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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/36953-0.txt b/36953-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6470fd1 --- /dev/null +++ b/36953-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8957 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Heart of Canyon Pass, by Thomas K. Holmes + +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 Heart of Canyon Pass + +Author: Thomas K. Holmes + +Release Date: August 3, 2011 [EBook #36953] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HEART OF CANYON PASS *** + + + + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + +[Illustration: Hunt’s arms were around the girl and he held her fast.] + + + + + THE HEART OF + CANYON PASS + + By THOMAS K. HOLMES + + Author of + _“The Man From Tall Timber” etc._ + + A. L. BURT COMPANY + Publishers New York + + Published by arrangement with George Sully & Company + Printed in U. S. A. + + + + + Copyrighted, 1921 (as a serial). + + Copyright, 1921, by + GEORGE SULLY & COMPANY + + _All rights reserved_ + _Printed in U. S. A._ + + + + + CONTENTS + + CHAPTER PAGE + I. Discontent at Canyon Pass 1 + II. Discontent at Ditson Corners 18 + III. A Shadow Thrown Before 30 + IV. Philosophy Bound in Homespun 38 + V. How the Passonians Took It 46 + VI. The Approach 58 + VII. The First Trick 69 + VIII. A Flower in the Mire 78 + IX. A Beginning 91 + X. Mutterings of a Storm 99 + XI. The Storm About To Burst 111 + XII. Tolley’s Tale 122 + XIII. Plans Are Made 130 + XIV. The Great Day Arrives 141 + XV. Pep and a Little Pepper 152 + XVI. Love and Longing 161 + XVII. A Battle in a Girl’s Heart 169 + XVIII. The Shadow on Betty’s Path 177 + XIX. A Good Deal of a Man 189 + XX. Murder Will Out 197 + XXI. The Drama of a Lie 211 + XXII. A Face in the Storm 219 + XXIII. A Great Light Dawns 229 + XXIV. The Barrier Down—for a Moment 237 + XXV. Understanding 246 + XXVI. Threatening Weather 256 + XXVII. Several Conclusions 265 + XXVIII. Catastrophe 273 + XXIX. His Last Card 286 + XXX. Clearing Skies 297 + + + + +THE HEART OF CANYON PASS + + + + +CHAPTER I—DISCONTENT AT CANYON PASS + + +The bluebird was no harbinger of spring at Canyon Pass. Most of the +inhabitants had never seen that feathered songster and many had never +heard of it. Incidentally these same Passonians would not have known a +harbinger in any case, presuming possibly that it was one of those +new-fangled nipples for the hydraulic pipes at the Eureka Washings, or +something fancy that Bill Judson was selling in cans at the Three Star +Grocery. + +But spring had unmistakably arrived at Canyon Pass when those two +irrepressible pocket-hunters, Steve Siebert and Andy McCann, got +together their frayed and rusty outfits, exchanged the hard-earned money +each had toiled for during the winter over the counter of the Three Star +for supplies and loaded each his burro till the sad-eyed little brutes +almost buckled under the weight of flour, beans, salt pork, coffee, and +prospectors’ tools. + +Each ancient then mounted his moth-eaten cayuse, jerked the towline of +his objecting burro, and proceeded out of town, Steve making the ford +through the East Fork, while Andy plodded through the shallows of the +West Fork, both bound down the canyon for the desert country which they +hated with an unbelievably bitter hatred, yet which dragged the old men +back to its grim barrens as soon as the spring freshets cleared the +canyon and gulches of winter’s accumulation of snow. + +Canyon Pass was no beauty spot over which an artist might rave; nor was +the landscape surrounding it even passably attractive to the eye. Man, +in delving for nature’s treasures in the rocky headlands and along the +benches of the East and West Forks, had marred past redemption what +little beauty of form and color the rugged wedge of land at the head of +the canyon once possessed. + +But on this morning there was a soft blur of blue haze padding the sharp +outlines of the canyon walls and brooding over the higher hills. The +streams flowing on either side of the town crooned instead of foaming +boisterously in their beds, and where they joined to make Runaway River, +which followed the bed of the canyon southerly, the thunder of their +waters seemed hushed. + +It was not yet sunrise, but a pearl-gray radiance flooded the town and +canyon as far south as one could see. Lights wavered drunkenly behind +the window-panes of the all-night saloons and dance halls. This enticing +spring morning followed the dregs of another riotous night in Canyon +Pass. + +The day before had been pay day at the Eureka Washings and the Oreode +Company’s diggings and at most of the major mining prospects in the +vicinity. At noon the miners and other workmen had knocked off work, +drawn their pay, and, cleaned up and dressed in holiday attire, had +sought the amusement places of the town. From dark till dawn they had as +usual torn the town wide open like a paper sack, to quote Bill Judson, +as he stood in the doorway of his store and watched the two old desert +rats leaving the dulling merriment and drunkenness behind them as they +weaved their several ways out of sight on either bank of Runaway River. + +“They’ve been doing this for twenty years,” added Judson, pointing with +his pipe stem to the disappearing prospectors. “An’ to my knowledge and +belief ain’t neither of ’em struck a smell of paying color in all that +time.” + +“That so?” returned Smithy, his gangling clerk, coming outside to +stretch and yawn. Smithy had the look of a young man who was still in +growth and he needed, as Judson said, “all outdoors to stretch in.” + +“Say! What’s the matter with them two old sour doughs? All the time they +was buyin’ that stuff they never spoke a word to each other, and if one +of ’em caught a look from t’other he snarled like a wild tagger! They’d +have showed their teeth—both of ’em—if they’d had any left but stubs.” + +“Ain’t spoke, to my knowledge,” said the storekeeper, “Steve and Andy +ain’t, in all of these twenty years. ’Fore that they was as thick as +hasty puddin’ an’ throwed in together ev’ry spring—even steven—when they +went prospecting; comin’ back yere to Canyon Pass in the fall as happy +as a bride and groom returning from the honeymoon.” + +“What happened? What made ’em so sore on each other?” asked Smithy. + +“Don’t know. Never did know. Never could find out. ’Twas right after the +big slide. You’ve heard tell o’ that, even if you ain’t been here six +months?” + +“A thousand times,” returned Smithy in a bored tone. + +“Well, Steve and Andy was perky as blackbirds in a strawyard that +spring. ’Twas twenty years back. They hid out their camp somewhere near +town that time. I always figgered they had a good prospect below there, +in the canyon. ’Twas even reported that they took a sample of the right +stuff to the assayer’s office. But they was as close mouthed as twin +clams in the last stages of hydrophoby. + +“Then come the slide. Most of us that was yere then didn’t think of much +for a week or two but whether Canyon Pass was goin’ to be left on the +map or not. Our stake was yere, and the slide acted like a stopper in +Runaway River—like to plugged the old canyon for fair. + +“Howsumever, when the channel was more or less clear again and we could +come down off the roofs of our shacks, Steve and Andy showed up, but +from different directions, as sore at each other as two carbuncles, and +they ain’t never been knowed to speak to one another since. Won’t even +drink at the same bar. The only time they come into the Three Star +together is the morning they pull stakes for the desert.” + +Smithy yawned again. Steve Siebert and Andy McCann had now disappeared +beyond outcropping warts of rock at the foot of the canyon walls. + +Down the street from the direction of the mining shafts sunk in the +heights behind the town strode a well-proportioned young man whose +bootsoles rang on the patches of earth out of which the frost had not +yet thawed. He was cleanly shaved and clean-looking, and stood more than +six feet tall, with an air of frank assertiveness even in his carriage. +He owned a high color under the wind-tan of his countenance, sandy hair, +and brown eyes with golden flecks in them when he was amused or when he +was angry. + +And Joe Hurley was usually swayed by one emotion or the other. Now he +appeared to be amused as he came abreast of the Three Star Grocery. + +“What’s got you and Smithy up so early, Bill?” he asked. + +“Dad burn it, Joe! Don’t you know spring has came?” + +“Pshaw! I thought I heard a tree-frog last night. So Steve Siebert and +Andy McCann have lit out same as usual? We shall miss Steve at the Great +Hope.” + +“Surest thing you know, Joe. They’re on their way. And just as