nigh
when I told you the story of the man anhis temptation. I know what you mean an
what you would say; but this experimen
and its results—the twenty odd pounds o
flesh you have put on, and the new leasof life they stand for—mean more to m
han they do to you."
"I don't begin to understand the drift o
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hat," says Lansdale.
"No? I wonder if you woul
understand and believe if I should tell yohe truth; if I should confess that m
motive, so far as you are concerned, i
entirely selfish?"
"Since understanding implies belief,
shall have to say no to that. But you migh
ry,—for your own satisfaction."
"It's altogether unprofitable; bu
perhaps it's your due. I'll have to go bac
a little to make it clear. In the old days w
were pretty good friends, but I think yo
will admit that there have always bee
reservations. You haven't known me and
haven't known you as friends of the Davi
and Jonathan sort know each other. Isn
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hat so?"
Lansdale is constrained to say "Yes,
wishing it were otherwise.Jeffard refills his pipe and fishes fo
another live coal in the fire-fringe. The g
r-r-rh of the grazing horses comes fro
he near-by glade, and again the silenc
begins to grow. Suddenly he says: "Let'
drop it, Lansdale, and talk abou
something else."
"No, go on; nothing you can say wil
efface the brotherly fact."
"Very well,—if you will have it. Yousaid you were inclined to question m
motive. It was more than questionable; i
was frankly selfish."
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"Selfish? You'll have to spell it ou
arge for me. From my point of view i
seems rather the other way about. Wha
had you to gain by saddling yourself withe care of a sick man?"
"I can't put it in words—not withou
aying myself open to the charge oplaying to the gallery. But let me state
fact and ask a question. A year ago you
hought it was all up with you, and yo
didn't seem to care much. A few monthater I found you fighting for your life lik
a shipwrecked sailor with land in sight
What did it?"
That the lava-crust of reserve i
altogether molten is evinced in Lansdale'
straightforward reply.
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"Love,—love for a woman. I think yo
must have known that."
"I did. That was why you were makinhe desperate fight for life; and that is wh
we are here to-night, you and I. I love th
woman, too."
Lansdale shakes his head slowly, and
an ineffable smile is Jeffard's reward.
"And yet you call it selfishness, Henry
Man, man! you have deliberately gon
about to save my life when another migh
have taken it!"
"I shall reap where I have sown," sayJeffard steadily. "Latterly I have bee
iving for one day,—the day when I ca
ake you back to her in the good hope tha
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she will forget what has been for the sak
of what I have tried to make possible."
Once more Lansdale's gaze is in thglowing heart of the fire, and the light i
his eyes is prophetic.
"Verily, you shall reap, Henry; but no
n a field where you have sown. Don't as
me how I know. That's my secret. But ou
of all this will come a thing not to b
measured by your prefigurings. You shalhave your reward; but I crave mine, too
Will you give it me?"
"If it be mine to give."
"It is. Do justice and love mercy
Henry. That is the thing I've been trying to
find words to say to you all these weeks."
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Jeffard lays the pipe aside and does no
pretend to misunderstand.
"Tell me what you would like to haveme do."
"I think you must know: find the ma
who drank of the bitter waters and wen
mad, and give him back that which yo
have taken from him."
"Isn't there a possibility that I can d
neither?"
"I can help you to do the first,—and fo
he other I can only plead. I know wha
you would say: that the man had forfeitehis right; that he tried to kill you; that b
all the laws of man's inventing this mone
s yours. But God's right and your debt t
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your own manhood are above all these. A
your poor debtor, I'm privileged to as
arge things of you; can't you break th
eeth of it and shake yourself free of thmoney-dragon?"
Jeffard is afoot, tramping a monotonou
sentry beat between the wagon and thfire. His rejoinder is a question.
"Do you know where James Garvin i
o be found?"
"I don't, but Bartrow does."
"Why didn't he tell me?"
"Because Dick is merciful. The man i
a criminal, and you could send him to th
penitentiary."
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"And Dick thought—and you hav
hought—that I would prosecute him. I
was the natural inference, I suppose,—
from your point of view. The man whowould rob his partner wouldn't stumbl
over a little thing like that. Will it help
you to sleep the sounder if I say tha
vengeance isn't in me?—wasn't in me even the white heat of it?"
Lansdale nods assent. "I'm on th
asking hand, and any concession igrateful. If you were vindictive about it
'm afraid the major contention would b
hopeless."
"But as it is you do not despair?"
"I am very far from despairing, Henry
You spoke lightly of our friendship a little
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while ago, and one time I should hav
agreed with you. But I know you bette
now, and the incredibility of this thing tha
you have done has been growing upon met's the one misshapen column in a fai
emple. Won't you pull it down and set up
another in its place,—a clean-cut pillar o
uprightness, which will harmonize withe others?"
Jeffard stops short at the tree-bole
with his hand on Lansdale's shoulder.
"It has taken me five weeks to find ou
why you consented to come afield wit
me," he says. "It was to say this, wasnt?"
"Just that," says Lansdale, and hi
voice is the voice of one pleading as
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mother pleads. "Say you will do it, Henry
f not for your own sake or mine, for th
sake of that which has brought us togethe
here."
Jeffard has turned away again, but h
comes back at that to stand befor
Garvin's advocate.
"It is a small thing you have asked
Lansdale," he says, after a time; "muc
smaller than you think. The pillar isnaltogether as crooked as it looks; there i
something in the perspective. You know
how the old Greek builders used to set th
corner column out of the perpendicular tmake it appear plumb. We don't always d
hat; sometimes we can't do it withou
bringing the whole structure down abou
our ears. But in this case your critical ey
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shall be satisfied. We'll go down to the
mine in the morning and use Denby's wire
f Bartrow can find Garvin, you shall se
how easily the dragon's teeth may bbroken. Is that what you wanted me t
say?"
Lansdale's answer is a quotation.
