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The Award of Justice; Or, Told in the Rockies: A Pen Picture of the West

by A. Maynard Barbour · English · Gutenberg #30028 · 674,218 chars · public domain (US)

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Title: The Award of Justice; Or, Told in the Rockies: A Pen Picture of the West

Author: A. Maynard Barbour


        
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                Most recently updated: October 24, 2024

Language: English

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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE AWARD OF JUSTICE; OR, TOLD IN THE ROCKIES: A PEN PICTURE OF THE WEST ***

THE AWARD OF JUSTICE

OR

TOLD IN THE ROCKIES.

A Pen Picture of the West.

BY

A. MAYNARD BARBOUR,

AUTHOR OF "That Mainwaring Affair."

"Better is the end of a thing than the beginning thereof."--Ecc. vii, 8.

CHICAGO AND NEW YORK:

RAND, McNALLY & COMPANY,

PUBLISHERS.




Copyright, 1897, by Rand, McNally & Co.

Copyright, 1901, by Rand, McNally & Co.




DEDICATION.

To W. James Barbour,

 My co-worker in this pleasant task,
 at whose suggestion it was undertaken,
 and by whose inspiration it has been guided,
 from inception to completion,
 this book is affectionately dedicated
 by the author,

A. MAYNARD BARBOUR.




THE AWARD OF JUSTICE

By A. Maynard Barbour.




CHAPTER I.


The Pacific Express was due at Valley City at 1:45 p.m. Within ten
minutes of that time, a spring-board wagon, containing two young men
and drawn by a pair of bronchos, suddenly appeared around one end of
the dingy little depot. One of the men, dressed in a tweed traveling
suit, jumped hastily from the wagon, while the other, who looked like
a prosperous young ranchman, seemed to have all he could attend to in
holding the restive little ponies, who were rearing and kicking in
their impatience at being compelled to stand.

"I'm afraid, Ned," he said, "that you'll have to look out for your
traps yourself; these little rats haven't been driven for four days,
and they're feeling pretty frisky."

"All right, Tom," responded the other, diving under the seat of the
spring-board and bringing out the said "traps," which consisted of two
grips, a rifle case, a set of fishing rods, and, last but not least, a
large, square case which he handled with great care, and now held up
to his companion saying,

"See that, Tom? that's my set of cameras; they're fine too, I tell
you."

"But why do you bother to take them around with you all the time, like
that?" inquired his friend.

"Oh," replied Ned, "I do that so as to be ready to catch any choice
scenes I come across; I'm making a collection of views, you know, and
I expect to get a good many on this trip. By the way, I got some
stunning views over there at your place this morning, just before
breakfast."

"The dickens, you did!" exclaimed Tom, suddenly remembering a
ludicrous predicament in which his guest had caught him.

"Oh, yes," said Ned, "and when I get away at a safe distance I'm going
to develop them and send them to you. I've got an awfully fine--well,
by Jove, if that isn't just my luck!"

Ned had just deposited his belongings on the depot platform and in
doing so, noticed a piece of blackboard propped up against the wall,
on which were chalked these words, "Train 3 ours late." His eyes
seemed riveted to the spot.

"What's the matter now?" asked Tom, who took in the situation at a
glance.

"Matter! Why, that blasted train is three hours behind time."

"Too bad!" said Tom, with a grin; "if I'd only known that I needn't
have driven my horses so hard."

"Oh, confound those little beasts of yours;" exclaimed Ned, "a little
exercise won't hurt them, but to think of three hours in a place like
this! and say, don't you know how to spell out here?"

"Well," said Tom, coolly, "I don't hold myself personally responsible
for the wording of that blackboard, but I suppose that's the phonetic
spelling they used to talk about when I lived east; you see we've
adopted it out here, for we westerners have to rustle lively, and
don't have time for old-fashioned ways."

"I see," said Ned, rather sarcastically; "perhaps you can tell me why
they don't 'rustle' that train along on time."

"I suppose," replied Tom, "it's on account of that wreck two days ago;
you know your train was ten hours late yesterday."

"Yes," assented Ned, gazing about him with an expression of intense
disgust; "I got here after dark; that's how it comes about that I
never realized until the present moment what a paradise this place is.
Valley City! I can't see more than a dozen buildings here."

"That's probably because you're so near-sighted, my dear boy,"
replied Tom; and Ned, who was very sensitive on the subject of his
near-sightedness, colored, and readjusted his eye-glasses, while he
asked in a tone of despair:

"Well, what am I to do in this beastly place, anyhow?"

"You might take a stroll about the city," suggested Tom, "if you get
lost you'll have to inquire your way of some of the police. I would be
delighted to stay and keep you company, but work on the ranch is
rushing and I must hurry back; so I'll wish you good luck and
good-bye."

"All right, old fellow," said Ned, shaking hands in a slightly
patronizing way, "if you ever get out of this country, and find
yourself within the limits of civilization again, just take a run down
to the 'Hub' and see me."

"Much obliged," said Tom, turning around for a parting shot; "I say,
Ned, while you're waiting for the train, you'd better get out your
cameras; you might catch some more 'stunning views' you know," and
lightly snapping his whip, he started off, the bronchos standing on
their forefeet with their heels in the air.

"Good-bye, Tom," Ned called, after the rapidly retreating spring-board,
"if you ever had any brains to lose I'd be anxious about you, but I
guess you're safe enough."

Tom's only reply was a crack of the whip, and he and the ponies soon
disappeared in a cloud of dust, leaving Ned to survey his surroundings
at his leisure.

In the foreground was the low, dingy depot, and on the platform,
leaning against the building as though their spinal columns were
unable to support them, were two specimens of the genus homo, which
were entirely new to the young Bostonian. He gazed at them with
undisguised interest, being unable to determine whether they were
cow-boys or miners, these being the two classes into which, as he
imagined, the western population was about evenly divided. That they
immediately classified him, in their western vernacular, as a
"tenderfoot," and a remarkably verdant specimen at that, was not owing
to their superior penetration, as it was a self-evident fact.

Mr. Edward B. Rutherford, Jr., prided himself upon being a
resident of Boston, a son of one of her best families, and a
graduate of Harvard, and it is scarcely to be wondered at if he
felt himself slightly superior to ordinary mortals who had not been
blessed with these advantages. Nevertheless, the fact remained that
Mr. Rutherford's personal appearance could not be considered
especially prepossessing, even when moving in his own sphere where
he felt himself, as he would have expressed it, "en rapport" with his
surroundings; under other circumstances, as at the present time, it
very nearly approached the ludicrous. He was small in stature, but
his bump of self-esteem was developed in an inverse ratio to his
size. He seemed to be making a constant effort to maintain his
dignity at the proper level, in which direction he was greatly
assisted by a pair of eye-glasses, perched on a very large and
decidedly Roman nose. It had been claimed by his college chums
that the eye-glasses were worn for this especial purpose; be that
as it may, without their assistance, his task would certainly have
been a difficult one, as his eyes, which were very full and round,
and surmounted by a pair of extremely high-arched eyebrows, gave him
always an expression of exaggerated surprise and bewilderment,
which, when intensified as on the present occasion, rendered his
appearance very far from the otium cum dignitate to which he aspired.
But upon very few is the "giftie" bestowed, "to see oursel's as
ithers see us," and to many besides the junior Mr. Rutherford, such
a vision would be anything but satisfactory.

At the present time, however, Rutherford's only troubles were his
immediate surroundings, and the problem of how to pass the next three
hours. The loungers, who by this time had changed to a sitting
posture, and who were staring at him with an unwinking fixedness which
made him rather nervous, did not seem very congenial companions. The
town consisted of merely a few, straggling, unpainted buildings, while
in every direction extended the apparently interminable stretches of
undulating prairie, partially covered with sage brush and wild cactus.
Though early in the season, the heat was intense, and the glare of the
sunlight reflected from the patches of white, chalk-like sand, was so
blinding as to seem unendurable.

The interior of the depot was even more cheerless than the exterior. A
rusty stove, minus one leg, two or three battered benches, a flaming
circus poster, and an announcement of the preceding year's county fair
constituted the entire furnishing and decoration. No signs of life
were visible, the window into the ticket office being closed, while
from somewhere within the little inclosure, a telegraphic instrument
clicked with a cheerful pertinacity that to Rutherford seemed simply
exasperating.

In the course of half an hour, however, the monotony was relieved by
the appearance of half a dozen soldiers, who strolled over from a
neighboring fort, about two miles distant. Rutherford had soon
introduced himself to them, with a formality which they considered
highly amusing, and they entertained him with tales of various
thrilling adventures and hair breadth escapes, nearly all invented for
the occasion, to which he listened with an open-mouthed astonishment
that elicited many winks and grins from the blue-coats. Finally, two
of them escorted him to a small Indian camp, about a mile distant,
which was hidden from view by a sandy knoll, where, in some cottonwood
brush, beside a small creek, they found half a dozen tepees, around
which were squatted twenty or thirty disreputable-looking Indians,
their ponies tethered in the brush near by. The bucks were sullen and
uncommunicative, maintaining a solemn silence broken only by an
occasional grunt. Their dress was a combination of Indian costume and
articles purchased from the white people, the latter being put on to
suit the individual taste of the wearer, without the least regard to
the use for which it was originally intended. One, who seemed a leader
in the camp, in addition to his native toggery of feathers, beads and
brass rings, wore trousers of striped bed-ticking, two or three pairs
of gayly colored suspenders knotted together for a belt and sash, and
a flaming red necktie braided in his hair. The squaws in their
blankets were quite socially inclined, and the wig-wams at a little
distance looked very romantic to the young easterner, but the odors
wafted from them were sufficient for him, and he declined to penetrate
any further into the mysteries of an Indian camp; and after taking one
or two views of the Indians and their tepees, he returned to the
depot.

It was now nearly train time, and the number of loungers and loafers
had increased amazingly, considering the size of the town. There were
thirty or forty of them, all more or less resembling the first
specimens, and Rutherford wondered where they stowed themselves away,
not realizing that many came in from little shacks scattered over the
prairies; for to them, the coming of the train from the east was the
one great event of the day.

Among them Rutherford noticed a man, who, though clad as roughly as
the others, yet had an individuality so distinct from them as to be
noticeable even to a stranger. He wore an old soft hat and rough
blouse, his trousers being tucked into a pair of heavy, hobnailed
boots that reached to his knees. He was tall and stooped slightly, but
there was none of the slouching figure and gait that characterized
those around him. His movements were quick, and, when standing
motionless, there was something in his very pose that conveyed an
impression of alertness and of latent strength. His back was turned
toward Rutherford, who was watching him under a sort of subtle
fascination, when suddenly he wheeled, facing him. His eyes were keen
and piercing, and as he looked for an instant at Rutherford with an
expression of suspicion and distrust, and then seemed to survey his
diminutive figure with a quick glance of contempt, that young man felt
a sudden and violent terror in his inmost soul, which was not lessened
when his eyes fell upon a sheath knife and huge revolver in the
stranger's belt. Involuntarily Rutherford's hand went to his hip
pocket, where reposed a dainty, pearl-handled Smith and Wesson,
38-calibre, but he immediately regretted the movement, for the
blue-black eyes watching him scintillated for a moment with a cold,
steel-like glitter, and the lips under the heavy, black beard curled
with a smile of fine scorn, that made our young hero exceedingly
uncomfortable.

The whistle of the approaching train afforded him unspeakable relief,
and at the first opportunity he put himself and his belongings aboard
with a celerity very remarkable in one of his usual dignity.




CHAPTER II.


As the Pacific Express was speeding westward across the prairies, a
young man, half reclining among the cushions of the smoking car, was
enjoying a choice Havana. He took no note of external objects as they
flashed with almost lightning rapidity past the car windows, and he
seemed equally unconscious of the presence of his fellow passengers.
His dress and manner, as well as his nonchalant, graceful attitude,
and even the delicate poise of his cigar, were all indicative of
wealth and refinement, and of a courtesy innate, not acquired. His
head was slightly thrown back, and with half-closed, dreamy eyes, he
watched the coils of blue smoke wreathing and curling above his head,
but his mind was actively engaged in planning the details of the new
life opening up before him in the west. Walter Everard Houston, of New
York, the possessor of a million in his own name, and prospective heir
to many millions more, was en route for a small mining camp, far west,
in the heart of the Rockies, where he was to fill the position of
bookkeeper and corresponding secretary in the office of a mining
company, at a salary of one hundred dollars per month.

Mr. Houston's parents had died when he was very young, and he had been
tenderly reared in the home of his uncle, his mother's brother, Walter
Everard Cameron. Even now, as he watched the blue coils above his
head, his memory was going back to the time when he had entered that
beautiful home. He recalled the different members of that lovely
family, as they then appeared to him; the dark, patrician face of his
aunt, with its wondrous beauty, which, in the following years had
been so softened and deepened by sorrow that now it was almost
saint-like in the calm look of peace and love which it wore, with the
soft, snow-white hair surrounding it like a halo of glory. Then his
beautiful cousin Edna, with her sunny hair and starry eyes, and her
wonderful voice filling the home with music. She had married soon
after he entered the family, and went with her husband to a distant,
western city, often returning to visit the old home. How well he
remembered the last visit! Her baby was then nearly two years old; he
could not now recall her name, but she was a little, golden-haired
toddler, with her mother's eyes and voice. His cousin was suddenly
called home by a telegram that her husband was ill; then, in a day or
two, came the news of a frightful railroad accident, a collision and a
fire which quickly consumed the wreck. Edna was rescued from the
flames, unconscious and dying, but no trace could be found of the
little one. Then followed word of the death of Edna's husband; he had
died a few hours later than the accident occurred, ignorant of the
terrible fate of his wife and child.

Next came the memory of his cousin, Guy Cameron, but a few years older
than himself; dark and beautiful like his mother, proud spirited and
headstrong, the pride of his parents, but through him came their most
bitter sorrow. Through fast living and gambling he became deeply
involved, and forged his father's name to several checks, amounting to
nearly a hundred thousand; then, overcome by shame and remorse, he had
fled in the night, no one knew whither. His father payed the full
amount of the debt, without even betraying his son's guilt, and then
for years employed the most skillful detectives, trying to bring back
the wanderer to the love and forgiveness which awaited him; but in
vain, no trace of him existed. The father had long ago given up all
hope of ever seeing his boy again, and doubted whether he were living.
Only the sweet-faced mother, strong in her mother-love and in her
faith in God, believed that he would yet return, and was content to
watch and wait.

Meantime, Everard Houston had become like a son to Mr. and Mrs.
Cameron. After leaving college, he had been taken by his uncle as a
partner into his enormous banking house, and intrusted more or less
with the charge of various departments of business with which he was
connected, and he had proven himself worthy of the trust reposed in
him.

For a number of years, Mr. Cameron had been president of a large
investment company, which, among other properties, owned a number of
mines in the west which had been represented to be very valuable, and
which, at the time of purchase, possessed every indication of being
heavy producers of very rich ore. Lately, these mines had not been
yielding the profit which it was reasonable to expect from them, and
there were indications of bad management, if not of dishonesty, at the
western end of the line. One or two so-called experts had been sent
out to investigate, but they had after all so little knowledge of
practical mining, that they were unable to produce any tangible
evidence against the company who constituted their western agents,
although their reports had only tended to strengthen Mr. Cameron's
belief that there was underhanded and dishonest dealing somewhere,
which could only be detected by a person on the ground whom the
western company would not suspect of being personally interested.
Happening to learn, through a Chicago firm who were friends of Mr.
Cameron's, that the western company were desirous of getting a
bookkeeper and confidential clerk, it was decided, after consultation,
to send out Everard Houston to take this position. Accordingly, he had
gone to Chicago, and the firm there had written a letter to the mining
company, recommending him as a young man of their acquaintance, of
exceptional ability, reliable, and thoroughly to be trusted in all
confidential matters. The company had responded favorably, offering
the position to Mr. Houston for one month on trial, at one hundred
dollars, his traveling expenses to be paid by them. If he proved
satisfactory, they would retain him as long as would be mutually
agreeable, and if his services proved as valuable as expected, would
increase his salary. Mr. Houston was, therefore, on his way to the
mines to accept this position, together with the munificent salary,
and hoped to prove so satisfactory as to soon be admitted to the
"confidential" clerkship, in which event he anticipated being able to
accomplish a nice little piece of detective work.




CHAPTER III.


Mr. Houston was aroused from his pleasant revery by the rather noisy
entrance of a young man, who, with flushed face, and manner more
indicative of self-assertion than self-possession, passed down the car
and took a seat facing himself. This was none other than our friend,
Rutherford, who, having secured his berth in the sleeper, and arranged
his belongings to his entire satisfaction, immediately repaired to the
smoking car to soothe his perturbed and agitated spirits by a cigar.

From under his heavily drooping eyelids, Houston regarded his
vis-a-vis with concealed amusement, for he was an apt student of human
nature, and possessed an unusual degree of insight into the
characteristics of those with whom he was thrown in contact.

Rutherford, on his part, was watching Houston with his usual degree of
interest and curiosity. Each was measuring the other from his own
standpoint: Houston's prompt decision was,--"A good-hearted fellow,
but something of a cad;" while Rutherford's vague surmises, summed up
verbally, would have been,--"Nice looking sort of fellow, a gentleman;
guess he's got the stuff, too; 'twon't do any harm to make his
acquaintance."

An opportunity for this soon presented itself, for as the conductor
passed leisurely through the car, examining tickets, Rutherford
discovered that their destinations were the same, and hastily drawing
his card case from his pocket, said:

"As we seem likely to be fellow travelers for a while, I should be
pleased to make your acquaintance; allow me," at the same time
offering his card.

Houston took the card, greeting him courteously, and giving his own
in exchange. He half smiled as he looked at the diminutive slip of
cardboard with its Boston address made unnecessarily prominent, while
Rutherford, after scanning the card he held, bearing simply the name
of W. E. Houston, remarked with a decidedly upward inflection,

"You are from--?"

"From Chicago," Houston replied promptly.

"Ah," Rutherford responded, "then I suppose you are quite familiar
with this part of the country."

"Well, not exactly," replied Houston, smiling, "Chicago, I'll admit,
seems inclined to embrace a small part of the state of Illinois within
her city limits, but I never heard of her attempting to claim the
prairies of the Missouri valley among her suburbs."

"Well, no," said Rutherford, laughing, "not quite so bad as that, I
guess, but perhaps I didn't convey my meaning very clearly; my idea
was, that living in one of the western cities, you know, perhaps you
were out this way often."

"On the contrary, this is my first trip out here."

"Indeed! A pleasure trip, I presume?"

"No, I am out on business," replied Houston, not caring to state very
definitely just then the nature of his business.

"Well," said Rutherford, settling himself into an attitude more
comfortable than graceful, "I came out on a pleasure trip, but I must
say that so far, the pleasure has been rather an uncertain quantity;
for the last forty-eight hours, I haven't seen much besides dust,
Indians and desperadoes."

"Forty-eight hours!" exclaimed his companion, "you surely have not
been on this train that length of time."

"Not on this train; I stopped off last night to see an old friend of
mine that has a ranch out here," and forthwith, Rutherford launched
into a recital of his experiences of the last few hours, not omitting
a description of the man whose appearance had struck such terror to
his heart and expedited his departure from Valley City.

"I tell you, he was a man I wouldn't like to meet in the dark; he was
armed to the teeth, and there was a look in his eye that was awfully
unpleasant."

Mr. Houston judged from his companion's manner that he had not been
particularly pleased at meeting this alleged desperado in broad
daylight, but he courteously refrained from any such insinuation, and
as supper was just then announced, the young men adjourned to the
dining car, and the experiences of Mr. Rutherford were, for the time,
forgotten.

Nothing special occurred that evening, except that the monotony of the
journey was slightly relieved by the train entering upon the Bad
Lands. For some time, Houston and Rutherford stood upon the rear
platform, enjoying their cigars, and watching the strange phenomena of
that weird region; on all sides, vast tracts of ashen gray or black,
as if burnt to a crisp, with no sign of life, animal or vegetable, the
lurid lights flashing and playing in the distance, until it seemed as
though they might be gliding through the borderland of Dante's
Inferno.

Their cigars finished, they separated for the night, to be agreeably
surprised by the delightful change that met their eyes the following
morning. Houston was already at the breakfast table enjoying the
scenery, when Rutherford sauntered into the dining car. They exchanged
greetings, and the latter dropped into a seat facing his companion,
exclaiming as he did so,

"Well, say now, this looks a little more like civilization, doesn't
it?" and having ordered his breakfast and helped himself to fruit, he
proceeded to watch the beautiful panorama flashing past in the
sunlight.

They were passing through one of the most fertile valleys of the
northwest. Away to the south, a beautiful river glistened like a broad
ribbon of silver, and leading from it was a gleaming net-work of
irrigating canals and ditches, carrying the life-giving waters over
thousands of broad acres; some already green with grass and alfalfa,
while others were dotted with scores of men and horses opening the
brown earth in long, straight lines of furrows, or scattering
broadcast the golden grain.