sociable +as usual.” Joe Hurley’s eyes flashed with the gleam of fun that made him +beloved of all who did not hate him. But before he could utter a comment +the storekeeper added: “Wasn’t you in to the Grub Stake to-night?” + +Hurley wheeled to frown suddenly at the flickering lamps of Boss +Tolley’s gambling hall and cabaret almost directly across the street. +The quick change of emotion reflected in his face betrayed the character +of the man. Hurley was given to sudden impulses, usually spurred by the +primal passions. Yet he was a strong man, too, and kept the lid on those +passions if he desired. + +“Nell’s got some new songs,” went on Judson slyly. “Right cute they are. +She certainly is some songbird, Joe. Dad burn it! She’s too good for +those roughnecks.” + +Hurley nodded slowly but did not show Judson his face at once, still +watching the pale lights of the honkytonk fighting the advancing glow of +the dawn. The storekeeper had not lived sixty-five years—thirty years of +them right here in Canyon Pass—without gaining a pretty keen insight +into human nature. He did not have to see that scowl on Joe Hurley’s +face. He knew what Joe was ruminating. + +“And ’tain’t only roughnecks that our Nell’s too good for,” pursued +Judson finally. “The pizenest snakes, they tell me, is the prettiest. +An’ kids are tickled to look at pretties. Nell’s only a kid after all.” + +“You’re right, Bill!” ejaculated the mine owner with a snap of his jaws +and his eyes sparking from no good humor. + +He glanced balefully at the Grub Stake, his face set grimly, almost +threatening. + +There were fitful strains of music from within and still some clatter of +feet and voices. Boss Tolley made it his boast that his show continued +until the last reveler left. + +The Grub Stake was a sprawling, T-shaped structure with the long bar and +gaming tables in the shank of the T, the dance hall and stage at the +rear. Beside the main entrance was the sign: “Check Your Guns and Spurs +Here,” and at the short counter presided a young woman in a sleeveless +silk jersey and kneelength satin skirt, who dealt out brass checks and +airy persiflage indiscriminately. + +The rosewood bar, behind which Boss Tolley and his three barmen sweated +at the height of the revelry, had cost a fortune to freight over the +trail to Canyon Pass. The gaudy oil painting which hung back of the bar, +to hear Boss Tolley tell it, had cost him a second fortune. + +Dick Beckworth, who was Tolley’s chief dealer at the tables of chance, +was a privileged character. He was supposed to be a “killer” with the +ladies. He dressed his long curls and heavy black mustache as carefully +as he did his sleek and slender person. Cream-colored flannel shirt, a +flowing tie, velvet jacket and broadcloth trousers tucked into +patent-leather boots, and a Mexican sombrero heavy with silver cord to +top this ensemble, he made a picture to rival the squalid painting over +the bar. + +The night had been strenuous at the tables, but the gambling fever had +now abated. Dick lolled gracefully in the armchair at his empty table +with half-closed eyes, smoking a cigarette. Around a table near the +archway between the barroom and the hall was a noisy group of miners, +but they were no longer playing. Their glasses had just been refilled at +the bar. + +The rasping chords of a hard-working male quartette beyond the archway +repeated a syncopated rhythm for the entertainment of the patrons of the +tables. + +From beneath the arch into the barroom stepped suddenly an astonishingly +brilliant figure—a figure engraved as sharply as a cameo against the +blue mist of tobacco smoke that now drifted in a thin haze throughout +the barnlike place. The group of miners about the first table roared a +greeting. + +“Nell! Nell Blossom! The blossom of Canyon Pass!” + +“Give us a song of your own, Nellie!” added one burly miner, swaying +from his seat toward her, a maudlin smile on his face. + +The girl’s smiling expression changed swiftly to one of flaring fury. +She swept past the miners and headed straight for Dick Beckworth, who +had watched the incident with a little smile flickering about his lips. +The girl’s face was still ablaze. She needed no rouge or lipstick in any +case to lend it color. + +“Dick,” she said tensely, “I hate this place!” + +“I’ve already told you I hate to see you in it,” he rejoined with +apparent frankness. “Singing and dancing for these roughnecks is far +beneath you.” + +The flame of her anger gradually waned as she gazed down into his face. +His usual calmness was somewhat ruffled by her near presence. Nell +Blossom held a certain influence over him that “Dick the Devil”—his +boasted cognomen among his admirers—was loath to acknowledge. + +But she was sweet enough and pretty enough as she stood there to stir +the most placid heart. Even the tawdry costume she wore could not +detract from her charm, the red silk blouse with the V-shaped cut at the +neck, belted velvet skirt to the tops of tiny riding-boots on tiny feet, +her clustering curls of a golden-brown color crowned by a “cowgirl” +hat—all worn as a costume in which to sing “Pony Boy,” and “Cheyenne,” +which popular hits had finally reached Canyon Pass. + +“I hate this place, Dick,” she said again, now wearily dropping into a +chair at his elbow. + +Nell Blossom possessed one of those rare complexions that remind one of +nothing so much as a ripe Alberta peach. The crimson of her cheeks was +vivid, but tinted away into the creaminess of her satin skin. Her lips +were not too red. Her nose was a nose to be proud of without being +large. Her ears were visible and like the blossoms of the dogwood tree +in texture and coloring. + +“You know how I feel, Nell,” said Dick, with a calm that belied his +heartbeats. “I’m sick of all this, too.” He gestured gracefully with the +hand that held his cigarette. A jewel sparkled on that hand. “Canyon +Pass is a dirty hole. If you say the word we’ll get out of it. I’ve made +a good stake. My rake-off has given me a full poke at last. We’ll go +away from here, and I’ll get into some paying business. I’ll never turn +a card again—for Boss Tolley or any other man. I mean it!” + +The girl was looking straight into his eyes. He met that searching gaze +as inscrutably as he had learned to endure the scrutiny of his opponent +at the poker table. + +“Do you mean it, Dick?” + +“Just that.” He nodded. “As I told you yesterday, say the word and we’ll +light out—now—this morning. You don’t know much about the world outside +of Canyon Pass, Nell, but I’ll show it to you. And I love you—love you +like the devil!” + +There was a force in his final phrase, although he did not stir in his +chair, that made her tremble. A vivid flush slowly dyed her cheeks and +throat. It passed, to leave her blue eyes humid and her lips smiling. + +“If you don’t believe me—” + +“I do,” she interrupted. “I believed you yesterday. My saddlebags are +all packed, Dick, and I’m ready just whenever you are.” + +A sudden electric tremor passed through the man’s nerves. He veiled his +eyes for a moment that she might not see what flared into them. He rose +with her. + +“Get into your riding clothes and we’ll start. I’ll meet you with my +horse in half an hour,” he said almost sternly. + +But his eyes now answered her look of gratefulness and adoration with +what she thought was a reflection of her own chaste desire. + +So it came about that two other riders left Canyon Pass on this spring +morning while the sun still lingered abed, and, crossing the West Fork +an hour behind Andy McCann, unlike him chose the wagon-track to the +summit of the canyon wall on that side of Runaway River. + +“Which way do we go, Dick? To Crescent City?” + +“South,” he returned, without looking at her. + +“We-ell. Lamberton is further but there’s a parson there, too. That’s +another reason why I’ve come to hate Canyon Pass. It isn’t decent like +other towns—or even up-to-date. It never had a church or a parson. It’s +got everything else—saloons, gambling halls, honkytonks, stores, a bank, +a hotel, a stamp mill, an express office, even a school, such as it is. +But it’s heathen—plumb heathen, Dick.” + +He smiled at her then, rather a superior smile. “It’s not the only +mining town that answers your description.” + +“I know it,” Nell rejoined. “But I want to see the other kind of towns. +Mother Tubbs says Canyon Pass ain’t got no heart, and she’s right. She +says she can’t even tell when Sunday comes, only that Sam always comes +home drunk that day. This is Sunday, Dick. It’s a good day on which to +begin a new life.” + +“Oh, life’s all right,” the gambler said easily. “Take it as you find +it, Nell.” + +They came up into the sunlight on the rim of the canyon wall. Once on +the level trail their horses