"'And it came to pass, when he ha
made an end of speaking ... that the soul o
Jonathan was knit with the soul of Davidand Jonathan loved him as his own soul
've seen my reward and felt of it; an
yours will come a little later,—in a wa
you little dream of. Pass the tobacco, anet's have another whiff or two before w
urn in. I'm too acutely thankful to b
sleepy."
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For a peaceful half-hour they sit befor
he glowing embers, smoking placidl
while their talk drifts hither and yon ove
he spent sea of boyhood and youth. It is heartening half-hour, and at the end of i
Jeffard rises to get the blankets from th
wagon. Lansdale elects to sleep at hi
ree-root, and he is rolling himself in hiblanket when Jeffard says:
"How about the presentiment? Hav
we tired it out?"
Lansdale laughs softly. "It's gone," h
says. "Perhaps it was nothing more than a
upheaval of conscience. I'm subject to thawhen I've anything on my mind. Good
night, and God bless you, Henry."
And so the curtain goes down upon th
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summer night scene in the mountain-gir
valley, with the two men sleepin
peacefully before the fire, and the star
shining softly in the patch of velvety skoverhead. The midnight ebb of the snow
fed stream has set in, and the throbbin
roll of the water drum is muffled. The fir
burns low. The whispering leaves arstilled, and the wind slipping down fro
he snow coifs, sinks to a sigh. Th
pinions of the night are folded, an
darkness and murmurous silence wrap th
mantle of invisibility around the camp i
he glade.
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CHAPTER XXXIV
It is the gray dawn that lifts the curtain
and in the little glade where the two me
slept there are three figures, dim an
ghostly in the morning's twilight. Two o
hem are afoot, heavy-eyed and weary
ramping a slow-paced beat on the margi
of the tumbling stream. The third is a stilshape lying blanket-covered beside th
wagon.
"Tell me about it, Denby," says one o
he watchers, and his voice breaks in th
saying of it. "I think I can bear it now
How did it happen?"
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The master of men shakes his head. "
can't tell you anything more than the bal
fact, Jeffard. I rode down the trail ahea
of Higgins, and should have forded thcreek here, only I didn't want to distur
you two. I went on to the bridge, and in th
act of crossing he ran down the bank o
his side, calling to me to go back. It waoo late. I had barely time to get free of th
stirrups when we were into it,—the two o
us and the horse. It isn't more than three o
four feet deep, as you know, but I knew i
meant death if we went into the mill tai
below. I lost my grip and was gone whe
he grappled me. I don't know yet how hcame to save my life and lose his own."
"It was to be," says Jeffard, brokenly
"When I reached you he was holding yo
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up with one hand and clinging to th
bridge stringer with the other. His weigh
and yours with the rush of the water ha
pushed the timber down, and his head waunder."
Two other turns they make, and then
Jeffard says, with awe in his voice, "Hknew about it beforehand, Denby," and h
ells Lansdale's dream.
Denby hears him through withounterrupting, but at the end of it he says
gently: "It wasn't a dream. Higgins wa
overdue with the team from Aspen, and
went out to see what had become of him. passed here on my way up the trail abou
nine o'clock, and you were both asleep
hen. I had crossed by the lower ford an
found it pretty bad, so I turned back fro
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here and rode down to see if the bridg
was all right. He saw me and heard me."
Jeffard's gesture is of unconvincement."That accounts for part of it," he says
"but I shall always believe he foresaw hi
death and the manner of it."
After that they pace up and down i
silence again, treading out the sorrowfu
watch until daylight is fully come
bringing with it a team from the mine an
men to do what remains to be done. Th
wo stand apart until the men have don
heir office, falling in to walk softl
behind the wagon on the short journe
down the valley to the mine settlement. O
he way, Jeffard accounts for himsel
briefly.
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"He was one of the two best friends
had in the world," he says. "I had him ou
on a camping holiday for his health, an
he was gaining day by day. We werecounting upon dropping in on you thi
morning, and now"—
"I know," says the master. "He gave hiife for mine, and it gets pretty near to me
oo." And thereafter they keep step wit
heads bowed and eyes downcast, as thos
n whom sorrow has murdered speechand the bellowing stream at the trail-sid
hunders a requiem for its victim.
The setting sun is crimsoning theastern snow caps while they are buryin
him on the plateau above the min
settlement. An hour later, the master o
men and the master of the mine are me
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ogether in the log cabin opposite the grea
gray dump; in the cabin builded b
Garvin, but which now serves as th
office of the superintendent of the MidasSorrow still sits between, and Denb
would give place to it.
"Put it off till to-morrow, Jeffard," hsays. "Neither of us is fit to talk busines
o-night."
"No, it mustn't be put off. I gave himy promise, and I mean to make it goo
while time serves. Have you any one her
who is competent to witness a lega
document?"
"Yes; Halsey is a notary public."
"Good. Sit down at that desk and draw
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up a writing transferring my interest in th
Midas to Stephen Elliott and Richar
Bartrow, trustees."
"What's that? Trustees for whom?"
"For James Garvin."
The master of men leans back in hichair, his eyes narrowing and the littl
frown of perplexity radiating fan-lik
above them.
"Jeffard, do you mean to say that yo
are going to step aside in favor of the ma
who tried to kill you?"
"You may put it that way, if you
choose. It would have been done long ag
f I had been able to find the man."
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"And you stepped into the breach
year ago and secured his property for hi
because he had put himself out of th
running and couldn't? You've touched meon the raw, Jeffard. It's my business to
size people up, and you have fairl
outflanked me. A blind man might have
seen the drift of it, but I didn't; I thoughyou had robbed him. Why didn't you giv
t a name?"
"I had no thought of concealment untiyou warned me. Garvin was a criminal i
he eye of the law, and the least I could do
for him was to turn the tide of publi
opinion in his favor."
"Well, you did it; but just the same, you
might have passed the word to me. I
wouldn't have gone any farther, and
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should have felt a good bit easier in m
mind."