Far in the distance, faintly outlined against the blue sky, was a
fleecy, cloud-like mass, grayish blue at the base, with points here
and there of dazzling whiteness, which Houston had known at once as
the first glimpse of the Rocky Mountains, but which Rutherford failed
to notice.

"Well," said the latter, withdrawing his head from the window, and
preparing to attack his breakfast, "it seems to me, after nearly
forty hours of nothing but prairies, it's about time to see some
mountains."

"They're in sight now," responded Houston quietly.

"What!" exclaimed his companion, dropping his knife and fork in
haste.

"You can see them now; I've been waiting for you to recognize them,"
said Houston, smiling; "look off there to the southwest," he added, as
Rutherford was readjusting his eye-glasses, preparatory to a careful
survey of the horizon.

"Well, I'll be blessed!" ejaculated the latter, "I supposed those were
clouds. My! but they must be mighty far away, twenty-five miles, I
expect, at the least."

"Sixty miles, at least," said Houston, glancing at them, "perhaps
more."

"Pardon me, gentlemen," said a bland voice across the aisle, and the
young men, turning, saw a much-bejewelled individual, with a florid,
but very smiling face; "I see you have not yet become accustomed to
the vast distances of this great country of ours in the northwest.
Those mountains which you are discussing are about ninety miles
distant."

Rutherford's eyes expressed an immense amount of incredulity, while
Houston simply bowed silently. The man continued:

"The wonderful rarity of our atmosphere in these altitudes is
something that has to be experienced in order to be thoroughly
understood and appreciated, or even believed. You tell an eastern man
of the great distances here at which you can see and hear, clearly and
readily; he will immediately doubt your veracity, simply because it is
without the line of his experience. Now I myself, personally, with my
own, unaided vision, have been able to count the mules in a pack-train
sixty-three miles distant, and have repeatedly held conversations at
a distance of fifteen miles."

"Guess the conversation was pretty much all on one side, wasn't it?"
asked Rutherford, adding sotto voce to Houston, "as on the present
occasion."

"Ah, no, indeed not," the man replied; "I see, my young friend, that
you are inclined, like all strangers, to be a little incredulous and
skeptical, but if you remain in this country of ours any length of
time, that will soon pass away, very soon."

"I don't think I care to remain here very long then, if it will have
any such effect on my brain as that," said Rutherford.

"You are inclined to be facetious, my friend; that is all right, I
appreciate a little witticism myself occasionally. By the way," he
continued, evidently determined to get into conversation with Houston,
"I suppose you young gentlemen are out here on business, looking for
valuable investments in this wonderful country."

At the word "Business" Mr. Rutherford instantly assumed his dignity,
dropping into the slightly drawling tone he always used on such
occasions, and which he intended as an extinguisher on any person whom
he deemed too familiar.

"Well, no," he replied, twirling an incipient mustache, "at least, not
so far as I am concerned; I am just out on a sort of an extended
pleasure trip, you know."

"Ah, your friend is a business man, I judge; perhaps," turning to
Houston, "we can interest you in some of our rare bargains in the line
of real estate, improved or unimproved, city or country; or possibly
in our mines, gold or silver properties, quartz or placer, we have
them all."

"You seem to have a 'corner' on this part of the northwest?" remarked
Rutherford, rather sarcastically.

"Indeed, young man, we have a good many 'corners,' pretty valuable
ones, too," the man replied imperturbably, still watching Houston, who
replied in a courteous but indifferent tone:

"I am out here on business, but am not in a position to make any
investments at present, nor do I expect to be for some time."

"Ah, your business?" asked his interlocutor.

"I am an accountant," he replied quietly.

The man seemed satisfied. "Well, gentlemen," he said, rising from the
table, "I am glad to have met you, and hope to have the pleasure of
seeing you later in our city. Allow me to present my card, and if
there is anything we can ever do for you in our line, please give us a
call," and smilingly handing each a card, he bowed himself out of the
car.

"Well, by Jove!" exclaimed Rutherford, his grammar getting a little
mixed, "either that man's a fool, or he thought we were; I don't know
which."

"Probably the latter," said Houston, smiling; then glancing at the
card beside his plate, he read, "J. D. Wilson, President of the
Northwestern Mining, Land and Investment Company, Silver City;" and he
was the prospective clerk of The Northwestern Mining, Land and
Investment Company!




CHAPTER IV.


An hour or two later, the Pacific Express was slowly winding up the
long mountain grade, the engine puffing and wheezing in apoplectic
fashion, and occasionally emitting short shrieks of protest. The
mountains, which had gradually been assuming shape and color, were now
looming up in grand proportions, their rugged outlines clearly defined
against the sky. Already the mountain breezes, fragrant with the
breath of tamarack, spruce and pine, stole in on adventurous wings
through the car windows; lifted locks, both golden and silvered, from
heated brows, kissed a fretful infant into peaceful slumber, turned
the pages of novels and flapped newspapers so persistently that their
readers were compelled to abandon them, and brought new energy and
inspiration to the languid, listless passengers, so that they began to
evince symptoms of interest in their surroundings.

In his favorite lounging attitude, Houston sat, his eyes fixed on the
mountains, moment by moment growing more distinct in their rugged
grandeur, a half-smile of amusement playing over his face, as he
recalled the interview with the president of The Northwestern Mining,
Land and Investment Company. Upon inquiry, he had learned that Mr.
Wilson had boarded the train at a little way station, before daylight
that morning, and the zeal displayed by that gentleman in thus seeking
to ascertain something regarding the characteristics of his future
clerk, by anticipating his arrival in this manner seemed to Houston
decidedly amusing, and at the same time furnished him a clue
concerning the character of one of the men with whom he was to be
associated.

He was aroused by the entrance of Rutherford, who, having learned that
the train would make stops among the canyons they were approaching,
was getting his kodak and plates in readiness, preparatory to taking
impressions of some of the finest views.

After a few moments, the conversation drifted to the subject of their
destination, which they would reach in three or four hours.

"I suppose," said Rutherford, addressing his companion rather
hesitatingly, "I suppose you will remain in Silver City for some
time?"

"I am not quite certain," he replied, "my impression is, however, that
I shall not be detained there more than a day or two."

"Indeed! then are you going on farther west?"

"No, I expect to go out among the mines for a while."

"Among the mines! Now I should think that would be fine; you'll have a
chance to see western life in earnest. So you are interested in mines!
Well, I thought something of the kind when you said you were out on
business. No wonder you were so cool with old Boomerang this morning,
and didn't care for any of his wonderful investments."

Houston was silent for a moment, a curious smile playing over his fine
features; then watching Rutherford keenly through half-closed eyes, he
said,

"On the contrary, instead of being a mine owner, as you surmise, I am
the employe of a mining company, and 'old Boomerang,' as you call him,
is the president of that company."

Rutherford sat for an instant as if petrified; then managed to gasp,
"Great Heavens! are you associated in business with that man?"

"Yes," said Houston, looking almost as if he enjoyed the situation,
"associated as employer and employe. I am going out to fill the
position of accountant for the same company of which he is president."

"Oh, I see; you are just going to take the position. Did you know all
the time who he was?"

"I had no more idea than you until I saw his card; but I think he knew
me, was looking around, in fact, to see what his new clerk was like."

"The old beast!" exclaimed Rutherford. His face was a study, it
represented so many conflicting emotions; several times he seemed
about to speak, then remained silent, looking more and more perplexed.
He was sorely puzzled; Houston was the embodiment of courtesy and
refinement, his every word and gesture revealed a man of wealth,
education and culture,--and yet, a clerk, and for such a man! and
strangest of all, he seemed to feel no chagrin in speaking of his
position.

Houston's voice broke in pleasantly upon his cogitations: "I saw it
would never do for you to travel about here under such erroneous
impressions; imagining you were associating with a heavy capitalist,
or a mining broker, when--"

"Oh, hang it all!" interrupted Rutherford, brusquely, "What difference
does it make? You're a gentleman, anybody can see that. I'll own up
that it did knock me out at first to find you were connected in any
way with that old chap; but I know you're all right, and I had no
business questioning around as I did about your affairs; I beg your
pardon, and I'll explain now why I did it. I'm a stranger out here,
and I've taken an awful liking to you, and when we get to Silver City,
if you don't mind, I'd like to keep in with you until I get a little
accustomed to the ways out here; that is, if you've no objections."

"That's all right," responded Houston cordially, "stay with me as long
as you like; and now, let's go out and take a look at the mountains,"
and the two young men shook hands, each feeling a sort of presentiment
that the friendship begun under these peculiar circumstances was one
for life, and such it proved.

On reaching the rear platform they discovered that the train was
following the course of a river winding through a rocky gorge that
grew narrower, moment by moment. The walls grew higher and steeper at
every turn, while towering above and beyond were the mountain peaks.
They stood clinging to the railings, and watching the rapidly changing
scene, as the train swerved and swept from one direction to another,
following the winding of the river.

Suddenly the walls shot upward almost perpendicularly for hundreds of
feet, shutting out the sunlight, leaving nothing visible but a narrow
strip of sky; and still the great rocks came closer and closer, until
little more than the width of the car was left, and it seemed that in
a moment that must be crushed. The ponderous wheels were slowly
revolving over a trestle bridge of steel, mortised into the rocks,
while the deafening echoes reverberated between the narrowing walls,
and rippled the surface of the river flowing deep and black below.
Then suddenly another swift, sharp turn, and they were out in the
dazzling sunshine, amidst a scene of untold beauty and grandeur.

Here, at the entrance of the canyon, the train stopped, giving the
passengers an opportunity to alight and enjoy the scenery. On all
sides rose masses of rock, some fashioned in wondrous beauty, others
in forms weird and fantastic; some gray and rugged, some tinted with
intermingling shades of color, and others sparkling in the sunlight as
though studded with gems innumerable. Here and there were piles of
rock, crimson and green and golden, resembling the moss-grown,
ivy-covered castles of the olden time. Farther on were mountains
covered with heavy forests of pine, through which the winds sighed and
whispered mysteriously, while at their feet the little streams
lingered lovingly long enough to catch the whispered secrets, and
bear them away, laughing and singing, on their journey toward the
great sea.

The train moved slowly on to another canyon, more grand in its awful
solitude than the first, surrounded on all sides by walls nearly a
thousand feet in height. At one side, a broad sheet of water,
shimmering in the sunlight, fell, like a bridal veil, down the
precipitous rock, with a deafening roar disappearing into unseen
depths below, while at the base of the canyon lay a lake of sapphire,
in whose calm, untroubled depths, rocks and cascade and sky were
mirrored in perfect beauty.

Slowly the train wound its way upward, until it paused again near the
summit of the range, on the "divide," the boundary line between the
east and the west. There were the serried ranks of the mountains,
vast, solemn, grand; and in that awful solitude, under the spell of
that eternal silence, a sense of the infinite hushed every tongue, and
each one stood with bated breath, as if on holy ground. On every side
the billowy ranges surged, like the gigantic waves of a storm-tossed
ocean suddenly congealed to stone, while here and there, towered
mighty peaks, like huge sentinels, their brows seamed with furrows
plowed by the hand of the centuries, their heads white with the snows
of countless ages.

Here two tiny streams flowed side by side, then separated; the one to
start on its long journey toward the old Atlantic, the other toward
the Golden Gate, to mingle its waters with those of the sunset sea.

Slowly the passengers returned to the train, stopping on their way to
gather the little wild flowers growing between the loosened
rocks,--frail mountain children of the sun and wind,--to be preserved
as souvenirs of the "divide."




CHAPTER V.


Rutherford had so diligently improved the opportunities afforded by
the stopping of the train, in securing views of some of the finest
scenes, that when the divide was reached, he had only two plates
left. These he quickly used, and then gave himself up to silent
contemplation and enjoyment of the beauty around him. Very slowly and
regretfully he and Houston followed the example of the others, and
turned toward the waiting train, like them, picking the delicate
wild flowers and pressing them in their note books.

It was during the first of these stops, at the entrance to the
canyons, that Rutherford, hastily glancing up from his work, saw,
standing among the passengers, a little in the background, the man
whom he had last seen at the Valley City depot. He was standing in the
same alert, watchful attitude, but the soft hat was drawn downward
over his face concealing his eyes, and the knife and revolver were
hidden by a rough jacket. He was not then looking toward Rutherford,
but was facing in another direction, where Houston was strolling among
the rocks, and when, a few moments later, Houston sauntered over to
observe his work, Rutherford called his attention to the man, but he
was nearly hidden behind a group of men, only a little of his figure
being visible. Later, when they were again seated in the car,
descending the western grade, Rutherford asked his companion whether
he had succeeded in getting a glimpse of the man.

"Yes," said Houston, "a glimpse and no more; once or twice I was near
him, but his face was turned the other way. I passed him in taking the
train, but I had only a hurried glimpse of his face; it seemed to me
that it was a face of unusual intelligence for a man of that class, as
I should judge him to be a miner, but I did not think he looked
particularly dangerous."

"Wait till you see his eyes," said Rutherford, then inquired, "By the
way, did you see the old mining chap anywhere?"

"Oh, yes," said Houston, laughing, "twice; once with a townsite map
spread out before him, talking real estate to a couple of men, and
again in the smoking car where he was playing poker."

"I didn't see him out looking at the mountains."

"No, probably they have no interest for him, except just so far as
they contain gold mines."

They talked of the mountains, and Rutherford suddenly exclaimed, "I
wish I could find some way of getting out and camping right among
the mountains themselves. I don't care to stop in any little
half-civilized western town for any length of time, but if I could
just go right out into the heart of the mountains somewhere, and
stay for a few weeks, that would be an experience worth having."

Houston smiled; "How would you like a trip out into the part of the
country where I am going? As near as I can make out, it is twenty-five
miles from the nearest town, just a rough mining camp, with very few
people aside from the miners."

"Why," replied Rutherford, "I think that would be fine; anyhow, I'll
try it if you have no objections; it will be a change anyway."

And so it was decided that Rutherford should extend his pleasure trip
into the mining camp, and Houston was pleased with the arrangement,
for, notwithstanding the work which he had planned, he expected to
find many lonely hours and monotonous days, little dreaming of the
interests that awaited him, or that he was entering upon the most
eventful portion of his life.

At about one o'clock the train arrived at Silver City, a town of about
fifteen thousand inhabitants. The young men, as they left the train,
caught a glimpse of the indefatigable Mr. Wilson as he was boarding a
street car in company with two intended victims which he had already
secured. They took a carriage, and as they were whirled rapidly
through the steep, narrow streets on their way to the hotel, the
little city seemed to them like a thoroughly typical, western, mining
town. The town was surrounded by mountains, and prospect holes and
abandoned placer diggings could be seen in every direction, while
interspersed among the business blocks of brick and stone, were tiny
cabins, built of logs,--all relics of the earlier days when Silver
City was but a large mining camp.

After lunch, Houston started forth in search of the city office of The
Northwestern Mining, Land and Investment Company, which he found
without difficulty. He was surprised to discover that business there
was conducted on something of a co-operative plan, as the one large
room in which he found himself constituted the offices of some
half-dozen mining and real estate companies, and was occupied at the
time by eight or ten different men, each seated at his own desk, and
separated from his neighbors by a little wooden railing. A broad aisle
extended through the center of the room, and at the farther end were
two or three accountants' desks, two large safes and two typewriters.

The whole arrangement seemed to Houston extremely crowded and
confusing, but he afterward learned that it had its advantages; as
certain deeds, contracts and leases could be so easily mislaid and
lost; then too, it had an effect upon the minds of some of their
patrons that was particularly desirable, as they usually left the
office in a state of such bewilderment, that they were unable to tell
with any degree of certainty, just which one of the many high-sounding
companies it was, with which they had entered into agreement, and as
the eight or ten men were each connected in some way with all of the
companies, they all came in for a share of the profits, no matter who
was the victim.

Houston having inquired of a white-haired, benevolent-looking
individual at his right, for Mr. Wilson, was politely directed to the
third desk on the left-hand side. Here he found Mr. Wilson, who
greeted him effusively, and introduced him to Mr. Blaisdell, the
general manager of the company. The secretary of the company was, at
that moment, doing duty in another part of the room, as president of
The North American Townsite & Irrigation Company, consequently Houston
did not meet him until later.

As Messrs. Wilson and Blaisdell were just then engaged with a
customer, they begged Mr. Houston to excuse them for a few moments,
which he did very willingly, and thus was afforded an opportunity to
observe the two men closely. Mr. Blaisdell had rather a long and
narrow face, and what is called a "sandy" complexion; his hair, face
and small goatee (he wore no mustache) were all of the same, light,
indefinite color; his eyes were small and pale blue, while his lips
were thin and tightly compressed. His face, when at rest, had a
sanctimonious expression which was sadly at variance with the
avaricious, grasping look which it instantly assumed when animated. He
said little, but Houston soon discovered that he was in reality the
head man of the company, while Mr. Wilson was but the mouthpiece.

In the twenty or thirty minutes which elapsed before these gentlemen
could give Mr. Houston their undivided attention, he obtained
sufficient insight into their characters, and enough of an inkling of
their business methods, to make him more determined than ever to
unearth their schemes, and doubly anxious to succeed in the role which
he had assumed.

As soon as they were at liberty, Mr. Wilson and the general manager
turned very smilingly toward their new clerk, and after some questions
regarding his business qualifications and experience, all of which he
answered in a manner very satisfactory, they proceeded to give him
detailed instructions relating to his future duties in the branch
office, at the mining camp.

"Of course," remarked Mr. Wilson, "you understand that as you become
accustomed to the business, greater responsibility will devolve upon
you; for the present, you are to have charge of the books and our
correspondence from that point; and when you have sufficiently
familiarized yourself with the details of the business, we shall
expect you, in Mr. Blaisdell's absence, to take charge of the office,
to receive the reports of the different superintendents and foremen of
the mines, and if necessary, to inspect the work at the mines
yourself, occasionally, in order to see that our instructions are
being carried out."

Houston thought that this included quite a range of work for an
accountant, but as he was only too glad of the opportunities which
would thus be afforded him for his own investigations, he raised no
objections.

"I suppose, Mr. Houston," added Mr. Blaisdell, very deliberately, "it
is unnecessary to say that in a position of this kind, we require the
utmost secrecy on your part regarding the affairs of the company. In
giving you this very responsible position, we repose great confidence
in you, and we expect you to prove yourself worthy of it."

"Oh well," chuckled Mr. Wilson, "I should say, judging by Mr.
Houston's appearance on the train this morning, he understands the art
of preserving a golden silence as well as any one I ever saw. It was
all I could do to get a dozen words out of him."

Mr. Blaisdell smiled in a way that Houston understood he had received
a full account of the meeting on the train. There being little more to
be said, Houston inquired regarding accommodations at the camp,
stating that a young acquaintance of his wished to remain in the
mountains for a week or two.

"Is he interested in mines?" inquired Mr. Blaisdell.

"Oh, no," replied Houston, "he is the young man who informed Mr.
Wilson he was out on an extended pleasure trip, and he imagines it
would be great sport to be out in a genuine mining camp for a while,
as far from civilization as possible."

"That's all right," responded Mr. Blaisdell, "I was only going to
state that we allow no visitors through the mines except those who are
personally interested, or who have intentions of becoming purchasers,
but if your friend merely wants to stop among the mountains for the
fun of the thing, why, he's welcome to stay all summer for aught I
care. As to accommodations, I think we can fix you both very
comfortably. There are two boarding houses near the mines, for the
miners, of course you would not go there; but old Jim Maverick and his
wife run a boarding house about a quarter of a mile from there that is
very good, and is a sort of stopping place for any tourists that find
their way out there. I stop there myself, and I know Maverick and his
wife are glad of all the boarders they can get. I believe they already
had a lady when I was there last week, a school teacher or something
of that sort, who had just come, and I think you will find it very
comfortable there."

Having learned that they would have to start for the camp at eight
o'clock the next morning, Houston took his leave, promising to be in
readiness at that time. He next visited a number of assay offices,
where he learned a good many valuable points regarding the different
classes of ore in that vicinity; then having purchased two or three
works on practical mining and mineralogy, which he thought might be of
assistance to him, he returned to the hotel, where he entertained
Rutherford until dinner with an account of their trip to be taken on
the morrow and the accommodations that awaited them, with the added
attraction of the society of a solitary school teacher, whom their
imaginations already depicted as of uncertain age, with short hair and
spectacles. Many were Rutherford's speculations concerning this
individual.

"I've had the pleasure of the acquaintance of two specimens of that
class," said he, "one was in the Catskill Mountains; she had a
geological fad, and went out every morning with a little hammer, to
hammer among the rocks all day; the other was a botanist, and returned
every evening about covered with plants which she had pulled up, root
and branch; I wonder which of them this one will resemble."