broke into a canter. They could look down +at certain points into the sink of the canyon where Runaway River foamed +in its narrow channel. They spied Steve Siebert with his outfit +traveling on the river trail. McCann, of course, they could not see, for +the canyon wall on this side was almost sheer. + +Ahead, as they rode on, was the Overhang—that monstrous projection +capping the scarp of the cliff, left ages ago when the canyon was +roughed out by the glacial floods to threaten the pass below with utter +extinction if its bulk ever fell. Parts of it had fallen some twenty +years previous. This was the “big slide” which had for a time choked the +river channel with soil and rubble and threatened to flood out Canyon +Pass. + +The scar on the steep slope of the west wall down which that slide had +fallen was now masked by a hardy growth of scrubby trees and brush. But +the two old prospectors never passed the place, either going out of or +returning to Canyon Pass, without keenly studying the scar. + +Halfway up the height had been a shelf with a hollow behind it—an ideal +spot for a secret camp, for it could be observed neither from the trail +on the opposite side of the river nor from the rim of the west wall of +the canyon. Buried as this shelf had been by the slide, Steve Siebert +and Andy McCann now marked the spot—and what it hid—and then glanced +sardonically at each other across the foaming river. They snarled at +each other like a pair of toothless old wolves. The fruit of their joint +toil that lay behind that slide, one could not reach, and the other +could not compass. The secret had festered in their hearts and poisoned +the very souls of the two ancients for these twenty years. + +Above, the two in the plane of sunshine and freer air rode along the +brink of the Overhang. + +“Say!” Dick said jerkily. “Let’s not go to Lamberton—not direct.” + +“What?” + +There was a sharp note in her voice. She turned in her saddle to face +him. Her gaze narrowed. Was there after all a doubt in the very depths +of Nell’s soul about the man? + +“I know a fine place—better hotel than at Lamberton—really a nice place +to stop. We can reach it before night. Hoskins. You know?” + +He still spoke nervously. Nell’s gaze no more left his face. She said +evenly, as though her mind was quite placid again: + +“There’s no parson at Hoskins, either.” + +He darted her another side-glance. How was she taking it? Was she, after +all, going to be “sensible?” Nell was seventeen, but a woman grown. + +“Shucks, honey,” Dick said, putting out a hand to touch her for the +first time. “We’ll ride on and find a parson later. We’re in no rush. +We’re out for a grand, good time—” + +She pulled her horse across the path with a fierce jerk of the +bridle-rein, and so escaped the defilement of his touch. Her right hand +clutched the handle of her quirt, the knuckles bone-white. + +“Do you mean—you won’t marry me?” + +Dick smiled his most disarming smile, his brown eyes even twinkled. That +frank and humorous look was what had first won his advantage with Nell +Blossom. + +“Shucks, honey,” he drawled again. “Why so serious? Don’t worry about +that. I’m free to confess I’m not a marrying man. Seen too much trouble +for both parties when they are tied to one another with any silly string +of the law. It’s love that will hold us together.” + +“That’s heathen, Dick!” she exclaimed hotly. “Just as heathen as Canyon +Pass.” + +“Nonsense!” He laughed. “You’re just as safe with me, whether we’re +married or not.” + +Which might have been quite true, but Nell stared at him, her expression +as inscrutable as his own when he worked behind the green table. Dick +the Devil was a shrewd gambler, but Nell Blossom had played poker +herself ever since she could read the pips on the cards. And she had +been fighting her own battles in harsh environment and against men +almost from the same tender age. Her cold rage now sprang from the fact +that he should so mistake her character. + +“Come on, honey!” he said coaxingly. + +The quirt came up slowly; then it sang through the air. + +“You dog, you! Dick the Devil is your true name! And I thought—” + +The man, shouting an oath, dragged his mount backward. The lash +descended, missed his handsome face, but seared the horse across its +neck. + +Squealing, the animal leaped to one side—to the verge of the out-thrust +lip of the Overhang. The gambler wheeled him again, seeking to save +himself. + +“Do you want to murder me—you wildcat!” he cried angrily. + +There was a sudden crack, like the slapping of one board upon another. +Between the plunging horse and the girl a gap yawned in the earth. +Frost, the early rains, or perhaps time itself, had weakened this bit of +the Overhang. A patch no larger than a good-sized dining table broke +away and slid outward. + +The scrambling, wild-eyed horse and the shrieking, white-faced man +disappeared with it. The girl held in her own mount with a firm hand. +The flare of insane anger faded from her blue eyes. But her countenance +settled into a harsh and unlovely expression. + +Yet she slipped down from her saddle, quieted her horse with a word, and +stepped recklessly to the crumbling edge, trying to see down the face of +the cliff. + +She could mark no trace of horse or rider. She could no longer hear the +rumble of the falling débris. An icy horror gripped her. He was gone! + +Finally she drew back from the brink. She looked about at the landscape, +but there was not a human being to be seen. She slowly mounted her horse +again. + +Something besides a terrible disaster had happened here at the brink of +the Overhang. Something had happened to Nell Blossom so great, so +soul-racking, that she would never be altogether the same girl again. It +is a dreadful thing for one so young to find its love-idol shattered. + +After a little Nell started her mount, but she did not ride back toward +Canyon Pass. + + + + +CHAPTER II—DISCONTENT AT DITSON CORNERS + + +The Reverend Willett Ford Hunt read twice these closing words of the +long letter. + + ... and so, my dear Willie, to use your own way of expressing it, I + am steering straight for the devil—and enjoying the trip immensely. + + Wishing you were with me, Willie, I am, even after your rather + bitter castigation, + + Sincerely your friend, + Joe Hurley. + +He laid the missive on his desk with a full-bosomed sigh. Nor was that +sigh wholly because of the reprobate Joe. Joe’s flowers of speech did +not much ruffle the parson’s spirit. + +Joe Hurley might be gay, irresponsible, reckless, even downright wicked; +but he never could fail to be kind. Two years of close contact with the +blithe Westerner—those final two years at college before Hunt went to +the divinity school—had assured the latter that Joe Hurley owned a heart +of gold. The gold might be tarnished, but it was true metal +nevertheless. + +Hunt’s mental picture of his college friend, and never had scholastic +friendship been more astounding, could not include any great blemish of +later-developed character. It was five years since they had seen each +other. Those five years could not have made of Joe Hurley the +“roughneck” that he intimated he had become. That was Joe’s penchant for +painting with a wide brush. + +The reputation the Westerner had left behind him at college when he was +requested by a horrified governing board to depart for the sake of the +general welfare of the undergraduate body, revealed Joe’s character +unequivocally. + +When Joe had been “bounced” by the faculty he had celebrated the +occasion by giving a farewell banquet at one of the shadiest hotels in +the college town, to the wildest crowd of students he could get +together. On his own part Joe had dressed in full cowboy regalia, and as +the apex of the evening’s entertainment he had “shot up” the banquet +room, paying the bill for damages the next morning with a cheerful +smile. + +The Reverend Willett Ford Hunt remembered the occasion now with a little +shiver of apprehension. Suppose the people of Ditson Corners should ever +learn that he, their pastor, had been one of that company who had helped +Joe Hurley celebrate his dismissal from scholastic halls! + +Joe’s father, a cattleman, had left him a considerable fortune. Joe had +invested much of it in a certain mining claim called the Great Hope, for +the young fellow had been keen enough to see that the day of the small +cattleman was gone. The mine was paying a comfortable income with the +promise of doing more than that in the future, so Joe wrote. But he +wrote more—much more that was exceedingly interesting to Hunt in his +present discontented state of mind. + +He picked up the letter again to re-read a part of the third page, this +broken sentence first meeting his envious eye: + + ... and