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diff --git a/22583-h/22583-h.htm b/22583-h/22583-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..face96c --- /dev/null +++ b/22583-h/22583-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,9934 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Highgrader, by William MacLeod Raine. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + /*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ + <!-- + p {margin-top: 0.5em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: 0.5em;} + body {margin-left: 11%; margin-right: 10%;} + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; clear: both;} + h2 {text-align: center; margin-top: 3em; margin-bottom: 2em; clear: both;} + h3 {text-align: center; margin-top: 2em; font-weight: normal; clear: both;} + a {text-decoration: none;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + .blockquot {margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%;} + table p {text-align: center; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0;} + h2.toc {margin-top: 1em;} + .caption {font-size: 0.7em;} + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + .center {text-align:center;} + .pagenum {position: absolute; left: 92%; font-size: x-small; + font-weight: normal; font-variant: normal; font-style: normal; + text-indent: 0; color: silver; background-color: inherit;} + a.pagenum:after {border: 1px solid silver; padding: 1px 3px; content: attr(title);} + h1 {text-align: center; clear: both;} + hr.major {width: 65%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} + hr.full {width: 100%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} + h2.loi {margin-top: 1em;} + hr.dashed {width: 80%; margin-top: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; border:none; border-bottom:1px dashed;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Highgrader, by William MacLeod Raine + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Highgrader + +Author: William MacLeod Raine + +Illustrator: D. C. Hutchison + +Release Date: September 12, 2007 [EBook #22583] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HIGHGRADER *** + + + + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class="figcenter" style='width:350px; margin-bottom:40px;'> +<a name="illus-000" id="illus-000"></a> +<img src="images/illus-fpc.jpg" alt="KILMENY'S ALERT EYES SWEPT AGAIN AND AGAIN THE TRAIL LEADING UP THE GULCH. HE DID NOT INTEND TO BE CAUGHT NAPPING BY THE OFFICERS. Frontispiece, p. 67" title="" width="350" /><br /> +<span class="caption">KILMENY'S ALERT EYES SWEPT AGAIN AND AGAIN THE TRAIL LEADING UP THE GULCH. HE DID NOT INTEND TO BE CAUGHT NAPPING BY THE OFFICERS.<br />Frontispiece, p. 67</span> +</div> + +<table style="margin: auto; border: black 1px solid; width:30em; margin-bottom:40px;" summary=""><tr><td> +<p style=" font-size:2.6em; margin-top:1em;">THE</p> +<p style=" font-size:2.6em; margin-bottom:2em;">HIGHGRADER</p> +<p style=" font-size:1em;">BY</p> +<p style=" font-size:1.4em;margin-bottom:1em;">WILLIAM MacLEOD RAINE</p> +<p style=" font-size:0.8em;" class='smcap'>Author of "Wyoming," "Ridgway of Montana," "Bucky O'Connor,"</p> +<p style=" font-size:0.8em;" class='smcap'>"A Texas Ranger," "Mavericks," "Brand Blotters,"</p> +<p style=" font-size:0.8em;" class='smcap'>"Crooked Trails and Straight,"</p> +<p style=" font-size:0.8em;" class='smcap'>"The Vision Splendid," "The Pirate of Panama,"</p> +<p style=" font-size:0.8em; margin-bottom:5em;" class='smcap'>"A Daughter of the Dons," Etc.</p> +<p style=" font-size:1.0em;">ILLUSTRATIONS BY</p> +<p style=" font-size:1.2em; margin-bottom:4em;">D. C. HUTCHISON</p> +<p style=" font-size:1.1em;">G. W. DILLINGHAM COMPANY</p> +<p style=" font-size:0.8em; margin-bottom:1.5em;">PUBLISHERS NEW YORK</p> +</td></tr></table> + +<p class='center'> +<span class="smcap">Copyright, 1915, by</span><br /> G. W. DILLINGHAM COMPANY<br /> +<span style='font-size:smaller'><i>The Highgrader</i></span> +</p> + +<hr class='dashed' /> + +<h3 class="toc"><a name="Contents" id="Contents"></a>Contents</h3> + +<table border="0" width="500" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; font-variant:small-caps;"> +<col style="width:15%;" /> +<col style="width:5%;" /> +<col style="width:70%;" /> +<col style="width:10%;" /> +<tr> +<td align='right'><span style='font-size:x-small'>CHAPTER</span></td> +<td></td><td></td><td align="right"><span style='font-size:x-small'>PAGE</span></td></tr> +<tr> + <td align="right">I</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left">The Campers</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#THE_CAMPERS_232">11</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right">II</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left">Mr. Verinder Complains</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#MR_VERINDER_COMPLAINS_412">18</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right">III</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left">Night Fishing</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#NIGHT_FISHING_700">28</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right">IV</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left">Fugitives From Justice</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#FUGITIVES_FROM_JUSTICE_1134">44</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right">V</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left">"I'm Here, Neighbor"</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#IM_HERE_NEIGHBOR_1439">56</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right">VI</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left">Lord Farquhar Gives Moya a Hint</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#LORD_FARQUHAR_GIVES_MOYA_A_HINT_1901">71</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right">VII</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left">Moya's Highwayman</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#MOYAS_HIGHWAYMAN_2299">84</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right">VIII</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left">The Bad Penny Again</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#THE_BAD_PENNY_AGAIN_2802">102</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right">IX</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left">"An Out and Out Rotter"</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#AN_OUT_AND_OUT_ROTTER_3123">113</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right">X</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left">Old Friends</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#OLD_FRIENDS_3402">123</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right">XI</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left">A Blizzard</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#A_BLIZZARD_3943">141</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right">XII</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left">Out of the Storm a Man</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#OUT_OF_THE_STORM_A_MAN_4373">157</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right">XIII</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left">Shot to the Core with Sunlight</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#SHOT_TO_THE_CORE_WITH_SUNLIGHT_4741">170</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right">XIV</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left">"Prove It!... Prove It!"</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#PROVE_IT_PROVE_IT_5019">180</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right">XV</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left">A Highgrader—in Principle</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#A_HIGHGRADERmdashIN_PRINCIPLE_5290">189</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right">XVI</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left">One Maid—Two Men</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#ONE_MAIDmdashTWO_MEN_5596">201</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right">XVII</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left">A Warning</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#A_WARNING_6063">218</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right">XVIII</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left">Two Ambushes</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#TWO_AMBUSHES_6620">237</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right">XIX</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left">Mr. Verinder is Treated to a Surprise</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#MR_VERINDER_IS_TREATED_TO_A_SURPRISE_6789">243</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right">XX</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left">Colter Takes a Hand</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#COLTER_TAKES_A_HAND_6999">250</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right">XXI</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left">Spirit Rapping?</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#SPIRIT_RAPPING_7400">264</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right">XXII</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left">The Acid Test</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#THE_ACID_TEST_7678">274</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right">XXIII</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left">Captain Kilmeny Retires</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CAPTAIN_KILMENY_RETIRES_7921">284</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right">XXIV</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left">Two in a Bucket</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#TWO_IN_A_BUCKET_8102">291</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right">XXV</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left">Homing Hearts</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#HOMING_HEARTS_8647">309</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<hr class='dashed' /> + +<h3 class="loi"><a name="Illustrations" id="Illustrations"></a>Illustrations</h3> +<table border="0" width="500" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="Illustrations" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> +<col style="width:80%;" /> +<col style="width:20%;" /> +<tr> +<td></td> +<td align='right'><span style='font-size:x-small'>PAGE</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Kilmeny's alert eyes swept again and again the trail leading up the gulch. He did not intend to be caught napping by the officers. . . . <i>Frontispiece</i></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#illus-000">67</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">"He's hooked pretty fast. take your time about getting him into your net. These big fellows are likely to squirm away."</td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#illus-001">33</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">They rode through a world shot to the core with sunlight. The snow sparkled and gleamed with it.</td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#illus-002">177</a></td></tr> +</table> + +<hr class='full' /> + +<h2>THE HIGHGRADER</h2> + +<p class='center'>PRELUDE</p> + +<p>A young idealist, <i>ætat</i> four, was selling stars to put in the sky. She +had cut them with her own scissors out of red tissue paper, so that she +was able to give a guarantee.</p> + +<p>"But you'll have to get the ladder out of our bedroom to put 'em up +wiv," she told purchasers honestly.</p> + +<p>The child was a wild dark creature, slim and elfish, with a queer little +smile that flashed sudden as an April sun.</p> + +<p>It was evening, on the promenade deck of an ocean liner. The sea was +like glass and the swell hardly perceptible. Land was in sight, a vague +uneven line rising mist-like on the horizon. Before morning the +<i>Victorian</i> would be running up the St. Lawrence. Even for the most +squeamish the discomforts of the voyage lay behind. A pleasant good +fellowship was in the air. In some it took the form of an idle +contentment, a vague regret that ties newly formed must so soon be +broken. In others it found an expression more buoyant. Merry<a class="pagenum" name="page_6" id="page_6" title="6"></a> voices of +shuffleboard players drifted forward. Young couples paced the deck and +leaned over the rail to watch the phosphorescent glow. The open windows +of the smoking-room gave forth the tinkle of glasses and the low rattle +of chips. All sounds blended into a mellow harmony.</p> + +<p>"What's your price on a whole constellation with a lovers' moon thrown +in?" inquired a young man lounging in a deck chair.</p> + +<p>The vendor of stars looked at him in her direct serious fashion. "I fink +I tan't sell you all 'at, but I'll make you a moon to go wiv the +stars—not a weally twuly one, jus' a make-believe moon," she added in a +whisper.</p> + +<p>An irritated voice made itself heard. "Steward, have you seen that child +anywhere? The naughty little brat has run away again—and I left her +only a minute."</p> + +<p>The dealer in celestial supplies came to earth.</p> + +<p>"I'm goin' to be smacked," she announced with grave conviction.</p> + +<p>An unvoiced conspiracy formed itself instantly in her behalf. A lady in +a steamer chair gathered the child under the shelter of her rug. An +eight-year-old youngster knotted his fists valiantly. The young man who +had priced a constellation considered the chances of a cutting-out +expedition.</p> + +<p>"She should have been in bed long ago. I just stepped out to speak to +our room steward and when<a class="pagenum" name="page_7" id="page_7" title="7"></a> I came back she was gone," the annoyed +governess was explaining.</p> + +<p>Discovery was imminent. The victim prepared herself for the worst.</p> + +<p>"I don't care," she protested to her protector. "It's ever so nicer to +stay up, an' if it wasn't runnin' away it would be somefing else."</p> + +<p>At this bit of philosophy the lounger chuckled, rose swiftly, and +intercepted the dragon.</p> + +<p>"When do I get that walk you promised me, Miss Lupton? What's the matter +with right now?"</p> + +<p>The governess was surprised, since it was the first she had heard of any +walk. Flattered she was, but still faithful to duty.</p> + +<p>"I'm looking for Moya. She knows she must always go to her room after +tea and stay there. The naughty child ran away."</p> + +<p>"She's all right. I saw her snuggled under a rug with Mrs. Curtis not +two minutes ago. Just a turn or two in this lovely night."</p> + +<p>Drawn by the magnet of his manhood, Moya slipped into the chair beside +the eight-year-old.</p> + +<p>"I'd kick her darned shins if she spanked me," boasted he of the eight +years.</p> + +<p>Moya admired his courage tremendously. Her dark eyes followed the +retreating figure of her governess. "I'm 'fraid."</p> + +<p>"Hm! Bet I wouldn't be. Course, you're only a girl."<a class="pagenum" name="page_8" id="page_8" title="8"></a></p> + +<p>His companion pleaded guilty with a sigh and slipped her hand into his +beneath the steamer rug.</p> + +<p>"It's howwid to be a dirl," she confided.</p> + +<p>"Bet I wouldn't be one."</p> + +<p>"You talk so funny."</p> + +<p>"Don't either. I'm a Namerican. Tha's how we all talk."</p> + +<p>"I'm Irish. Mith Lupton says 'at's why I'm so naughty," the sinner +confessed complacently.</p> + +<p>Confidences were exchanged. Moya explained that she was a norphan and +had nobody but a man called Guardy, and he was not her very own. She +lived in Sussex and had a Shetland pony. Mith Lupton was horrid and was +always smacking her. When she said her prayers she always said in soft +to herself, "But pleathe, God, don't bless Mith Lupton." They were +taking a sea voyage for Moya's health, and she had been seasick just the +teentiest weentiest bit. Jack on his part could proudly affirm that he +had not missed a meal. He lived in Colorado on a ranch with his father, +who had just taken him to England and Ireland to visit his folks. He +didn't like England one little bit, and he had told his cousin Ned so +and they had had a fight. As he was proceeding to tell details Miss +Lupton returned from her stroll.</p> + +<p>She brought Moya to her feet with a jerk. "My goodness! Who will you +pick up next? Now walk along to your room, missie."<a class="pagenum" name="page_9" id="page_9" title="9"></a></p> + +<p>"Yes, Mith Lupton."</p> + +<p>"Haven't I told you not to talk to strangers?"</p> + +<p>"He isn't stwanger. He's Jack," announced Moya stanchly.</p> + +<p>"I'll teach you to run away as soon as my back is turned. You should +have been in bed an hour ago."</p> + +<p>"I tan't unbutton myself."</p> + +<p>"A likely reason. Move along, now."</p> + +<p>Having been remiss in her duty, Miss Lupton was salving her conscience +by being extra severe now. She hurried her charge away.</p> + +<p>Suddenly Moya stopped. "Pleathe, my han'erchif."</p> + +<p>"Have you lost it? Where is it?"</p> + +<p>"I had it in the chair."</p> + +<p>"Then run back and get it."</p> + +<p>Moya's thin white legs flashed along the deck. Like a small hurricane +she descended upon the boy. Her arms went around his neck and for an +instant he was smothered in her embrace, dark ringlets flying about his +fair head.</p> + +<p>"Dood-night, Jack."</p> + +<p>A kiss fell helter-skelter on his cheek and she was gone, tugging a +little handkerchief from her pocket as she ran.</p> + +<p>The boy did not see her again. Before she was up he and his father left +the boat at Quebec. Jack wondered whether she had been smacked, after +all.<a class="pagenum" name="page_10" id="page_10" title="10"></a> Once or twice during the day he thought of her, but the excitement +of new sights effaced from his mind the first romance his life had +known.</p> + +<p>But for nearly a week Moya added a codicil silently to her prayer. "And, +God, pleathe bless Jack."</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a class="pagenum" name="page_11" id="page_11" title="11"></a> +<a name="THE_CAMPERS_232" id="THE_CAMPERS_232"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER I</h2> +<h3>THE CAMPERS</h3> +</div> + +<p>Inside the cabin a man was baking biscuits and singing joyously, "It's a +Long, Long Way to Tipperary." Outside, another whistled softly to +himself while he arranged his fishing tackle. From his book he had +selected three flies and was attaching them to the leader. Nearest the +rod he put a royal coachman, next to it a blue quill, and at the end a +ginger quill.</p> + +<p>The cook, having put his biscuits in the oven, filled the doorway. He +was a big, strong-set man, with a face of leather. Rolled-up sleeves +showed knotted brown arms white to the wrists with flour. His eyes were +hard and steady, but from the corners of them innumerable little +wrinkles fell away and crinkled at times to mirth.</p> + +<p>"First call to dinner in the dining-car," he boomed out in a heavy bass.</p> + +<p>Two men lounging under a cottonwood beside the river showed signs of +life. One of them was scarcely more than a boy, perhaps twenty, a +pleasant amiable youth with a weak chin and eyes that<a class="pagenum" name="page_12" id="page_12" title="12"></a> held no steel. +His companion was nearer forty than thirty, a hard-faced citizen who +chewed tobacco and said little.</p> + +<p>"Where you going to fish to-night, Crumbs?" the cook asked of the man +busy with the tackle.</p> + +<p>"Think I'll try up the river, Colter—start in above the Narrows and +work down, mebbe. Where you going?"</p> + +<p>"Me for the Meadows. I'm after the big fellows. Going to hang the Indian +sign on them with a silver doctor and a Jock Scott. The kid here got his +three-pounder on a Jock Scott."</p> + +<p>The man who had been called Crumbs put his rod against the side of the +house and washed his hands in a tin pan resting on a stump. He was a +slender young fellow with lean, muscular shoulders and the bloom of many +desert suns on his cheeks and neck.</p> + +<p>"Going to try a Jock Scott myself after it gets dark."</p> + +<p>The boy who had come up from the river's bank grinned. "Now I've shown +you lads how to do it you'll all be catching whales."</p> + +<p>"Once is a happenstance, twice makes a habit. Do it again, Curly, and +we'll hail you king of the river," Colter promised, bringing to the +table around which they were seating themselves a frying pan full of +trout done to a crisp brown. "Get the coffee, Mosby. There's beer in the +icebox, kid."<a class="pagenum" name="page_13" id="page_13" title="13"></a></p> + +<p>They ate in their shirtsleeves, camp fashion, on an oil cloth scarred +with the marks left by many hot dishes. They brought to dinner the +appetites of outdoors men who had whipped for hours a turbid stream +under an August sun. Their talk was strong and crisp, after the fashion +of the mining West. It could not be printed without editing, yet in that +atmosphere it was without offense. There is a time for all things, even +for the elemental talk of frontiersmen on a holiday.</p> + +<p>Dinner finished, the fishermen lolled on the grass and smoked.</p> + +<p>A man cantered out of the patch of woods above and drew up at the cabin, +disposing himself for leisurely gossip.</p> + +<p>"Evening, gentlemen. Heard the latest?" He drew a match across his chaps +and lit the cigarette he had rolled.</p> + +<p>"We'll know after you've told us what it is," Colter suggested.</p> + +<p>"The Gunnison country ce'tainly is being honored, boys. A party of +effete Britishers are staying at the Lodge. Got in last night. I seen +them when they got off the train—me lud and me lady, three young ladies +that grade up A1, a Johnnie boy with an eyeglass, and another lad who +looks like one man from the ground up. Also, and moreover, there's a +cook, a hawss wrangler, a hired girl to button<a class="pagenum" name="page_14" id="page_14" title="14"></a> the ladies up the back, +and a valley chap to say 'Yes, sir, coming, sir,' to the dude."</p> + +<p>"You got it all down like a book, Steve," grinned Curly.</p> + +<p>"Any names?" asked Colter.</p> + +<p>"Names to burn," returned the native. "A whole herd of names, honest to +God. Most any of 'em has five or six, the way the Denver <i>Post</i> tells +it. Me, I can't keep mind of so many fancy brands. I'll give you the A B +C of it. The old parties are Lord James and Lady Jim Farquhar, leastways +I heard one of the young ladies call her Lady Jim. The dude has Verinder +burnt on about eight trunks, s'elp me. Then there's a Miss Dwight and a +Miss Joyce Seldon—and, oh, yes! a Captain Kilmeny, and an Honorable +Miss Kilmeny, by ginger."</p> + +<p>Colter flashed a quick look at Crumbs. A change had come over that young +man's face. His blue eyes had grown hard and frosty.</p> + +<p>"It's a plumb waste of money to take a newspaper when you're around, +Steve," drawled Colter, in amiable derision. "Happen to notice the color +of the ladies' eyes?"</p> + +<p>The garrulous cowpuncher was on the spot once more. "Sure, I did, +leastways one of them. I want to tell you lads that Miss Joyce Seldon is +the prettiest skirt that ever hit this neck of the woods—and her eyes, +say, they're like pansies, soft and deep and kinder velvety."<a class="pagenum" name="page_15" id="page_15" title="15"></a></p> + +<p>The fishermen shouted. Their mirth was hearty and uncontained.</p> + +<p>"Go to it, Steve. Tell us some more," they demanded joyously.</p> + +<p>Crumbs, generally the leader in all the camp fun, had not joined in the +laughter. He had been drawing on his waders and buckling on his creel. +Now he slipped the loop of the landing net over his head.</p> + +<p>"We want a full bill of particulars, Steve. You go back and size up the +eyes of the lady lord and the other female Britishers," ordered Curly +gayly.</p> + +<p>"Go yore own self, kid. I ain't roundin' up trouble for no babe just out +of the cradle," retorted the grinning rider. "What's yore hurry, +Crumbs?"</p> + +<p>The young man addressed had started away but now turned. "No hurry, I +reckon, but I'm going fishing."</p> + +<p>Steve chuckled. "You're headed in a bee line for Old Man Trouble. The +Johnnie boy up at the Lodge is plumb sore on this outfit. Seems that you +lads raised ructions last night and broken his sweet slumbers. He's got +the kick of a government mule coming. Why can't you wild Injuns behave +proper?"</p> + +<p>"We only gave Curly a chapping because he let the flapjacks burn," +returned Crumbs with a smile. "You see, he's come of age most, Curly +has. He'd ought to be responsible now, but he ain't. So we gave him what +was coming to him."<a class="pagenum" name="page_16" id="page_16" title="16"></a></p> + +<p>"Well, you explain that to Mr. Verinder if he sees you. He's sure on his +hind laigs about it."</p> + +<p>"I expect he'll get over it in time," Crumbs said dryly. "Well, so-long, +boys. Good fishing to-night."</p> + +<p>"Same to you," they called after him.</p> + +<p>"Some man, Crumbs," commented Steve.</p> + +<p>"He'll stand the acid," agreed Colter briefly.</p> + +<p>"What's his last name? I ain't heard you lads call him anything but +Crumbs. I reckon that's a nickname."</p> + +<p>Curly answered the question of the cowpuncher. "His name 's +Kilmeny—Jack Kilmeny. His folks used to live across the water. Maybe +this Honorable Miss Kilmeny and her brother are some kin of his."</p> + +<p>"You don't say!"</p> + +<p>"Course I don't know about that. His dad came over here when he was a +wild young colt. Got into some trouble at home, the way I heard it. +Bought a ranch out here and married. His family was high moguls in +England—or, maybe, it was Ireland. Anyhow, they didn't like Mrs. +Kilmeny from the Bar Double C ranch. Ain't that the way of it, Colter?"</p> + +<p>The impassive gaze of the older man came back from the rushing river. +"You know so much about it, Curly, I'll not butt in with any more +misinformation," he answered with obvious sarcasm.<a class="pagenum" name="page_17" id="page_17" title="17"></a></p> + +<p>Curly flushed. "I'd ought to know. Jack's father and mine were friends, +so's he and me."</p> + +<p>"How come you to call him Crumbs?"</p> + +<p>"That's a joke, Steve. Jack's no ordinary rip-roaring, hell-raisin' +miner. He knows what's what. That's why we call him Crumbs—because he's +fine bred. Pun, see. Fine bred—crumbs. Get it?"</p> + +<p>"Sure I get it, kid. I ain't no Englishman. You don't need a two-by-four +to pound a josh into my cocoanut," the rider remonstrated.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a class="pagenum" name="page_18" id="page_18" title="18"></a> +<a name="MR_VERINDER_COMPLAINS_412" id="MR_VERINDER_COMPLAINS_412"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER II</h2> +<h3>MR. VERINDER COMPLAINS</h3> +</div> + +<p>Jack Kilmeny followed the pathway which wound through the woods along +the bank of the river. Occasionally he pushed through a thick growth of +young willows or ducked beneath the top strand of a neglected wire +fence.</p> + +<p>Beyond the trees lay a clearing. At the back of this, facing the river, +was a large fishing lodge built of logs and finished artistically in +rustic style. It was a two-story building spread over a good deal of +ground space. A wide porch ran round the front and both sides. Upon the +porch were a man in an armchair and a girl seated on the top step with +her head against the corner post.</p> + +<p>A voice hailed Kilmeny. "I say, my man."</p> + +<p>The fisherman turned, discovered that he was the party addressed, and +waited.</p> + +<p>"Come here, you!" The man in the armchair had taken the cigar from his +mouth and was beckoning to him.</p> + +<p>"Meaning me?" inquired Kilmeny.<a class="pagenum" name="page_19" id="page_19" title="19"></a></p> + +<p>"Of course I mean you. Who else could I mean?"</p> + +<p>The fisherman drew near. In his eyes sparkled a light that belied his +acquiescence.</p> + +<p>"Do you belong to the party camped below?" inquired he of the rocking +chair, one eyeglass fixed in the complacent face.</p> + +<p>The guilty man confessed.</p> + +<p>"Then I want to know what the deuce you meant by kicking up such an +infernal row last night. I couldn't sleep a wink for hours—not for +hours, dash it. It's an outrage—a beastly outrage. What!"</p> + +<p>The man with the monocle was smug with the self-satisfaction of his +tribe. His thin hair was parted in the middle and a faint straw-colored +mustache decorated his upper lip. Altogether, he might measure five feet +five in his boots. The miner looked at him gravely. No faintest hint of +humor came into the sea-blue eyes. They took in the dapper Britisher as +if he had been a natural history specimen.</p> + +<p>"So kindly tell them not to do it again," Dobyans Verinder ordered in +conclusion.</p> + +<p>"If you please, sir," added the young woman quietly.</p> + +<p>Kilmeny's steady gaze passed for the first time to her. He saw a slight +dark girl with amazingly live eyes and a lift to the piquant chin that +was arresting. His hat came off promptly.<a class="pagenum" name="page_20" id="page_20" title="20"></a></p> + +<p>"We didn't know anybody was at the Lodge," he explained.</p> + +<p>"You wouldn't, of course," she nodded, and by way of explanation: "Lady +Farquhar is rather nervous. Of course we don't want to interfere with +your fun, but——"</p> + +<p>"There will be no more fireworks at night. One of the boys had a +birthday and we were ventilating our enthusiasm. If we had known——"</p> + +<p>"Kindly make sure it doesn't happen again, my good fellow," cut in +Verinder.</p> + +<p>Kilmeny looked at him, then back at the girl. The dapper little man had +been weighed and found wanting. Henceforth, Verinder was not on the map.</p> + +<p>"Did you think we were wild Utes broke loose from the reservation? I +reckon we were some noisy. When the boys get to going good they don't +quite know when to stop."</p> + +<p>The eyes of the young woman sparkled. The fisherman thought he had never +seen a face more vivid. Such charm as it held was too irregular for +beauty, but the spirit that broke through interested by reason of its +hint of freedom. She might be a caged bird, but her wings beat for the +open spaces.</p> + +<p>"Were they going good last night?" she mocked prettily.</p> + +<p>"Not real good, ma'am. You see, we had no<a class="pagenum" name="page_21" id="page_21" title="21"></a> town to shoot up, so we just +punctured the scenery. If we had known you were here——"</p> + +<p>"You would have come and shot us up," she charged gayly.</p> + +<p>Kilmeny laughed. "You're a good one, neighbor. But you don't need to +worry." He let his eyes admire her lazily. "Young ladies are too seldom +in this neck of the woods for the boys to hurt any. Give them a chance +and they would be real good to you, ma'am."</p> + +<p>His audacity delighted Moya Dwight. "Do you think they would?"</p> + +<p>"In our own barbaric way, of course."</p> + +<p>"Do you ever scalp people?" she asked with innocent impudence.</p> + +<p>"It's a young country," he explained genially.</p> + +<p>"It has that reputation."</p> + +<p>"You've been reading stories about us," he charged. "Now we'll be on our +good behavior just to show you."</p> + +<p>"Thank you—if it isn't too hard."</p> + +<p>"They're good boys, though they do forget it sometimes."</p> + +<p>"I'm glad they do. They wouldn't interest me if they were too good. +What's the use of coming to Colorado if it is going to be as civilized +as England?"</p> + +<p>Verinder, properly scandalized at this free give and take with a +haphazard savage of the wilds, interrupted<a class="pagenum" name="page_22" id="page_22" title="22"></a> in the interest of +propriety. "I'll not detain you any longer, my man. You may get at your +fishing."</p> + +<p>The Westerner paid not the least attention to him. "My gracious, ma'am, +we think we're a heap more civilized than England. We ain't got any +militant suffragettes in this country—at least, I've never met up with +any."</p> + +<p>"They're a sign of civilization," the young woman laughed. "They prove +we're still alive, even if we are asleep."</p> + +<p>"We've got you beat there, then. All the women vote here. What's the +matter with you staying and running for governor?"</p> + +<p>"Could I—really?" she beamed.</p> + +<p>"Really and truly. Trouble with us is that we're so civilized we bend +over backward with it. You're going to find us mighty tame. The +melodramatic romance of the West is mostly in storybooks. What there was +of it has gone out with the cowpuncher."</p> + +<p>"What's a cowpuncher?"</p> + +<p>"He rides the range after cattle."</p> + +<p>"Oh—a cowboy. But aren't there any cowboys?"</p> + +<p>"They're getting seldom. The barb wire fence has put them out of +business. Mostly they're working for the moving picture companies now," +he smiled.<a class="pagenum" name="page_23" id="page_23" title="23"></a></p> + +<p>Mr. Verinder prefaced with a formal little cough a second attempt to +drive away this very assured native. "As I was saying, Miss Dwight, I +wouldn't mind going into Parliament, you know, if it weren't for the +bally labor members. I'm rather strong on speaking—that sort of thing, +you know. Used to be a dab at it. But I couldn't stand the bounders that +get in nowadays. Really, I couldn't."</p> + +<p>"And I had so counted on the cowboys. I'm going to be disappointed, I +think," Miss Dwight said to the Westerner quietly.</p> + +<p>Verinder had sense enough to know that he was being punished. He had +tried to put the Westerner out of the picture and found himself +eliminated instead. An angry flush rose to his cheeks.</p> + +<p>"That's the mistake you all make," Kilmeny told her. "The true romance +of the West isn't in its clothes and its trappings."</p> + +<p>"Where is it?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"In its spirit—in the hope and the courage born of the wide plains and +the clean hills—in its big democracy and its freedom from convention. +The West is a condition of mind."</p> + +<p>Miss Dwight was surprised. She had not expected a philosophy of this +nature from her chance barbarian. He had the hands of a working man, +brown and sinewy but untorn; yet there was the mark of distinction in +the lean head set so royally on splendid shoulders. His body, spare of +flesh<a class="pagenum" name="page_24" id="page_24" title="24"></a> and narrow of flank, had the lithe grace of a panther. She had +seen before that look of competence, of easy self-reliance. Some of the +men of her class had it—Ned Kilmeny, for instance. But Ned was an +officer in a fighting regiment which had seen much service. Where had +this tanned fisherman won the manner that inheres only in a leader of +men?</p> + +<p>"And how long does it take to belong to your West?" asked the young +woman, with the inflection of derision.</p> + +<p>But her mockery was a fraud. In both voice and face was a vivid +eagerness not to be missed.</p> + +<p>"Time hasn't a thing to do with it. Men live all their lives here and +are never Westerners. Others are of us in a day. I think you would +qualify early."</p> + +<p>She knew that she ought to snub his excursion into the personal, but she +was by nature unconventional.</p> + +<p>"How do you know?" she demanded quickly.</p> + +<p>"That's just a guess of mine," he smiled.</p> + +<p>A musical voice called from within the house. "Have you seen my +<i>Graphic</i>, Moya?"</p> + +<p>A young woman stood in the doorway, a golden-white beauty with soft +smiling eyes that showed a little surprise at sight of the fisherman. A +faint murmur of apology for the interruption escaped her lips.<a class="pagenum" name="page_25" id="page_25" title="25"></a></p> + +<p>Kilmeny could not keep his eyes from her. What a superb young creature +she was, what perfection in the animal grace of the long lines of the +soft rounded body! Her movements had a light buoyancy that was charming. +And where under heaven could a man hope to see anything lovelier than +this pale face with its crown of burnished hair so lustrous and +abundant?</p> + +<p>Miss Dwight turned to her friend. "I haven't seen the <i>Graphic</i>, Joyce, +dear."</p> + +<p>"Isn't it in the billiard room? Thought I saw it there. I'll look," +Verinder volunteered.</p> + +<p>"Good of you," Miss Joyce nodded, her eyes on the stranger who had +turned to leave.</p> + +<p>Kilmeny was going because he knew that he might easily outwear his +welcome. He had punished Verinder, and that was enough. The miner had +met too many like him not to know that the man belonged to the family of +common or garden snob. No doubt he rolled in wealth made by his father. +The fellow had studied carefully the shibboleths of the society with +which he wished to be intimate and was probably letter-perfect. None the +less, he was a bounder, a rank outsider tolerated only for his money. He +might do for the husband of some penniless society girl, but he would +never in the world be accepted by her as a friend or an equal. The +thought of him stirred the gorge of the fisherman. Very likely the man +might capture<a class="pagenum" name="page_26" id="page_26" title="26"></a> for a wife the slim dark girl with the quick eyes, or +even her friend, Joyce, choicest flower in a garden of maidens. Nowadays +money would do anything socially.</p> + +<p>"Cheekiest beggar I ever saw," fumed Verinder. "Don't see why you let +the fellow stay, Miss Dwight."</p> + +<p>The girl's scornful eyes came round to meet his. She had never before +known how cordially she disliked him.</p> + +<p>"Don't you?"</p> + +<p>She rose and walked quickly into the house.</p> + +<p>Verinder bit his mustache angrily. He had been cherishing a fiction that +he was in love with Miss Dwight and more than once he had smarted +beneath the lash of her contempt.</p> + +<p>Joyce sank gracefully into the easiest chair and flashed a dazzling +smile at him. "Has Moya been <i>very</i> unkind, Mr. Verinder?"</p> + +<p>He had joined the party a few days before at Chicago and this was the +first sign of interest Miss Seldon had shown in him. Verinder was +grateful.</p> + +<p>"Dashed if I understand Miss Dwight at all. She blows hot and cold," he +confided in a burst of frankness.</p> + +<p>"That's just her way. We all have our moods, don't we? I mean we poor +women. Don't all the poets credit us with inconstancy?" The least +ripple<a class="pagenum" name="page_27" id="page_27" title="27"></a> of amusement at her sex swelled in her throat and died away.</p> + +<p>"Oh, by Jove, if that's all! I say, do you have moods too, Miss Joyce?"</p> + +<p>Her long thick lashes fluttered down to the cheeks. Was she embarrassed +at his question? He felt a sudden lift of the heart, an access of +newborn confidence. Dobyans Verinder had never dared to lift his hopes +as high as the famous beauty Joyce Seldon. Now for the first time his +vanity stirred. Somehow—quite unexpectedly to him—the bars between +them were down. Was it possible that she had taken a fancy to him? His +imagination soared.</p> + +<p>For a moment her deep pansy eyes rested in his. He felt a sudden +intoxication of the senses. Almost with a swagger he drew up a chair and +seated himself beside her. Already he was the conquering male in +headlong pursuit. Nor was he disturbed by the least suspicion of having +been filled with the sensations and the impulses that she had contrived.</p> + +<p>Miss Seldon had that morning incidentally overheard Lady Farquhar tell +her husband that Dobyans Verinder's fortune must be nearer two million +pounds than one million. It was the first intimation she had been given +that he was such a tremendous catch.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a class="pagenum" name="page_28" id="page_28" title="28"></a> +<a name="NIGHT_FISHING_700" id="NIGHT_FISHING_700"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER III</h2> +<h3>NIGHT FISHING</h3> +</div> + +<p>Jack Kilmeny crossed the river by the rope ferry and followed the trail +that ran up. He took the water above the Narrows, about a mile and a +half from camp. The mosquitoes were pretty bad near the willows along +the shore, but as he got out farther they annoyed him less and with the +coming of darkness they ceased to trouble.</p> + +<p>The fish were feeding and he had a few strikes. Half a dozen eight and +nine-inch trout went into his creel, but though he was fishing along the +edge of the deep water, the big fellows would not be tempted. His watch +showed a quarter to ten by the moon when at last he hooked one worth +while.</p> + +<p>He was now down by the riffles not far from the Lodge. A long cast +brought him what fishermen along the Gunnison call a bump. Quietly he +dropped his fly in exactly the same spot. There was a tug, a flash of +white above the water, and, like an arrow, the trout was off. The reel +whirred as the line unwound. Kilmeny knew by the pressure that he had +hooked a good one and he played<a class="pagenum" name="page_29" id="page_29" title="29"></a> it carefully, keeping the line taut but +not allowing too much strain on it. After a short sharp fight he drew +the fish close enough to net the struggler. Of the Lochleven variety, he +judged the weight of the trout to be about two pounds.</p> + +<p>He would have liked to try another cast, but it was ten o'clock, the +limit set by law. He waded ashore, resolved to fish the riffles again +to-morrow.</p> + +<p>Next day brought Kilmeny the office of camp cook, which was taken in +turn by each of the men. Only two meals a day were eaten in camp, so +that he had several hours of leisure after the breakfast things were +cleared away. In a desultory fashion he did an hour or two of fishing, +though his mind was occupied with other things.</p> + +<p>The arrival of the party at the Lodge brought back to him vividly some +chapters of his life that had long been buried. His father, Archibald +Kilmeny, had married the daughter of a small cattleman some years after +he had come to Colorado. Though she had died while he was still a child, +Jack still held warmly in his heart some vivid memories of the +passionate uncurbed woman who had been his mother.</p> + +<p>She had been a belle in the cow country, charming in her way, beautiful +to the day of her death, but without education or restraint. Her husband +had made the mistake of taking her back to Ireland on a visit to his +people. The result had been unfortunate.<a class="pagenum" name="page_30" id="page_30" title="30"></a> She was unconquerably +provincial, entirely democratic, as uncultured as her native columbine. +Moreover, her temper was of the whirlwind variety. The staid life of the +old country, with its well-ordered distinctions of class and rutted +conventions, did not suit her at all. At traditions which she could not +understand the young wife scoffed openly. Before she left, veiled +dislike became almost open war. The visit had never been repeated, nor, +indeed, had she ever been invited again. This she had bitterly resented +and she had instilled into Jack the antagonism she herself felt. When he +was eight years old Jack's father had insisted on taking him back to +meet his relatives. Immediately upon his return the youngster's mother +had set about undermining any fondness he might have felt for his +British kindred. Three years later she had died.</p> + +<p>She had been a doting mother, with fierce gusts of passionate adoration +for her boy. Jack remembered these after he forgot her less amiable +qualities. He had grown up with an unreasonable feeling of dislike +toward those of his father's family who had failed to get along with +her. Some instinct of loyalty which he could hardly define set him +unconsciously in antagonism to his cousins at the Lodge. He had decided +not to make himself known to them. In a few days their paths would +diverge again for all time.<a class="pagenum" name="page_31" id="page_31" title="31"></a></p> + +<p>Dusk found him again in the river just above the riffles. He fished down +the stream slowly, shortening his line as darkness settled over the +hills. His luck was rather worse than usual. The trout were nosing the +flies rather than striking with any appetite.</p> + +<p>He was nearly opposite the Lodge when he noticed a fisherman in front of +him. Working steadily forward, Kilmeny found himself gaining on the +other. In order not to pass too near he struck out into the deeper water +toward the center of the river. When almost opposite the other he heard +a splash not twenty feet away, followed by the whirr of the reel as the +trout made for the deep water. From the shadows where his unknown +companion was obscured came the click of the line being wound up. There +was a flash of silver in the moonlight, and again the rapid whirl of the +reel.</p> + +<p>"You've hooked a whale, neighbor," Kilmeny called across.</p> + +<p>The voice that came back to him across the water was eager and glad. +Jack would have known its throb of youthful zest among a thousand. "Must +I let him have all the line he wants?"</p> + +<p>Kilmeny waded toward her as he gave counsel. "Don't make it too easy for +him, but don't jerk. Keep his nose up if you can."</p> + +<p>The humming of the reel and the steady click-click-click of the winding +alternated. The trout<a class="pagenum" name="page_32" id="page_32" title="32"></a> fought gamely and strongly, but the young woman +stuck to her work and would not give him any rest. Jack watched her +carefully. He saw that she was tiring, but he did not offer any help, +for he knew that she was a sportsman. She would want to win alone or not +at all.</p> + +<p>Yet he moved closer. The water was up to her hips, and no river in the +Rockies has a swifter current than the Gunnison. The bottom too is +covered with smooth slippery stones and bowlders, so that a misstep +might send her plunging down. Deprived of the use of her landing pole, +she could make less resistance to the tug of the stream, and the four or +five pounds of dynamic energy at the end of her line would give her all +she could do to take care of for the next few minutes. Her pole was +braced against her body, which made reeling difficult. The man beside +her observed that except for a tendency to raise the pole too much she +was playing her trout like a veteran.</p> + +<p>The thing that he had anticipated happened. Her foot slipped from its +insecure rock hold and she stumbled. His arm was round her waist in an +instant.</p> + +<p>"Steady! Take your time."</p> + +<p>"Thanks. I'm all right now."</p> + +<p>His right arm still girdled her slight figure. It met with his approval +that she had not cried out or dropped her pole, but he would not take +the chance of an accident.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style='width:350px'> +<a name="illus-001" id="illus-001"></a> +<img src="images/illus-033.jpg" alt=""HE'S HOOKED PRETTY FAST. TAKE YOUR TIME ABOUT GETTING HIM INTO YOUR NET. THESE BIG FELLOWS ARE LIKELY TO SQUIRM AWAY." P. 33" title="" width="350" /><br /> +<span class="caption">"HE'S HOOKED PRETTY FAST. TAKE YOUR TIME ABOUT GETTING HIM INTO YOUR NET. THESE BIG FELLOWS ARE LIKELY TO SQUIRM AWAY." P. 33</span> +</div> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="page_33" id="page_33" title="33"></a>The +trout was tiring. Inch by inch she brought him nearer. Sometimes he +would dart away again, but each dash for liberty was shorter and weaker +than the last.</p> + +<p>Presently she panted, "My landing net."</p> + +<p>It was caught in the creel. Kilmeny unfastened the net and brought it +round where it would be ready for instant use.</p> + +<p>"Tell me what I must do now."</p> + +<p>"He's hooked pretty fast. Take your time about getting him into your +net, and be careful then. These big fellows are likely to squirm away."</p> + +<p>It was a ticklish moment when she let go of the rod with her left hand +to slip the net under the trout, but she negotiated it in safety.</p> + +<p>"Isn't he a whopper?" she cried in delight. "He won't go into the creel +at all."</p> + +<p>"Then let me have him. The glory is yours. I'll be your gillie to carry +the game bag."</p> + +<p>He got his fingers through its gill before he took the hook from the +mouth of the fish. Carrying the trout in one hand and his pole in the +other, he waded slowly through the swift water to the shore.</p> + +<p>The girl's vibrant voice came to him as she splashed at his heels toward +the bank. "He's such a ripping good one. I'm so pleased. How much do you +think he will weigh?"<a class="pagenum" name="page_34" id="page_34" title="34"></a></p> + +<p>The young man took the catch far enough back from the river, so that +they could examine him in safety.</p> + +<p>"My guess is six pounds. He's the biggest taken this year so far. I +congratulate you, Miss Dwight."</p> + +<p>"I would never have got him if you hadn't been there to help me with +advice. But I really did it all myself, didn't I? If you had touched the +rod before I had him netted I'd never have forgiven you," she confessed, +eyes glowing with the joy of her achievement.</p> + +<p>"It's no joke to land one of these big fellows. I saw you were tired. +But it's the sporting thing to play your own fish."</p> + +<p>Her dark eyes flashed a questioning glance at him. She had been brought +up in a society where class lines were closely drawn, but her experience +gave her no data for judging this young man's social standing. Casual +inquiries of old Ballard, the caretaker at the Lodge, had brought her +the information that the party of fishermen were miners from the hills. +This one went by the name of Crumbs and sometimes Jack. What puzzled +Miss Dwight was the difficulty of reconciling him with himself. +Sometimes he used the speech and the slow drawl of the plainsman, and +again he spoke with the correctness of one who has known good society. +In spite of his careless garb he had the look of class. The well-shaped, +lightly poised head,<a class="pagenum" name="page_35" id="page_35" title="35"></a> the level blue eyes of a man unafraid, the grace +with which he carried himself, all denied that he was an uncouth rustic.</p> + +<p>A young woman of impulse, she yielded to an audacious one now. "I'm glad +you let me do the sporting thing, Mr.—Crumbs."</p> + +<p>His gentle laughter welled out. "Where did you get that?"</p> + +<p>"Isn't it your name?" she asked, with a lift of the dark eyebrows.</p> + +<p>He hesitated, barely an instant. Of course she knew perfectly well that +it was not his name. But it suited him not to give one more definite.</p> + +<p>"I reckon it's a name good enough to bring me to dinner by," he drawled, +smiling.</p> + +<p>He was back again in the Western idiom and manner. She wondered why. The +change had come when she had spoken his name. A certain wariness had +settled over his face like a mask. She could see that he was purposely +taking refuge in the class distinctions that presumably separated them. +Yet she could have sworn that nothing had been farther from his mind +during the exciting ten minutes in the water while voice and presence +and arm had steadied her for the battle.</p> + +<p>They walked together up the slope to the big house. A fishing costume is +not a thing of grace, but the one this girl wore could not eclipse the +elastic suppleness of the slender figure or the joy<a class="pagenum" name="page_36" id="page_36" title="36"></a> in life that +animated the vivid face with the black curls straying from beneath the +jaunty cap. The long hip waders she wore so briskly gave her the look of +a modern Rosalind. To deny her beauty was easy, but in the soft sifted +moonlight showered down through the trees it was impossible for +Kilmeny's eyes to refuse her an admission of charm. There was a hint of +pleasant adventure in the dusky eyes of this clean-limbed young nymph, a +plastic energy in the provoking dainty face, that stung his reluctant +admiration. She had the gift for comradeship, and with it a freedom of +mind unusual in one of her class.</p> + +<p>She ran up the steps of the Lodge lightly and thanked him with a +pleasant "Good-night." As he turned away Kilmeny came face to face with +another fisherman returning from the sport of the night. The man +opposite him was rather short and thickset. In his eyes was a look of +kind shrewd wisdom. Red-faced and white-bearded, he was unmistakably an +Englishman of the upper class.</p> + +<p>Miss Dwight introduced him as Lord Farquhar, and the men shook hands.</p> + +<p>"Guess what I've got," demanded the young woman, her hands behind her.</p> + +<p>"Heaven only knows. It might be anything from the measles to a new +lover," smiled Farquhar.</p> + +<p>She flashed upon him the fish that had been hidden behind her waders.<a class="pagenum" name="page_37" id="page_37" title="37"></a></p> + +<p>"By Jove! Catch him yourself?"</p> + +<p>She nodded, her eyes shining.</p> + +<p>Farquhar, very much a sportsman, wanted to know all about it, after +which he insisted on weighing the trout. Jack was dragged into the Lodge +to join in this function, and presently found himself meeting Lady +Farquhar, a pleasant plump lady who did not at all conform to the usual +stage conception of her part. Her smile was warm for this supple +blue-eyed engaging Westerner, but the latter did not need to be told +that behind her friendliness the instinct of the chaperone was alert. +The one swift glance she had thrown at Miss Dwight told him as much.</p> + +<p>Into the room drifted presently Miss Seldon, a late novel in her hand. +In contrast with her sheathed loveliness Miss Dwight looked like a young +girl. There was something very sweet and appealing in Moya's slim +indefinite figure of youth, with its suggestion of developing lines, but +most men ceased to look at her when Joyce swam within the orbit of their +vision.</p> + +<p>Joyce Seldon was frankly a beauty in every line and feature. Her +exquisite coloring, the soft amber hair so extravagant in quantity, the +long lashes which shaded deep lovely eyes, satisfied the senses no less +than the supple rounded young body which was carried with such light +grace. Kilmeny was not very impressionable, but in her presence the +world<a class="pagenum" name="page_38" id="page_38" title="38"></a> seemed somehow shot through with a new radiance. She laid upon +him the spell of women.</p> + +<p>Presently Dobyans Verinder dropped in with an empty creel and opened +wide supercilious eyes at sight of Jack. He was followed presently by +Captain Kilmeny and his sister, the latter a pretty Irish girl, quick of +tongue, quicker of eye, and ready for anything from flirting to fishing.</p> + +<p>From the talk, Jack gathered that Lord Farquhar and Miss Dwight had bet +their catch would outweigh that of the other three, Farquhar and she to +fish opposite the Lodge and the others half a mile below. The minority +party had won easily, thanks to the big trout and Verinder's obstinacy +in sticking to the flies he had used in England with success. There is a +type of Englishman that goes through life using the flies he was brought +up on and trying to make them fit all places and times. Any divergence +is a form of treason. Neither Farquhar nor Kilmeny happened to be of +that kind. They besieged the American with questions and soon had a +pretty fair idea of fishing on the Gunnison.</p> + +<p>"I should think you would ask me. I thought I was the one that catches +the big fish," suggested Miss Dwight, who had just returned from having +changed into more conventional attire.</p> + +<p>"Make a habit of it, my dear, and we will," Lord Farquhar assured her.<a class="pagenum" name="page_39" id="page_39" title="39"></a></p> + +<p>"Once is enough, Moya. I can't afford a pair of gloves every evening," +India Kilmeny protested.