"Perhaps; but you will pardon me if say that I wasn't considering you in th
matter. I knew better than to defeat m
own end. If I had told you the truth at th
ime, you would not have believed it; yowould have struck hands with your ow
heory that Garvin had attempted to rob
me, and you would have talked and acte
accordingly."
"What makes you say I wouldn't hav
believed the truth?"
"It would have been merely
declaration of intention at the time, an
you would have said that it didn't squar
with human nature as you know i
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Bartrow knew, and he went over to th
majority. But that is neither here nor there
Will you draw up the writing?"
Denby goes to the desk and writes ou
he transfer, following Jeffard's dictation
When it is signed and acknowledged
Jeffard slips his final anchor.
"I presume you will want to make
new operating contract with the trustees
or with Garvin, and in that case you wilwant to cancel the old one. I haven't m
copy of it with me, but I'll mail it to yo
when I get back to Denver."
Denby is making a pretense o
rummaging in the pigeonholes of the des
o cover a small struggle which ha
nothing to do with the superintendent'
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files. When the struggle is fought to
finish, he turns suddenly and holds out hi
hand.
"Jeffard, that night when we wrangle
t out up yonder on the old dump I sai
some things that I shouldn't have said i
you had seen fit to be a little franker witme. Will you forget them?"
Jeffard takes the proffered hand an
wrings it gratefully. "Thank you for thatDenby," he says; "it's timely. I feel as if I'
ike to drop out and turn up on some othe
planet. This thing has cost me pretty dear
one way with another."
"It'll come out all right in the end,
asserts the master; and then: "But yo
mustn't forget that the cost of it is partly o
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your own incurring. It's a rare failing, bu
here is such a thing as being too close
mouthed. You've made out your case, afte
a fashion, and I'm not going to appeal itbut your postulate was wrong. Huma
nature is not as incredulous of goo
ntentions as the cynics would make it ou
o be. You might have told a few of uwithout imperilling Garvin."
"I meant to do it; as I say, I did tel
Bartrow that morning when I raced Garviacross the range and into Aspen. But h
and every one else drew the othe
conclusion, and I was too stubborn t
plead my own cause. The stubbornnesbecame a mania with me after a time, an
had a fit of it no longer ago than las
night. I let Lansdale die believing that h
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had argued me into promising to mak
restitution. We were coming down here
o-day to set the thing in train, and, o
course, he would have learned the wholruth; but for one night—"
"For one night you would let him hav
he comfort of believing that he habrought it about," says Denby, quickly
"That wasn't what you were going to say
but it's the truth, and you know it. I know
he feel of it; you've reached the poinwhere you can get some sort of comfor
out of holding your finger in the fire
Suppose you begin right here and now t
ake a little saner view of things. What aryour plans?"
"I haven't any."
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"Are you open to an offer?"
"From you?—yes."
"Good. I'm unlucky enough to havsome mining property in Mexico, and I'v
got to go down there and set it in order, o
send some one to do it for me. Will you
go?"
Jeffard's reply is promptly acquiescent
"Gladly; if you think I am competent."
"I don't think,—I know. Can you start a
short notice?"
"The sooner the better. I said I should
ike to drop out and turn up on some othe
planet: that will be the next thing to it."
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From that the talk goes overland to th
affairs of a century-old silver mine in th
Chihuahuan mountains, and at the end of i
Jeffard knows what is to be done and howhe is to go about the doing of it. Denb
yawns and looks at his watch.
"It's bedtime," he says. "Shall wconsider it settled and go over to the bunk
shack?"
"I have a letter to write," says Jeffard"Don't wait for me."
"All right. You'll find what you need in
he desk,—top drawer on the right. Com
over when you get ready," and th
promoter leaves his late owner i
possession of the superintendent's office.
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Judging from the number of false start
and torn sheets, the writing of the lette
proves to be no easy matter; but it i
begun, continued, and ended at length, anJeffard sits back to read it over.
"My dear Bartrow:
"When this reaches you, you will
have had my telegram of to-day
telling you all there is to tell about
Lansdale's death. You must forgiveme if I don't repeat myself here. It is
too new a wound—and too deep—to
bear probing, even with a pen.
"What I have to say in this letter
will probably surprise you. Last
night, in our last talk together,
Lansdale told me that you know
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Garvin's whereabouts. Acting upon
that information, I have to-night
executed a transfer of the Midas to
yourself and Stephen Elliott, trusteesfor Garvin. By agreement with
Denby, I cancel my working contract
with him, and you, or Garvin, can
make another for the unexpired portion of the year on the same terms,
—which is Denby's due. You will
find the accrued earnings of the mine
from the day of my first settlement
with Denby deposited in the Denver
bank in an account which I opened
some months ago in the names of yourself and Elliott, trustees. Out of
the earnings I have withheld my
wages as a workman in the mine last
winter, and a moderate charge for
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caretaking since.
"That is all I have to say, I think,
unless I add that you are partlyresponsible for the delay in Garvin's
reinstatement. If you had trusted me
sufficiently to tell me what you told
Lansdale, it would have saved timeand money, inasmuch as I have
spared neither in the effort to trace
Garvin. I told you the truth that
morning in Leadville, but it seemsthat your loyalty wasn't quite equal to
the strain put upon it by public rumor.
I don't blame you greatly. I know I
had done what a man may to forfeitthe respect of his friends. But I made
the mistake of taking it for granted
that you and Lansdale, and possibly
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one other, would still give me credit
for common honesty, and when I
found that you didn't it made me
bitter, and I'll be frank enough to saythat I haven't gotten over it yet."
The letter pauses with the little outflas
of resentment, and he takes the pen to sigt. But in the act he adds anothe
paragraph.
"That is putting it rather harshly,and just now I'm not in the mood to
quarrel with any one; and least of all
with you. I am going away to be gone
indefinitely, and I don't want to give
you a buffet by way of leave-taking.