if ever there was a peach, she surely is one, Willie. + Golden-brown hair, big blue eyes, and a voice—Say! No songbird ever + had anything on Nell. If you once saw her and heard her sing, you’d + go crazy about her, old sobersides. All Canyon Pass—I mean the + men-folks—are at her feet again, now she has returned to town and is + singing in Colorado Brown’s cabaret. Sounds sort of devilish and + horrid, doesn’t it, Willie? Believe me, Nell Blossom is some girl. + But wild—say! You can’t get near her. She’s got a laugh that plays + the deuce with a man’s heart strings—accelerates the pit-a-pat of + the cardiac nerve to top-notch and then some! She’s got us all on + her string, from gray-bearded sour doughs to the half-grown grocery + clerk at the Three Star, who would commit suicide to-morrow at her + behest—believe me! + + But no man, Willie, has seemed yet to put the come hither on Nell + Blossom. She just won’t be led, coaxed, or driven. She’s as hard as + molded glass. A man-hater, if ever you heard of one. With all your + famed powers of persuasion, reverend, I’d like to make a wager that + you couldn’t mold our Nell into a pattern of the New England + virtues, such as your own prim little sister has become by this + time, I’ve no doubt. No insult to Miss Betty intended, Willie. But + our Nell—well, you’d have your hands full in trying to make her do a + thing that she did not want to do. + +The Reverend Willett Ford Hunt was stung here, not by the good-natured +raillery aimed at his own traits of character by his old college mate. +But why had Joe gone out of his way to drag Betty’s name into it? It +seemed to be a mild slur upon his sister’s character, and Hunt had an +uneasy feeling that he ought to resent it. + +Betty had met Joe Hurley but once—to Hunt’s knowledge. It was an +occasion when she had stopped at the college town on her way home from +boarding school. Hunt had met her at the station, and Joe had shown up, +too. The three of them had sought a restaurant where they ate, and Betty +had chattered like—well, just as a girl of her age and fresh from the +excitement of boarding school would chatter. When her first fear of the +big Westerner had worn off she had usurped the conversation almost +completely. Hunt had often thought since that Joe Hurley was quite +attracted by his lively sister. + +But how did Joe know that Betty had changed so? + +That his sister was not the same cheerful, brisk, chatterbox of a girl +she had been when Joe met her, Hunt quite well knew. And the change +puzzled him. + +He visualized their Aunt Prudence Mason, who had lived all her long life +in the rut of New England spinsterhood, molding more or less the +characters of the orphaned brother and sister left at an early age to +her sole care. Was Betty, here in the straitened environment of Ditson +Corners, doomed to jog along the well-beaten track Aunt Prudence had +followed? The brother shuddered as he thought of it. + +He glanced at Joe’s letter once more. A golden-haired, blue-eyed girl +who really sang—not shrieked as did Miss Pelter whose top notes in the +church choir rasped Hunt’s nerves like a cross-cut saw dragged through a +pine knot. + +There was always a quarrel of some kind in that choir—the bickerings and +heart-burnings of his volunteer church choir were perennial. + +Then, there was the feud over the Ditson pew—which branch of the +influential Ditson family should hold the chief seats in the church. +Hunt could not satisfy everybody. There was still a clique, even after +his two years’ pastorate, who let it be frankly known that they had +desired to call Bardell, instead of him, to the pulpit of the First +Church. + +These continued faultfindings and disputes were getting on Hunt’s +nerves. And they must be affecting Betty—influencing her more than he +had heretofore considered. + +This letter from Joe Hurley had come at a moment when Hunt was +desperately and completely out of tune with his environment. He had +brought to his first pastorate a modicum of enthusiasm which, during the +first year, had expanded into an earnest and purposeful determination to +do his duty as he saw it and to carry his congregation in spirit to the +heights he would achieve. + +He—and they—had risen to a certain apex of spiritual experience through +the first months of his earnest endeavor, and then the cogs had begun to +slip. Suddenly Willett Ford Hunt’s castles toppled and collapsed about +him. He found himself, half stunned, wholly mazed, wallowing in the +débris of his first church row, the renewed war over the Ditson pew. + +Hunt had extricated himself from this cataclysm with difficulty, almost +like a man lifting himself off the earth by his bootstraps. The Ditson +feud was by no means at an end even now, and it never would be ended as +long as two Ditsons of different branches of the family remained alive. +Hunt had sought to renew his own and his congregation’s spiritual life. +It was then and not until then that he discovered the fire was out. + +Oh, for a church where one might preach as one pleased, so long as one +followed the spiritual instincts aroused by right living and a true +desire to help one’s fellow men! That is what Hunt said he longed for. + +But actually what he longed for is what perhaps we all long for whether +we know it or not—appreciation. Not fulsome praise, not a mawkishly +sentimental fawning flattery. He desired to feel that the understanding +heart of the community apprehended what he wished to do and respected +his effort though he might fall short of the goal. + +There seemed to be no heart—understanding or otherwise—in Ditson +Corners. Why! A wild Western mining camp, such as Joe said Canyon Pass +was, could be no more ungrateful a soil to cultivate than this +case-hardened, hide-bound, self-centered and utterly uncharitable +Berkshire community. + +The thought—not even audibly expressed—nevertheless shocked Hunt. + +Hunt reached for the letter again. What had Joe said about there being a +field for religious endeavor in Canyon Pass? It was along in the first +part of the screed, and when he had found it he read: + + Joshing aside, Willie, I believe you might dig down to the very + heart of Canyon Pass—and I believe it has a heart. You were such a + devil of a fellow for getting at the tap-root of a subject. If + anybody can electrify the moral fiber of Canyon Pass—as some of them + say I have the business part—it will be a man like you. You could do + the “Lazarus, arise!” stunt if anybody could—make the composite + moral man of Canyon Pass get up, put on a boiled shirt, and go forth + a decent citizen. And believe me, the composite figure of the moral + man here sadly needs such an awakening. + +There was something that gripped Hunt in the rough and ready diction of +this letter—something that aroused his imagination. It brought to his +mind, too, a picture of Joe himself—a picture of both his physical and +his mental proportions. + +The Reverend Willett Ford Hunt was no pigmy himself, nor did he lack +courage and vigor. He was good to look upon, dark without being sallow, +crowned with a thick brush of dull black hair—there were some brown +lights in it—possessing good features, keen gray eyes, broad shoulders, +a hundred and eighty pounds of gristle and flesh on a perfect bony +structure, and could look over a six-barred gate before he vaulted it. +He had not allowed his spiritual experiences, neither rising nor +falling, to interfere with his gymnastics or his daily walk. + +But Joe Hurley topped Hunt by two inches, was broader, hardier, a wholly +out-of-door man. Joe was typically of the West and the wilderness. He +knew the open places and the tall timber, the mountains and the canyons, +the boisterous waters of cascade and rock-hemmed river. He was such an +entirely different being from Hunt that the latter had often wondered +why the Westerner had made such a chum and confidant of him during those +two years at college. + +And now the pastor of Ditson Corners’ First Church realized that Joe +Hurley had something that he wanted. He wished he was with Joe, out +there in that raw country. He felt that he could get nearer to mankind +out there and perhaps—he said it reverently—nearer to the God he humbly +desired to serve. He thought of Betty. + +“She needs a change as much as I do. How does Joe guess that she is +becoming exactly a prim, repressed, narrow-thinking woman, and a Martha +cumbered by many cares? She needs her chance as much as I need mine.” + +He heard Betty’s step on the porch, and in a moment she entered the +study, her hands full of those grateful mid-spring flowers, the lily of +the valley. + +Betty Hunt was not a fragile girl, but she did not possess much of that +embonpoint the Greeks considered so