</p> + +<p>"By Jove, leave some of the big ones for us, Miss Dwight," implored the +captain. He was a spare wiry man, with the long clean build one expects +to see in soldiers. Long residence in India had darkened his skin to an +almost coffee brown, except for a wintry apple red where the high cheek +bones seemed about to push through.</p> + +<p>Supper, to which Lady Farquhar had insisted that the American stay, was +being served informally in the living-room. Verinder helped himself to a +sandwich, ogling Moya the while with his eyeglass.</p> + +<p>"I say, you know, I believe in you, Miss Dwight," he asserted.</p> + +<p>That young woman did not know why she resented more than usual his +wheedling attentions. Lady Jim had invited the millionaire to join their +party, as the girl very well knew, in order to give her charges a chance +at him. Not that Lady Farquhar liked the man. She knew him quite well +for an ill-bred little snob at heart. But he would pass muster in a +crowd, and none of the young women of the party could afford to sniff at +two millions sterling. It was entirely probable that Joyce, with her +beauty and her clear vision of the need of money in the scheme of +things, would marry as well as if she had a mother to look out for her. +But Lady Jim felt it her duty to plan for India and<a class="pagenum" name="page_40" id="page_40" title="40"></a> Moya. She was more +anxious about Miss Dwight than the other Irish girl, for Moya was likely +to bolt the traces. Her friendships with men were usually among +ineligibles. Verinder had shown a decided drift in her direction, but +the girl had not encouraged him in the least. If she had been possessed +of an independent fortune she could not have been more airily +indifferent to his advances.</p> + +<p>Since Captain Kilmeny had joined the party in Denver the plans of Lady +Farquhar had been modified. The soldier had taken an early opportunity +to tell her that he meant to ask Moya Dwight to marry him. He had been +in love with her for years and had asked her just before his regiment +left for India the last time. The captain was not rich, but he had +enough. It happened too that he was a clean honest gentleman who had +made a reputation for efficiency and gallantry in the army. If he was +not brilliant, he was at least thorough. Lady Farquhar was quite willing +to back his suit so far as she could.</p> + +<p>"He's our kind, Ned Kilmeny is," she had told her husband. "I gave Moya +her chance with Verinder but I should have been disappointed in her if +she had taken him. If she will only fall in love with Ned I'll forgive +her all the queer things she is always doing."</p> + +<p>Farquhar had chuckled. "It's an odds-on chance she'll not fancy him, +Di."<a class="pagenum" name="page_41" id="page_41" title="41"></a></p> + +<p>"For Heaven's sake, why not?" his wife had asked impatiently. "Does she +expect to marry an emperor?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know what she expects. The subject of matrimony is not +all-important to Moya yet. But some day it will be—and then may I be +there to see!"</p> + +<p>"You're so ridiculously wrapped up in her," Lady Jim accused with a +smile. "Why do you expect her love affair to be so interesting? For my +part, I think Ned quite good enough for her."</p> + +<p>"Oh, he's good enough. That isn't quite the point, is it? Moya wants to +be stormed, to be swept from her feet into the arms of the man she is +ready to love. A sort of a Lochinvar business—full of thrills and great +moments. Ned can't give her those."</p> + +<p>"No, I suppose not. Pity she can't be sensible."</p> + +<p>"There are enough of us sensible, Di. We can spare her a few years yet +for romance. When she grows sensible she'll have to give up something +she can't afford to lose."</p> + +<p>His wife looked at him and smiled fondly. "You haven't quite lost it +yourself, Jim."</p> + +<p>It was true enough that Lord Farquhar retained an interest in life that +was refreshing. This evening his eyes gleamed while the Westerner told +of the frontier day program to be held at the little town of Gunnison +next day.<a class="pagenum" name="page_42" id="page_42" title="42"></a></p> + +<p>"You and your friends are miners, I understand. You'll not take part, +then?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"I used to punch cows. My name is entered for the riding. The boys want +me to take a turn."</p> + +<p>India Kilmeny sat up straight. "Let's go. We can ride up in the morning. +It will be jolly. All in favor of going eat another sandwich."</p> + +<p>"It will be pretty woolly—quite different from anything you have seen," +the miner suggested.</p> + +<p>"Thought we came here to fish," Verinder interposed. "Great bore looking +at amateur shows—and it's a long ride."</p> + +<p>"Move we go. What say, Lady Farquhar?" put in Captain Kilmeny.</p> + +<p>"Do let's go," Moya begged.</p> + +<p>"I don't see why we shouldn't," Lady Farquhar smiled. "But I'm like Mr. +Verinder about riding. If he'll drive me up the rest of you can go on +horseback."</p> + +<p>"Delighted, 'm sure."</p> + +<p>Verinder came to time outwardly civil but inwardly fuming. What the +deuce did Lady Farquhar mean? Captain Kilmeny would have five hours +clear with Miss Dwight and Miss Seldon during the ride back and forth. +Ever since the soldier had joined the party things had been going badly.</p> + +<p>"If we're going it's time you girls were in bed. You've had a hard day +and to-morrow will be another," Lady Jim pronounced.<a class="pagenum" name="page_43" id="page_43" title="43"></a></p> + +<p>The Westerner rose to go.</p> + +<p>"Night's young yet. Stop and sit in with us to a game of poker. What!" +Farquhar invited.</p> + +<p>"My pocketbook is at the camp," the American demurred.</p> + +<p>"I'll be your banker," his host volunteered.</p> + +<p>The ladies said good-night and departed. Chairs were drawn to the card +table, chips sold, and hands dealt. The light of morning was breaking +before Kilmeny made his way back to camp. He had in his pockets one +hundred seventy three dollars, most of which had recently been the +property of Dobyans Verinder.</p> + +<p>An early start for Gunnison had been agreed upon by the fishermen at the +camp. To go to bed now was hardly worth while. Jack took a towel from +the willow bush upon which it was hanging, went down to the river, +stripped, and from a rock ten feet above a deep pool dived straight as +an arrow into the black water. The swirl of the current swept him into +the shallower stream below. He waded ashore, beautiful in his supple +slimness as an Apollo, climbed the rock a second time, and again knew +the delightful shock of a dive into icy water fresh from the mountain +snows.</p> + +<p>Ten minutes later he wakened the camp by rattling the stove lids.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you sluggards! Time to hit the floor," he shouted.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a class="pagenum" name="page_44" id="page_44" title="44"></a> +<a name="FUGITIVES_FROM_JUSTICE_1134" id="FUGITIVES_FROM_JUSTICE_1134"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2> +<h3>FUGITIVES FROM JUSTICE</h3> +</div> + +<p>At the Lodge too an early breakfast was held, though it was five hours +later than the one at the camp. The whole party was down by nine-thirty +and was on the road within the hour. The morning was such a one as only +the Rockies can produce. The wine of it ran through the blood warm and +stimulating. A blue sky flecked with light mackerel clouds stretched +from the fine edge of the mountains to the ragged line of hills that cut +off the view on the other side.</p> + +<p>The horses were keen for the road and the pace was brisk. It was not +until half the distance had been covered that Joyce, who was riding +beside the captain, found opportunity for conversation.</p> + +<p>"You sat up late, didn't you?"</p> + +<p>"Early," the soldier laughed.</p> + +<p>"How did the savage behave himself?"</p> + +<p>"He went the distance well. We all contributed to the neat little roll +he carried away." Kilmeny smiled as he spoke. He was thinking of +Verinder, who had made a set against the miner and had tried<a class="pagenum" name="page_45" id="page_45" title="45"></a> to drive +him out by the size of his raises. The result had been unfortunate for +the millionaire.</p> + +<p>"He has a good deal of assurance, hasn't he?" she asked lightly.</p> + +<p>The captain hesitated. "Do you think that's quite the word? He fitted in +easily—wasn't shy or awkward—that sort of thing, you know—but he +wasn't obtrusive at all. Farquhar likes him."</p> + +<p>"He's rather interesting," Joyce admitted.</p> + +<p>She thought of him as a handsome untamed young barbarian, but it was +impossible for her to deny a certain amount of regard for any virile man +who admired her. The Westerner had not let his eyes rest often upon her, +but the subtle instinct of her sex had told her that he was very much +taken with her. Since Joyce Seldon was the center and circumference +about which most of her thoughts revolved, it followed that the young +man had chosen the sure way to her favor.</p> + +<p>Moya Dwight too found that the young fisherman flitted in and out of her +mind a good deal. He had told her, with that sardonic smile, that he was +a workingman. Indeed, there had been something almost defiant in the way +he had said it, as if he would not for a moment accept their hospitality +on false pretenses. But, surely, he was worlds apart from any laborer +she had ever seen. Last evening he had been as much at his ease as Lord +Farquhar himself. A little uncertainty about the use of the<a class="pagenum" name="page_46" id="page_46" title="46"></a> spoons and +forks had not disturbed him at all. In spite of the soft vocal elisions +of the West, his speech had a dignity that suggested breeding. It was +quite likely he was not a gentleman, according to the code in which she +had been brought up, but it was equally sure there burned in him that +dynamic spark of self-respect which is at the base of all good manners.</p> + +<p>The little town of Gunnison rioted with life. Born and brought up as she +had been in the iron caste of modern super-civilization, Moya found the +barbaric color of the occasion very appealing. As she looked down on the +arena from the box her party occupied, the heart of the girl throbbed +with the pure joy of it all. She loved this West, with its picturesque +chap-clad brown-faced riders. They were a hard-bitten lot, burned to a +brick red by the untempered sun of the Rockies. Cheerful sons of mirth +they were, carrying their years with a boyish exuberance that was +delightful.</p> + +<p>Most of the competitors for the bucking broncho championship had been +eliminated before the arrival of the party from the Lodge. Among the +three who had reached the finals was their guest of the previous +evening.</p> + +<p>"Jack Kilmeny will ride Teddy Roosevelt," blared the megaphone man.</p> + +<p>The English officer turned to Farquhar. "Didn't quite catch the name. +Sounded like my own."<a class="pagenum" name="page_47" id="page_47" title="47"></a></p> + +<p>"That's what I thought," contributed his sister. A moment later, she +added: "Why, it's Mr. Crumbs."</p> + +<p>That young man sauntered forward lazily, dragging his saddle by its +horn. He saddled the trembling animal warily, then swung lightly to the +seat. The broncho stood for an instant motionless, then humped itself +from the earth, an incarnate demon of action. As a pitcher, a weaver, a +sunfisher, this roan had no equal. Its ill-shaped nose and wicked red +eyes were enough to give one bad dreams. But the lean-flanked young +miner appeared clamped to the saddle. Lithe and sinuous as a panther, he +rode with a perfect ease that was captivating. Teddy tried all its +tricks. It went up into the air and came down with all four legs stiff +as iron posts. It shot forward in a series of quick sharp bucks. It +flung itself against the wall of the arena to crush the leg of this +rider who held the saddle with such perfect poise. But Jack Kilmeny was +equal to the occasion and more. When the brute went over backward, in a +somersault, he was out of the saddle and in again before the vicious +outlaw had staggered to its feet. Even the frontier West had never seen +a more daring and magnificent piece of horsemanship.</p> + +<p>Captain Kilmeny clapped his hands enthusiastically. "Bravo! Well done!" +He turned to Moya, who sat beside him. "Finest bit of rough-riding I<a class="pagenum" name="page_48" id="page_48" title="48"></a> +ever saw. Not one man in a million could have done it."</p> + +<p>"It's all in getting the hang of the thing, you know," drawled Verinder +complacently.</p> + +<p>Moya, who was leaning forward with her dark eyes fixed on the two superb +animals fighting for mastery in the arena, thought both comments +characteristic. The captain was a sportsman and a gentleman, the +millionaire was neither.</p> + +<p>India whispered in the ear of Moya. "He's as broadminded as a crab, just +about."</p> + +<p>The reference was of course to Verinder. "I think we ought to be fair, +even to a crab, dear," Miss Dwight answered dryly.</p> + +<p>The battle between the outlaw broncho and its rider was over. The +confidence of Teddy Roosevelt as well as its strength had been shaken. +The bucks of the pony were easy to foresee. Presently they ceased. The +horse stood with drooping head, foam dripping from its mouth, flanks +flecked with sweat stains.</p> + +<p>Kilmeny swung from the saddle, and at the same time Colter stepped into +the arena. He drew Jack aside and whispered in his ear. India, watching +the rough-rider through field glasses, saw the face of the young man +grow grim and hard. Without the delay of a moment he pushed through the +crowd that gathered to congratulate him and walked out of the grounds +with Colter.<a class="pagenum" name="page_49" id="page_49" title="49"></a></p> + +<p>The other two riders who had reached the finals were both experts in the +saddle. One of them, however, had been traveling with a Wild West show +and was too soft to hold his own against the bit of incarnate deviltry +he was astride. To save himself he had to clutch at the horn of the +saddle.</p> + +<p>"He's pulling leather," shouted one of the judges, and the man was waved +aside.</p> + +<p>The third cowpuncher made a good showing, but his horse lacked the +energy and spirit of Teddy Roosevelt. The unanimous decision of the +judges was in favor of Kilmeny. But when they sought for him to award +the prize the new champion was nowhere to be found.</p> + +<p>Moya Dwight felt with genuine disappointment that the man's courtesy had +failed. She and her friends had applauded his exploits liberally. The +least he could have done would have been to have made a short call at +their box. Instead, he had ignored them. She resolved to bear herself +more coldly if they met again.</p> + +<p>The early shadows of sunset were stretching down the rough mountain +sides by the time the visitors from the Lodge reached the river cañon on +their homeward way. Soon after this the champion rider and his friend +Colter passed them on a stretch of narrow road cut in the steep wall of +the gulch. The leathery face of the latter took them in impassively as +he gave them a little nod of recognition,<a class="pagenum" name="page_50" id="page_50" title="50"></a> but the younger man reined in +for a few words. He accepted their congratulations with a quiet "Glad +you enjoyed it," but it was plain that he was in a hurry. In his eyes +there was a certain hard wariness that seemed hardly to fit the +occasion. Moya could not avoid the impression that he was anxious about +something. As soon as he well could he put spurs to his horse and +cantered after his companion.</p> + +<p>"I don't like your savage as well as I thought I was going to. If he +can't be pleasanter than that you may keep him yourself, Moya," Joyce +announced with a smile.</p> + +<p>It was perhaps a quarter of an hour later that the sound of hard riding +reached them from the rear. Five dusty, hard-bitten men, all armed with +rifles and revolvers, drew level with them. The leader threw a crisp +question at Lord Farquhar.</p> + +<p>"Two riders pass you lately?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"One on a big sorrel and the other on a roan with white stockings on the +front feet?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Say anything?"</p> + +<p>"The younger one stopped for a few words. He is a Mr. Crumbs, camped on +the river just below us."</p> + +<p>The lank man with the rifle across his saddle bow laughed grimly. "Yes, +he is—not. His name is<a class="pagenum" name="page_51" id="page_51" title="51"></a> Kilmeny—Jack Kilmeny. I'm the sheriff of +Gunnison County—and I want him bad."</p> + +<p>"Did you say Kilmeny?" asked the captain sharply.</p> + +<p>"That's what I said—the man that won the broncho busting contest +to-day."</p> + +<p>To Moya, looking around upon the little group of armed men, there was a +menacing tenseness in their manner. Her mind was groping for an +explanation, but she understood this much—that the law was reaching out +for the devil-may-care youth who had so interested her.</p> + +<p>"What do you want with him? What has he done?" she cried quickly.</p> + +<p>"He and his friend held up the gatekeeper of the fair association and +got away with three thousand dollars."</p> + +<p>"Held up! Do you mean robbed?"</p> + +<p>"That's what I mean—vamoosed with the whole proceeds of the show. How +long since they passed?"</p> + +<p>"Between a quarter and half an hour," answered Farquhar.</p> + +<p>The sheriff nodded. "All ready, boys."</p> + +<p>The clattering hoofs disappeared in a cloud of dust down the road.</p> + +<p>The rough places of life had been padded for all these young women. +Never before had they come so close to its raw, ugly seams. The shadow +of<a class="pagenum" name="page_52" id="page_52" title="52"></a> the law, the sacredness of caste, had always guarded them.</p> + +<p>India turned upon her brother big dilated eyes. "He said Kilmeny. Who +can the man be?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know." He was silent a moment in frowning thought, struck by an +unwelcome idea. "You remember Uncle Archie. He had a son named Jack who +lives somewhere in Colorado. D'ye remember he came home when you were a +little kiddie? Stopped at granddad's."</p> + +<p>The girl nodded. "He fought you once, didn't he?"</p> + +<p>The captain nodded. The doubt began to grow into certainty. "Thought I +had seen his face before. He's our cousin Jack. That's who he is."</p> + +<p>"And now he's a highwayman. By Jove, he doesn't look it," contributed +Farquhar.</p> + +<p>"I don't believe it. Such nonsense!" flamed Moya.</p> + +<p>"Fancy! A real live highwayman to supper with us," Joyce reminded them +with sparkling eyes.</p> + +<p>"I'm sure he isn't. There must be a mistake."</p> + +<p>"He was troubled about something, Moya," Lord Farquhar suggested. "He +and his friend were riding fast and plainly in a hurry."</p> + +<p>"Didn't he stop to talk?"</p> + +<p>"He had to do that to avoid suspicion. I could see his mind wasn't on +what he was saying. The man was anxious."<a class="pagenum" name="page_53" id="page_53" title="53"></a></p> + +<p>"I thought you liked him," Moya charged scornfully.</p> + +<p>Her guardian smiled. "I did, but that isn't evidence that will acquit +him in court of being a road agent."</p> + +<p>"He's India's cousin—maybe. How could he be a criminal? Shall we have +to cut her and Captain Kilmeny now?" Miss Dwight demanded hotly.</p> + +<p>The captain laughed, but there was no mirth in his laughter. "You're a +stanch friend, Miss Dwight. By Jove, I hope you're right about him."</p> + +<p>Deep in her heart Moya was not at all sure. What did she know of him? +And why should she care what he was? The man was a stranger to her. +Forty-eight hours ago she had never seen him. Why was it that every good +looking vagabond with a dash of the devil in him drew on her sympathies? +She recalled now that he had hesitated when she had mentioned his name, +no doubt making up his mind to let her think him other than he was. The +sheriff must know what he was talking about when he said the man was an +outlaw. But the appearance of him pleaded potently. Surely those clear +unflinching eyes were not the homes of villainy. Nor could she find it +possible to think his gallant grace of bearing the possession of a +miscreant.</p> + +<p>Before the day was out her faith in him had<a class="pagenum" name="page_54" id="page_54" title="54"></a> sunk to zero. Captain +Kilmeny returned from the camp of the miners with the news that it was +deserted except for two of the deputies who had stayed to guard it +against the possible return of the robbers. He brought with him the +detailed story of the hold-up.</p> + +<p>Two masked men on horseback had robbed the treasurer of the Gunnison +County Fair association as he was driving to the bank to deposit the +receipts of the day. The men had not been recognized, but the +description of the horses corresponded closely to those ridden by +Kilmeny and Colter. It was recalled that these two men had disappeared +as soon as the bucking broncho contest was over, not half an hour before +the robbery. This would allow them just time to return to the corral on +the outskirts of the town, where they had left their mounts, and to +saddle so as to meet the treasurer on his way to the bank. It happened +that the corral was deserted at the time, the boy in charge having left +to see the finals of the contest. Cumulative evidence of guilt lay in +the disappearance from the fishing camp not only of the two men +suspected, but also of their companions, Curly and Mosby.</p> + +<p>"Think he really did it, Ned?" India asked her brother.</p> + +<p>"Can't say, sis. Looks like it," he answered gloomily.<a class="pagenum" name="page_55" id="page_55" title="55"></a></p> + +<p>Of the party at the Lodge only one member was pleased at the turn events +had taken. Verinder's manner was as openly triumphant as he dared allow +it to become. It cried offensively, "I told you so!"</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a class="pagenum" name="page_56" id="page_56" title="56"></a> +<a name="IM_HERE_NEIGHBOR_1439" id="IM_HERE_NEIGHBOR_1439"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER V</h2> +<h3>"I'M HERE, NEIGHBOR"</h3> +</div> + +<p>Moya still rode afternoons with her friends, fished occasionally, and +took her regular hand at bridge. But it was unaccountably true that her +zest in these amusements was gone. She could give no satisfactory reason +for it, but she felt as if something had passed out of her life forever. +It was as if the bubbling youth in her were quenched. The outstanding +note of her had been the eagerness with which she had run out to meet +new experiences. Now she found herself shrinking from them. Whenever she +could the girl was glad to slip away by herself. To the charge that she +was in love with this young vagabond she would have given a prompt +denial. Nevertheless, Lady Farquhar recognized the symptoms as +dangerous.</p> + +<p>On the fifth day after the Gunnison trip the young people at the Lodge +made a party to fish Sunbeam Creek. They followed the stream far into +the hills, riding along the trail which bordered it. Kilmeny and +Verinder carried lunch baskets,<a class="pagenum" name="page_57" id="page_57" title="57"></a> for they were to make a day of it and +return only in time for a late dinner.</p> + +<p>Moya made her brave pretense of gayety. With alacrity she responded to +Verinder's challenge of a bet on the relative sizes of their catches. +But as soon as the rest were out of sight she sat down in a shady spot +and fell to musing.</p> + +<p>How long she sat there, a sun-dappled nymph upon whom gleams of light +filtered through the leaves of the aspens, she had not the least idea. +The voice of a grizzled rider startled her from her dreams. Her lifted +eyes took in the grim look of the man, garnished with weapons ready to +his hands.</p> + +<p>"Mornin', miss," he nodded amiably.</p> + +<p>"Good-morning." And swift on the heels of it, "You are a deputy sheriff, +are you not?"</p> + +<p>"Rung the bell, ma'am. You belong to the English outfit, I reckon."</p> + +<p>She smiled. "I suppose so, though I don't know what an outfit is."</p> + +<p>"I mean to Lord What's-his-name's party."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I think I do. I'm rather sure of it."</p> + +<p>"Funny about some members of your crowd having the same name as the man +we're looking for."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Kilmeny, you mean?"</p> + +<p>"Jack Kilmeny! Yes, ma'am."</p> + +<p>"He introduced himself to us, but I don't think<a class="pagenum" name="page_58" id="page_58" title="58"></a> the name he went by was +Kilmeny. I was told it was Crumbs."</p> + +<p>"That's just a joke. His friends call him that because his people are +'way up in G. Fine bred—crumbs. Get the idea?"</p> + +<p>"I think so."</p> + +<p>"Came from the old country, his father did—son of some big gun over +there. Likely he's some kin to your friends."</p> + +<p>He put the last observation as a question, with a sharp glance from +under his heavy gray eyebrows. Moya chose to regard it as a statement.</p> + +<p>"Are you still searching for him?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"You bet we are. The sheriff's got a notion he's up in these hills +somewheres. A man answering his description was seen by some rancher. +But if you ask <i>me</i>, I'd say he was busy losing himself 'way off in +Routt County, clear off the map. He used to punch cows up there and he +knows all kinds of holes to hide in. It don't stand to reason he'd still +be fooling around here. He's bridle-wise and saddle-broke—knows every +turn of the road."</p> + +<p>"Yes," Moya assented listlessly.</p> + +<p>"He had his getaway all planned before ever he came down here. That's a +cinch. The fishing was all a bluff. The four of them had the hold-up +arranged weeks ago. They've gone into a hole and drawn it in after +them."<a class="pagenum" name="page_59" id="page_59" title="59"></a></p> + +<p>"Don't you think there's a chance he didn't do it?" she asked in a +forlorn way.</p> + +<p>"Not a chance. Jack Kilmeny and Colter pulled off the play. What the +others had to do with it I don't know."</p> + +<p>The deputy passed to the fishing in his conversation, hoped she would +have luck, stroked his white goatee, and presently departed.</p> + +<p>The man had scarcely disappeared around a bend in the gulch before a +sound startled her. Moya turned quickly, to see a man drop down the face +of a large rock to the ground. Even before he turned she recognized that +pantherine grace and her heart lost a beat.</p> + +<p>He came straight toward her, with the smile in his blue eyes that +claimed comradeship as a matter of course.</p> + +<p>"You—here," she gasped.</p> + +<p>"I'm here, neighbor. Where ought I to be—in Routt County losing +myself?"</p> + +<p>Her little hand was lost in his big brown fist, her gaze locked in his.</p> + +<p>"You heard him?"</p> + +<p>"Couldn't help it. I was working down through that grove of pines to the +river when I saw him."</p> + +<p>"He may come back." Her quick glance went up the gulch into which the +deputy had disappeared.</p> + +<p>"I reckon not. Let's sit down and talk."</p> + +<p>Her first thought had been of his danger, but<a class="pagenum" name="page_60" id="page_60" title="60"></a> she remembered something +else now. "No, I think not, Mr. Kilmeny."</p> + +<p>The deep eyes that met his steadily had in them the rapier flash. He +smiled.</p> + +<p>"Because I am a miscreant, I reckon," he drawled.</p> + +<p>"You say it, not I."</p> + +<p>"Now you're dodging, neighbor. You think it."</p> + +<p>"If so, do I think more than the truth?"</p> + +<p>A ripple of sardonic laughter stirred in him. "I see you have me +convicted and in the penitentiary already."</p> + +<p>"Your actions convict you."</p> + +<p>"So <i>you</i> think. Isn't it just possible you don't understand them?" +There was the faintest hint of derision in his polite inquiry.</p> + +<p>A light flashed in her dusky eyes, a shining hope newborn in her eager +heart. "Are you telling me that you are innocent?"</p> + +<p>"You've been thinking me guilty, then," he countered swiftly.</p> + +<p>"What else could I think?"</p> + +<p>"You might have waited to hear the defense."</p> + +<p>"If you had stayed to make one, but you ran away."</p> + +<p>"How do you know I did?"</p> + +<p>"You were gone when the officers reached your camp."</p> + +<p>His smile was grim and his voice defiant. "There<a class="pagenum" name="page_61" id="page_61" title="61"></a> was a man up in the +hills I wanted to see in a hurry."</p> + +<p>By the look in her eyes it was as if he had struck her. With fine +contempt her answer came. "Was there another man up there in the rocks +just now that you had to see until the deputy left?"</p> + +<p>"Anyhow, there was a young woman down by the banks of Sunbeam I wanted +to see after he was gone," the fugitive claimed boldly.</p> + +<p>A faint angry flush glowed delicately beneath the olive of her cheeks. +"Evasions—nothing but evasions."</p> + +<p>She turned away, sick at heart. He had treated with flippancy the chance +she had given him. Would an innocent man have done that?</p> + +<p>Swift as an arrow his hand shot out, caught her shoulder, and held her +firmly. The eyes that lifted to his flamed with proud resentment.</p> + +<p>"I'm not going to let you go like this. Don't think it."</p> + +<p>"Sir."</p> + +<p>"You'll do me justice first." His hand dropped from her shoulder, but +the masterful look of him stayed her steps. "You'll tell me what +evidence you've got against me."</p> + +<p>Again an insurgent hope warmed her heart. Wild he might be, but surely +no criminal—if there was any truth in faces.</p> + +<p>What she had heard against him she told. "The<a class="pagenum" name="page_62" id="page_62" title="62"></a> robbers were riding +horses like yours. You left the fair grounds early. You and your friend +were seen going into the corral where you had stabled the animals. This +was less than half an hour before the robbery. When you passed us on the +road you were anxious about something. You looked back two or three +times. Both you and Mr. Colter showed you were in a hurry. Then you ran +away before the sheriff reached your camp. Does an innocent man do +that?" She put her question as an accusation, but in the voice was a +little tremble that asked to be refuted.</p> + +<p>"Sometimes he does. Now listen to me. The horses ridden by the robbers +were Colter's and mine. We certainly were worried about the time we met +you. And we did break camp in a hurry so as to miss the sheriff. Does +this prove me guilty?"</p> + +<p>She brushed away the soft waves of dark hair that had fallen over her +forehead in little escaping tendrils. The fearless level eyes of the +outdoors West were looking straight at her.</p> + +<p>"I don't know. Does it?"</p> + +<p>"We'll say this evidence had piled up against Captain Kilmeny instead of +against me. Would you have believed him guilty?"</p> + +<p>"No. He couldn't have done it."</p> + +<p>"On the same evidence you would acquit him and condemn me. Is that +fair?"<a class="pagenum" name="page_63" id="page_63" title="63"></a></p> + +<p>"I have known him for years—his standards, his ways of thinking. All +his life he has schooled himself to run a straight course."</p> + +<p>"Whereas I——" He waited, the sardonic frosty smile on his lean strong +face.</p> + +<p>Moya knew that the flutter of her pulses was telling tales in the pink +of her cheeks. "I don't know you."</p> + +<p>"I'm only a workingman, and an American at that—so it follows that I +must be a criminal," he answered with a touch of bitterness.</p> + +<p>"No—no! But you're—different. There's something untamed about you. I +don't quite know how to put it—as if you had been brought up without +restraints, as if you didn't care much for law."</p> + +<p>"Why should I? Law is a weapon to bolster up the rich and keep down the +poor," he flung back with an acid smile. "But there's law and law. Even +in our class we have our standards, such as they are."</p> + +<p>"Now it's you that isn't fair," she told him quietly. "You know I meant +nothing like that. The point is that I don't know what your standards +are. Law doesn't mean so much to people here. Your blood runs freer, +less evenly than ours. You don't let the conventions hamper you."</p> + +<p>"The convention of honesty, for instance. Thanks, Miss Dwight."</p> + +<p>"I didn't want to believe it, but——"<a class="pagenum" name="page_64" id="page_64" title="64"></a></p> + +<p>The penitence in her vivid face pleaded for her. He could not refuse the +outstretched hand of this slender lance-straight girl whose sweet +vitality was at once so delicate and so gallant. Reluctantly his palm +met hers.</p> + +<p>"You're quite sure now that I didn't do it?"</p> + +<p>"Quite sure."</p> + +<p>"Even though I've been brought up badly?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I didn't say badly—really. You know I didn't."</p> + +<p>"And though I'm wild and lawless?"</p> + +<p>"Aren't you?" she flashed back with a smile that took from the words any +sting they might otherwise have had.</p> + +<p>Mirth overflowed in his eyes, from which now many little creases +radiated. "You're a good one, neighbor. But, since you will have it, I +am. I reckon my standards even of honesty wouldn't square with yours. I +live in a rough mining camp where questions have two sides. It's up to +me to play the game the way the other fellow plays it. But we'll not go +into that now."</p> + +<p>Strong, clear-eyed and masterful, she knew him a man among ten thousand. +He might be capable of great sin, but what he did would be done with his +eyes wide open and not from innate weakness. Her heart sang jubilantly. +How could she ever have dreamed this crime of him? Her trust was now a +thing above any evidence.<a class="pagenum" name="page_65" id="page_65" title="65"></a></p> + +<p>"And you'll sit down with me now if I ask you, neighbor," he laughed.</p> + +<p>She did not wait to be asked, but sat down, tailor fashion, and looked +expectantly up with a humorous little twist of the eyebrows. Flakes of +dappled sunlight played on her through the moving leaves and accented +the youthful bloom of her.</p> + +<p>With a sigh of content he stretched himself on the sun-warmed loam. His +glance swept up the gulch, a sword cleft in the hills, passed over the +grove of young pines through which he had recently descended, and came +back to the slim Irish girl sitting erectly on the turf.</p> + +<p>"It's sometimes a mighty good world, neighbor," he said.</p> + +<p>"I'm thinking that myself," she admitted, laughter welling softly out of +her.</p> + +<p>The sun lit the tips of the pines, so that they looked like burnished +lances in battle array, poured its beams over the scarred hillside, and +bathed the little valley in effulgent glory.</p> + +<p>"You can always find it somewhere," he said with deep content, leaning +on an elbow indolently.</p> + +<p>She asked for no antecedent to his pronoun. What he meant was not +ambiguous to her.</p> + +<p>"If one knows where to look for it," she added softly.</p> + +<p>"That's the trouble. We get so busy with our little everyday troubles +that we forget to look. But<a class="pagenum" name="page_66" id="page_66" title="66"></a> the joy of life is always there if we'll +forget our grouch and see it."</p> + +<p>"Yes—if having eyes we see."</p> + +<p>"I'm comforted a heap to know that you believe in me—even if I'm not +Captain Kilmeny," he assured her with his slow rippling laugh.</p> + +<p>Had he been looking at her he would have seen the telltale color tide +her cheeks. "If that is a comfort you are welcome to it. I might have +known the idea of connecting you with such a thing was folly."</p> + +<p>He glanced whimsically at her. "Don't be too sure of me, neighbor. I'm +likely to disappoint you. What one person thinks is right another knows +is wrong. You'd have to make a heap of allowances for me if I were your +friend."</p> + +<p>"Isn't that what friendship is for—to make allowances?"</p> + +<p>"You've found that out already, have you?"</p> + +<p>The long-lashed lids fell to her cheeks in self-defense. Not for worlds +would she have had him guess the swift message ready to leap out toward +him. He seemed to be drawing her soul to his unconsciously. Tingling in +every nerve, athrob with an emotion new and inexplicable, she drew a +long slow breath and turned her head away. A hot shame ran like +quicksilver through her veins. She whipped herself with her own scorn. +Was she the<a class="pagenum" name="page_67" id="page_67" title="67"></a> kind of girl that gave her love to a man who did not want +it?</p> + +<p>His next words brought to her the shock she needed, the effect of a +plunge into icy water on a warm day.</p> + +<p>"What about your friends—what about Miss Seldon—did she believe me +guilty too?" He could not quite keep the self-consciousness out of his +voice.</p> + +<p>"Hadn't you better ask her that?" she suggested.</p> + +<p>In spite of his interest in their talk, Kilmeny's alert eyes had swept +again and again the trail leading up the gulch. He did not intend to be +caught napping by the officers. Now he rose and offered her a hand up.</p> + +<p>"Your friends are coming."</p> + +<p>Swiftly Moya came to earth from her emotions. In another moment she was +standing beside the fugitive, her gaze on the advancing group. Captain +Kilmeny was in the lead and was the first to recognize her companion. If +he was surprised, his voice failed to show it.</p> + +<p>"No, no, Verinder. I had him hooked all right," he was saying. "Dashed +poor generalship lost him. He went into the rushes like a shot. I +persuaded him out—had him in the open water. Looked to me like a two to +one shot, hang it. Mr. Trout develops a bad break to the off and heads +under a big log. Instead of moving down the bank I'm ass<a class="pagenum" name="page_68" id="page_68" title="68"></a> enough to reel +from where I hooked him. Leader snaps, and Mr. Trout has the laugh on +me."</p> + +<p>To the sound of that high cheerful voice Moya roused at once. The rapt +expression died from her face.</p> + +<p>"How many?" called India, holding up her string.</p> + +<p>"I haven't been fishing," Moya answered; then gave herself away. "It +surely isn't time for luncheon already."</p> + +<p>She took a step toward her friends, so that for the first time Jack +Kilmeny stood plainly revealed. India's pretty piquant face set to a +red-lipped soundless whistle. Joyce stared in frank amusement. Verinder, +rutted in caste and respectability as only a social climber dubious of +his position can be, ejaculated a "God bless my soul!" and collapsed +beyond further articulation. Captain Kilmeny nodded to the Westerner +without embarrassment.</p> + +<p>"Mornin', Mr. Crumbs."</p> + +<p>"Good-morning. But you have the name wrong, sir."</p> + +<p>"Beg pardon." The captain's eyebrows lifted in inquiry.</p> + +<p>"Kilmeny," the American corrected.</p> + +<p>Nonchalantly the captain came to time. "Same name as ours. Wonder if by +any chance we're of the same family. Happen to be any relation of +Archibald Kilmeny, who died in Colorado fifteen years ago?"<a class="pagenum" name="page_69" id="page_69" title="69"></a></p> + +<p>Jack looked at him quietly. "A son."</p> + +<p>"Makes us cousins. He was my father's brother."</p> + +<p>The Westerner nodded coolly, not in the least impressed. "Yes."</p> + +<p>It would have been easy to read hostility in his bearing, but India +sailed past her brother with hand extended. "Glad to meet you, Cousin +Jack. 'Member me? Last time you saw me I was a squalling five-year-old."</p> + +<p>The American warmed a trifle. "I remember you, all right. Never saw a +kid before so fond of currant jam."</p> + +<p>"Still am. You've improved in your personal appearance. Last time I saw +your eye it had been beautifully blacked, kindness of Ned."</p> + +<p>"Fortune of war. My lip was swollen for a week," her brother laughed as +he extended his hand.</p> + +<p>"Ned got caned for fighting with a guest. Served him jolly well right," +Miss Kilmeny said.</p> + +<p>Joyce sailed forward into the picture gracefully. Her radiant beauty +took the Westerner's breath.</p> + +<p>"You'll stay with us for luncheon," she said with soft animation. "For, +of course, this is an occasion. Long-lost cousins do not meet every +day."</p> + +<p>Verinder, making speechless sounds of protest at this indiscretion, grew +very red in the face. Would he have to sit down to eat with a criminal +at large?</p> + +<p>Jack hesitated scarcely a second. He could not<a class="pagenum" name="page_70" id="page_70" title="70"></a> take his gaze from this +superb young creature, whose every motion charmed, whose deep eyes +glowed with such a divine warmth of molten gold.</p> + +<p>"Thanks awf'lly, but I really can't stay."</p> + +<p>He bowed to one and another, turned upon Joyce that look of dumb worship +she had seen on the faces of many men, and swung off into the pines, as +elastic-heeled, confident, and competent a youth as any of them had seen +in many a day.</p> + +<p>India's eyes danced. She was Irish enough to enjoy a situation so +unusual. "Snubbed, Joyce, by a highwayman," she laughed.</p> + +<p>But Joyce merely smiled. She knew what she knew.</p> + +<p>"If you ask me, he's got the deuce of a cheek, you know," Verinder +fumed.</p> + +<p>Miss Kilmeny pounced instantly upon him. "Referring to our cousin, Mr. +Verinder?" she demanded sweetly.</p> + +<p>"But—er—you said yourself——"</p> + +<p>"That was all in the family," she informed him promptly.</p> + +<p>Joyce came to the assistance of Verinder with one confidential glance of +her incredibly deep eyes of velvet. "Of course he's cheeky. How could he +be India's cousin and not be that?" she asked with a rippling little +laugh. "Come and help me spread the tablecloth, Mr. Verinder."</p> + +<p>Deeply grateful, the millionaire flew to assist.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a class="pagenum" name="page_71" id="page_71" title="71"></a> +<a name="LORD_FARQUHAR_GIVES_MOYA_A_HINT_1901" id="LORD_FARQUHAR_GIVES_MOYA_A_HINT_1901"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER VI</h2> +<h3>LORD FARQUHAR GIVES MOYA A HINT</h3> +</div> + +<p>Verinder's man, Biggs, who had been a fascinated spectator of the Wild +West sports at Gunnison, was describing them to Fisher, maid to Lady +Farquhar and general buttoner-up-the-back to the entire feminine +contingent of the party.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean when you say a horse bucks?" she wanted to know.</p> + +<p>"'E throws down 'is 'ead and 'e throws up 'is 'eels and you cawn't +remain," he explained, without entire originality.</p> + +<p>"Fancy now!"</p> + +<p>"Consequence is the rider lands himpromptu on <i>terra firma</i>, so to +hexpress it."</p> + +<p>"Dear me. But doesn't it make him dusty, Mr. Biggs?"</p> + +<p>"A bit."</p> + +<p>"Couldn't Captain Kilmeny ride one of the bronchos?"</p> + +<p>"I've 'eard that the captain is a crack rider, none better in the harmy, +Miss Fisher. 'E could ride<a class="pagenum" name="page_72" id="page_72" title="72"></a> the blawsted brute if it wouldn't 'ide its +bloomin' 'ead between its legs."</p> + +<p>Moya, patrolling the willow walk in front of the Lodge, took this in +with a chuckle.</p> + +<p>It was a still night, save only for the rushing waters of the river. The +lamps of the sky had all been lit and were gleaming coldly millions of +miles away. The shadowed moonlight in the trees offered a stage set to +lowered lights.</p> + +<p>The thoughts of the girl had drifted to speculation about the +transplanted countryman of hers whose personality had come to interest +her so greatly. He had challenged her trust in him and she had responded +with a pledge. He had not explained a single one of the suspicious +circumstances against him. He had not taken her into his confidence, nor +had he in so many words declared his innocence. She was glad he had told +her nothing, had demanded her faith as a matter of course. It was part +of her pride in him that she could believe without evidence. All the +world would know he was not guilty after he had shown his proofs. It +would be no test of friendship to stand by him then.</p> + +<p>A step sounded on the gravel behind her and an arm opened to let her +hand slip round the elbow.</p> + +<p>"May I stroll out this dance with you, Miss Dwight?" Lord Farquhar asked +formally, dropping into step with her.</p> + +<p>Moya and her guardian were kindred spirits.<a class="pagenum" name="page_73" id="page_73" title="73"></a> They never needed to +explain themselves to each other. Both knew how to make-believe.</p> + +<p>"If you're not afraid of a scandal at being alone with me so far from a +chaperone," the girl answered lightly.</p> + +<p>He burlesqued a sigh. "I'm only afraid there won't be any. It's the +penalty of age, my dear. I can claim all sorts of privileges without +making Verinder jealous."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Verinder," she scoffed.</p> + +<p>"Should I have said Kilmeny?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you a secret, guardy," whispered Moya gayly. "You're a +hundred years younger than either of them."</p> + +<p>"I wish my glass told me so."</p> + +<p>"Fiddlesticks! Youth is in the heart. Mr. Verinder has never been young +and Captain Kilmeny has forgotten how to be."</p> + +<p>"I fancy Ned would be willing to learn how again if he had the proper +teacher."</p> + +<p>She gave his arm a little squeeze. "You dear old matchmaker."</p> + +<p>"Heaven forbid! I'm merely inquiring, my dear."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I see—your <i>in-loco-parentis</i> duty."</p> + +<p>"Exactly. So it isn't going to be Ned?"</p> + +<p>She looked across the turbid moonlit river before she answered. "I don't +think so."</p> + +<p>"Nor Verinder?"<a class="pagenum" name="page_74" id="page_74" title="74"></a></p> + +<p>"Goodness, no!" A little ripple of laughter flowed from her lips before +she added: "He's changed his mind. It's Joyce he wants now."</p> + +<p>Farquhar selected a cigar from the case. "Hm! Sure you didn't change it +for him?"</p> + +<p>A dimple flashed into her cheeks. "I may have helped a little, but not +half as much as Joyce."</p> + +<p>"That young woman is a born flirt," Lord Farquhar announced, his beard +and the lower part of his face in the sudden glow of the lighted match. +"Upon my word, I saw her making eyes at your highwayman the night we had +him here."</p> + +<p>There was a moment's silence before she answered. "Anybody could see +that he was interested in her."</p> + +<p>"It doesn't matter to me who interests him, but I can't have any of my +wards being romantic over a Dick Turpin," he replied lightly.</p> + +<p>She was standing in the shadow, so that he could not see the dye sweep +into her cheeks.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid he is going to disappoint you. He's not a highwayman at +all."</p> + +<p>"Did he tell you so?"</p> + +<p>"No. But I know it."</p> + +<p>"Looks to me as if he might make a good one. The fellow is cool as a +cucumber and afraid of nothing on two legs or four."</p> + +<p>"You forget he is India's cousin."</p> + +<p>"No, I'm remembering that. His father had a<a class="pagenum" name="page_75" id="page_75" title="75"></a> devil of a temper and his +mother was as wild as an unbroken colt when I met her."</p> + +<p>"They weren't thieves, were they?" she flashed.</p> + +<p>He gave her his frank smile. "You like this young man, Moya?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Why shouldn't I?"</p> + +<p>"Why not—if you don't like him too well?"</p> + +<p>"So that's why you came out here—sent by Lady Farquhar to scold me—and +I thought you had come because you like to be with me."</p> + +<p>"One reason doesn't preclude the other."</p> + +<p>"I've known for several days she had it on her mind—ever since we saw +Mr. Kilmeny on Sunbeam Creek."</p> + +<p>"Come; let us reason together," he invited cheerfully. "We'll sit on the +end of the wharf and dangle our legs while your guardian finishes his +cigar and does his duty by you."</p> + +<p>They compromised on a wire-woven seat under a cottonwood. Across the +river two fishermen could be seen working down stream close to the +opposite shore. The two were Verinder and Captain Kilmeny, though at +that distance they were not recognizable.</p> + +<p>Lord Farquhar seemed in no hurry to begin, nor did Moya attempt to +hasten him. His cigar glowed and ashed and glowed again before he spoke.</p> + +<p>"Odd how things work out, my dear. There across the river are two men +who would like to<a class="pagenum" name="page_76" id="page_76" title="76"></a> marry you. Both are good matches. One is by way of +being a bit of a bounder perhaps, but the other is as fine a fellow as +any girl could look for—not brilliant, but no fool either, and as +steady as a clock."</p> + +<p>A breath of wind lifted the edge of her white skirt. She followed the +woman's instinct to tuck it safely under her before making demure +answer. "Captain Kilmeny is his own certificate of merit. Any praise is +surplusage."</p> + +<p>He shrugged. "That's the perversity of it. You see all his merits and +they don't touch you."</p> + +<p>With a vivacious little turn that was wholly charming she turned merrily +upon him. "Are you by any chance proposing for him, Lord Farquhar?"</p> + +<p>"Hasn't he proposed for himself?" her guardian asked bluntly.</p> + +<p>"I believe he has."</p> + +<p>"And you—didn't see it?"</p> + +<p>"I couldn't."</p> + +<p>"Sorry." He looked at the tip of his cigar and brushed away the ash. +"Because he's a no end good sort."</p> + +<p>"You don't know that any better than I do. Don't think I can't see all +the advantages of it. I do. I want to say 'Yes,' but—well, I can't. +That's all."</p> + +<p>"On account of the other man?" he questioned gently.<a class="pagenum" name="page_77" id="page_77" title="77"></a></p> + +<p>"I haven't mentioned any other man," she cried, her face in a flame.</p> + +<p>"No, I mentioned him. Devilish impudent of me, if you want to take it +that way, Moya. But, then, as you've said, I'm <i>in loco</i>. Got to grub +around and find out how you feel."</p> + +<p>"Lady Jim has been poking you up and telling you it's your duty," she +told him in derision.</p> + +<p>"I daresay. I'm a lazy beggar. Always shirking when I can."</p> + +<p>"Lady Jim isn't lazy."</p> + +<p>"Di does her duty even when it isn't pleasant. Pity more of us don't."</p> + +<p>"Meaning that it is my unpleasant duty to marry Mr. Verinder's money?"</p> + +<p>"Hang Verinder and his money. I'm no end glad you can't stand him. Fact +is, we didn't quite know how bad he was when we asked him to join us."</p> + +<p>"What then?"</p> + +<p>"Well, sure your money isn't on the wrong horse, Moya? Mind, I don't say +it is. I ask."</p> + +<p>"If you mean Mr. Kilmeny, there hasn't been a word between us you +couldn't have heard yourself," the girl told him stiffly.</p> + +<p>"If my memory serves it didn't use to be so much a matter of words. What +about your feelings? Di fancies——"</p> + +<p>"Of course she does. She's always fancying.<a class="pagenum" name="page_78" id="page_78" title="78"></a> That's the business of a +chaperone. It's perfectly absurd," Moya flung back hotly.</p> + +<p>"Glad you see it that way. It wouldn't do, of course."</p> + +<p>She looked directly at him, a challenge in her stormy eyes. "The whole +thing is ridiculous. The man hasn't given me a second thought. If you're +going to warn anyone, it ought to be Joyce."</p> + +<p>Lord Farquhar looked straight at her. "Joyce has her eyes wide open. She +can look out for herself."</p> + +<p>"And I can't?"</p> + +<p>"No, you can't—not when your feelings are involved. You're too +impulsive, too generous."</p> + +<p>"It's all a storm in a teacup. I've only met him three times to talk +with. He's been friendly—no more. But if he and I wanted to—not that +there's the ghost of a chance of it, but if we did—I don't see why it +wouldn't do."</p> + +<p>"Any number of reasons why it wouldn't. Marriage nowadays isn't entirely +a matter of sentiment. You're an Englishwoman. He's an American, and +will be to the end of the chapter."</p> + +<p>"I'm not English; I'm Irish—and the Irish make the best Americans," she +told him sturdily.</p> + +<p>Farquhar ignored her protest. "His ways of thinking are foreign to +yours, so are his habits of life. You're a delightful rebel, my dear, +but you've got to come to heel in the end. All girls do. It's<a class="pagenum" name="page_79" id="page_79" title="79"></a> a rule of +the game, and you'll have to accept it. No matter how captivating your +highwayman may be—and upon my word I admire him tremendously—he is not +your kind. He makes his own laws, and yours are made for you."</p> + +<p>"You're making one for me now, aren't you?" she demanded rebelliously.</p> + +<p>"Let's not put it so strong as that. I'm trying to persuade you to +something of which you are fully persuaded already."</p> + +<p>"I'm not—not in the least. It's absurd to talk about it because the man +hasn't the least idea of making love to me. But suppose he wanted to. +Why shouldn't I listen to him? You tell me he doesn't have the same +little conventions as we do. Thank heaven he hasn't. His mind is free. +If that condemns him——"</p> + +<p>She broke off from sheer passionate inadequacy to express herself.</p> + +<p>"Those conventions are a part of your life, little girl. Can you imagine +yourself sitting opposite him at breakfast for the rest of your natural +days?"</p> + +<p>"You mean because he is a workingman, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"If you like. You would miss all the things to which you were used. Love +in a cottage isn't practicable for young women brought up as you have +been."</p> + +<p>"Then I've been brought up wrong. If I were<a class="pagenum" name="page_80" id="page_80" title="80"></a> fond enough of the man—but +that's absurd. We're discussing an impossible case. I'll just say this, +though. I've never met a man who would be as little likely to bore one."</p> + +<p>"Does his cousin bore you?"</p> + +<p>"No. Captain Kilmeny is interesting in his way too, but——"</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"His thoughts are all well regulated ones. He keeps to the proper beaten +track." She flung up a hand impatiently. "Oh, I know he's perfect. I've +never been allowed to forget that. He's too perfect. He would let me do +anything I wanted to do. I would want a husband—if I ever have one—who +would be strong enough to make me want to do whatever he said."</p> + +<p>Farquhar smiled as he flung his cigar into the river. "That works out +better in theory than in practice, my dear. It's the little things that +count in married life. What we need is a love well under control and +friction eliminated."</p> + +<p>"That's not what I want. Give me my great moments, even if I have to pay +for them."</p> + +<p>He understood perfectly her eager desire for the best life has to offer. +What he was proposing for her was a tame second best. But it was safe, +and the first rule of the modern marriage mart is to play the game safe. +Yet he had a boyish errant impulse to tell her to cut loose and win +happiness<a class="pagenum" name="page_81" id="page_81" title="81"></a> if she could. What restrained him, in addition to what he +owed Lady Jim in the matter, was his doubt as to this young man's +character.