But the fact remains. If you can admit
it and still believe that the old-time
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friendship is yet alive in me, I wish
you would. And if you dare take
word from me to Miss Elliott, I'd be
glad if you would say to her that mysorrow for what has happened is
second only to hers."
The letter is signed, sealed, anaddressed, and he drops it into the mail
box. The lamp is flaring in the night win
sifting in through the loosened chinking
and he extinguishes it and goes out tramp himself weary in the little cleare
space which had once been Garvin'
dooryard. It is a year and a day since h
wore out the midwatch of that othe
summer night on the eve of the forthfarin
from the valley of dry bones, and h
recalls it and the impassioned outburs
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which went to the ending of it. Again h
urns his face toward the far-away city o
he plain, but this time his eyes are di
when the reiterant thought slips intspeech. "God help me!" he says. "How
can I ever go to her and tell her that I hav
failed!"
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CHAPTER XXXV
The news of Lansdale's death cam
with the shock of the unexpected to th
dwellers in the metamorphosed cabin o
he upslope of Topeka Mountain, albeit no
one of the three of them had ventured t
hope for anything more than a reprieve a
he outcome of the jaunt afield. But thmanner of his death at the time when th
reprieve seemed well assured wa
responsible for the shock and it
sorrowful aftermath; and if Constancgrieved more than Bartrow or her cousin
t was only for the reason that the heart o
compassion knows best the bitterness o
nfruition.
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"It's a miserably comfortless saying t
offer you, Connie, dear, but we must try to
believe it is for the best," said Myra
finding Constance re-reading Jeffard'elegram by the light of her bedroom lamp
Constance put her arms about he
cousin's neck, and the heart of compassiooverflowed. "'For unto every one that hat
shall be given, but from him that hath no
shall be taken away even that which h
hath,'" she sobbed. "Of all the things hhad set his heart upon life was the least,—
was only the means to an end: and eve
hat was taken from him."
"No, not taken, Connie; he gave it, an
gave it freely. He did for another what hi
friend was trying to do for him."
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At the reference to Jeffard, Constanc
went to stand before the crackling fire o
fir-splinters on the hearth. After a time sh
said: "Do you suppose Mr. Jeffard wilcome here to tell us about it?"
Myra's answer was a query.
"Does he know you are here?"
"No, I think not."
"Then he will be more likely to go tDenver."
Connie's gaze was in the fire, and sh
swerved aside from the straight path onference.
"He will write to Dick," she said. "
should like to read the letter when i
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comes, if I may."
Myra promised, and so it rested; bu
when Jeffard's letter came, and Bartrowhad shared its astounding news with hi
wife, Myra was for rescinding he
promise.
"I don't know why she shouldn't rea
t," said Dick. "She has always been mor
or less interested in him, and it will do he
a whole lot of good to know that we werall off wrong. Jeffard's little slap at m
hits her, too, but she won't mind that."
"No," said Myra; "I was thinking o
something else,—something quit
different."
"Is it sayable?"
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They were sitting on the steps of th
extended porch. The night-shift was a
work in the Myriad below, and the rattl
and clank of a dump-car coming oupostponed her answer. When the clango
subsided she glanced over her shoulder.
"She can't hear," said Bartrow. "She'n the sitting-room reading to Uncl
Steve."
"I'm not sure that it is sayable, DickBut for the last two days I've bee
wondering if we weren't mistaken abou
something else, too,—about Connie'
feeling for Mr. Lansdale. She is sorry, bunot quite in the way I expected she woul
be."
"What has that got to do with Jeffard'
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etter?" demanded the downright one. Hi
ransplantings of perspicacity were not ye
sufficiently acclimated to bloom out o
season.
"Nothing, perhaps." She gave it up a
unspeakable, and went to the details of th
business affair. "Shall you tell Garvin aonce?"
"Sure."
"How fortunate it is that he and Uncl
Stephen came in to-day."
"Yes. They were staked for anothe
month, and I didn't look for them until thewere driven in for more grub. But Garvi
says the old man is about played out. He'
oo old. He can't stand the pick and shove
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n this altitude at his age. We'll have to
alk him out of it and run him back t
Denver some way or other."
"Can't you make this trusteeship a
excuse? If Garvin needed a guardian a
first, he will doubtless need one now."
Bartrow nodded thoughtfully. Anothe
car was coming out, and he waited unti
he crash of the falling ore had come an
gone.
"Jeffard knew what he was about al
he time; knew it when he wrote this lette
ust as well as he did when he shouldere
he curse of it to keep a possible lynchin
party from hanging Garvin. That's why h
put it in trust. He knew Garvin had gon
daft and thrown it away once, and he wa
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afraid he might do it again."
"Will he?" asked the wife.
"I guess not. I believe he has learnehis lesson. More than that, Jim's as soft a
mush on the side next the old man. If I ca
make out to tie Uncle Steve's welfare up
n the deal, Garvin will come to the fron
ike a man."
"Where is Garvin now?"
"He is down at the bunk-house."
Myra rose. "I suppose you want to ge
t over with. Let me have the letter, if youwon't need it."
"What are you going to do?"
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"Carry Connie off to her room an
keep her busy with this while you an
Uncle Stephen fight it out with the new
millionaire," she said. "I don't envy yoyour part of it."
Bartrow laughed, and th
ransplantings put forth a late shoot.
"Come to think of it, I don't know as
envy you yours," he retorted. "She's al
broke up about Uncle Steve's health anLansdale's death now, and she'll have a fi
when she finds out how she has bee
piling it on to Jeffard when he didn
deserve it."
It was an hour later, and the day-me
smoking on the porch of the boarding
house had gone to bed, when the husban
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and wife met again midway of the pat
eading up from the shaft-house of th
Myriad to the metamorphosed cabin
Bartrow had walked down to thboarding-house with Garvin, and Myra'
mpatience had sent her down the path t
meet him. Dick gave her his arm up th
steep ascent, and drew her to a seat on thowest of the porch steps.