necessary to beauty of figure. Nor +was she angular. At least, her grace of carriage and credibly tailored +frock masked any lack of flesh. + +Slim hands she had, too,—beautiful hands, very white and with only a +faint tracery of blue veins upon them. Really, they were a musician’s +hands—pliable, light of touch, but strong. The deftness with which they +arranged the flowers suggested that she did not need vision to aid in +the task. + +Therefore she kept her gaze on Hunt. He felt it, turned, and smiled up +at her. He shook the leaves of the letter in his hand. + +“Bet,” he said, “I’ve got another letter from Joe Hurley.” + +Betty’s countenance changed in a flash. + +“Oh! That Westerner?” + +There was more than disapproval in her tone. She looked away from him +quickly. Her own gray eyes filmed. A shocked, almost terrified +expression seemed to stiffen all her face. But Hunt did not see this. + +“There is no use talking, Bet,” her brother pursued in an argumentative +way, thoughtfully staring at the letter again. “There is no use talking. +Joe has it right. We are vegetating here. Most people in towns like +this, here in the East, might honestly be classified among the _flora_ +rather than the _fauna_. We’re like rows of cabbages in a kitchen +garden.” + +“Why, Ford!” + +He grinned up at her—a suddenly recalled grimace of his boyhood. + +“There speaks the cabbage, Bet! We’re all alike—or most of us are. Here +in the old Commonwealth I mean. We’re afraid to step aside from the +rutted path, to accept a new idea; really afraid to be and live out each +his own individuality. + +“Ah! Out in this place Joe writes about——” + +He fingered the sheets of the letter again. She watched with the slow +fading of all animation from her face—just as though a veil were drawn +across it by invisible fingers. Her expression was not so much one of +disapproval—her eyes held something entirely different in their depths. +Was it fear? + +“This Canyon Pass is a real field for a man’s efforts,” burst out Hunt +with sudden exasperation. “I tell you, Bet, I feel as though my +usefulness here had evaporated. I haven’t a thing in common with these +people. Carping criticism and little else confronts me whichever way I +turn.” + +“You—you are nervous, Ford.” + +“Nerves! What right has a man like me with nerves?” he demanded hotly. + +“But, Ford—your work here?” + +“Is a failure. Oh, yes. I can see better than you do, Bet—more +clearly—that I have lost my grip on these people.” + +“Surely there are other churches in the East that would welcome a man of +your talents.” + +“Aye! Another little hard-baked community in which I shall find exactly +the elements that have made my pastorate here a failure.” + +“You are not a failure!” she cried loyally. + +“That’s nice of you, Bet. You are a mighty good sister. But I am letting +you in for a share of the very difficulties that would soon put gray in +my hair and a stone in my bosom instead of a heart.” + +“Oh, Ford!” + +“Out there—in some place like this Joe writes about—would be a new and +unplowed field. A place where a man could develop—grow, not vegetate.” + +“But—but must it necessarily be the West, Ford? I am not fond of the +West.” + +“You’ve never seen it.” + +“I’m not fond of Western people.” + +He looked at her with a dawning smile. “You’re afraid of them, Bet.” + +“Yes. I am afraid of them,” whispered his sister, turning her face away +from his gaze. “They are not our kind, Ford.” + +“That’s exactly it,” he cried, smiting the desk with the flat of his +palm. “We need to get out into the world, among people who are just as +different from ‘our kind,’ as you term them, as possible. There we can +expand. Out in Canyon Pass. I believe I could be a real help to that +community. What is it Joe says?” He glanced again at the letter before +him. “Yes! I might dig down to the very heart of Canyon Pass. Ditson +Corners has merely a pumping station to circulate the blood of the +community, patterned after the one at the reservoir on Knob Hill.” + +She did not speak again. When Hunt looked around she had stolen from the +room. + +“Poor Bet!” he muttered. “The idea of change alarms her as it might have +alarmed Aunt Prudence. Joe Hurley is right—he’s right beyond a doubt!” + + + + +CHAPTER III—A SHADOW THROWN BEFORE + + +A rider had his choice in journeying to Canyon Pass from a southerly +direction—say from Lamberton, which lies between the railroad and the +desert—of following the river trail to be deafened by the boisterous +voice of the flood, or of climbing to the high lands and there jogging +along the wagon track which finally dipped down the steeps to the ford +of the West Fork and so into the mining town. + +Spring was drifting into the background of the year. The cottonwood +leaves were the size of squirrel ears. The new fronds of the piñon had +expanded to full size and now their needles quivered in the heat of the +almost summer-like day. Joe Hurley, sitting his heavy-haunched bay, +giving as easily to the animal’s paces as a sack of meal, followed the +wagon track rather than the river trail and so came to that fork where +wheel-ruts from a westerly direction joined the road along the brink of +the canyon wall. + +A cream-colored pony came cantering along the trail from Hoskins, its +rider as gaily dressed as a Mexican vaquero—a splotch of color against +the background of the evergreens almost startling to his vision. But it +was the identity of this rider that invigorated the tone of the mining +man’s reflections. + +“Nell Blossom! The only sure-enough cure for ophthalmia! Am I going to +have the pleasure of being your escort back to Canyon Pass? It will sure +do me proud. The Passonians are honing for you, Nell.” + +“I’m going back to the Pass—yes, Mr. Hurley,” she said, pulling down her +pony to the more sedate pace of his big bay. + +“Where you been since you left us all in the lurch? There was almost a +riot at the Grub Stake when Tolley found out you had gone.” + +“Boss Tolley hasn’t got anything on me,” she said defensively. “I’d +never sing there again, anyway.” + +“Somebody said you’d lit out for the desert with Steve Siebert and Andy +McCann,” and he chuckled. “They started the same day you vamoosed.” + +“I might just as well have gone with those old desert rats. Pocket +hunting couldn’t be much worse than Hoskins.” + +“Great saltpeter! What took you to Hoskins?” exclaimed Hurley. “Where’s +your local pride? If you weren’t born at Canyon Pass, you’ve lived there +most of your life. You shouldn’t encourage a dump like Hoskins to +believe for a moment that it has greater attractions than the Pass.” + +“If I thought it might be more attractive, I learned better,” she said +shortly. + +“Mother Tubbs got a letter from you, but she wouldn’t tell us where you +were.” + +“No,” Nell said. “I didn’t want the boys riding over there and starting +a roughhouse at the Tin Can Saloon.” + +“Great saltpeter!” exclaimed Hurley again. “You don’t mean to say you +been caroling your roundelays in _that_ place?” + +“A girl has to work somewhere, and I was sick to death of the Grub +Stake.” + +“Boss Tolley is no pleasant citizen and his joint is no sweet-scented +garden spot, I admit,” Hurley agreed. “Personally I’d like to see Tolley +run out of town and the Grub Stake eliminated. But Colorado Brown has +opened a new place and is going to run it right—so he says.” + +“That’s what is bringing me back,” Nell confessed. “He got word to me by +Mother Tubbs, and he made me a better offer than Tolley ever would. But +I expect one cabaret is about like another in these roughneck towns.” + +“I don’t know about that,” the man said defensively. “We mean to try to +clean up Canyon Pass. The boys have got to have amusement. Colorado +Brown is a white man, and, if he gets the backing of the better element, +he can give a good show and sell better hootch and better grub than ever +Boss Tolley dared to.” + +“Hootch is hootch,” Nell interrupted. “It’s all bad. There’s nothing +good about a rotten egg, Mr. Hurley. And the men’s money is wasted in +all those places—plumb wasted!” + +He had been watching her closely as they talked. He had been watching +Nell closely, off and on, for several years. Like many of the other +young and unattached men of Canyon Pass, Joe Hurley had at one time +attempted to storm the fortress of Nell Blossom’s heart. Finally he had +become convinced that the girl was not for him. + +Joe Hurley neither wore his heart on his sleeve nor was he unwise enough +to anger Nell by forcing his attentions beyond that barrier she had +raised between them. His were merely the objections of any clean-minded +man when he had seen her yielding to the machinations of Dick the Devil. +Joe knew the gambler’s kind. + +He had felt no little anxiety when, with