"We shall soon see," said Houston.




CHAPTER VI.


Nearly twenty-five miles from the nearest town, and not a human being
visible from the point of observation occupied by Miss Gladden, as she
slowly swung backward and forward in her hammock under the pines, half
way up the mountain side; and the only sign of human life was a faint,
blue smoke curling upward among the evergreens on one side, at the
base of the mountain.

Directly at the foot of the mountain lay a small lake of azure blue,
at one end of which was a narrow bridge crossing the stream which
formed the outlet to the lake, and from which a footpath wound in the
direction of the solitary house from which the smoke ascended. At the
other extremity of the lake, where the gulch narrowed into a deep
ravine, walled with irregular masses of gray rock, a mountain stream
came dashing down over the ledges, forming a series of cascades, and
with a final leap plunged into the azure waters. It was a wild,
solitary place, and had there been another human being visible, he
doubtless would have been much astonished at the sight of a young
lady, dressed in the height of fashion, lazily swinging to and fro,
half way up the pine covered mountain.

But for Miss Gladden the charm of the situation lay in its solitude;
she was tired of society, and, glad to free herself for a while at
least from its conventionalities, was congratulating herself upon her
good fortune in finding this retreat, all unconscious that others were
already entering into her little world, soon to enter into her heart
and life.

As she swung dreamily under the pines she was aroused by a clear,
musical voice calling her name, and turning, saw the lithe, slender
form of Lyle Maverick, the daughter of her host, rapidly approaching.
Although Miss Gladden had been but a few days among the mountains,
there already existed between her and Lyle Maverick a mutual
admiration, though each was, as yet, unconscious of the admiration of
the other.

Lyle secretly worshipped Miss Gladden as the most beautiful being she
had ever seen, nor was it strange, for Leslie Gladden had all her life
received the homage always yielded to beauty, and from hearts far less
susceptible than that of this untutored child of the mountains; but
Lyle, notwithstanding her surroundings and her disadvantages, was
proud spirited, and did not proclaim her admiration for the beautiful
stranger. Miss Gladden, on her part, admired the imperious mountain
maid, as the loveliest specimen of uncultured, untrained girlhood,
just blossoming into womanhood, that she had ever met. She wondered
how she came to be so unlike her surroundings, and what would be the
result if this wild mountain flower could be transplanted to some more
favorable spot, there to receive the care and nurture bestowed on so
many far less beautiful. She had within the last few days, led by a
desire to know the proud, shy girl, made a companion of her; this was
a new experience for Lyle, and was fast deepening her admiration for
Miss Gladden into confidence and regard.

Miss Gladden watched Lyle now, as she came up the mountain path, as
fleet of foot and graceful in every motion as a deer, her head thrown
proudly back, her wavy hair rippling over her shoulders to her waist,
and shining in the sunlight like fine spun gold.

"Oh, Miss Gladden," she exclaimed, as, having reached the group of
pines, she threw herself carelessly at the foot of one of them, "the
solitude and isolation which you have prized so highly are to be
invaded by two new boarders of masculine gender."

A slight frown gathered on Miss Gladden's face, at the prospect of
intruders thus encroaching upon the mountain retreat which she was
beginning to regard as hers exclusively. Lyle, watching her, saw the
frown, and continued, her eyes dancing with mischief:

"They are city gentlemen, too, from the east; from Chicago and from
Boston, only think of the honor conferred upon us! They have come from
the land of civilization and culture to the wild west, to see how we
barbarians live; at least that is the object of one of them who is out
on a pleasure trip, for that is usually the meaning of western
pleasure trips."

"Lyle, are you not rather severe? They come for the sake of the
scenery, or as I have, for rest."

"A few for rest perhaps, but scenery? nonsense! Look at the majority
of your 'western stories,' as they are called; how much is there in
them of scenery? A few lines here and there, but pages devoted to
descriptions of western life with its ignorance and uncouthness."

"But stories of western life usually contain a great deal of
originality and piquancy; that is why they are popular."

"Possibly," said Lyle dryly, "but I have seen very little originality
in the life I have led here. It may seem original to outsiders; it is
monotonous enough to those who live it, year after year. The scenery
of the west is grand, I love it, and if I could see it with such eyes
as yours, eyes accustomed to beauty in all its infinite kinds and
degrees, and with a mind cultivated, fed on the choicest thought than
can be culled not only from our own country and in our own tongue, but
from other countries and in other tongues as well, I would appreciate
the beauty about me more keenly than I can now; but I despise this
life in which I have been reared, a life of ignorance, coarseness,
brutality and deceit. Here I have lived for the past ten years, here I
am likely to live for ten, twenty years to come."

Both were silent for a few moments, while Miss Gladden watched the
beautiful face, in this instance an index of an equally beautiful
soul, and she marveled more than ever. At last she said gently:

"Lyle, dear, pardon me for asking such a question, but you are an
anomaly; how is it, living all these years as you have, in these
surroundings, that you have so good an education? You have evidently
read considerable, and you converse well; you cannot be called
ignorant."

"No," the girl replied sadly, "I am not quite so ignorant as a
stranger would think to see me, but I have learned just enough to make
me realize how little I do know, and that little I have acquired by
stealth. I could read a very little when we came here from some small
town, somewhere in the east, I have forgotten where, and I wanted to
learn, but father forbade it; he said he wouldn't have any of his
children putting on airs, that what was good enough for him would have
to do for them. He has always been severe with me, I suppose he didn't
want any girls, that's what mother says. Mother was always as kind to
me as she dared to be, but she was afraid to help me to learn
anything, and she couldn't have taught me much anyway. I studied every
little bit of print I could come across, if it were nothing more than
a scrap of newspaper, I was so anxious to be able to read. Then, when
I was about twelve years old, a little girl who stayed here one summer
with her governess, left some of her old, worn-out school books and
writing books. I hid them in my room as carefully as if they had been
diamonds, and pored over them every chance I could get for the next
year. About that time, I got acquainted with one of the miners who had
been here a long time, a strange, silent man, who was very different
from the others, and who kept by himself. He seemed to take a great
liking to me, and I consider him to-day the best friend that I have in
the world. He found out how I was studying and trying to learn, and he
helped me, for he had had a fine education. He bought books for me,
not only school books, but choice books to read, stories, poems and
plays, and he has talked with me a great deal, and told me about
places and people and authors, and so has saved me from being a total
ignoramus."

"How kind!" exclaimed Miss Gladden, "I don't wonder that you consider
him your friend. Is he here now?"

"Yes," replied Lyle, "he has been away for a few days, but he came
back last night, and I went down to his cabin to see him. He brought
me some beautiful books, but I keep them at his cabin most of the
time, so no one at the house will get hold of them."

"Does he live alone?" asked Miss Gladden.

"No, an Irishman, who has a pretty good education, lives with him most
of the time; he is quite a musician and is teaching me to play the
violin. 'Mike' they call the Irishman, and my friend is 'Jack'; the
other miners nicknamed him 'Lone Jack,' but nobody, I suppose, knows
what their real names are."

"Why, how interesting!" exclaimed Miss Gladden. "Why haven't you ever
told me before? It sounds like a story with a deep-laid plot, and a
typical villain lurking somewhere."

"There are plots enough, and villains enough, but Jack is not one of
them," quietly replied the girl, with a curious expression.

"Would he let me come and see him?" inquired Miss Gladden.

"He might, if I asked him, but you would find him very uncommunicative.
He does not care for strangers. He was telling me last night about a
comical, dudish looking fellow whom he saw on the train, and who got
off at Silver City, and he said he was coming up here into the
mountains in company with another young gentleman; he thought I would be
likely to see them, and I think they are the new boarders."

"Why, have you seen them?" asked Miss Gladden, in surprise.

"Yes," laughed Lyle, "one of them, from my post of observation behind
the kitchen door, and he did appear so ridiculous with his gold
eye-glasses, looking as solemn as an owl, and glancing around with
that expression of supercilious curiosity, as though he expected to
find us all wild Indians, or something of the sort."

"Ah, that accounts for the little tirade against western pleasure
tourists I heard when you first came up. Evidently the eye-glasses did
not produce a very favorable impression on you."

"Well," retorted Lyle, "see him yourself, and see what impressions you
will receive."

"Well, my dear," said Miss Gladden, "as it is nearly dinner time, I
would suggest that we adjourn to the house, alleviate these pangs of
hunger, take an observation of the gold eye-glasses and report our
impressions later."

"Agreed," said Lyle merrily, and the two began to descend the
mountain.




CHAPTER VII.


Houston and Rutherford were promptly at the depot, as agreed, to take
the early morning train to the mines.

Mr. Blaisdell met them with a great show of cordiality, his thin lips
contracted into a smile which was doubtless intended to be very
agreeable, but which produced a sensation exactly the reverse.

"Well," Rutherford began, with his peculiar drawl, when he and Houston
were seated together in the car, with Mr. Blaisdell safely engaged in
conversation at a little distance, "I can't say that I'm any more
favorably impressed with Mr. Buncombe, or whatever his name is, than I
was with old Boomerang yesterday. That fellow looked like a silly,
pompous, old fool, and this one like a sly, old villain. I wish he'd
stop that confounded, wolfish grin of his, it makes me feel
uncomfortable, he looks as if he knew he had his prey just dead easy,
and his chops were watering in anticipation. I say, old fellow, I
don't think much of this Buncombe-Boomerang combination of yours, and
I guess it's a good thing I'm along with you till we find out what
sort of a trap we're getting into."

Houston smiled; Rutherford had expressed his own opinion a great deal
nearer than he cared to admit. He had seen enough of the men with whom
he was to be associated to convince him that they were villains,
cowardly villains too, the very sort of men that would be most
desperate and dangerous when cornered; but he was fast laying his
plans, and now the only drawback seemed that he would have no
assistant, and he felt the time would come when he would need one, and
some one familiar with mining. An expert from the east would not do,
he would be suspected; and a detective would not possess the necessary
information regarding mining in general, and these mines in
particular. At times, a vague idea of taking Rutherford into his
confidence came into his mind, but he was not ready to do this yet, if
at all.

All this flashed through Houston's mind as Rutherford made the above
remark, and he answered:

"I don't apprehend any particular danger at present, but I am glad you
are with me."

"The question with me is," continued Rutherford, "how I'll amuse
myself during your office hours in such a region as this; I don't
imagine I'll find a great many congenial companions."

"You seem to have forgotten the school teacher," Houston remarked,
with a quiet smile.

"Oh, bother the school ma'am! I had forgotten her. I suppose she'll be
as graceful as a scalene triangle, and about as entertaining as a
mummy. They're mostly that kind, or else the gushing, adoring sort,
that can't talk of anything but Browning, or Emerson, or theosophy, or
something of that kind; and the most conceited lot of creatures that
ever lived."

Meanwhile, the train wound in and out among the mountains, stopping
for a few moments at a small town where huge smelters were pouring
forth their clouds of dense smoke, darkening the air until it seemed
more like night than day; then on a few miles farther, to the little
station known as the "Y," so-called on account of the form of the spur
tracks owned by the mining company, by which the ore was brought down
from the mines above.

At the station was a store containing general mining supplies, with
the post-office in one front window, a boarding and lodging house, and
three or four saloons and gambling houses, these last designed to
catch the wages of the miners from the surrounding camps.

Mr. Blaisdell having found one of the superintendents who had come
down with a team for supplies, they were soon on their way up the
gulch, and in the course of an hour were left at the office buildings,
while the team went on to the mines.

Here Rutherford waited in the outer room of the little unpainted,
frame building, while Mr. Blaisdell took Houston into the further
room, and introduced him to Morgan, the general superintendent, and to
his work, at the same time. Then, having seen Houston duly installed
at his post of duty, perched on a wabbly stool, before a rickety,
ink-bespattered desk, beside a window gray with the dust and smoke of
ages, through which a few straggling sunbeams fell, Mr. Blaisdell
sailed complacently forth to escort Rutherford to Jim Maverick's
boarding house, whither the baggage had already been taken by the
team; then, all necessary arrangements for rooms and board having been
completed, he went out to the mines, leaving Rutherford alone in the
camp of the Philistines. He found no one, however, more formidable
than Mrs. Maverick, an old woman bent nearly double, with white hair
and hollow, deep-sunken eyes, so faded it was impossible to tell what
their original color might have been, and the "help," a stout,
red-cheeked, coarse-featured girl of fifteen, whom Mrs. Maverick
called "Minty," but who rejoiced in the euphonious name of Araminta
Bixby, and who ogled and grinned at Rutherford until he found the task
of preserving his dignity more difficult than ever.

In the course of an hour he sauntered down to the office to meet
Houston, and a little later the two sat in the porch of the low,
wide-spreading house, partly frame and partly of logs, the roof of the
porch supported by the trunks of slender trees, unhewn, from which
even the bark had not been removed.

From the porch there was a view of the lake, and in the distance the
gleaming cascades, while just opposite, the gulch road followed its
winding course and disappeared among the mountains.

Presently there came up the winding road three men, apparently father
and sons,--low-browed, heavy-eyed, brutal looking creatures,--who
followed the foot path up toward the house, and glaring sullenly at
the young men, shuffled around to the back door.

"Evidently mine host and his sons," remarked Houston.

"Well," replied Rutherford, "I think if I see a few more such
specimens as those, I'll take the first train out. Say though, I
haven't seen a sign of that school teacher, I begin to think she is a
myth."

"Sh!" said Houston quickly, under his breath, "see what you think of
this!"

Rutherford turned in the direction Houston was facing, and had two
beings just then descended from the mythical regions, he could not
have been more astonished than at sight of the pair approaching from
the lake. The first was a young girl, apparently about sixteen, but
tall and well developed, the scant garments that she wore revealing
the beautifully rounded outlines of her form, her carriage free and
every movement full of grace. Her face was exquisitely beautiful, the
features refined and perfect as though chiseled in marble; her eyes
shone with a star-like brilliancy, and her hair fell about her
shoulders like a mass of burnished gold.

Beside her was a woman several years her senior, equally beautiful,
but an altogether different type of beauty; more mature, more perfect
and more rare. Tall and splendidly developed, she moved with a queenly
grace. Her face was classical in its contours, the profile resembling
that of some of the old Grecians, while its beauty was so refined, so
subtile, it could not be easily described. Perhaps the eyes were its
chief attraction; large and dark, and of Madonna-like depth and
tenderness; soulful eyes that reflected every emotion of the pure,
womanly nature, as the calm lake mirrors the sunlit sky or the
lowering storm-cloud, the silvery moon or the lightning's flash. The
wavy, auburn hair, tinged in the sunlight with red gold, was gathered
into a knot near the top of a shapely, well-poised head, while stray
curls clustered rebelliously about the broad, fair brow, forming a
shining aureole.

Like a vision, the pair passed silently into the house, leaving
Rutherford, for once in his life, speechless, and Houston watching
him, apparently enjoying the situation.

"What's the matter, my boy?" he asked, in a low, laughing tone, "Are
you spell-bound?"

"Spell-bound? well, slightly!" responded Rutherford. "Great Heavens,
Houston! do they have such women as those out here?"

"Evidently they have some fine samples of the genuine article, but I
am not prepared to state how large a stock they carry. I'm positive of
one thing though, that within the last three minutes you have changed
your mind about taking the next train out. Not all the desperadoes and
villains you've met from Valley City out, could drive you away from
the mountains now."

"You're right, they couldn't," said Rutherford, with a broad grin,
"not if I know myself; no, sir, when I'm in the line of duty nothing
can scare me out of it worth a cent, and just now I feel it to be my
duty to solve some of the mysteries thickening around me, among them,
that of the mountain nymphs."

"Altogether too substantial for mountain nymphs, my boy," said
Houston, "and you will please remember, while pursuing your line of
duty, that I have vouched for your good behavior here, and am in a
measure responsible for you, and I don't want to get into any trouble
on your account."

Rutherford cleared his throat, and rising slowly with all the dignity
he could muster, looked gravely over his glasses at Houston in exact
imitation of Mr. Blaisdell, and in an oracular tone remarked:

"And you will please remember, my young friend, that I am out here as
your duly constituted guardian, and as such, it is my duty to form the
acquaintance of these--ahem!--these fair daughters of Eve, and judge
for myself whether or not they will be suitable companions for an
unsophisticated youth, like yourself."

"Good!" said Houston, and after a few more jokes, dinner being
announced by the moon-faced Minty, they went in to partake of their
first meal in what Rutherford styled the "Hotel de Maverick."




CHAPTER VIII.


A few moments later, Houston and his friend had been duly presented by
Mrs. Maverick, to Miss Gladden and to "our daughter, Lyle," the former
in a gown of soft, clinging material, of a delicate, golden tint,
combined with a reddish brown velvet, which suited her style of beauty
to perfection; and Lyle, in dainty white apron, her beautiful hair
loosely plaited in an enormous braid, prepared to act in the capacity
of waiter.

Never were guests served so deftly, or with such grace and dignity;
she seemed absolutely free from all coquettish airs, and although the
glances of the two gentlemen were about evenly divided between the
beauty at their side and the fair waitress, Lyle carried herself with
an equanimity that was remarkable. Not until the arrival, later, of
the other boarders, Morgan, the general superintendent, and Haight,
the mining expert,--so-called, though his expertness embraced much
beside mining,--was there any change in her demeanor; then her eyes
flashed, her lips curled, and a look of superb scorn passed over her
face, an expression that reminded Rutherford unaccountably of the face
he had seen at Valley City.

Old Jim Maverick and his sons were not present, having taken their
meal hastily in the kitchen. Beside her husband and sons, poor, old
Mrs. Maverick was positively refined. She was a kind-hearted, motherly
woman, and looked as though, in her younger days, she might have been
very pretty, but poverty, hard work and abuse had very nearly
obliterated all traces of youthful bloom, and her face had a hopeless,
appealing look which was pathetic.

A little later, Mr. Blaisdell arrived, rubbing his hands and smiling
in his usual complacent manner, and he entertained the guests for some
time with anecdotes of western life, some of them very well told, but
in most of which it was noticeable that he bore a very prominent
part.

After dinner, Houston returned to the office in company with Morgan
and the expert, two new characters which he was studying attentively.
The former was a tall, raw-boned individual, with a genial,
good-natured manner, but a weak face; one who would willingly be a
tool for any villain, but an unreliable tool. He would betray his best
friend, and knowing nothing of honor himself, he did not believe in
its existence, among men or women. To him, all men were rogues, all
business simply gambling on a large scale, and his only care was to be
on the winning side.

Haight was a small, dark man, with soft, insinuating manner, and, in
accordance with his pet theory that every person, high or low, rich or
poor, might sometime be useful to him in the furtherance of his own
objects, he treated every one with punctilious politeness. To some his
manner might have been pleasing, but to one with any degree of
penetration, the crafty, scheming nature under the thin veneer was
very apparent.

Meanwhile, Rutherford had rather reluctantly accepted an invitation
from Mr. Blaisdell to go through the mills and visit one or two of the
less important mines. The young easterner was soon much interested,
as, after having explored one of the smaller mines, the Peep
o'Day,--which he thought very appropriately named as he glanced upward
from a depth of a few hundred feet,--he was taken to the mills, and
there saw the various stages through which the ores pass in the
process of reduction. He almost forgot his dislike of Mr. Blaisdell
as he listened to his explanation of the different classes of ore, and
the various kinds of treatment which they required, and met some of
his old college acquaintances,--the sulphates, nitrates, carbonates,
and other members of that numerous family,--in new and startling
array; for Mr. Blaisdell was thoroughly at home in chemistry and
mineralogy, and enjoyed nothing so much as airing the knowledge he
possessed in that one direction. Of other branches of science, and
even on subjects of general information, he was profoundly ignorant,
although blissfully unconscious of the fact.

Rutherford was next shown the method by which the ore ready for
shipment was conveyed down the mountain to the cars on the spur
tracks, hundreds of feet below, by means of a rail tramway on trestle
work, some three thousand feet in length, having a grade of nine feet
per each hundred feet, over which cars of ore were passing, operated
by gravity, the weight and velocity of the descending, loaded car,
carrying the empty car upward. He thoroughly enjoyed these novel
scenes, and congratulated himself upon the many picturesque mining
views which he would add to his collection.

As they were passing through one of the sorting rooms, they came upon
Mr. Haight seated before a large table covered with specimens of ore,
which he was examining with a powerful microscope, while beside him
were various chemical and mechanical appliances for testing the
different ores. Rutherford was enthusiastic in his admiration of the
specimens, particularly those from the copper mines, with their
beautiful coloring,--the blending tints of green and purple and
blue,--and he created considerable amusement by his ecstasies over a
large sample of iron pyrites, which he had mistaken for a splendid
specimen of gold ore. Altogether it was a novel and pleasant
experience for him, and when he joined Houston later, he felt himself
considerably wiser in western lore.