"Where is Connie?" he inquired
anticipating an avalanche of questions, ouof which he would have to dig his wa
without fear of interruption.
"She is with her father. Begin at thbeginning, and tell me all about it. Wha
did Garvin say? Is he going to b
sensible?"
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"There isn't so much to tell as ther
might be," Dick said, smothering a might
prompting to tell the major fact firs
"Garvin took it very sensibly, though body could see that the lamplight was
good bit too strong for his eyes. He had t
ry three or four times before he coul
speak, and then all he could say waThirds, Steve, thirds.'"
"'Thirds?' What did he mean by that?"
Bartrow hesitated for a moment, as
gunner who would make sure of th
priming before he jerks the lanyard.
"Did it ever occur to you that any on
else besides Garvin and Jeffard might b
nterested in the Midas?"
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"Why, no!"
"It didn't to me. I don't know why, but
never thought of it, though I knew welenough that Jim never in all his life wen
prospecting on a grub-stake of his ow
providing. He didn't that summer thre
years ago when he drove the tunnel on thMidas."
Myra's lips were dry, and she had to
moisten them to say, "Who was it, Dick?"
"Who should it be but our good ol
Uncle Steve? Of course, he'd forgotten al
about it, and there he stood, wringin
Garvin's hand and trying to congratulat
him; and Jim hanging on to the back of hi
chair and saying, 'Thirds, Steve, I sa
hirds.' Garvin made him understand a
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ast, and then the old man melted dow
nto his chair and put his face in his hands
When he took it out again it was to look u
and say, 'You're right, Jim; of course it'shirds,' and then he asked me wher
Jeffard was."
Myra's voice was unsteady, but shmade shift to say what there was to b
said; and Bartrow went on.
"After a bit we got down to businesand straightened things out. A third
nterest in the Midas is to be set apart fo
Jeffard, to be rammed down his throa
when we find him, whether he will or noUncle Steve will go back to Denver an
set up housekeeping again; and Garvin,—
but that's the funny part of the whol
shooting-match. Garvin refuses to touch
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dollar of the money as owner; insists o
eaving it in trust, just as it is now; an
made me sit down there and then an
write his will."
An outcoming car of ore drowne
Myra's exclamation of surprise.
"Fact," said Bartrow. "He reserves a
ncome to be paid to him at Uncle Steve'
discretion and mine, and at his death hi
hird goes,—to whom, do you suppose?"
"Indeed, I can't imagine,—unless it i
o Connie."
"Not much! It's to be held in trust foMargaret Gannon's children."
"For Margaret,—why, she hasn't an
children! And besides, he doesn't know
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her!"
"Don't you fool yourself. He knows sh
hasn't any children, but he's living ihopes. I told you there was somethin
between them from the way Garvin turne
n and nursed the old blacksmith befor
Margaret came. You wouldn't believe itbecause they both played the total-strange
act; but that was one time when I go
ahead of you, wasn't it?"
"Yes; go on."
"Well, I made out the will, 'I, Jame
Garvin, being of sound mind,' and so on
and Uncle Steve and I witnessed it. But o
he way down to the bunk-shanty just now
pinned Garvin up against the wall an
made him tell me why. He knew Margare
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when she was in the Bijou, and asked he
o marry him. She was honest enough eve
hen to refuse him. It made me want t
weep when I remembered how she habeen mixed up with Jeffard."
Myra was silent for a full minute, an
when she spoke it was out of the depths oa contrite heart.
"I made you believe that, Dick, agains
your will; and you were right, after alMr. Jeffard was only trying to help
Connie's poor people through Margaret
hough why he should do that when he wa
withholding a fortune from Uncle Stephes still a mystery."
"That is as simple as twice two," sai
he husband. "Didn't I tell you? Garvin ha
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no occasion to tell him who his grub
staker was in the first place, and n
chance to do it afterward. Jeffard didn
know,—doesn't know yet."
Myra went silent again, this time fo
more than a minute.
"I have learned something, too, Dick
but I am not sure that I ought to tell it," sh
said, after the interval.
"I can wait," said Bartrow cheerfully
"I've had a full meal of double-back
action surprises as it is."
"This isn't a surprise; or it wouldn't bf we hadn't been taking too much fo
granted. I tolled Connie off to her roo
with the letter, as I said I would; and sh
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—she had a fit, as you prophesied."
"Of course," says Dick. "It hurts he
more than anything to make a miscue ohe charitable side."
"Yes, but"—
"But what?"
"I'll tell you sometime, Dick, but no
now. It is too pitiful."
"I can wait," said Bartrow again; an
his lack of curiosity drove her into th
hick of it.
"If you knew you'd want to d
something,—as I do, only I don't know
how. Isn't it pretty clear that Mr. Jeffard
cares a great deal for Connie?"
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"Oh, I don't know about that. Wha
makes you think so?" says the obviou
one.
"A good many little things; some word
or two that Margaret has let slip, for on
of them. How otherwise would yo
explain his eagerness to help Connie?"
"On general principles, I guess. She'
plenty good enough to warrant it."
"Yes, but it wasn't 'general principles
n Mr. Jeffard's case. He is in love wit
Connie, and"—
"And she doesn't care for him. Is that?"
"No, it isn't it; she does care for him.
fairly shocked it out of her with the letter
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and that is why I oughtn't to tell it, even t
you. It is too pitiful!"
Bartrow shook his head in cheerfudensity. "Your philosophy's too deep fo
me. If they are both of one mind, as yo
say, I don't see where the pity comes in
Jeffard isn't half good enough for her, ocourse; he made a bally idiot of himself
year ago. But if she can forget that, I'
sure we ought to."
"I wasn't thinking of that. But don't yo
see how impossible this Midas tangl
makes it? He won't take his third, you ma
be very sure of that; and when he finds ouhat Connie has a daughter's share in on
of the other thirds, it will seal his lips fo
all time. People would say that he gave up
his share only to marry hers."