the usual spring exodus of the +two old desert rats, Steve Siebert and Andy McCann, Nell and Dick +Beckworth had likewise disappeared from the Grub Stake. Dick, of course, +had settled with Boss Tolley; he intimated that he was starting north +for the railroad at Crescent City. The hour had been so early that +nobody else had chanced to see the gambler and the girl ride away. Nell +was missed later, and all the right thinking men of the town, although +they said little, feared the worst for Nell Blossom. + +Nell had displayed at the last some little interest in Dick the Devil. +The other girls at the Grub Stake gossiped about it. + +Then came Mother Tubbs with a bona-fide letter from the girl to dam the +flood of gossip. Nell was working as usual in a cabaret. She had left +Boss Tolley because she could not stand him any longer. She was bitter +about the Grub Stake and its proprietor. And not a word in the letter +about Dick Beckworth. It was plain, even to the most suspicious, that +Dick had not gone with her after all. + +These few facts colored Joe Hurley’s thoughts as they rode along the +track. What colored Nell’s? + +When the sprightly talk lapsed between them, the girl’s face fell into +unhappy lines. She who had been as blithe as a field lark all her life +was showing to Joe Hurley for the first time a most unnatural soberness +of spirit. Her eyes, their gaze fixed straight ahead, were filmed with +remoteness that his friendly glance could not penetrate. + +Something had changed Nell Blossom. She was no longer the happy-go-lucky +girl she had been heretofore. He wondered if, after all, her affair with +Dick Beckworth was serious. + +They skirted the Overhang, their horses now at a canter. Nell suddenly +pulled in her mount at a place where a patch along the brink of the +treacherous cap had recently crumbled. + +“Looks as if there might have been a small slide,” observed Hurley +cheerfully. + +“Was—was anybody hurt?” + +“Reckon not. Just about where the big slide was years ago. There are +always bits dropping down this cliff. I tell ’em there’s bound to be +another landslip some time that will play hob with Runaway River and +maybe flood out the town again. It’s like living over a volcano.” + +Nell still looked back at the broken edge of the cliff. “Nobody missing, +then? Nobody—er—left town?” + +He laughed. “Nobody but you and old Steve and Andy McCann. Those old +desert rats lit out the same morning you left town. Hold on! I don’t +know as you know it; but Dick Beckworth went about that time. He’s gone +to Denver, so Tolley says, to deal faro at a big place there.” + +He could not see the girl’s face. As far as he knew the statement made +no impression upon her. They jogged on practically in silence until they +came to the point where the wagon-track plunged steeply to the ford of +the West Fork, and from which spot the squalid town was first visible. + +“Ugh!” Nell shuddered and glanced at Joe again. “It is such an ugly +place.” + +“Where’s your civic pride, Nell?” and the other chuckled. + +“What is there to be proud of?” was her sharp demand. + +“It’s a money-making town.” + +“Money!” + +“Quite a necessary evil, that same money,” he rejoined. “Gold is a good +foundation to build a town upon. Canyon Pass has ‘got a future in front +of it,’ as the feller said. Business is booming. Bank deposits are +increasing. Three families have bought piano-players, and there are at +least a dozen talking machines in town—besides the female citizens,” and +he laughed again. + +“All that?” in a sneering tone. “Still, the bulk of the wages from the +mines and washings are spent for drink and in gambling. The increase in +bank deposits I bet are made by the merchants and honkytonk keepers, Mr. +Hurley. Canyon Pass is prosperous—yes. But at the expense of everything +decent and everybody’s decency. Mother Tubbs has got it right. Canyon +Pass hasn’t got a heart.” + +“Oh—heart!” + +“Yes, heart. There’s neither law nor gospel, she says. Only such law as +is enforced at the muzzle of the sheriff’s gun. And as far as religion +goes—when was there ever a parson in Canyon Pass?” + +“They’re rare birds, I admit. But you needn’t blame me, Nell.” + +“I do blame you!” she exclaimed fiercely. “You’re at fault—you, and +Slickpenny Norris who runs the bank, and Bill Judson of the Three Star, +and the manager of the Oreode Company, and the other more influential +men. It is your fault that there isn’t a church and other civilized +things in Canyon Pass.” + +“Great saltpeter, Nell! You’re not wailing for a Sunday School and a sky +pilot?” + +“Me? I reckon not!” She almost spat out the scornful denial. “I’m just +telling you what your old Canyon Pass is. It’s a back number. But I’m +free to confess if a parson and a crew of psalm-singing tenderfoots came +here, I’d like enough pull my freight again—and that time for keeps! +Even Hoskins would be more endurable.” + +At this outburst Joe Hurley broke into laughter. Nell Blossom was +paradoxical—had always been. + +And yet, what Nell had said about the shortcomings of Canyon Pass stuck +in Joe Hurley’s mind. Within a few days the thought, fermenting within +him, resulted in that letter which had so interested—not to say +excited—the Reverend Willett Ford Hunt in far-away Ditson Corners. + + + + +CHAPTER IV—PHILOSOPHY BOUND IN HOMESPUN + + +“No, there ain’t no news—no news a-tall,” declared Mrs. Sam Tubbs, +comfortably rocking. “Nothing ever happens in Canyon Pass. For a right +busy town on its main street, there’s less happens in the back alleys +than in any camp I ever seen—and I seen a-plenty. + +“It’s in the back alleys o’ life, Nell, that the interesting things +happen. Folks buy and sell, and argue and scheme, and otherwise play the +fool out on the main streets. But in the alleys babies is born, and +people die, and boys and gals make love and marry. Them’s the re’lly +interesting things in life.” + +“Ugh! Love and marriage! They are the biggest fool things the world +knows anything about.” + +Mother Tubbs chuckled. It was an unctuous chuckle. It shook her great +body like a violent explosion in a jelly-bag and made the wide-armed +rocking-chair she sat in creak. + +“Sho!” she said. “I’ve heard seventeen-year-old gals say as much ’fore +now, who dandled their second young-un on their knee ’fore they was +twenty. The things we’re least sure of in this world is love and +marriage. Lightning ain’t nothin’ to ’em—nothin’! + +“Now, there’s Mr. Joe Hurley——” + +Nell started, turned on the top step of the Tubbs’ back porch, and +looked searchingly at the old woman with a frown on her brow. + +“Now, there’s Mr. Joe Hurley,” pursued Mother Tubbs placidly. “There +ain’t a thing the matter with that man but that he needs a wife.” + +“Why doesn’t he take one, then?” demanded Nell wickedly. “There are +plenty of them around here whose husbands don’t seem to care anything +about them.” + +“Like me and my Sam, heh?” put forth Mother Tubbs, still amused. “But I +reckon if Mr. Joe Hurley, or any other man, should attempt to run away +with me, Sam would go gunning for him. What they call the ‘first law of +Nater’—which is the sense of possession, not self-preservation—would +probably get to working in Sam’s mind. + +“He’d get to thinking of my flapjacks and chicken-with-fixin’s and his +bile would rise ’gainst the man—no matter who—who was enjoying them +victuals. + +“Oh, yes. Not only is the way to a man’s heart through his stomach; but +believe me, Nell, most men are like those people the Bible speaks of +‘whose god is their stomach.’” + +“Does the Bible say that, Mother Tubbs?” broke in the girl. + +“Somethin’ near to it.” + +“Then there is some sense in the Bible, isn’t there?” + +“Hush-er-you, Nell Blossom!” ejaculated the old woman sternly. “Does +seem awful that you’re such a heathen. The Bible’s plumb full of good +advice, and lovely stories, and sweet truths. I used to read it a lot +before I broke my specs. But I remember lots that I read, thanks be.” + +“I don’t care for stories,” said the girl crossly. “And I don’t know +that I believe there is a heaven,” she went on quickly. “Once you are +dead I reckon that’s all there is to it. I won’t learn any more songs +about heaven. I used to cry over them—and about folks dying. I remember +the first song Dad taught me to sing in the saloons. It used to make me +cry when I came to the verse: + + Last night as I lay on my pillow— + Last night as I lay on my bed— + Last night as I lay on my pillow, + I dreamt that my Bonnie was dead. + Bring back! Oh, bring back! + Bring back my Bonnie to me, to me—— + +It’s all stuff and nonsense!” she broke off with confidence. + +“That ain’t a hymn,” said Mother Tubbs placidly. “Hymns is different, +Nell. A good, uplifting hymn like ‘Am I a Soldier of the