After supper, Mr. Blaisdell and Haight returned to the office for a
private conference regarding some new ores which the latter had been
testing. Morgan strolled down the gulch in the direction of the Y,
drawn by the attractions of the gambling house and dance hall, leaving
the two strangers to seek their own amusement, or to be entertained by
Miss Gladden; they chose the latter, and, since among the mountains as
on the ocean, friendships are quickly formed, the three were soon
chatting as pleasantly, out in the low, rustic porch, as though their
acquaintance dated back a number of days, instead of only a few hours.
At the kitchen door, old Jim Maverick and his sons, with a dozen or so
miners, lounged about, smoking their pipes, and enlivened by the
blushing, giggling Miss Bixby.

With the latter crowd Lyle would never mingle, much to the indignation
of Maverick himself, and the chagrin of two or three would-be
admirers, and not feeling at liberty to join, unasked, the group in
the porch, she withdrew to her little room up-stairs, and taking from
its hiding place one of the new books her friend had brought her,
she was for a while unconscious of everything else. Then, as the
twilight deepened, she closed the book, and having again concealed it,
sat watching the stars just beginning to appear, one by one, and
musing, as she often did, on her own life. Why had she not, with her
passionate love of the beautiful and her thirst for knowledge, been
given the birth and training, the social advantages of any one of
that little group below? Or, if the fates had decreed that she must be
born in such ignorance and degradation, and spend her life in such
surroundings, why had they not given her a nature corresponding to
her environment, as indifferent and unaspiring as that of the
phlegmatic Miss Bixby? Why must she always feel as if she had been
born to a better life than this, when in all probability, it must
always go on in the same old routine which she hated and despised?
She wondered what Jack meant by the questions he had asked her so
often lately, as to where they had lived before coming to the
mountains, and regarding her earliest recollections. Well, what were
her earliest recollections? Something so shadowy she could not
determine whether it were remembrance or imagination; but it was a
vague idea of light and music and beauty; and why was it that when
she heard or read of that bright life, so foreign to her, of which she
had never had one glimpse, that it all seemed somehow half familiar?
She did not believe she would be very awkward or out of place, if she
could step for the first time into some of those bright scenes as
she imagined them; why did it all seem so home-like to her?

Meanwhile, the little group below were discussing the same problem
that Lyle herself was trying to solve.

"I cannot understand," Rutherford was saying, "how such a style of
beauty, so delicate and refined you know, could ever exist in such
surroundings."

"She is a mystery," added Houston, "and unless I am greatly mistaken,
she has a nature as sensitive and refined as her face."

"You are right, Mr. Houston," replied Miss Gladden, "she possesses
a refinement of nature that is wonderful; and not only that, she
has a brilliant intellect if she could only have advantages, and
notwithstanding all the difficulties and obstacles with which she
has had to contend, she has already acquired a fair education, is
remarkably well informed and a good conversationalist."

A few moments later, Lyle was aroused from her revery by a familiar
voice calling her, and coming down stairs, found Miss Gladden awaiting
her.

"You runaway!" she exclaimed, "why have you been hiding when you
should have been helping me entertain the new guests?"

"I didn't think you needed any help," replied Lyle, brightly.

"You never made a worse mistake in your life," said Miss Gladden,
leading the way out on the porch. "I have been trying to tell these
gentlemen something about this country around here, and I have only
succeeded in betraying my own ignorance."

Both gentlemen greeted Lyle pleasantly, and Houston rose and gave her
his chair with a grave, gentle courtesy which was new to her, and
which she was quick to observe and appreciate. For some time they
chatted of the surrounding country, Lyle telling them where the
finest scenery, the best hunting and fishing and the pleasantest
picnic grounds were to be found.

"About a quarter of a mile from here," she said, "in Strawberry
gulch is a small canyon that has been fitted up for tourists and
excursionists, and every summer numerous camping parties come out from
Silver City for a few days or weeks. There is a fine lake at the head
of the canyon, a boat house, and a good supply of boats, tents,
and almost everything needed for camp life."

"Have there been any camping parties yet?" asked Houston.

"Not yet," replied Lyle. "It is too early; they usually begin coming
in July; we are likely to have snow-storms out here in the mountains
yet."

"Snow-storms!" they all exclaimed; "What!" said Miss Gladden, "after
such warm weather as this?"

"Oh, yes," said Lyle, "this is only the early warm weather we always
have in May, but it will be much colder again before summer really
begins in earnest; though the weather is never so severe here as in
the gulches farther up the mountains."

"It seems to me," said Rutherford, "I've heard of the greatest number
of 'gulches' out here, and some of them have the most remarkable
names; very original, certainly."

"Their names are mostly indicative of their early history," Lyle
answered; "there are a number of them in this vicinity,--Last Chance
gulch, Poor Man's gulch, Lucky gulch, Bloody gulch, and so on."

"Has this gulch where we are, any such euphonious title?" inquired
Miss Gladden.

"This one has two names, equally euphonious and equally historical; it
is now called Spotted Horse gulch, but years since it was known as
Dead Man's gulch."

"That sounds cheerful!" commented Miss Gladden.

"Is there a ghost story connected with the gulch, Miss Maverick?"
inquired Houston.

"Yes," said Lyle, "several of them, for the miners are mostly very
superstitious. Years ago, when there were no well developed mines
here, only a few prospects, a man who had just sold one of the
properties, was murdered for his money, about half way between here
and the mines, where the road is so narrow and passes under the
overhanging rocks. He rode a spotted horse, and from the indications
when he was found a few days after, he must have made a desperate
fight, for both he and the horse were shot several times. Ever since,
it has been said that the spotted horse goes up and down the gulch at
night, sometimes alone, and sometimes with his rider, and so the gulch
received its name."

"Is that story still believed here?" asked Houston.

"More or less," replied Lyle. "There is just enough faith in it, that,
excepting Jack," and she nodded slightly to Miss Gladden, "there is
not a miner in camp who could be hired to pass through that part of
the gulch at midnight, for fear of seeing the phantom horse and his
rider."

"Possibly," said Miss Gladden, "it would be well for us to adjourn for
the night, or we may have a glimpse of the phantoms; it must be after
ten o'clock."

"After ten, impossible!" exclaimed Rutherford, springing to his feet;
"I beg your pardon, ladies, for having detained you so long; I never
dreamed it was so late."

"The long twilight here deceives one, I have hardly become accustomed
to it myself," said Miss Gladden.

"The ladies will surely pardon us," said Houston, "since it is through
their making the time pass so pleasantly that we have trespassed."

They separated for the night, and a little later, Mr. Blaisdell and
Haight came up from the office, but Morgan did not return until
daylight was beginning to tinge the eastern sky.




CHAPTER IX.


A number of days passed uneventfully. Houston was occupied in getting
familiarized with the work at the office, having first created an
epoch in the history of that institution by having the windows
thoroughly cleaned.

One of the noted characters of the mining camp was a small boy who,
when he could scarcely walk, had, on account of his fearless spirit
and indomitable pluck, been dubbed with the name of "Bull-dog." The
name was so appropriate, and the little fellow himself so proud of it,
that as he grew older it was forgotten if he ever had any other; if he
had, no one knew what it was. He was now nearly twelve years of age,
as small as most boys of eight or nine, but he possessed the same
spirit as of old. Bull-dog was the oldest of five children; his
parents lived at the Y, a worthless, disreputable pair; he spent very
little time under the parental roof, and filial respect was entirely
left out of his composition, and no wonder! He was a favorite among
the miners, spending much of his time in the camp, and the shrewd
little fellow was very observant of what went on around him, and very
keen and worldly-wise in his judgment of human nature as he found it.

He speedily made the acquaintance of Houston, and when the latter came
down to the office on his second morning, he found the boy awaiting
him, and an idea occurred to him.

"Say, Bull-dog, can you wash windows?" he asked.

"Bet yer life," was the laconic reply, accompanied by a grin.

"What will you charge me for washing these four?"

The small individual surveyed the windows critically, then answered:

"Six bits."

"Go ahead," said Houston, "let's see how good a job you can do."

Two hours afterward the windows were shining, and Houston paid the
little fellow an equally shining dollar, instead of the six bits, thus
making of Bull-dog a friend for life, and one whose friendship
afterward proved of great value.

Nearly every afternoon found Lyle at Jack's cabin, diligently reading
or studying, guarded by Rex, the faithful collie, who would let no one
but Lyle enter the cabin while Jack and Mike were at their work. Two
or three evenings of each week she spent there, reviewing her lessons
with Jack, or listening, either to the stories which he and Mike told
of other countries, or to the music of Mike's violin, fierce and wild,
or sweet and pathetic, according to the mood of the musician. The
cabin, built of logs and plaster, and consisting of two rooms and a
small attic, resembled miners' cabins in general, with the exception
of the second and inner room. Here, the floor was nearly covered with
skins of animals, while on the walls were shelves and brackets,
hand-carved in delicate designs, and filled with books and choice
pictures, beautiful etchings and photographs of various works of art.
A few larger pictures hung on the walls, framed in some of the same
skillfully carved work. The pine table, covered with a brightly
colored spread, was strewn with finely bound volumes, and scattered
about the room were several comfortable folding chairs, which Jack had
bought in some of his trips to Silver City. A rude fireplace had been
built in one side of the room, over which were arranged artistically
two or three rifles, and the heads and horns of various animals, while
on the mantel was a fine collection of ores. Altogether, it was a
pleasant room, and gave more evidence of good taste, education and
refinement than could have been found for more than a score of miles
in that region. This was Jack's sanctum, and none but his two friends,
Lyle and Mike, were ever allowed within it.

In this room, a few evenings after the arrival of the two strangers,
Lyle was sitting with her friends. The weather was already much
cooler, and a bright fire was burning, before which Rex was
comfortably stretched, while he watched the faces of his two friends,
Jack and Lyle, who, having finished their usual reading, were silent
for a few moments, looking into the fire and listening to Mike as he
sat in his corner, his eyes closed, his head bent lovingly over his
violin, while he evoked some of the wild, plaintive airs of his native
country.

Jack was the first to speak, as he asked in a low tone, "You have met
the young men I spoke of the other evening?"

"Yes," replied Lyle, still gazing into the fire, "they are stopping at
the house."

"How long will they remain?"

"The younger one, the one you particularly admired, is to stop for a
few weeks only; the other will probably remain permanently, as he is
bookkeeper for the mining company."

Jack gave an almost imperceptible start, but slight as it was, Lyle
noticed it, and turning quickly, saw a peculiar expression of mingled
surprise, perplexity and annoyance on his usually immobile face.

"Bookkeeper for the mining company!" he exclaimed, "are you sure you
are correct?"

"I can only quote for my authority the Honorable J. O. Blaisdell," she
replied archly, "you surely wouldn't doubt his word under any
circumstances, would you? You look surprised; did you consider Mr.
Houston one of the 'lilies'?"

Jack looked at her inquiringly.

"One of the 'lilies' like Mr. Rutherford," she explained, "who 'toil
not neither do they spin,' I supposed him one at first, but I think
differently now; I believe he would always be a worker of some kind,
whether it were necessary or not; at the same time I don't believe it
is exactly necessary for him to be a bookkeeper."

"You seem to have made a study of him," remarked Jack, quietly.

"Of course," answered Lyle, "what else are my eyes and my small stock
of brains for, but to study everybody and everything that comes in my
way? Besides, it's rather interesting to find a person of some depth,
after such shallow people as Mr. Blaisdell and Haight, and that
class."

"Sometimes, Lyle," said Jack, slowly, "these deep people make a
dangerous study; they are likely to become too interesting."

"Never you fear for me, Jack," said the girl, with considerable
spirit, but kindly, "I know too well how the world would look upon old
Jim Maverick's daughter, to carry my heart on my sleeve."

Both were silent for a moment, Jack watching her face intently. Mike
had left the room. Lyle continued, in a gentler tone,

"Mr. Houston is a perfect gentleman; he would make a safe study for
me, even if I didn't realize my position. He reminds me of you, Jack,
in some ways."

"Of me!" said Jack sarcastically, "your Mr. Houston would doubtless
feel nattered at being compared to a weather-beaten miner."

"You were not always a miner," retorted Lyle quickly, "and you are a
gentleman, and always will be."

"In your opinion, child," said Jack pleasantly; then turning the
subject, he asked, "What do you think of the 'lily' as you styled him,
Mr. Rutherford, I think you called his name?"

"Oh, he is a gentlemanly fellow, not so ridiculous as he looks;
good-hearted, but not deep like the other,--not half so interesting to
study."

"Very well," replied Jack, "go on with your 'study,' but I wish you
would make a little more of a study of yourself and of your own life,"
and as he spoke, he carelessly took up a magazine and began turning
the pages.

"I don't know why," answered Lyle slowly, at the same time going over
to the table where she had caught sight of a photograph which had
evidently been concealed by the magazine, "my life before you became
my friend and teacher would not make an interesting study for any
one.--Oh, Jack, whose picture is this? and when did you get it?"

"That?" said Jack, answering indifferently, but watching her face
keenly, "Oh, that is a picture I've had a great while."

"But, Jack, I never saw it, did I?"

"No, Lyle, I haven't seen it myself for years, until to-night."

"Not for years? how strange!" said Lyle in a low tone; then looking
wistfully at the picture, she said, half to herself, "She must have
been some one you loved some time."

"She was very dear to me," he replied, so quietly that Lyle said
nothing, but remained looking long and earnestly at the photograph. It
was the picture of a young girl, a few years older than herself, but
much more matured, and wondrously beautiful. The features were almost
perfect, and the eyes, even there, seemed so radiant and tender. There
seemed a wealth of love and sympathy in those eyes that touched Lyle's
lonely heart, and her own eyes filled with tears, while she gazed as
if under a spell; then she asked in a sort of bewildered tone:

"Jack, I never saw her, did I?"

"Certainly not while you have been here," he replied, "I cannot say
whom you may have seen before that."

"Before I came here," repeated Lyle dreamily, laying down the picture
and preparing to go, "that is a sort of blank for the most part. It
seems as though this hateful life had obliterated everything before
it; the early years of my life seem buried out of sight."

"Try to resurrect them," said Jack, adding, "Keep your eyes and ears
open, and let me know results. Had I not better go home with you?"

"Oh, no, thank you," said Lyle, smiling brightly, "it isn't late."

"Then Rex must go," and Rex who was only waiting for the word bounded
to the door to signify his readiness.

After Lyle had gone, Jack took the picture, and after looking at it
sadly for a moment, replaced it in the little case in his trunk where
it had lain so long, and then sat down by the fire, muttering,
"Strange she did not see the resemblance! I hoped she would; there
could not be two faces more alike."

All the way home, Lyle was thinking of the beautiful face, wondering
where she had seen it, that it should seem so familiar, and after
dismissing Rex with a caress, she sat for some time in the low porch,
trying to solve the mystery.

"It is no use," she said to herself at length, "it is no face I have
ever seen, unless in some of those strange dreams I used to have."

Going into the house, she found her parents had retired. Rutherford
sat in his room reading, waiting for Houston, who was working late
that night, Mr. Blaisdell having gone back to the city for a day or
two. Miss Gladden was writing in her room, but Lyle would not disturb
her, and going quietly to her own little room, she was soon sleeping
peacefully, and the beautiful face was for a time forgotten.




CHAPTER X.


The next morning was several degrees colder, and there were
indications of a snow-storm. Within doors, the atmosphere betokened a
coming storm, as old Jim Maverick was several degrees more quarrelsome
and ugly-tempered than usual. He glared sullenly at Lyle, as she
stepped quietly about the kitchen, preparing the early breakfast that
he and the boys took before starting for their work.

Finally he growled, "What was you doin' out so late last night? Pretty
time 'twas when you come in, where'd you been?"

Lyle seemed to take no notice of his questions for a moment, then
replied, without a glance at him:

"I was not out late; I went out for a walk early in the evening, and
came back early, but I staid out on the porch."

"Oh," he replied with a sneer, "so you was settin' out there waitin'
for the new clerk to come home, wasn't you?"

"I didn't even know he was out of the house," said Lyle, indifferent
to his sneers, so long as he did not mistrust where she had really
spent the evening.

"Oh, no, of course not! I understand you pretty well, and don't you
forgit it, always puttin' on your damned airs round here, too nice for
any of your own folks; I'd like to see you made a fool of by some of
the dudes you're so stuck on."

"You never will have that pleasure," replied Lyle, coolly, "I know too
well the opinion that people have of you and your family, to ever be
in any danger of being made a fool of."

Old Jim's face grew livid with rage, and he clenched his hand with an
oath, but hearing some of the boarders coming in to breakfast in the
next room, he only hissed, with a terrible leer:

"Never mind, even if you are my child, with that doll-face o' yourn,
you might rope in that rich young feller for a few thousands."

Lyle staggered under the insult as if she had received a blow, and
pale and trembling, went into the next room to wait on the guests. She
was relieved to see that Rutherford was not there; she felt she could
not have faced him while those words of her father's were ringing in
her ears. There was only Mr. Houston, who greeted her with his usual
gentle courtesy, and Morgan, whom she despised.

Out in the kitchen, however, her cause was being championed by Mrs.
Maverick, the fire flashing from her faded eyes, as she talked in a
manner very unusual for her.

"You may abuse me as much as you like, Jim Maverick," she was saying,
"I've had nothing but abuse from you for the past twenty years, and I
don't never expect nothing else, but if you ever lay a hand on that
girl, or speak to her like that again, you'll be sorry for it. I can
make you smart for it, and you know it, and I'll do it too."

The boys, Joe and Jim, aged respectively twenty and eighteen, stared
at their mother in astonishment, but their father, several shades
paler, ordered them from the house; then advancing toward his wife,
shaking his fist and cursing her, he exclaimed:

"You damned old fool! do you think you can try to scare me? you'll
find 'tain't very healthy business for you."

"Kill me, if you want to," she replied doggedly, "but you'll find it
won't make you any better off; I've fixed you for that."

"What do you mean?" he asked, now thoroughly frightened.

"Mean!" said his wife, as she saw that she at last had the brute in
her power, "it means that you've got to let that girl alone, and
behave yourself to me, or you'll wish you had, that's all."

Just then, Minty entered on the scene, her round eyes wide open with
astonishment, and Lyle entering an instant later from the breakfast
room, Maverick slunk away to his work.

Meanwhile, the other boarders were gathering in the breakfast room,
Miss Gladden and Rutherford being the last to enter.

"Whew!" exclaimed the latter, rubbing his hands, "this seems a little
wintry, doesn't it? Looks like a storm, too!"

"Yes," said Morgan, glancing up, "we'll probably have a snow-storm
before noon."

"How do you pleasure seekers intend to spend the day?" inquired
Houston, addressing Miss Gladden and Rutherford.

"I think I shall spend it beside the fire," replied Miss Gladden,
shivering slightly, and sitting down for a moment beside the little
box stove, where a wood fire was crackling and spluttering; "I haven't
quite decided what to do, because I didn't come out here prepared for
snow-storms."

"I believe," said Rutherford, "I'll take a day off and develop some of
the pictures I've taken lately, and sort over my collection of
views."

"That will be delightful," exclaimed Miss Gladden, smiling brightly at
Lyle who had entered the room in time to hear Rutherford's remark, "We
will make Mr. Rutherford entertain us with his collection, won't we
Lyle?"

Lyle smiled in assent, but Miss Gladden very quickly detected traces
of trouble in her face, and determined, if possible, to gain her
confidence, and find the cause. Rutherford also noticed the change in
her appearance, and remarked, after she had again left the room:

"Miss Maverick doesn't look like herself this morning, I wonder what
is the matter."

"I think there has been a storm of some kind in the kitchen," Houston
replied, "I heard pretty loud talk when I first came in."

"Yes," said Morgan, joining in the conversation, "she and the old man
have some high old times, once in a while; and one thing is curious,
the girl never seems afraid of him, and that's more than can be said
of many of the men around here."

"Why," asked Houston, "is he considered dangerous?"

"He is a pretty tough customer," said Morgan, "I guess there's no job
too dirty for him to do, if he's only paid for it;" and then added
carelessly, "that's the kind of a man Blaisdell likes to have 'round
once in a while."

"What does he do?" asked Houston, "does he work in the mines?"

"He used to," replied Morgan, "but he don't do any more underground
work, he--"

"Doesn't he?" interrupted Haight, with a peculiar emphasis.

"Oh, yes, in some ways, plenty of it," laughed Morgan, "but I was
speaking of the mines; he's a sort of foreman now in one of 'em, and
tends to the sorting of the ore occasionally; helps Haight out
sometimes, when he has a particularly delicate job on hand," and
Morgan winked across the table at the expert, who smiled knowingly in
return.