</p> + +<p>"There would be another thing to consider. Kilmeny is under a cloud—a +pretty serious one. All the evidence connects him with this robbery. +Grant that you believe him innocent. Still, a nice girl can't let her +name be connected with that of a man suspected of a crime."</p> + +<p>"I'm sure he isn't guilty. I don't care what the evidence is."</p> + +<p>"'Fraid that's sentiment. It has a bad look for him."</p> + +<p>"Do we desert our friends when things have a bad look for them?"</p> + +<p>"Hm! Friends!"</p> + +<p>"I used that word," she told him stanchly.</p> + +<p>"But you've only talked with the man three times," he answered with a +gleam of friendly malice in his eyes.</p> + +<p>"I've talked with Mr. Verinder forty times and I'm less his friend after +each talk," she returned with energy.</p> + +<p>"Well, I daresay I've exaggerated the whole matter, my dear. I was just +to give you a hint—no more."</p> + +<p>"You've done it, then."</p> + +<p>"Strikes me that I've done my duty in the matter."<a class="pagenum" name="page_82" id="page_82" title="82"></a></p> + +<p>"You have—admirably," she scoffed.</p> + +<p>"It's up to Di now—if you should take a fancy for entertaining your +highwayman again while you're fishing."</p> + +<p>"It's not likely that I'll ever see him again."</p> + +<p>"I daresay not." He rose and looked across the rushing water. "There's +just one thing I stick out for. Regardless of your interest in him—no +matter what might happen—you wouldn't let things get on another footing +until he has proved his innocence—absolutely and beyond question."</p> + +<p>"Isn't that rather an unnecessary condition? I'm not in the habit of +throwing myself at the heads of strangers who are merely casually polite +to me."</p> + +<p>He took in her sweet supple slimness, the fine throat line beneath the +piquant lifted chin which mocked his caution, the little imps of +raillery that flashed from the dark live eyes. In spite of a passionate +craving for the adventure of life she had a good deal of reticence and +an abundant self-respect. He felt that he had said more than enough +already.</p> + +<p>"Quite right, my dear. I withdraw my condition."</p> + +<p>"It's one I would insist upon myself—if there were any likelihood of +any need of it—which there isn't."</p> + +<p>An easy-going man, he did not cross bridges till he came to them. His +wife had persuaded him that<a class="pagenum" name="page_83" id="page_83" title="83"></a> Moya needed a talking to, but he was glad +to be through with it.</p> + +<p>"Hang the scamp, anyhow!" he laughed. "Maybe he'll break his neck on one +of those outlaw bronchos he's so fond of riding. Maybe they'll put him +safely away in prison, where there is neither marrying nor giving in +marriage. Maybe, as you say, he'll have the bad taste to prefer Joyce to +my little Irish wild rose, in which case he'll be put in his place at +the proper time."</p> + +<p>"It's even possible," she added with a murmur of half-embarrassed +laughter, "that if he honored one with an offer—which it has never +entered his head to do—one might regretfully decline with thanks."</p> + +<p>"Amen! In the meantime God lead your grace by the hand, as old Bacon +says." He brought his heels together, bowed over her fingers, and kissed +them with exaggerated old-fashioned gallantry.</p> + +<p>"Who's being romantic now?" she wanted to know gayly.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a class="pagenum" name="page_84" id="page_84" title="84"></a> +<a name="MOYAS_HIGHWAYMAN_2299" id="MOYAS_HIGHWAYMAN_2299"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER VII</h2> +<h3>MOYA'S HIGHWAYMAN</h3> +</div> + +<p>Dinner at the Lodge was just finished. It was the one hour of the day +when anything like formality obtained. Each one dropped into breakfast +when he or she pleased. Luncheon rarely found them together. But Lady +Jim insisted that dinner should be a civilized function. Unless there +was to be night fishing the whole party usually adjourned from the +dining-room to the river-front porch, where such members of it as +desired might smoke the postprandial cigar or cigarette. To-night nobody +cared to get out rod and line. In an hour or so they would return to the +living-room for bridge.</p> + +<p>Voices drifted up the trail and presently riders came into sight. They +halted among the trees, where one dismounted and came forward, his +trailing spurs jingling as he walked.</p> + +<p>He bowed to his audience in general, and again and more particularly to +Lady Farquhar.</p> + +<p>"Evening, ma'am. My name's Gill—sheriff of this county. I hate to +trouble you, but my men<a class="pagenum" name="page_85" id="page_85" title="85"></a> haven't had a bite to eat since early this +mo'ning. Think we could get a snack here? We'll not get to Gunnison till +most eleven."</p> + +<p>Lady Farquhar rose. "I'll have the cook make something for you. How +many?"</p> + +<p>"Six. Much obliged. Just anything that's handy."</p> + +<p>Sheriff Gill beckoned to the men in the trees, who tied their horses and +presently came forward. All but one of them were heavily armed. That one +walked between a 30-30 and a 32 special carbine. It was observable that +the men with the rifles did not lift their eyes from him.</p> + +<p>Moya felt her heart flutter like that of a caged bird. The blood ebbed +from her lips and she swayed in her seat. The prisoner was Jack Kilmeny. +Farquhar, sitting beside the girl, let his hand fall upon hers with a +comforting little pressure.</p> + +<p>"Steady!" his voice murmured so that she alone heard.</p> + +<p>Yet his own pulse stirred with the sheer melodrama of the scene. For as +the man came forward it chanced that the luminous moonbeams haloed like +a spotlight the blond head and splendid shoulders of the prisoner. Never +in his gusty lifetime had he looked more the vagabond enthroned. He was +coatless, and the strong muscles sloped beautifully from the brown +throat. A sardonic smile was on the devil-may-care face, and those who<a class="pagenum" name="page_86" id="page_86" title="86"></a> +saw that smile labeled it impudent, debonair, or whimsical, as fancy +pleased.</p> + +<p>"By Jove, the fellow's a natural-born aristocrat," thought Farquhar, the +most democratic of men.</p> + +<p>Jack Kilmeny nodded with cool equality toward Farquhar and the captain, +ignored Verinder, and smiled genially at India. For Moya his look had a +special meaning. It charged her with the duty of faith in him. Somehow +too it poured courage into her sinking heart.</p> + +<p>"Afraid an engagement at Gunnison with Sheriff Gill won't let me stop +for any poker to-night," he told his host.</p> + +<p>Farquhar was on the spot to meet him in the same spirit. "Verinder will +be glad of that. I fancy my pocketbook too will be fatter to-morrow +morning."</p> + +<p>Biggs appeared to take the newly arrived party in charge. As they +started to follow him the prisoner came face to face with Joyce, who was +just coming out of the house. She looked at the young miner and at the +rifles, and her eyes dilated. Under the lowered lights of evening she +seemed to swim in a tide of beauty rich and mellow. The young man caught +his breath at the sheer pagan loveliness of her.</p> + +<p>"What is it?" she asked in a low, sweet, tremulous voice.</p> + +<p>His assurance fled. The bravado was sponged<a class="pagenum" name="page_87" id="page_87" title="87"></a> from his face instantly. He +stared at her in silence from fascinated eyes until he moved forward at +the spur of an insistent arm at his elbow.</p> + +<p>India wondered how Lady Jim would dispose of the party. Jack Kilmeny +might be a criminal, but he happened to be their cousin. It would hardly +do to send him to the servants' quarters to eat. And where he ate the +sheriff and his posse would likewise have to dine.</p> + +<p>The young woman need not have concerned herself. Lady Farquhar knew +enough of the West and its ways not to make a mistake. Such food as +could be prepared at short notice was served in the dining-room.</p> + +<p>Having washed the dust of travel from himself, the sheriff returned to +the porch to apologize once more for having made so much trouble.</p> + +<p>Farquhar diverted him from his regrets by asking him how they had made +the capture.</p> + +<p>"I ain't claiming much credit for getting him," Gill admitted. "This +here was the way of it. A kid had been lost from Lander's ranch—strayed +away in the hills, y'understand. She was gone for forty-eight hours, and +everybody in the district was on the hunt for her. Up there the +mountains are full of pockets. Looked like they weren't going to git +her. Soon it would be too late, even if they did find her. Besides, +there are a heap of mountain<a class="pagenum" name="page_88" id="page_88" title="88"></a> lions up in that country. I tell you her +folks were plumb worried."</p> + +<p>Moya, listening to every word as she leaned forward, spoke vividly. "And +Mr. Kilmeny found her."</p> + +<p>The sheriff's surprised eyes turned to her. "That's right, ma'am. He +did. I dunno how you guessed it, but you've rung the bell. He found her +and brought her down to the ranch. It just happened we had drapped in +there ten minutes before. So we gathered him in handy as the pocket in +your shirt. Before he could move we had the crawl on him."</p> + +<p>The sheriff retired to the dining-room, whence came presently snatches +of cheerful talk between the prisoner and his captors. In their company +Jack Kilmeny was frankly a Western frontiersman.</p> + +<p>"You passed close to me Wednesday night at the fork of Rainbow above the +J K ranch. I was lying on a ledge close to the trail. You discussed +whether to try Deer Creek or follow Rainbow to its headwaters," the +miner said.</p> + +<p>"That was sure one on us. Hadn't been for the kid, I don't reckon we +ever would have took you," a deputy confessed.</p> + +<p>"What beats me is why you weren't a hundred miles away in Routt County +over in yore old stamping ground," another submitted.</p> + +<p>"I had my reasons. I wasn't looking to be caught<a class="pagenum" name="page_89" id="page_89" title="89"></a> anyhow. Now you've got +me you want to watch me close," the prisoner advised.</p> + +<p>"We're watching you. Don't make any mistake about that and try any fool +break," Gill answered, quite undisturbed.</p> + +<p>"He's the coolest hand I ever heard," Farquhar said to the party on the +porch. "If I were a highwayman I'd like to have him for a partner."</p> + +<p>"He's not a highwayman, I tell you," corrected Moya.</p> + +<p>"I hope he isn't, but I'm afraid he is," India confided in a whisper. +"For whatever else he is, Jack Kilmeny is a man."</p> + +<p>"Very much so," the captain nodded, between troubled puffs of his pipe.</p> + +<p>"And I'm going to stand by him," announced his sister with a determined +toss of her pretty head.</p> + +<p>Moya slipped an arm quickly around her waist. She was more grateful for +this support than she could say. It meant that India at least had +definitely accepted the American as a relative with the obligation that +implied. Both girls waited for Ned Kilmeny to declare himself, for, +after all, he was the head of the family. He smoked in silence for a +minute, considering the facts in his stolid deliberate fashion.</p> + +<p>The excitement of the girl he loved showed itself in the dusky eyes +sparkling beneath the soft mass of blue-black hair, in the glow of +underlying blood<a class="pagenum" name="page_90" id="page_90" title="90"></a> that swept into her cheeks. She hoped—oh, how she +hoped!—that the officer would stand by his cousin. In her heart she +knew that if he did not—no matter how right his choice might be in +principle—she never would like him so well again. He was a man who +carried in his face and in his bearing the note of fineness, of personal +distinction, but if he were to prove a formalist at heart, if he were +going to stickle for an assurance of his kinsman's innocence before he +came to the prisoner's aid, Moya would have no further use for him.</p> + +<p>When the sheriff presently came out Captain Kilmeny asked him if he +might have a word with the prisoner.</p> + +<p>"Sure. Anything you want to say to him."</p> + +<p>The English officer drew his cousin aside and with some embarrassment +tendered to his cousin the use of his purse in the event it might be +needed for the defense.</p> + +<p>Jack looked at him steadily with hard unflinching eyes. "Why are you +offering this, captain?"</p> + +<p>"I don't quite take you."</p> + +<p>"I mean, what's your reason? Don't like it to get out that you have a +cousin in the pen, is that it? Anxious to avoid a family scandal?" he +asked, almost with a sneer.</p> + +<p>The captain flushed, but before he could answer India flamed out. "You +might have the decency to be ashamed of that, Jack Kilmeny."<a class="pagenum" name="page_91" id="page_91" title="91"></a></p> + +<p>Her cousin looked at the girl gravely, then back at her lean, +clean-faced brother. "I am. Beg your pardon, captain. As for your offer, +I would accept it if there were any need. But there isn't. The charges +against me will fall flat."</p> + +<p>"Deuced glad to hear it. Miss Dwight has just been telling us it would +be all right."</p> + +<p>India looked straight at Jack out of the steel-blue eyes that were so +like his own. "I wasn't so sure of it myself, but Moya was. Nothing +could shake her. She's a good friend."</p> + +<p>"I had it sized up about that way," the miner replied. "But I've a +notion Miss Kilmeny will stand the acid too. Anyhow, I'm much obliged to +her."</p> + +<p>The prisoner shook hands with both of his cousins, lifted a +broad-brimmed gray felt hat from the rack, and delivered himself to the +sheriff.</p> + +<p>"All right, Gill."</p> + +<p>India gave a little exclamation and moved toward the hatrack. Her hand +fell upon a second hat, similar in appearance to the first, but much +more worn and dust-stained. She opened her lips to speak and closed them +without saying a word. For her eyes had met those of Moya and read there +a warning.</p> + +<p>Jack Kilmeny nodded a brisk farewell to Farquhar, smiled at Miss Dwight, +and moved with his guards to the clump of trees where the horses had<a class="pagenum" name="page_92" id="page_92" title="92"></a> +been left. His eyes had looked for Joyce, but she was not at that moment +in sight.</p> + +<p>The last faint beat of the retreating hoofs died away. An awkward +constraint settled upon the party left at the Lodge. It was impossible +to discuss the situation openly, yet it was embarrassing to ignore the +subject in the thoughts of all. After a decent interval they began to +drop away, one by one, from the group. India followed Moya, and found +that young woman in her room.</p> + +<p>"What are you hiding?" Miss Kilmeny asked quickly.</p> + +<p>Moya produced from her hatbox a gray sombrero and put it on the table. +"I didn't know it was you—thought it might be Lady Jim," she explained.</p> + +<p>"Why wasn't I to tell Jack Kilmeny that he had taken Ned's hat by +mistake?" India wanted to know.</p> + +<p>"Because it wasn't by mistake."</p> + +<p>"Not by mistake! What would he want with another man's hat?"</p> + +<p>"I'm not sure about that. Perhaps he <i>didn't want his own</i>. You see, I +had started myself to tell him about the mistake, but his eyes asked me +plain as words not to speak."</p> + +<p>"But why—why?" India frowned at the hat, her active brain busy. "It +would be absurd for him to want Ned's hat. He must have had some reason, +though."<a class="pagenum" name="page_93" id="page_93" title="93"></a></p> + +<p>"Don't they search prisoners before they lock them up?" Moya asked +abruptly.</p> + +<p>India shook her head. "I don't know. Do they?"</p> + +<p>"Of course they do." Moya's eyes began to shine. "Now suppose there is +something about that hat he didn't want them to see."</p> + +<p>"How do you mean?" India picked up the hat and turned it round slowly. +"It's worn and a bit disreputable, but he wouldn't care for that."</p> + +<p>Moya found a pair of scissors in her work basket. With these she ripped +off the outer ribbon. This told her nothing. Next she examined the +inside. Under the sweat pad was a folded slip of paper. She waved it in +excitement.</p> + +<p>"What did I tell you?"</p> + +<p>"But—if he is innocent—what could there be he wanted to hide?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know." Moya unfolded the paper enough to see that there was +writing in it. "Do you think we ought to read this?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," India repeated in her turn. "Perhaps it may be a message +to you."</p> + +<p>Moya's face lighted. "Of course that's it. He wanted to tell us +something when the rest were not there, so he used this method."</p> + +<p>Three cramped lines were penciled on the torn fragment of paper.<a class="pagenum" name="page_94" id="page_94" title="94"></a></p> + +<p style='margin-left:4em;'> +At wharf above camp.<br /> +Twelve steps below big rock.<br /> +In gunny sack three yards from shore.<br /> +</p> + +<p>Two pairs of puzzled eyes looked into each other.</p> + +<p>"What can it mean?" India asked.</p> + +<p>"I don't know, unless——"</p> + +<p>"Unless what?"</p> + +<p>"Can it be a direction for finding something?"</p> + +<p>"But what? And why should it be hidden in his hat? Besides, he would +have no chance to put it in there after he was captured."</p> + +<p>"Then perhaps it isn't a message to me at all."</p> + +<p>"That's what we must find out. 'At wharf above camp.' That probably +means his fishing camp."</p> + +<p>"What are you going to do, India?"</p> + +<p>"I'm going to get Ned to help me find that gunny sack."</p> + +<p>Moya found herself trembling. She did not know why. It was not doubt of +her reckless friend, but none the less she was in a panic.</p> + +<p>"Do you think we'd better?"</p> + +<p>Miss Kilmeny looked at her in surprise. In general nobody came to +decision more quickly than Moya.</p> + +<p>"Of course. How else can we tell whether it is something he wants us to +do for him?"</p> + +<p>"When shall we look?"</p> + +<p>"The sooner the better—to-night," answered the<a class="pagenum" name="page_95" id="page_95" title="95"></a> other girl immediately. +"The wharf above the camp. It's not a quarter of an hour from here. I'll +not sleep till I know what he means."</p> + +<p>"Lady Jim," Moya reminded her.</p> + +<p>"She needn't know. She can't object if we take Ned and go fishing for an +hour."</p> + +<p>Moya consulted her watch. "They'll be gathering for bridge pretty soon. +Let's go now. We can be back in time for supper."</p> + +<p>"Get into your fishing togs. I'll get Ned and we'll meet you on the west +porch in a quarter of an hour."</p> + +<p>Within the appointed time the three slipped away down the river bank +trail as silently as conspirators. The captain was rather inclined to +pooh-pooh the whole thing, but he was not at all sorry to share an +adventure that brought him into a closer relationship with Moya Dwight.</p> + +<p>"Must be this wharf," India said presently, as a bulky shadow loomed out +of the darkness.</p> + +<p>"Shouldn't wonder. Here's a big rock just below it. Didn't the paper say +something about a rock?" asked the captain.</p> + +<p>"Twelve steps below big rock, it says."</p> + +<p>The soldier paced off the distance. "What now?"</p> + +<p>"Three yards from the shore," called his sister. "There should be a +gunny sack, whatever that is."</p> + +<p>"Afraid he's spoofing us," Kilmeny said with a<a class="pagenum" name="page_96" id="page_96" title="96"></a> laugh as he moved out in +his waders against the current. "Here I am. What's the next direction?"</p> + +<p>India giggled. She was Irish enough to get the humorous side of things +and could not help being frivolous even when she was greatly interested. +"Now you look over your left shoulder at the moon and wish."</p> + +<p>Her brother's high voice cut in. "I say. My foot's kicking something. +Wait a jiff."</p> + +<p>He braced his feet, dived suddenly down with one arm till his face +touched the water, and grappled with his fingers for a hold on something +lying between two rocks at the bottom. When he straightened again it was +with an effort. He did not attempt to raise his burden from the stream, +but waded ashore with it. Using both hands, he dragged his find to land.</p> + +<p>"It's a sack," India cried excitedly.</p> + +<p>The captain's eyes met those of Moya. His face was grave, but she was +white to the lips. Both of them felt sure of what they would find in the +sack.</p> + +<p>"Open it," she told him tensely.</p> + +<p>With his pocketknife Kilmeny cut the string that tied the sack. He drew +out a heavy valise so full that it gaped. Silver and gold coins, as well +as bills, filled it to the mouth. They had found the money stolen from +the treasurer of the Gunnison County Fair association.<a class="pagenum" name="page_97" id="page_97" title="97"></a></p> + +<p>All three of them were sick at heart. Jack Kilmeny then was guilty, +after all. The message in the hat had not been intended for them, but +had been merely a note of identification of the spot. He had taken the +captain's hat merely because he did not want the officers to find the +directions under the sweat pad. He had in essence lied to Moya and to +the cousins who had offered to stand shoulder to shoulder with him in +his trouble.</p> + +<p>To Moya the next hour was a nightmare. They returned to the Lodge and +slipped into the house by way of a French window opening upon the +deserted north porch. Kilmeny hid the sack of treasure in his trunk and +divested himself of his fishing clothes. Presently he joined Moya and +his sister on the front porch, where shortly they were discovered by +Verinder in search of a fourth at bridge.</p> + +<p>India, knowing how greatly her friend was shaken, volunteered to fill +the table and maneuvered Verinder back into the living-room with her. +The millionaire had vaguely the sense of a conspiracy against him and +resented it, even though of late he had been veering from Moya to Joyce +in his attentions.</p> + +<p>Captain Kilmeny, left alone with the girl of his dreams, wisely said +nothing. He was himself indignant, his family pride stung to the quick. +His cousin was not only a thief but a liar. Born of a race of soldiers, +with the traditions of family and<a class="pagenum" name="page_98" id="page_98" title="98"></a> of the army back of him for +generations, the latter offense was the greater of the two. He +understood something of how Miss Dwight felt. She had let herself become +greatly interested in this vagabond cousin of his. Openly she had +championed his cause. Now her feelings were wounded, her pride hurt, and +her anger ablaze. The fellow's offense against her had been flagrant.</p> + +<p>So far the captain had guessed correctly. Moya writhed like a bruised +woodland creature. Her friendship had been abused. She had been as +credulous as a simple country wench, while he no doubt had been laughing +up his sleeve at her all the time. No longer had she any doubt as to his +guilt. She visualized the hurried run for safety to camp, the swift +disposal of the treasure in the river because of the close pursuit. When +she lived over again that scene on Sunbeam the girl flogged her soul +like a penitent. As one grinds defiantly on an ulcerated tooth, so she +crushed her pride and dragged it in the dust.</p> + +<p>But the wound was deeper even than this. To give herself in friendship +impulsively was her temperament, though not many were judged worthy of +such giving. This blue-eyed scamp had won her as no man ever had before. +She had seen him through a glamour. Now his character stood stripped in +its meanness. Her sweet trust was crushed. In the reaction that was upon +her she craved rest and<a class="pagenum" name="page_99" id="page_99" title="99"></a> safety. No longer had she any confidence in her +own judgment. Against the advice of her friends she had been wayward and +headstrong, so sure that she knew best.</p> + +<p>Kilmeny, sitting beside her in the deep shadows cast by the wild +cucumber vines, became aware that she was weeping silently. His heart +bled for her. He had known her always buoyant, gallant as Galahad, +vibrant of joy to the finger tips.</p> + +<p>"I say, don't," he pleaded. It was impossible for him to voice +adequately his feelings. Greatly daring, he let an arm rest across the +shoulders that were being racked by suppressed <i>pianissimo</i> sobs.</p> + +<p>"You mustn't, you know. I can't stand it." And, again, "Please don't."</p> + +<p>She gulped down the lump in her throat and turned upon him filmy eyes, +the lashes of which were tangled with tears. This fine strong soldier +represented the haven of rest toward which she was being driven. Had she +never met his American cousin she knew that she would probably have +accepted him in the end. The swift impulse swept her to anchor her craft +for life in a safe harbor. She had tried rebellion, and that had left +her spent and beaten. What she wanted now was safety, a rest from the +turmoil of emotion.</p> + +<p>"Do you still ... want me?" she asked lifelessly.</p> + +<p>He could not on the instant take her meaning.<a class="pagenum" name="page_100" id="page_100" title="100"></a> Then, "Want you!" he +cried in a low voice no words could have expressed fully. "Want you? Oh, +my dear!"</p> + +<p>"You know I don't love you ... not in one way," she told him naïvely. +"Lady Jim says that will come. I don't know. Perhaps you won't want to +take the risk."</p> + +<p>She could see the desire of her leap to his honest eyes. "By God, I'll +take my chance," he cried.</p> + +<p>"You'll give me all the time I want—not push me too hard?"</p> + +<p>"You shall set your own time."</p> + +<p>Her dusky head was leaning wearily against the back of a wicker porch +chair. From sheer fatigue her eyes fluttered shut. Her lover could see +the round bird-like throat swell as she swallowed the lump that had +gathered. Pity for her and love of her rose in him like a flood. He +would have given anything to wrap her in his arms and fight away her +troubles. But he knew it would be months before he could win the right +to do this.</p> + +<p>"Would you mind if ... if we didn't tell the others just yet?"</p> + +<p>"It shall be as you say, Moya, dear."</p> + +<p>She nodded languid thanks. "You're good. I ... I think I'll go to bed. +I'm so tired."</p> + +<p>He kissed the tips of her fingers and she vanished round the corner of +the house.</p> + +<p>Kilmeny sat down again and looked for long<a class="pagenum" name="page_101" id="page_101" title="101"></a> across the moonlit river. +His sweetheart had promised to marry him, but in how strange a fashion. +He was to be her husband some day, but he was not yet her lover by a +good deal. His imagination fitted another man to that rôle, and there +rose before him the strong brown face of his cousin with its mocking +eyes and devil-may-care smile.</p> + +<p>His promised wife! He had despaired of winning her, and she had crept to +him as a hurt child does to its mother. There was no exultation in his +heart. Poor child! How sad and tired her eyes had been.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a class="pagenum" name="page_102" id="page_102" title="102"></a> +<a name="THE_BAD_PENNY_AGAIN_2802" id="THE_BAD_PENNY_AGAIN_2802"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2> +<h3>THE BAD PENNY AGAIN</h3> +</div> + +<p>Verinder strolled down to the river bank, where Joyce was fishing from +the shore in a tentative fashion.</p> + +<p>"I say, Miss Seldon, aren't you breaking the Sabbath?" he asked from the +bank above, smiling down upon her with an attempt at archness.</p> + +<p>She flashed at him over her shoulder a smile that had all the allure of +lovely youth. "I'm only bending it. I haven't caught a single fish."</p> + +<p>"Bending it! Oh, I say, that's rather rippin', you know."</p> + +<p>She nodded her golden head. "Thanks."</p> + +<p>"Casting is a horrid bore. You should be a fisher of men," he told her +fatuously.</p> + +<p>"If I could be sure I wouldn't catch one. But if I happened to, what +would I do with him?"</p> + +<p>"Do with him! Why, it depends on who you catch. If he's undersize unhook +him gently and throw him back into the river. What!"</p> + +<p>The gay smile, flashed sideways at him, was a<a class="pagenum" name="page_103" id="page_103" title="103"></a> challenge. "But it isn't +always so easy to unhook them, I'm told."</p> + +<p>"Not if one doesn't want to."</p> + +<p>"You're telling me that I'm a flirt, aren't you?" she said suspiciously.</p> + +<p>"I can't tell you anything along that line you don't know already."</p> + +<p>"I've a good mind to get angry," she flung back, laughing.</p> + +<p>"Don't do that. If it would help I can tell you a lot of nice things I +think about you. My word, yes!"</p> + +<p>Joyce shot one swift glance at him and saw that he was on the verge of +waxing sentimental. That would never do. It was on the cards that she +might have to marry Dobyans Verinder but she did not want him making +love to her.</p> + +<p>"Please don't take the trouble. It's really a matter of no moment."</p> + +<p>The young woman made another cast.</p> + +<p>"To you."</p> + +<p>"I was thinking about me."</p> + +<p>"You usually are, aren't you?"</p> + +<p>She looked up with surprised amusement. Resentment had made him bold. +This was the first spark of spirit she had shaken out of him and she had +made him the victim of many moods.</p> + +<p>"But I don't blame you for thinking about the most interesting person +you know. I think about<a class="pagenum" name="page_104" id="page_104" title="104"></a> you a lot myself. You're really rippin', you +know."</p> + +<p>Joyce groaned in spirit. He did that sort of thing as gracefully as a +bear danced. To create a diversion she whipped back her line for a cast +so that the flies snapped close to his ear.</p> + +<p>"I say, be a bit careful," Verinder suggested.</p> + +<p>"Oh, did I hook you?" she asked carelessly.</p> + +<p>"I've been on your line for weeks."</p> + +<p>"You'd better whisper it. Moya might hear," she advised roguishly.</p> + +<p>Verinder flushed. The transfer of his attentions was still a sore +subject with him. He hoped it would be generally understood that he had +given up Miss Dwight of his own choice. He did not want it to get out +that he had been jilted.</p> + +<p>"The whole world is welcome to hear it. I'd advertise it in the <i>Times</i> +if it would do any good."</p> + +<p>"I believe you are impudent," laughed the beauty.</p> + +<p>"I know I'm imprudent."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" She carefully dropped her leader in the riffles. "There's no law +keeping you in this neighborhood, you know. Try India for a change."</p> + +<p>"There's nothing to keep the trout on the line—except the hook."</p> + +<p>Her smile told of lazy but amiable derision. "It's a great pity about +you."</p> + +<p>"Awf'ly glad you feel so. Some poet chap said that pity is akin to +love."<a class="pagenum" name="page_105" id="page_105" title="105"></a></p> + +<p>"I think it would do you good to take a long walk, Mr. Verinder."</p> + +<p>"With Miss Seldon?" he wanted to know cautiously.</p> + +<p>"Alone," she told him severely. "It would be a rest."</p> + +<p>"A rest for me—or for you?"</p> + +<p>The dimples flashed into her soft cheeks again. "For both of us, +perhaps."</p> + +<p>"Thanks. It's rather jolly here." He put his hands in his trousers +pockets and leaned against a tree.</p> + +<p>"Hope you'll enjoy it. I'm going to find Moya." Miss Seldon reeled up, +put her rod against the tree, and sauntered off with the lissom grace +that was hers.</p> + +<p>Verinder woke up. "Let me come too. On second thoughts I find I do need +a walk."</p> + +<p>She looked back at him saucily over her shoulder. "You may come if you +won't talk until you're spoken to."</p> + +<p>"Done, by Jove!"</p> + +<p>They followed the trail a stone's throw in silence.</p> + +<p>"Miss Dwight's always going off by herself. Seems to me she's a bit off +her feed," Verinder suggested.</p> + +<p>Joyce was amused. For a man who wanted it understood that only one girl +in the world mattered<a class="pagenum" name="page_106" id="page_106" title="106"></a> to him he still appeared to take a good deal of +interest in Moya.</p> + +<p>"Seems dreamy and—er—depressed. What!" he continued.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps she is in love," Joyce let herself suggest wickedly.</p> + +<p>"I've thought of that, but 'pon my word! I can't think of a man."</p> + +<p>"Why not Mr. Verinder?"</p> + +<p>His eyeglass ogled her to make sure he was not being made game of, but +the lovely face was very innocent.</p> + +<p>"Can't be," he demurred with conventional denial.</p> + +<p>"Captain Kilmeny, then."</p> + +<p>"Hardly. I don't think he's quite her style of man."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps with his cousin, the highwayman."</p> + +<p>"Good heavens, no!"</p> + +<p>She took on a look of horrified suspicion. "You don't think—surely it +couldn't be—Oh, I do hope it isn't Lord Farquhar."</p> + +<p>He stared at her through his monocle with his mouth open, then +discovered that he had been sold as the laughter rippled into her face.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I say! Jolly good one, that. Lord Farquhar, by Jove!" Yet his +laughter rang flat. It always made him angry to find that they were +"spoofing" him. He didn't like to be "got" in the<a class="pagenum" name="page_107" id="page_107" title="107"></a> beastly traps these +girls were always laying for him.</p> + +<p>"There's Moya now—and there's a man with her," Joyce announced.</p> + +<p>"By Gad, it's the highwayman!" Verinder gasped.</p> + +<p>It was, though strictly speaking Jack Kilmeny was not yet with her, +since she was still unaware of his presence. Moya was sitting on a mossy +rock with a magazine in her hand, but she was not reading. By the look +of her she was daydreaming, perhaps of the man who was moving +noiselessly toward her over the bowlders.</p> + +<p>Before she heard him he was close upon her. She looked around, and with +a little cry got to her feet and stared at him, her hand on her fast +beating heart.</p> + +<p>Joyce waited to see no more.</p> + +<p>"No business of ours," she announced to Verinder, and, without regard to +his curiosity or her own, turned heel and marshaled him from the field.</p> + +<p>"You!" Moya cried.</p> + +<p>Kilmeny bowed. "The bad penny turned up again, Miss Dwight."</p> + +<p>Scorn of him flashed in her dark eyes. She stood straight and rigid, but +in spite of herself she breathed fast.</p> + +<p>"You've forgotten your promise. You've lost faith again," he charged.</p> + +<p>His impudence stirred contemptuous anger. "I<a class="pagenum" name="page_108" id="page_108" title="108"></a> know you now, sir," she +told him with fine contempt.</p> + +<p>"And you promised to believe in me." He said it quietly, with just a +touch of bitterness in the reproach of his wistful voice.</p> + +<p>The first hint of startled doubt came into her eyes. It was as if he had +breathed into a marble statue the pulse of life. He had known her vivid +as a thrush in song, a dainty creature of fire and dew. She stood now +poised as it were on the edge of hope.</p> + +<p>"How could I believe when I found your guilt on you? What right have you +to ask it?"</p> + +<p>"So you found the paper in the hat, did you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Certain about my guilt this time, are you?"</p> + +<p>He said it almost with a sneer, but nothing could crush the resurgent +glow in her heart. Against the perilous and emotional climax which was +growing on her she set her will in vain. Why was it that the mere +presence of this man called to her so potently and shook her confidence +in his guilt?</p> + +<p>"We found the money," she explained, thinking to confound him.</p> + +<p>"I guessed that. It was gone when I went to look for it this morning. +I've come for it now."</p> + +<p>His assurance amazed her. "Come for it!" she repeated. "It isn't here."<a class="pagenum" name="page_109" id="page_109" title="109"></a></p> + +<p>"No, I didn't expect to find it in your purse. But it is at the Lodge."</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Where, then?"</p> + +<p>"I shan't tell you. The money will be returned to those from whom it was +stolen."</p> + +<p>He looked at her with hard, narrowed eyes. "It will be returned, will +it? When?"</p> + +<p>"To-day. Within a few hours."</p> + +<p>"Who is going to return it?"</p> + +<p>Moya had it on the tip of her tongue to tell, but pulled up in time. "I +think we'll not go into that."</p> + +<p>The American looked at his watch. The hands showed the hour to be 2:30. +If the money was to be returned that day someone must already be on the +way with it. He had seen his cousin, Captain Kilmeny, take the Gunnison +road in a trap not half an hour earlier.</p> + +<p>"So the captain is taking it back to-day?" he mused aloud, wary eyes on +Moya's face.</p> + +<p>A startled expression leaped to her countenance. She had told more than +she had intended. "I didn't say so."</p> + +<p>"I say so."</p> + +<p>Beneath his steady gaze her lashes fell. He nodded, sure that he had +guessed correctly.</p> + +<p>"I intended to have a talk with you and straighten out some things," he +went on. "But I find I haven't<a class="pagenum" name="page_110" id="page_110" title="110"></a> time now. We'll postpone it till +to-morrow. I'll meet you here at ten o'clock in the morning."</p> + +<p>"No," she told him.</p> + +<p>The wave of hope had ebbed in her. Given the opportunity to explain the +evidence against him, he had cared more to find out what they were doing +with the stolen money. He had no time to save his good name.</p> + +<p>"Ten in the morning. Remember. It's important. I want to see you alone. +If I'm not on time wait for me."</p> + +<p>That was his last word. He bowed, turned away almost at a run, and was +lost in the small willows. Presently she heard the sound of a galloping +horse. A minute later she caught a glimpse of it disappearing up Red +Rock cañon. He was following the cutoff trail that led to Gunnison.</p> + +<p>She wondered what was taking him away so abruptly. He had meant to stop, +then had changed his mind. He had told her calmly she must meet him here +to-morrow, and if he were late for the appointment she must wait. His +impudence was enough to stagger belief. She would show him about that. +If he wanted to see her he must come to the Lodge and face Lady Jim. +Even then she would not see him. Why should she, since he was what he +was?</p> + +<p>Ah, but that was the crux of the whole matter! To look at him was to +feel that whatever his faults<a class="pagenum" name="page_111" id="page_111" title="111"></a> they were not despicable ones. He was +alive, so very much alive, and the look of him was that which an honest +man should have. Had he proved his innocence and been released? Or had +he broken prison, an alternative of which he was quite capable? And, +guilty or innocent, what could be the explanation of his extraordinary +demand that she should turn over to him the stolen money?</p> + +<p>He had found her dumb and stricken with many hours of brooding over his +guilt. At least he left her quick with questionings. She divined again +the hint of a mystery. Something deeper than reason told her that the +unraveling of it would prove him no villain.</p> + +<p>One immediate duty alone confronted her. She must confess to Lady +Farquhar that she had met and talked with him again. It was likely that +she would be well scolded, but it was characteristic of her that she +preferred to walk straight to punishment and get it over with. No doubt +she had been too free with this engaging scamp. The rules of her set +prescribed a straight and narrow road in which she must walk. The open +fields beyond the hedges might blossom with flowers, but there could be +no dalliance in them for her. She was to know only such people as had +the password, only those trimmed and trained till there was no +individuality left in them. From birth she had been a rebel, but<a class="pagenum" name="page_112" id="page_112" title="112"></a> an +impotent one. Each revolt had ended in submission to the silken chains +of her environment. Fret as she might, none the less she was as much a +caged creature as Lady Jim's canary.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a class="pagenum" name="page_113" id="page_113" title="113"></a> +<a name="AN_OUT_AND_OUT_ROTTER_3123" id="AN_OUT_AND_OUT_ROTTER_3123"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER IX</h2> +<h3>"AN OUT AND OUT ROTTER"</h3> +</div> + +<p>Jack strode through the young alders to his horse, swung to the saddle +without touching the stirrups, and was off instantly at a canter. He +rode fast, evidently with a direct driving purpose to reach a particular +destination. The trail was a rough and rocky one, but he took it +recklessly. His surefooted broncho scrambled catlike up steep inclines +and slid in clouds of dust down breakneck hillsides of loose rubble. In +and out he wound, across gulches and over passes, following always as +nearly a bee line as was possible.</p> + +<p>An hour of rapid travel brought him to the Gunnison road. He swung to +the ground and examined the dusty roadbed. Apparently he was satisfied, +for he took his sweat-stained horse back into the brush and tied it to a +cottonwood. From its case beside the saddle he drew a rifle. He retraced +his own steps and selected carefully a place among the thick bushes by +the roadside. With his pocketknife he cut eye-holes in the bandanna +handkerchief that had been round his neck and tied it over his face in<a class="pagenum" name="page_114" id="page_114" title="114"></a> +such a way as to conceal his features entirely. Then he carefully +emptied from the rifle all the cartridges it contained and dropped them +into his pocket.</p> + +<p>These preparations made, he sat down and waited. There came to him very +soon the rumble of wheels. Presently a one-horse trap appeared at a +curve of the road. Captain Kilmeny was the driver.</p> + +<p>Jack rose noiselessly and thrust the barrel of his rifle through the +bushes. He was within six feet of the road and he waited until his +cousin was almost abreast of him.</p> + +<p>"Throw up your hands!"</p> + +<p>The captain knew in an instant what he was up against. A masked man with +a rifle in his hands could mean only one thing. Ned Kilmeny was no fool. +He knew when to fight and when to surrender. His hands went into the +air.</p> + +<p>"Kick that rifle into the road—with your foot, not with your hands."</p> + +<p>The Englishman did as he was told.</p> + +<p>"What do you want?" he demanded, looking sharply at the masked bandit.</p> + +<p>"I want that satchel beside you. Drop it out."</p> + +<p>Again the officer obeyed orders. He asked no questions and made no +comment.</p> + +<p>"There's room to turn here by backing. Hit the grit for the Lodge."<a class="pagenum" name="page_115" id="page_115" title="115"></a></p> + +<p>After he had faced about, Ned Kilmeny had one word to say before +leaving.</p> + +<p>"I know who you are, and there's just one name for your kind—you're an +out and out rotter."</p> + +<p>"It's a difference of opinion that makes horse races, captain," answered +the masked man promptly.</p> + +<p>Ned Kilmeny, as he drove back to the Lodge, was sick at heart. He came +of a family of clean, honest gentlemen. Most of them had been soldiers. +Occasionally one had gone to the devil as this young cousin of his had +done. But there was something in this whole affair so contemptible that +it hurt his pride. The theft itself was not the worst thing. The miner +had traded on their faith in him. He had lied to them, had made a mock +of their friendly offers to help him. Even the elements of decency +seemed to be lacking in him.</p> + +<p>India and Moya were on the veranda when the captain drove up. One glance +at his grim face told them something had gone wrong.</p> + +<p>"I've been held up," he said simply.</p> + +<p>"Held up!"</p> + +<p>"Robbed—with a rifle within reach of my hand all the time."</p> + +<p>"But—how?" gasped India.</p> + +<p>Moya, white to the lips, said nothing. A premonition of the truth +clutched icily at her heart.</p> + +<p>"A masked man stopped me just as I swung round a bend about three miles +from Gunnison. He<a class="pagenum" name="page_116" id="page_116" title="116"></a> ordered me to throw out the satchel with the money. I +did as I was told."</p> + +<p>"He had you covered with a weapon?" asked India.</p> + +<p>"With a rifle—yes."</p> + +<p>"Did you—recognize him?" Moya's throat was dry, so that her question +came almost in a whisper.</p> + +<p>The captain's eyes met hers steadily. "He stayed in the bushes, so that +I didn't see his body well. He was masked."</p> + +<p>"But you know who it was. Tell me."</p> + +<p>Ned Kilmeny was morally certain of the identity of the robber. He could +all but swear to the voice, and surely there were not two men in the +county with such a free and gallant poise of the head.</p> + +<p>"I couldn't take oath to the man."</p> + +<p>"It was your cousin." Moya was pale to the lips.</p> + +<p>The officer hesitated. "I'm not prepared to say who the man was."</p> + +<p>The pulse in her throat beat fast. Her hand was clutching the arm of a +chair so tightly that the knuckles stood out white and bloodless.</p> + +<p>"You know better. It was Jack Kilmeny," she charged.</p> + +<p>"I could tell you only my opinion," he insisted.</p> + +<p>"And I know all about it." Moya came to time with her confession +promptly, in the fearless fashion<a class="pagenum" name="page_117" id="page_117" title="117"></a> characteristic of her. "It was I that +sent him to you. It was I that betrayed you to him."</p> + +<p>India set her lips to a soundless whistle. Her brother could not keep +out of his brown face the amazement he felt.</p> + +<p>"I don't wonder you look like that," Moya nodded, gulping down her +distress. "You can't think any worse of me than I do of myself."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense! If you told him you had a reason. What was it?" India asked, +a little sharply.</p> + +<p>"No reason that justifies me. He took me by surprise. He had come to get +the stolen money and I told him we were returning it to the Fair +association. He guessed the rest. Almost at once he left. I saw him take +the cañon road for Gunnison."</p> + +<p>"You weren't to blame at all," the captain assured her, adding with a +rueful smile: "He didn't take you any more by surprise than he did me. I +hadn't time to reach for the rifle."</p> + +<p>India's Irish eyes glowed with contemptuous indignation. She used the +same expression that Ned had. "He must be an out and out rotter. To +think he'd rob Ned after what he offered to do for him. I'm through with +him."</p> + +<p>Her brother said nothing, but in his heart he agreed. There was nothing +to be done for a fellow whose sense of decency was as far gone as that.<a class="pagenum" name="page_118" id="page_118" title="118"></a></p> + +<p>Moya too kept silence. Her heart was seething with scorn for this +handsome scamp who had put this outrage upon them all. It was bad enough +to be a thief, but to this he had added deception, falsehood, and gross +ingratitude. Nor did the girl's contempt spare herself. Neither warning +nor advice—and Lady Jim had been prodigal of both—had availed to open +her eyes about the Westerner. She had been as foolish over him as a +schoolgirl in the matter of a matinée idol. That she would have to lash +herself for her folly through many sleepless hours of the night was a +certainty.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile she went through the part required of her. At dinner she +tossed the conversational ball back and forth as deftly as usual, and +afterward she played her accustomed game of bridge. Fortunately, Kilmeny +was her partner. Sometimes when her thoughts wandered the game suffered, +but the captain covered her mistakes without comment. She could almost +have loved him for the gentle consideration he showed. Why must she +needs be so willful? Why couldn't she have given her heart to this +gallant gentleman instead of to the reckless young scoundrel whom she +hardly knew?</p> + +<p>Before the party broke up a ride was arranged for next morning to the +Devil's Slide, a great slab of rock some miles away. The young people +were to have an early breakfast and get started before<a class="pagenum" name="page_119" id="page_119" title="119"></a> the sun was hot. +For this reason the sitting at auction was short.</p> + +<p>But though Moya reached her room before midnight, it was not until day +was beginning to break that she fell into a troubled sleep. She tossed +through the long hours and lived over every scene that had passed +between her and Jack Kilmeny. It was at an end. She would never see him +again. She would ride with the others to the Devil's Slide and he would +come to the appointment he had made to find her not there. He would go +away, and next day she would leave with the rest of her party for the +Big Bend mining country, where Verinder and Lord Farquhar were heavily +interested in some large gold producers. That chapter of her life would +be closed. She told herself that it was best so. Her love for a man of +this stamp could bring no happiness to her. Moreover, she had taken an +irretrievable step in betrothing herself to Captain Kilmeny. Over and +over again she went over the arguments that marshaled themselves so +strongly in favor of the loyal lover who had waited years to win her. +Some day she would be glad of the course she had chosen. She persuaded +herself of this while she sobbed softly into the hot pillows.</p> + +<p>When Fisher wakened her to dress in time for the early breakfast Moya +felt very reluctant to join the others. She would have to laugh and talk +and make merry, and all the time she would be miserably<a class="pagenum" name="page_120" id="page_120" title="120"></a> unhappy. It +would be impossible for her to stand Verinder to-day without screaming. +A sheer physical lassitude weighted her limbs. In the end she went back +to bed and sent for India.</p> + +<p>"I'm not feeling fit, dear. Would you mind if I beg off?" she asked with +a wan smile.</p> + +<p>Her friend took in keenly the big deep-pupiled eyes ringed with +weariness. "I don't believe you've slept a wink, Moya. Of course you +needn't go. Shall I stay with you? I don't really care about going. I'm +about fed up with Dobyans Verinder."</p> + +<p>But Moya would not hear of this. She protested so much that India saw it +would be a greater kindness to leave her alone.</p> + +<p>"You must try to sleep again, dear." India moved about, darkening the +windows and shaking up the pillows.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I will. I'm all right, you know."</p> + +<p>Left to herself, Moya tried to sleep. It was no use. She was wide awake, +beyond hope of another nap. No sooner had the voices of the riders died +in the distance than she was dressing feverishly. She told herself that +she would go outdoors somewhere with a book and rest. Otherwise Lady +Farquhar would be asking questions.</p> + +<p>Fisher brought her some fruit, a cup of coffee, and a roll. Moya drank +the coffee and ate the fruit, after which she went out into the crisp +Colorado sunlight. By her watch it was now 9:50.<a class="pagenum" name="page_121" id="page_121" title="121"></a></p> + +<p>She made an elaborate pretense with herself of hesitating which way to +go. Her thoughts, her eyes, and at last her footsteps turned toward the +grove where yesterday Jack Kilmeny had surprised her. But she was too +used to being honest with herself to keep up the farce. Stopping on the +trail, she brought herself to time.</p> + +<p>"You're going to meet that outlaw, Moya Dwight. You said you wouldn't, +but you are going. That's why you got out of that ride. No use fibbing +to yourself. You've no more will power than a moth buzzing around a +candle flame."</p> + +<p>So she put it to herself, frankly and contemptuously. But no matter how +she scorned herself for it there was not in her the strength to turn her +back on her temptation. She had always prided herself on knowing her own +mind and following it, but the longing in her to hear this man's +justification was more potent than pride. Slowly her reluctant steps +moved toward the grove.</p> + +<p>Long slants of morning sunlight filtered through the leaves of the +cottonwoods so that her figure was flaked with a shifting checkerboard +of shadow and shine. She sauntered forward, looking neither to the right +nor the left, expecting every instant to hear his cheery impudent +greeting.</p> + +<p>It did not come. She stole sidelong looks here and there through the +dappled woods. They were empty of life save for the chipmunk sitting on +its<a class="pagenum" name="page_122" id="page_122" title="122"></a> hind legs and watching her light approach. A breeze swept across +the river, caught her filmy skirts, and blew them about her ankles. She +frowned, brushing down the wind-swept draperies with that instinct for +modesty all women share. Shy and supple, elastic-heeled, in that +diaphanous half light her slim long body might have been taken for that +of a wood nymph had there been eyes to follow her through the umbrageous +glade.</p> + +<p>Of human eyes there were none. She reached her flat rock and sank upon +its moss ungreeted. Her disappointment was keen, even though reason had +told her he dared not show himself here after adding a second crime to +the first, and this time against her friend, the man who had offered to +stand by him in his trouble. An instinct deeper than logic—some sure +understanding of the man's reckless courage—had made her feel certain +that he would be on the spot.</p> + +<p>Mingled with her disappointment was a sharp sense of shame. He had told +her to come here and wait for him, as if she had been a country +milk-maid—and here she was meekly waiting. Could degradation take her +lower than this, that she should slip out alone to keep an assignation +with a thief and a liar who had not taken the trouble to come? At any +rate, she was spared one humiliation. He would never know she had gone +to meet him.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a class="pagenum" name="page_123" id="page_123" title="123"></a> +<a name="OLD_FRIENDS_3402" id="OLD_FRIENDS_3402"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER X</h2> +<h3>OLD FRIENDS</h3> +</div> + +<p>Into the depths of her scorching self-contempt came his blithe +"Good-morning, neighbor."</p> + +<p>Her heart leaped, but before she looked around Moya made sure no tales +could be read in her face. Her eyes met his with quiet scorn.</p> + +<p>"I was wondering if you would dare come." The young woman's voice came +cool and aloof as the splash of a mountain rivulet.</p> + +<p>"Why shouldn't I come, since I wanted to?"</p> + +<p>"You can ask me that—now."</p> + +<p>Her manner told him that judgment had been passed, but it did not shake +the cheerful good humor of the man.</p> + +<p>"I reckon I can."</p> + +<p>"Of course you can. I might have known you could. You will probably have +the effrontery to deny that you are the man who robbed Captain Kilmeny."</p> + +<p>"Did he say I was the man?" There was amusement and a touch of interest +in his voice.</p> + +<p>"He didn't deny it. I knew it must be you. I<a class="pagenum" name="page_124" id="page_124" title="124"></a> told him everything—how +you found out from me that he was going to Gunnison with the money and +hurried away to rob him of it. Because you are his cousin he wouldn't +accuse you. But I did. I do now. You stole the money a second time." Her +words were low, but in them was an extraordinary vehemence, the +tenseness of repressed feeling.