Cross,’ or +‘Beulah Land,’ takes you right out of yourself—bears your heart up on +wings o’ hope and helps you forget you’re only a poor, miserable worm——” + +“I’m not a worm!” interrupted Nell with vigor. “I’m as good as +anybody—as good as anybody in Canyon Pass, anyway, even if some of these +women do look down on me.” + +“Of course you are, Nell. ‘Worm’ is just a manner o’ speaking.” + +“Dad trained me to sing in these saloons, I know,” went on the girl +quickly, angrily, “because he was too weakly to use a pick and shovel. +We had to eat, and he thought he had to have drink. So I had to earn it. +But I’ve been a good girl.” + +“I never doubted it, Nell,” Mother Tubbs hastened to say. “Nobody could +doubt it that knowed you as well as I do.” She let her gaze wander over +the squalid back yards of the row of shacks of which the Tubbs’ domicile +was no better than its neighbors. “They don’t know you like I do, Nell. +You’ve lived with me for three years—all the time you was growing into a +woman, as ye might say. You hafter do what you do, and I don’t ’low when +we are forced into a job, no matter what it is, that it’s counted +against us as a sin.” + +Nell flashed the placid old woman another glance. There was something +hidden behind that look—of late there was something secretive in all +Nell Blossom said or did. Did Mother Tubbs understand that this was so? +Was she, in her rude but kindly way, offering a sympathy that she feared +to put into audible speech for fear of offending the proud girl? + +The latter suddenly laughed, but it was not the songbird’s note her +voice expressed. There was something harsh—something scornful—in it. + +“I reckon I could get away with murder, and you’d say I was all right, +Mother Tubbs,” she declared. + +“Well, mebbe,” the old woman admitted, her eyes twinkling. + +“Suppose—” said Nell slowly, her face turned away again, “suppose a +party was the cause of another’s death—even if he deserved it—but didn’t +mean just that—suppose, anyway, what you did caused a man’s death, for +whatever reason, although unintended? Would it be a sin, Mother Tubbs?” + +She might have been reflecting upon a quite casual supposition for all +her tone and manner betrayed. Just how wise Mother Tubbs was—just how +far-seeing—no human soul could know. The old woman had seen much and +learned much during her long journey through a very rough and wicked +world. + +“I tell you, Nell,” Mother Tubbs observed, “it’s all according to what’s +in our hearts, I reckon. If what we done caused a party to die, and we +had death in our heart when we done the thing that killed him, I reckon +it would be a sin. No getting around that. For we can’t take God’s +duties into our hands and punish even the wickedest man with death—like +we’d crunch a black beetle under our bootsole. ‘Vengeance is Mine; I +will repay, saith the Lord.’” She repeated the phrase with reverence. +“No, sin is sin. And because a party deserves to be killed, in our +opinion, don’t excuse our killing him.” + +Nell was quite still for a minute. Then she shrugged her shoulders. + +“Humph!” she said briskly. “I don’t think much of your religion, Mother +Tubbs. No, I don’t.” + +Mother Tubbs began to croon: + + It’s the old-style religion, + The old-style religion, + The old-style religion, + That gets you on your way. + ’Twas good enough for Moses, + Good enough for Moses— + The old-style religion, + That gets you on your way. + +“It ain’t no new-fangled religion, Nell. But it’s comforting——” + +“It wouldn’t comfort me none,” answered the girl. “I reckon it ain’t +religion—and a sky pilot—that Canyon Pass needs after all. If we’d just +run about fifty of these tramps out of town—and Boss Tolley and his +gang—we could get along without psalm-singing and such flubdubbery.” + +“You ain’t talking like you used to, Nell,” said the old woman, +observing her curiously. + +“I hadn’t thought so much about it. Religion is too soft. These +roughnecks would ride right over a parson and—and that kind. Now, +wouldn’t they?” + +“Not altogether. I expect they’d try—at first. But if a man had enough +grace in him, he’d stand up against ’em.” + +“He’d better have backbone.” + +“Same thing,” chuckled Mother Tubbs. “Same thing. It takes the grace of +God to stiffen a man’s backbone—I tell you true. I hope this parson Mr. +Joe Hurley talks about has got plenty of grace.” + +“Who—what?” gasped the girl. “What parson?” + +“Well, now! That is a gob o’ news. But I thought you must o’ heard +it—over to Colorado Brown’s, or somewhere—the way you was talkin’. This +parson is a friend of Mr. Joe Hurley, and he wants to get him out yere.” + +“From the East?” + +“Yeppy. Mr. Joe says he went to school with him. And he’s some +preacher.” + +“What do you think o’ that!” ejaculated Nell. “Mr. Hurley didn’t say +anything to me about it the day we rode into the Pass together.” + +“I reckon not. This has all been hatched up since then.” + +“But, Mother Tubbs!” cried the girl. “You don’t expect any tenderfoot +parson can come in here and make over Canyon Pass?” + +“I reckon not. We folks have got to make ourselves over. But we need a +leader—we need a Shower of the Way. We’ve lost our eyesight—the best of +us—when it comes to seeing God’s ways. My soul! I couldn’t even raise a +prayer in conference meeting no more. But I used to go reg’lar when I +was a gal—played the melodeon—led the singin’—and often got down on my +knees in public and raised a prayer.” + +“Humph!” scoffed the girl. “If God answered prayer, I bet you prayed +over Sam enough to have cured him of getting drunk forty times over!” + +“I don’t know—I don’t know,” returned Mother Tubbs thoughtfully. “I been +thinking lately that, mebbe when I was praying to God to save Sam from +his sins, I was cursing Sam for his meanness! I ain’t got as sweet a +disposition as I might have, Nell.” + +“Oh, yes you have, Mother Tubbs!” exclaimed Nell, and suddenly jumped up +to kiss the old woman warmly. “You’re a dear, sweet old thing!” + +“Well, now,” rejoined Mother Tubbs complacently, “I ought to purr like +any old tabby-cat for that.” + + + + +CHAPTER V—HOW THE PASSONIANS TOOK IT + + +“Well,” observed Bill Judson oracularly, “it’s about time for something +new to break in Canyon Pass. About once in so often even a +dead-an’-alive camp like this yere has got to feel the bump of progress +from the train behind. Otherwise we’d stay stalled till Gabriel’s +trump.” + +He spoke to Smithy, his single clerk at the Three Star Grocery. He had +to speak to Smithy, or to the circumambient air, for nobody but the +gangling clerk was within hearing. They lounged on the store porch in +the middle of the afternoon, and the only other thing alive on the main +street of Canyon Pass was a wandering burro browsing on the tufts of +grass edging the shallow gutters. + +“I don’t see as Canyon Pass has got to be bumped by a gospel sharp to +wake it up,” complained Smithy, stretching his arms as though they were +elastic. “Yahhoo! Well, he’ll have a sweet time here, Mr. Judson.” + +“I dunno,” said the storekeeper reflectively. “For my part I feel like I +favored it.” + +“’Cause it’s something new?” + +“’Cause it’s something needed. I ain’t one of those fellers that run +after every new thing just because it is new. But I’m for progress. I +want to see the Pass get ahead. Crescent City and Lamberton have both +got churches and parsons.” + +“And they’ve got railroads,” put in Smithy, making a good point. “Canyon +Pass needs the railroad more’n it does a parson.” + +“Son,” proclaimed Judson, “before Canyon Pass can get a railroad +connection, mountains have got to be moved and the meanest stretch of +desert that ever spawned lizards, sidewinders and cacti, and produce in +their places about five hundred square mile of irrigated farmland to pay +for spiking the rails to the sleepers. See?” + +“Well, the farms might come,” declared Smithy defensively. + +“Sure. So might Christmas come at Fourth o’ July. But we ain’t never +celebrated the two holidays together yet. No, sir. To irrigate the edge +of that desert even, a dam would have to be built across the southern +outlet of the canyon, and that would back the water up yere in freshet +season till the roof of my shack would be so deep under the surface that +about all I could properly keep in stock would be perch and rainbow +trout. + +“They ain’t building branch railroads no more to mining camps like +Canyon Pass. That’s why we all chipped in for the stamp mill and the +cyanide plant. Nope. We’ll freight in our supplies with mules and +communicate with the more effete centers of civilization by stagecoach +for some time to come I reckon. + +“That being the case we got to uplift ourselves without the help of the +iron horse, as the feller said. And having a church and