Lyle coming into the room again, the talk regarding Maverick ceased,
but when she had left, Morgan continued:

"She's a queer girl; she gives it to the old man sometimes, up and
down; the boys don't dare give him any lip, but she's no more afraid
of him, than--"

"Than she is of you," again interrupted Haight, with a smile that
seemed to discompose Morgan considerably, for he colored and bit his
lip.

Miss Gladden looked annoyed, as did Houston, and Rutherford, feeling
something was amiss, unintentionally said about the worst thing he
could just at that moment.

"I think Miss Maverick is an awfully nice girl."

"We all think so," said Haight, in his blandest manner, "Mr. Morgan
especially."

"Oh," said Morgan, angrily, but trying to speak indifferently, "she's
nice enough, as nice as girls of her class generally are."

With a look of scorn and contempt that neither Haight nor Morgan soon
forgot, Miss Gladden rose from the table and left the room, while
Rutherford exclaimed indignantly:

"Whatever 'her class' is, she is deucedly your superior, you
contemptible puppy!"

Lyle just then entering, there was an ominous silence for an instant;
then Houston, rising from the table, remarked in a cool, even tone:

"There has been enough said for the present, but" turning toward
Morgan and Haight, "I've something to say to you two, a little
later."

Morgan put on his hat and started sullenly for the office, but Haight,
assuming his most ingratiating smile, stepped up to Houston, and, in a
low tone, began to apologize. Houston interrupted him.

"There is no need of any words here," he said coldly, "I shall call on
you at the sorting rooms this morning, and shall then have something
to say to you, but I wish no words from you, at all," and retiring to
his room, he left Haight in a state of considerable trepidation. He
hurried after Morgan, and soon overtook him.

"I say," he began, "we've got that new fellow stirred up, and I wish
we hadn't; I don't want any trouble."

"Hang you, you little, sneaking coward!" answered Morgan, "if you
didn't want trouble, why didn't you hold your tongue? Whatever fuss
there is you've kicked up yourself, with your own smartness, so what
are you whining about?"

"Oh, well, you know my principles, Morgan; I never want quarrels with
anybody; you know the old saying, 'the good will of a dog is better
than--'"

"Oh, shut up!" said Morgan, "you make me tired! You're a damned
coward, and that's all there is about it. It's my opinion, though, in
the case of this dog, that his bark is a good deal worse than his
bite."

Meanwhile, Houston was preparing to go to the office.

"Say, old boy," said Rutherford, "hadn't I better go down with you?
You may have some trouble, you know, and I shouldn't wonder if they
would be two pretty nasty fellows to meddle with."

"Much obliged, Ned," said Houston, "but I can take care of those two
fellows, and twenty more just like them. Haight is an out and out
coward, he wouldn't fight any more than he would cut his own throat.
Morgan would show fight, perhaps, but I'd finish him up before he even
knew where he was."

"I guess I put my foot in it, saying what I did," said Rutherford,
staring through his eye-glasses in a meditative manner, "but it did
make me hot, their insinuating things in that way about such a nice
little girl as Lyle, and before Miss Gladden, too."

"There will be no more of it, that is certain," replied Houston
decidedly, and he was gone.




CHAPTER XI.


A few moments later, Houston stepped briskly into the office. Morgan
sat at his desk, sorting some mining reports, and looked up with a
sullen, defiant glance, but Houston ignored him, and going to his own
desk, began making preparations for his day's work.

Bull-dog, who, since washing the windows, had constituted himself
office boy, had built the fire and was now sweeping. Houston greeted
him pleasantly, but his keen eyes at once detected trouble between
Houston and Morgan, and he was immediately on the alert.

After the little fellow had finished his work, and Houston supposed he
had gone, he walked with a firm, decided step, over to where Morgan
stood lounging and looking out of the window. Morgan turned, and angry
as he was, he could not help a feeling of admiration for the splendid,
athletic form standing, firm as a rock, before him. Houston's keen,
dark eyes looked straight into his own, and for a moment, not a muscle
of his face moved, the finely cut features might have been chiseled in
stone; then he spoke, in even, measured tones, cold and cutting as
steel itself:

"Mr. Morgan, I have this much to say to you, and it will be well for
you to remember it; that if I ever hear another insinuation against
that young lady of whom you were speaking this morning, or an
improper word of any kind in the presence of either of those ladies at
the house, I will put you in such shape, that you will not be able to
come to the office for a week; and more than that, there will be no
office work here for you."

"What do you mean by that last threat?" asked Morgan defiantly.

"I mean just this; that I know enough about you, that if I should
repeat what I know to Mr. Blaisdell, you would not remain in this
office one day longer."

Morgan grew pale. "You seem to know a great deal for a man that's been
here no longer than you have. I suppose Lyle Maverick has been filling
you up with stuff about me."

"She has never mentioned your name to me, and you will do well not to
bring her name into this conversation."

"Seems to me you're wonderfully particular about old Jim Maverick's
girl," Morgan sneered, "I suppose you want her for yourself, though I
should think the other one--"

Morgan never finished his sentence; a blow that he afterwards said was
"worse than the kick of a mule," had closed one eye.

With an oath, he made a terrible lunge toward Houston, but he knew
nothing more until about fifteen minutes later, when he found himself
lying on the floor, under the long desk, on the opposite side of the
room, while Houston stood a few feet away, watching him.

"You dirty contemptible cur!" said Houston, "do you think because you
have no sense of honor, because you are so vile you can have no idea
of what purity means, that every one is like yourself? You deserve to
be kicked like a dog; come out from there and fight, why don't you?"

"I don't believe I'm very anxious to, if you'd just as soon excuse
me," said Morgan, who had gradually assumed a sitting posture, and was
passing his hand over his eye and jaw. Then, looking up with as much
of a grin as he could muster, with his rapidly swelling face, he
said, "Give it up, Houston; you're a better man than I am; I'll let
you boss this ranch."

"Do you mean," asked Houston sternly, "that from this time there will
be no more insinuations against ladies, and no innuendoes in their
presence?"

"Yes, I agree," said Morgan, "I'll never say anything myself, and I'll
smash any other fellow that does; I think," he added, reflectively,
"that you've showed me how pretty well, though I'd a little rather
you'd practiced on some other fellow, Haight, for instance."

"I'll attend to Haight," said Houston, helping Morgan to his feet, and
smiling grimly at the figure he made.

An hour later, Houston presented himself at the sorting rooms, where
Haight met him with many smiles, offering to show him through the
rooms.

"Another time will do, Mr. Haight," said Houston coldly, "I have
business with yourself this morning."

"Oh, yes," said Haight, as if the thought had just occurred to him,
"that unfortunate business at the table this morning; Mr. Houston, I
am more than sorry for what happened, and assure you, that, so far as
I am concerned, it shall never occur again."

"It will be much better for your interests that it should not,"
replied Houston; "I have not been in the habit of hearing such
insinuations against ladies, or such language in their presence; and
there is something more I have to say to you," he continued, as he saw
Haight was trying to speak; "you were bookkeeper for the company, for
a while, were you not?"

"Certainly," replied Haight in a tone of surprise, "I kept the books
for a few months last year."

"So I have been informed since coming here, and I wish to state that
the other day I had occasion to refer to some of the old books kept by
you, and I very soon found evidences of a few shady transactions on
your part that I think you would not care to have come to the
knowledge of the company."

"You must be mistaken, Mr. Houston," said Haight, trying to preserve a
calm exterior, but paling visibly; "it must have been some of Mr.
Johnson's work you found."

"No, Mr. Haight," said Houston firmly, "it was your own work, in your
own writing, and very bunglingly done at that; a man would not need to
be an expert accountant,--and that is what I am,--to detect the
fraud."

"Mr. Houston," interrupted Haight, in trembling tones, "everything
here shall be as you wish, and I will help you too,--I can be of
use to you,--if you will just say nothing. There were certain
circumstances that I cannot now explain, that justified the
transactions you allude to; and as I have told you, I regret what
occurred this morning, and it shall not be repeated. But really,
Mr. Houston," he continued, "I had no idea that my teasing Morgan
this morning would have such an effect; you see, what I was joking
about was really to Miss Maverick's credit; it seems that a few
weeks ago, he was rather smitten with her and attempted to be what she
thought was a little too familiar, and she gave him a black eye,
and--"

"He has another one now," said Houston, rising abruptly.

"Indeed!" exclaimed Haight.

"Yes, and there will be more black eyes if there are any more
insinuations of that character," and Houston returned to the office,
leaving behind him a bitter enemy, but one whose enmity would be
concealed by a cloak of friendship.

Meanwhile, while Houston was pursuing his chivalric course, Miss
Gladden, sitting by the fire in the deserted breakfast room, was
planning in what way and by what means she could best help her young
friend in whom she felt such an interest. The scene at the table had
given her a new insight into Lyle's surroundings; the rudeness and
insult to which the beautiful girl was likely to be subjected in such
a home, the possible dangers to which she might also be exposed, and
she was more than ever determined to win the confidence of the
reserved, proud-spirited girl.

In the midst of her reflections, Lyle entered the room, and Miss
Gladden saw there were still traces of trouble in her face.
Unconscious of the friends who were beginning to care for her welfare,
Lyle had felt that morning as though she could endure her life there
no longer. She had felt by a sort of instinct that she was in some way
connected with the talk at the table, and she knew that both Morgan
and Haight would not hesitate to injure her by their insinuations, in
retaliation for the manner in which she had met their advances.
Thirsting for human sympathy, her heart quickly responded to Miss
Gladden's words, as she told Lyle of her interest in her, her sympathy
for her, and her desire to help her, and in reply to one or two
questions, she spoke freely of the trials she had suffered, inevitably
connected with a life such as hers, and touched by the kindness of her
new-found friend, Lyle continued:

"The insults and insinuations of those men, and others like them,
are bad enough, but I expect nothing else from such as they, but
when one receives insult from the source where one would expect
protection,--that is hardest of all," and with flushed cheeks and
quivering lips, Lyle related the scene with her father, and his
words to her, while Miss Gladden looked inexpressibly shocked.

"I was almost desperate this morning," she said in conclusion, "I felt
as though I could not live such a life any longer; I must go
somewhere, anywhere, to get away from it. Mother says that nothing of
that kind shall ever happen again, that father is in her power in some
way, and she will not let him abuse me; but it is this whole wretched
life that I despise, if I could only be freed from that!"

"I hope, dear, your life will not always be like this," said Miss
Gladden, "it shall not be if it is in my power to prevent it; perhaps
I may be able to brighten it in some way."

"You have already," said Lyle gratefully, "I shall be happy now, as
long as you are here; after you are gone away,--" she shuddered
slightly, then added, "who knows what may happen before that time?"




CHAPTER XII.


A few hours later, a wild, mountain storm was raging outside, the wind
roaring down the canyon from the icy fields above, driving the fast
falling snow in every direction, with blinding fury.

Within doors, however, a happy group were seated around the fire,
oblivious of the storm outside, or with just enough consciousness of
its fury to add to the enjoyment of the warmth and comfort inside.

Miss Gladden was, as usual, becomingly gowned in a house dress of
rich, warm color, while she had persuaded Lyle to put on a dark blue
dress of her own, which, with a very little change, fitted as though
originally intended for her, and also to dress her beautiful, golden
hair high on her head, thus producing a change in her appearance which
astonished even Miss Gladden herself.

The perfectly fitting gown revealed the outlines of her well developed
and finely proportioned form; its color seemed to enhance the delicacy
of her face and the brilliancy of her eyes, while the graceful
coiffure showed to good advantage the beautifully shaped head, and
added to her dignity. She seemed suddenly to have been transformed
from shy, reserved girlhood, to graceful, royal womanhood.

As she, with Miss Gladden, entered the room where Rutherford awaited
them, that young gentleman started suddenly, and turning, gazed at the
regal little beauty, with her golden coronet, in undisguised
admiration, much to the amusement of both ladies.

"Great Cæsar!" he exclaimed, "what metamorphosis is this? Excuse me,
Miss Maverick, I really couldn't help it; I thought you were a sort of
little girl, you know, and you are,--begging your pardon,--a very
beautiful young lady."

Both ladies laughed merrily, and Miss Gladden secretly resolved that
Lyle, in the future, should always be dressed becomingly, if her
influence could accomplish anything in that direction.

The afternoon passed very pleasantly in looking over the beautiful
views which Rutherford had collected since he left his distant,
eastern home. The pictures taken among the mountains had developed
finely, and they all grew enthusiastic over them. Then there were
pictures of his friends, in groups and singly, and in laughable
combinations and positions; among them, some which Rutherford had
taken of his friend, Tom Durston, and his family, at the ranch where
he had stopped over night on his way out. There was one of Tom
himself, in a futile attempt to milk a refractory cow, where he lay
sprawling ingloriously upon the ground, the milk bucket pouring its
foaming contents over him, the excited cow performing a war dance,
while two others, more peaceably inclined, looked on in mild-eyed
astonishment: chickens were flying in every direction, with
outstretched necks and wings, while in the background, a company of
geese were hissing their disapproval of the scene.

The girls laughed until the tears were in their eyes. "How did you
ever get such a picture? and so perfect!" they asked.

"Oh, I just happened to," he answered, "I was out that morning, with
my kodak all ready, looking for a subject, and I saw Tom milking, and
thought it would be fun to take a picture of him to send back to the
class-boys, you know; I held the kodak up and was just ready--when
that old cow sent him flying quicker than lightning, and I caught the
picture all right. I'm going to mail him one copy."

There was a picture of Tom's baby, taking his bath, his mouth wide
open and his eyes shut, crying lustily for his mother, who had
deserted him to run to Tom's assistance. Then there were pictures of
Rutherford's home and friends, among them, that of a brother, older
than himself, which particularly attracted Lyle's attention; she
looked at it long and earnestly. He was sitting in an easy attitude,
smoking a cigar, and looking at the face of a beautiful, dark-eyed
girl, of about her own age, which appeared above him, encircled by
the light clouds of smoke,--just the face and no more. Rutherford
stated that it was his brother and their only sister, and explained
the process by which it was taken, but the picture remained in Lyle's
memory for many a day.

After a while, Houston, returning a little early on account of the
storm, joined them, and the four friends spent the most enjoyable
evening which they had yet known together, notwithstanding the storm.

It had been an eventful day. To Lyle, and one or two of the others, it
was the beginning of a new life, though they did not then realize it;
the first, faint flush that heralds the coming of the sun to brighten
the new day, but which is so subtle and silent, that few are aware of
its presence.

Houston, on his return to the house at noon, had given, in answer to
Rutherford's eager inquiries, an account of the "skirmish" as he
called it. Rutherford was so proud of his friend, and of the victory
he had won, that at the first opportunity, he told the story to Miss
Gladden, before Houston had even returned to the office. Miss Gladden
was enthusiastic in her admiration of the course he had taken, so
different from many of the young men she had known in wealthy,
aristocratic circles, in thus defending a poor, friendless girl,
subject to insult because she had the misfortune, under such
circumstances, to be beautiful; and obeying the impulses of her
noble-hearted, high-spirited nature, she went to Houston, as she saw
him standing alone a few minutes after dinner, and extending her hand,
with a bright smile, said:

"Sir Knight, I want to thank you, in Lyle's name and my own, for the
chivalric course you have taken this morning."

She could get no further; Houston, still holding her hand, interrupted
her.

"Do not thank me, Miss Gladden; I have only done what it is the duty
of every true man to do."

"Then," said Miss Gladden, interrupting him in turn, "true men must be
exceedingly rare. I know very few, Mr. Houston, who would champion
the cause of a girl in Lyle's circumstances, in the manner you have
done," and then, with much feeling, she spoke of some of Lyle's
trials, and of her own determination to help her.

A beautiful woman is never so lovely as when defending the cause of
some sister less fortunate than herself, and Houston thought he had
never seen Miss Gladden so beautiful as at that moment, and the
thought must in some way have conveyed itself to his eyes, for there
was something in his glance that brought a bright color to Miss
Gladden's cheek, and an added tenderness to her soulful eyes;
something that remained with her all that day, and somehow made life,
even in the heart of the mountains, shut out from the rest of the
world, look more inviting, more alluring than it had ever done
before.

With Houston, also, the memory of those eyes with their depths of
tenderness, and the hand whose touch had thrilled him with its
magnetism, lingered, and brightened all that stormy afternoon.

To Lyle, this day seemed the beginning of a new epoch in her solitary,
isolated life. For the first time, she had found genial companionship,
human sympathy and love, and chivalrous protection; for Miss Gladden
had hastened to tell her of the part Mr. Houston had taken in her
defense; and as the slowly maturing bud suddenly unfolds in the
morning sunlight, so in the new light and warmth which she had found
that day, her nature had suddenly expanded into mature, conscious
womanhood.

That evening, as the little group of friends were separating for the
night, Miss Gladden having already gone up-stairs, Lyle, with a new
dignity and grace, walked over to where Houston stood by the fire,
with dreamy, thoughtful eyes.

"Mr. Houston," said she, in low, sweet tones, "Miss Gladden has told
me of your kindness toward me to-day, and though she has thanked you
for us both, yet I wish to thank you personally."

"Miss Maverick," he replied in his grave, gentle manner, "you are more
than welcome to any kindness I can do for you, but do not thank me for
what I did to-day; that was nothing, I would have been a beast not to
have done that little."

"If you could know," she said, earnestly, "how rare such kindness and
protection have been in my past life, you would realize that it does
not seem like 'nothing' to me."

To Houston, Lyle seemed much less mature than Miss Gladden, and though
he had been quick to observe the added charm in her manner that
evening, still she seemed to him little more than a child. Her words,
and something in the expression of those star-like eyes, touched him
deeply, and taking her hands in his, he answered tenderly:

"My dear child, I am very sorry for the loneliness of your past life,
and I want you, from this time, to regard me as a brother, and if
there should be any way in which I could protect you, or help you, do
not hesitate to tell me freely."

For the first time in all those weary years within her recollection,
Lyle went to her rest that night with a heart satisfied; for as yet,
only the surface of her affections had been stirred, and the hidden
depths below were still unfathomed, awaiting the influence of some
mightier power.




CHAPTER XIII.


The snow-storm detained Mr. Blaisdell in the city rather longer than
he intended, and Houston had improved the time in going over all the
old books and office records which were available.

The books of the company he could examine at his leisure, on some
pretext or other, in Morgan's presence, but his extra work, which had
occupied his evenings, consisted in going over the old letter files,
mining reports and assay statements, making copies of whatever he
found that would be of value to him later. He had found evidence of
fraudulent transactions in the books of the company, and of these he
had made careful memoranda, but so far, the greatest amount of
evidence which he had secured, had been discovered in the old letters
written by Mr. Blaisdell to other members of the company at Silver
City, and received by him in return. These were copied exactly into a
set of small books which he had brought for that purpose, and he had
also made tracings and blue print copies of plats and maps of the most
important mines, and of the plans of their underground workings.

What he now particularly desired was some turn of affairs that would
necessitate his visiting the mines, and give him an opportunity to
become familiar with their workings, and that, in some way, he could
gain access to the books and papers of the main office at Silver City,
as he would there find records of the business transacted directly
with the company in New York. He had taken the precaution to bring
with him copies of letters on file in the New York offices, but he now
felt that much of the most important evidence was contained in the
office at Silver City, and was the missing link which he would need
before going much farther, and as he sat at his desk one bright
morning, a few days after the storm, mentally reviewing the whole
situation, he was planning how he could best secure this also.

Morgan, still carrying a few scars, sat with his legs crossed on top
of his table, reading a newspaper, when the door opened, and Mr.
Blaisdell entered.

"Well, boys, good-morning," was his greeting, as he glanced quickly
around the office, and Morgan's feet suddenly descended to the floor.
"What's the matter with your eye, Morgan?"

"Oh, nothing, been sparring a little, that's all."

"Been down to the mines this morning?"

"No, sir, not yet; I thought maybe you'd be up and want to give some
directions before I went down."

"Very considerate!" remarked Mr. Blaisdell sarcastically, "you know I
would come to the mines myself, anyway, and could give directions
there just as well as here. Get ready to go down there with me, I'm
going in a few minutes."

Going over to Houston's desk, he glanced hastily over the books, gave
some instructions, and saying that he wished to see him later, went
out to join Morgan.

"Morgan, how did you get that eye?" he asked again.

"Oh, Houston and I had a little set-to the other day, and he hit me
pretty hard, that's all."

"What was it about?" demanded Mr. Blaisdell.

"Nothing much," answered Morgan, carelessly, "we had some words about
that girl of Maverick's; I guess he's a little stuck on her himself,
and was afraid I'd be in his way, or something of the kind; I got mad
and hit him, or tried to, and he gave me a knock-out."

"I was going to say that he doesn't look as though you had hit him
very hard," remarked Mr. Blaisdell dryly, and then continued, "Well, I
don't see the use of coming to blows over Maverick's girl, or any
other for that matter, they're not so scarce as all that. Jim's girl
has got a pretty face, but she isn't worth fighting about, that I can
see."