</p> + +<p>"So he wouldn't accuse me, nor yet wouldn't deny that I was the man. +Well, I'll not deny it either, since you're so sure."</p> + +<p>"You are wise, sir. You can't delude me a second time. Your denial would +count for nothing. And now I think there is nothing more to be said."</p> + +<p>She had risen and was about to turn away. A gesture of his hand stopped +her.</p> + +<p>"If you were so sure about me why didn't you have the officers here to +arrest me?"</p> + +<p>"Because—because you are a relative of my friends."</p> + +<p>"That was the only reason, was it?"</p> + +<p>"What other reason could there be?" she asked, a flash of warning in her +eyes.</p> + +<p>"There might be this reason—that at the bottom of your heart you know I +didn't do it."</p> + +<p>"Can you tell me you didn't hold up Captain Kilmeny? Dare you tell me +that?"</p> + +<p>He shrugged his broad shoulders. "No, I held him up."</p> + +<p>"And robbed him."<a class="pagenum" name="page_125" id="page_125" title="125"></a></p> + +<p>"If you like to put it that way. I had to do it."</p> + +<p>"Had to rob your friend, the man who had offered to stand by you. Oh, I +don't want to hear any of your excuses."</p> + +<p>"Yes, you do," he told her quietly. "What's more, you are going to hear +them—and right now. You're entitled to an explanation, and it's my +right to make you listen."</p> + +<p>"Can you talk away facts? You robbed your cousin when he was trying to +be your friend. That may mean nothing to you. It means a great deal to +me," she cried passionately.</p> + +<p>"Sho! An opera bouffe hold-up. I'll make it right with him when I see +Captain Kilmeny."</p> + +<p>"You admit you took the money?"</p> + +<p>"Sure I took it. Had to have it in my business. If you'll sit down again +and listen, neighbor, I'll tell you the whole story."</p> + +<p>The amused assurance in his manner stirred resentment.</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>The clash of battle was in the meeting of their eyes. She had courage, +just as he had, but she was fighting against her own desire.</p> + +<p>"I have listened too often already," she protested.</p> + +<p>"It hasn't hurt you any, has it?"</p> + +<p>"Lady Farquhar thinks it has." The words slipped out before she could +stop them, but as their<a class="pagenum" name="page_126" id="page_126" title="126"></a> import came home to her the girl's face flamed. +"I mean that—that——"</p> + +<p>"I know what you mean," he told her easily, a smile in his shrewd eyes. +"You're a young woman—and I'm an ineligible man. So Lady Farquhar +thinks we oughtn't to meet. That's all bosh. I'm not intending to make +love to you, even though I think you're a mighty nice girl. But say I +was. What then? Your friends can't shut you up in a glass cage if you're +going to keep on growing. Life was made to be lived."</p> + +<p>"Yes.... Yes.... That's what I think," she cried eagerly. "But it isn't +arranged for girls that way—not if they belong to the class I do. We're +shut in—chaperoned from everything that's natural. You don't know how I +hate it."</p> + +<p>"Of course you do. You're a live wire. That's why you're going to sit +down and listen to me."</p> + +<p>She looked him straight between the eyes. "But I don't think morality is +only a convention, Mr. Kilmeny. 'Thou shalt not steal,' for instance."</p> + +<p>"Depends what you steal. If you take from a man what doesn't belong to +him you're doing the community a service. But we won't go into that now, +though I'll just say this. What is right for me wouldn't be for Captain +Kilmeny. As I told you before, our standards are different."</p> + +<p>"Yes, you explained that to me just after<a class="pagenum" name="page_127" id="page_127" title="127"></a> you—while you were hiding +from the officers after the first robbery," she assented dryly.</p> + +<p>He looked at her and laughed. "You're prosecuting attorney and judge and +jury all in one, aren't you?"</p> + +<p>She held her little head uncompromisingly erect. Not again was she going +to let her sympathy for him warp her judgment.</p> + +<p>"I'm ready to hear what you have to say, Mr. Kilmeny."</p> + +<p>"Not guilty, ma'am."</p> + +<p>His jaunty insouciance struck a spark from her. "That is what you told +us before, and within half an hour we found out that you knew where the +booty was hidden. Before that discrepancy was cleared up you convinced +us of your innocence by stealing the money a second time."</p> + +<p>"What did I do with it?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"How should I know?"</p> + +<p>From his pocket he drew a note book. Between two of its leaves was a +slip of paper which he handed to Moya. It was a receipt in full from the +treasurer of the Gunnison County Fair association to John Kilmeny for +the sum previously taken from him by parties unknown.</p> + +<p>The girl looked at him with shining eyes. "You repented and took the +money back?"</p> + +<p>"No. I didn't repent, but I took it back."</p> + +<p>"Why?"<a class="pagenum" name="page_128" id="page_128" title="128"></a></p> + +<p>"That's a long tale. It's tied up with the story of my life—goes back +thirty-one years, before I was born, in fact. Want to hear it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"My father was a young man when he came to this country. The West wasn't +very civilized then. My father was fearless and outspoken. This made him +enemies among the gang of cattle thieves operating in the country where +his ranch lay. He lost calves. One day he caught a brand blotter at +work. The fellow refused to surrender. There was a fight, and my father +killed him."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" cried the girl softly in fascinated horror.</p> + +<p>"Such things had to be in those days. Any man that was a man had +sometimes to fight or else go to the wall."</p> + +<p>"I can see that. I wasn't blaming your father. Only ... it must have +been horrible to have to do."</p> + +<p>"The fellow thieves of the man swore vengeance. One night they caught +the chief—that's what I used to call my father—caught him alone in a +gambling hell in the cow town where the stockmen came to buy provisions. +My father had gone there by appointment to meet a man—lured to his +death by a forged note. He knew he had probably come to the end of the +passage as soon as he had stepped into the place. His one chance was to +turn and run. He wouldn't do that."<a class="pagenum" name="page_129" id="page_129" title="129"></a></p> + +<p>"I love him for it," the girl cried impetuously.</p> + +<p>"The story goes that he looked them over contemptuously, the whole half +dozen of them, and laughed in a slow irritating way that must have got +under their hides."</p> + +<p>Moya, looking at the son, could believe easily this story of the father. +"Go on," she nodded tensely.</p> + +<p>"The quarrel came, as of course it would. Just before the guns flashed a +stranger rose from a corner and told the rustlers they would have to +count him in the scrap, that he wouldn't stand for a six to one row."</p> + +<p>"Wasn't that fine? I suppose he was a friend of your father he had +helped some time."</p> + +<p>"No. He had never seen him before. But he happened to be a man."</p> + +<p>The eyes of the girl were shining. For the moment she was almost +beautiful. A flame seemed to run over her dusky face, the glow of her +generous heart finding expression externally. It was a part of her charm +that her delight in life bubbled out in little spasms of laughter, in +impetuous movements wholly unpremeditated.</p> + +<p>"I'm glad there are such men," she cried softly.</p> + +<p>"The story of that fight is a classic to-day in the hills. When it ended +two of the rustlers were dead, two badly wounded, and the others +galloping away for their lives. The chief and his unknown friend were +lying on the floor shot to pieces."<a class="pagenum" name="page_130" id="page_130" title="130"></a></p> + +<p>"But they lived—surely they didn't die?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, they lived and became close friends. A few years later they were +partners. Both of them are dead now. Sam Lundy—that was the name of my +father's rescuer—left two children, a boy and a girl. We call the boy +Curly. He was down at the camp fishing with me."</p> + +<p>She saw the truth then—knew in a flash that the man beside her had run +the risk of prison to save his friend. And her heart went out to him in +such a rush of feeling that she had to turn her face away.</p> + +<p>"You paid back the debt to the son that your father owed his. Oh, I'm +glad—so glad."</p> + +<p>"Guessed it, have you?"</p> + +<p>"Your friend was the thief."</p> + +<p>"He took the money, but he's no thief—not in his heart. In England only +a criminal would do such a thing, but it's different here. A hold-up may +be a decent fellow gone wrong through drink and bad company. That's how +it was this time. My friend is a range rider. His heart is as open and +clean as the plains. But he's young yet—just turned twenty—and he's +easily led. This thing was sprung on him by an older man with whom he +had been drinking. Before they were sober he and Mosby had taken the +money."</p> + +<p>"I am sorry," the girl said, almost under her breath.</p> + +<p>There was still some hint of the child in the naïve<a class="pagenum" name="page_131" id="page_131" title="131"></a> nobility of her +youth. Joyce Seldon would have had no doubts about what to think of this +alien society where an honest man could be a thief and his friend stand +ready to excuse him. Moya found it fresh and stimulating.</p> + +<p>He explained more fully. "Colter by chance got a line on what the kid +and Mosby were planning to pull off. Knowing I had some influence with +Curly, he came straight to me. That was just after the finals in the +riding."</p> + +<p>"I remember seeing him with you. We all thought you should have come up +for a few words with us."</p> + +<p>"I intended to, but there wasn't any time. We hurried out to find Curly. +Well, we were too late. Our horses were gone by the time we had reached +the corral where we were stabling, but those of the other boys were +waiting in the stalls already saddled. We guessed the hold-up would be +close to the bank, because the treasurer of the association might take +any one of three streets to drive in from the fair grounds. That's where +we went wrong. The boys were just drunk enough not to remember this. +Well, while we were looking for our friends so as to stop this crazy +play they were going to pull off, Colter and I met the president of the +bank. We had known him in the mining country and he held us there +talking. While we were still there news comes of the robbery."<a class="pagenum" name="page_132" id="page_132" title="132"></a></p> + +<p>"And then?"</p> + +<p>"We struck straight back to the corral. Our horses were there. The boys +had ridden back, swapped them for their own, and hit the trail. Mosby's +idea had been to throw suspicion on us for an hour or two until they +could make their getaway. We rode back to the crowd, learned the +particulars, and followed the boys. My thought was that if we could get +the money from them we might make terms with the association."</p> + +<p>"That's why you were in a hurry when you passed us."</p> + +<p>"That's why."</p> + +<p>"And of course the sheriff thought you were running away from him."</p> + +<p>"He couldn't think anything else, could he?"</p> + +<p>"How blind I was—how lacking in faith! And all the time I knew in my +heart you couldn't have done it," she reproached herself.</p> + +<p>His masterful eyes fastened on her. "Did your friends know it? Did Miss +Joyce think I couldn't have done it?"</p> + +<p>"You'll have to ask her what she thought. I didn't hear Joyce give an +opinion."</p> + +<p>"Is she going to marry that fellow Verinder?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know."</p> + +<p>"He'll ask her, won't he?"</p> + +<p>She smiled at his blunt question a little wanly.<a class="pagenum" name="page_133" id="page_133" title="133"></a> "You'll have to ask +Mr. Verinder that. I'm not in his confidence."</p> + +<p>"You're quibbling. You know well enough."</p> + +<p>"I think he will."</p> + +<p>"Will she take him?"</p> + +<p>"It's hard to tell what Joyce will do. I'd rather not discuss the +subject, please. Tell me, did you find your friends?"</p> + +<p>"We ran them down in the hills at last. I knew pretty well about where +they would be and one morning I dropped in on them. We talked it all +over and I put it up to them that if they would turn the loot over to me +I'd try to call off the officers. Curly was sick and ashamed of the +whole business and was willing to do whatever I thought best. Mosby had +different notions, but I persuaded him to see the light. They told me +where they had hidden the money in the river. I was on my way back to +get it when I found little Bess Landor lost in the hills. Gill nabbed me +as I took her to the ranch."</p> + +<p>"And after you were taken back to Gunnison—Did you break prison?"</p> + +<p>"I proved an alibi—one the sheriff couldn't get away from. We had +gilt-edged proof we weren't near the scene of the robbery. The president +of the bank had been talking to us about ten minutes when the treasurer +of the association drove up at a gallop to say he had just been +robbed."<a class="pagenum" name="page_134" id="page_134" title="134"></a></p> + +<p>"So they freed you."</p> + +<p>"I made a proposition to the district attorney and the directors of the +association—that if I got the money back all prosecutions would be +dropped. They agreed. I came back for the money and found it gone."</p> + +<p>"If you had only told me that then."</p> + +<p>"I had no time. My first thought was to tell my cousin the truth, but I +was afraid to take a chance on him. The only way to save Curly was to +take back the money myself. I couldn't be sure that Captain Kilmeny +would believe my story. So I played it safe and helped myself."</p> + +<p>"You must think a lot of your friend to go so far for him."</p> + +<p>"His mother turned him over to me to make a man of him, and if she +hadn't I owed it to his father's son."</p> + +<p>Her eyes poured upon him their warm approving light. "Yes, you would +have to help him, no matter what it cost."</p> + +<p>He protested against heroics with a face crinkled to humor. "It wasn't +costing me a cent."</p> + +<p>"It might have cost you a great deal. Suppose that Captain Kilmeny had +picked up his gun. You couldn't have shot him."</p> + +<p>"I'd have told him who I was and why I must have the money. No, Miss +Dwight, I don't fit the specifications of a hero."<a class="pagenum" name="page_135" id="page_135" title="135"></a></p> + +<p>Moya's lips curved to the sweet little derisive twist that was a smile +in embryo. "I know about you, sir."</p> + +<p>Kilmeny took his eyes from her to let them rest upon a man and a woman +walking the river trail below. The man bowed and the Westerner answered +the greeting by lifting his hat. When he looked back at his companion he +was smiling impishly. For the two by the river bank were Lord and Lady +Farquhar.</p> + +<p>"Caught! You naughty little baggage! I wonder whether you'll be smacked +this time."</p> + +<p>Her eyes met his in a quick surprise that was on the verge of hauteur.</p> + +<p>"Sir."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I think you'll be smacked. You know you've been told time and +again not to take up with strange boys—and Americans, at that. Mith +Lupton warned you on the <i>Victorian</i>—and Lady Farquhar has warned you +aplenty."</p> + +<p>Her lips parted to speak, but no sound came from them. She was on the +verge of a discovery, and he knew it.</p> + +<p>"Hope you won't mind the smacking much. Besides, it would be somefing +else if it wasn't this," he continued, mimicking a childish lisp he had +never forgotten.</p> + +<p>"Miss Lupton!"</p> + +<p>A fugitive memory flashed across her mind.<a class="pagenum" name="page_136" id="page_136" title="136"></a> What she saw was this: a +glassy sea after sunset, the cheerful life on the deck of an ocean +liner, a little girl playing at—at—why, at selling stars of her own +manufacture. The picture began to take form. A boy came into it, and +vaguely other figures. She recalled impending punishment, intervention, +two children snuggled beneath a steamer rug, and last the impulsive kiss +of a little girl determined to exact the last morsel of joy before +retribution fell.</p> + +<p>"Are you that boy?" she asked, eyes wide open and burning.</p> + +<p>"It's harder to believe you're that long-legged little fairy in white +socks."</p> + +<p>"So you knew me ... all the time ... and I didn't know you at all."</p> + +<p>Her voice trembled. The look she flung toward him was shy and diffident. +She had loved him then. She loved him now. Somehow he was infinitely +nearer to her than he had been.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I knew you. I've always known you. That's because you're a dream +friend of mine. In the daytime I've had other things to think about, but +at night you're a great pal of mine."</p> + +<p>"You mean ... before ... we met again?"</p> + +<p>"That's what I mean."</p> + +<p>The pink surged into her cheeks. "I've dreamed about you too," she +confessed with an adorable<a class="pagenum" name="page_137" id="page_137" title="137"></a> shyness. "How strange it is—to meet again +after all these years."</p> + +<p>"Not strange to me. Somehow I expected to meet you. Wasn't that in your +dreams too—that some day we should meet again?"</p> + +<p>"I was always meeting you. But—why didn't I know you?"</p> + +<p>"I'll confess that I wouldn't have known you if it hadn't been for your +name."</p> + +<p>"You think I've changed, then?"</p> + +<p>"No, you haven't changed. You've only grown up. You're still a little +rebel. Sometimes you still think it's howwid to be a dirl."</p> + +<p>"Only when they won't let me do things," she smiled. "And you really +remember even my lisp."</p> + +<p>"You have a faint hint of it yet sometimes when you are excited."</p> + +<p>"I'm excited now—tremendously." She laughed to belie her words, but the +note of agitation was not to be concealed. Her mouth was strangely dry +and her heart had a queer uncertain beat. "Why shouldn't I be—with my +baby days popping out at me like this when I thought they were dead and +buried? It's ... it's the strangest thing...."</p> + +<p>His blood too responded to a quickened beat. He could not understand the +reason for it. Since he had no intention of being sentimental he was +distinctly annoyed at himself. If it had been Joyce<a class="pagenum" name="page_138" id="page_138" title="138"></a> Seldon now—well, +that would have been another tale.</p> + +<p>Over the brow of a hillock appeared Lord and Lady Farquhar walking +toward them. One glance told Moya that her chaperone had made up her +mind to drive Jack Kilmeny from the field. The girl ran forward quickly.</p> + +<p>"We've just found out the oddest thing, Lady Farquhar. Mr. Kilmeny and I +are old friends. We met when we were children," she cried quickly.</p> + +<p>Lady Jim looked at her husband. He cleared his throat in some +embarrassment.</p> + +<p>"Mornin', Mr. Kilmeny. If you have time I'd like to have you look over +some ore samples sent from our mine."</p> + +<p>The American smiled. He understood perfectly. "I've got all the time +there is."</p> + +<p>Moya intervened again. "First let me tell you the news. Mr. Kilmeny has +been freed of all suspicion in connection with the robbery. The money +has been returned and the whole thing dropped."</p> + +<p>Farquhar's face cleared. "Glad to hear it." He emphasized his words, by +adding a moment later: "By Jove, I <i>am</i> glad. Congratulations, Mr. +Kilmeny."</p> + +<p>His wife added hers, but there was a note of reserve in her manner. +Plainly she was not fully satisfied.<a class="pagenum" name="page_139" id="page_139" title="139"></a></p> + +<p>Eagerly Moya turned to the young man. "May I tell all about it?"</p> + +<p>He hesitated, then nodded shortly. "If you like."</p> + +<p>Her voice vibrant with sympathy, Moya told the story in her ardent way. +Kilmeny said nothing, but the corners of his mouth suggested amusement. +Something of humorous derision in his blue eyes told Farquhar that the +Coloradoan did not take the girl's admiration as his due. Rather, he +seemed to regard it merely as an evidence of her young enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>Lord Farquhar shook hands frankly with Kilmeny. "We've done you an +injustice. If I had a son I would want him to have played the part you +did under the same circumstances."</p> + +<p>His wife backed him up loyally but with misgivings. The character of +this young man might be cleared but that did not make him any more +eligible. Her smile had in it some suggestion of the reserve of the +chaperone.</p> + +<p>"I'm glad to know the truth, Mr. Kilmeny. It does you credit. Your +cousins won't be back to lunch but if you can stay——"</p> + +<p>"I can't, Lady Farquhar. Thanks just the same. I've got to ride up into +the hills to let the boys know it's all right. We'll be leaving +to-morrow to go back to work."</p> + +<p>"We go to-morrow too. I suppose this will be good-by, then." Lady +Farquhar offered her hand.<a class="pagenum" name="page_140" id="page_140" title="140"></a></p> + +<p>Kilmeny turned last to Moya. "Good-by, neighbor."</p> + +<p>Her eyes did not shrink as the small hand was buried for an instant in +his brown palm, but the youth in her face was quenched.</p> + +<p>"Good-by," she repeated in a colorless voice.</p> + +<p>"Sorry I wasn't able to say good-by to my cousins and Miss Seldon. I +understand you're all going up to the mines. Tell Captain Kilmeny I'll +try to see him at Goldbanks and make all proper apologies for my bad +manners yesterday."</p> + +<p>Moya's face lit up. "Do you live at Goldbanks?"</p> + +<p>"Sometimes."</p> + +<p>He bowed and turned away.</p> + +<p>The girl was left wondering. There had been a note of reservation in his +manner when she had spoken of Goldbanks. Was there after all some +mystery about him or his occupation, something he did not want them to +know? Her interest was incredibly aroused.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a class="pagenum" name="page_141" id="page_141" title="141"></a> +<a name="A_BLIZZARD_3943" id="A_BLIZZARD_3943"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XI</h2> +<h3>A BLIZZARD</h3> +</div> + +<p>Moya found in Goldbanks much to interest her. Its helter-skelter streets +following the line of least resistance, its slapdash buildings, the +scarred hillsides dotted with red shaft-houses beneath which straggled +slate-colored dumps like long beards, were all indigenous to a life the +manner of which she could only guess. Judged by her Bret Harte, the +place ought to be picturesque. Perhaps it was, but Moya was given little +chance to find out. At least it was interesting. Even from an outside +point of view she could see that existence was reduced to the elemental. +Men fought for gold against danger and privation and toil. No doubt if +she could have seen their hearts they fought too for love.</p> + +<p>Miss Seldon was frankly bored by the crude rawness of the place. One +phase of it alone interested her. Of all this turbid activity Dobyans +Verinder was the chief profiter. Other capitalists had an interest in +the camp. Lord Farquhar held stock in the Mollie Gibson and Moya's small +inheritance was invested mostly in the mine. The Kilmenys<a class="pagenum" name="page_142" id="page_142" title="142"></a> owned shares +in two or three paying companies. But Verinder was far and away the +largest single owner. His holdings were scattered all over the camp. In +the Mollie Gibson and the Never Quit, the two biggest properties at +Goldbanks, he held a controlling vote.</p> + +<p>It was impossible for Joyce to put her nose out of the hotel without +being confronted with the wealth of her suitor. This made a tremendous +appeal to the imagination of the young woman. All these thousands of men +were toiling to make him richer. If Verinder could have known it, the +environment was a potent ally for him. In London he was a social +climber, in spite of his gold; here he was a sole autocrat of the camp. +As the weeks passed he began to look more possible. His wealth would +give an amplitude, a spaciousness that would make the relationship +tolerable. As a man of moderate means he would not have done at all, but +every added million would help to reduce the intimacy of the marital +tie. To a certain extent she would go her way and he his. Meanwhile, she +kept him guessing. Sometimes her smiles brought him on the run. Again he +was made to understand that it would be better to keep his distance.</p> + +<p>The days grew shorter and the mornings colder. As the weeks passed the +approach of winter began to push autumn back. Once or twice there was an +inch of snow in the night that melted within a few<a class="pagenum" name="page_143" id="page_143" title="143"></a> hours. The Farquhar +party began to talk of getting back to London, but there was an +impending consolidation of properties that held the men at Goldbanks. +For a month it had been understood that they would be leaving in a few +days now, but the deal on hand was of such importance that it was felt +best to stay until it was effected.</p> + +<p>One afternoon Moya and Joyce rode out from the cañon where the ugly +little town lay huddled and followed the road down into the foothills. +It was a day of sunshine, but back of the mountains hung a cloud that +had been pushing slowly forward. In it the peaks were already lost. The +great hills looked as if the knife of a Titan had sheered off their +summits.</p> + +<p>The young women came to a bit of level and cantered across the mesa in a +race. They had left the road to find wild flowers for Lady Jim.</p> + +<p>Joyce, in a flush of physical well-being, drew up from the gallop and +called back in gay derision to her friend.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you slow-pokes! We win. Don't we, Two Step?" And she patted the +neck of her pony with a little gloved hand.</p> + +<p>Moya halted beside the dainty beauty and laughed slowly, showing in two +even rows the tips of small strong teeth.</p> + +<p>"Of course you win. You're always off with a<a class="pagenum" name="page_144" id="page_144" title="144"></a> hurrah before one knows +what's on. Nobody else has a chance."</p> + +<p>The victor flashed a saucy glance at her. "I like to win. It's more +fun."</p> + +<p>"Yes, it's more fun, but——"</p> + +<p>"But what?"</p> + +<p>"I was thinking that it's no fun for the loser."</p> + +<p>"That's his lookout," came the swift retort. "Nobody makes him play."</p> + +<p>Moya did not answer. She was thinking how Joyce charged the batteries of +men's emotions by the slow look of her deep eyes, by the languorous turn +of her head, by the enthralment of her grace.</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't have your conscience for worlds, Moya. I don't want to be so +dreadfully proper until I'm old and ugly," Joyce continued, pouting.</p> + +<p>"Lady Jim is always complaining because I'm not proper enough," laughed +Moya. "She's forever holding you up to me as an example."</p> + +<p>"So I am. Of course I flirt. I always shall. But I'll not come a +cropper. I'll never let my flirtations interfere with business. Lady Jim +knows that."</p> + +<p>Moya looked straight at her. "Were you ever in love in your life?"</p> + +<p>Her friend laughed to cover a faint blush. "What an <i>enfant terrible</i> +you are, my dear! Of course I've been—hundreds of times."</p> + +<p>"No, but—really?"</p> + +<p>"If you mean the way they are in novels, a desperate<a class="pagenum" name="page_145" id="page_145" title="145"></a> +follow-to-the-end-of-the-world, love-in-a-cottage kind—no. My emotions +are quite under control, thank you. What is it you're driving at?"</p> + +<p>"I just wondered. Look how cloudy the sky is getting. It's going to +storm. We'd better be going home."</p> + +<p>"Let's get our flowers first."</p> + +<p>They wandered among the hills, searching for the gorgeous blossoms of +fall. Not for half an hour did they remount.</p> + +<p>"Which way for home?" Joyce asked briskly, smoothing her skirt.</p> + +<p>Moya looked around before she answered. "I don't know. Must be over that +way, don't you think?"</p> + +<p>Joyce answered with a laugh, using a bit of American slang she had heard +the day before. "Search me! Wouldn't it be jolly if we were lost?"</p> + +<p>"How dark the sky is getting. I believe a flake of snow fell on my +hand."</p> + +<p>"Yes. There's one on my face. The road must be just around this hill."</p> + +<p>"I daresay you're right. These hills are like peas in a pod. I can't +tell one from another."</p> + +<p>They rode around the base of the hill into a little valley formed by +other hills. No sign of the road appeared.</p> + +<p>"We're lost, Moya, They'll have to send out<a class="pagenum" name="page_146" id="page_146" title="146"></a> search parties for us. +We'll get in the dreadful Sunday papers again," Joyce laughed.</p> + +<p>An anxious little frown showed on Moya's forehead. She was not +frightened, but she was beginning to get worried. A rising wind and a +falling temperature were not good omens. Moreover, one of those swift +changes common to the Rockies had come over the country. Out of a leaden +sky snow was falling fast. Banked clouds were driving the wintry +sunshine toward the horizon. It would soon be night, and if the signs +were true a bitter one of storm.</p> + +<p>"It's getting cold. We must find the road and hurry home," Joyce said.</p> + +<p>"Yes." Moya's voice was cheerful, but her heart had sunk. An icy hand +seemed to have clutched it and tightened. She had heard the dreadful +things that happened during Rocky Mountain blizzards. They must find the +road. They <i>must</i> find it.</p> + +<p>She set herself searching for it, conscious all the time that they might +be going in the wrong direction. For this unfeatured roll of hills +offered no guide, no landmark that stood out from the surrounding +country.</p> + +<p>Moya covered her anxiety with laughter and small jokes, but there came a +time when these did not avail, when Joyce faced the truth too—that they +were lost in the desert, two helpless girls, with night upon them and a +storm driving up. Somewhere,<a class="pagenum" name="page_147" id="page_147" title="147"></a> not many miles from them, lay Goldbanks. +There were safety, snug electric-lighted rooms with great fires blazing +from open chimneys, a thousand men who would gladly have gone into the +night to look for them. But all of these might as well be a hundred +leagues away, since they did not know the way home.</p> + +<p>The big deep eyes of Joyce shone with fear. Never before in her +sheltered life had she been brought close to Nature in one of her +terrible moods.</p> + +<p>From her soft round throat sobbing words leaped. "We're lost, Moya. +We're going to die."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense. Don't be a goosie," her downright friend answered sharply.</p> + +<p>"But—what shall we do?"</p> + +<p>Scudding clouds had leaped across the sky and wiped out the last narrow +line of sunlight along the eastern horizon. Every minute it was getting +colder. The wind had a bitter sting to it.</p> + +<p>"We must find the trail," Moya replied.</p> + +<p>"And if we don't?"</p> + +<p>"But we shall," the Irish girl assured with a finality that lacked +conviction. "You wait here. Don't move from the spot. I'm going to ride +round you at a little distance. There must be a trail here somewhere."</p> + +<p>Moya gave her pony the quirt and cantered off. Swiftly she circled, but +before she had completed<a class="pagenum" name="page_148" id="page_148" title="148"></a> the circumference the snow, now falling +heavily, had covered the ground and obliterated any path there might be. +With a heavy heart she started to return to her friend.</p> + +<p>Owing both to the lie of the ground and the increasing density she could +not see Joyce. Thrice she called before a faint answer reached her ears. +Moya rode toward the voice, stopping now and again to call and wait for +a reply. Her horizon was now just beyond the nose of her pony, so that +it was not until they were only a few yards apart that she saw Two Step +and its rider. Both broncho and girl were sheeted with snow.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I thought you were gone. I thought you were never coming," Joyce +reproached in a wail of despair. "Did you find the road?"</p> + +<p>"No, but I've thought of something. They say horses will find their own +way home if you let them. Loosen the reins, dear."</p> + +<p>Moya spoke with a business-like cheerfulness meant to deceive her +friend. She knew it must be her part to lead. Joyce was as soft and +about as competent as a kitten to face a crisis like this. She was a +creature all curves and dimples, sparkling with the sunshine of life +like the wavelets of a glassy sea. But there was in her an instinctive +shrinking from all pain and harshness. When her little world refused to +smile, as very rarely it did for her, she shut her eyes, stopped her +ears, and<a class="pagenum" name="page_149" id="page_149" title="149"></a> pouted. Against the implacable condition that confronted them +now she could only whimper her despair.</p> + +<p>They waited with loose reins for the ponies to move. The storm beat upon +them, confining their vision to a space within reach of their +outstretched arms. Only the frightened wails of Joyce and the comforting +words of her friend could be heard in the shriek of the wind. The +ponies, feeling themselves free, stirred restlessly. Moya clucked to her +roan and patted his neck encouragingly.</p> + +<p>"Good old Billy. Take us home, old fellow," she urged.</p> + +<p>Presently the horse began to move, aimlessly at first, but soon with a +steadiness that suggested purpose. Moya unloosed with her chill fingers +the rope coiled to her saddle, and threw one end to her friend.</p> + +<p>"Tie it tight to the saddle horn, Joyce—with a double knot," she +ordered. "And keep your hand on it to see that it doesn't come undone."</p> + +<p>"I can't tie it. My hands are frozen ... I'm freezing to death."</p> + +<p>Moya made fast one end of the rope and then slipped from the saddle. The +other end she tied securely to the saddle horn of her friend. She +stripped from her hands the heavy riding gauntlets she wore and gave +them to Joyce.</p> + +<p>"Pull these on and your hands will be warmer.<a class="pagenum" name="page_150" id="page_150" title="150"></a> Don't give up. Sit tight +and buck up. If you do we'll be all right."</p> + +<p>"But I can't.... It's awful.... How far do we have to go?"</p> + +<p>"We'll soon hit the road. Then we can go faster."</p> + +<p>Moya swung to her saddle again stiffly, and Billy took up the march in +the driving storm, which was growing every minute more fierce and +bitter. The girl did not dare give way to her own terror, for she felt +if she should become panic-stricken all would be lost. She tried to +remember how long people could live in a blizzard. Had she not read of +some men who had been out two days in one and yet reached safety?</p> + +<p>The icy blast bit into her, searched through to her bones and sapped her +strength. More than once she drew up the rope with her icy hands to make +sure that Joyce was still in the saddle. She found her there blue from +exposure, almost helpless, but still faintly responsive to the call of +life.</p> + +<p>The horses moved faster, with more certainty, so that Moya felt they had +struck a familiar trail. But in her heart she doubted whether either of +the riders would come to shelter alive. The ponies traveled upward into +the hills.</p> + +<p>Joyce, lying forward helpless across the saddle horn, slid gently to the +ground. Her friend stopped. What could she do? Once she had descended, +it<a class="pagenum" name="page_151" id="page_151" title="151"></a> would be impossible to get back into the saddle.</p> + +<p>Searching the hillside, the girl's glance was arrested by a light. She +could not at first believe her good fortune. From the saddle she slipped +to the ground in a huddle, stiffly found her feet again, and began to +clamber up the stiff incline. Presently she made out a hut. Stumblingly, +she staggered up till she reached the door and fell heavily against it, +clutching at the latch so that it gave to her hand and sent her lurching +into the room. Her knees doubled under her and she sank at the feet of +one of two men who sat beside a table playing cards.</p> + +<p>The man leaped up as if he had seen a ghost. "Goddlemighty, it's a +woman!"</p> + +<p>"My friend ... she's outside ... at the foot of the hill ... save her," +the girl's white lips framed.</p> + +<p>They slipped on mackinaw coats and disappeared into the white swirling +night. Moya crouched beside the red-hot stove, and life slowly tingled +through her frozen veins, filling her with sharp pain. To keep back the +groans she had to set her teeth. It seemed to her that she had never +endured such agony.</p> + +<p>After a time the men returned, carrying Joyce between them. They put her +on the bed at the far corner of the room, and one of the men poured from +a bottle on the table some whisky. This they<a class="pagenum" name="page_152" id="page_152" title="152"></a> forced between her +unconscious lips. With a shivering sigh she came back to her +surroundings.</p> + +<p>Moya moved across to the group by the bed.</p> + +<p>"I'll take care of her if you'll look after the horses," she told the +men.</p> + +<p>One of them answered roughly. "The horses will have to rough it. This +ain't any night for humans to be hunting horses."</p> + +<p>"They can't be far," Moya pleaded.</p> + +<p>Grudgingly the second man spoke. "Guess we better get them, Dave. They +were down where we found the girl. We can stable them in the tunnel."</p> + +<p>Left to herself, Moya unlaced the shoes of Miss Seldon. Vigorously she +rubbed the feet and limbs till the circulation began to be restored. +Joyce cried and writhed with the pain, while the other young woman +massaged and cuddled her in turn. The worst of the suffering was past +before the men returned, stamping snow from their feet and shaking it +from their garments over the floor.</p> + +<p>"A hell of a night to be out in," the one called Dave growled to his +fellow.</p> + +<p>"Did you get the horses?" Moya asked timidly.</p> + +<p>"They're in the tunnel." The ungracious answer was given without a +glance in her direction.</p> + +<p>They were a black-a-vised, ill-favored pair, these miners upon whose +hospitality fate had thrown them. Foreigners of some sort they were, +Cornishmen, Moya guessed. But whatever their nationality<a class="pagenum" name="page_153" id="page_153" title="153"></a> they were +primeval savages untouched by the fourteen centuries of civilizing +influences since their forbears ravaged England. To the super-nervous +minds of these exhausted young women there was a suggestion of apes in +the huge musclebound shoulders and the great rough hands at the ends of +long gnarled arms. Small shifty black eyes, rimmed with red from drink, +suggested cunning, while the loose-lipped heavy mouths added more than a +hint of bestiality. It lent no comfort to the study of them that the +large whisky bottle was two-thirds empty.</p> + +<p>They slouched back to their cards and their bottle. It had been bad +enough to find them sullen and inhospitable, but as the liquor +stimulated their unhealthy imaginations it was worse to feel the covert +looks stealing now and again toward them. Joyce, sleeping fitfully in +the arms of Moya, woke with a start to see them drinking together at the +table.</p> + +<p>"I don't like them. I'm afraid of them," she whispered.</p> + +<p>"We mustn't let them know it," Moya whispered in her ear.</p> + +<p>For an hour she had been racked by fears, had faced unflinchingly their +low laughs and furtive glances.</p> + +<p>Now one of the men spoke. "From Goldbanks?"<a class="pagenum" name="page_154" id="page_154" title="154"></a></p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"You don't live there."</p> + +<p>"No. We belong to the English party—Mr. Verinder's friends."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Verinder's friends. And which of you is his particular friend?" The +sneer was unmistakable.</p> + +<p>"We started out this afternoon for wild flowers and the storm caught +us," Moya hurried on.</p> + +<p>"So you're Verinder's friends, are you? Well, we don't think a whole lot +of Mr. Verinder out here."</p> + +<p>Moya knew now that the mention of Verinder's name had been a mistake. +The relations between the mine owners and the workmen in the camp were +strained, and as a foreign non-resident capitalist the English +millionaire was especially obnoxious. Moreover, his supercilious manners +had not helped to endear him since his arrival.</p> + +<p>The man called Dave got to his feet with a reckless laugh. "No free +lodgings here for Mr. Verinder's friends. You'n got to pay for your +keep, my dears."</p> + +<p>Miss Dwight looked at him with unflinching eyes which refused to +understand his meaning. "We'll pay whatever you ask and double the +amount after we reach camp."</p> + +<p>"Don't want your dirty money. Gi' us a kiss,<a class="pagenum" name="page_155" id="page_155" title="155"></a> lass. That's fair pay. We +ain't above kissing Verinder's friends if he is a rotten slave driver."</p> + +<p>Moya rose to her slender height, and the flash of courage blazed in her +eyes.</p> + +<p>"Sit down," she ordered.</p> + +<p>The man stopped in his tracks, amazed at the resolution of the slim tall +girl.</p> + +<p>"Go on, Dave. Don't let her bluff you," his companion urged.</p> + +<p>The miner laughed and moved forward.</p> + +<p>"You coward, to take advantage of two girls driven to you by the storm. +I didn't think the man lived that would do it," panted Moya.</p> + +<p>"You'n got a bit to learn, miss. Whad's the use of gettin' your Dutch +up. I ain't good enough for 'ee, like enough."</p> + +<p>The girl held up a hand. "Listen!"</p> + +<p>They could hear only the wild roar of the storm outside and the low sobs +of Joyce as she lay crouched on the bed.</p> + +<p>"Well?" he growled. "I'm listenin'. What, then?"</p> + +<p>"I'd rather go out into that white death than stay here with such +creatures as you are."</p> + +<p>"Doan't be a fool, lass. Us'n won't hurt 'ee any," the second man +reassured roughly.</p> + +<p>"You'll stay here where it's warm. But you'll remember that we're boss +in this shack. You'n<a class="pagenum" name="page_156" id="page_156" title="156"></a> came without being asked. I'm domned if you'll +ride your high horse over me."</p> + +<p>"Go on, Dave. Tak' your kiss, man."</p> + +<p>Then the miracle happened. The door opened, and out of the swirling +wind-tossed snow came a Man.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a class="pagenum" name="page_157" id="page_157" title="157"></a> +<a name="OUT_OF_THE_STORM_A_MAN_4373" id="OUT_OF_THE_STORM_A_MAN_4373"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XII</h2> +<h3>OUT OF THE STORM A MAN</h3> +</div> + +<p>He stood blinking in the doorway, white-sheeted with snow from head to +heel. As his eyes became accustomed to the light they passed with +surprise from the men to the young women. A flash of recognition lit in +them, but he offered no word of greeting.</p> + +<p>Plainly he had interrupted a scene of some sort. The leer on the flushed +face of Dave, the look of undaunted spirit in that of the girl facing +him, the sheer panic-stricken terror of her crouching companion, all +told him as much. Nor was it hard to guess the meaning of that dramatic +moment he had by chance chosen for his entrance. His alert eyes took in +every detail, asked questions but answered none, and in the end ignored +much.</p> + +<p>"What are you doing here?" demanded one of the miners.</p> + +<p>"Been out to the Jack Pot and was on my way back to town. Got caught in +the storm and struck for the nearest shelter. A bad night out, +Trefoyle."<a class="pagenum" name="page_158" id="page_158" title="158"></a> He closed the door, moved forward into the room, and threw +off his heavy overcoat.</p> + +<p>Moya had recognized him from the first instant. Now Joyce too saw who he +was. She twisted lithely from the bed, slipped past Moya, past the +miners, and with the sob of a frightened child caught at his hand and +arm.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mr. Kilmeny, save us ... save us!"</p> + +<p>Jack nodded reassuringly. "It's all right. Don't worry."</p> + +<p>She clung to him, shivering back to self-control. This man's presence +spelled safety. In the high-laced boots of a mining man, he showed a +figure well-knit and graceful, springy with youth, but carrying the +poise of power. His clean-cut bronzed face backed the promise; so too +did the ease of his bearing.</p> + +<p>Moya gave a deep sigh of relief and sat down on the edge of the bed, +grown suddenly faint. At last her burden was lifted to stronger +shoulders.</p> + +<p>"You ain't wanted here, Jack Kilmeny," the standing miner said sourly. +He was undecided what to do, perplexed and angry at this unexpected +hindrance.</p> + +<p>"Seems to be a difference of opinion about that, Peale," retorted the +newcomer lightly, kicking snow from the spurs and the heels of his +boots.</p> + +<p>"Trefoyle and me own this cabin. You'll sing small, by Goad, or you'll +get out."<a class="pagenum" name="page_159" id="page_159" title="159"></a></p> + +<p>"You wouldn't put a dog out on a night like this, let alone a man. It +would be murder," Kilmeny answered mildly.</p> + +<p>"There's horses in the tunnel. You can bed wi' them."</p> + +<p>Jack glanced around, took in the whisky bottle and their red-rimmed +eyes. He nodded agreement.</p> + +<p>"Right you are, boys. We three will move over to the tunnel and leave +the house to the women."</p> + +<p>"You ain't got the say here, not by a domned sight, Jack Kilmeny. +This'll be the way of it. You'll git out. We'll stay. Understand?" Peale +ground out between set teeth.</p> + +<p>Jack smiled, but his eyes were like steel. "Suppose we go over to the +shaft-house and talk it over, boys. We'll all understand it better +then."</p> + +<p>Kilmeny still stood close to the red-hot stove. He was opening and +closing his fingers to take the stiffness of the frost out of them.</p> + +<p>"By Goad, no! You go—we stay. See?"</p> + +<p>The young man was now rubbing industriously the thumb and forefinger of +his right hand with the palm of his left.</p> + +<p>"No, I don't see that, Peale. Doesn't sound reasonable to me. But I'll +talk it over with you both—in the shaft-house."</p> + +<p>Jack's eyes were fastened steadily on Peale. The man was standing close +to a shelf in a corner of the<a class="pagenum" name="page_160" id="page_160" title="160"></a> cabin. The shelf was in the shadow, but +Kilmeny guessed what lay upon it. He was glad that though his legs were +still stiff and cold the fingers of his right hand had been massaged to +a supple warmth.</p> + +<p>"You be warm now, lad. Clear out," warned the big Cornishman.</p> + +<p>"Build 'ee a fire in the tunnel, mon," suggested Trefoyle.</p> + +<p>"We'll all go or we'll all stay. Drop that, Peale."</p> + +<p>The last words rang out in sharp command. Quicker than the eye could +follow Kilmeny's hand had brushed up past his hip and brought with it a +shining thirty-eight.</p> + +<p>Taken by surprise, Peale stood stupidly, his hand still on the shelf. +His fingers had closed on a revolver, but they had found the barrel +instead of the butt.</p> + +<p>"Step forward to the table, Peale—<i>with your hand empty</i>. That's right. +Now listen. These young women have got to sleep. They're fagged to +exhaustion. We three are going over to the shaft-house. Anything you've +got to say to me can be said there. Understand?"</p> + +<p>The man stood in a stubborn sullen silence, but his partner spoke up.</p> + +<p>"No guns along, Kilmeny, eh?"</p> + +<p>"No. We'll leave them here."</p> + +<p>"Good enough, eh, Peale?"</p> + +<p>Trefoyle's small eyes glittered. Slyly he winked<a class="pagenum" name="page_161" id="page_161" title="161"></a> to his partner to +agree, then got a lantern, lit it clumsily, and shuffled out with Peale +at his heels.</p> + +<p>Joyce clung to Jack's arm, bewitchingly helpless and dependent. A queer +thrill went through him at the touch of her soft finger tips.</p> + +<p>"You won't leave us," she implored. "You wouldn't, would you?"</p> + +<p>"Only for a little while. Bolt the door. Don't open it unless I give the +word." He stepped across to Moya and handed her his revolver. In a very +low voice he spoke to her. "Remember. You're not to open unless I tell +you to let me in. If they try to break the door shoot through it at them +waist high. <i>Shoot to kill.</i> Promise me that."</p> + +<p>Her dark eyes met and searched his. The faintest quiver of the lip +showed that she knew what was before him. "I promise," she said in the +same low voice.</p> + +<p>Moya bolted the door after him and sat down trembling by the table, the +revolver in her shaking hand. She knew he had gone to fight for them and +that he had left his weapon behind according to agreement. He was going +against odds just as his father had done before him in that memorable +fight years ago. If they beat him they would probably kill him. And what +chance had one slender man against two such giants. She shuddered.</p> + +<p>"What are they going to do, Moya?" whispered Joyce.<a class="pagenum" name="page_162" id="page_162" title="162"></a></p> + +<p>Her friend looked at her steadily. "Didn't you hear? They said they +wanted to talk over the arrangements."</p> + +<p>"Yes, but—didn't it seem to you——? Why did he give you that pistol?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, just so that we wouldn't be afraid."</p> + +<p>Hand in hand they sat. Their hearts beat like those of frightened +rabbits. The wail of the wind screaming outside seemed the cry of lost +souls. Was murder being done out there while they waited?</p> + +<p>Kilmeny strode after the Cornishmen with the light-footed step of a +night nurse. Beside the huge miners he looked slight, but the flow of +his rippling muscles was smooth and hard as steel. He had been in many a +rough and tumble fray. The saying went in Goldbanks that he "had the +guts" and could whip his weight in wildcats. There was in him the +fighting edge, that stark courage which shakes the nerve of a man of +lesser mettle. He knew that to-night he needed it if ever he did. For +these men were strong as bears and had as little remorse.</p> + +<p>Inside the shaft-house, his quick glance swept the dimly lighted room +and took in every detail.</p> + +<p>Trefoyle put the lantern down on a shelf and turned to the man who had +interfered with them. "Is't a fight ye want, mon?"</p> + +<p>Kilmeny knew the folly of attempting argument or appeal to their sense +of right. Straight to business<a class="pagenum" name="page_163" id="page_163" title="163"></a> he cut. "I'm not hunting one. But I +reckon this is up to me. I'll take you one at a time—unless you'd +rather try it two to one and make sure."</p> + +<p>His sneer stung. Peale tore off his coat with an angry roar.</p> + +<p>"By Goad, I'm good enough for you."</p> + +<p>Head down like a bull, he rushed at his foe. Jack sidestepped and lashed +out at him as he shot past. Peale went down heavily, but scrambled +awkwardly to his feet and flung himself forward again. This time Kilmeny +met him fairly with a straight left, tilted back the shaggy head, and +crossed with the right to the point of the jaw.</p> + +<p>As the fellow went to the floor the second time Jack was struck heavily +on the side of his face and knocked from his feet upon the body of the +Cornishman. Even as he fell Kilmeny knew that Trefoyle had broken faith. +He rolled over quickly, so that the latter, throwing himself heavily on +top of him, kneed his partner instead of Jack.</p> + +<p>His great hands gripped the young man as he wriggled away. By sheer +strength they dragged him back. Kilmeny wrapped his legs around Trefoyle +to turn over. He heard a groan and guessed the reason. The muscular legs +clenched tighter the man above him, moved slowly up and down those of +his foe. With a cry of pain the Cornishman flung himself to one side and +tore loose. His trouser legs were ripped from thigh to calf and<a class="pagenum" name="page_164" id="page_164" title="164"></a> blood +streamed down the limb. The sharp rowels of Kilmeny's spurs had sunk +into the flesh and saved their owner.</p> + +<p>Jack staggered to his feet half dazed. Peale was slowly rising, his +murderous eyes fixed on the young man. The instinct of self-preservation +sent the latter across the room to a pile of steel drills. As the two +men followed he stooped, caught up one of the heavy bars, and thrust +with a short-arm movement for Trefoyle's head. The man threw out his +hands and keeled over like a stuck pig.</p> + +<p>Kilmeny threw away his drill and fought it out with Peale. They might +have been compared to a rapier and a two-handed broadsword. Jack was +more than a skilled boxer. He was a cool punishing fighter, one who +could give as well as take. Once Peale cornered him, bent evidently on +closing and crushing his ribs with a terrific bear hug. It would have +been worth a dozen lessons from a boxing master to see how the young man +fought him back with jabs and uppercuts long enough to duck under the +giant's arm to safety.</p> + +<p>The wild swinging blows of the Cornishman landed heavily from time to +time, but his opponent's elbow or forearm often broke the force. The +lighter man was slippery as an eel, as hard to hit as a Corbett. +Meanwhile, he was cutting his foe to ribbons, slashing at him with swift +drives that carried the full force of one hundred seventy-five pounds, +sending<a class="pagenum" name="page_165" id="page_165" title="165"></a> home damaging blows to the body that played the mischief with +his wind. The big miner's face was a projection map with wheals for +mountains and with rivers represented by red trickles of blood.</p> + +<p>Quartering round the room they came again to the drills. Peale, panting +and desperate, stooped for one of them. As he rose unsteadily Kilmeny +closed, threw him hard, and fell on top. Jack beat savagely the swollen +upturned face with short arm jolts until the fellow relaxed his hold +with a moan.</p> + +<p>"Doan't 'ee kill me, mon. I've had enough," he grunted.</p> + +<p>Kilmeny sprang to his feet, caught up the bar of steel, and poked the +prostrate man in the ribs with it.</p> + +<p>"Get up," he ordered. "You're a pair of cowardly brutes. Can't be decent +to a couple of helpless women in your power. Can't play fair in a fight +with a man half the size of one of you. Get up, I say, and throw a +dipperful of water in Trefoyle's face. He's not dead by a long shot, +though he deserves to be."</p> + +<p>Peale clambered to his feet in sulky submission and did as he was told. +Slowly Trefoyle's eyelids flickered open.</p> + +<p>"What be wrong wi' un?" he asked, trying to sit up.<a class="pagenum" name="page_166" id="page_166" title="166"></a></p> + +<p>"You got what was coming to you. Is it enough, or do you want more?"</p> + +<p>"Did 'ee hit me, lad. Fegs, it's enough. I give you best."</p> + +<p>"Then get up. We'll go back to the house for blankets and fuel. You'll +sleep to-night with the horses in the tunnel."