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Bartrow got upon his feet and helpe
her to rise. "You'll take cold sitting ou
here in the ten-thousand-foot night," h
said; and on the top step of the porchflight she had his refutation of her lates
assertion.
"You say people would talk. Doesn't istrike you that Jeffard is the one man in
housand who will mount and rid
regardless?—who will smile and snap hi
fingers at public opinion? That's just whahe's been doing all along, and he'll do i
again if he feels like it. Let's go in an
congratulate the good old uncle while w
wait."
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CHAPTER XXXVI
The day train from the south ran int
he early winter twilight at Acequia, and
nto the night at Littleton; and the arc star
of the city, resplendent with frost
aureoles, were brightly scintillant whe
Jeffard gave his hand-bag to the porter an
passed out through the gate at the UnioDepot. By telegraphic prearrangement, h
was to meet Denby in Denver to make hi
report upon the Chihuahuan silver mine
but when he made inquiry at the hotel hwas not sorry to find that the promoter ha
not yet arrived. It is a far cry from Sant
Rosalia to Denver; as far as from th
beginning of the seventeenth century to th
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end of the nineteenth; and he was gratefu
for a little breathing space in which t
synchronize himself.
But after dinner, and a cigar burned
frugally in the great rotunda, where th
faces of all the comers and goers wer
unfamiliar, the homesickness of threturned exile came upon him, and he wen
out to grapple with it in the open air
Faring absently from street to street, wit
his hands thrust into his overcoat pocketand memory plowing its furrow deep in
field which had lain fallow through man
oil-filled weeks, he presently foun
himself drifting by squares and streetcrossings toward Capitol Hill, and out an
beyond to a broad avenue and past a hous
with a veranda in front and a deep-baye
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window at the side. There were lights i
he house, and an air of owner'
occupancy about the place; and on th
veranda a big man was tramping solidlup and down, with the red spark at the en
of his cigar appearing and disappearing a
he passed and repassed the windows.
Jeffard saw the man and saw him not
The memory-plow had gone deeper, and
he winter night changed places with
June morning, with the sun shining aslanon the wide veranda, and a young woma
n a belted house-gown with loose sleeve
iptoeing on the arm of a clumsy chai
while she caught up the new growth of climbing rose. Just here the plow began t
ear up rootlets well-buried but stil
sensitive; and Jeffard turned abou
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abruptly and set his face cityward.
But once again in the region of tal
buildings and peopled sidewalks, thhought of the crowded lobby and th
oneliness of it assailed him afresh, and h
changed his course again, being careful t
go at right angles to the broad avenue witts house of recollection. A little way
beyond the peopled walks the church bell
began to ring out clear and melodious o
he frosty air, and he remembered what thuncalendared journey had made hi
forget; that it was Sunday. Pacin
houghtfully, with the transit-hum of th
city behind him and the quiet house-streetahead, and the plow still shearing the so
of the fallow field, he wondered i
Constance Elliott would be among th
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churchgoers. It was an upflash of the ol
cynicism which prompted the retort that i
was improbable; that the Christianity fo
which she stood was not found in thchurches. But the Puritan blood in hi
rose up in protest at that, and in th
rebound the open doors of a church on th
opposite side of the way beckoned him.
He crossed the street and entered. Th
organist was playing the voluntary, and
smart young man with a tuberose in hibuttonhole held up the finger of invitation
"Not too far forward," Jeffar
whispered; but the young man seemed noo have heard, since he led the way up th
broad centre aisle to a pew far beyond th
strangers' precinct.
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The pew was unoccupied, and Jeffar
went deep into it, meaning to be well ou
of the way of later comers. But when th
finale of the voluntary merged bharmonious transpositions into the key o
he opening hymn, the other sittings in th
pew were still untaken, and Jeffar
congratulated himself. There be timewhen partial isolation, even in a sparsel
filled church, is grateful; and the furrow
n the fallow field were still smoking fro
heir recent upturning.
Jeffard stood in the hymn-singing, an
bowed his head at the prayer, not so muc
n reverence as in deference to timeplace, and encompassments. Since th
shearing of the plowshare filled his ears
he words of the beseeching were lost t
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him, but he was sufficiently alive to hi
surroundings to know that the pew fille
quietly at the beginning of the prayer; an
sufficiently reserved afterward to denhimself so much as a glance aside at hi
nearest neighbor.
How long he would have sat starinabstractedly at the pictured window
beyond the choir must remain a matter fo
conjecture. The minister had given out th
psalm, and Jeffard stood up with thothers. Whereupon he saw of necessit
hat his neighbor was a woman, so smal
hat the trimmings on her modest walkin
hat came barely to his shoulder; saw thisand a moment later was looking down int
a pair of steadfast gray eyes, deep-welle
and eloquent, as she handed him an ope
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book with the leaf turned down.
He took the book mechanically, wit
mute thanks, but afterward he saw anheard nothing for which the evensong i
St. Cyril's-in-the-Desert could justly b
held responsible, being lifted to a sevent
heaven of ecstasy far more real than thadepicted in the glowing periods of th
preacher. He made the most of it, knowin
hat it would presently vanish, and that h
should have to come to earth again. Andnot by whispered word or sign o
recognition would he mar the beatitude o
t. Only once, when he put aside the boo
she had given him and looked on with herdid he suffer himself to do more than t
enjoy silently and to the full the swee
pleasure of her nearness.
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Under the circumstances it was no
singular that his by-glancings did not g
beyond her; and that Dick Bartrow'
hearty handclasp and stage-whispegreeting at the close of the service shoul
ake him by surprise. This he endured a
one in a dream; also the introduction to
radiant young woman with whom Bartrowpresently led the way into the stream o
decorously jostling outgoers pourin
down the great aisle. That left Jeffard t
follow with the small one; and he was stil
groping his way through the speechles
ravishment of it when they overtook th
Bartrows on the sidewalk. Dick promptlbroke the spell.