There were reasons for Mr. Blaisdell's superior indifference to Lyle's
attractions, as she had been compelled more than once, in a most
emphatic manner, to check attempts at undue familiarity on his part,
notwithstanding the fact that he was a much-married man, living with
his third wife, his table surrounded with "olive plants"--fifteen in
number--of all sizes and descriptions, and regarded in the bosom of
his family as a model husband and father.

Late in the afternoon, Mr. Blaisdell returned to the office, looking
very weary and somewhat worried. Morgan remained at the mines the rest
of the day. Mr. Blaisdell went over the books with Houston, and after
expressing considerable satisfaction at the work which he had
accomplished, he sat down by himself, and seemed lost in thought for
some time. At last he said:

"Mr. Houston, I've been thinking for some time that we need a little
extra help in the office at Silver City, and yet not enough that it
has seemed advisable to employ another bookkeeper. Our books there are
getting behind, and a little mixed, too, I'm afraid. Mr. Lewis, our
bookkeeper, is quite an old man, and he has charge of two or three
sets of books for the different companies, and it is not to be
wondered at if he occasionally gets a little confused; and it occurred
to me while sitting here, that perhaps you might be willing to come
down, for a day or two, and straighten out the books for us."

Houston seemed for a moment to be weighing the matter very deliberately.

"Of course I could do it," he replied, "but it would involve
considerable extra time and expense for me, and I would want extra
compensation."

"Oh, of course," responded Mr. Blaisdell, readily, "I understand that;
indeed, I was going to remark that you have already accomplished so
much work, and your methods seem to be so exact and, at the same time,
expeditious, that we will consider your term of probation here at an
end; we agreed to raise your salary at the end of the month, if your
services were satisfactory; they are eminently so, and I will take the
responsibility of paying you one hundred and twenty-five dollars for
this first month also. As to your fare back and forth between here and
Silver City, of course we will pay that."

"Then," said Houston, smiling and inwardly congratulating himself, "I
do not see but that it is settled that I go to Silver City whenever
you are ready."

"Very well," said Mr. Blaisdell, "you will not need to go down there
for ten days or so, as the time will make no appreciable difference in
the state of affairs there, and I shall need you here during that
time, as some parties are coming out from the east to look at some
mining properties, and both Morgan and myself will probably have to
spend most of our time at the mines."

That evening, at the boarding house, Houston sat apparently interested
in a game of chess between Miss Gladden and Rutherford, but in
reality, paying close attention to a conversation carried on in low
tones between Mr. Blaisdell and Morgan. Only an occasional sentence
was audible, but he could gather enough to satisfy himself regarding
the nature of their plans.

"Clean the rubbish out of the shaft, and set a couple of men to work
there for a day or two," Mr. Blaisdell was saying; a few words were
lost, and then he said, "Whenever I hear what day they are coming up,
we'll put on a good force."

"They'll have their own expert with them, I suppose?" asked Morgan.

"Yes," answered Mr. Blaisdell, "but if he's like the most of those
eastern experts, Haight and I can fix him very easily."

A little later the conversation ended, Mr. Blaisdell saying, as he
rose to go to his room:

"It is a confoundedly poor property, but I think a few tons of ore
from the Yankee Boy will sell it all right."

This remark gave Houston considerable food for reflection, as the
Yankee Boy was one of the richest properties owned by the New York
company. He had that day received his first letter from his uncle, in
New York, sent under cover of an envelope from the Chicago firm, and
written in reply to a letter from himself mailed immediately upon his
arrival at the mines; and Mr. Blaisdell and Morgan having left,
Houston retired to his room to make his first report of the
information he had secured and seemed likely to secure, concerning the
ways and means of the western mining company; leaving the chess
players deep in their game, and Lyle watching them.

Lyle, though keeping up her studies afternoons, had not been down to
Jack's cabin since the evening he had shown her the picture, partly on
account of the storm, and partly because she feared her father might
be watching her.

Jack had wondered at her absence, thinking perhaps her new friends had
something to do with it; but on this night, Jack had other company, as
Bull-dog had ensconced himself in Mike's chair beside the stove, and
having also appropriated Mike's briar pipe,--its owner being
absent,--was smoking with all the gravity and self-possession of an
old-timer, and entertaining Jack with his quaint talk.

"Say," he said at last, clasping his hands about his knee, and holding
the pipe between his teeth, "have ye seen that new feller up at the
orfice. Mister Houston, they call him?"

Jack replied, very indifferently, that he had seen him once or twice.

"Well, now, he's a Joe-dandy, a regular cracker-jack; an' he's goin'
ter be boss of that whole shootin' match, Morgan an' that little,
black, snaky feller, an' old Blaisdell, too, if he don't look out fer
hisself."

"What makes you think so?" asked Jack, much amused.

"I don't think so, I know it. He's got more sand than all the rest of
'em put together, an' he ain't afraid of nobody. 'D ye hear 'bout that
fight that him 'n Morgan had?"

"No, did they fight?" inquired Jack, much surprised.

"Did they fight!" exclaimed the little Arab, removing the pipe from
his mouth, and shaking his head with evident satisfaction at the
remembrance of the scene, "well, I should smile! Morgan, he tried hard
enough ter fight, but the other feller did him up in 'bout the
sixteenth part of a second!"

"Were you there?" asked Jack, laughing.

"I was peekin' through a crack in the door; they s'posed I'd gone, but
I see somethin' was up when Mister Houston first come in, an' I just
makes up my mind I'll see the fun through, an' when I goes out, I
bangs the door hard, and then opens it agin, careful like, and peeks
in; an' Mister Houston, he had walked over ter where Morgan was, an'
had lit into him 'bout somethin' or ruther he'd ben sayin', an' if he
didn't lay down the law ter him, I'll eat my hat. An' then Morgan he
sets out to give him some of his lip, and by Jiminy! 'fore he could
spit the words out, biff! comes a stunner right in his face, and shut
one eye. My, wasn't he mad though! Then he goes ter give the other
feller a punch in the head, an' Houston, he ducked the purtiest ye
ever see, and let out a blow at Morgan's jaw, an' gee-whizz! Morgan
goes a flying across the room, and lan's under the big desk, and he
never come to fer 'bout twenty minits. My, but 'twas the slickest
knock-out ye ever see, Corbett couldn't a done it slicker hisself! an'
I rolled down them steps a laughin' so I 'most died. I went back after
he'd come to, an' Mister Houston was a tellin' him ter come out an'
fight, but he didn't seem ter wan'ter very bad, an' I see the fun was
over, so I come away."

Jack had laughed heartily over Bull-dog's description of the scene;
now he asked:

"What was the fight about?"

"Well," said Bull-dog, gravely replacing his pipe in his mouth, "'s
near 's I could make out, 'twas 'bout some girl."

"What girl?" inquired Jack, rather quickly.

"Well, the new feller, he didn't call no names, but I heerd Morgan say
somethin' 'bout Lyle Maverick, an' so I guess 'twas her, but I knew
you was always kinder sweet on her yourself, an' so I wasn't goin' ter
say nothin', 'cause, 'nless you're a scrapper, you won't stand no sort
of a chance with that feller."

"All right, Bull-dog," said Jack, "I'm something of a 'scrapper'
myself, but I don't expect to get into any trouble;" the tone was
kind, and he spoke with a half smile, but the keenly observant eyes of
the boy detected a shade on Jack's face. However, all conversation was
suddenly checked by the entrance of Mike, who, in a manner more
forcible than ceremonious, dispossessed Bull-dog of his chair and
pipe. The little waif soon took his departure, but it was some time
before the cloud on Jack's brow was dispelled.




CHAPTER XIV.


For the next day or two, Houston saw very little of either Mr.
Blaisdell or Morgan, as they spent most of their time at the mines,
but his own work was greatly increased, as copies of mining reports
regarding the Sunrise mine, and duplicate sets of statements of the
assay values of samples of ore taken from its various shafts, were to
be made out with the greatest care. There were tracings and blue
prints to be made from the original plats, by which it was to be shown
that the vein of the Sunrise mine was but an extension of that of the
Morning Star, one of the famous North Star group of mines; and there
were also very important and strictly confidential letters to be
written, under Mr. Blaisdell's directions, to the Silver City office,
more particularly to Mr. Rivers, the secretary of the company, whom
Houston had not yet seen.

The Sunrise mine which was suddenly looming up into such prominence,
was one of which Houston had never heard, but judging from the rich
samples of ore produced, and the testimony of experts and assayers, it
seemed to be one of the most valuable properties in that locality; but
to Houston, situated as he was, behind the scenes, it only afforded an
additional glimpse of the business methods of the company.

As he still sat at his desk, having just completed his day's work,
Morgan came in and threw himself down heavily into a chair, taking his
favorite attitude, with his feet crossed on the table, and his hands
clasped behind his head.

"You look tired, Morgan," commented Houston.

"I am tired," he replied, "too tired to breathe if I wasn't obliged
to; this has been a hard day's work, and if old Blaisdell sells that
mine, as he expects to, he'll have to divy up pretty liberally."

Houston turned around facing Morgan, with a peculiar smile.

"The Sunrise mine seems to have developed wonderfully within the past
few days," he remarked quietly.

Morgan laughed; "You'd think so," he replied, "if you could have seen
it four days ago. There hasn't been a day's work done on it for over a
year; some of it had caved in, and even the main shaft was pretty well
filled up with rubbish. Now that's all cleaned out, and the few places
where there is any quantity of ore in sight show up to good advantage,
and we've hauled eight or ten tons of ore from the Yankee Boy down
onto the dump, so it makes a pretty respectable showing. Oh, the boss
is a cuckoo for any job of that kind."

"Does the mining company own the Yankee Boy?" asked Houston.

"No," answered Morgan, "that whole group of mines is owned by a set
of New Yorkers; this company out here is their agent, that's all."

"And New Yorkers are not supposed to know all the ins and outs of
their western agent's mining deals," commented Houston.

"Well, I should say not! There's a good many things going on that they
are not supposed to know about, and that they wouldn't be very likely
to get onto, either, some of 'em, even if they were right on the
ground. Some of those ducks are pretty green, and fellows like
Blaisdell or Rivers can make them believe most anything. If Blaisdell
was half as smart as he makes some of those eastern fellows think he
is, he would have been a rich man before this."

"Why," said Houston, in surprise, "Blaisdell is quite well off, isn't
he?"

Morgan's only answer was a significant shake of the head.

"What!" exclaimed Houston in astonishment.

"Really, he is not worth a dollar," answered Morgan, "every nickle's
worth of property that he ever had, that he hasn't lost outright, has
been put into the hands of his wife, or his sons, or somebody or
other, heaven knows who, I don't, nor nobody else."

"Well, I am surprised," said Houston, "he seems shrewd and sharp in
business matters, and I supposed he was a rich man. He must have made
considerable money, what has become of it?"

Morgan shrugged his shoulders; "Have you seen old Rivers yet?" he
inquired.

"The secretary? No, I've never met him."

"Well," continued Morgan, "you probably will, in a day or two, he'll
be likely to come up with the eastern party; and when you've seen him,
you've seen the biggest rascal, and at the same time the slickest duck
there is on this side of the divide, and I doubt if there's any on the
other side can beat him. Old Blaisdell's pretty smooth, but he ain't a
circumstance to Rivers. Rivers will rob you of your last dollar, and
make you think he's your best friend all the time. Oh, he's a lulu,
and no mistake!"

Further conversation was prevented by the entrance of Mr. Blaisdell,
with a fine lot of ore samples with their assay values attached, which
he arranged on his desk, his thin lips drawn back meanwhile in his
accustomed self-satisfied smile. When this was done, he turned to the
young men.

"Well," he began, with a low chuckle of delight, "I've got word my
party is coming all right. Haight just got a telegram from Rivers,
that Winters had wired him that he and his son and the expert would be
in Silver City, on to-morrow's train, so I will have to go back to the
city to-night, to be in readiness to meet them. Let me see, this is
Wednesday, they arrive Thursday; Morgan, set the men to work on that
mine Friday morning; we will be up here in the course of the forenoon,
you see that everything is in first-class order. Houston, are those
statements and tracings all ready?"

"They are," replied Houston.

"Very well, put them up as quick as you can, I'll take them to the
city with me, and the team will be here in half a minute; I want to
catch that six o'clock train. I didn't expect to have to go to-night,
but that telegram has hurried up matters. Morgan, you keep everything
straight to-morrow, and be ready for us Friday morning."

"Shall I send a team down?" asked Morgan.

"No, no matter about that, I'll take Joe Hunt's team there at the Y,
it will be a rather more stylish turnout than one of the mining teams.
Everything is here O.K. I suppose," as Houston handed him the papers
he had requested, "all right, there's my team; well, so long, boys,
don't get into any more fights while I'm gone," and he was soon
rattling down the canyon toward the Y, while Houston and Morgan began
to make preparations for closing the office.

"Well," said Morgan, as he stood looking out of the window, and
waiting for Houston to put away his books and papers for the night, "I
can just imagine the little scene that will be enacted down there at
the main office to-morrow, it would be as good as a play just to watch
it. There will be old Wilson, with his diamonds and palaver,
expatiating on the country and the mines; and Blaisdell, with that
dignified way of his, talking of nitrates and sulphides, and so many
milligrams equaling so many grains troy, and so many gramestons in so
many pounds avoirdupois, and all that razzle-dazzle, and Rivers, not
saying much of anything, but smiling, and calculating how many
thousands he is going to put in his own pockets."

Houston laughed, and was about to reply, when Rutherford came in, as
he often walked down to meet Houston and accompany him to the house.

"Come in, Ned," said Houston, "you should have been here a minute ago;
Morgan has been giving some verbal portraits of the mining company.
Your descriptive powers are excellent, Morgan, and you seem to know
these men pretty well."

"Know them," said Morgan, swinging himself astride a chair and folding
his arms upon the back, while Rutherford perched upon a large writing
table, and Houston leaned against his long desk, with his arms folded,
"Know them, I should think I ought to. I worked in the Silver City
office as bookkeeper for a year before coming out here, and six months
of that time I boarded in Blaisdell's family; and as his wife hates
Rivers' wife, and couldn't say enough about her, I knew about as much
of one family as the other before I came away."

"Does Mr. Blaisdell try to impress his better half with a sense of his
intellectual superiority, as he does the rest of his fellow mortals?"
asked Rutherford.

"If he ever did," answered Morgan, "he must have got bravely over it
some time ago; she treats him with a contempt that would have cured
him of that habit. I've sometimes thought that the reason he swells so
much out among people is because he's so unmercifully snubbed at
home."

"I see," said Rutherford, "just a natural effort to keep his
self-respect in equilibrium."

"Has he many children?" inquired Houston.

"Well, no," said Morgan, "not many, only fifteen."

"Only fifteen!" said Houston, in astonishment, while Rutherford
exclaimed, "Oh, come off now, you're joking!"

"No joking about it," said Morgan seriously, "I took the old man's
word for it. I tried several times to count 'em, but had to give it
up, it seemed that every day I saw a new one. Some of 'em are as old
as I; you see this is his third wife, and some of the children are
older than she."

"I think," said Rutherford, "I'd like a wife younger than my
children."

"He seems to," replied Morgan, "they're as spooney as can be, when
they're not quarreling."

"Oh, deliver me!" said Rutherford, "I don't want to hear any more
about them. How about that other man, Rivers? He hasn't such a surplus
of children and wives, has he?"

"Well," said Morgan slowly, "I guess if his children could all be got
together, there'd be more of 'em than of Blaisdell's, and he has full
as many wives, only, in his case, they are all living."

"Great Scott!" said Rutherford, "is he a Mormon?"

Morgan shook his head, and Houston said:

"Morgan, I think in your efforts to be entertaining, you are drawing
slightly on your imagination, thinking that we are fresh enough to
believe anything you choose to tell us."

"No, it's all true, whether you believe it or not. That man left a
wife and family of children somewhere in New York State, more than ten
years ago, and ran away with another woman; they have five or six
children, and here, about three years ago, since I came here, he got
his divorce from the first woman, and married this one. Then he spent
last winter in San Francisco, and it seems now, that he circulated
around there under another name,--and his name is no more Rivers, than
mine is Jenks,--and passed himself off for an unmarried man, and now
there's a woman there has entered suit against him, for breach of
promise."

"Well," said Rutherford, descending from his elevated position, "I
move that we adjourn to the boarding house at once; if I hear any
more such stuff, I'll lose my appetite."

"The mystery to me is," said Houston, when they were started on their
way to the house, "how such a man is allowed to live and do business
in a respectable community."

"Oh," said Morgan carelessly, "he isn't any worse than the rest of
'em, only he's a little more out and out with it; and the rest of 'em
know it, and as long as they all live in glass houses, they don't any
of 'em want to throw any stones."

"It cannot be quite as bad as that," said Houston.

"Well, I've found 'em all about alike, men and women too, for that
matter, though I believe you shut me off from expressing my views
about women."

"But you certainly would not include all women in such an assertion?"
said Houston.

"I don't know why not, as far as my experience goes, they're all off
the same piece."

"Why, man," said Houston indignantly, "what are you talking about? You
had a mother once, you do not mean to traduce her memory?"

For a moment, Morgan was silent, then he replied in a tone that
sounded very unlike his usual voice:

"Yes, I had a mother once, and that is what has made me what I am;
sometime I will tell you about her."

And nothing more was said until they reached the house.




CHAPTER XV.


Friday morning, word was received from Mr. Blaisdell, over the
private wire connecting the office at Silver City with the mines,
that he and Mr. Rivers would be up on the first train with a party of
four, and to have everything in readiness for them; also to make
arrangements for their accommodation at the boarding house. Morgan
had already placed a small force of men at work on the mine, and
after carrying out Mr. Blaisdell's instructions, remained himself at
the mine, superintending the work.

It was one of those perfect days, so frequent among the mountains; a
cloudless sky, and the air so clear that one could see the most
distant mountain peaks with wonderful distinctness. The weather was
again warm, yet the air was cool and invigorating, and aromatic with
the breath of the evergreen forests clothing the sides of the
mountains and foot hills, while everywhere, the spring flowers were
adding their color and beauty to the scene, their fragrance rising
continuously, like an invisible cloud of incense, on every hand.

At about eleven o'clock, Houston heard the noise of the approaching
team, and stepping to the window, saw a three-seated, open wagon,
drawn by a pair of powerful horses. On the back seat, with Mr.
Blaisdell, was an old gentleman, evidently Mr. Winters, and on the
second seat, facing them, were two whom Houston judged to be Mr.
Rivers and the junior Mr. Winters; but he took little notice of them,
for his attention was arrested by one of the two young men sitting on
the front seat, with the driver. The figure looked wonderfully
familiar, but the face was almost wholly concealed by a broad-brimmed,
soft hat. The team stopped, and at once the passengers prepared to
alight; the hat was suddenly pushed back, revealing to the astonished
Houston, the shining spectacles and laughing face of Arthur Van Dorn,
his college class mate and chum.

The men were alighting, and it was evident that Mr. Blaisdell was in a
most genial frame of mind, he fairly beamed on every one; but Houston,
not waiting to meet him, made a hasty retreat into the back room, to
decide quickly upon his course of action. Nearly a thousand plans
occurred to him, but none seemed feasible. If Mr. Blaisdell were the
only member of the firm present, he felt he would have little
difficulty, but the presence of Mr. Rivers made it considerably harder
for him.

Meanwhile, in the front room, Mr. Blaisdell was receiving his guests
in the most effusive manner, reminding Houston, even in his dilemma,
of a gushing school girl.

"Mr. Winters, let me assist you, you must be exceedingly weary; here,
take this chair, you will find it a little more comfortable; sorry not
to have more luxurious quarters in which to receive you, but this is
the wild west, you know. Mr. Rivers, won't you see that Mr. Winters is
comfortable, while I wait on his son. Mr. Lindlay, let me show you
these specimens of ore, I think you will appreciate them as few can."

In the midst of all this effusion, Mr. Rivers suddenly appeared in the
back room. He was a small man, quite bald, with small, twinkling,
peering eyes, and a quick motion of his head from one side to the
other that reminded Houston of a ferret. Seeing Houston, his eyes
twinkled until they nearly closed, he smiled, and extending his hand,
said:

"Ah, the new clerk, Mr. Houston, I suppose; very glad to meet you."

At that moment Mr. Blaisdell entered; "Well, Mr. Rivers, you have
found Mr. Houston, I see; Mr. Houston, this is Mr. Rivers, the
secretary of the company. I was just looking for you, Houston, I want
you to come in and meet the people in the other room."

"In a moment, Mr. Blaisdell," said Houston, "but first, will you and
Mr. Rivers just look over something I have found here. This looks to
me as though a serious error had been made in this report regarding
the Sunrise mine, and as you will probably need it to-day, had it
better not be corrected?"