</p> + +<p>The two girls shivering in the hot room heard the footsteps of the +returning men as they crunched the snow. Moya sat opposite the door, +white to the lips, her hand resting on the table and holding the +revolver. Joyce had sunk down on the bed and had covered her face with +her hands.</p> + +<p>A cheerful voice called to them from outside.</p> + +<p>"All right. Everything settled. Let us in, please."</p> + +<p>Moya flew to the door and unbolted it. The Cornishmen came in first, and +after them Kilmeny. At sight of the ravages of war Joyce gave a little +cry of amazement. The big miners were covered with blood. They had the +cowed hangdog look of thoroughly beaten men. Jack's face too was a +sight, but he still walked springily.</p> + +<p>He gave curt commands and the others obeyed him without a word. Almost +the first thing he did was to step to the table and fling the whisky +bottle through the door into the storm.</p> + +<p>"We'll not need that," he said.<a class="pagenum" name="page_167" id="page_167" title="167"></a></p> + +<p>One of the miners gathered up their extra blankets while the other took +a load of firewood.</p> + +<p>As soon as they had gone Joyce cried breathlessly, "You fought them."</p> + +<p>Jack looked at her and his eyes softened. All men answered to the appeal +of her beauty. "We had a little argument. They couldn't see it my way. +But they're satisfied now."</p> + +<p>Moya bit her lower lip. Her eyes were shining with tears. A queer +emotion welled up in her heart. But it was Joyce who put their thanks +into words.</p> + +<p>"You saved us. You're the bravest man I ever saw," she cried.</p> + +<p>A deeper color rose to the embarrassed face of the young man. "I expect +you didn't need any saving to speak of. The boys got too ambitious. +That's about all." He was thinking that she was the most beautiful +creature he had ever set eyes upon and thanking his lucky stars that he +had come along in the nick of time.</p> + +<p>"You can <i>say</i> that, Mr. Kilmeny, but we know," she answered softly.</p> + +<p>"All right. Have it your own way, Miss Seldon," he returned with a +smile.</p> + +<p>"You'll let us doctor your wounds, won't you?" Moya asked shyly.</p> + +<p>He laughed like a boy. "You're making me ashamed. I haven't any wounds. +I ought to have washed the blood off before I came in, but I didn't<a class="pagenum" name="page_168" id="page_168" title="168"></a> +have a chance. All I need is a basin of water and a towel."</p> + +<p>The girl ran to get them for him. He protested, laughing, but was none +the less pleased while they hovered about him.</p> + +<p>"Such a dirty towel. Don't you suppose there's a clean one somewhere," +Joyce said with a little <i>moue</i> of disgust as she handed it to him.</p> + +<p>He shook his head. "It's like the one in 'The Virginian'—been too +popular."</p> + +<p>Moya gave him the scarf that had been around her head while she was +riding. "Take this. No.... I want you to use it ... please."</p> + +<p>After he had dried his face Jack explained their disposition for the +night.</p> + +<p>"We'll stay in the tunnel. You'll be alone here—and quite safe. No need +to be in the least nervous. Make yourselves comfortable till morning if +you can."</p> + +<p>"And you—do you mean that you're going back ... to those men?" Moya +asked.</p> + +<p>"They're quite tame—ready to eat out of my hand. Don't worry about me."</p> + +<p>"But I don't want you to go. I'm afraid to be alone. Stay here with us, +Mr. Kilmeny. I don't care about sleeping," Joyce begged.</p> + +<p>"There's nothing to be afraid of—and you need your sleep. I'll not be +far away. You couldn't be<a class="pagenum" name="page_169" id="page_169" title="169"></a> safer in Goldbanks. I'll be on guard all +night, you know," he reassured.</p> + +<p>It escaped him for the moment that Joyce was thinking about her own +safety, while Moya was anxious about his, but later he was to remember +it.</p> + +<p>He had not been gone ten minutes before Joyce was sound asleep. She +trusted him and she trusted Moya, and for her that was enough. All her +life she had relied on somebody else to bear the brunt of her troubles. +But the girl with the powdered freckles beneath the dusky eyes carried +her own burdens. She too had implicit confidence in the champion who had +come out of the storm to help them and had taken his life in hand to do +it. Her heart went out to him with all the passionate ardor of generous +youth. She had never met such a man, so strong, so masterful, and yet so +boyish.</p> + +<p>Her brain was far too active for slumber. She sat before the stove and +went over the adventures of the past two hours. How strange that they +had met him again in this dramatic fashion. Perhaps he lived at +Goldbanks now and they would see more of him. She hoped so mightily, +even though there persisted in her mind a picture of his blue-gray eyes +paying homage to Joyce.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a class="pagenum" name="page_170" id="page_170" title="170"></a> +<a name="SHOT_TO_THE_CORE_WITH_SUNLIGHT_4741" id="SHOT_TO_THE_CORE_WITH_SUNLIGHT_4741"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XIII</h2> +<h3>SHOT TO THE CORE WITH SUNLIGHT</h3> +</div> + +<p>The storm had blown itself out before morning. A white world sparkled +with flashes of sunlight when Moya opened the door of the cabin and +gazed out. Looking down into the peaceful valley below, it was hard to +believe that death had called to them so loudly only a few hours +earlier.</p> + +<p>Kilmeny emerged from the shaft-house and called a cheerful good-morning +across to her.</p> + +<p>"How did you sleep?" he shouted as he crunched across the snow toward +her.</p> + +<p>"Not so very well. Joyce slept for both of us."</p> + +<p>Their smiles met. They had been comrades in the determination to shield +her from whatever difficulties the situation might hold.</p> + +<p>"I'm glad. Is she quite herself this morning? Last night she was very +tired and a good deal alarmed."</p> + +<p>"Yes. After you came Joyce did not worry any more. She knew you would +see that everything came right."<a class="pagenum" name="page_171" id="page_171" title="171"></a></p> + +<p>The color crept into his bronzed face. "Did she say so?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. But it was not what she said. I could tell."</p> + +<p>"I'm glad I could do what I did."</p> + +<p>The eyes that looked at him were luminous. Something sweet and mocking +glowed in them inscrutably. He knew her gallant soul approved him, and +his heart lifted with gladness. The beauty of her companion fascinated +him, but he divined in this Irish girl the fine thread of loyalty that +lifted her character out of the commonplace. Her slender, vivid +personality breathed a vigor of the spirit wholly engaging.</p> + +<p>Joyce joined her friend in the doorway. With her cheeks still flushed +from sleep and her hair a little disheveled, she reminded Jack of a +beautiful crumpled rose leaf. Since her charm was less an expression of +an inner quality, she needed more than Moya the adventitious aids of +dress.</p> + +<p>The young woman's smile came out warmly at sight of Kilmeny. It was her +custom always to appropriate the available man. Toward this bronzed +young fellow with the splendid throat sloping into muscular shoulders +she felt very kindly this morning. He had stood between her and trouble. +He was so patently an admirer of Joyce Seldon. And on his own merits the +virility and good looks of him drew her admiration. At sight<a class="pagenum" name="page_172" id="page_172" title="172"></a> of the +bruises on his face her heart beat a little fast with pleasurable +excitement. He had fought for her like a man. She did not care if he was +a workingman. His name was Kilmeny. He was a gentleman by birth, worth a +dozen Verinders.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Kilmeny, how can we ever thank you?"</p> + +<p>He looked at her and nodded gayly. "Forget it, Miss Seldon. I couldn't +have done less."</p> + +<p>"Or more," she added softly, her lovely eyes in his.</p> + +<p>No change showed in the lean brown face of the man, but his blood moved +faster. It was impossible to miss the appeal of sex that escaped at +every graceful movement of the soft sensuous body, that glowed from the +deep still eyes in an electric current flashing straight to his veins. +He would have loved to touch the soft flushed cheek, the crisp amber +hair clouding the convolutions of the little ears. His eyes were an +index of the man, bold and possessive and unwavering. They announced him +a dynamic American, one who walked the way of the strong and fought for +his share of the spoils. But when she looked at him they softened. +Something fine and tender transfigured the face and wiped out its +sardonic recklessness.</p> + +<p>"The pressing question before the house is breakfast. There are bacon +and flour and coffee here. Shall I make a batch of biscuits and offer +you pot<a class="pagenum" name="page_173" id="page_173" title="173"></a> luck? Or do you prefer to wait till we can get to Goldbanks?"</p> + +<p>"What do you think?" Moya asked.</p> + +<p>"I think whatever you think. We'll not reach town much before noon. If +you can rough it for a meal I should advise trying out the new cook. It +really depends on how hungry you are."</p> + +<p>"I'm hungry enough to eat my boots," the Irish girl announced promptly.</p> + +<p>"So am I. Let's stay—if our hosts won't object," Joyce added.</p> + +<p>"I'm quite sure they won't," Kilmeny replied dryly. "All right. A camp +breakfast it is."</p> + +<p>"I'm going to help you," Moya told him.</p> + +<p>"Of course. You'd better wash the dishes as soon as we get hot water. +They're probably pretty grimy."</p> + +<p>He stepped into the cabin and took off his coat. Moya rolled up her +sleeves to the elbows of her plump dimpled arms. Miss Seldon hovered +about helplessly and wanted to know what she could do.</p> + +<p>The miner had not "batched" in the hills for years without having +learned how to cook. His biscuits came to the table hot and flaky, his +bacon was done to a turn. Even the chicory coffee tasted delicious to +the hungry guests.</p> + +<p>With her milk-white skin, her vivid crimson lips so exquisitely turned, +and the superb vitality of her youth, Joyce bloomed in the sordid hut +like a flower<a class="pagenum" name="page_174" id="page_174" title="174"></a> in a rubbage heap. To her bronzed <i>vis-a-vis</i> it seemed +that the world this morning was shimmering romance. Never before had he +enjoyed a breakfast half as much. He and Miss Seldon did most of the +talking, while Moya listened, the star flash in her eyes and the +whimsical little smile on her lips.</p> + +<p>Joyce was as gay as a lark. She chattered with the childish artlessness +that at times veiled her sophistication. Jack was given to understand +that she loved to be natural and simple, that she detested the shams of +social convention to which she was made to conform. Her big lovely eyes +were wistful in their earnestness as they met his. It was not wholly a +pose with her. For the moment she meant all she said. A delightful +excitement fluttered her pulses. She was playing the game she liked +best, moving forward to the first skirmishes of that sex war which was +meat and drink to her vanity. The man attracted her as few men ever had. +That nothing could come of it beyond the satisfaction of the hour did +not mitigate her zest for the battle.</p> + +<p>They were still at breakfast when one of the Cornishmen pushed open the +door and looked in. He stood looking down on them sullenly without +speaking.</p> + +<p>"Want to see me, Peale?" asked Kilmeny.<a class="pagenum" name="page_175" id="page_175" title="175"></a></p> + +<p>"Did I say I wanted to see 'ee?" demanded the other roughly.</p> + +<p>"Better come in and shut the door. The air's chilly."</p> + +<p>The battered face of his companion loomed over the shoulder of Peale. To +Kilmeny it was plain that they had come with the idea of making +themselves disagreeable. Very likely they had agreed to force their +company upon the young women for breakfast. But the sight of their +dainty grace, together with Jack's cheerful invitation, was too much for +their audacity. Peale grumbled something inaudible and turned away, +slamming the door as he went.</p> + +<p>The young miner laughed softly. If he had shown any unwillingness they +would have pushed their way in. His urbanity had disarmed them.</p> + +<p>"They're not really bad men, you know—just think they are," he +explained casually.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid of them. I don't trust them," Joyce shuddered.</p> + +<p>"Well, I trust them while they're under my eye. The trouble with men of +that stripe is that they're yellow. A game man gives you a fighting +chance, but fellows of this sort hit while you're not looking. But you +needn't worry. They're real tame citizens this morning."</p> + +<p>"Yes, they looked tame," Moya answered dryly. "So tame I'm sure they'd +like to crucify you."<a class="pagenum" name="page_176" id="page_176" title="176"></a></p> + +<p>"I daresay they would, but in this world a man can't get everything he +would like. I've wanted two or three pleasures myself that I didn't +get."</p> + +<p>His gaze happened to turn toward Joyce as he was speaking. He had been +thinking of nothing definite, but at the meeting of their eyes something +flashed into birth and passed from one to the other like an electric +current. Jack knew now something that he wanted, but he did not admit +that he could not get it. If she cared for him—and what else had her +eyes told him in the golden glow of that electric moment?—a hundred +Verinders and Lady Farquhar could not keep them apart.</p> + +<p>His heart sang jubilantly. He rose abruptly and left the room because he +was afraid he could not veil his feeling.</p> + +<p>Joyce smiled happily. "Where is he going?" she asked innocently.</p> + +<p>Moya looked at her and then turned her eyes away. She had understood the +significance of what she had seen and a door in her heart that had been +open for weeks clanged shut.</p> + +<p>"I don't know, unless to get the horses," she said quietly.</p> + +<p>A few minutes later he returned, leading the animals. From the door of +the shaft-house the Cornishmen watched them mount and ride away. The men +smoked in sullen silence.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style='width:350px'> +<a name="illus-002" id="illus-002"></a> +<img src="images/illus-177.jpg" alt="THEY RODE THROUGH A WORLD SHOT TO THE CORE WITH SUNLIGHT. THE SNOW SPARKLED AND GLEAMED WITH IT. P. 177" title="" width="350" /><br /> +<span class="caption">THEY RODE THROUGH A WORLD SHOT TO THE CORE WITH SUNLIGHT. THE SNOW SPARKLED AND GLEAMED WITH IT. P. 177</span> +</div> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="page_177" id="page_177" title="177"></a>Before +they had ridden a hundred yards Joyce was in gay +talk with Kilmeny. She had forgotten the very existence of the +miners. But Moya did not forget. She had seen the expression of their +faces as the horses had passed. If a chance ever offered itself they +would have their revenge.</p> + +<p>It was a day winnowed from a lifetime of ordinary ones. They rode +through a world shot to the core with sunlight. The snow sparkled and +gleamed with it. The foliage of the cottonwoods, which already had +shaken much of their white coat to the ground, reflected it in greens +and golds and russets merged to a note of perfect harmony by the Great +Artist. Though the crispness of early winter was in the air, their +nostrils drew in the fragrance of October, the faint wafted perfume of +dying summer.</p> + +<p>Beneath a sky of perfect blue they pushed along the shoulder of the +hill, avoiding the draw into which snow had drifted deep. Life stormed +in their veins, glowed in their flushed cheeks, rang in the care-free +laughter of at least two of them. Jack broke trail, turning often in the +saddle with a lithe twist of his lean muscular body, to suggest a word +of caution at the bad places. Always then he discovered the deep violet +eyes of Joyce Seldon with their smoldering fire. To let himself dwell +upon her loveliness of fine-textured satiny skin, set off by the +abundant crown of lustrous bronze hair, was to know again a quickened +pulse of delight.<a class="pagenum" name="page_178" id="page_178" title="178"></a></p> + +<p>When he spoke it was with the languid drawl of the Western plainsman. In +humor he feigned to conceal his passion, but Joyce knew him to be +alertly conscious of her every word, every turn of her pliant body.</p> + +<p>They reached the road, where two could ride abreast. Sometimes he was +with the one, again with the other. Moya, who had not much to say this +morning, made it easy for him to be with Joyce. She did not need to be +told that he was under the allure of that young woman's beauty; and not +alone of her beauty, but of that provocative stimulating something that +can be defined only as the drag of sex. All men responded to it when +Joyce chose to exert herself, many when she did not.</p> + +<p>Once he turned to point out to Moya some snow-covered mounds above the +road.</p> + +<p>"Graves of a dozen mule-skinners killed by Indians nearly thirty years +ago. My father was the only one of the party that escaped."</p> + +<p>Half a mile from town they met two men on horseback and exchanged news. +All Goldbanks had been searching for them through the night. The +Farquhar party were wild with anxiety about them.</p> + +<p>Kilmeny gave prompt quiet orders. "Get back to town, boys, and tell Lady +Farquhar that it's all right. We'll be along in a few minutes."</p> + +<p>The news of their safety spread as by magic. Men and women and children +poured into the streets<a class="pagenum" name="page_179" id="page_179" title="179"></a> to welcome them. It was as much as Kilmeny +could do to keep back the cheering mob long enough to reach the hotel. +Verinder, Lady Jim, and India came down the steps to meet them, Captain +Kilmeny and Lord Farquhar both being away at the head of search parties. +India and Lady Farquhar broke down without shame and cried as they +embraced the returned wanderers.</p> + +<p>"We thought ... we thought...." India could not finish in words, but +Moya knew what she meant.</p> + +<p>"It was very nearly that way, dear, but everything is all right now," +her friend smiled through a film of tears.</p> + +<p>"It was Moya saved us—and afterward Mr. Kilmeny," Joyce explained +between sobs.</p> + +<p>The crowd below cheered again and Moya borrowed India's handkerchief to +wave. It touched her to see how glad these people were to know they had +been rescued.</p> + +<p>Lady Farquhar thanked Kilmeny with a gulp in her throat. "We'll want to +hear all about it and to get a chance to thank you properly. Will you +come to dinner this evening? Joyce and Moya should be rested by then."</p> + +<p>Jack accepted promptly. "I'll be very glad to come."</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a class="pagenum" name="page_180" id="page_180" title="180"></a> +<a name="PROVE_IT_PROVE_IT_5019" id="PROVE_IT_PROVE_IT_5019"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XIV</h2> +<h3>"PROVE IT!... PROVE IT!"</h3> +</div> + +<p>Sam Bleyer, superintendent of the big Verinder mines, had been up to see +his chief at the hotel and was passing the private sitting-room of the +Farquhar party when a voice hailed him. He bowed inclusively to Lady +Farquhar, Miss Seldon, and Miss Dwight.</p> + +<p>"You called me?"</p> + +<p>"I did. Are you in a very great hurry?" Joyce flashed her most +coquettish smile at him.</p> + +<p>"You are never to be in a hurry when Miss Seldon wants you, Bleyer," +announced Verinder, following the superintendent into the room.</p> + +<p>Bleyer flushed. He was not "a lady's man," as he would have phrased it, +but there was an arresting loveliness about Joyce that held the eye.</p> + +<p>"You hear my orders, Miss Seldon," he said.</p> + +<p>"Awfully good of you, Mr. Verinder," Joyce acknowledged with a swift +slant smile toward the mine owner. "Just now I want Mr. Bleyer to be an +information bureau."</p> + +<p>"Anything I can do," murmured Bleyer.<a class="pagenum" name="page_181" id="page_181" title="181"></a></p> + +<p>He was a thin little man with a face as wrinkled as a contour map of +South America. Thick glasses rested on a Roman nose in front of +nearsighted eyes. Frequently he peered over these in an ineffective +manner that suggested a lost puppy in search of a friend. But in spite +of his appearance Bleyer was a force in Goldbanks. He knew his business +and gave his whole energies to it.</p> + +<p>"We're all so interested in Mr. Kilmeny. Tell us <i>all</i> about him, +please."</p> + +<p>"That's a rather large order, isn't it?" The wrinkles in his leathery +face broke into a smile. "What in particular do you want to know?"</p> + +<p>"Everything. What does he do? How does he live? How long has he been +here?"</p> + +<p>"He has been around here about five years. He has a lease in a mine." +There was a flinty dryness in the manner of the superintendent that +neither Joyce nor Moya missed.</p> + +<p>"And he makes his living by it?"</p> + +<p>Above his spectacles the eyes of Bleyer gleamed resentfully. "You'll +have to ask Mr. Kilmeny how he makes his living. I don't know."</p> + +<p>"You're keeping something from us. I believe you do know, Mr. Bleyer." +With a swift turn of her supple body Joyce appealed to Verinder. "Make +him tell us, please."</p> + +<p>Moya did not lift the starlike eyes that were so troubled from the face +of Bleyer. She knew the<a class="pagenum" name="page_182" id="page_182" title="182"></a> man implied something discreditable to Kilmeny. +The look that had flashed between him and Verinder told her so much. Red +signals of defiance blazed on both cheeks. Whatever it was, she did not +intend to believe him.</p> + +<p>Verinder disclosed a proper reluctance. "Bleyer says he doesn't know."</p> + +<p>"Oh, he <i>says!</i> I want him to tell what he thinks."</p> + +<p>"You won't like it," the mine owner warned.</p> + +<p>"I'll be the best judge of that." Joyce swung upon Bleyer. "You hear, +sir. You're to tell me what you mean."</p> + +<p>"I don't mean anything." He paused, then looked straight at Joyce with a +visible harshness. "I'll tell you what the common gossip is if you want +to know, Miss Seldon. They say he is a highgrader."</p> + +<p>"And what is a highgrader?" demanded Moya.</p> + +<p>"A highgrader is one who steals rich ore from the mine where he works," +answered Verinder smugly.</p> + +<p>Moya, eyes hot and shining, flashed her challenge at him. "I don't +believe it—not a word of it, so far as Mr. Kilmeny is concerned."</p> + +<p>"Afraid that doesn't change the facts, Miss Dwight. It's a matter of +general knowledge." Beneath Verinder's bland manner there lurked a +substratum of triumph.</p> + +<p>"General fiddlesticks! Don't believe it, Joyce,"<a class="pagenum" name="page_183" id="page_183" title="183"></a> cried Moya stormily. +"He doesn't even work as a miner. He owns his own lease."</p> + +<p>"He used to work in the mines, even if he doesn't now. There are +stories——"</p> + +<p>"Ridiculous to think it of Mr. Kilmeny," exploded Moya. "We've done +nothing but insult him ever since we've known him. First he was a +highwayman. Now he is a thief. Anything else, Mr. Verinder?"</p> + +<p>"Everybody knows it," retorted Verinder sulkily.</p> + +<p>"Then prove it. Put him in prison. Aren't there any laws in the state? +If everybody knows it, why isn't he arrested?" the Irish girl flamed.</p> + +<p>"Moya," chided Lady Farquhar gently.</p> + +<p>Her ward turned upon Lady Jim a flushed face stirred by anger to a vivid +charm. "Can't you see how absurd it is? He owns his own lease. Mr. +Bleyer admits it. Is he robbing himself, then?"</p> + +<p>The muscles stood out on the cheeks of the superintendent like cords. He +stuck doggedly to his guns. "I didn't say he stole the ore himself. The +charge is that he buys it from the men who do take it. His lease is an +excuse. Of course he pretends to get the ore there."</p> + +<p>"It's the common talk of the camp," snapped Verinder contemptuously. +"The man doesn't even keep it under decent cover."</p> + +<p>"Then prove it ... prove it! That ought to be<a class="pagenum" name="page_184" id="page_184" title="184"></a> easy—since everybody +knows it." Moya's voice was low, but her scornful passion lashed the +Englishman as with a whip.</p> + +<p>"By Jove, that's just what I'm going to do. I'm going to put our friend +behind the bars for a few years," the smug little man cried +triumphantly.</p> + +<p>The red spots on Moya's cheeks burned. The flashing eyes of the girl +defied her discarded lover.</p> + +<p>"If you can," she amended with quiet anger.</p> + +<p>The soft laugh of Joyce saved for the moment the situation. "Dear me, +aren't we getting a little excited? Mr. Bleyer, tell me more. How does +a—a highgrader, didn't you call him?—how does he get a chance to steal +the ore?"</p> + +<p>"He picks out the best pieces while he is working—the nuggets that are +going to run a high per cent. of gold—and pockets them. At night he +carries them away."</p> + +<p>"But—haven't you any policemen here? Why don't you stop them and search +them?"</p> + +<p>"The miners' union is too strong. There would be a strike if we tried +it. But it has got to come to that soon. The companies will have to join +hands for a finish fight. They can't have men hoisted up from their work +with a hundred dollars' worth of ore stowed away on them."</p> + +<p>"Is it as bad as that, Mr. Bleyer?" asked Lady Farquhar in surprise.<a class="pagenum" name="page_185" id="page_185" title="185"></a></p> + +<p>"Sometimes they take two or three hundred dollars' worth at once."</p> + +<p>"They don't all steal, do they?" demanded Moya with an edge of sarcasm +in her clear voice.</p> + +<p>Bleyer laughed grimly. "I'd like to know the names of even a few that +don't. I haven't been introduced to them."</p> + +<p>"One hundred per cent. dishonest," murmured Moya without conviction.</p> + +<p>"I don't guarantee the figures, Miss Dwight." The superintendent added +grudgingly: "They don't look at it that way. Bits of highgrade ore are +their perquisite, they pretend to think."</p> + +<p>Verinder broke in. "They say your friend Kilmeny took ore to the value +of two thousand dollars from the Never Quit on one occasion. It ran to +that amount by actual smelter test, the story goes. I've always rather +doubted it."</p> + +<p>"Why—since he is so dishonest?" Moya flung at him.</p> + +<p>"Don't think a man could carry away so much at one time. What d'ye +think, Bleyer?"</p> + +<p>"Depends on how highgrade ore the mine carries. At Cripple Creek we +found nearly four thousand on a man once. He was loaded down like a +freight car—looked like the fat boy in 'Pickwick Papers.'"</p> + +<p>"Should think he'd bulge out with angles where the rock projected," Lady +Farquhar suggested.<a class="pagenum" name="page_186" id="page_186" title="186"></a></p> + +<p>"The men have it down to a system there. We used to search them as they +left work. They carry the ore in all sorts of unexpected places, such as +the shoulder padding of their coats, their mouths, their ears, and in +slings scattered over the body. The ore is pounded so that it does not +bulge."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I'm doing Mr. Kilmeny an injustice, then. Very likely he did +get away with two thousand at one time," Verinder jeered with an +unpleasant laugh.</p> + +<p>"Yes, let's think the worst of everybody that we can, Mr. Verinder," +came Moya's quick scornful retort.</p> + +<p>The Crœsus of Goldbanks stood warming himself with his back to the +grate, as smug and dapper a little man as could be found within a day's +journey.</p> + +<p>"Very good, Miss Dwight. Have it your own way. I'm not a bally prophet, +you know, but I'll go this far. Your little tin hero is riding for a +fall. It's all very well for him to do the romantic and that sort of +piffle, by Jove, but when you scrape the paint off he's just a receiver +of stolen property and a common agitator. Don't take my word for it. Ask +Bleyer." Without looking at him he gave a little jerk of the head toward +his superintendent. "Who is the most undesirable citizen here, Bleyer? +Who makes all the trouble for the companies?"</p> + +<p>Bleyer shook his head. "I can't back my opinion with proof."<a class="pagenum" name="page_187" id="page_187" title="187"></a></p> + +<p>"You know what people say. Whom do the men rely on to back them whenever +they have trouble with us? Out with it."</p> + +<p>"Kilmeny is their king pin—the most influential man in camp."</p> + +<p>"Of course he is. Anybody could tell to look at him that he is a leader. +Does it follow he must be a criminal?" Moya demanded abruptly.</p> + +<p>The superintendent smiled. He understood what was behind that +irritation. "You're a good friend, Miss Dwight."</p> + +<p>"It's absurd that I am. He did nothing for Joyce and me—except fight +for us and see that we were sheltered and fed and brought home safely. +Why shouldn't we sit still and let his reputation be torn to tatters?"</p> + +<p>Blücher bore down upon the field of Waterloo. "Of course we're 'for' Mr. +Kilmeny, as you Yankees say. I don't care whether he is a highgrader or +not. He's a gentleman—and very interesting." Joyce nodded decisively, +tilting a saucy chin toward Verinder. "We're <i>for</i> him, aren't we, +Moya?"</p> + +<p>Lady Farquhar smiled and let her embroidery drop to the table as she +rose. "I like him myself. There's something about him that's very +attractive. I do hope you are wrong, Mr. Bleyer. He does not look like +an anarchist and a thief."</p> + +<p>"That is not the way he would define himself. In this community +highgrading isn't looked on as<a class="pagenum" name="page_188" id="page_188" title="188"></a> theft. Last year our sheriff was +suspected of buying ore from miners and shipping it to the smelters. +Public opinion does not greatly condemn the practice." Bleyer, bowing as +he spoke, excused himself and withdrew.</p> + +<p>Verinder appealed to Lady Farquhar. The indignation of the newly rich +sat heavily upon him. With all his little soul he disliked Jack Kilmeny. +Since the man had done so signal a service for Joyce, jealousy gnawed at +his heart.</p> + +<p>"Of course we've got to be decent to the man, I suppose. He had a big +slice of luck in getting the chance to help Miss Seldon and Miss Dwight. +And I don't forget that he is a cousin to our friends. If it wasn't for +that I'd say to mail him a check and wipe the slate clean. But of +course——"</p> + +<p>"You'd never dare," breathed Moya tensely. "I won't have him insulted."</p> + +<p>"Of course not, under the circumstances. No need to get volcanic, Miss +Dwight. I merely suggested what I'd like to do. Now the burden is off my +shoulders. I have given you the facts."</p> + +<p>"You've given us only suspicions, Mr. Verinder. I don't think it would +be fair to assume them correct," the chaperone answered.</p> + +<p>But Moya knew that Verinder had dropped his seed in fruitful soil. Lady +Farquhar would not forget. Jack Kilmeny's welcome would be something +less than cordial henceforth.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a class="pagenum" name="page_189" id="page_189" title="189"></a> +<a name="A_HIGHGRADERmdashIN_PRINCIPLE_5290" id="A_HIGHGRADERmdashIN_PRINCIPLE_5290"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XV</h2> +<h3>A HIGHGRADER—IN PRINCIPLE</h3> +</div> + +<p>In spite of the warm defense she had made of Kilmeny, the heart of Moya +was troubled. She knew him to be reckless. The boundaries of ethical +conduct were not the same for him as for Lord Farquhar, for instance. He +had told her as much in those summer days by the Gunnison when they were +first adventuring forth to friendship. His views on property and on the +struggle between capital and labor were radical. Could it be that they +carried him as far as this, that he would take ore to which others had +title?</p> + +<p>The strange phase of the situation was that nobody in Goldbanks seemed +to give any consideration to the moral issue. If rumor were true, the +district attorney and a good many of the business men of the town were +engaged in disposing of this ore for the miners on a percentage basis. +Between the miners and the operating companies was war. If a workman +could get the better of the owners by taking ore that was a point to his +credit. Even Verinder and Bleyer at bottom regarded the matter<a class="pagenum" name="page_190" id="page_190" title="190"></a> as a +question of strength and not as one of equity.</p> + +<p>Moya was still in process of thinking herself and life out. It was to +her an amazing thing that a whole community should so lose its sense of +values as to encourage even tacitly what was virtually theft. She did +not want to pass judgment upon Goldbanks, for she distrusted her horizon +as narrow. But surely right was right and wrong wrong. Without a stab of +pain she could not think of Jack Kilmeny as engaged in this illicit +traffic.</p> + +<p>In her heart she was afraid. Bleyer was a man to be trusted, and in +effect he had said that her friend was a highgrader. Even to admit a +doubt hurt her conscience as a disloyalty, but her gropings brought no +certainty of his innocence. It would be in keeping with the man's +character, as she read it, not to let fear of the consequences hold him +from any course upon which he was determined. Had he not once warned her +in his whimsical smiling way that she would have to make "a heap of +allowances" for him if she were to remain his friend? Was it this to +which he had referred when he had told her he was likely to disappoint +her, that a man must live by the code of his fellows and judge right and +wrong by the circumstances? Explicitly he had given her to understand +that his standards of honesty would not square with hers, since he lived +in a rough mining camp where questions<a class="pagenum" name="page_191" id="page_191" title="191"></a> had two sides and were not to be +determined by abstract rule.</p> + +<p>As for Joyce, the charges against Kilmeny did not disturb her in the +least. He might be all they said of him and more; so long as he +interested her that was enough. Just now her head was full of the young +man. In the world of her daydreams many suitors floated nebulously. Past +and present she had been wooed by a sufficient number. But of them all +not one had moved her pulses as this impossible youth of the unmapped +desert West had done. Queer errant impulses tugged at her +well-disciplined mind and stormed the creed of worldliness with which +she had fenced her heart.</p> + +<p>A stroll to view the sunset had been arranged by the young people up +what was known as Son-of-a-Gun Hill. Moya walked of course with Captain +Kilmeny, her betrothed. Joyce saw to it that Verinder was paired with +India, Jack Kilmeny falling to her lot. Since India knew that her escort +was eager to get with Miss Seldon, she punished his impatience by +loitering far behind the others.</p> + +<p>During the past few days Jack had pushed his tentative suit boldly but +lightly. He understood that Joyce was flirting with him, but he divined +that there had been moments when the tide of her emotion had swept the +young woman from her feet. She was a coquette, of course, but when his +eyes fell like a plummet into hers they sounded depths<a class="pagenum" name="page_192" id="page_192" title="192"></a> beneath the +surface foam. At such times the beat of the surf sounded in his blood. +The spell of sex, with all its fire and passion, drew him to this lovely +creature so prodigal of allure.</p> + +<p>The leading couples stood for a moment's breathing space near the +summit. Beneath them the squalid little town huddled in the draw and ran +sprawling up the hillsides. Shaft-houses and dumps disfigured even the +business street.</p> + +<p>Joyce gave a laughing little shudder. "Isn't it a horrid little hole?"</p> + +<p>Jack looked at her in surprise, but it was Moya that answered.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't think so, Joyce. Of course it's not pretty, but—doesn't it +seem to stand for something big and—well, indomitable? Think of all the +miles of tunnels and stopes, of all the work that has gone into making +them." She stopped to laugh at her own enthusiasm before she added: +"Goldbanks stands to me for the hope in the human heart that rises in +spite of everything. It is the product of an idea."</p> + +<p>Miss Seldon gave a little lift to her superb shoulders. "You're +incurably romantic, Moya. It's only a scramble for money, after all."</p> + +<p>"Don't know about that, Miss Seldon," disagreed Captain Kilmeny. "Of +course it's gold they all want. But gold stands for any number of good +things, tangible and abstract—success, you know,<a class="pagenum" name="page_193" id="page_193" title="193"></a> and home, and love, +and kiddies, the better development of the race—all that sort of +thing."</p> + +<p>"Is that what it means to the highgraders too?" Joyce let her smiling +eyes rest with innocent impudence in those of the miner.</p> + +<p>Kilmeny showed no sign of discomfiture. His gaze met hers fully and +steadily. "Something of that sort, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"Just what <i>is</i> a highgrader?"</p> + +<p>Moya held her breath. The debonair lightness of the question could not +rob it of its significance. Nobody but Joyce would have dared such a +home thrust.</p> + +<p>Jack laughed dryly. "A highgrader is a miner who saves the company for +which he works the trouble of having valuable ore smelted."</p> + +<p>"But doesn't the ore belong to the company?"</p> + +<p>"There's a difference of opinion about that. Legally it does, morally it +doesn't—not all of it. The man who risks his life and the support of +his family by working underground is entitled to a share of the profit, +isn't he?"</p> + +<p>"He gets his wages, doesn't he?"</p> + +<p>"Enough to live on—if he doesn't want to live too high. But is that all +he is entitled to? Your friend"—he waved a hand toward Verinder, +puffing up the trail a hundred yards below—"draws millions of dollars +in dividends from the work of these men. What does he do to earn it?"<a class="pagenum" name="page_194" id="page_194" title="194"></a></p> + +<p>"You're a socialist," charged Joyce gayly. "Or is it an anarchist that +believes such dreadful things?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Kilmeny doesn't quite believe all he says," suggested Moya quietly.</p> + +<p>"Don't I?" Behind Jack's quizzical smile there was a hint of +earnestness. "I believe that Dobyans Verinder is a parasite in +Goldbanks. He gobbles up the product of others' toil."</p> + +<p>Joyce flashed at him a swift retort. "Then if you believe that, you +ought to be a highgrader yourself."</p> + +<p>"Joyce," reproved Moya, aghast.</p> + +<p>"I mean, of course, in principle," her friend amended, blushing slightly +at her own audacity.</p> + +<p>Her impudence amused the miner. "Perhaps I am—in principle."</p> + +<p>"But only in principle," she murmured, tilting a radiant challenge at +him.</p> + +<p>"Exactly—in principle," he agreed. There was humor in his saturnine +face.</p> + +<p>Joyce ventured one daring step further. "But of course in practice——"</p> + +<p>"You should have been a lawyer, Miss Seldon," he countered. "If you +were, my reply would be that by advice of counsel I must decline to +answer."</p> + +<p>"Oh, by advice of counsel! Dear me, +that<a class="pagenum" name="page_195" id="page_195" title="195"></a> sounds dreadfully legal, +doesn't it, Moya? Isn't that what criminals say when——?"</p> + +<p>"——When they don't want to give themselves away. I believe it is," he +tossed back with the same lightness. "Before I make confession I shall +want to know whether you are on my side—or Verinder's."</p> + +<p>Under the steady look of his bold, possessive eyes the long silken +lashes fell to the soft cheeks. Joyce understood the unvoiced demand +that lay behind the obvious one. He had thrown down the gage of battle. +Was she for Verinder or for him? If he could have offered her one-half +the advantages of his rival, her answer would not have been in doubt. +But she knew she dared not marry a poor man, no matter how wildly his +presence could set her pulses flying or how great her longing for him. +Not the least intention of any romantic absurdity was in her mind. When +the time came for choice she would go to Verinder and his millions. But +she did not intend to let Jack Kilmeny go yet.</p> + +<p>She lifted to him a face flushed and excited, answering apparently his +words and not his thoughts. "I haven't decided yet. How can I tell till +I hear what you have to say for yourself?"</p> + +<p>"You couldn't find a more charming sister confessor for your sins," the +captain told his cousin.</p> + +<p>"I'll do my best," Joyce promised. Then, with a flash of friendly +malice: "But I haven't had the<a class="pagenum" name="page_196" id="page_196" title="196"></a> experience of Moya. She is just perfect +in the rôle. I know, because she hears all mine."</p> + +<p>Moya flushed resentfully. She did not intend to set up for a prude, but +she certainly did not mean to treat highgrading as if it were a joke. If +Jack Kilmeny was innocent, why did he not indignantly deny the charge?</p> + +<p>"Afraid I'll have to be excused," she said, a little stiffly.</p> + +<p>"Miss Dwight doesn't approve of me," explained the miner. "If I +confessed to her she would probably turn me over to the sheriff."</p> + +<p>The girl's quick eyes flashed into his. "I don't approve of taking ore +that doesn't belong to one—if that's what you mean, Mr. Kilmeny."</p> + +<p>Jack liked the flare of temper in her. She was very human in her +impulses. At bottom, too, he respected the integrity of mind that +refused to compromise with what she thought was wrong.</p> + +<p>But no admission of this showed in his strong brown face. His mordant +eyes mocked her while he went into a whimsical argument to show that +highgrading was really a virtue, since it tended to keep the rich from +growing richer and the poor poorer. He wanted to know by what moral +right Verinder owned the Mollie Gibson and the Never Quit any more than +he did.</p> + +<p>The mine owner, puffing from the exertions of the last bit of ascent, +exclaimed indignantly: "Own<a class="pagenum" name="page_197" id="page_197" title="197"></a> 'em, by Jove! Doesn't a Johnny own what he +buys and pays for?"</p> + +<p>"You don't suppose that when God or Nature or the First Cause created +that ore vein a million years ago he had Dobyans Verinder in mind as the +owner," derided Kilmeny.</p> + +<p>"That's all anarchistic rot, you know. Those mines are my property, at +least a commanding interest. They're mine because I bought the shares. +Government is founded on a respect for property rights."</p> + +<p>"So I've observed," retorted Jack dryly. "I'd back that opinion, too, if +I owned half of Goldbanks."</p> + +<p>"I suppose Mr. Kilmeny's highgrading friends are superior to law. It +isn't necessary for them to abide by the rules society has found best +for its protection," Moya suggested.</p> + +<p>The engaging smile of the accused rested upon Miss Dwight. "I met you +and your friends in a motor car yesterday. I'll bet that speedometer +said twenty-five miles, but the town ordinance puts the speed limit at +fifteen. What about that?"</p> + +<p>"You know that's different. No moral question was involved. But when it +comes to taking what belongs to another—well, a thief is a thief."</p> + +<p>"Right as a rivet, Miss Dwight. But you're begging the question. <i>Does</i> +that ore belong to Dobyans Verinder any more than it does to—well,<a class="pagenum" name="page_198" id="page_198" title="198"></a> to +Jack Kilmeny, say for the sake of argument? I go down there and risk my +life blasting it out. He——"</p> + +<p>"But you don't," interrupted Moya.</p> + +<p>"Not to-day perhaps—or yesterday. But I did last year and the year +before that. I've brought up in my arms the bodies of men torn to pieces +and carried them to their wives and kiddies. How about those women and +children? Haven't they earned an interest in the mine? Isn't their moral +claim greater than that of Mr. Verinder, who sits in London and draws +the dividends?"</p> + +<p>"They are pensioned, aren't they?"</p> + +<p>"They are not," returned Jack curtly. "The mine owners of Goldbanks +don't believe in encouraging negligence. If these workmen hadn't taken +chances they probably would not have been killed, you see. But if they +didn't take chances none of the men could earn a living for their +families. It is plain how very much to blame they are."</p> + +<p>Moya looked across the summits of the hills into the brilliant sunset +that lay like a wonderful canvas in the crotch of the peaks. A troubled +little frown creased her forehead. For the first time there had come +home to her the injustice of the social system under which she and her +friends thrived. No adequate answer came to her. Verinder and Joyce +joined in argument against the young miner, but Moya did not hear what +they said.<a class="pagenum" name="page_199" id="page_199" title="199"></a></p> + +<p>She was unusually silent on the way home. Once she looked up and asked +Captain Kilmeny a question.</p> + +<p>"After all, two wrongs don't make a right, do they?"</p> + +<p>"No, dear girl. Life's full of injustice. I dare say some of the men I +lead are better than Ned Kilmeny, but I've got to forget that and sit +tight in the seat that's been dealt me by the cards. If Jack is trying +to justify highgrading, he hasn't a leg to stand on."</p> + +<p>She sighed. "You don't think, do you, that——?"</p> + +<p>He answered her broken sentence. "Don't know. He doesn't play the game +by the same rules we do, but my judgment is that the gossip about him +has no basis of fact."</p> + +<p>The girl he loved gave him one grateful look and fell again into +silence. She wished she felt more sure. Only that morning she had read +an editorial in one of the local papers warning the men that the +operators were determined to suppress highgrading at any cost, even if +some of the more flagrant offenders had to be sent to the penitentiary. +That such a fate could befall Jack Kilmeny was unthinkable. Yet what +more likely than that the managers should choose him for an example if +they could prove him guilty?</p> + +<p>The dusk had fallen over the hills and the lights<a class="pagenum" name="page_200" id="page_200" title="200"></a> were glimmering out +from the town below through the growing darkness. Captain Kilmeny walked +beside his slim, tall, worshipful sweetheart with a heavy heart. She was +his promised bride. That she would keep faith he did not doubt. But the +progress that he made in winning her love was so little that he seemed +to himself to be marking time. The shadow of his vagabond cousin still +lay between them.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a class="pagenum" name="page_201" id="page_201" title="201"></a> +<a name="ONE_MAIDmdashTWO_MEN_5596" id="ONE_MAIDmdashTWO_MEN_5596"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XVI</h2> +<h3>ONE MAID—TWO MEN</h3> +</div> + +<p>Jack saw to it that he and Joyce followed the others down the trail at a +very leisurely pace. The early night of the Rockies was already cutting +them off from the rest of the world. Captain Kilmeny and his betrothed +could be seen as shadows growing every minute more tenuous. India and +her escort were already lost in the descending darkness.</p> + +<p>It was the first time that the Goldbanks miner had ever been alone with +Miss Seldon. He meant to make the most of his chance. Her loveliness +sang its way through his alert, masterful eyes into the blood of the +man. Where else under heaven could a woman be found with such a glory of +amber extravagance for hair, with such exquisitely turned scarlet lips +in so fine-textured colorless a skin of satin? She moved with the +lightness of perfect health, the long, graceful lines of her limbs +breaking into new curves at every step. Sinuous and supple, she was +exquisitely feminine to the finger tips.</p> + +<p>They talked little, and that irrelevantly. In both<a class="pagenum" name="page_202" id="page_202" title="202"></a> of them the tide of +emotion ran full. Each was drawn by the subtle irresistible magnet of +sex attraction. When their eyes met it was but for an instant. A +shyness, delirious and delightful, ran like a golden thread through the +excitement which burned their blood.</p> + +<p>"We ... must hurry." Joyce breathed deep, as if she had been running.</p> + +<p>"Why must we?" he demanded. "This is my hour. I claim it."</p> + +<p>"But ... they're getting ahead of us."</p> + +<p>"Let them." He gave her his hand to help her down a steep place in the +trail. Their fingers laced, palm clinging to palm.</p> + +<p>"You ... mustn't," she protested.</p> + +<p>"Mustn't I?"</p> + +<p>"No-o."</p> + +<p>The note of faintness was in her voice. Courage flooded him in +triumphant waves. A moment and his arms were about her, the velvet of +her cheek against his. She lay still for an instant, pulses throbbing +wildly. But when his lips found hers the woman in her awoke. In an +ecstasy of tenderness her arms crept around his neck, and she clung to +him. A distant sea surf roared in her ears. For the first time in her +life passion had drowned coquetry.</p> + +<p>They spoke in kisses, in caresses, in little murmured nothings, as +lovers will till the end of time.<a class="pagenum" name="page_203" id="page_203" title="203"></a> Something sweet and turbulent swelled +in her bosom, an emotion new and inexplicable. For the first time in +many experiences of the sex duel she was afraid of herself, of the +strength of this impassioned feeling that was sweeping her. She +disengaged herself from his embrace and stood back.</p> + +<p>Beneath the quick probe of his eyes a faint tremor passed through her +body. The long lashes fell to the hot cheeks and curtained lambent +windows of light.</p> + +<p>"What are we doing?" she cried softly.</p> + +<p>"Doing? I'm making love to you, sweetheart, and you're telling me you +love me for it," he answered, capturing her hands.</p> + +<p>"Yes, but ... I don't want you to ... make love to me ... that way."</p> + +<p>"You do." He laughed aloud, and with a swift motion drew her to him +again. "We belong, you witch."</p> + +<p>His ardent kisses smothered her and drew the color into her lovely face. +She yearned toward him, faint with a sweet, exquisite longing. Was this +love then? Had it at last trapped her in spite of her cool wariness? She +did not know. All she was sure of was that she wanted to be in his +strong arms and to feel forever this champagne leap of the blood.</p> + +<p class='center'>*<span style='letter-spacing:3em;'> </span>*<span style='letter-spacing:3em;'> </span>*<span style='letter-spacing:3em;'> </span>*<span style='letter-spacing:3em;'> </span>*</p> + +<p>With the excuse that she must dress for dinner,<a class="pagenum" name="page_204" id="page_204" title="204"></a> Joyce went at once to +her room and locked the door. Discarding the walking suit she was +wearing, she slipped into a negligee gown and seated herself before the +glass. She liked, while thinking things over, to look at herself in the +mirror. The picture that she saw always evoked pleasant fugitive +memories. It was so now. Never had her beauty seemed so radiant and +vital, so much an inspiration of the spirit in her. Joyce could have +kissed the parted scarlet lips and the glowing pansy eyes reflected back +to her. It was good to be young and lovely, to know that men's hearts +leaped because of her, especially that of the untamed desert son who had +made love to her so masterfully.</p> + +<p>How had he dared? She was a rare imperious queen of hearts. No man +before had ever ravished kisses from her in such turbulent fashion. When +she thought of the abandon with which she had given herself to his lips +and his embrace, the dye deepened on her cheeks. What was this shameless +longing that had carried her to him as one looking down from a high +tower is drawn to throw himself over the edge? He had trampled under +foot the defenses that had availed against many who had a hundred times +his advantages to offer.</p> + +<p>It was of herself, not him, that she was afraid. She had <i>wanted</i> his +kisses. She had rejoiced in that queer, exultant stir of the blood when +his eyes stabbed fathoms deep into hers. What was the<a class="pagenum" name="page_205" id="page_205" title="205"></a> matter with her? +Always she had felt a good-natured contempt for girls who threw away +substantial advantages for what they called love. After steering a +course as steady as a mariner's compass for years was she going to play +the fool at last? Was she going to marry a pauper, a workingman, one +accused of crime, merely because of the ridiculous emotion he excited in +her?</p> + +<p>The idea was of course absurd. The most obvious point of the situation +to her was that she dared not marry him. In her sober senses she would +not want to do such a ruinous thing. Already she was beginning to escape +from the thrill of his physical presence. He had taken the future for +granted, and during that mad quarter of an hour she had let him. Carried +away by his impetuosity and her own desire, she had consented to his +preposterous hopes. But of a certainty the idea was absurd. Joyce Seldon +was the last woman in the world to make a poor man's wife.</p> + +<p>To-morrow she must have a serious talk with him and set the matter on a +proper footing. She must not let herself be swept away by any quixotic +sentiment. The trouble was that she liked him so well. When they met, +her good resolutions would be likely to melt in the air. She would +safeguard herself from her weakness by telling him during a ride that +had been planned. With her friends a<a class="pagenum" name="page_206" id="page_206" title="206"></a> few yards in front of them there +could be no danger of yielding to her febrile foolishness.</p> + +<p>Or perhaps it would be better to wait. It was now only ten days till the +time set for leaving. She might write him her decision. It would be +sweet to hold him as long as she could....</p> + +<p>A knock at the door aroused her from revery. She let Fisher in and made +preparations to have her hair dressed. This was always one of the +important duties of the day. India and Moya might scamp such things on +the plea that they were thousands of miles from civilization, but Joyce +knew what was due her lovely body and saw that the service was paid +rigorously. She chose to wear to-night a black gown that set off +wonderfully the soft beauty of her face and the grace of her figure. +Jack Kilmeny was to be there later for bridge, and before he came she +had to dazzle and placate Verinder, who had been for several days very +sulky at having to play second fiddle.</p> + +<p>When Joyce sailed down the corridor to the parlor which adjoined the +private dining-room of the party, she caught a glimpse of Verinder +turning a corner of the passage toward his room. Lady Farquhar was alone +in the parlor.</p> + +<p>"Didn't I see Mr. Verinder going out?" asked Joyce, sinking indolently +into the easiest chair and reaching for a magazine.</p> + +<p>"Yes. At least he was here." After a moment<a class="pagenum" name="page_207" id="page_207" title="207"></a> Lady Farquhar added +quietly, "He leaves to-morrow."</p> + +<p>Joyce looked up quickly. "Leaves where?"</p> + +<p>"Goldbanks. He is starting for London."</p> + +<p>"But.... What about the reorganization of the companies? I thought...."