"Well, well!" he began. "Nothing
surprises me any more; otherwise I shoul
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say you are about the last man on top o
earth that I'd expect to run up against i
church. Don't say 'same here,' because I d
go when I'm made to. Where in the fortyfive states and odd territories did yo
drop from?"
"Not from any one of them," laugheJeffard; and Myra remarked that Connie'
hand was still on his arm. "I am just up
from Old Mexico."
"And you made a straight shoot for
church—for our church and our pew
Good boy! You knew right where to find
us on a Sunday evening, didn't you?"
Jeffard laughed again. Since a tim
unremembered of him it had not been s
easy to laugh and be glad.
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"Don't believe him, Mrs. Bartrow," h
protested. "My motive was a little mixed
'll confess, but it was altogether bette
han that. I was passing, and it occurred tme that I hadn't seen the inside of a
American church for a long time."
"Or of any other kind, I'll be bound,Bartrow amended; and then, in a spirit o
sheer ruthlessness: "Why don't you sa
something, Connie? Call him down an
make him tell the truth about it."
"You don't give any one a chance to
say anything," retorts the quiet one, with
summer-lightning flash of the old mockantagonism. And then to Jeffard: "We are
all very glad to see you again, Mr. Jeffard
Will you be in town long?"
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Bartrow took the words out of hi
mouth and made answer for him.
"Of course he will; he is going to settldown and be home-folks—aren't you
Jeffard? Fall in and let's walk to wher
we can wrestle it out without freezing. It'
colder than ordinary charity standinhere."
Now the way to his hotel lay behin
him and Jeffard hesitated. WhereupoBartrow turned with a laugh derisive.
"Come on, you two. Have you forgotte
he formula, Jeffard? I'll prompt you, an
you can say it over after me. 'Miss Elliott
may I have the pleasure of seeing you'—"
Myra pounced upon the mocker an
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dragged him away; and Constance cut i
swiftly.
"You mustn't mind what Dick says. Hecalls going to church 'dissipation,' and h
s never quite responsible afterward
Won't you go home with us, Mr. Jeffard?"
Jeffard murmured something about
hotel and an appointment, but he had bee
waiting only for an intimation that he wa
forgiven. So they went on togetherwalking briskly, as the frosty nigh
demanded, but they were not able t
overtake the twain in advance. For a tim
hey were both tongue-tied, and for wonder it was the man who first ros
superior to the entanglements of memory
But he was careful to choose the safest o
commonplaces for a topic. They wer
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ascending Capitol Hill, and by way of
beginning he said, "Are you living in thi
part of the city now?"
"Yes; in the old place on Colfax. Dick
ran across the owner in California las
autumn and bought it."
"It is a very pleasant place," Jeffar
ventured, still determined to keep o
ground of the safest.
"Do you know it?" she said, quickly.
"Oh, yes;—er—that is, I know where i
s. I passed it one morning a long tim
ago."
"While we were living there?"
"Yes."
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Silence again for one entire square an
part of another. Then she said, "How did
you know it was our house?"
He laid hold of his courage and tol
he truth. "I met your father a block or tw
down the avenue and I was hoping I migh
come upon the place where you lived. found it. You were on the veranda, tying
up the new shoots of a climbing rose."
"My 'Marechal Niel,'" she said. "It idead now; they let it freeze last winter."
He held his peace for a time, but th
rejoinder strove for speech, and had it
finally.
"The memory of it lives," he said. "
shall always see you as I saw you tha
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morning, whatever comes between. You
had on some sort of a dress that reminde
me of the old Greek draperies, and yo
were standing on the arm of a big chair."
They were at the gate, and she let hi
open it for her. Bartrow and Myra wer
waiting for them at the veranda step. Hrealized that the ground was no longe
safe, and would have taken his leave at th
door. But Dick protested vigorously.
"No, you don't—drop out again like
ship in a fog. We've been laying for you
Uncle Steve and I, ever since yo
absconded last summer, and you don't geaway this time without taking you
medicine. Run him in there, Connie, an
hang on to him while I go get my slipper
and a cigar."
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"There" was the cozy library, with
soft-coal fire burning cheerily in the grate
and the book-lined walls inviting enoug
o beckon any homeless one. But Jeffarwas far beyond any outreaching o
encompassments inviting or repellent
Constance drew up a chair for him befor
he fire, but he stood at the back of it anooked down upon her.
"Miss Elliott, there is something that
should like to tell you about—if it is faenough in the past," he said, when the
were alone.
She was sitting with clasped handsand there was a look in her eyes in th
swift upglancing that he could not fathom
So he waited for her to give him leave.
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"Is it about Mr. Lansdale?" she asked.
"Yes. I was with him up to the last, and
thought that—that you might like to knowwhat I can tell you."
She gave him liberty, and he told th
story of the jaunt afield, dwelling chiefl
on the day-to-day improvement i
Lansdale's health, and stumbling a littl
when he came to speak of their las
evening together.
"It was a hard blow for me," he said, a
he end of it, and his voice was low an
unsteady with emotion. "You know wha
had gone before—what I had lost an
couldn't regain; and having failed at al
points I had hoped to succeed in this: t
bring him back to you sound and well
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And when the possibility was fairl
within reach it was taken out of my hand
forever."
She was silent for a little time, fightin
a sharp battle with reticence new-bor
and masterful. When she spoke it was a
one who is constrained to walk with barfeet in a thorny path of frankness.
"To bring him back to me, you say; and
n your letter to Dick you said that yousorrow was second only to mine. Was he
not your friend, as well as mine?"
"I loved him," said Jeffard, simply
"but not as you did."
Again the struggle was upon her, and
for a moment she thought that the sound o
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Dick's returning footsteps would be th
signal of a blessed release. But the hear
of sincerity would not be denied.
"Let there be no mor
misunderstandings," she said, bravely
"We have all wronged you so deeply tha
you have a right to know the truth. MrLansdale was my friend—as he wa
yours."