"Error in the report of the Sunrise!" said Mr. Blaisdell, adjusting
his spectacles, "let me see; why yes, that is an error, and a bad one,
too, I am glad you called our attention to it; look here, Rivers," and
the two men were deeply engrossed in a study of the papers before
them.

Houston improved the opportunity to reconnoiter the situation in the
front room. Mr. Winters and his son were in a close consultation. The
third man was busily engaged in looking at some ores, his back towards
the door, while beside him stood Van Dorn, indifferently watching him.
Houston gave a slight cough that attracted Van Dorn's attention; he
turned, and seeing Houston, his face brightened, and he was about to
spring forward to greet him, when the latter, with a quick motion of
his hand, gave him the signal of their old college days, its
equivalent in the western vernacular being, "Don't give me away," at
the same time putting his finger on his lips. A look of intense
surprise flashed across Van Dorn's face, but he grasped the situation
at once, and silently giving the return signal, he turned and walked
in the opposite direction with the most nonchalant manner imaginable,
and Houston knew that his secret was safe. A few moments afterward,
"Mr. Houston, our private secretary," was introduced to the entire
party, and a hearty grip from Van Dorn's hand, which Houston returned
with interest, was the only sign of mutual recognition.

"Well friends," said Mr. Blaisdell, blandly, having looked at his
watch, "it is now so near noon, that when we have allowed Mr. Winters
ample time for rest, we had better proceed to the house and have our
dinner, before going to the mines."

"If you dine at noon," replied Mr. Winters, in a very genial, yet
dignified manner, "there is scarcely time for a very extended
exploration, but don't discommode yourselves in the least, gentlemen,
on account of my age and feebleness. I have always enjoyed perfect
health, and notwithstanding my gray hairs, I don't believe I am much
older than my friend, here, Mr. Blaisdell."

"Not older than I am, sir!" exclaimed Mr. Blaisdell, who prided
himself upon his youthful appearance, "why, how old do you take me to
be?"

"Much older than you look," replied Mr. Winters, "I am sixty-five, and
you are at least sixty, although you look ten years younger than
that."

"You have certainly proven yourself a Yankee by your guessing," said
Mr. Blaisdell, slightly disconcerted, while the others joined in a
general laugh at his expense, "I wouldn't have thought you would have
made so good a guess as that, neither did I think you were so near my
own age."

"You have the advantage of me now," returned Mr. Winters, pleasantly,
"but if we live twenty years, as I expect to, I'll then look younger
than you, for I have the better health of the two."

"Have you ever visited the west before, Mr. Winters?" inquired Mr.
Rivers.

"Yes, a few times," replied the old gentleman, while the mining
expert, an Englishman, with large blue eyes, full face and blond
mustache, smiled quietly at Van Dorn and Houston, who were seated near
each other; "I've been west once or twice a year for the last ten
years."

"Indeed!" said Mr. Rivers, with considerable surprise, while the
younger Mr. Winters said with a laugh, "Oh, you couldn't keep father
at home in New York, any more than you could one of these Indians out
here; he's got to be roaming around all over the country continually.
If he didn't drag me about with him everywhere, I wouldn't object."

"You have been out in this country often, I suppose," said Mr.
Blaisdell, addressing the expert, who replied coolly, with a very
slight accent:

"No, sir; I simply come out 'ere once in a w'ile, you know, just as an
accommodation to Mr. Winters."

"You live in New York, I suppose?"

"No, sir; my 'ome is in London," he replied, with an air that seemed
to indicate he did not care for any further conversation.

"Blaisdell," said Mr. Rivers, "I thought you said something some time
ago, about dinner; if the ride in the mountain air has given the rest
of these gentlemen such an appetite as it has me, we would like to see
that dinner materialize before very long."

On the way to the boarding house, Van Dorn managed to walk with
Houston, and exclaimed in a low tone:

"Good heavens, Everard, what does this mean? What are you masquerading
around in this style for?"

"Don't ask me to explain now, there are too many around; after dinner
we will go down by ourselves, and I'll tell you the whole story. I may
want a little advice from you, as you're a mining expert yourself."

"Don't let any of these people out here know that," Van Dorn answered
quickly; "Mr. Winters has introduced me as an inventor of some mining
machinery that they use, just out here looking around for the pleasure
of it; you know I did invent an amalgamator that is being used to some
extent; but I'm not supposed to know anything about practical
mining."

Houston laughed; "How about the Englishman?" he asked.

"He's no fool," said Van Dorn quickly, "though he is playing verdant;
only comes out here to accommodate Mr. Winters, and so forth; that's
all right, but he accommodates Mr. Winters pretty often. He's a fine
expert and understands his business thoroughly, only I happen to be a
little more familiar with the ores in this locality, as I spent a good
many months out here in the mountains two years ago, experting mines;
not in this camp of course, but only a few miles from here. Mr.
Winters himself is sharp, and with Lindlay and myself out here, he's
not going to be very badly taken in."

"Good!" said Houston, "and now there is one thing more before we get
to the house. You remember Morton Rutherford?"

"Mort Rutherford, of old college days? well, I should say so; what
about him?"

"His brother is stopping here, you will see him at dinner."

"What!" interrupted Van Dorn, "little Ned? What under heaven is he
doing out here? Are you two fellows out here incognito making love to
rustic maidens? or what are you doing?"

"No, Ned is out here in his own name, you won't need be under any
restrictions with him, but what I want to say is this: Don't let him
know who I am, or that you used to know me, or that I know his
brother."

"Anything else I'm not to let him know?" queried Van Dorn, taking out
a small note book.

"No, put up your book, or Mr. Blaisdell will think I am giving you
pointers on the mine. But this is how it is; Rutherford met me on the
train coming out here, introduced himself to me, took a fancy to the
mountains, and decided to stay a few weeks. He thinks I am--what you
found me--the clerk for this company, and my home in Chicago. I am not
ready to explain matters to him yet, so just simply appear as if you
had never met me or heard of me till to-day."

"But how is it Ned didn't know you? Didn't you ever see him when you
visited Mort?"

"No, I was there only once, and he was away at school at the time, and
then he never went to Yale, you know, he is a Harvard graduate."

"Oh, I see; all right, I'll be mum."

A sharp turn in the road brought the house into view, with Rutherford
seated on the porch, reading a magazine.

He glanced up with his usual assumption of dignity, as the party
approached, but catching sight of Van Dorn, at the rear of the little
procession, his magazine and his dignity were suddenly flung to the
winds, and he bounded down from the porch like a school-boy.

"By Jove! Hello there, Van Dorn, how do you do? Great Scott! how did
you ever come out here? I'm awfully glad to see you."

"Very glad to see you, my dear boy," said Van Dorn, heartily, "but the
mystery to me is, how do you happen to be here?"

Mr. Blaisdell looked on greatly astonished and amused by Rutherford's
impetuous greeting.

"Well, Mr. Rutherford," he remarked, "you seem to have met an old
friend; ah, yes, I see, you are from Boston, and so is Mr. Van Dorn."

Introductions followed, and the party sat down to dinner. Houston,
seated between Van Dorn and Rutherford, did not lack for entertainment,
but he had been at the table but a few seconds when he became aware
that Miss Gladden was not there. He waited till the meal was nearly
over, and then quietly inquired of Lyle whether Miss Gladden were ill.

"Oh no," Lyle answered, in a low tone, "Miss Gladden thought best, as
so many gentlemen were to be here, and on business, to let them have
the table to themselves."

After dinner, Houston started a little early for the office, and Van
Dorn took his hat, saying:

"If you'll excuse me, gentlemen, I'll walk down with Mr. Houston. You
know I'm not so crazy on mining as you are, and I'd like to see
somebody for a change, that can talk on some other subject."

"Go ahead," said Mr. Winters, "I suppose you'll want to go through the
mines in our company, though, by and by."

"I probably will have to go in your company, if I go at all," Van Dorn
replied carelessly, "my choice is rather limited."

"You'll be here this evening, won't you Van?" said Rutherford, who was
then engaged in a sort of one-sided conversation with the Englishman.

"I suppose so," Van Dorn answered.

"All right, I'll see you later," Rutherford responded.

The confidential clerk and the young inventor strolled down the road
together, and the officers of the mining company never dreamed of the
results.

Half an hour later, Mr. Blaisdell and Mr. Rivers rose to return to the
office, and the others followed their example, with the exception of
Mr. Winters, who said:

"If you boys are in a hurry to start, all right, go ahead; I'm going
to take my after-dinner smoke out here on the porch," at the same time
producing a fine meerschaum.

"Now, father, don't you get left behind," said his son jokingly.

"Get left, you young rattle-brains! I'll have my smoke out and be down
there at the office, before you are ready to start; your old father
generally 'gets there' in as good time as you can make."

"I'll tell you what we will do, Mr. Winters," said Mr. Blaisdell, "the
road to the mine branches off just below here, and we can just as well
drive around here and call for you."

"All right, Mr. Blaisdell, that will be perfectly satisfactory,
whatever suits you young fellows, suits me."

"Very well, then, Mr. Winters," said Mr. Blaisdell, "we 'young
fellows' will be along in the course of half an hour," and they went
down the canyon, leaving the old gentleman in the low porch, deep in
the enjoyment of his pipe.




CHAPTER XVI.


As the quondam class-mates disappeared together down the winding road,
Houston gave his friend, as succinctly as possible, an explanation of
his presence there in the capacity of clerk, briefly outlining his
plans, and stating what he had been able so far to accomplish.

Van Dorn was intensely interested, and through his own practical
knowledge and experience, was able to give Houston some valuable
information, and to make some important suggestions.

Houston was quick to see that here was just the help he would need a
little later; he also knew that opportunities for seeing his friend
would be limited, he must act promptly.

"Arthur," he asked rather abruptly, "how soon do you go east?"

"In about two weeks."

"Any special engagements for this summer?"

"Nothing particularly important at present."

"You remember my uncle, don't you?"

"I remember Mr. Cameron perfectly, though I have not seen him for a
number of years."

"I suppose, for a sufficient consideration, you would come out here on
business for us, at any time?"

"Like Lindlay, 'just to accommodate,' I suppose," laughed Van Dorn,
and continued, "Everard, old boy, I am at the service of yourself and
your uncle, and we'll say nothing about 'considerations' until
afterward; then arrange it between yourselves."

"We will not require your time and services without ample compensation,"
returned Houston, "but you will be just the man I will need later; an
expert, familiar with this locality, in whom my uncle will repose perfect
confidence, and whom the company here will not suspect."

"But Mr. Cameron may not place much confidence in the harum-scarum
sophomore that visited his home a few years since, if he remembers him
at all," said Van Dorn, with a little laugh.

"My word will be enough for that," said Houston, "I will write a
letter this afternoon for you to take to him. There are the gentlemen
now, coming down the road; I will see you again this evening, and
probably to-morrow. I wonder what has become of Mr. Winters?"

"Probably he is taking his afternoon smoke," said Van Dorn. "I think
the old gentleman would throw up the whole mining deal rather than
sacrifice that. After what you've told me of this mining concern out
here, I've considerable curiosity to see this famous mine they've been
writing about. I've got an idea just about how it will pan out, but
I'll say nothing till I've seen it."

"Let me know your impressions, later," said Houston.

"Agreed," answered Van Dorn, and the party outside having nearly
reached the door, the subject was dropped.

Meanwhile, Mr. Winters, seated in the rustic porch, his attention
divided between the picturesque scenery surrounding him, and the
spirals of blue smoke which he loved to watch, was in no hurry to
exchange his present enjoyment for subterranean explorations; the rest
and solitude seemed doubly welcome after the last few weeks of
travel.

Rutherford, who lingered a few moments after the others had gone, did
not find him very socially inclined, and picking up his magazine from
the floor, where it had reposed since Van Dorn's appearance, he
started up the canyon for a stroll among the rocks by the lake.

It is to be feared that Mr. Winters, under the combined influence of
his pipe and the warm sunshine, was very nearly asleep. It is certain
that he never heard the sound of soft, trailing garments beside him,
nor did he appear to be in full possession of all his faculties, until
two arms rested lightly on his shoulders, and a pair of small, white
hands were clasped across his eyes.

Such a proceeding, under such circumstances, naturally had the effect
of very quickly restoring his faculties to their normal condition, but
on trying to turn his head, he found it held as firmly as in a vise,
by the hands which had been quickly removed from his eyes, while a
mischievous voice announced imperiously:

"Guess who it is, and you are free!"

"Guess!" exclaimed the old gentleman in some perplexity, "why, if I
were at home, I would know this was one of my little girl's tricks,
but I cannot imagine who it is here."

There was a musical, rippling laugh, as the hands were withdrawn,
and Mr. Winters, turning quickly, came near losing his pipe in
astonishment.

"Bless my soul, Leslie! what does this mean? Well, well! so it was my
little girl after all, up to her old tricks; but, child, how came you
out here, in such a place as this?"

At that moment, Houston or Rutherford would scarcely have recognized
Miss Gladden, could they have seen her seated beside Mr. Winters with
all the careless abandon of a child, laughing merrily in answer to his
numerous questions, while he playfully pinched her cheek, or pulled
her ear. To Mr. Winters, however, she seemed like one of his own
children, for Leslie Gladden was an orphan, and Mr. and Mrs. Winters,
having been deeply attached to her parents, and having no daughter of
their own, had always regarded her as a daughter, and much of her life
had been passed in their home.

"Well, puss," said Mr. Winters, having answered her inquiries
regarding his family, "seems to me it's about time you gave an account
of yourself; what are you doing here? and what have you been doing
since last Easter? and where are Helen and her husband?"

"One question at a time, if you please, sir," said Miss Gladden.

"That's right, giving the old man orders, as usual; we always spoiled
you, Leslie. Well, in the first place, what possessed you to leave us
in the way you did? We understood you had gone to spend Easter with
Helen; and the next we heard, Helen wrote her sister that they were
going to spend the summer traveling in the west, and that you were to
accompany them."

"I will explain that a little later; what is the next in order?"

"Is Helen here with you?"

"No, sir, she and George are in Denver."

"And who is stopping here with you?"

"No one; do you think I need a guardian, or a chaperon?"

The old man's eyes twinkled; "You always were an independent sort of a
girl, and pretty level-headed, too, I must admit; but, my dear child,
is it safe for you to be out here alone among the miners, and this
rough class of people?"

Miss Gladden laughed; "Did you see any very rough people to-day at
dinner?"

"Why no, to be sure, I did not, but then, there must be many of them
out here in this neighborhood."

"I never see them," said Miss Gladden, "I associate only with the
people you met to-day; no one here knows that I have wealth; so
really, I am safer here than at home, where I am known."

"But there is no society here," protested the old gentleman.

"I came here to get away from society; there is plenty of refined and
pleasant companionship, and if I have friends here, I know they are
sincere friends, not money worshipers, or fortune hunters."

"Oh, I see," said Mr. Winters, "the princess is out here in disguise,
seeking some knight who will love her for herself alone, and not for
her fortune."

"No," said Miss Gladden gravely, "I have not come out here seeking for
any knight, but to escape from a base, dishonorable and cowardly
knave."

"Has your cousin Humphrey been annoying you again?"

"Yes, he and his mother made life a burden to me, that was my reason
for leaving home as I did. Humphrey has sunk nearly every dollar of
their property by his profligacy, and now, he and his mother are
determined to have my fortune. Aunt exhausted all her stock of
melodramatic and sentimental language and her tears in trying to get
me to fulfill what she called my father's 'dying wish,' by marrying
that debauchee and libertine; then she tried threats, and finally
became so wild with rage, that she reminded me of the will, and told
me I should never marry any one else; that Humphrey should have the
property, as my father intended, sooner or later, if not with me, then
without me. I knew Helen intended to come west, and I went to her and
asked to let me travel with them. Now, you know my reason for leaving
so suddenly, and for not writing. We have all enjoyed our trip very
much; you know George came out on business, and when he was occupied,
of course it was pleasanter for Helen that I was with her. While we
were at St. Paul, George met some mining men, and he immediately began
to have symptoms of mining fever, and hearing of the mines out here,
he brought us out, among the mountains and miners. We came out when
the weather was warm and delightful, and Helen and I roamed over the
mountains while George explored the mines. Then he decided to go to
Denver, and I would probably have accompanied them, though I had
become attached to this place, but just then I heard that my cousin
had traced me to St. Paul, and was in pursuit, to renew his attentions
to me, so I decided to remain here where he will be less likely to
find me. Helen and her husband are in Denver, sworn to secrecy
regarding my whereabouts."

"Well, well!" exclaimed the old gentleman, meditatively, "I wouldn't
have thought your aunt would so far have forgotten herself. It was
unfortunate that your father made such a will, leaving everything to
Humphrey in case of your dying unmarried, but that was when you were
both children, and he was very fond of the little fellow. Leslie, my
dear, I wish you were married."

"But I am not, and perhaps never likely to be," Miss Gladden answered
merrily.

"Yes, and you might have been married twenty times over," said Mr.
Winters, shaking his head, "and my own boy, Harry, among the lot."

"Once is enough for me, papa dear," said Miss Gladden lightly, yet in
a more tender tone, "when the right one comes; but it could never have
been Harry, any more than his brother, Richard; you and mamma were
like parents to me, and the boys both seem like brothers."

"Have you found the right one, yet?" asked the old gentleman, watching
her keenly.

"As I told you, I am not looking for a knight," she answered brightly,
but the color deepened on her cheek, "if he ever comes, he must find
me."

Mr. Winters noted the telltale flush, and slowly shaking his head,
remarked, "I don't know, Leslie, about the advisability of leaving you
here; you were always inclined to be very philanthropic, and it would
be like you to adopt some young man out here, thinking you had money
enough for yourself and him, too; that clerk down at the office, for
instance, or this kid that was prancing around in eye-glasses."

"The 'kid' as you call him," Miss Gladden answered demurely, "has
plenty of money of his own, and Mr. Houston seems abundantly able to
take care of himself; if I adopt any one, it will be that beautiful
girl who waited on you at dinner."

"What is that, my dear?" said the old gentleman, brightening, "I
noticed that girl at the table to-day; she is remarkably fine looking,
and seemed to conduct herself like a perfect lady; who is she?"

Miss Gladden, in her enthusiastic manner, began telling him of Lyle,
and of the interest she had taken in her, but before she had proceeded
very far, the team appeared at the junction of the roads, the men
calling Mr. Winters.

"Bless my stars, if there isn't the team!" he exclaimed, "well my
little girl, good-bye for the present, you will see us both this
evening," and having given Miss Gladden a promise that neither he nor
his son would betray her secret, he hastened down the road to the
waiting team.

"Well, boys," he said, stopping to carefully empty the ashes from his
pipe on a projecting ledge of rock, "I will have to give you credit
for being on hand very promptly; that was about the shortest half hour
that I can remember."

A loud, ringing laugh greeted this remark, which caused Mr. Winters,
who was replacing his pipe in its case, to look up in mild wonder.

"That's one on you, father," called his son, while Mr. Blaisdell
remarked, "The time evidently has passed very pleasantly."

"What is the origin of all this mirth?" demanded Mr. Winters, as he
seated himself with considerable dignity.

"It seems," said Mr. Rivers, in explanation, "to be because you were
so unconscious of the lapse of time; we were delayed in getting
together our papers, and it is over an hour since we left the house."

"I looked for you at every turn of the road," said his son.

"I didn't," said Van Dorn, "I thought he had fallen asleep over his
pipe; I never dreamed he was disgracing the whole crowd of us by such
open flirtation as that,--I wish we had brought along a chaperon."

"Well, gentlemen," said Mr. Winters very deliberately, "all I have to
say is, that had you been in my place, the time would have seemed
equally short to you, and I don't think there's one of you but would
have been mighty glad to have been in my place."

"Mr. Winters," said Mr. Blaisdell, "I begin to think you're the
youngest man of our party."




CHAPTER XVII.


With many jokes and much hilarity, the mining party proceeded on their
way. Arriving at the mines, they found Morgan and Haight awaiting
them, who were duly introduced to the party, the English expert
looking at Haight with much the same expression with which a mastiff
might regard a rat terrier.

Everything being in readiness, they began the descent of the long
incline shaft, Mr. Blaisdell and Haight leading the way with Mr.
Lindlay, while Mr. Rivers followed with Mr. Winters and his son and
Van Dorn, Morgan bringing up the rear.

It was nearly three hours before they reappeared at the surface, and
to a physiognomist, their faces, as they emerged from the mouth of the
shaft, would have furnished an amusing study.