</p> + +<p>"He has changed his plans. James is to have his proxies and to arrange +the consolidation. Mr. Verinder is anxious to get away at once."</p> + +<p>After an instant's consideration Joyce laughed scornfully. She was +dismayed by this sudden move, but did not intend to show it. "Isn't this +rather ... precipitous? We're all going in a few days. Why can't he +wait?"</p> + +<p>Her chaperone looked at Joyce as she answered. "Urgent business, he +says."</p> + +<p>"Urgent fiddlesticks!" Joyce stifled a manufactured yawn. "I dare say we +bore him as much as he does us. Wish we were all back in grimy old +London."</p> + +<p>"It won't be long now." Lady Jim answered with a smile at the other +suggestion. "No, I don't think business calls him, and I don't think he +is bored."</p> + +<p>Joyce understood the significance of the retort. Verinder at last had +revolted against being played with fast and loose. He was going because +of her violent flirtation with Jack Kilmeny. This was his declaration of +independence.<a class="pagenum" name="page_208" id="page_208" title="208"></a></p> + +<p>Miss Seldon was alarmed. She had not for a minute intended to let the +millionaire escape. The very possibility of it frightened her. It had +not occurred to her that the little man had spirit enough to resent her +course so effectively. With the prospect of losing it in sight, his +great wealth loomed up to dwarf the desire of the hour. She blamed +herself because in the excitement of her affair with Kilmeny she had for +the first time in her life let herself forget real values.</p> + +<p>But Joyce was too cool a hand to waste time in repining so long as there +was a chance to repair the damage. Was the lost prize beyond recovery? +Two points were in her favor. Verinder had not yet gone, and he was very +much infatuated with her. No doubt his vanity was in arms. He would be +shy of any advances. His intention was to beat a retreat in sulky +dignity, and he would not respond to any of the signals which in the +past had always brought him to heel. It all rested on the fortuity of +her getting five minutes alone with him. Granted this, she would have a +chance. There are ways given to women whereby men of his type can be +placated. She would have to flatter him by abasing herself, by throwing +herself upon his mercy. But since this must be done, she was prepared to +pay the price.</p> + +<p>It appeared that Dobyans Verinder did not intend to give her an +opportunity. From the soup<a class="pagenum" name="page_209" id="page_209" title="209"></a> to the walnuts the topic of conversation had +to do with the impending departure of the mine owner. Joyce was prepared +to be very kind to him, but he did not for an instant let his eyes dwell +in hers. Behind the curtain of her dark silken lashes she was alertly +conscious of the man without appearing to be so. He meant to snub her, +to leave without seeing her alone. That was to be her punishment for +having cut too deep into his self-esteem. He was going to jilt her.</p> + +<p>During dinner and during that subsequent half hour while the ladies +waited for the men to rejoin them, Joyce was in a tremor of anxiety. But +she carried herself with an indifference that was superb. She had taken +a chair at the far end of the long parlor close to a French window +opening upon a porch. Apparently she was idly interested in a new novel, +but never had she been more watchful. If she had a chance to play her +hand she would win; if the luck broke against her she would lose.</p> + +<p>Most of her friends had mothers to maneuver for them. Joyce had none, +but she was not one to let that stand in her way. Already she had made +her first move by asking Lord Farquhar in a whisper not to linger long +over the cigars. He had nodded silently, and she knew he would keep his +word. If Jack would only stay away until she could see Verinder....<a class="pagenum" name="page_210" id="page_210" title="210"></a></p> + +<p>She called the mine owner to her the instant that the men reappeared. He +looked across the room sullenly and appeared for one dubious moment to +hesitate. But before he could frame an excuse she had spoken again.</p> + +<p>"I want you to see this ridiculous illustration. It is the most +amusing...."</p> + +<p>Without any hesitation she had summoned him before them all. He could +not rudely refuse her the ordinary civilities that pass current in +society. Sulkily he moved to her side.</p> + +<p>She held up the book to him. No illustration met the eyes of the +surprised man. Joyce was pointing to a sentence in the story heavily +underscored by a pencil.</p> + +<p>"<i>Why are you so cruel to me?</i>"</p> + +<p>His chin dropped with amazement. Then slowly an angry flush rose to his +face. His jaw set firmly as he looked at her.</p> + +<p>"Yes, it's certainly ridiculous ... and amusing," he said aloud.</p> + +<p>"There's another, too," she went on quickly, recovering the book.</p> + +<p>Her fingers turned a page or two swiftly. On the margin was a penciled +note.</p> + +<p>"I must see you alone, Dobyans. I must."</p> + +<p>She lifted to him a face flushed and eager, from which wounded eyes +filmy with tears appealed to him. Her shyness, her diffidence, the +childlike call<a class="pagenum" name="page_211" id="page_211" title="211"></a> upon his chivalry were wholly charming. She was a +distractingly pretty woman, and she had thrown herself upon his mercy. +Verinder began insensibly to soften, but he would not give up his +grievance.</p> + +<p>"It's amusing, too—and unnecessary, I think," he said.</p> + +<p>The long lashes fluttered tremulously to her cheeks. It seemed to him +that she was on the verge of unconsciousness, that the pent emotion was +going to prove too much for her.</p> + +<p>"I—I think the story calls for it," she answered, a little brokenly.</p> + +<p>He retorted, still carrying on the conversation that was to mean one +thing to the others in case they heard and another to them. "Depends on +the point of view, I suppose. The story is plain enough—doesn't need +any more to carry its meaning."</p> + +<p>He was standing between her and the rest of the party. Joyce laid an +appealing hand on his coat sleeve. Tears brimmed over from the soft +eyes. She bit her lip and turned her head away. If ever a woman +confessed love without words Joyce was doing it now. Verinder's +inflammable heart began to quicken.</p> + +<p>"Where?" he asked grudgingly, lowering his voice.</p> + +<p>A glow of triumphant relief swept through her. She had won. But the very +nearness of her defeat tempered pride to an emotion still related to +gratitude.<a class="pagenum" name="page_212" id="page_212" title="212"></a> The warm eyes that met his were alive with thanks. She moved +her head slightly toward the window.</p> + +<p>In another moment they stood outside, alone in the darkness. The night +was chill and she shivered at the change from the warm room. Verinder +stepped back into the parlor, stripped from the piano the small Navajo +rug that draped it, and rejoined Joyce on the porch. He wrapped it about +her shoulders.</p> + +<p>She nodded thanks and led him to the end of the porch. For a few moments +she leaned on the railing and watched the street lights. Then, abruptly, +she shot her question at him.</p> + +<p>"Why are you going away?"</p> + +<p>Stiff as a poker, he made answer. "Business in London, Miss Seldon. +Sorry to leave and all that, but——"</p> + +<p>She cut him off sharply. "I want the truth. What have I done that you +should ... treat me so?"</p> + +<p>Anger stirred in him again. "Did I say you had done anything?"</p> + +<p>"But you think I'm to blame. You know you do."</p> + +<p>"Do I?" His vanity and suspicion made him wary, though he knew she was +trying to win him back. He told himself that he had been made a fool of +long enough.<a class="pagenum" name="page_213" id="page_213" title="213"></a></p> + +<p>"Yes, you do ... and it's all your fault." She broke down and turned +half from him. Deep sobs began to rack her body.</p> + +<p>"I'd like to know how it's my fault," he demanded resentfully. "Am I to +blame because you broke your engagement to walk with me and went with +that thief Kilmeny?"</p> + +<p>"Yes." The word fell from her lips so low that he almost doubted his +ears.</p> + +<p>"What? By Jove, that's rich!"</p> + +<p>Her luminous eyes fell full into his, then dropped. "If ... if you can't +see——"</p> + +<p>"See what? I see you threw me overboard for him. I see you've been +flirting a mile a minute with the beggar and playing fast and loose with +me. I'm hanged if I stand it."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Dobyans! Don't you see? I ... I ... You made me."</p> + +<p>"Made you?"</p> + +<p>She was standing in profile toward him. He could see the quiver of her +lip and the shadows beneath her eyes. Already he felt the lift of the +big wave that was to float him to success.</p> + +<p>"I ... have no mother."</p> + +<p>"Don't take the point."</p> + +<p>She spoke as a troubled child, as if to the breezes of the night. "I +have to be careful. You know how people talk. Could I let them say that +I ...<a class="pagenum" name="page_214" id="page_214" title="214"></a> ran after you?" The last words were almost in a whisper.</p> + +<p>"Do you mean...?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, couldn't you see? How blind men are!"</p> + +<p>The little man, moved to his soul because this proud beauty was so +deeply in love with him, took her in his arms and kissed her.</p> + +<p>A little shudder went through her blood. It had not been two hours since +Jack Kilmeny's kisses had sent a song electrically into her veins. But +she trod down the momentary nausea with the resolute will that had +always been hers. Verinder had paid for the right to caress her. He had +offered his millions for the privilege. She too must pay the price for +what she received.</p> + +<p>"We must go in," she told him presently. "They will wonder."</p> + +<p>"They won't wonder long, by Jove," he replied, a surge of triumph in his +voice.</p> + +<p>Joyce looked at him quickly. "You're not going to tell them to-night?"</p> + +<p>He nodded. "To-night, my beauty."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no. Please not to-night. Let's ... keep it to ourselves for a few +days, dear." The last word was a trifle belated, but that might be +because she was not used to it.</p> + +<p>Verinder shot a look of quick suspicion at her. "I'm going to tell them +to-night—as soon as we get back into the room."<a class="pagenum" name="page_215" id="page_215" title="215"></a></p> + +<p>"But ... surely it's for me to say that, Dobyans. I want to keep our +little secret for awhile." She caught with her hands the lapels of his +dinner jacket and looked pleadingly at him.</p> + +<p>"No—to-night." He had a good deal of the obstinacy characteristic of +many stupid men, but this decision was based on shrewd sense. He held +the upper hand. So long as they were in the neighborhood of Jack Kilmeny +he intended to keep it.</p> + +<p>"Even though I want to wait?"</p> + +<p>"Why do you want to wait?" he demanded sullenly. "Because of that fellow +Kilmeny?"</p> + +<p>She knew that she had gone as far as she dared. "How absurd. Of course +not. Tell them if you like, but—it's the first favor I've asked of you +since——"</p> + +<p>Her voice faltered and broke. It held a note of exquisite pathos. +Verinder felt like a brute, but he did not intend to give way.</p> + +<p>"You haven't any real reason, Joyce."</p> + +<p>"Isn't it a reason that ... I want to keep our engagement just to +ourselves for a few days? It's our secret—yours and mine—and I don't +want everybody staring at us just yet, Dobyans. Don't you understand?"</p> + +<p>"Different here," he answered jauntily. "I want to shout it from the +house-top." He interrupted himself to caress her again and to kiss the +little pink ear that alone was within reach. "I'll make it up<a class="pagenum" name="page_216" id="page_216" title="216"></a> to you a +hundred times, but I'm jolly well set on telling them to-night, dear."</p> + +<p>She gave up with a shrug, not because she wanted to yield but because +she must. Her face was turned away from him, so that he did not see the +steely look in her eyes and the hard set of the mouth. She was thinking +of Jack Kilmeny. What would he say or do when he was told? Surely he +would protect her. He would not give her away. If he were a gentleman, +he couldn't betray a woman. But how far would the code of her world +govern him? He was primeval man. Would the savagery in him break bounds?</p> + +<p>Within five minutes she found out. Jack Kilmeny, in evening dress, was +jesting in animated talk with India when the engaged couple reëntered +the room. He turned, the smile still on his face, to greet Joyce as she +came forward beside Verinder. The little man was strutting pompously +toward Lady Farquhar, the arm of the young woman tucked under his.</p> + +<p>The eyes of Joyce went straight to Kilmeny in appeal for charity. In +them he read both fear and shame, as well as a hint of defiant +justification.</p> + +<p>Even before the mine owner spoke everybody in the room knew what had +happened on the veranda.</p> + +<p>"Congratulate me, Lady Farquhar. Miss Seldon has promised to be my +wife," Verinder sang out chirpily.<a class="pagenum" name="page_217" id="page_217" title="217"></a></p> + +<p>There was a chorus of ejaculations, of excited voices. Joyce disappeared +into the arms of her friends, while Farquhar and Captain Kilmeny shook +hands with the beaming millionaire and congratulated him. Jack's hands +were filled with sheet music, but he nodded across to his successful +rival.</p> + +<p>"You're a lucky man to have won so true a heart, Mr. Verinder," he said +composedly.</p> + +<p>Joyce heard the words and caught the hidden irony. Her heart was in her +throat. Did he mean to tell more?</p> + +<p>Presently it came his turn to wish her joy. Jack looked straight at her. +There was a hard smile on his sardonic face.</p> + +<p>"I believe the right man has won you, Miss Seldon. All marriages aren't +made in Heaven, but—— I've been hoping Mr. Verinder would lose out +because he wasn't good enough for you. But I've changed my mind. He's +just the man for you. Hope you'll always love him as much as you do +now."</p> + +<p>Joyce felt the color beat into her cheeks. She knew now that Kilmeny was +not going to betray her, but she knew too that he understood and +despised her.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a class="pagenum" name="page_218" id="page_218" title="218"></a> +<a name="A_WARNING_6063" id="A_WARNING_6063"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XVII</h2> +<h3>A WARNING</h3> +</div> + +<p>Joyce, a lover of luxury, usually had a roll and coffee in bed as a +substitute for breakfast. Sometimes she varied this by appearing late at +the table and putting the attendants to unnecessary trouble. This she +always paid for with murmurs of apology and sweet smiles of thanks.</p> + +<p>On the second morning after the announcement of her engagement to +Dobyans Verinder she came down to find the dining-room empty except for +the omnibus.</p> + +<p>She opened wide eyes of surprise. "Dear me! Am I late?"</p> + +<p>"Yes'm."</p> + +<p>She glanced at the watch on her wrist. "How inconsiderate of me! I +didn't realize the time. Would you mind calling a waiter?"</p> + +<p>Meanwhile Joyce began on her grape fruit. Almost simultaneously a sound +of voices reached her. Men were coming into the parlor that adjoined the +breakfast room.</p> + +<p>The high-pitched voice of her affianced lover was<a class="pagenum" name="page_219" id="page_219" title="219"></a> the first she +recognized. "——to-night! Sure he said to-night?"</p> + +<p>Joyce judged that the rough tones of the answer came from a workingman. +"That's right. To-night, Bell said. He was to bring his wagon round to +Kilmeny's at eleven and they were going to haul the ore to Utah +Junction."</p> + +<p>A third speaker, evidently Bleyer, the superintendent, cut in quietly. +"Bell said it was to be a big shipment, didn't he?"</p> + +<p>"Yep. Worth sixty or seventy thousand, he figured."</p> + +<p>"Was Bell drunk?"</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't say drunk. He had been drinking a good deal. Talkative like. +He let it out as a secret, y'understand."</p> + +<p>"Anyone there beside you?"</p> + +<p>"A miner by the name of Peale."</p> + +<p>"Know the man?"</p> + +<p>It was Verinder that asked the question and Bleyer that answered.</p> + +<p>"Yes. A bad lot. One of those that insulted the young ladies."</p> + +<p>"Anyhow, he won't warn Kilmeny."</p> + +<p>"Not after the mauling that young man gave him. He's still carrying the +scars," Bleyer replied with a low laugh. He added briskly, after a +moment, "What do you expect to get out of this, Rollins?"<a class="pagenum" name="page_220" id="page_220" title="220"></a></p> + +<p>The workman seemed to answer with some embarrassment. "Thought you might +give me that lease in the Mollie Gibson I spoke to you about, Mr. +Bleyer."</p> + +<p>"It's yours—if this comes out as you say, my man. I'd give more than +that to call the turn on Mr. Highgrader Kilmeny," Verinder promised.</p> + +<p>"And, o' course, you won't give it away that I told."</p> + +<p>"Certainly not."</p> + +<p>The arrival of a waiter eliminated Joyce as a listener, for the first +thing the man did was to close the door between the parlor and the +dining-room.</p> + +<p>But she had heard enough to know that Jack Kilmeny was in danger of +falling into a trap that was being set for him. Verinder had him at +last, just as he had promised that he would get him. No doubt they would +have witnesses and would send him to prison as they had threatened.</p> + +<p>No more than forty-eight hours earlier Joyce would have been on +Kilmeny's side instantly. Now her feelings were mixed. It was still +impossible for her to think of him without a flare of passion. She was +jealous and resentful because she had lost him, but deeper than these +lay the anger born of his scornful surrender of her. It was as if his +eyes for the first time had seen the real woman stripped of the glamour +lent by her beauty. His contemptuous withdrawal from the field had cut<a class="pagenum" name="page_221" id="page_221" title="221"></a> +like a knife thrust. She wanted to pay him with usury for his cool, hard +disdain. And she had the chance. All she had to do was to be silent and +he would fall a victim to his own folly.</p> + +<p>There was a hard glitter in the eyes of the young woman. Perhaps Mr. +Highgrader Kilmeny, as Verinder had called him, would not be so prodigal +of contempt for other people when he stood in the criminal dock. He had +been brutally unkind to her. Was she to blame because he was too poor to +support her properly? He ought to thank her for having the good sense +not to tie herself like a millstone about his neck. They could not live +on love just because for the moment passion had swept them from their +feet. Instead of being angry at her, he should sympathize with her for +being the victim of a pressure which had driven her to a disagreeable +duty.</p> + +<p>Her simmering anger received a fillip from an accidental meeting with +Kilmeny, the first since the night of her engagement. Joyce and Moya +were coming out of a stationer's when they came face to face with the +miner.</p> + +<p>The eyes of the young man visibly hardened. He shook hands with them +both and exchanged the usual inane greetings as to the weather. It was +just as they were parting that he sent his barbed shot into Joyce.</p> + +<p>"I mustn't keep you longer, Miss Seldon. One<a class="pagenum" name="page_222" id="page_222" title="222"></a> can guess how keen you +must be to get back to Verinder. Love's young dream, and that sort of +thing, eh?"</p> + +<p>The jeer that ran through his masked insolence brought the angry color +to the cheeks of Joyce. She bit her lip to keep back tears of vexation, +but it was not until she was in her room with Moya that the need for a +confidant overflowed into speech.</p> + +<p>"Did you ever hear anything so hateful? He made love to me on the +hill.... I let him.... He knows I ... am fond of him. I told him that I +loved him. And now...."</p> + +<p>Moya stared at her in amaze. "Do you mean that you let Mr. Kilmeny make +love to you an hour or two before you became engaged to Mr. Verinder?"</p> + +<p>"For Heaven's sake, don't be a prude, Moya," Joyce snapped irritably. "I +told you I was fond of him, didn't I? How could I help his kissing +me ... or help liking to have him? He ought to be glad. Instead, he +insults me." Miss Seldon's self-pity reached the acute stage of sobs. +"I was in love with him. Why is he so hard?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps he thinks that since he is in love with you and you with him +that gives him some claim," Moya suggested dryly.</p> + +<p>"Of course that's what he thinks. But it's absurd. I'm not going to +marry Dobyans Verinder because I want to. He knows that as well as you<a class="pagenum" name="page_223" id="page_223" title="223"></a> +do. Why does he blame me, then? Goodness knows, it's hard enough to +marry the man without having my friends misunderstand."</p> + +<p>Moya asked an unnecessary question. "Why do you marry him, then?"</p> + +<p>"You know perfectly well," flashed Joyce petulantly. "I'm taking him +because I must."</p> + +<p>"Like a bad-tasting dose of medicine?"</p> + +<p>Her friend nodded. "I <i>can't</i> let him go. I just <i>can't</i>. Jack Kilmeny +ought to see that."</p> + +<p>"Oh, he sees it, but you can't blame him for being bitter."</p> + +<p>At the recollection of his impudence anger flared up in Joyce.</p> + +<p>"Let him be as bitter as he pleases, then. I happen to know something he +would give a good deal to learn. Mr. Jack Kilmeny is going to get into +trouble this very night. They've laid a plot——"</p> + +<p>She stopped, warned by the tense stillness of Moya.</p> + +<p>"Yes?" asked the Irish girl.</p> + +<p>"Oh, well! It doesn't matter."</p> + +<p>"Who has laid a plot?"</p> + +<p>"I've no business to tell. I just happened to overhear something."</p> + +<p>"What did you overhear?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing much."</p> + +<p>"I want to know just what you heard."</p> + +<p>Against the quiet steadfast determination of this<a class="pagenum" name="page_224" id="page_224" title="224"></a> girl Joyce had no +chance. A spirit that did not know defeat inhabited the slender body.</p> + +<p>Bit by bit Moya forced out of her the snatch of conversation she had +overheard while at breakfast.</p> + +<p>"It's a secret. You're not to tell anyone," Joyce protested.</p> + +<p>Her friend drummed on the arm of the chair with the tips of her fingers. +She was greatly troubled at what she had learned. She was a young woman, +singularly stanch to her friends, and certainly she owed something to +Verinder. The whole party were his guests at Goldbanks. He had brought +them in a private car and taken care of them munificently. There were +times when Moya disliked him a good deal, but that would not justify an +act of treachery. If she warned Jack Kilmeny—and Moya did not pretend +to herself for an instant that she was not going to do this—she would +have to make confession to Verinder later. This would be humiliating, +doubly so because she knew the man believed she was in love with the +Goldbanks miner.</p> + +<p>In her heart the Irish girl did not doubt that Jack was guilty, but this +would not prevent her from saving him if she could. There came to her a +swift vision of two helpless girls in a cabin with drinking ruffians, of +the entry of a man into the picture, of his fight against odds to save +her and<a class="pagenum" name="page_225" id="page_225" title="225"></a> Joyce from insult. Beside this abstract justice became a pale +and misty virtue.</p> + +<p>"Of course you'll not tell anyone," Joyce repeated.</p> + +<p>Moya brought her gaze back from the window. "I shall tell Mr. Kilmeny."</p> + +<p>"But it isn't your secret. You have no right to."</p> + +<p>"Have you forgotten that night in the cabin?" asked Moya in a low, clear +voice. "If you have, I haven't."</p> + +<p>"I don't care," Joyce answered petulantly. "He's so hard. Why can't he +be nice about this? Why can't he understand—instead of sneering at me? +It's a good deal harder for me than for him. Think of fifty years of +Dobyans Verinder."</p> + +<p>"Would you care to write Mr. Kilmeny a note? I'll take it to him if you +like," Moya suggested gently.</p> + +<p>Joyce considered. "No, I couldn't put it on paper. But—you might tell +him."</p> + +<p>"I don't think I could quite do that."</p> + +<p>"If it came up right; just show him how I'm placed."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps. Shall I tell him that you asked me to warn him?"</p> + +<p>Joyce nodded, eyes shining. She was a young woman capable of changing +her mind in the snap of a finger. Dainty and exquisite as apple +blossoms, she was like a young plant with delicate tendrils<a class="pagenum" name="page_226" id="page_226" title="226"></a> forever +reaching out. Love she must have and ever more of it. To admiration she +was sensitive in every fiber. Whenever she thought of Jack Kilmeny's +contempt tears scorched her eyes.</p> + +<p>It was like Moya that she carried her warning immediately and directly. +Kilmeny was not easy to find. He had been seen entering the office of a +lawyer, but had left before she arrived. The attorney understood Jack to +say that he was going to an assayer's office, and the young woman +learned there that he had not been seen yet by the assayer. From here +she walked toward his boarding house, thinking that she might catch him +at lunch.</p> + +<p>A quick step on the boardwalk behind her caught the girl's attention. +Almost at the same moment a voice hailed her.</p> + +<p>"Whither away, Miss Dwight?"</p> + +<p>She turned, heart beating fast. "I was looking for you, Mr. Kilmeny."</p> + +<p>"And you've found me. What luck—for Jack Kilmeny!" His friendly +smile—the same one that had claimed comradeship on the Gunnison—beamed +upon her with its hint of irony.</p> + +<p>A miner with a dinner bucket was coming toward them. Moya spoke quickly.</p> + +<p>"I want to see you ... alone. I've something important to tell you."</p> + +<p>His cool eyes searched her face alertly. "Come up with me to the old +Pandora dump."<a class="pagenum" name="page_227" id="page_227" title="227"></a></p> + +<p>They took a side street that ran up the hill, presently came to the end +of it, and stopped at the foot of a trail leading to the abandoned +shaft-house.</p> + +<p>The girl fired her news at him point blank. "Mr. Verinder has found out +what you mean to do to-night and you are to be trapped."</p> + +<p>"What I mean to do?" he repeated.</p> + +<p>"About the ore—shipping it or something. I don't know exactly—somebody +was drinking and talked, I think."</p> + +<p>Moya, watching Kilmeny's face, saw only the slightest change. The eyes +seemed to harden and narrow the least in the world.</p> + +<p>"Tell me all you know about it."</p> + +<p>She repeated what Joyce had overheard, adding that her friend had asked +her to tell him.</p> + +<p>The faintest ironic smile touched his face. "Will you thank Miss Seldon +for me, both for this and many other favors?"</p> + +<p>"You don't understand Joyce. You're not fair to her," Moya said +impulsively.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps not." A sudden warmth kindled in his eyes. "But I know who my +real friends are. I'm fair to them, neighbor."</p> + +<p>The color beat into her face, but she continued loyally. "May +I ... assume you have a kindly interest in Joyce?"</p> + +<p>"I'll listen to anything you care to tell me. I owe my friend, Miss +Dwight, that much."<a class="pagenum" name="page_228" id="page_228" title="228"></a></p> + +<p>"She told me ... a little about you and her. Be fair to her. Remember +how she has been brought up. All her life it has been drilled into her +that she must make a good match. It's a shameful thing. I hate it. +But ... what can a girl like Joyce do?"</p> + +<p>"You justify her?"</p> + +<p>"I understand her. A decision was forced on her. She had no time to +choose. And—if you'll forgive my saying so—I think Joyce did wisely, +since she is what she is."</p> + +<p>"Of course she did," he answered bitterly.</p> + +<p>"Think of her. She doesn't love him, but she sacrifices her feeling to +what she considers her duty."</p> + +<p>"Shall we substitute ambition for duty?"</p> + +<p>"If you like. Her position is not a happy one, but she must smile and be +gay and hide her heartache. You can afford to be generous, Mr. Kilmeny."</p> + +<p>"I've been a fool," he admitted dryly. "The turn that things have taken +is the best possible one for me. But I'm not quite prepared to thank +Miss Seldon yet for having awakened me."</p> + +<p>She saw that his vanity was stung more than his heart. His infatuation +for her had been of the senses. The young woman shifted to another +issue.</p> + +<p>"You'll be careful to-night, won't you?"<a class="pagenum" name="page_229" id="page_229" title="229"></a></p> + +<p>"Very. Mr. Verinder will have to wait for his coup, thanks to you."</p> + +<p>"You mean...?" The question hung fire on her lips.</p> + +<p>"Go on, neighbor."</p> + +<p>"No. It was something I had no business to ask." The cheeks beneath the +dusky eyes held each a patch of color burning through the tan.</p> + +<p>"Then I'll say it for you. You were going to ask if they would really +have caught me with the goods. Wasn't that it?"</p> + +<p>She nodded, looking straight at him with the poise of lithe, slim youth +he knew so well. Her very breathing seemed for the moment suspended +while she waited, tremulous lips apart, for his answer.</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"You mean that ... you are a highgrader?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"I ... was afraid so."</p> + +<p>His eyes would not release her. "You made excuses for Miss Seldon. Can +you find any for me?"</p> + +<p>"You are a man. You are strong. It is different with you."</p> + +<p>"My sin is beyond the pale, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"How do I know? I'm only a girl. I've never seen anything of real life. +Can I judge you?"</p> + +<p>"But you do."</p> + +<p>The troubled virginal sweetness of the girl went<a class="pagenum" name="page_230" id="page_230" title="230"></a> to his soul. She was +his friend, and her heart ached because of his wrongdoing.</p> + +<p>"I can't make myself think wrong is right."</p> + +<p>"You think the profits from these mines should all go to Verinder and +his friends, that none should belong to the men who do the work?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know.... That doesn't seem fair.... But I'm not wise enough to +know how to make that right. The law is the law. I can't go back of +that."</p> + +<p>"Can't you? I can. Who makes the laws?" He asked it almost harshly.</p> + +<p>"The people, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"Nothing of the kind. The operators control the legislatures and put +through whatever bills they please. I went to the legislative assembly +once and we forced through an eight hour law for underground workers. +The state Supreme Court, puppets of capital, declared the statute +unconstitutional. The whole machinery of government is owned by our +masters. What can we do?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know."</p> + +<p>"Neither do I—except what I am doing. It is against the law, all right, +but I try to see that the workmen get some of the profits they earn."</p> + +<p>"Would the operators—what would they do if they proved you guilty of +highgrading?"</p> + +<p>"It is hard to prove. Ore can't easily be identified."<a class="pagenum" name="page_231" id="page_231" title="231"></a></p> + +<p>"But if they did?" she persisted.</p> + +<p>"I'd go over the road quick as their courts could send me." A sardonic +flicker of amusement moved him to add: "Would you obey the Scriptural +injunction and visit me in prison, Miss Dwight?"</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't be here. We're going back to England next week."</p> + +<p>"But if you were. Would your friendship stand the test?"</p> + +<p>Once again she answered, "I don't know," her heart beating wildly as her +glance fell away from his.</p> + +<p>"I shan't have to try you out this time, neighbor. I'm not going to the +pen if I can help it."</p> + +<p>"Are you sure of that? The mine owners are quite determined to punish +some of the highgraders. Suppose I hadn't come to you to-day. What +then?"</p> + +<p>He smiled down upon her with the easy recklessness that distinguished +him. "I don't think it would have run quite to a prison sentence. The +burden of proof lies on the accuser. Because I am in possession of rich +ore, it does not follow that I did not come by it legitimately. Ore +can't be sworn to like bric-a-brac. I may have shipped this in from +South Africa, so far as the law knows. Bleyer knows that. I figure he +would have played his hand in the Goldbanks way."</p> + +<p>"And how would that be?"</p> + +<p>"He would forget the law too, just as we've done<a class="pagenum" name="page_232" id="page_232" title="232"></a> on our side. A posse +of men would have fallen on me maybe after I had got out of town, and +they would have taken that ore from me. They would have been masked so +that I could not swear to them."</p> + +<p>"Why, that is highway robbery."</p> + +<p>He laughed. "We don't use such big words out here, ma'am. Just a +hold-up—a perfectly legitimate one, from Bleyer's viewpoint—and it +would have left me broke."</p> + +<p>"Broke!"</p> + +<p>He nodded. "Dead broke. I've got twenty thousand dollars invested in +that ore—every cent I've got in the world."</p> + +<p>"You paid that to the miners for it?"</p> + +<p>"We pay fifty per cent. of what is coming to the men as soon as a rough +assay is made, the other fifty after we get the smelter returns. That +wagon load of ore is worth—unless I miss my guess badly—about sixty +thousand dollars."</p> + +<p>"Dear me. So much as that?" She could not quite keep a note of sarcasm +out of her voice. "And have you it in a safety deposit vault?"</p> + +<p>His cool gaze took her in quietly. He was willing to bet his last dollar +on her loyalty, and it was like him to back his judgment in one wild +throw. "Not exactly. It is lying in a pile of hay in my barn, all sacked +up ready for shipment."<a class="pagenum" name="page_233" id="page_233" title="233"></a></p> + +<p>"Waiting there for anybody that wants it," she suggested.</p> + +<p>"For anybody that wants it worse than I do," he corrected, the fighting +gleam in his eyes.</p> + +<p>"I've a right to ask one thing of you—that there will be no bloodshed +to-night because of what I have told you."</p> + +<p>"There will be none of my seeking," he replied grimly.</p> + +<p>"No. That's not enough. You must find a way to avoid it."</p> + +<p>"By handing over my hard-earned dishonest profits to the virtuous +Verinder?" he asked dryly.</p> + +<p>"I don't care how. But I won't have on my shoulders ... murder."</p> + +<p>"That's a right hard word, neighbor," he said, falling again into the +Western drawl he sometimes used as a mark of his friendship for her. +"But have it your own way. I'll not even tote a gat."</p> + +<p>"Thank you." She gave him a brisk little nod, suddenly choked up in her +throat, and turned to go.</p> + +<p>Jack fell into step beside her. "Have I lost my little friend—the one +who used to come to me in my dreams and whisper with a lisp that I +wasn't a 'stwanger'?" he asked, very gently.</p> + +<p>She swallowed twice and walked on without looking at him. But every +nerve of her was conscious of his stimulating presence. Since the inner +man found expression in that lithe body with the undulating<a class="pagenum" name="page_234" id="page_234" title="234"></a> flow of +well-packed muscles, in the spare head set so finely on the perfect +shoulders, in the steady eyes so frank and self-reliant, surely he was +not unworthy the friendship of any woman. But he had just confessed +himself a thief. What right had he to ask or she to give so much?</p> + +<p>Her hand went out in an impetuous little gesture of despair. "How do I +know? You are doing wrong, but ... Oh, why do you do such things?"</p> + +<p>"It's in my blood not to let prudence stop me when I've made up my mind +to a thing. My father was that way. I'm trying in a rough way to right +an injustice—and I like the excitement—and I daresay I like the loot +too," he finished with a reckless laugh.</p> + +<p>"I wish I could show you how wrong you are," she cried in a low voice.</p> + +<p>"You can't. I'll go my own way. But you are still going to let me come +and visit you in your dreams, aren't you?"</p> + +<p>The glow in her quick live eyes was not a reflection of the sun. She +felt the color flood her cheeks in waves. She dared not look at him, but +she was poignantly aware that his gaze was fixed on her, that it seemed +to bore to the soul and read the hidden secret there. A queer +lightheadedness affected her. It was as if her body might float away +into space. She loved him. Whatever he was, the man held her heart in +the hollow of his careless,<a class="pagenum" name="page_235" id="page_235" title="235"></a> reckless hand. To him she would always deny +it—or would have if he had thought enough of her to ask—but she knew +the truth about herself from many a passionate hour of despair.</p> + +<p>Dry as a whisper came her answer, in a voice which lacked the +nonchalance she tried to give it. "I daresay I'll be as friendly ... as +you deserve."</p> + +<p>"You've got to be a heap more friendly than that, partner."</p> + +<p>They had come back to the boardwalk which marked the parting of the ways +for them. She had won control of herself again and offered him a steady +hand.</p> + +<p>"I suppose we'll not see each other again.... Good-by."</p> + +<p>He was suddenly conscious that he desired very greatly her regard and +her approval.</p> + +<p>"Is that all you have to say? Are you going to leave me like this?"</p> + +<p>"What more is there to be said?" She asked it quietly, with the calm +courage that had its birth in hopelessness.</p> + +<p>"This much, at least. I don't release you from ... the old tie that used +to bind us. We're still going to be dream friends. I haven't forgotten +little Moya, who kissed me one night on the deck of the <i>Victorian</i>."</p> + +<p>"She was a baby at the time," answered the girl.</p> + +<p>He had not released her hand. Now, as he looked<a class="pagenum" name="page_236" id="page_236" title="236"></a> straight into the sweet +face with eyes like troubled stars, it came to him on a flood of light +that he had made a fatal mistake.</p> + +<p>He dropped her fingers abruptly. "Good-by."</p> + +<p>His crisp footfalls seemed to print themselves on a heart of lead. How +could she know that he carried away with him a vision of sweet youth +that was to endure!</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a class="pagenum" name="page_237" id="page_237" title="237"></a> +<a name="TWO_AMBUSHES_6620" id="TWO_AMBUSHES_6620"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XVIII</h2> +<h3>TWO AMBUSHES</h3> +</div> + +<p>The clock at the new Verinder Building showed ten minutes past eleven as +Jack Kilmeny took the Utah Junction road out of Goldbanks with his +loaded ore wagon. It was a night of scudding clouds, through which +gleamed occasionally a fugitive moon. The mountain road was steep and +narrow, but both the driver and the mules were used to its every turn +and curve. In early days the highgrader had driven a stage along it many +a night when he could not have seen the ears of the bronchos.</p> + +<p>His destination was the Jack Pot, a mine three miles from town, where +intermittently for months he had been raising worthless rock in the hope +of striking the extension of the Mollie Gibson vein. It was not quite +true, as Bleyer had intimated, that his lease was merely a blind to +cover ore thefts, though undoubtedly he used it for that purpose +incidentally.</p> + +<p>Bleyer had guessed shrewdly that Kilmeny would drive out to the Jack +Pot, put up in the deserted<a class="pagenum" name="page_238" id="page_238" title="238"></a> bunk-house till morning, and then haul the +ore down to the junction to ship to the smelter on the presumption that +it had been taken from the leased property. This was exactly what Jack +had intended to do. Apparently his purpose was unchanged. He wound +steadily up the hill trail, keeping the animals at a steady pull, except +for breathing spells. The miner had been a mule skinner in his time, +just as he had tried his hand at a dozen other occupations. In the still +night the crack of his whip sounded clear as a shot when it hissed above +the flanks of the leaders without touching them.</p> + +<p>He ran into the expected ambush a half mile from the mine, at a point +where the road dipped down a wooded slope to a sandy wash.</p> + +<p>"Hands up!" ordered a sharp voice.</p> + +<p>A horseman loomed up in the darkness beside the wagon. A second appeared +from the brush. Other figures emerged dimly from the void.</p> + +<p>Jack gave his mules the whip and the heavy wagon plowed into the deep +sand. Before the wheels had made two revolutions the leaders were +stopped. Other men swarmed up the side of the wagon, dragged the driver +from his seat, and flung him to the ground.</p> + +<p>Even though his face was buried in the sand and two men were spread over +his body, the captive was enjoying himself.<a class="pagenum" name="page_239" id="page_239" title="239"></a></p> + +<p>"This is no way to treat a man's anatomy—most unladylike conduct I ever +saw," he protested.</p> + +<p>He was sharply advised to shut up.</p> + +<p>After the pressure on his neck was a little relieved, Jack twisted round +enough to see that his captors were all masked.</p> + +<p>"What is this game, boys—a hold-up?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes. A hold-up of a hold-up," answered one.</p> + +<p>Three of the men busied themselves moving the ore sacks from his wagon +to another that had been driven out of the brush. A fourth, whom he +judged to be Bleyer, was directing operations, while the fifth menaced +him with a revolver shoved against the small of his back.</p> + +<p>The situation would have been a serious one—if it had not happened to +be amusing instead. Kilmeny wanted to laugh at the bustling energy of +the men, but restrained himself out of respect for what was expected of +him.</p> + +<p>"I'll have the law on you fellows," he threatened, living up to the +situation. "You'd look fine behind the bars, Bleyer."</p> + +<p>"All those sacks transferred yet, Tim?" barked the superintendent.</p> + +<p>"Yep."</p> + +<p>"Good. Hit the trail."</p> + +<p>The wagon passed out of the draw toward Goldbanks. For some minutes the +sound of the wheels grinding against the disintegrated granite of the<a class="pagenum" name="page_240" id="page_240" title="240"></a> +roadbed came back to Jack and the two guards who remained with him.</p> + +<p>"Hope this will be a lesson to you," said the superintendent presently. +"Better take warning. Next time you'll go to the pen sure."</p> + +<p>"Wait till I get you into court, Bleyer."</p> + +<p>"What'll you do there?" jeered the other man. "You'd have a heluvatime +swearing to him and making it stick. You're sewed up tight this time, +Jack."</p> + +<p>"Am I? Bet you a new hat that by this time to-morrow night you fellows +won't be cracking your lips laughing."</p> + +<p>"Take you. Just order the hat left at Goldstein's for the man who calls +for it."</p> + +<p>For an hour by the superintendent's watch Kilmeny was held under guard. +Then, after warning the highgrader not to return to town before +daybreak, the two men mounted and rode swiftly away. Jack was alone with +his mules and his empty wagon.</p> + +<p>He restrained himself no longer. Mirth pealed in rich laughter from his +throat, doubled him up, shook him until he had to hang on to a wagon +wheel for support. At last he wiped tears from his eyes, climbed into +the wagon, and continued on the way to the Jack Pot. At intervals his +whoop of gayety rang out boyishly on the night breeze. Again he whistled +cheerfully. He was in the best of humor<a class="pagenum" name="page_241" id="page_241" title="241"></a> with himself and the world. For +he had played a pretty good joke on Bleyer and Verinder, one they would +appreciate at its full within a day or two. He would have given a good +deal to be present when they made a certain discovery. Would Moya smile +when Verinder told her how the tables had been turned? Or would she +think it merely another instance of his depravity?</p> + +<p>The road wound up and down over scarred hillsides and through gorges +which cut into the range like sword clefts. From one of these it crept +up a stiff slope toward the Jack Pot. One hundred and fifty yards from +the mine Jack drew up to give the mules a rest.</p> + +<p>His lips framed themselves to whistle the first bars of a popular song, +but the sound died stillborn. Sharply through the clear night air rang a +rifle shot.</p> + +<p>Jack did not hear it. A bolt of jagged lightning seared through his +brain. The limp hands of the driver fell away from the reins and he fell +to the ground, crumpling as a dry leaf that is crushed in the palm.</p> + +<p>From the shadow of the bunk-house two men stole into the moonlight +heavily like awkward beasts of prey. They crept stealthily forward, +rifles in hand, never once lifting their eyes from the huddled mass +beside the wagon.<a class="pagenum" name="page_242" id="page_242" title="242"></a></p> + +<p>The first looked stolidly down upon the white face and kicked the body +with his heavy boot.</p> + +<p>"By Goad, Dave, us be quits wi' Jack Kilmeny."</p> + +<p>The other—it was Peale, the Cornish miner—had stepped on a spoke of +the wheel and pulled himself up so that he could look down into the bed +of the wagon. Now he broke out with an oath.</p> + +<p>"The wagon's empty."</p> + +<p>"What!" Trefoyle straightened instantly, then ran to see for himself. +For a moment he could not speak for the rage that surged up in him. "The +dommed robber has made fool of us'n," he cried savagely.</p> + +<p>In their fury they were like barbarians, cursing impotently the man +lying with a white face shining in the moonlight. They had expected to +pay a debt of vengeance and to win a fortune at the same stroke. The +latter they had missed. The disappointment of their loss stripped them +to stark primeval savagery. It was some time before they could exult in +their revenge.</p> + +<p>"He'll interfere wi' us no more—not this side o' hell anyway," Peale +cried.</p> + +<p>"Not he. An' we'll put him in a fine grave where he'll lie safe."</p> + +<p>They threw the body into the wagon and climbed to the seat. Peale drove +along an unused road that deflected from the one running to the Jack +Pot.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a class="pagenum" name="page_243" id="page_243" title="243"></a> +<a name="MR_VERINDER_IS_TREATED_TO_A_SURPRISE_6789" id="MR_VERINDER_IS_TREATED_TO_A_SURPRISE_6789"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XIX</h2> +<h3>MR. VERINDER IS TREATED TO A SURPRISE</h3> +</div> + +<p>The morning after the seizing of the ore Verinder came to breakfast in a +mood so jubilant that he could not long keep to himself the cause of his +exultation. Kilmeny and Farquhar were away on a hunting trip, and none +of the ladies except Moya was yet up. He was especially eager to tell +his news to her, because she had always been such an open defender of +the highgrader. She gave him his opening very promptly, for she was +anxious to know what had occurred.</p> + +<p>"Has some distant connection passed away and left you a fortune, Mr. +Verinder? Or have you merely found a new gold mine since I saw you +last?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"By Jove, you're a good guesser, Miss Dwight. I found a gold mine last +night. Wonder if you could think where."</p> + +<p>Her heart beat faster. "You're so pleased about it I fancy the quartz +must have been sacked up for you ready for the smelter," she said +carelessly.</p> + +<p>Verinder flashed a quick look at her. "Eh, what? How's that?"<a class="pagenum" name="page_244" id="page_244" title="244"></a></p> + +<p>Moya opened her lips to confess what she had done, but the arrival of a +waiter delayed this. Before he had left, Lady Farquhar entered and the +girl's chance was temporarily gone.</p> + +<p>"I was just telling Miss Dwight that we've found another gold mine, Lady +Farquhar—and of all places in the world located in the bed of a wagon."</p> + +<p>"In the bed of a wagon! How could that be?"</p> + +<p>"Fact, 'pon my word! High-grade ore too, we fancy; but we'll know more +about that when we hear from the assayer."</p> + +<p>The matron intercepted the look of triumph—it was almost a jeer—that +the mine owner flung toward Miss Dwight. She did not understand what he +was talking about, but she saw that Moya did.</p> + +<p>"If you'd tell us just what happened we'd be able to congratulate you +more intelligently," the latter suggested, masking her anxiety.</p> + +<p>"Jove, I wish I could—like to tell you the whole story. We pulled off a +ripping surprise on one of your friends. But—the deuce of it is I'm +sworn to secrecy. We played the highgraders' game and stepped a bit +outside the law for once. Let it go at this, that the fellow had to +swallow a big dose of his own medicine."</p> + +<p>Moya pushed one more question home. "Nobody hurt, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"Only his feelings and his pocketbook. But I fancy one highgrader has +learned that Dobyans<a class="pagenum" name="page_245" id="page_245" title="245"></a> Verinder knows his way about a bit, you know."</p> + +<p>The subject filled Moya's thoughts all day. Had Kilmeny after all failed +to take advantage of her warning? Or had his opponents proved too shrewd +for him? From what Verinder had told her she surmised that Jack had +tried to reach the railroad with his ore and been intercepted. But why +had he not changed his plans after her talk with him? Surely he was not +the kind of man to walk like a lamb into a trap baited for him.</p> + +<p>Late in the afternoon Moya, dressed in riding costume, was waiting on +the hotel porch for India and her brother when she saw Verinder coming +down the street. That he was in a sulky ill humor was apparent.</p> + +<p>"Lord Farquhar and Captain Kilmeny came back a couple of hours ago," she +said by way of engaging him in talk.</p> + +<p>"Any luck?" he asked morosely and with obvious indifference.</p> + +<p>"A deer apiece and a bear for the captain."</p> + +<p>"That fellow Kilmeny outwitted us, after all," he broke out abruptly. +"We've been had, by Jove! Must have been what Bleyer calls a plant."</p> + +<p>"I don't understand."</p> + +<p>"The rock we took from him was refuse stuff—not worth a dollar."</p> + +<p>The girl's eyes gleamed. "Your gold mine was salted, then."<a class="pagenum" name="page_246" id="page_246" title="246"></a></p> + +<p>"Not even salted. He had gathered the stuff from some old dump."</p> + +<p>"He must have profited by my warning, after all," Moya said quietly.</p> + +<p>The little man's eyes narrowed. "Eh? How's that? Did you say your +warning?"</p> + +<p>In spite of herself she felt a sense of error at having played the +traitor to her host. "Sorry. I didn't like to do it, but——"</p> + +<p>"What is it you did?" he asked bluntly.</p> + +<p>"I told Mr. Kilmeny that his plan was discovered."</p> + +<p>"You—told him." He subdued his anger for the moment. "If it isn't +asking too much—how did you know anything about it?"</p> + +<p>She felt herself flushing with shame, but she answered lightly enough. +"You shouldn't discuss secrets so near the breakfast-room, Mr. +Verinder."</p> + +<p>"I see. You listened ... and then you ran to your friend, the +highgrader, with the news. That was good of you, Miss Dwight. I +appreciate it—under the circumstances."</p> + +<p>She knew he referred to the fact that she was his guest. To hear him put +into words his interpretation of the thing she had done, with +implications of voice and manner that were hateful, moved her to a +disgust that included both him and herself.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Mr. Verinder—for all the kind things you mean and can't +say."<a class="pagenum" name="page_247" id="page_247" title="247"></a></p> + +<p>She turned on her heel and walked to the end of the veranda. After a +moment's thought he followed her.</p> + +<p>"Have I said a word too much, Miss Dwight? You did listen to a private +conversation you weren't meant to hear, didn't you? And you ran to your +friend with it? If I'm wrong, please correct me."</p> + +<p>"I daresay you're right. We'll let it go at that, if you please."</p> + +<p>Verinder was irritated. Clearly in the right, he had allowed her to put +him in the wrong.</p> + +<p>"I'll withdraw listened, Miss Dwight. Shall we substitute overheard?"</p> + +<p>Her angry eyes flashed into his cold, hard ones. "What would you expect +me to do? You know what he did for Joyce and me. And he is Captain +Kilmeny's cousin. Could I let him go to prison without giving even a +warning?"</p> + +<p>"Evidently not. So you sacrifice me for him."</p> + +<p>"You think I wasn't justified?"</p> + +<p>"You'll have to settle that with your conscience," he said coldly. +"Don't think <i>I</i> would have been justified in your place."</p> + +<p>"You would have let him go to prison—the man who had fought for you +against odds?"</p> + +<p>"Does that alter the fact that he is a thief?" Verinder demanded +angrily.</p> + +<p>"It alters my relation to the fact—and it ought to alter yours. He did +a great service to the woman<a class="pagenum" name="page_248" id="page_248" title="248"></a> you are engaged to marry. Does that mean +nothing to you?"</p> + +<p>"The fellow was playing off his own bat, wasn't he? I don't see I owe +him anything," the mine owner sulkily answered. "Truth is, I'm about fed +up with him. He's a bad lot. That's the long and short of him. I don't +deny he's a well-plucked daredevil. What of it? This town is full of +them. There was no question of his going to prison. I intended only to +get back some of the ore he and his friends have stolen from me."</p> + +<p>"I didn't know that."</p> + +<p>"Would it have made any difference if you had?"</p> + +<p>She considered. "I'm not sure."</p> + +<p>Captain Kilmeny and India emerged from the hotel and bore down upon +them.</p> + +<p>"All ready, Moya," cried India.</p> + +<p>"Ready here." Moya knew that it must be plain to both Captain Kilmeny +and his sister that they had interrupted a disagreement of some sort. +Characteristically, she took the bull by the horns. "Mr. Verinder and I +are through quarreling. At least I'm through. Are you?" she asked the +mine owner with a laugh.</p> + +<p>"Didn't know I'd been quarreling, Miss Dwight," Verinder replied +stiffly.</p> + +<p>"You haven't. I've been doing it all." She turned lightly to her +betrothed. "They didn't send<a class="pagenum" name="page_249" id="page_249" title="249"></a> up the pinto, Ned. Hope he hasn't really +gone lame."</p> + +<p>Verinder had been put out of the picture. He turned and walked into the +lobby of the hotel, suddenly resolved to make a complaint to Lady +Farquhar about the way Moya Dwight had interfered with his plans. He +would show that young lady whether she could treat him so outrageously +without getting the wigging she deserved.