"But he meant to be more," Jeffarpersisted—"and if he had come back wit
he courage of health to help him say it
you would not have denied him."
She made a little gesture of dissent.
"His health had nothing to do with i
And—and he said it before he wen
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away."
Jeffard smiled. "You have halved the
bitterness of it for me—as you would havessened my reward if I had succeeded i
bringing him back alive and well. M
motive was mixed, as most huma
promptings are,—I can see that now,—buhe better part of it was a desire to prov
o you that I could do it for your sake. M
debt to you is so large that nothing short o
self-effacement can ever discharge it."
"How can you say that!" she burst ou
"Wasn't I one of the three who ought to
have believed in you?—the one whpromised and failed and made it harde
for you at every turn? You owe me nothing
but scorn."
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He contradicted her gravely. "I ow
you everything that has been saved out o
he wreck of the man who once sat besid
you in the theatre and found fault with thworld for his own shortcomings. You are
remorseful now because you think yo
misjudged me; but you must believe m
when I tell you that it was my love for yohat saved me, at the end of the ends,—tha
kept me from doing precisely what yo
hought I had done. It was a fearfu
emptation. Garvin had fairly tossed th
hing into the abyss."
"I know; but it was only a temptation
and you did not yield to it."
"No; I was able to put it aside in th
strength born of four words of yours. At
ime when I had forgotten God and so wa
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willing to think that He had forgotten me
you said 'I believe in you.' You remember
t?"
She nodded assent, looking up wit
shining eyes to say, "Don't make m
ashamed that I hadn't the strength to go o
believing in you."
"Don't say that. You have nothing to
regret. My silence was the price o
Garvin's safety, at first, and I knew whahe cost would be when I determined t
pay it. Later on the fault was mine; bu
hen I found that I had unconsciously bee
counting upon blind loyalty; yours, anDick's, and Lansdale's;—counting upon i
after I had done everything to make i
mpossible. I had told Dick in th
beginning, and I tried to tell Lansdale
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Dick wanted to believe in me,—ha
wanted to all along, I think,—but Lansdal
had drawn his own conclusions, and h
made my explanation fit them. It hurt, and gave place to bitterness."
"And yet you would have saved hi
for—for—"
"For that which I couldn't have myself
Yes; but you know the motive."
She met his gaze with a new ligh
shining in the steadfast eyes. "I am no
worthy," she said, softly; and he wen
quickly to stand beside her.
"You are worthy; worthy of the bes
hat any man can give you, Constance
How little I have to offer you, beyond
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ove that was strong enough to stand asid
for the sake of your happiness, you know
Ever since that afternoon when you strov
with me for my own soul I've been livinon your compassion, and it is very swee
—but I want more. May I hope to wi
more—in time?"
She shook her head, and his hear
stopped beating. But it came alive agai
with a tumultuous bound at the words o
he soft-spoken reply.
"You won it long ago, so long that I've
forgotten when and how. And it's strong
oo, like yours. I've tried hard enough tstarve it, but it has lived—lived o
nothing."
She was sitting in a low willow
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rocker, and the distance between the
was altogether impossible. So he wen
down on one knee and put his arms abou
her; and but for his manhood would havput his face in her bosom and wept.
"Do you really mean that, Constance?
he said, when he had drunk his fill frohe deep wells in the loving eyes.
"I do."
"In spite of what you believed I ha
done to Garvin, and of what you believe
was capable of doing with Margaret?"
"In spite of everything. Wasn't idreadful?"
"It was—" There was no superlativ
strong enough, though he sought for i
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painfully and with tears. "God help me
sweetheart, I believe I shall go mad wit
he joy of it." And having said that, speec
forsook him, and the silence that is goldecame between. After a while she broke i
o say:
"Dick is good, isn't he?—to be so lonfinding his slippers and the cigar."
"Dick is a man and a brother. I wonde
f we can persuade him to give me a placon the Myriad."
"You wouldn't take it."
"Why wouldn't I?"
"Because you own an undivided thir
of a richer mine than the Little Myriad
and—and you are going to marry anothe
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hird," she said, with sweet audacity.
There was a hassock convenient, an
he drew it up to sit at her feet."Break it as gently as you can," h
entreated. "My cup is too full to hold muc
more. Besides, I've been in Mexico for th
ast three months, and nothing happen
here."
"It's the Midas," she explained
beginning in the midst. "You saved it fo
Garvin, but he was only a half-owner."
"And the other?"
"Was my father. When it came to the
apportionment they both said 'thirds,' an
hat is what poppa and Dick are waiting t
say to you now."
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He found his feet rather unsteadily.
"I can't take it," he said; "you know
can't. It would be too much like taking reward for an act of simple justice
Moreover, I have my reward, and it isn
o be spoken of in the same day with an
Midas of them all. I'll go and tell theso."
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She rose and stood beside him, liftin
he loving eyes to his. The soft glow of th
firelight made a golden aureole of the red
brown hair, and the sweet lips werremulous.
"If you must, Henry. But loving
kindness isn't always in giving and servinand relinquishing. My father has his idea
of justice, too, and so has James Garvin
But for you, they say, the Midas would
never have been found, or, having beefound, would straightway have been los
again. I know the money is nothing to you
—to us two, who have so much; but won
you make a little concession, a littlsacrifice of pride,—for their sakes
Henry?"
He took her face between his hand
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and bent to kiss the lips of pleading.
"Not for their sakes, nor for all th
world beside, my beloved; but always analways for yours. Come; let us g
ogether."
ELECTROTYPED AND PRINTED
BY H. O. HOUGHTON AND CO.
The Riverside Press
CAMBRIDGE, MASS., U. S. A.
Transcriber's Notes:
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Varied hyphenation was
retained.
Page 234, comma changedto a period. (fair enough. It's
accepted)
Page 266, "Connie" changed
to "Connie's" (Connie's eyes
danced)
End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The
Helpers, by Francis Lynde
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