Mr. Blaisdell looked irritated and annoyed, but jubilant. He had been
thoroughly disgusted by the conduct of the English expert. Instead
of taking Mr. Blaisdell's word regarding the mine, corroborated as
it was by undisputable evidence in the shape of mining reports,
surveyor's notes, and maps, he had insisted on ascertaining for
himself the important data, the width, dip and course of the vein,
and the measurement of various angles and distances, with a
persistency and accuracy that was simply exasperating. He also picked
up samples of ore in the most unexpected places which he examined
with the closest scrutiny. But having taken his measurements and made
his examinations, the results were immediately jotted down in his
note book, and the samples dropped in his pockets, without a word,
which convinced Mr. Blaisdell that the expert knew very little of his
business, and was probably either doing this to keep up appearances,
or to gain a little information for his own benefit. Not a word had
been said contradicting the statements he had made, not a question
raised implying any doubt of their correctness;--evidently they were
just the kind of purchasers he wanted, and his firmly set jaws and
tightly compressed lips expressed his satisfaction.

Mr. Rivers scanned the company keenly with his ferret-like glances;
such unexpected acquiescence on their part made him slightly
suspicious and very watchful. The thought uppermost in his mind was,
"Either these people know absolutely nothing about mining, or they
know too much for our good." He had intended going back to the city
that evening, but he now decided to remain over.

Mr. Winters, senior, reappeared, wearing the same expression of
benevolence and dignity with which he had entered the mine. He seemed
serenely unconscious of the existence of deceit or fraud in business
transactions generally, and in mining negotiations in particular. Only
those well acquainted with him could detect from the exaggerated
twinkle of his eyes, that something had more than ordinarily amused
him.

Van Dorn and Lindlay had agreed before hand that they would keep
entirely separate, and each pursue his own course of investigation
independently of the other,--Van Dorn of course not being able to take
any measurements, as he was not supposed to be an expert,--and compare
notes later. As the two emerged into daylight and their eyes met, Van
Dorn's laughing, blushing face would have betrayed him, had any one
known his real business there, but a young inventor, exploring mines
just for the fun of the thing, is supposed to find plenty of
amusement. Under the big, blond mustache of the Englishman, a pair of
lips curled scornfully, and his eyes rolled wildly for a moment, but
that was all.

As the gentlemen gathered around the dump, the last vestige of Mr.
Blaisdell's irritation seemed to have disappeared, as he blandly
expatiated upon the quantity and quality of the ore.

Van Dorn's eyes sparkled as he saw the shining lumps from the Yankee
Boy, and he and Lindlay exchanged quick glances.

"Look at that," said the latter, quickly extracting from his pocket a
sample of the Sunrise ore and placing it beside a piece taken at
random from the dump; "does any one pretend to tell me that those are
from the same vein?"

"It is a different class of ore altogether," replied Van Dorn, "such
ore as that never would be found under the conditions existing in that
mine, but I'll be blest if I wouldn't like to see the mine it did come
from."

Mr. Rivers had observed this little side conversation and Van Dorn's
close scrutiny of the samples, and was at his side in a moment,
inquiring in his smoothest tones:

"What do you think of that ore, Mr. Van Dorn?"

"Very fine ore, so far as I can judge," said Van Dorn carelessly, "I
would like to see it run through that concentrator and amalgamator of
mine; if these men ever get through talking about mines, Mr. Rivers, I
must get you and Mr. Blaisdell interested in my machinery."

At the suggestion of Mr. Lindlay, the party next paid a visit to the
Morning Star mine, that being the one which Mr. Blaisdell had declared
was on the same lead as the Sunrise. This they found to be a valuable
mine, but there was not the slightest indication of the vein being
identical with that of the Sunrise, its strike carrying it in a
totally different direction, and its characteristics being wholly
dissimilar.

As it was too late for any further mining explorations, the team was
ordered, and preparations made for a return to the house.

Lindlay and Van Dorn, by mutual agreement, started up the canyon road
together, in advance of the others.

"Boys, where are you going?" called Mr. Winters.

"Going to walk on ahead," answered Van Dorn.

"Just as cheap to ride," said Mr. Winters.

"Plenty of room," added Mr. Blaisdell.

"We can't wait for you, you're too slow," laughed Van Dorn.

"Give our places to those gentlemen," said Lindlay, indicating
Haight and Morgan, and with rather a painful emphasis on the word
"gentlemen."

"Egad!" he exclaimed a few moments later, "Van Dorn, what do you think
of that for a mining proposition?"

"It's pretty tough, in fact, about the toughest I ever saw," replied
Van Dorn, "but then, you remember we got a hint at Silver City that
they were sharpers."

"Sharpers!" exclaimed Lindlay, "but I don't call them sharpers; I can
admire a good, genuine piece of keen rascality, don't you know, for I
can play just as sharp a game myself as the best of them, but w'en it
comes to such downright, beastly work as this, so blundering and
bungling you know, w'y it looks too much as though they thought we
were all born idiots, to be very complimentary."

"I'll admit it looks that way," said Van Dorn, laughing, "it doesn't
look as though they had a very flattering opinion of our acquirements,
or our natural penetration, if they suppose we can be gulled in this
way. They are about the worst set of mining sharks I've ever had the
pleasure of meeting, and I shall tell Houston so."

"By the way, that Mr. 'Uston seems a very decent sort of a man,"
commented Lindlay.

"He's a fine fellow," responded Van Dorn warmly, "you see I know him,
he's a friend of mine, but don't say anything till we get out of
here."

"A friend of yours! and w'at in the deuce is he doing out 'ere, among
such a beastly lot?"

"He is out on a piece of detective work on his own account," and Van
Dorn briefly gave Lindlay an outline of what Houston had told him. A
prolonged "Ah--h" from Lindlay was the only response.

"I thought I'd better tell you," said Van Dorn, "for fear you would
include him in the lot out here, and be down on him with the rest. He
is a splendid fellow, and I want you to know him."

"That I will," responded the Englishman, "'ere, give 'im my card, and
tell 'im I'll be very glad to 'elp 'im out a bit any time if he needs
it later, you know; I would like to see 'im get the best of these
fellows."

"I will tell him," replied Van Dorn, "he may give you a letter of
introduction to his uncle. They are all fine people, and, as you say,
I would like to see Houston get the best of these rascals; I believe
he will, too, though he will have to lay low for a while yet, and
there may be some pretty dangerous work for him before he gets
through."

The pedestrians and the remainder of the party reached the house at
nearly the same time, the latter having been slightly delayed in
starting. Although a little late, Houston and Rutherford, with Miss
Gladden and Lyle, were awaiting them in the porch. The rare beauty of
the two ladies elicited expressions of admiration from both Lindlay
and Van Dorn, the latter exclaiming:

"They evidently have some fine specimens of ladies out here, and no
mistake; there seems to be no fraud in that direction. No wonder the
old gentleman was so indifferent as to whether we called for him or
not!"

Miss Gladden extended a welcome, both cordial and graceful, to Mr.
Winters and his son, and also to Van Dorn, whom Rutherford introduced
as an old friend. Other introductions followed, and the entire company
entered the long, low dining room, whither Lyle had already preceded
them to see that everything was in perfect readiness. Exclamations of
surprise and pleasure were heard on all sides, as the table had been
tastefully decorated by the skillful fingers of the ladies, with wild
flowers, and their beauty and fragrance filled the room. A very social
meal followed, interspersed with jokes and repartee, and pleasant
reminiscences. Toward the close, Mr. Blaisdell entertained them with
amusing sketches of western life, and soon was relating some of his
first mining experiences, when he had just come from the east, a newly
fledged mining expert.

"I was asked, in company with another expert, a western man, much
older than I, to examine some properties for some mining men. They
were all experienced miners, old hands at the business, and they
regarded me, a young graduate from an eastern mining school, with no
practical knowledge that they knew of, as totally incompetent to
advise them, and, I think, invited me more out of courtesy than
anything else; perhaps also, out of benevolent intention to give me an
opportunity to learn something about mines.

"The evening previous to the day the examination was to be made, they
met for a little conversation regarding the history of the mine, and
to make plans for the following day. Of course, our talk was
principally of mining in general. Well, didn't I play 'green' that
evening. You can bet your sweet life that I did!"

Here Lindlay elbowed Houston, who in turn nudged Van Dorn. The last
named gentleman telegraphed across to the younger Winters and
Rutherford, and there seemed imminent danger of a general explosion;
however, Mr. Blaisdell thought it was all in appreciation of his
story, and blandly continued:

"I think when we broke up that night, the rest of them must have
wondered among themselves why they had been such fools as to invite
me. But I was only anxious for the time to come to go down into that
mine. It was a property which the company had bought when it was
nothing but a prospect, but which had then possessed every indication
of being a wonderful producer of very rich ore, and it was supposed
that with a little further development it would make a very fine
property. The company had immediately proceeded to develop the mine,
following the vein, as they supposed, for several hundred feet, but it
did not amount to anything worth speaking of. Occasionally they would
find croppings of very rich ore, but no true vein, and they had
finally determined to call in one or two experts, and after an
examination, decide whether it was worth the expenditure of any more
money, or whether it had better be abandoned.

"Well, aside from having received a fine education in this branch
of science, I had worked a good deal in some of old Nature's
laboratories, and was more familiar with these things than they
thought. I knew, from their talk, that they were not following the
course of the vein, though they thought they were, but of course, I
said nothing of that kind; I was playing green.

"The next day we went down into the mine, and I found just what I
expected to find; that they were simply following a false lead, and in
reality, going farther and farther from the vein every move they made.
There was the original vein to start with, and they had struck a false
lead close beside it, and were going down; digging down lower and
lower, while the true vein was right over their heads, and those
miners and that confounded expert that knew so much more than I did,
didn't any of them know enough just to look up there and see it. Why,
near the point where they had first started, I could see the ore
shining in places over my head, and there were croppings of it all
along.

"Well, to make a long story short, I advised them to stick to the
mine, and the expert advised them to abandon it. A little while
afterward, I asked them what they would take for the mine; of course
they thought that an additional proof of my greenness that I should
talk of buying it, but I hung on, not appearing very anxious about it
of course, for then they might suspect something. You won't believe
me, but I bought that mine for five hundred dollars, cash, and they
thought I was the biggest fool and tenderfoot that ever came out here.
I tell you, I made sure of a good, clear title to that property, and
then I went to work. I followed the old, original vein, and in less
than six weeks I had gold just a pouring out of that mine. My! but
didn't that company try to get back then! but I wouldn't have anything
to do with them; I told them I was a greenhorn and a tenderfoot, and
they had better let me alone. Well, sir, I worked that mine eighteen
months, and cleared, over and above all expenses, one hundred and
fifty thousand dollars, and then I sold it for half a million, and
those other fellows have been kicking themselves ever since."

There was a hearty laugh at the termination of the story, and the
company adjourned to the porch and the open space surrounding the
house, for the evening.

Taken all in all, there was in that little company sheltered under the
old house that night, a strange combination of plots and counter
plots, secrets and mysteries; and to Houston himself, as he sat a
little apart from the others, watching the group with thoughtful eyes,
it seemed a curious coincidence, that, on that evening, and at that
place, there should be assembled so many of the principal actors in
the drama which he knew must ere long be enacted, and he was unable to
shake off a vague presentiment that this was the opening scene. Just
what would that drama be, he wondered, would it be comedy or tragedy?
never, with all his foresight, dreaming the depth of tragedy so soon
to follow, or recognizing as such, some of the chief actors, even then
passing within his ken.

On one side of the low porch was seated Miss Gladden, entertaining Mr.
Winters and his son, while behind her, Lyle was standing with
unconscious grace, and a far-away, dreamy look in her eyes. Just
across the entrance, on the other side, were Lindlay, Van Dorn and
Rutherford, the last two engaged in animated conversation regarding
old times, Lindlay occasionally joining with them, but most of the
time watching Miss Gladden, with much admiration expressed in his
usually critical face. Mr. Rivers sauntered back and forth before the
house, smoking, while, at a little distance, Mr. Blaisdell, Haight and
Morgan were talking together. Jim Maverick, coming from behind the
house, touched his hat as a salute to Mr. Blaisdell, and after a quick
glance of suspicious distrust at the elder Mr. Winters, shuffled off
in the direction of the miners' quarters. A little later, a man with
powerful, athletic frame, who walked with quick, elastic step, and yet
as though conscious of his power, passed the house, followed by a fine
collie. His hat was drawn low over his eyes, partly concealing his
face, but this did not prevent his watching the group on the porch
with close, keen scrutiny. Houston and Rutherford started slightly,
and exchanged glances, for they had recognized their fellow passenger
from Valley City, and they would doubtless have made some comment, but
that just then Miss Gladden spoke:

"Lyle, dear, I wonder who that can be; he is dressed like a miner, but
his carriage and appearance is that of a gentleman."

"That," answered Lyle, in a low tone, "is Jack; he is a miner, and he
is also a gentleman."




CHAPTER XVIII.


Several days had elapsed since the eastern party, accompanied by Mr.
Blaisdell and Mr. Rivers, had returned to the city, and, as yet,
nothing had been learned of their decision regarding the mine. The
extra force of men on the Sunrise had returned to their regular
shifts, and the work at the mining camp was going forward in the old
routine, with the monotonous precision of clock-work.

Houston was quietly pursuing his own way, conscious that the task
before him involved difficulty and danger. He was aware that Haight,
notwithstanding his obsequious politeness, was one of his worst
enemies, and would injure him in every underhanded way within his
power, as, beneath the smooth, smiling exterior, Houston could detect
a deep, subtle malignity toward himself; and he rightly judged that
Jim Maverick, the tool of the mining company, would be the instrument
Haight would use when he was ready to work his revenge.

Maverick, from the first, had hated Houston with that instinctive
hatred which such vile natures, groveling in their own degradation,
always feel toward those moving on a higher plane, in an atmosphere
untainted by the putrescence which is their natural element. Maverick
knew that, to a man like Houston, his own baseness and villainy were
written in his face, and even in his slouching, cringing gait, as
plainly as though branded in letters of fire, and this was sufficient
to kindle his anger against him, and Haight, by his talk, added fuel
to the slowly smoldering fire. At home, but more particularly among
the miners, in the camp or at the Y, Maverick expressed his views
regarding Houston in language abounding with profanity and obscenity,
and many were the muttered threats of what he would do should the
object of his hatred ever cross his path.

Houston, meanwhile, was quick to discern the danger signals, and was
laying his plans wisely and well. His own work in the office of the
mining camp was nearly completed; there remained yet the information
to be gathered from the Silver City office, to which he was now
expecting to be called any day, and then the work of familiarizing
himself with the mines. When this should be accomplished, the end, for
which he was working and waiting, would be very near.

As he sat in the office one afternoon, reviewing the past few weeks,
he felt that he had succeeded thus far, even beyond his hopes. The
coming of Van Dorn and the acquaintance formed with Lindlay would be
of untold value to him in his work. A little later, Van Dorn would
come to his assistance without arousing suspicion, not being known as
a mining expert, and when the time came for the final denouement,
Lindlay would accompany Mr. Cameron to the mines, as he was a skilled
expert, and having already visited the mines, could furnish testimony
as to the fraud practiced by the company.

Thus far, everything had gone well, and the weeks of work in a
secluded mining camp, to which he had looked forward with anything but
pleasurable anticipations, had in reality proven,--he was surprised to
admit to himself,--among the pleasantest of his life. He would really
have many regrets on leaving the mountains to return to his old home,
he had formed such pleasant associations; and then, he suddenly became
conscious that, of his life among the mountains, there was little he
would miss, excepting a pair of dark, soulful eyes, in whose depths he
had failed to detect the least shadow of falseness or unworthiness;
mirrors of a sweet, womanly nature, strong, pure and beautiful, which
with a quick, ready sympathy entered into his feelings, and often
seemed to fathom his unspoken thoughts, and clothe them with language
of her own.

Houston started in astonishment, and, locking the office, took a
circuitous and little traveled road, determined to fully understand
his own heart before he again looked into those eyes with their depths
of sincerity and truth.

For many years he had been the recipient of flattering attentions from
fond papas and aspiring mammas. Invitations to club dinners, banquets
and the most recherche lunches, on the one hand, were evenly balanced
by cards to receptions, soirees and afternoon teas, on the other. Had
he passed heart-whole through all these sieges, only to fall a victim,
here and now?

He had admired Miss Gladden from the first; then, in their mutual
sympathy for Lyle, they had been drawn closer together, and since that
time,--yes, he could see it all now.

Of Miss Gladden herself he knew very little, except that she was a
true, noble woman; he needed no words to tell him that. Rutherford had
learned from conversation with her, that she was an orphan, and had
been traveling with friends because her home was made unpleasant by
some of her relatives; and both had judged that she was probably, in
a measure, dependent upon wealthy relatives.

This much Houston did know, however, that he loved Leslie Gladden,
that she was worthy of his love, and that life without her would not
seem worth the living. He believed that she loved him, and his heart
thrilled with the thought, that if so, it was for himself, not his
wealth, that she cared. Before he reached the house, his mind was
fully decided:

"I love her for herself," he soliloquized, "not caring whether she is
rich or poor, and I believe she does, or will, love me in like manner.
In any event, I must learn my fate before the arrival of my uncle."

As Houston approached the house, Miss Gladden and Lyle were standing
together in the porch. He greeted both ladies with even more than his
usual courtesy, but as his eyes met those of Miss Gladden, there was
that in his glance, which in itself, was a declaration of his love for
her. Lyle, with her quick intuition, read the meaning, and with her
natural sense of delicacy, as quickly withdrew, leaving them together.
For an instant, Miss Gladden's eyes dropped before Houston's glance,
while a lovely color suffused her cheek; then she raised her eyes,
meeting his with an answering glance, and in that mutual recognition,
though no word was spoken, they knew that they were lovers, and that
was enough for the present.

Of late, the four friends had spent much time together; sometimes
climbing the mountains, to watch from their lofty summits the setting
sun, slowly descending amid clouds of flame, whose glowing colors were
reflected from the surrounding peaks in ever varying tints; the rose
changing to amethyst and violet, and the violet deepening to purple;
while far below, the canyon lay wrapped in soft, gray twilight. Or,
sometimes, taking one or two boats from the little boat-house built
for the accommodation of summer tourists, they rowed about the lake in
the moonlight.

On this particular night, Rutherford proposed a row, in one of the
larger boats, the entire length of the lake, to the cascades, to which
the rest readily acceded. The ladies soon appeared in light, fleecy
wraps, Miss Gladden carrying a fine guitar, which called forth
exclamations of pleasure from the gentlemen.

"Good!" said Rutherford, "that will be just the thing; now we will
have some music."

"Miss Gladden," said Houston, "why have we not been favored in this
way earlier?"

"Oh," she replied, archly, "it has never been a necessity until
to-night, but a long row in the moonlight would not be perfect without
music."

This was their first trip to the end of the lakes, and they found
the scene beautiful beyond description. On one side an almost
perpendicular wall of rock; in the opposite direction, the mountain
ranges stretching far away in the distance, with snowy peaks gleaming
here and there, like watch towers; while just before them, the
shimmering cascades in the wondrous beauty of the moonlight, the deep,
unceasing roar seeming to rise and fall with a rhythm of its own.

For the first few moments, they sat in silent admiration of the beauty
around them; then Miss Gladden touched the strings of the guitar, and
began singing in a rich contralto, in which Houston joined with a fine
baritone, while Rutherford added a clear, sweet tenor. Their voices
blended perfectly, and accompanied by the sweet notes of the guitar,
the music floated out over the lake, the lingering echoes dying away,
in the distance.

Lyle took no part in the song, but sat listening with parted lips and
dreamy eyes. When the song was finished, she exclaimed:

"Oh, please do not stop, I love to listen to you; it reminds me of
something I have heard long ago, I don't know when or where."

"Do you never sing, Miss Maverick?" asked Rutherford.

"Only sometimes for myself," she said, "I know only two or three songs
that I have heard others sing."

"But you have a sweet voice," said Houston, "will you not sing for
us?"

"If you will overlook any mistakes, I may," answered Lyle, "for I
probably do not sing correctly, as I know nothing of music."

"Certainly, Lyle, we would like to hear you," said Miss Gladden.

As simply, and as free from self-consciousness as a child, Lyle began
her song, her eyes fixed on the distant shining peaks, and her only
accompaniment the music of the cascades.

               "Love is come with a song and a smile,
                Welcome love with a smile and a song;
                Love can stay but a little while:
                   Why can not he stay?
                   They call him away;
                Ye do him wrong, ye do him wrong,
                Love will stay for a whole life long."

Whether Lyle sang correctly that night was never known; even the
beautiful words of the old song that seemed so appropriate to the
occasion, were forgotten before she had sung more than two or three
lines, and her listeners sat entranced, spell-bound, by the voice of
the singer; a voice of such exquisite sweetness and clearness, and yet
possessing such power and depth of expression, that it thrilled the
hearts of her listeners, seeming to lift them out of all consciousness
of their surroundings, and to transport them to another world; a
world

            "Where the singers, whose names are deathless,
            One with another make music, unheard of men."

As the last note died away, a long, dee

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