</p> + +<p>Lady Farquhar listened with a contempt she was careful to veil. It was +not according to the code that a man should run with the tale of his +injuries to a young woman's chaperon. Yet she sympathized with him even +while she defended Moya. No doubt if Captain Kilmeny had been at hand +his fiancée would have taken the matter to him for decision. In his +absence she had probably felt that it was incumbent on her to save his +cousin from trouble.</p> + +<p>The mine owner received Lady Farquhar's explanations in skeptical +silence. In his opinion, Moya's interest in Jack Kilmeny had nothing to +do with the relationship between that scamp and the captain. He would +have liked to say so flatly, but he felt it safer to let his manner +convey the innuendo. In her heart Lady Farquhar was of the same belief. +She resolved to have a serious talk with Moya before night.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a class="pagenum" name="page_250" id="page_250" title="250"></a> +<a name="COLTER_TAKES_A_HAND_6999" id="COLTER_TAKES_A_HAND_6999"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XX</h2> +<h3>COLTER TAKES A HAND</h3> +</div> + +<p>Moya combed her long rippling hair while Lady Farquhar laid down the law +that hedges a young woman from the satisfaction of her generous +impulses. For the most part the girl listened in silence, a flush +burning through each of her dusky cheeks. There was nothing to be said +that would avail. She might defend the thing she had done, but not the +feelings that had inspired her action.</p> + +<p>"It is all very well to be independent within limits, my dear, but young +women of our class are subject to the penalties that go with our +privileges. When I was a girl I rebelled but had to obey. So must you." +Lady Farquhar interrupted herself to admire the vivid rebel she was +admonishing. "What wonderful hair you have—so long and thick and wavy. +It must take a great deal of care."</p> + +<p>"Yes," Moya admitted absently.</p> + +<p>She did not resent the rebuke Lady Jim had come to give her while she +was undressing. No doubt she deserved it. She had been unmaidenly, and +all for love of this light-hearted vagabond who did<a class="pagenum" name="page_251" id="page_251" title="251"></a> not care the turn +of a hand for her. All day her thoughts had been in chaotic ferment. At +times she lashed herself with the whip of her own scorn because she +cared for a self-confessed thief, for a man who lived outside the law +and was not ashamed of it. Again it was the knowledge of her unwanted +love that flayed her, or of the injustice to her betrothed in so +passionate a feeling for another man. With all her strong young will she +fought against this devouring flame that possessed her—and she knew +that she fought in vain.</p> + +<p>In the shipwreck of her self-respect she clung to one spar. Soon they +would be on their way back to that well-ordered world where she would be +entirely in the groove of convention. Her engagement to Captain Kilmeny +would be announced. Surely among the many distractions of London she +would forget this debonair scamp who had bewitched her.</p> + +<p>"You should have come to me—or to India for that matter. She is his +cousin and is in a different position from you. Don't you see that, my +dear?" Lady Farquhar asked gently.</p> + +<p>And again Moya said "Yes" wearily.</p> + +<p>"James and I understand you—how impulsive you are—and how generous. +But Mr. Kilmeny—and Mr. Verinder—what do you suppose they think?"</p> + +<p>"I don't care what Mr. Verinder thinks." And<a class="pagenum" name="page_252" id="page_252" title="252"></a> Moya began to coil her +hair loosely for the night.</p> + +<p>"But that's just it—a girl <i>must</i> care. She can't afford to allow +anyone an opportunity to think unpleasant things about her. She has to +guard her reputation very jealously."</p> + +<p>"And I suppose I've been playing ducks and drakes with mine," Moya said, +pushing home a hairpin.</p> + +<p>"I don't say that, dear. What I say is that Mr. Kilmeny may +misunderstand your interest in him."</p> + +<p>"He may think I'm in love with him. Is that it?" flashed the girl.</p> + +<p>"He might. Give a man's vanity the least chance and——"</p> + +<p>A reckless impulse to hurt herself—the same which leads a man to grind +on an aching tooth in heady rage—swept Moya like a flame.</p> + +<p>"Then he would think the truth," she interrupted. "What's the use of +denying it? I ... I'm in love with him."</p> + +<p>"Moya." Lady Farquhar's protest came in a horrified gasp.</p> + +<p>The young woman turned her slim body in the chair with supple grace so +as to face her chaperon. Beneath the dark eyes spots of color burned +through the tan.</p> + +<p>"It's true. I've cared ... ever since we met him."</p> + +<p>"And he—has he ever made love to you?"<a class="pagenum" name="page_253" id="page_253" title="253"></a></p> + +<p>"Never. He's thought only of Joyce. That's what makes it more +shameless."</p> + +<p>Lady Farquhar took a moment to absorb the unwelcome news. "I never +dreamed it was as bad as this. Of course I knew he interested you a good +deal, but——"</p> + +<p>Moya could not keep scorn of herself out of her voice. "But you didn't +think I was so lost to decency as to throw myself at his head. You see I +am."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense," cut in her chaperon with sharp common sense. "You're not the +first girl that has fancied a man who won't do. It's imagination—a good +deal of it. Make yourself forget him. That's all you can do."</p> + +<p>"I can't do that. I've tried," confessed Moya miserably.</p> + +<p>"Then try again—and again—and still again. Remember that you are +engaged to a man worth a dozen of him. Call your pride to help you."</p> + +<p>"It seems that I have none. I've told myself forty times that he's a +highgrader and that doesn't help."</p> + +<p>Her friend was alarmed. "You don't mean that you would marry a man who +is a—a man who steals ore."</p> + +<p>"No. I wouldn't marry him ... even if he wanted me—which he doesn't. I +haven't fallen that far."<a class="pagenum" name="page_254" id="page_254" title="254"></a></p> + +<p>"Glad to hear you say that," answered Lady Farquhar with a sigh of +relief. She took the girl in her arms and patted one of the shoulders +over which the hair cascaded. "My dear, it's hard. You're intense and +emotional. But you've got to—to buck up, as James says. You're +brave—and you're strong-willed. Make a winning fight."</p> + +<p>"What about ... Ned?"</p> + +<p>"Does he suspect?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. Sometimes I think he does. But you know how generous he +is. He never says anything, or avoids the subject of his cousin in any +way." She added, after an instant: "Ned knows that I don't ... love +him—that is, in one way. He says he is ready to wait till that comes."</p> + +<p>"Ned Kilmeny is a man out of a million."</p> + +<p>Moya nodded. "Yes. That's why this is so unfair to him. What ought I to +do? Shall I break the engagement? That's what I want to do, but it will +hurt him a good deal."</p> + +<p>"Wait. Give yourself and him a chance. In a few days we'll be started +home."</p> + +<p>"That's what I've been telling myself. Everything here reminds me +of—<i>him</i>. It will be different then, I try to think. But—down in my +heart I don't think it will."</p> + +<p>"And I know it will," the matron told her promptly. "Time, my dear, +heals all our woes. Youth has great recuperative power. In a year you<a class="pagenum" name="page_255" id="page_255" title="255"></a> +will wonder how he ever cast such a spell over you."</p> + +<p>Moya heard the last belated reveler pass down the corridor to his room +before she fell asleep. When she awoke it was to see a long shaft of +early sunshine across the bed.</p> + +<p>She rose, took her bath, and dressed for walking. Her desire drew the +steps of the young woman away from the busy street toward the suburb. +She walked, as always, with the elastic resilience of unfettered youth. +But the weight that had been at her heart for two days—since she had +learned from Jack Kilmeny's lips that he was a highgrader—was still +tied there too securely to be shaken away by the wonder of the glorious +newborn day.</p> + +<p>Returning to the hotel, she met a man on the porch whose face stirred +instantly a fugitive memory. He came to her at once, a big +leather-skinned man with the weatherbeaten look of the West.</p> + +<p>"Aren't you the Miss Dwight I've heard Jack Kilmeny mention?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. This is Mr. Colter, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>He nodded, watching her with hard narrowed eyes. "Something's wrong. Can +you tell me what it is? Jack's mules—two of them, anyhow—came back to +the barn during the night with bits of broken harness still attached to +them. Looks like there had been a runaway and the wagon had come to +grief. The keeper of the livery stable says Bell<a class="pagenum" name="page_256" id="page_256" title="256"></a> took the wagon around +to Jack's place and left it with him. He was seen driving out of town +soon after. He has not been seen since."</p> + +<p>Her heart flew to alarm. "You mean ... you think he has been hurt?"</p> + +<p>"Don't know. He's not in town. That's a cinch. I've raked Goldbanks with +a toothcomb. Where is he?"</p> + +<p>"Couldn't he be at his mine?"</p> + +<p>"I sent a boy out there. He's not at the Jack Pot."</p> + +<p>"What is it that you think? Tell me," she cried softly.</p> + +<p>"You're his friend, aren't you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"There's some talk around town that he was held up by Bleyer. I came up +here to see him or Verinder. Foul play of some kind, that's my guess."</p> + +<p>"But—you surely don't think that Mr. Bleyer or Mr. Verinder would ... +hurt him."</p> + +<p>The look of dogged resolution on the man's granite face did not soften. +"They'll have to show me—and by God! if they did——"</p> + +<p>Her mind flew with consternation to the attack upon Kilmeny that had +been made by Bleyer. But Verinder had told her nobody had been hurt. +Could they have taken the highgrader prisoner? Were they holding him for +some purpose?<a class="pagenum" name="page_257" id="page_257" title="257"></a></p> + +<p>"Mr. Verinder gets up about this time usually," she said.</p> + +<p>"I'm waiting for him. He said he would be down at once."</p> + +<p>"Will you tell me anything you find out, please? I'll be on the veranda +upstairs."</p> + +<p>Colter joined her a quarter of an hour later. "I saw both Bleyer and +Verinder. They've got something up their sleeve, but I don't think they +know where Jack is or what has become of him. They pretended to think I +was trying to put one over on them."</p> + +<p>"What will you do now?"</p> + +<p>"I'll go out to the Jack Pot myself. I've reason to believe he intended +to go there."</p> + +<p>"If you find out anything——"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I'll let you know."</p> + +<p>Moya went directly from Colter to Bleyer. The superintendent entered a +curt denial to her implied charge.</p> + +<p>"Miss Dwight, I don't know what you do or do not know. I see someone has +been blabbing. But I'll just say this. When I last saw Jack Kilmeny he +was as sound as I am this minute. I haven't the least idea where he is. +You don't need to worry about him at all. When he wants to turn up he'll +be on deck right side up. Don't ask me what his play is, for I don't +know. It may be to get me and<a class="pagenum" name="page_258" id="page_258" title="258"></a> Verinder in bad with the miners. Just be +sure of one thing: he's grandstanding."</p> + +<p>She was amazingly relieved. "I'm so glad. I thought perhaps——"</p> + +<p>"——that Mr. Verinder and I had murdered him. Thanks for your good +opinion of us, but really we didn't," he retorted in his dryest manner.</p> + +<p>She laughed. "I did think perhaps you knew where he was."</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't—and I don't want to," he snapped. "The less I see of him +the better I'll be satisfied."</p> + +<p>The superintendent of the Verinder properties had found a note addressed +to him in one of the sacks of quartz taken from Kilmeny. The message, +genial to the point of impudence, had hoped he had enjoyed his little +experience as a hold-up. To Bleyer, always a serious-minded man, this +levity had added insult to injury. Just now the very mention of the +highgrader's name was a red rag to his temper. It was bad enough to be +bested without being jeered at by the man who had set a trap for him.</p> + +<p>It was well on toward evening before Colter paid his promised visit to +Miss Dwight. She found him waiting for her upon her return from a ride +with Captain Kilmeny, Verinder, and Joyce.</p> + +<p>Moya, as soon as she had dismounted, walked straight to him.</p> + +<p>"What have you found out, Mr. Colter?"<a class="pagenum" name="page_259" id="page_259" title="259"></a></p> + +<p>"Not much. It rained during the night and wiped out the tracks of wagon +wheels. Don't know how far Jack got or where he went, but the remains of +the wagon are lying at the bottom of a gulch about two miles from the +Jack Pot."</p> + +<p>"How did it get there?"</p> + +<p>"I wish you could tell me that. Couldn't have been a runaway or the +mules would have gone over the edge of the road too." He stepped forward +quickly as Verinder was about to pass into the hotel. "I want to have a +talk with you."</p> + +<p>The little man adjusted his monocle. "Ye-es. What about, my man?"</p> + +<p>"About Jack Kilmeny. Where is he? What do you know? I'm going to find +out if I have to tear it from your throat."</p> + +<p>Verinder was no coward, but he was a product of our modern +super-civilization. He glanced around hastily. The captain had followed +Joyce into the lobby. Moya and he were alone on the piazza, with this +big savage who looked quite capable of carrying out his threat.</p> + +<p>"Don't talk demned nonsense," the mine owner retorted, flushing angrily.</p> + +<p>Colter did not answer in words. The strong muscular fingers of his left +hand closed on the right arm of Verinder just below the shoulder with a +pressure excruciatingly painful. Dobyans found himself moving +automatically toward the end of the<a class="pagenum" name="page_260" id="page_260" title="260"></a> porch. He had to clench his teeth +to keep from crying out.</p> + +<p>"Let me alone, you brute," he gasped.</p> + +<p>Colter paid no attention until his victim was backed against the rail in +a corner. Then he released the millionaire he was manhandling.</p> + +<p>"You're going to tell me everything you know. Get that into your head. +Or, by God, I'll wring your neck for you."</p> + +<p>The Englishman had never before been confronted with such a situation. +He was a citizen of a country where wealth hedges a man from such +assaults. The color ebbed from his face, then came back with a rush.</p> + +<p>"Go to the devil, you big bully," he flung out sharply.</p> + +<p>Moya, taken by surprise at Colter's abrupt desertion of her, had watched +with amazement the subsequent flare-up. Now she crossed the porch toward +them.</p> + +<p>"What are you doing, Mr. Colter?"</p> + +<p>"None of your funeral, ma'am," the miner answered bluntly, not for a +moment lifting his hard eyes from Verinder. "Better unload what you +know. I've had a talk with Quint Saladay. I know all he knows, that +Bleyer and you and him with two other lads held up Jack and took his ore +away. The three of them left you and Bleyer guarding Jack. What did you +do with him?"<a class="pagenum" name="page_261" id="page_261" title="261"></a></p> + +<p>"It's a bally lie. I didn't stay with Bleyer to guard him."</p> + +<p>"That's right. You didn't. You came back with the others. But you know +what Bleyer did. Out with it."</p> + +<p>"I don't admit a word of what you say," said Verinder doggedly.</p> + +<p>Colter had trapped him into a half admission, but he did not intend to +say any more.</p> + +<p>Moya spoke, a little timidly. "Wait a minute please, Mr. Colter. Let me +talk with Mr. Verinder alone. I think he'll tell me what you want to +know."</p> + +<p>Jack's friend looked at her with sharp suspicion. Was she trying to make +a dupe of him? Her candid glance denied it.</p> + +<p>"All right. Talk to him all you like, but you'll do your talking here," +he agreed curtly before he turned on his heel and walked away a few +steps.</p> + +<p>"You must tell him what he wants to know, Mr. Verinder," urged the young +woman in a low voice. "Something has happened to his friend. We must +help clear it up."</p> + +<p>"I'm not responsible for what has happened to his friend. What do you +want me to do? Peach on Bleyer, is that it?"</p> + +<p>"No. Send for him and tell Mr. Colter the truth."<a class="pagenum" name="page_262" id="page_262" title="262"></a></p> + +<p>"I'll see him hanged and quartered first," he replied angrily.</p> + +<p>"If you don't, I'll tell what I know. There's a life at stake," Moya +cried, a trace of agitation in her voice.</p> + +<p>"Fiddlesticks!" he shrugged. "The fellow's full of tricks. He worked one +on us the other night. I'm hanged if I let him play me again."</p> + +<p>"You must. I'll tell Captain Kilmeny and Lord Farquhar. I'll not let it +rest this way. The matter is serious."</p> + +<p>"I'm not going to be bullied into saying a word. That's the long and +short of it," he repeated in disgust. "Let Bleyer tell the fellow if he +wants to. I'll have nothing to do with it. We're not responsible for +what has happened—if anything has."</p> + +<p>"Then I'll go and get Mr. Bleyer."</p> + +<p>"Just as you please. I'd see this ruffian at Halifax first, if you ask +<i>me</i>." The angry color flushed his face again as he thought of the +insult to which he had been subjected.</p> + +<p>To Colter Moya explained her purpose. He nodded agreement without words.</p> + +<p>After two or three attempts she got the superintendent on the telephone +at the Mollie Gibson mine and arranged with him that he was to come to +the hotel at once. A few minutes later he drove up in his car.<a class="pagenum" name="page_263" id="page_263" title="263"></a></p> + +<p>Moya put the case to him.</p> + +<p>Bleyer turned to his employer. "You want me to tell Colter what I know?"</p> + +<p>"I don't care a turn of my hand whether you tell the fellow or not," +drawled Verinder, ignoring the presence of Colter.</p> + +<p>The superintendent peered at Moya in his nearsighted fashion over the +glasses on his nose. "Can't see that it matters much, Miss Dwight. I'm +not worrying a bit about Jack Kilmeny, but, if Colter and you are, I'm +willing to tell what I know on condition that you keep the facts to +yourselves."</p> + +<p>"I'll keep quiet if you haven't injured Jack in any way," Colter +amended.</p> + +<p>"We haven't. He was sound as a new dollar when I left him Tuesday night. +Want to hear the particulars?"</p> + +<p>"That's what I'm here for," snapped Colter.</p> + +<p>Bleyer told the whole story so far as he knew it.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a class="pagenum" name="page_264" id="page_264" title="264"></a> +<a name="SPIRIT_RAPPING_7400" id="SPIRIT_RAPPING_7400"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXI</h2> +<h3>SPIRIT RAPPING?</h3> +</div> + +<p>Farquhar and Captain Kilmeny left next day for another short hunting +trip. The captain had offered to give it up, but Moya had urged upon him +that it would not be fair to disappoint his companion. He had gone +reluctantly, because he saw that his fiancée was worried. His own +opinion was that his cousin Jack had disappeared for reasons of his own.</p> + +<p>Colter did not relax in his search. But as the days passed hope almost +died within him. Jack had plenty of enemies, as an aggressive fighter in +a new country always must have. His friend's fear was that some of them +had decoyed Kilmeny to his death. The suspicions of the miner centered +upon Peale and Trefoyle, both because Jack had so recently had trouble +with them and because they knew beforehand of his intention to remove +the ore. But he could find no evidence upon which to base his feeling, +though he and Curly, in company with a deputy sheriff, had put the +Cornishmen through a grilling examination.</p> + +<p>It had been understood that the young women<a class="pagenum" name="page_265" id="page_265" title="265"></a> should take a trip through +the Never Quit before they left Goldbanks, but for one reason or another +this had been postponed until after the captain and Farquhar had started +on their final hunting expedition. The second afternoon after their +departure was the one decided upon for the little adventure.</p> + +<p>Verinder, with the extravagance that went hand in hand with an +occasional astonishing parsimony, had ordered oilskin suits and +waterproof boots made especially for his guests. A room was reserved for +the young ladies at the mine, equipped for this one occasion to serve as +a boudoir where they might dress in comfort.</p> + +<p>The mine owner's guests donned, with a good deal of hilarious merriment, +the short skirts, the boots, and the rubber helmets. The costumes could +not have been called becoming, but they were eminently suited for the +wet damp tunnels of the Never Quit.</p> + +<p>After they had entered the cage it was a little terrifying to be shot so +rapidly down into the blackness of the mine.</p> + +<p>"Don't be afraid. It's quite safe," Bleyer told them cheerfully.</p> + +<p>At the tenth level the elevator stopped and they emerged into an open +space.</p> + +<p>"We're going to follow this drift," explained the superintendent.</p> + +<p>They seated themselves in ore cars and were wheeled into a cavern +lighted at intervals by electric<a class="pagenum" name="page_266" id="page_266" title="266"></a> bulbs. Presently the cars slowed down +and the occupants descended.</p> + +<p>"This way," ordered Bleyer.</p> + +<p>They followed in single file into a hot, damp tunnel, which dripped +moisture in big drops from the roof upon a rough, uneven floor of stone +and dirt where pools of water had occasionally gathered. The darkness +increased as they moved forward, driven back by the candles of the men +for a space scarce farther than they could reach with outstretched +hands.</p> + +<p>Moya, bringing up the rear, could hear Bleyer explain the workings to +those at his heel. He talked of stopes, drifts, tunnels, wage scales, +shifts, highgrade ore, and other subjects that were as Greek to Joyce +and India. The atmosphere was oppressively close and warm, and the +oilskins that Moya wore seemed to weigh heavily upon her. She became +aware with some annoyance at herself that a faintness was stealing over +her brain and a mistiness over her eyes. To steady herself she stopped, +catching at the rough wall for support. The others, unaware that she was +not following, moved on. With a half articulate little cry she sank to +the ground.</p> + +<p>When she came to herself the lights had disappeared. She was alone in +the most profound darkness she had ever known. It seemed to press upon +her so ponderably as almost to be tangible. The girl was frightened. Her +imagination began to<a class="pagenum" name="page_267" id="page_267" title="267"></a> conjure all sorts of dangers. Of cave-ins and +explosions she had heard and read a good deal. Anything was possible in +this thousand-foot deep grave. In a frightened, ineffective little voice +she cried out to her friends.</p> + +<p>Instantly there came an answer—a faint tapping on the wall almost at +her ear. She listened breathlessly, and caught again that faint far +tap—tap—tap—tap—tap—tap—tap. Instinctively her hand went out, +groping along the wall until it fell upon a pipe. Even as she touched +this the sound came again, and along with it the faintest of vibrations. +She knew that somebody at a distance was hitting the pipe with a piece +of quartz or metal.</p> + +<p>Stooping, she found a bit of broken rock. Three times she tapped the +pipe. An answer came at once.</p> + +<p>Tap—tap—tap—tap—tap—tap—tap!</p> + +<p>She tried two knocks. Again the response of seven taps sounded. Four +blows brought still seven. Why always seven? She did not know, but she +was greatly comforted to know that her friends were in communication +with her. After all she was not alone.</p> + +<p>A light glimmered at the end of the tunnel and moved slowly toward her. +Bleyer's voice called her name. Presently the whole party was about her +with sympathetic questions and explanations.</p> + +<p>She made light of her fainting attack, but Verinder<a class="pagenum" name="page_268" id="page_268" title="268"></a> insisted on getting +her back to the upper air in spite of her protests. He had discovered +that Joyce was quite ready to return to the sunlight, now that her +curiosity was satisfied. A very little of anything that was unpleasant +went a long way with Miss Seldon, and there was something about this +underground tomb that reminded her strongly of an immense grave.</p> + +<p>At dinner Verinder referred to the attack of vertigo. "Feel quite fit +again, Miss Dwight?"</p> + +<p>"Quite, thank you." Moya was a little irritated at the reference, +because she was ashamed of having given way to physical weakness. "It +was nothing. I was a goose. That's all."</p> + +<p>Bleyer, a guest for the evening, defended the young woman from her own +scorn. "It often takes people that way the first time, what with the +heat and the closeness. I once knew a champion pugilist to keel over +while he was going through a mine."</p> + +<p>"Were you afraid when you found yourself alone?" Joyce asked.</p> + +<p>"I was until you tapped."</p> + +<p>India looked puzzled. "Tapped. What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"On the pipe."</p> + +<p>"What pipe?"</p> + +<p>"The one that ran through the tunnel."</p> + +<p>Miss Kilmeny shook her head. "I didn't see anybody tap. Perhaps one of +us touched it by chance."<a class="pagenum" name="page_269" id="page_269" title="269"></a></p> + +<p>"No. That couldn't be. The tap came seven times together, and after I +had answered it seven times more."</p> + +<p>"Seven times?" asked Bleyer quickly.</p> + +<p>"Yes—seven. But, if you didn't tap, who did?"</p> + +<p>"Sure it wasn't imagination?" Verinder suggested.</p> + +<p>"Imagination! I tell you it was repeated again and again," Moya said +impatiently.</p> + +<p>"Spirit rapping," surmised Joyce lightly. "It doesn't matter, anyhow, +since it served its work of comforting Moya."</p> + +<p>"It might have been some of the workmen," Lady Farquhar guessed.</p> + +<p>"Must have been," agreed Bleyer. "And yet—we're not working that end of +the mine now. The men had no business there. Odd that it was seven raps. +That is a call for help. It means danger."</p> + +<p>A bell of warning began to toll in Moya's heart. It rang as yet no clear +message to her brain, but the premonition of something sinister and +deadly sent a sinking sensation through her.</p> + +<p>Verinder sat up with renewed interest. "I say, you know—spirit rapping. +Weren't you telling me, Bleyer, that there was a big accident there some +years ago? Perhaps the ghosts of some of the lost miners were sending a +message to their wives. Eh, what?"</p> + +<p>"The accident was in the Golden Nugget, an adjoining<a class="pagenum" name="page_270" id="page_270" title="270"></a> mine. The property +was pretty well worked out and has never been opened since the +disaster."</p> + +<p>The color had ebbed from Moya's lips. She was a sane young woman not +given to nerves. But she had worried a great deal over the disappearance +of Jack Kilmeny. This, coming on top of it, shook her composure. For she +was fighting with the dread that the spirit of the man she loved had +been trying to talk with her.</p> + +<p>Joyce chattered gayly. "How weird! Moya, you must write an account of +your experience for the Society for Psychical Research. Put me in it, +please."</p> + +<p>"Of course, it must have been some of the men, but I don't see——"</p> + +<p>Moya interrupted the superintendent sharply. An intuition, like a flash +of light, had illumined her brain. "Where does that pipe run, Mr. +Bleyer?"</p> + +<p>"Don't know. Maps of the workings at the office would show."</p> + +<p>"Will you please find out?"</p> + +<p>"Glad to look it up for you, Miss Dwight. I'm a little curious myself."</p> + +<p>"I mean now—at once."</p> + +<p>He glanced at her in quick surprise. Was she asking him to leave the +dinner table to do it? Lady Farquhar saw how colorless Moya was and came +to the rescue.</p> + +<p>"My dear, you are a little unstrung, aren't you?"<a class="pagenum" name="page_271" id="page_271" title="271"></a> she said gently. "I +think we might find something more cheerful to talk about. We always +have the weather."</p> + +<p>Moya rose, trembling. "No. I know now who called for help. It was Jack +Kilmeny."</p> + +<p>Verinder was the first to break the strained silence. "But that's +nonsense, you know."</p> + +<p>"It's the truth. He was calling for help."</p> + +<p>"Where from? What would he be doing down in a mine?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know.... Yes, I do, too," Moya corrected herself, voice +breaking under the stress of her emotion. "He has been put down there to +die."</p> + +<p>"To die." Joyce echoed the words in a frightened whisper.</p> + +<p>Dobyans laughed. "This is absurd. Who under heaven would put him there?"</p> + +<p>A second flash of light burned in upon the girl. "That man, Peale—and +the other ruffian. They knew about the shipment just as you did. They +waylaid him ... and buried him in some old mine." Moya faced them +tensely, a slim wraith of a girl with dark eyes that blazed. She had +forgotten all about conventions, all about what they would think of her. +The one thing she saw was Jack Kilmeny in peril, calling for help.</p> + +<p>But Lady Farquhar remembered what Moya did not. It was her duty to +defend her charge against the errant impulses of the heart, to screen +them<a class="pagenum" name="page_272" id="page_272" title="272"></a> from the callous eyes of an unsympathetic world.</p> + +<p>"You jump to conclusions, my dear. Sit down and we'll talk it over."</p> + +<p>"No. He called for help. I'm going to take it to him."</p> + +<p>Again Verinder laughed unpleasantly. Moya did not at that moment know +the man was in existence. One sure purpose flooded her whole being. She +was going to save her lover.</p> + +<p>India wavered. She, too, had lost color. "But—you're only guessing, +dear."</p> + +<p>"You'll find it's true. We must follow that pipe and rescue him. +To-night."</p> + +<p>"Didn't know you were subject to nerve attacks, Miss Dwight," derided +Verinder uneasily.</p> + +<p>Moya put her hands in front of her eyes as if to shut out the picture of +what she saw. "He's been there for five days ... starving, maybe." She +shuddered.</p> + +<p>"You're only guessing, Miss Dwight. What facts have you to back it?" +Bleyer asked.</p> + +<p>"We must start at once—this very hour." Moya had recovered herself and +spoke with quiet decision. "But first we must find where the pipe +leads."</p> + +<p>Bleyer answered the appeal in Lady Farquhar's eyes by rising. He +believed it to be a piece of hysterical folly, just as she did. But some +instinct of chivalry in him responded to the call made upon him. He was +going, not to save Kilmeny from an<a class="pagenum" name="page_273" id="page_273" title="273"></a> imaginary death, but to protect the +girl that loved him from showing all the world where her heart was.</p> + +<p>"I'll be back inside of an hour—just as soon as I can trace that pipe +for you, Miss Dwight," he said.</p> + +<p>"After all, Moya may be right," India added, to back her friend.</p> + +<p>"It's just possible," Bleyer conceded.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a class="pagenum" name="page_274" id="page_274" title="274"></a> +<a name="THE_ACID_TEST_7678" id="THE_ACID_TEST_7678"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXII</h2> +<h3>THE ACID TEST</h3> +</div> + +<p>Jack Kilmeny opened his eyes to find himself in darkness utter and +complete except for a pinpoint of light gleaming from far above. His +head was whirling and throbbing painfully. Something warm and moist +dropped into his eyes, and when he put his hand up to investigate the +cause he knew it must be blood from a wound.</p> + +<p>Faintly the sound of voices and of harsh laughter drifted down to him. +Presently this died away. The stillness was almost uncanny.</p> + +<p>"Something laid me out, I reckon. Must have been a bad whack." His +finger found a ridge above the temple which had been plowed through the +thick curly hair. "Looks as though a glancing bullet hit me. Golden luck +it didn't finish the job."</p> + +<p>He moved. A sharp pain shot through his lower right leg. Trying to rise, +he slipped down at once from a badly sprained ankle. Every muscle in his +body ached, as if he had been jarred by a hard fall.</p> + +<p>"Better have a look around first," he told himself.<a class="pagenum" name="page_275" id="page_275" title="275"></a></p> + +<p>Groping in his pocket, he found a match case and struck a light. What he +saw made him shudder. From the ledge upon which he lay fell away a gulf, +the bottom of which could be only guessed. His eyes, becoming accustomed +to the darkness, made out that he was in some sort of shaft, thirty feet +or more below the surface. Rotten from age, the timberings had slipped +and become jammed. Upon some of these he was resting. The sprained +ankle, by preventing him from moving, had saved him from plunging down +the well.</p> + +<p>He held out a silver dollar and dropped it. From the time the coin took +to strike Jack judged he was a hundred feet from the bottom.</p> + +<p>The flare of a second match showed him a wall ladder leading down, but +unfortunately it did not extend above him except in rotting fragments. +What had happened he could guess. Supposing him to be dead, his enemies +had dropped the body down this deserted shaft. Not for a moment did he +doubt who they were. The voices had been unmistakably Cornish, and even +without that evidence he would have guessed Peale and his partner as the +guilty ones.</p> + +<p>Since he could not go up he went down, moving warily so as not to jar +loose the timbers upon which he lay. Every rung of the ladder he tested +with great care before he put his weight upon it. Each step of the +journey down sent a throb of pain from<a class="pagenum" name="page_276" id="page_276" title="276"></a> the ricked ankle, even though he +rested his weight on his hands while he lowered himself. From the last +rung—it was by actual count the one hundred forty-third—he stepped to +the ground.</p> + +<p>Another match showed him a drift running from the foot of the shaft. +Along this he dragged himself slowly, uncertain of direction but +determined to find out what possibility of escape his prison offered. +For two hundred yards the tunnel led forward and brought him up sharply +at an <i>impasse</i>. A cave-in blocked farther advance.</p> + +<p>"Check," Jack told himself aloud grimly.</p> + +<p>He knew now that his situation was a very serious one, for he had been +flung alive into a grave that offered only a slight prospect of escape. +He was without food, effectually cut off from the surface of the earth, +and none but those who had assaulted him knew that he was buried.</p> + +<p>The alternatives that lay before him were plain. He might climb the +ladder again to the timber ledge and keep calling for help, or he might +attempt to dig a way over the cave-in with his hands and his +pocketknife, trusting that the tunnel led to another shaft. The former +was a chance pure and simple, and a slender one at that. It was not +likely that anybody would pass the mouth of a deserted shaft far up in +the hills at this season of the year. But it was quite within the +probabilities that the tunnel led to some of the workings of a live +property.<a class="pagenum" name="page_277" id="page_277" title="277"></a> Many miles of underground drifts were connected by +intercepting stopes of adjoining mines. If he could force a way through +the cave-in there might be safety beyond. To go moling into such a place +without timbering would be a dangerous business, but the crisis was one +that justified any risk.</p> + +<p>He took stock of his assets. Fortunately he had bought at a lunch +counter a ham sandwich to stay his appetite during the night trip. This +was still in his pocket, badly mashed but still edible. Five cigars were +in the case he carried and upon his person all told he found eleven +matches. A little trickle of water ran through the tunnel and gave +assurance that he would not die of thirst. His pocketknife was a +serviceable one and he had plenty of physical strength.</p> + +<p>Jack decided that he would eat half of the sandwich that day and reserve +the rest for the second one. His cigars were precious luxuries to be +indulged in once every twenty-four hours after he had knocked off work.</p> + +<p>He attacked the cave-in with the cool energy that characterized him. Out +of a piece of board he fashioned a kind of shovel with his knife. Bits +of broken timbering lay at the foot of the shaft. These he dragged into +the tunnel for fuel to feed a small fire which he built to give light +for the work. All through the night and till noon the following day he +dug among the fallen rocks and dirt,<a class="pagenum" name="page_278" id="page_278" title="278"></a> cleaning this <i>débris</i> away after +he had loosened it with his bare hands.</p> + +<p>The impact of the fall when he had been thrown down the shaft had jarred +him greatly. With the slightest movement of the body his back and +shoulders ached, sending shoots of pain in protest to his brain. The +sprained ankle he had bound tightly in a wet handkerchief, but every +time his weight rested on that leg he had to grit his teeth. But it was +not in him to quit. He stuck to his job till he had done the shift set +himself.</p> + +<p>At noon he crawled back to the foot of the shaft. He was fagged to +exhaustion. For half an hour he lay stretched on his back with every +muscle relaxed.</p> + +<p>Presently he cut from his coat the pocket that contained the sandwich +and divided the mash of ham and bread into two parts. One of these he +ate. The other he returned to the coat.</p> + +<p>Favoring his ricked ankle as best he could, Jack climbed the wall ladder +to the ledge upon which he had found himself lying the previous night. +Five minutes' examination of the walls showed him that there was no +chance to reach the top of the shaft unaided. He tested the jammed +timbers to make sure they were secure before he put his weight upon +them. During the next six hours he called aloud every few minutes to +attract the attention of anyone who might chance to be passing near.</p> + +<p>Toward evening he treated himself to his first<a class="pagenum" name="page_279" id="page_279" title="279"></a> cigar, making the most +of the comfort that it gave him. When the stub grew short he held it on +the small blade of his knife so as not to miss a puff. What was left he +wrapped in a pocket handkerchief for later use.</p> + +<p>As the stars began to come out in the little patch of blue sky he could +see just above his prison Jack lowered himself again to the foot of the +shaft. Here he lay down a second time and within five minutes had fallen +into a deep sleep.</p> + +<p>About midnight he awakened and was aware at once of a ravenous hunger. +He was still resolute to win a way out, though the knowledge pressed on +him that his chances were slender at the best. Till morning he worked +without a moment's rest. The fever in his ankle and the pain of the +sprain had increased, but he could not afford to pay any attention to +them. Blood from his scarred, torn hands ran down his wrists. Every +muscle in his abused body ached. Still he stabbed with his knife into +the earth that filled the tunnel and still he pulled great rocks back +with his shovel. All his life he had fought for his own hand. He would +not let himself believe fate had played so scurvy a trick as to lock him +alive into a tomb closed so tightly that he could not pry a way out.</p> + +<p>When his watch told him it was eight o'clock he staggered to the shaft +again and lay down on his back to rest. Before climbing to the platform +above<a class="pagenum" name="page_280" id="page_280" title="280"></a> he finished the sandwich. He was very hungry and could have eaten +enough for two men had he been given the opportunity. Again for hours he +called every few minutes at the top of his voice.</p> + +<p>In his vest pocket were a pencil and a notebook used for keeping the +accounts of the highgraders with whom he did business. To pass the time +he set down the story of the crime which had brought him here and his +efforts to free himself.</p> + +<p>After darkness fell he let himself down to the foot of the shaft and +slept. Either from hunger or from fever in his ankle he slept brokenly. +He was conscious of a little delirium in his waking spells, but the +coming of midnight found him master of himself, though a trifle +lightheaded.</p> + +<p>It was impossible to work as steadily as he had done during the two +previous nights. Hunger and pain and toil were doing their best to wear +out his strength. His limbs moved laggardly. Once he fell asleep in the +midst of his labor. He dreamed of Moya, and after he awakened—as he +presently did with a start—she seemed so near that it would scarce have +surprised him if in the darkness his hands had come in contact with the +soft flesh of her vivid face. Nor did it strike him as at all odd that +it was Moya and not Joyce who was visiting him when he was in prison. +Sometimes she came to him as the little girl of the <i>Victorian</i>, but +more often the face he saw was the mocking one of the<a class="pagenum" name="page_281" id="page_281" title="281"></a> young woman, in +which gayety overran the tender sadness of the big, dusky eyes beneath +which tiny freckles had been sprinkled. More than once he clearly heard +her whisper courage to him.</p> + +<p>Next day the notes in his diary were more fragmentary.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Broke my rule and smoked two cigars to-day. Just finished my +fourth. Leaves one more. I drink a great deal. It helps me to +forget I'm hungry. Find a cigar goes farther if I smoke it in +sections. I chew the stubs while I'm working.</p> + +<p>"Have tunneled in about seventeen feet. No sign that I'm near the +end of the cave-in. There's a lot of hell in being buried alive.</p> + +<p>"Think I'm losing my voice from shouting so much when I'm in the +shaft. Gave it up to-day and let little Moya call for me. She's a +trump. Wish she'd stay here all the time and not keep coming and +going." </p></div> + +<p>The jottings on the fourth day show the increase of the delirium. +Sometimes his mind appears to be quite clear, then it wanders to queer +fancies.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Last cigar gone. Got sick from eating the stub. Violent retchings. +Kept falling asleep while working. Twenty-nine feet done—surely<a class="pagenum" name="page_282" id="page_282" title="282"></a> +reach the end to-morrow.... Another cave-in just after I crawled +out from my tunnel. All my work wiped out. Moya, the little devil, +laughed and said it served a highgrader right....</p> + +<p>"Have telegraphed for help. Can't manage alone. Couldn't make it up +the shaft and had to give up the climb. Ordered a big breakfast at +the Silver Dollar—steak and mushrooms and hot cakes. The telegraph +wires run through pipe along floor of tunnel. Why don't the +operator stay on his job? I tap my signals and get no answer." </p></div> + +<p>He began to talk to himself in a rambling sort of way. Sometimes he +would try to justify himself for highgrading in jerky half-coherent +phrases, sometimes he argued with Peale that he had better let him out. +But even in his delirious condition he stuck to his work in the tunnel, +though he was scarce able to drag himself about.</p> + +<p>As the sickness grew on him, the lightheaded intervals became more +frequent. In one of these it occurred to him that he had struck high +grade ore and he filled his pockets with samples taken from the cave-in. +He spent a good deal of time explaining to Moya patiently over and over +again that the business of highgrading was justified by the conditions +under which the miners lived. There was no<a class="pagenum" name="page_283" id="page_283" title="283"></a> sequence to his thoughts. +They came in flashes without logical connection. It became, for +instance, a firm obsession that the pipe running through the tunnel was +a telegraph wire by means of which he could communicate with the outside +world if the operator would only stay on duty. But his interest in the +matter was intermittent.</p> + +<p>It is suggestive of his condition that when Moya's answer came to his +seven taps he took it quite as a matter of course.</p> + +<p>"The son of a Greaser is back on the job at last," he said aloud without +the least excitement. "Now, I'll get that breakfast I ordered."</p> + +<p>He crawled back to the foot of the shaft in a childish, absurd +confidence that the food he craved would soon be sent down to him. While +he waited, Jack fell into light sleep where he lost himself in fancies +that voiced themselves in incoherent snatches of talk.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a class="pagenum" name="page_284" id="page_284" title="284"></a> +<a name="CAPTAIN_KILMENY_RETIRES_7921" id="CAPTAIN_KILMENY_RETIRES_7921"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXIII</h2> +<h3>CAPTAIN KILMENY RETIRES</h3> +</div> + +<p>A voice calling his name from the top of the shaft brought Jack Kilmeny +back to consciousness. He answered.</p> + +<p>A shout of joy boomed down to him in Colter's heavy bass. He could hear, +too, the sweet troubled tones of a woman.</p> + +<p>"Hurry, please, hurry.... Thank God, we're in time."</p> + +<p>"Got that breakfast with you, little neighbor," Jack called up weakly. +He did not need to be told that Moya Dwight was above, and, since she +was there, of course she had brought him the breakfast that he had +ordered from the Silver Dollar.</p> + +<p>"Get back into the tunnel, Jack," Colter presently shouted.</p> + +<p>"What for?"</p> + +<p>"We're lowering someone to you. The timberings are rotten and they might +fall on you. Get back."</p> + +<p>"All right."</p> + +<p>Five minutes later the rescuer reached the foot<a class="pagenum" name="page_285" id="page_285" title="285"></a> of the shaft. He stood +for a moment with a miner's lamp lifted above his head and peered into +the gloom.</p> + +<p>"Where away, Jack?"</p> + +<p>The man was Ned Kilmeny. He and Lord Farquhar had returned to the hotel +just after dinner. The captain had insisted—all the more because there +was some danger in it—that he should be the man lowered to the aid of +his cousin.</p> + +<p>"Bring that breakfast?" Jack snapped, testily.</p> + +<p>"Yes, old man. It's waiting up above. Brought some soup down with me."</p> + +<p>"I ordered it two hours ago. What's been keeping you? I'm going to +complain of the service."</p> + +<p>The captain saw at once that Jack was lightheaded and he humored him.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I would. Now drink this soup."</p> + +<p>The imprisoned man drained the bucket to the last drop.</p> + +<p>Ned loosened the rope from his own body and fastened it about that of +his cousin. He gave the signal and Jack was hauled very carefully to the +surface in such a way as not to collide with the jammed timbers near the +top. Colter and Bleyer lifted the highgrader over the edge of the well, +where he collapsed at once into the arms of his friend.</p> + +<p>Moya, a flask in her hand, stooped over the sick<a class="pagenum" name="page_286" id="page_286" title="286"></a> man where he lay on +the grass. Her fine face was full of poignant sympathy.</p> + +<p>Kilmeny's mind was quite clear now. The man was gaunt as a famished +wolf. Bitten deep into his face were the lines that showed how closely +he had shaved death. But in his eye was the gay inextinguishable gleam +of the thoroughbred.</p> + +<p>"Ain't I the quitter, Miss Dwight? Keeling over just like a sick baby."</p> + +<p>The young woman choked over her answer. "You mustn't talk yet. Drink +this, please."</p> + +<p>He drank, and later he ate sparingly of the food she had hastily +gathered from the dinner table and brought with her. In jerky little +sentences he sketched his adventure, mingling fiction with fact as the +fever grew on him again.</p> + +<p>Bleyer, himself a game man, could not withhold his admiration after he +had heard Captain Kilmeny's story of what he had found below. The two, +with Moya, were riding behind the wagon in which the rescued man lay.</p> + +<p>"Think of the pluck of the fellow—boring away at that cave-in when any +minute a million tons of rock and dirt might tumble down and crush the +life out of him. That's a big enough thing. But add to it his game leg +and his wound and starvation on top of that. I'll give it to him for the +gamest fellow that ever went down into a mine."</p> + +<p>"That's not all," the captain added quietly. "He<a class="pagenum" name="page_287" id="page_287" title="287"></a> must have tunneled in +about twenty-five feet when the roof caved again. Clean bowled out as he +was, Jack tackled the job a second time."</p> + +<p>Moya could not think of what had taken place without a film coming over +her eyes and a sob choking her throat. A vagabond and worse he might be, +but Jack Kilmeny held her love beyond recall. It was useless to remind +herself that he was unworthy. None the less, she gloried in the splendid +courage of the man. It flooded her veins joyously even while her heart +was full to overflowing with tender pity for his sufferings. Whatever +else he might be, Jack Kilmeny was every inch a man. He had in him the +dynamic spark that brought him smiling in his weakness from the presence +of the tragedy that had almost engulfed him.</p> + +<p>There was a little discussion between Colter and Captain Kilmeny as to +which of them should take care of the invalid. The captain urged that he +would get better care at the hotel, where Lady Farquhar and India could +look after him. Colter referred the matter to Jack.</p> + +<p>"I'm not going to burden Lady Farquhar or India. Colter can look out for +me," the sick man said.</p> + +<p>"It's no trouble. India won't be satisfied unless you come to the +hotel," Moya said in a low voice.</p> + +<p>He looked at her, was about to decline, and<a class="pagenum" name="page_288" id="page_288" title="288"></a> changed his mind. The +appeal in her eyes was too potent.</p> + +<p>"I'm in the hands of my friends. Settle it any way you like, Miss +Dwight. Do whatever you want with me, except put me back in that hell."</p> + +<p>After a doctor had seen Jack and taken care of his ankle, after the +trained nurse had arrived and been put in charge of the sick room, +Captain Kilmeny made a report to Moya and his sister.</p> + +<p>"He's gone to sleep already. The doctor says he'll probably be as well +as ever in a week, thanks to you, Moya."</p> + +<p>"Thanks to you, Ned," she amended.</p> + +<p>"He sent to you this record of how he spent his time down there—said it +might amuse you."</p> + +<p>The Captain looked straight at her as he spoke.</p> + +<p>"I'll read it."</p> + +<p>"Do. You'll find something on the last page that will interest you. Now, +I'm going to say good-night. It's time little girls were in bed."</p> + +<p>He kissed his sister and Moya, rather to the surprise of the latter, for +Captain Kilmeny never insisted upon the rights of a lover. There was +something on his face she did not quite understand. It was as if he were +saying good-by instead of good-night.</p> + +<p>She understood it presently. Ned had written a note and pinned it to the +last page of the little book. She read it twice, and then again in +tears. It told<a class="pagenum" name="page_289" id="page_289" title="289"></a> her that the soldier had read truly the secret her +anxiety had flaunted in the face of all her friends.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"It's no go, dear girl. You've done your best, but you don't love +me. You never will. Afraid there's no way left but for me to +release you. So you're free again, little sweetheart.</p> + +<p>"I know you won't misunderstand. Never in my life have I cared for +you so much as I do to-night. But caring isn't enough. I've had my +chance and couldn't win out. May you have good hunting wherever you +go." </p></div> + +<p>The note was signed "Ned."</p> + +<p>Her betrothed had played the game like the gentleman he was to a losing +finish. She knew he would not whimper or complain, that he would meet +her to-morrow cheerfully and easily, hiding even from her the wound in +his heart. He was a better man than his cousin. She could not deny to +herself that his gallantry had a finer edge. His sense of right was +better developed and his courage quite as steady. Ned Kilmeny had won +his V. C. before he was twenty-five. He had carried to a successful +issue one of the most delicate diplomatic missions of recent years. +Everybody conceded that he had a future. If Jack had never appeared on +her horizon she would have married Ned and been to him<a class="pagenum" name="page_290" id="page_290" title="290"></a> a loving wife. +But the harum-scarum cousin had made this impossible.</p> + +<p>Why? Why had her roving heart gone out to this attractive scamp who did +not want her love or care for it? She did not know. The thing was as +unexplainable as it was inescapable. All the training of her life had +shaped her to other ends. Lady Farquhar would explain it as a glamour +cast by a foolish girl's fancy. But Moya knew the tide of feeling which +raced through her was born not of fancy but of the true romance.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a class="pagenum" name="page_291" id="page_291" title="291"></a> +<a name="TWO_IN_A_BUCKET_8102" id="TWO_IN_A_BUCKET_8102"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXIV</h2> +<h3>TWO IN A BUCKET</h3> +</div> + +<p>Jack heard the story of his rescue from India. He surprised her alone in +the breakfast room by hobbling in one morning after the rest had gone.</p> + +<p>She popped a question directly at him. "Did the doctor say you could get +up?"</p> + +<p>"Didn't ask him," he answered with a laugh, and dropped into a seat +across the table.</p> + +<p>Shaven and dressed in a clean freshly pressed suit, he looked a +different man from the haggard grimy vagabond Captain Kilmeny had +brought back with him three days earlier. The eyes were still rather +sunken and the face a bit drawn, but otherwise he was his very competent +and debonair self. His "Good mornin', India," was as cheery and matter +of fact as if those five days of horror had never existed.</p> + +<p>"Don't believe it will hurt you." Her bright eyes were warm in their +approval of him. "You look a lot fitter than you did even yesterday. +It's awfully jolly to see you around again, Cousin Jack."<a class="pagenum" name="page_292" id="page_292" title="292"></a></p> + +<p>"I'm enjoying it myself," he conceded. "Anything of importance in that +covered dish over there?"</p> + +<p>"Tell me all about it," she ordered, handing him the bacon. Then, with a +shudder, she added: "Must have been rather awful down there."</p> + +<p>"Bad enough," he admitted lightly.</p> + +<p>"Tell me." She leaned forward, chin in hand.</p> + +<p>"What's the use? Those fellows put me down. Your brother took me up. +That's all."</p> + +<p>"It isn't all. Ned says it is perfectly marvelous the way you dug that +tunnel and escaped from being crushed, and then dug it again after it +had caved."</p> + +<p>"Couldn't lie down and quit, could I? A man in the hole I was can't pick +and choose." He smiled lazily at her and took a muffin from a plate +handed him by the waiter. "My turn to ask questions. I want the full +story of how you guessed I was in the west shaft of the Golden Nugget."</p> + +<p>"Haven't you heard? It was Moya guessed it—from the tapping on the +pipe, you know."</p> + +<p>"So I've been told. Now let's have the particulars." His eyes went +arrow-straight into hers and rested there.</p> + +<p>India told him. She knew that Ned would make a safer husband for Moya +than this forceful adventurer. It was quite likely to be on the cards +that he cared nothing for her friend. Indeed, his desperate flirtation +with Joyce indicated as much.<a class="pagenum" name="page_293" id="page_293" title="293"></a> Moreover, Moya would not marry a man whom +she could not respect, one who made his living by dishonest practices. +But in spite of all these objections Miss Kilmeny told her cousin how +Moya had fought for his life against ridicule and unbelief, regardless +of what any of them might think of her.</p> + +<p>He made one comment when she had finished. "So I have to thank Moya +Dwight for my life."</p> + +<p>"Moya alone. They laughed at her, but she wouldn't give up. I never saw +anybody so stubborn. There's something splendid in her. She didn't care +what any of us thought. The one thing in her mind was that she was going +to save you. So Mr. Bleyer had to get up from dinner and find out from +the maps where that pipe went. He traced it to the old west shaft of the +Golden Nugget."</p> + +<p>"And what <i>did</i> you think?" he asked, watching her steadily.</p> + +<p>"I admired her pluck tremendously."</p> + +<p>"Did Verinder—and Bleyer—and Lady Farquhar?"</p> + +<p>"How do I know what they thought?" flamed the girl. "If Mr. Verinder is +cad enough——" She stopped, recalling certain obligations she was under +to that gentleman.</p> + +<p>"Why did she do it?"</p> + +<p>She flashed a look of feminine scorn at him. "You'll have to ask Moya +that—if you want to know."<a class="pagenum" name="page_294" id="page_294" title="294"></a></p> + +<p>He nodded his head slowly. "That's just what I'm going to do."</p> + +<p>"You'll have more time to talk with her—now that Joyce is engaged and +daren't flirt with you," his cousin suggested maliciously.</p> + +<p>Though he tried to carry this off with a laugh, the color mounted to his +face. "I've been several kinds of an idiot in my time."</p> + +<p>"Don't you dare try any nonsense with Moya," her friend cried, a little +fiercely.</p> + +<p>"No," he agreed.</p> + +<p>"She's not Joyce."</p> + +<p>He had an answer for that. "I'd marry her to-morrow if she'd take me."</p> + +<p>"You mean you...?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. From the first day I met her again. And I didn't know it till I +was down in that hell hole. Shall I tell you something?" He put his arms +on the table and leaned toward her with shining eyes. "She was with me +down there most of the time. Any time I stopped to listen I could hear +her whisper courage in that low, sweet voice of hers."</p> + +<p>"You know about her and Ned?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"He's a better man than you are, Jack."</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"But you won't let him have her."</p> + +<p>"No, by God, not unless she loves him."<a class="pagenum" name="page_295" id="page_295" title="295"></a></p> + +<p>"She would have loved him if it hadn't been for you."</p> + +<p>"You mean she loves me?"</p> + +<p>"She won't marry you. She can't."</p> + +<p>"Why not? Because I don't belong to her social set?"</p> + +<p>"No. That would be reason enough for Joyce or me, but I don't think it +would stop Moya."</p> + +<p>"You mean—highgrading?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>Joyce interrupted further confidences by making her usual late +appearance for breakfast. At sight of Kilmeny her eyes brightened. Life +always became more interesting for her when a possible man was present. +Instantly she came forward with a touch of reluctant eagerness that was +very effective.</p> + +<p>"I'm glad to see you up again—so glad, Mr. Kilmeny."</p> + +<p>In the pretty breakfast gown which displayed her soft curves and the +ripe roundness of throat and arm she made a picture wholly charming. If +Jack was overpowered he gave no sign of it.</p> + +<p>"Glad to meet you, Miss Seldon."</p> + +<p>Her eyes rained sweet pity on him, a tenderness potent enough to disturb +the serenity of any young man not in armor.</p> + +<p>"We—we've been so worried about you."</p> + +<p>He laughed, genially and without resentment.<a class="pagenum" name="page_296" id="page_296" title="296"></a> "Awfully good of you. +Shall I ring for the waiter?"</p> + +<p>India rose. "I'm going riding with Ned and Moya," she explained.</p> + +<p>Alone with the Westerner, Joyce felt her blood begin to quicken.</p> + +<p>"Are you quite ... recovered?" she asked.</p> + +<p>Their eyes met. In his there was a faint cynical smile of amusement.</p> + +<p>"Quite."</p> + +<p>She understood the double meaning in his words. Her lashes fell to the +soft cheeks, then lifted again. "I thought perhaps there might be ... +that you might still be...."</p> + +<p>He shook his head vigorously. "It was only a dream. I can laugh at it +now—and at myself for taking it seriously."</p> + +<p>Joyce bit her lip with vexation. There was something not quite decent in +so prompt a recovery from her charms. He did not appear to hold even any +resentment.</p> + +<p>Nor did he. Kilmeny had been brought too near the grim realities to hold +any petty pique. He found this young woman still charming, but his +admiration was tinctured with amusement. No longer did his imagination +play upon her personality. He focused it upon the girl who had fought +for his life against the ridicule and the suspicions of her friends. It +was impossible for him to escape the<a class="pagenum" name="page_297" id="page_297" title="297"></a> allure of her fine sweet courage +so gallantly expressed in every look and motion.</p> + +<p>But Moya let him severely alone. Her pride was suffering because she had +showed to all her little world too keen an interest in him. In her +anxiety to repudiate any claim he might think she felt she had upon him +the girl was scornfully indifferent to his advances. Almost rudely she +rejected his gratitude.</p> + +<p>"The man does not owe me anything. Can't he see that honors are easy?" +she said impatiently to Lady Farquhar.</p> + +<p>Jack Kilmeny was no quitter. He set that lean jaw of his and would not +accept repulse. In four days now the Farquhar party was going to leave +Goldbanks and he made the most of his time.</p> + +<p>Moya never saw him coming toward her without having her pulses stirred, +but her look met his always quietly and steadily. Not once did she give +him a chance to see her alone. Even Lady Farquhar, who had been a severe +critic of her vagaries, commended now her discretion. Jack rebelled +against it in vain. He could not find a chance to speak. It was +characteristic of him that he made one.</p> + +<p>By shrewd maneuvering he arranged an expedition to the Silent Sam mine. +The property itself was of no particular interest. The attractive +feature was a descent in ore buckets from the shaft-house,<a class="pagenum" name="page_298" id="page_298" title="298"></a> perched far +up on the edge of a precipitous cliff, to the mill in the valley below. +This was made by means of heavy cables to which the buckets were +suspended. After Jack had explained how the men rode back and forth by +this means between the mill and the mine India was seized with the +inspiration he had hoped for.</p> + +<p>"Let's go down in the buckets, dear people."</p> + +<p>Lady Farquhar protested and was overruled by a chorus of votes. The +miner assured her that it was entirely safe. Reluctantly she gave +permission for her flock to make the trip if they desired.</p> + +<p>They rode on horseback to the mill. Jack paired with India, making no +attempt to ride beside Moya, who brought up the rear with the captain. +The Westerner, answering the questions of his cousin, was at his +debonair best. Occasionally there drifted back to the couple in the rear +fragmentary snatches of his talk. He was telling of the time he had been +a mule skinner in New Mexico, of how he had ridden mail near Deming, and +of frontier days at Tombstone. Casual anecdotes were sprinkled through +his explanations to liven them. He spoke in the slurring drawl of the +Southwest, which went so well with the brown lean face beneath the +pinched-in felt hat and the well-packed vigor of the man.</p> + +<p>"And what is 'bucking a sample'?" India wanted to know after one of his +stories.<a class="pagenum" name="page_299" id="page_299" title="299"></a></p> + +<p>"You just pound some rock up and mix it to get a sample. Once when I was +drag-driver of a herd in a round-up...."</p> + +<p>Moya heard no more. She turned her attention resolutely to her companion +and tried to detach her mind from the man in front. She might as well +have tried to keep her heart from beating.</p> + +<p>After they had arrived at the mill Jack quietly took charge of the +disposition of the party. Verinder and Joyce were sent up in the first +bucket. When this was halfway up to the mine the cable stopped to let +another couple enter a bucket. Joyce, fifty feet up in the air, waved +her hand to those below.</p> + +<p>"You next, India," ordered her cousin.</p> + +<p>The young woman stepped into the bucket. "I'm 'fraid," she announced +promptly.</p> + +<p>"No need to be. Captain, your turn."</p> + +<p>The eyes of the two men met. Ned Kilmeny guessed instantly that the +other had arranged this so as to get a few minutes alone with Moya. He +took a place beside his sister immediately.</p> + +<p>The cable did not stop again until the second pair of passengers had +reached the mine.</p> + +<p>Moya, followed by Jack, stepped into the basket, which began to rise +steadily as it moved across the valley.</p> + +<p>Kilmeny did not lose a minute.<a class="pagenum" name="page_300" id="page_300" title="300"></a></p> + +<p>"Why don't you let me see you alone? Why do you run away from me?" he +demanded.</p> + +<p>Little patches of color burned beneath the shadows of her eyes. A sound +as of a distant surf began to beat in her ears.</p> + +<p>"What nonsense! Why should I run from you?" she asked, meeting with +difficulty the attack of his masterful gaze.</p> + +<p>"Because you're afraid to let me tell you that I love you," he charged.</p> + +<p>"Thought it was Joyce you ... fancied," she retorted quietly, her pulse +hammering.</p> + +<p>"So it was. I fancied her. I love you. I'm asking you to marry me."</p> + +<p>"You don't have to ask me to marry you because you exaggerate the +service I did you."</p> + +<p>"I ask you because I love you."</p> + +<p>"Thank you very much for the compliment. Sorry I must decline." She did +not dare look at him. Her eyes were fixed on the mill far below.</p> + +<p>"Why must you—since you love me?"</p> + +<p>The telltale pink stained her cheeks. "You take that for granted, do +you?"</p> + +<p>"It's true, I believe. How can I make love to you as other men do? Lady +Farquhar won't let me see you alone—even if you were willing to give me +a chance. In two days you are going out of my life. I must speak the +truth ... bluntly. I love you. It has been that way with me ever since<a class="pagenum" name="page_301" id="page_301" title="301"></a> +you came into my life again, little Moya. But I was blind and didn't see +it till ... till I was alone in the mine with death."</p> + +<p>"I ... am sorry."</p> + +<p>"That is not enough. I'm going to have the truth. You saved my life. +What for? It is yours ... if you will take it."</p> + +<p>She looked straight at him. "I can't marry you."</p> + +<p>"Why can't you? Can you say that you don't love me?"</p> + +<p>In the full-charged silence that followed a stifling emotion raced +through her blood. The excitement in her set a pulse beating in her +throat. Womanlike, she evaded the issue.</p> + +<p>"The cable has stopped. What has happened?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing has happened. It has stopped because I arranged with the +engineer at the hoist to have it stop. When I give the signal it will +start again."</p> + +<p>"But...."</p> + +<p>He brushed aside her futile protest. "I'm going to have this out with +you. Dare you tell me that you don't love me, Moya?"</p> + +<p>He forced her to meet his eyes, and in that moment she felt weak and +faint. The throb of passion beat tumultuously against her will.</p> + +<p>"Please ... be generous. What will they think? Let us start," she +begged.</p> + +<p>"They will think something is wrong with the machinery. But it doesn't +matter in the least what<a class="pagenum" name="page_302" id="page_302" title="302"></a> they think. It's my last chance, and I'll not +give it up. You've got to answer me."</p> + +<p>The point where the bucket had stopped was a hundred feet above the +ground below. She looked down, and shuddered.</p> + +<p>"It's so far down ... please."</p> + +<p>"Then don't look down. Look at me, Moya. It won't take you a moment to +answer me."</p> + +<p>"I have. I said I couldn't marry you."</p> + +<p>"Tell me that you don't love me and I'll give the signal."</p> + +<p>"I ... don't."</p> + +<p>"Look straight at me and say it."</p> + +<p>She tried to look at him and repeat it, but her eyes betrayed the secret +she was fighting to keep from him. The long lashes fell to the hot +cheeks an instant too late.</p> + +<p>His hand found hers. "My little Irish wild rose, all sweetness and +thorns," he murmured.</p> + +<p>Above the tumult of her heart she heard her voice say, as if it were +that of a stranger, "It's no use ... I can't ... marry you."</p> + +<p>"Because I'm a highgrader?"</p> + +<p>She nodded.</p> + +<p>"Do you think I'm worse than other men? Down in the bottom of your heart +do you believe that?"</p> + +<p>She smiled wanly. "Other men are not ... making love to me."</p> + +<p>"Am I nothing but a thief to you?"<a class="pagenum" name="page_303" id="page_303" title="303"></a></p> + +<p>"I have told you that you are the man I ... love. Isn't that a good +deal?"</p> + +<p>The desire of her, pure as a flame, swept through him. "It's the +greatest thing that ever came into my life. Do you think I'm going to +let it end there? I'm going to fight for our happiness. I'm going to +beat down the things that come between us."</p> + +<p>"You can't. It's too late," she cried wistfully.</p> + +<p>"It's never too late for love so long as we're both alive."</p> + +<p>"Not for love, but...."</p> + +<p>"You've got to see this as I see it, sweetheart. I'm a man—primitive, +if you like. I've done wild and evil things—plenty of them. What of +that? I slough them off and trample them down. The heart of me is clean, +isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>To look at him was enough to clear away all doubt. He had the faults +that go with full-blooded elemental life, but at bottom this virile +American was sound.</p> + +<p>"Well! Isn't that enough?"</p> + +<p>The little movement of her hands toward him seemed to beg for pity. +"Jack! I can't help it. Maybe I'm a little prig, but ... mustn't we +guide our lives by principle and not by impulse?"</p> + +<p>"Do I guide mine by impulse?"</p> + +<p>"Don't you?" She hurried on to contradict, or at least to modify, her +reluctant charge. "Oh, I<a class="pagenum" name="page_304" id="page_304" title="304"></a> know you are a great influence here. You're +known all over the state. Men follow you wherever you lead. Why should I +criticize you—I, who have done nothing all my life but lean on others?"</p> + +<p>"Go ahead. When I ask you to marry me I invite your criticism."</p> + +<p>"I have to take little steps and to keep in well-worn paths. I can't +make laws for myself as you do. Those that have been made may be wrong, +but I must obey them."</p> + +<p>"Why? Why should you? If they're wrong, fight against them."</p> + +<p>"I can't argue with you ... dear. But I know what I think right. I +<i>want</i> to think as you do. Oh, you don't know how I long to throw my +Puritan conscience overboard and just trust your judgment. I ... admire +you tremendously. But I can't give in ... I can't."</p> + +<p>The muscles stood out on his lean cheeks as he set his teeth. "You've +got to, Moya. Our love has been foreordained. Do you think it is for +nothing that we met again after all these years? You're mine—the one +woman in the world I want and am going to have."</p> + +<p>She shook her head sadly. "No ... no!"</p> + +<p>"Is it the money I have made highgrading? Is that what stands between +us? If I were able to come to you without a dollar but with clean +hands—would you marry me then?"<a class="pagenum" name="page_305" id="page_305" title="305"></a></p> + +<p>He leaned toward her, eager, ardent, passionate, the color in his cheeks +burning to a dull brick tint beneath the tan. Body and soul she swayed +toward him. All her vital love of life, of things beautiful and good and +true, fused in a crescendo of emotion.</p> + +<p>"My dear ... my dear, I'm only a girl—and I love you." Somehow her +hands were buried in the strong grip of his. "But ... I can't live on +the profits of what I think is wrong. If it weren't for that ... Jack, +I'd marry you if you were a pauper—and thank God for the chance."</p> + +<p>He faced her doggedly. "I'm not a pauper. I've fought for my share of +the spoils. You've been brought up in a hot-house. Out in the world a +man wins because he's strong. Do you think it's all been play with me? +By God, no! I've ridden night herd in a blizzard when the temperature +was below zero. I've done my shift on the twelfth level of the Never +Quit many a month. I've mushed in Alaska and fought against Castro in +Venezuela. Do you think I'm going to give up my stake now I've won it at +last?"</p> + +<p>She looked at him tremulously. "I don't ask you to give it up. You'll +have to decide that for yourself."</p> + +<p>"Don't you see I <i>can't</i> give it up? If I do, I lose you. How can I take +care of you without money?"</p> + +<p>"I'd do my best, Jack."</p> + +<p>"You don't understand. It would be for<a class="pagenum" name="page_306" id="page_306" title="306"></a> years—until I had made another +start. I wouldn't let you give up everything unless I had something to +offer. I wouldn't consider it."</p> + +<p>"Isn't that putting pride before love, Jack? You know I have a little +money of my own. We could live—in very decent poverty. I would love to +feel that we were fighting ... together. We both know you'll win in the +end. Wouldn't it be fine to work out your success in partnership? Dear, +I'd <i>rather</i> marry you while you're still a poor man."</p> + +<p>For a moment the vision of it tempted him, but he put the dream away. +"No. It won't do. Of course I'm going to win out in the end, but it +might take a dozen years to set me on Easy street. For a woman brought +up as you have been poverty is hell."</p> + +<p>"Then you think I'm only a doll," she flashed. "You want to put me back +in that hot-house you mentioned. I'm just an ornament to dress up and +look at and play with."</p> + +<p>"I think you're a little tinder-box," he said, smiling ruefully.</p> + +<p>"Don't you see how it is with me, Jack? I've always craved life. I've +wanted to take hold of it with both hands and without gloves. But they +would never let me. I've got my chance now ... if you really love me +more than you do your pride and your money. I want to live close to the +people—as you do."<a class="pagenum" name="page_307" id="page_307" title="307"></a></p> + +<p>"What did that suit cost you?" he asked abruptly.</p> + +<p>"Don't remember. Twenty-five pounds, maybe. Why?"</p> + +<p>"One hundred twenty dollars, say. And you need dozens of dresses in a +season. I'll make a guess that it takes five thousand a year to clothe +you. That is nearly twice as much as I'll earn altogether next year if I +throw away my stake."</p> + +<p>She waved his argument aside. "Stupid boy! I have dresses enough to last +me for five years—if you'll let me be that poor man's wife. I can make +them over myself later and still be the best dressed woman in camp."</p> + +<p>From above came Captain Kilmeny's shout. "We telephoned down. The +engineer has the trouble arranged."</p> + +<p>The cable began to move.</p> + +<p>"When shall I see you alone again, Moya?" Jack demanded.</p> + +<p>"I don't know."</p> + +<p>"I'm going to see you. We've got to fight this out. I'll not let Lady +Farquhar keep me from seeing you alone. It's serious business."</p> + +<p>"Yes," she admitted. "I'll tell Lady Jim. But ... there's no use in +letting you think I'll give up. I can't."</p> + +<p>"You've got to give up. That's all there is to it." His jaw was set like +a vise.</p> + +<p>The party above fell upon them as they landed.<a class="pagenum" name="page_308" id="page_308" title="308"></a></p> + +<p>"Were you frightened, Moya?" exclaimed Joyce above the chorus of +questions.</p> + +<p>"Just for a moment." Moya did not look at Jack. "Mr. Kilmeny told me it +would be all right."</p> + +<p>Jack's eyes danced. "I told her we would work out of the difficulty if +she would trust me."</p> + +<p>Moya blushed. It happened that Captain Kilmeny was looking directly at +her when his cousin spoke.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a class="pagenum" name="page_309" id="page_309" title="309"></a> +<a name="HOMING_HEARTS_8647" id="HOMING_HEARTS_8647"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXV</h2> +<h3>HOMING HEARTS</h3> +</div> + +<p>Jack Kilmeny had not been brought up in the dry sunbaked West for +nothing. The winds of the Rockies had entered into his character as well +as into his physique. He was a willful man, with a good deal of granite +in his make-up. A fighter from his youth, he did not find it easy to +yield the point upon which he differed from Moya. There was in her so +much of impulsive generosity that he had expected to overpower her +scruples. But she stood like a rock planted in the soil.</p> + +<p>It came to him as he walked home after a long fight with her that in his +heart he did not want her to yield. She was the Moya Dwight he loved +because she would not compromise with her conviction. Yet, though he +wanted her to stand firm, he hated the thought of giving way himself. It +galled his pride that he must come to her without a penny, knowing that +she had the means to keep them both modestly. Nor could he, without a +pang, think of surrendering the twenty-eight thousand dollars he had +fought for and won. He was no visionary.<a class="pagenum" name="page_310" id="page_310" title="310"></a> The value of money he +understood perfectly. It stood for power, place, honor, the things that +were worth having. Given what he had, Jack knew he could double it in +Goldbanks within the year. There were legitimate opportunities for +investment that were bound to make rich returns. But without a dollar he +would be like Samson shorn of his locks.</p> + +<p>All through the night he was joined in battle with himself, but when at +early dawn he stood on the top of Son-of-a-Gun hill and faced a sky +faintly pink with the warning of a coming sun his decision had been +made.</p> + +<p>On his way back he met Moya and Miss Seldon. Joyce pounced upon him with +a grievance.</p> + +<p>"You haven't told me yet how much you're going to give for the new +hospital, Mr. Kilmeny. You know we're leaving to-morrow, and you'll have +to decide at once. Be generous, please. You said yourself it was a good +cause."</p> + +<p>He nodded agreement. "The most worthy charity I know. I've often +wondered why some Andrew Carnegie didn't set the fashion of endowing +hospitals by wholesale. They ought to be free to all poor folks out of +health. When a man is losing his wages and his family is scrimping he +ought not to be facing a thirty-dollar-a-week hospital charge. Yes, I'm +for the new hospital, Miss Seldon."</p> + +<p>"How strong are you for it?" Joyce asked, laughing at her newly acquired +American slang. "Mr.<a class="pagenum" name="page_311" id="page_311" title="311"></a> Verinder has promised to give me two dollars for +every one I can raise among my other friends. So don't be a—a——"</p> + +<p>"A tightwad," supplied Moya with a smile. She could do a little in the +native slang herself.</p> + +<p>Jack went into his pocket for a checkbook and a fountain pen. He wrote +for a few seconds, tore the check from the stub, and handed it to Joyce.</p> + +<p>That young woman gasped.</p> + +<p>"Why—you don't really mean—it's for twenty-eight thousand two hundred +and fourteen dollars," she cried.</p> + +<p>"And seventeen cents. Please don't forget that," he added.</p> + +<p>"But—what on earth do you mean?"</p> + +<p>Jack was looking at Moya, and she at him with shining eyes in which joy +swam.</p> + +<p>"It's a little thank offering, Miss Seldon."</p> + +<p>"Because you were rescued from the mine, I suppose. Still...."</p> + +<p>"Because I'm engaged to be married to the best woman in the world," he +corrected.</p> + +<p>Joyce whirled upon Moya with instant divination. "You little wretch, and +you never told me."</p> + +<p>If Miss Dwight had not known it herself till this moment she gave no +sign to that effect. "We're telling you now, dear," she explained.</p> + +<p>"How long have you been engaged? Was it yesterday in the bucket?"<a class="pagenum" name="page_312" id="page_312" title="312"></a></p> + +<p>Jack laughed. "Nothing so romantic. We've been engaged a little less +than half a minute. You get the first chance to wish Moya joy on having +won so great a catch. She's marrying a pauper, you know."</p> + +<p>"I think we're very rich," differed his sweetheart shyly.</p> + +<p>Joyce looked from one to the other suspiciously. "I haven't a notion +what either of you mean, but I know I'm going to hang on to this check, +Mr. Millionaire Pauper."</p> + +<p>Imps of mischief sparkled in the highgrader's eyes. "Don't forget that +Verinder has to write one for twice as much."</p> + +<p>Miss Seldon could not help laughing. "I'll see to that. He's not a +welcher, but ... I wonder how he'll look when I tell him."</p> + +<p>"You ought to tell him as soon as you can," Jack hinted boldly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, ought I? Did you say you had been engaged less than a minute, Mr. +Kilmeny? How much will you give me to go down now and tell him?"</p> + +<p>"I've nothing left to give—except my gratitude."</p> + +<p>"You're the first man who ever was so ungallant as to tell me he would +be grateful to have me leave him."</p> + +<p>"I'm the first who ever proposed to another girl<a class="pagenum" name="page_313" id="page_313" title="313"></a> in your presence. The +circumstance is unusual," he flung back gayly.</p> + +<p>"I didn't hear you propose. All you did was to announce it," she replied +saucily.</p> + +<p>"That's true too," admitted Kilmeny. "Well, I'm going to propose now if +it isn't too late. You may stay if you like."</p> + +<p>"Thanks, no." Joyce kissed her friend. "I hope you'll be very happy, +dear. I ... I believe you will."</p> + +<p>Moya choked on her words. "I know I shall, Joy."</p> + +<p>Miss Seldon looked at Jack with an expression in which embarrassment and +audacity were blended. "I've always rather liked your pauper," she +confided aloud to Moya.</p> + +<p>Her confidences had their limits. She omitted to mention what had just +popped into her mind, that within the fortnight he had proposed to her +too on the same spot.</p> + +<p>Jack bowed with exaggerated deference when she shook hands with him. He +was just now riding the seventh wave of happiness and felt friendly to +the whole world.</p> + +<p>"Thanks very much. You're a good scout, Joyce."</p> + +<p>"Good gracious! What may that be? Some more of your American slang, I +suppose." She broke away from persiflage to add seriously:<a class="pagenum" name="page_314" id="page_314" title="314"></a> "You're +right about one thing, though. You've got the best girl in the world. Be +good to her, Jack Kilmeny."</p> + +<p>With that she turned and walked down the hill.</p> + +<p>The other two walked up.</p> + +<p>"I'm so proud of you, Jack, boy," whispered one of them.</p> + +<p>He laughed happily. "I'm proud of myself. I've done the best day's work +I ever did for myself when I won Moya Dwight."</p> + +<p>"You know what I mean, Jack. What other man would have thrown away a +small fortune—all he had—just for me?"</p> + +<p>"I can name one other," suggested Kilmeny.</p> + +<p>"Ned! But he's a saint."</p> + +<p>"And I'm a sinner," her lover replied blithely.</p> + +<p>"You're the sinner I love, then."</p> + +<p>They had reached a clump of firs. Without knowing how it happened she +found herself in his arms. There were both tears and laughter in her +eyes as her lips turned slowly to meet his.</p> + +<p>"The first time since we were kiddies on the <i>Victorian</i>, sweetheart," +he told her.</p> + +<p>"Yes, it's true. I loved you then. I love you now.... Jack, boy, I'm +just the happiest girl alive."</p> + +<p>A mist-like veil of old rose hung above the mountain tops. Hand in hand +they watched the rising sun pierce through it and flood the crotches of +the<a class="pagenum" name="page_315" id="page_315" title="315"></a> hills with God's splendid canvases. It was a part of love's egoism +that all this glory of the young day seemed an accompaniment to the song +of joy that pulsed through them.</p> + +<p>Later they came to earth and babbled the nonsense that is the highest +wisdom of lovers. They built air castles and lived in them, seeing life +through a poetic ambient as a long summer day in which they should ride +and work and play together.</p> + +<p>At last she remembered Lady Farquhar and began to laugh.</p> + +<p>"We must go down and tell her at once, Jack."</p> + +<p>He agreed. "Yes, let's go back and have it out. If you like you may go +to your room and I'll tackle her alone."</p> + +<p>"I'd rather go with you."</p> + +<p>He delighted in her answer.</p> + +<p>Farquhar was taking an early morning stroll, arm in arm with Lady Jim, +when he caught sight of them.</p> + +<p>"Look, Di!"</p> + +<p>Both of the lovers knew how to walk. Lady Farquhar, watching them, +thought she had never seen as fine a pair of untamed human beings. In +his step was the fine free swing of the hillman, and the young woman +breasted the slope lightly as a faun.</p> + +<p>The Englishman chuckled. "You're beaten, Di. The highwayman wins."<a class="pagenum" name="page_316" id="page_316" title="316"></a></p> + +<p>"Nonsense," she retorted sharply, but with anxiety manifest in her +frown.</p> + +<p>"Fact, just the same. He's coming to tell us he means to take our little +girl to his robber den."</p> + +<p>"I believe you'd actually let him," she said scornfully.</p> + +<p>"Even you can't stop him. It's written in the books. Not sure I'd +interfere if I could. For a middle-aged Pharisee with the gout I'm +incurably romantic. It's the child's one great chance for happiness. But +I wish to the deuce he wasn't a highgrader."</p> + +<p>"She shan't sacrifice herself if I can prevent it," Lady Farquhar +insisted stanchly.</p> + +<p>"I 'member a girl who sacrificed herself for a line lieutenant without a +shilling to call his own," he soliloquized aloud. "Would have him, and +did, by Jove! Three deaths made him Lord Farquhar later, but she married +the penniless subaltern."</p> + +<p>"I've always been glad I did." She squeezed his arm fondly. "But this is +different, James."</p> + +<p>Kilmeny and Moya stopped. The young man doffed his gray felt hat and +bowed.</p> + +<p>"Mornin', Lady Farquhar—Lord Farquhar. We've come to ask your +permission for our marriage."</p> + +<p>"Mornin', rebels. Fancy I'll have to refuse it," cut back Farquhar, eyes +twinkling. For this bold directness pleased and amused him.<a class="pagenum" name="page_317" id="page_317" title="317"></a></p> + +<p>"That would distress us extremely," answered Kilmeny with a genial +smile.</p> + +<p>"But would not affect your plans, I understand you to mean."</p> + +<p>"You catch the idea exactly, sir."</p> + +<p>Lady Farquhar entered the conversation. "Are you planning to go to +prison with him, Moya, when he is convicted of highgrading?" she asked +pleasantly.</p> + +<p>Moya told in three sentences of what her lover had done. The Englishman +wrung Kilmeny's hand cordially.</p> + +<p>"By Jove, you reform thoroughly when you go about it. Don't think I'd +have enjoyed writing that check for Miss Joyce. Leaves you strapped, +does it?"</p> + +<p>"Dead broke," came the very cheerful reply.</p> + +<p>"But of course Moya has some money," said Lady Farquhar quietly.</p> + +<p>The Westerner winced. "Wish she hadn't. It's the only thing I have to +forgive her."</p> + +<p>Farquhar lifted his eyebrows. "Di," he remonstrated.</p> + +<p>His wife came to time with a frank apology. "That was downright nasty of +me, Mr. Kilmeny. I withdraw it. None the less, I think Moya would be +throwing herself away. Do you realize what you are proposing? She's been +used to the best ever since she was born. Have you the means to<a class="pagenum" name="page_318" id="page_318" title="318"></a> supply +her needs? Or are you considering a Phyllida and Corydon idyll in a +cottage?"</p> + +<p>"It will have to be something of that sort at first. I've told her all +this too, Lady Farquhar."</p> + +<p>"What does that matter if we love each other?" Moya asked.</p> + +<p>"You'll find it matters a good deal," said Lady Jim dryly. "When poverty +comes in love is likely to wink out any day. Of course I realize that +yours is of a quality quite unusual. It always is, my dear. Every lover +has thought that since time began."</p> + +<p>"We'll have to take our fighting chance of that," Jack replied.</p> + +<p>Moya, her eyes shining, nodded agreement. No great gain can be won +without risk. She knew there was a chance that she might not find +happiness in her love. But where it called her she must follow—to a +larger life certainly, to joy and to sorrow, to the fuller experiences +that must come to every woman who fulfills her destiny.</p> + +<p>A voice hailed Jack. Colter was hurrying up the street, plainly excited. +Kilmeny moved a few steps toward him.</p> + +<p>Lady Jim took advantage of his absence to attack Moya from another +angle. "My dear, I wish I could show you how much depends on a +similarity of tastes, of habits, of standards. Matrimony means more than +love. It means adjustment."</p> + +<p>"I've thought of that too. But ... when you<a class="pagenum" name="page_319" id="page_319" title="319"></a> love enough that doesn't +help the adjustment?" asked the girl naïvely.</p> + +<p>She had appealed to Farquhar. That gentleman came to her assistance. "It +does."</p> + +<p>"This isn't a matter to be decided merely by personal preference," urged +the older woman. "There may be—consequences."</p> + +<p>The color beat into the face of the young woman in a wave, but her eyes +held steadily to those of Lady Farquhar.</p> + +<p>"I ... hope so."</p> + +<p>"Bravo, Moya!" applauded her guardian, clapping his hands softly.</p> + +<p>"Don't you think they—the consequences—deserve a better chance than +you will give them?"</p> + +<p>"I'll answer that, Di," spoke up Farquhar. "When a girl chooses for the +father of her children a man who is clean and strong and virile, and on +top of that her lover, she is giving them the best possible chance in +life."</p> + +<p>Moya's gratitude shone through the eyes that met those of her guardian.</p> + +<p>Kilmeny swung back to the group he had left. "I've good news, friends. +This is my lucky day. You remember that when I was rescued from the +Golden Nugget my pockets were full of ore samples I had picked up as I +was tunneling."</p> + +<p>"Yes ... picked them up while you were delirious, didn't you?" Farquhar +replied.<a class="pagenum" name="page_320" id="page_320" title="320"></a></p> + +<p>"Must have, I reckon. Well, you know how miners are always having pieces +of quartz assayed. Colter took these to the man we employ. He's just +learned that it is high-grade stuff."</p> + +<p>"You've made a strike?"</p> + +<p>"Looks like it. Colter wasn't taking any chances, anyhow. He hiked right +around to the owners of the mine and signed up a five-year lease in his +name and mine."</p> + +<p>Farquhar shook hands with him cordially. "Hope you make a fortune, +Kilmeny."</p> + +<p>Moya's chaperon, facing the inevitable, capitulated as graceful as she +could. After all, the girl might have done worse. The man she had chosen +was well born, good looking, forceful, and a leader in his community. If +this fortunate strike was going to leave him well off, clearly she must +make the best of him.</p> + +<p>"You're a lucky man. I hope you know you don't deserve a girl like +Moya," she told him as she shook hands.</p> + +<p>"I know it, all right. Can you tell me who does?" he flung back, with a +gay insouciant smile.</p> + +<p>At that moment Ned Kilmeny stepped out upon the hotel porch. Lady Jim +nodded toward him.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps," his cousin conceded. "But in this little old world a man +doesn't get what he deserves."</p> + +<p>"I see he doesn't. Ned is a better man than you."<a class="pagenum" name="page_321" id="page_321" title="321"></a></p> + +<p>"Yes," he admitted.</p> + +<p>Captain Kilmeny, coming down the porch steps, saw in a flash what had +happened. He came forward with the even stride and impassive face that +seldom deserted him. In two sentences Lady Farquhar told him the facts.</p> + +<p>"You lucky dog," he said to his cousin as their hands gripped.</p> + +<p>Jack had never liked him better than in this moment when he was giving +up so cheerfully the thing he wanted most in the world.</p> + +<p>"It isn't always the best man that wins, captain. I take off my hat to +the better men who have tried and failed. Perhaps it may be a comfort to +them to know that I'm the man that needs her most."</p> + +<p>The captain turned to Moya. "So you've found that good hunting already," +he said to her in a low voice.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I think I have ... I'm sure of it, Ned." Her eyes were full of +tender sympathy for him. She wished she could tell him how much she +admired his fine spirit.</p> + +<p>"God keep you happy," he said wistfully.</p> + +<p>Jack joined them and slipped Moya's arm into his. "Amen to that, +captain. And since Jack Kilmeny has been appointed deputy on the job I'm +going to see your wish comes true."</p> + +<p>Moya looked at her lover and smiled.</p> + +<hr class='full' /> + +<p class='center' style='font-size:large'><i>Nine Splendid Novels by</i></p> + +<p class='center' style='font-size:large'>WILLIAM MacLEOD RAINE</p> + +<p style='font-weight:bold'>THE PIRATE OF PANAMA</p> + +<p>A tale of old-time pirates and of modern love, hate and adventure. The +scene is laid in San Francisco on board <i>The Argus</i> and in Panama. A +romantic search for the lost pirate gold. An absorbing love-story runs +through the book.</p> + +<p style='text-align:right; font-size:smaller'><i>12mo, Cloth, Jacket in Colors. Net $1.25.</i></p> + +<p style='font-weight:bold'>THE VISION SPLENDID</p> + +<p>A powerful story in which a man of big ideas and fine ideals wars +against graft and corruption. A most satisfactory love affair terminates +the story.</p> + +<p style='text-align:right; font-size:smaller'><i>12mo, Cloth, Illustrated. Net $1.25,</i></p> + +<p style='font-weight:bold'>CROOKED TRAILS AND STRAIGHT</p> + +<p>A story of Arizona; of swift-riding men and daring outlaws; of a bitter +feud between cattle-men and sheep-herders. The heroine is a most unusual +woman and her love-story reaches a culmination that is fittingly +characteristic of the great free West.</p> + +<p style='text-align:right; font-size:smaller'><i>12mo, Cloth, Illustrated. Popular Edition 50 cents.</i></p> + +<p style='font-weight:bold'>BRAND BLOTTERS</p> + +<p>A story of the Cattle Range. This story brings out the turbid life of +the frontier with all its engaging dash and vigor with a charming love +interest running through its 320 pages.</p> + +<p style='text-align:right; font-size:smaller'><i>12mo, Cloth, Illustrated. Jacket in Colors. Popular Edition 50 cents.</i></p> + +<p style='font-weight:bold'>"MAVERICKS"</p> + +<p>A tale of the western frontier, where the "rustler," whose depredations +are so keenly resented by the early settlers of the range, abounds. One +of the sweetest love stories ever told.</p> + +<p style='text-align:right; font-size:smaller'><i>12mo, Cloth, Illustrated. Popular Edition, 50 cents.</i></p> + +<p style='font-weight:bold'>A TEXAS RANGER</p> + +<p>How a member of the most dauntless border police force carried law into +the mesquit, saved the life of an innocent man after a series of +thrilling adventures, followed a fugitive to Wyoming, and then passed +through deadly peril to ultimate happiness.</p> + +<p style='text-align:right; font-size:smaller'><i>12mo, Cloth, Illustrated. Popular Edition, 50 cents.</i></p> + +<p style='font-weight:bold'>WYOMING</p> + +<p>In this vivid story of the outdoor West the author has captured the +breezy charm of "cattleland," and brings out the turbid life of the +frontier with all its engaging dash and vigor.</p> + +<p style='text-align:right; font-size:smaller'><i>12mo, Cloth, Illustrated. Popular Edition, 50 cents.</i></p> + +<p style='font-weight:bold'>RIDGWAY OF MONTANA</p> + +<p>The scene is laid in the mining centers of Montana, where politics and +mining industries are the religion of the country. The political +contest, the love scene, and the fine character drawing give this story +great strength and charm.</p> + +<p style='text-align:right; font-size:smaller'><i>12mo, Cloth, Illustrated. Popular Edition, 50 cents.</i></p> + +<p style='font-weight:bold'>BUCKY O'CONNOR</p> + +<p>Every chapter teems with wholesome, stirring adventures, replete with +the dashing spirit of the border, told with dramatic dash and absorbing +fascination of style and plot.</p> + +<p style='text-align:right; font-size:smaller'><i>12mo, Cloth, Illustrated. Popular Edition, 50 cents.</i></p> + +<hr class='major' /> + +<p class='center' style='font-weight:bold'>THREE SPLENDID BOOKS BY ALFRED HENRY LEWIS</p> + +<p style='font-weight:bold' class='center'>FARO NELL AND HER FRIENDS</p> + +<p>A new story of "Wolfville" days—the best of all. It pictures the fine +comradeship, broad understanding and simple loyalty of Faro Nell to her +friends. Here we meet again Old Monte, Dave Tutt, Cynthiana, Pet-Named +Original Sin, Dead Shot Baker, Doc Peets, Old Man Enright, Dan Boggs, +Texas and Black Jack, the rough-actioned, good-hearted men and women who +helped to make this author famous as a teller of tales of Western +frontier life.</p> + +<p style='text-align:right; font-size:smaller'><i>12mo. Cloth. Illustrated. Popular Edition. 50 Cents</i></p> + +<p style='font-weight:bold' class='center'>THE APACHES OF NEW YORK</p> + +<p>A truthful account of actual happenings in the underworld of vice and +crime in the metropolis, that gives an appalling insight into the life +of the New York criminal. It contains intimate, inside information +concerning the gang fights and the gang tyranny that has since startled +the entire world. The book embraces twelve stories of grim, dark facts +secured directly from the lips of the police and the gangsters +themselves.</p> + +<p style='font-size:smaller; text-align:right'><i>12mo. Cloth. Illustrated. Popular Edition. 50 Cents</i></p> + +<p style='font-weight:bold' class='center'>THE STORY OF PAUL JONES</p> + +<p>A wonderful historical romance. A story of the boyhood and later life of +that daring and intrepid sailor whose remains are now in America. +Thousands and tens of thousands have read it and admired it. Many +consider it one of the best books Mr. Lewis has produced.</p> + +<p style='text-align:right; font-size:smaller'><i>12mo. Cloth. Illustrated. Popular Edition. 50 Cents</i></p> + +<p class='center'>G. W. DILLINGHAM COMPANY<br /> +Publishers New York</p> + +<hr class='major' /> + +<p class='center' style='font-size:large'>Books by Edward Marshall</p> + +<p style='font-weight:bold'>BAT—An Idyl of New York</p> + +<p>"The heroine has all the charm of Thackeray's Marchioness in New York +surroundings."—<i>New York Sun</i>. "It would be hard to find a more +charming, cheerful story."—<i>New York Times</i>. "Altogether +delightful."—<i>Buffalo Express</i>. "The comedy is delicious."—<i>Sacramento +Union</i>. "It is as wholesome and fresh as the breath of +springtime."—<i>New Orleans Picayune</i>. 12mo, cloth. Illustrated. $1.00 +net.</p> + +<p style='font-weight:bold'>THE MIDDLE WALL</p> + +<p><i>The Albany Times-Union</i> says of this story of the South African diamond +mines and adventures in London, on the sea and in America: "As a story +teller Mr. Marshall cannot be improved upon, and whether one is looking +for humor, philosophy, pathos, wit, excitement, adventure or love, he +will find what he seeks, aplenty, in this capital tale." 12mo, cloth. +Illustrated. 50 cents.</p> + +<p class='center'><i>BOOKS NOVELIZED FROM GREAT PLAYS</i></p> + +<p style='font-weight:bold'>THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE</p> + +<p>From the successful play of EDGAR JAMES. Embodying a wonderful message +to both husbands and wives, it tells how a determined man, of dominating +personality and iron will, leaves a faithful wife for another woman. +12mo, cloth. Illustrated from scenes in the play. Net $1.25.</p> + +<p style='font-weight:bold'>THE WRITING ON THE WALL</p> + +<p><i>The Rocky Mountain News</i>: "This novelization of OLGA NETHERSOLE'S play +tells of Trinity Church and its tenements. It is a powerful, vital +novel." 12mo, cloth. Illustrated. 50 cents.</p> + +<p style='font-weight:bold'>THE OLD FLUTE PLAYER</p> + +<p>Based on CHARLES T. DAZEY'S play, this story won the friendship of the +country very quickly. The <i>Albany Times-Union</i>: "Charming enough to +become a classic." 12mo, cloth. Illustrated 50 cents.</p> + +<p style='font-weight:bold'>THE FAMILY</p> + +<p>Of this book (founded on the play by ROBERT HOBART DAVIS), <i>The Portland +(Oregon) Journal</i> said: "Nothing more powerful has recently been put +between the covers of a book." 12mo, cloth. Illustrated. 50 cents.</p> + +<p style='font-weight:bold'>THE SPENDTHRIFT</p> + +<p><i>The Logansport (Ind.) Journal</i>: "A tense story founded on PORTER +EMERSON BROWNE'S play, is full of tremendous situations, and preaches a +great sermon." 12mo, cloth bound, with six illustrations from scenes in +the play, 50 cents.</p> + +<p style='font-weight:bold'>IN OLD KENTUCKY</p> + +<p>Based upon CHARLES T. DAZEY'S well-known play, which has been listened +to with thrilling interest by over seven million people. "A new and +powerful novel, fascinating in its rapid action. Its teaching story is +told more elaborately and even more absorbingly than it was upon the +stage."—<i>Nashville American</i>, 12mo, cloth. Illustrated. 50 cents.</p> + +<hr class='major' /> + +<p class='center' style='font-size:large'>ALBERT ROSS' ROMANCES</p> + +<p class='center'>A NEW EDITION AT A POPULAR PRICE</p> + +<p>Albert Ross is a brilliant and wonderfully successful writer whose books +have sold far into the millions. Primarily his novels deal with the +sex-problem, but he depicts vice with an artistic touch and never makes +it unduly attractive. Gifted with a fine dramatic instinct, his +characters become living, moving human beings full of the fire and +passion of loving just as they are in real life. His stories contain all +the elements that will continue to keep him at the head of American +novelists in the number of his admirers.</p> + +<p>Mr. Ross is to be congratulated on the strength as well as the purity of +his work. It shows that he is not obliged to confine his pen to any +single theme, and that he has a good a right to be called the "American +Eugene Sue" or the "American Zola."</p> + +<p class='center' style='font-size:small'><i>12mo, cloth. Price per volume, 50 cents.</i></p> + +<table summary='booklist'> +<tr><td>Black Adonis, A</td><td>Original Sinner, An</td></tr> +<tr><td>Garston Bigamy, The</td><td>Out of Wedlock</td></tr> +<tr><td>Her Husband's Friend</td><td>Speaking of Ellen</td></tr> +<tr><td>His Foster Sister</td><td>Stranger than Fiction</td></tr> +<tr><td>His Private Character</td><td>Sugar Princess, A</td></tr> +<tr><td>In Stella's Shadow</td><td>That Gay Deceiver</td></tr> +<tr><td>Love at Seventy</td><td>Their Marriage Bond</td></tr> +<tr><td>Love Gone Astray</td><td>Thou Shalt Not</td></tr> +<tr><td>Moulding a Maiden</td><td>Thy Neighbor's Wife</td></tr> +<tr><td>Naked Truth, The</td><td>Why I'm Single</td></tr> +<tr><td>New Sensation, A</td><td>Young Fawcett's Mabel</td></tr> +<tr><td colspan='2'>Young Miss Giddy</td></tr> +</table> + +<p class='center'>G.W. DILLINGHAM CO.</p> + +<p class='center'>Publishers New York</p> + +<hr class='major' /> + +<p>"THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY" is a condensed textbook of the technical +knowledge necessary for the preparation and sale of motion picture +scenarios. More than 35,000 photoplays are produced annually in the +United States. The work of staff-writers is insufficient. Free-lance +writers have greater opportunities than ever before, for the producing +companies can not secure enough good comedies and dramas for their +needs. The first edition of this book met with unusual success. Its +author, now the Director General of Productions for the Beaux Arts Film +Corporation, is the highest paid scenario writer in the world, as well +as being a successful producing manager. Among his successes were the +scenarios for the spectacular productions: "Robin Hood," "The Squaw +Man," "The Banker's Daughter," "The Fire King," "Checkers," "The Curse +of Cocaine" and "The Kentucky Derby."</p> + +<p class='center'>WHAT THOSE WHO KNOW HAVE SAID:</p> + +<p>"In my opinion, based upon six years' experience producing motion +pictures, Mr. Eustace Hale Ball is the most capable scenario writer in +the business to-day." (Signed) W. F. <span class="smcap">Haddock</span>, Producing Director with +Edison, Eclair, All Star, and now President, Mirror Film Corporation.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Ball has thoroughly grasped present day and future possibilities of +the Moving Picture business with relation to the opportunities for real +good work by scenario writers." (Signed) P. <span class="smcap">Kimberley</span>, Managing +Director, Imperial Film Company, Ltd., London, England.</p> + +<p>"To those who wish to earn some of the money which the moving picture +folk disburse, Eustace Hale Ball proffers expert and valuable advice." +<span class="smcap">New York Times Review of Books</span>.</p> + +<p>"Ball's Art of the Photoplay puts into concrete form, with expert +simplicity, the secrets of writing photoplays which appeal to the +millions of Americans who attend the theatres and the producers can not +buy enough of such plays to satisfy the exhibitors." (Signed) <span class="smcap">Robert Lee +Macnabb</span>, National Vice-President, Motion Picture Exhibitor's League of +America.</p> + +<p>"You have succeeded in producing a clear and helpful exposition of the +subject." (Signed) <span class="smcap">Wm. R. Kane</span>, Editor of "The Editor Magazine."</p> + +<p style='font-size:smaller' class='center'><i>12 mo. Cloth bound, $1.00 Net.</i></p> + +<p class='center'>G. W. DILLINGHAM CO., Publishers NEW YORK</p> + +<hr class='major' /> + +<p class='center'> +<span style='font-size:large'>By</span><br /> +<span style='font-size:x-large'>Mrs. George Sheldon Downs</span></p> + +<p style='font-weight:bold'>Katherine's Sheaves</p> + +<p style='margin-left:4em; font-weight:bold'>A Great Novel With a Great Purpose</p> + +<p>Katherine's Sheaves is altogether delightful, a charming piece of +fiction, a beautiful romance. One must admire the book for its +characterization, its brilliant pictures of life, and its dramatic +situations, but still more for its philosophy and wisdom.</p> + +<p>The story is a dramatic one, abounding in strong situations.</p> + +<p>The plot is well conceived and carried out, the style easy and the +characters likable.</p> + +<p style='font-size:smaller' class='center'><i>12mo, Cloth, Illustrated. Popular Edition, 50 cents.</i></p> + +<p style='font-weight:bold'>Step by Step</p> + +<p>Judged as a story pure and simple, "STEP BY STEP" is altogether +delightful. But it is not merely a charming piece of fiction. Ethical in +its nature, the underlying thought shows throughout the lofty purpose +and high ideals of the author, and exhales a wholesome atmosphere, while +the element of romance pervading it is both elevated and enriched by its +purity and simplicity.</p> + +<p style='font-size:smaller' class='center'><i>12mo, Cloth, Illustrated. Popular Edition, 50 cents.</i></p> + +<p style='font-weight:bold'>Gertrude Elliot's Crucible</p> + +<p>It is a readable story, clean, wholesome, and high in moral +tone—optimistic and constructive.</p> + +<p>It has an alluring plot, and is well and skillfully worked out. The +incidents are dramatic, and therefore always striking, and the entire +romance will hold the attention of the reader.</p> + +<p style='font-size:smaller' class='center'><i>12mo, Cloth Bound, Illustrated. Popular Edition, 50 cents.</i></p> + +<p style='font-weight:bold'>Redeemed</p> + +<p>Dealing with divorce—the most vital problem in the world to-day—this +book tells how a pure-minded woman is divorced from her husband, upon a +flimsy pretext, because he wishes to marry again. How he suffers when he +learns that he has thrown away the true disinterested love of a noble +woman, and how he craves that love again, makes a vivid, forceful story +of an intensely modern significance.</p> + +<p style='font-size:smaller' class='center'><i>12mo, Cloth, Illustrated. Popular Edition, 50 cents.</i></p> + +<hr class='major' /> + +<p class='center' style='font-size:x-large'>Popular Mystery<br />Detective Stories<br /><i>by</i> Fergus Hume</p> + +<p>The very name of Fergus Hume means mystery and excitement, and his +detective stories show that he is a past-master in the art of creating +thrills and unusual situations, of baffling and elusive intricacy. +Lovers of mystery stories welcome each announcement of a new book by +this author, who is widely known on both sides of the Atlantic.</p> + +<table summary='' style='padding-right:1em'> +<tr><td>Claude Duval of '95</td><td>Peacock of Jewels, The</td></tr> +<tr><td>Coin of Edward VII, A</td><td>Rainbow Feather, The</td></tr> +<tr><td>Disappearing Eye, The</td><td>Red Money</td></tr> +<tr><td>Green Mummy, The</td><td>Red Window, The</td></tr> +<tr><td>Lost Parchment, The</td><td>Sacred Herb, The</td></tr> +<tr><td>Mandarin's Fan, The</td><td>Sealed Message, The</td></tr> +<tr><td>Mystery of a Hansom Cab, The </td><td>Secret Passage, The</td></tr> +<tr><td>Mystery Queen, The</td><td>Solitary Farm, The</td></tr> +<tr><td>Opal Serpent, The</td><td>Steel Crown, The</td></tr> +<tr><td>Pagan's Cup, The</td><td>Yellow Holly, The</td></tr> +</table> + +<p style='font-size:smaller' class='center'><i>12mo, Cloth; Popular Edition; Per volume, 50 cents</i></p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Highgrader, by William MacLeod Raine + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HIGHGRADER *** + +***** This file should be named 22583-h.htm or 22583-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/2/5/8/22583/ + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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