a parson is +uplifting.” + +“Nobody ain’t talked very brash about a church.” + +“Parson comes first. Naturally. Of course this friend of Joe Hurley is +only coming on a visit at first.” + +“He’ll have a sweet visit here,” repeated Smithy. + +“That’s according,” said Judson. “We got to be hospitable. If a judge, +or a senator, or a school teacher, or even a drummer sellin’ fishin’ +tackle, came yere we’d feel like we wanted to show him the town’s best +side. Why not this parson?” + +“Huh! A drummer don’t try to convert us and innovate psalm-singing and +such,” grumbled Smithy. + +“Son,” drawled Judson, his eyes twinkling under his bushy brows, “you’re +convicted of sin right now. You’re scare’t of this parson—and that’s the +trouble with most of you fellers who are raising a yawp against progress +as represented by this Reverend Hunt.” + +“’Taint only us fellers,” grumbled Smithy. “Some of the womenfolk ain’t +pleased. Say! Nell says she don’t want no black-coated parson in this +camp. Says it would give her the willies, so she couldn’t sing.” + +It was an indisputable fact—Joe Hurley himself had discovered it—that +the Passonians were divided upon the matter of the expected coming of +the Reverend Willett Ford Hunt. The sheep and the goats that had +heretofore milled together in a general herd, were dividing upon +strictly religious lines. Joe was somewhat surprised. Some of the very +people he had presumed would welcome the innovation, were suspicious of +it. + +Mr. Robertson Norris, “Slickpenny” Norris was his undignified +appellation, became quite red of face and beat rather a futile fist upon +the banking counter as he gave his opinion to Joe Hurley. Norris was a +puny-looking, string-bean sort of man. The height of rage could not have +made his appearance impressive. + +“Joe Hurley, you are a director of this bank, and your last statement of +the Great Hope shows that you are a good mining man. I find on most +subjects you display good sense. But on this question you’re all +wrong—all wrong!” + +“I don’t get you—I don’t get you at all,” drawled Hurley. “A moral man +like you, Norris, I reckoned would welcome the idea of having a parson +in the town.” + +“I have no quarrel with parsons—none at all, Joe,” declared the banker. +“But Canyon Pass is in no present shape—financially, I mean—to +contemplate the building of a church edifice. A church is something you +can’t tax, and it brings in absolutely no revenue to the town. It’s not +an asset, but a liability, and the Pass can’t afford any such luxuries +at this time.” + +“Great saltpeter!” + +“Listen to me, Joe Hurley! I’ve advocated proper town improvements, even +when they take the skin off my own nose, and always will. I am strong +for Main Street being paved and sidewalks laid, though ’twould cost me a +pretty penny. We ought to set out trees. Them oil lamps on wooden posts +are a disgrace. I’d make every merchant paint the front of his buildings +on Main Street once a year, by law.” + +“Well! What’s the matter with a church?” demanded Hurley. “That is, if +we get that far.” + +“It’s absolutely no use. If one is built it won’t be nothing but a +shack. It won’t add anything to the importance of the town. No, I don’t +approve. I’m disappointed in you, Joe.” + +“All right—all right!” cried Joe in some heat. “But I’m not disappointed +in you, old-timer. Great saltpeter! I wonder what you did before you +drifted into Canyon Pass that a parson and religion are likely to bring +fresh into your memory.” + +With this backhand slap at the banker, the young man went out. It was +rather odd that Joe Hurley, like Bill Judson, should suspect the +Passonians of the same secret reason for not desiring a spiritual +refreshment of the town. But then, both the storekeeper and the owner of +the Great Hope were observant of human nature and knew Canyon Pass and +its inhabitants very well. + +Joe Hurley’s proposal was rattling the dry bones. If he saw two men +conversing on the street, with both their arms and whiskers waving in +the breeze, he might be sure the topic under discussion was the coming +of “that gospel-sharp Joe Hurley’s sicked on to us.” + +If two housewives met in midflight between store and store in the course +of a forenoon’s shopping, the principal subject of gossip was bound to +be the possibility of a parson settling in Canyon Pass. Nor did the +feminine opinion always march with that of Mother Tubbs. + +In spite of the emancipation of the sex and its introduction to the high +office of the ballot, the women of the mining town were—like women +everywhere—considerably influenced by the expressed opinions of their +husbands, brothers, and sons. If Charlie Raidlaw, who dealt faro for +Boss Tolley, or Phin Shattuck, one of Colorado Brown’s “gentlemanly +mixers,” gave it as his opinion that a white-liveried, lily-handed +parson was going to be a pest in the town and sure to hurt business, +Mrs. Charlie and Sue Shattuck, Phin’s sister, were pretty sure to scout +the idea that a parson in the Pass would be any improvement. + +“It’s needed,” Rosabell Pickett announced with conviction. Rosabell +played the piano in the Grub Stake, painted her face like a Piute +Indian, dressed as gaudily as a circus poster, and was the only employee +Boss Tolley had who really was not afraid of him. In fact, Rosabell was +not afraid of any man and had small respect for most; she was frank in +saying so. A girl can be a piano player in a honkytonk and be long on +self-respect. Rosabell approved of herself—quite. + +“It’s needed,” repeated Rosabell. “I wish he’d preach in the street out +there, just stir up the people till they was with him, every one, and +then march in here with an ax and smash every hootch bottle behind your +bar, Tolley—that’s what I wish.” + +“You’re crazy, Rosie!” cried the proprietor of the Grub Stake. “I’d +hafter go a-gunnin’ for any man that tried to smash up my business +thataway, and that wouldn’t make the Grub Stake friends. You oughtn’t to +bite the hand that feeds you, Rosie. If it wasn’t for the Grub Stake—and +me—you wouldn’t be wearin’ rhinestone shoebuckles.” + +“Is that so?” countered the young woman. “You needn’t worry none about +my biting your hand ’nless you keep it washed oftener than is your +present habit. And I want you to know that I don’t sell my opinions when +I take the Grub Stake’s pay-envelope—not much!” + +“Well, I wanter see that dratted parson come in yere!” said Tolley +blusteringly. + +“He won’t come alone,” put in Hurley, who had been listening at the bar +to the argument. + +“Huh?” + +“I say he won’t come in here alone. I might as well serve notice here +and now that this Parson Hunt is a friend of mine. I don’t never aim to +throw a friend down or fail him when he gets into a jam. If he comes in +here—for any purpose, Tolley—I’ll likely be with him.” + +“You keep him out o’ yere! You keep him out!” blustered the other. “We +don’t want no sky pilots here in the Pass. Anyway, I won’t have ’em in +the Grub Stake.” + +A burly fellow in overalls and riding boots broke in. He had already +sampled Tolley’s red-eye more deeply than was wise. + +“You say the word, boss,” he growled, “and we’ll run the preacher out o’ +town.” + +Joe Hurley looked at the ruffian coldly. “You won’t run anybody out of +town, Hicks—not any,” the mine owner said. “But I’ll tell you something +that may be worth your attention. If Canyon Pass ever gets up on its +hind legs and reares and starts to run certain tramps and ne’er-do-wells +out of town, I’m ready to lay a bet with any man that you’ll be right up +in the forefront of them that are chased out. Get me?” + +Hicks, scowling, dropped his hand to the gunbutt peeping above the +waistband of his overalls. Joe Hurley did not flicker an eyelash nor +move a finger. Finally Hicks lurched away with an oath and went out +through the swinging doors. + +“And that’s that,” said Rosabell briskly, cutting the tense chord of +silence. “I always did say the more of a boozer a man is, the quicker +he’ll take water. I hope your friend Mr. Hunt, Joe, has got backbone +same as you have. Is he an old gentleman?” + +“Not so you’d notice it,” replied Hurley with a sudden grin. + +He remained awhile to bandy repartee with Rosabell and some of the other +idlers. But Boss Tolley slipped out of the honkytonk, although he did +not follow Hicks. + +Mulligan Lane ran at the rear of the stores, saloons, and other +amusement places facing this side of Main Street. Colorado Brown’s +cabaret was not far from Tolley’s rear door. It was dusk of rather a +sultry day—a day that had forecast the heat of the approaching summer. + +Tolley lounged under the withered cottonwood behind Brown’s +dance-pavilion. The sign of the flood’s highwater mark—that flood of +twenty years before—had been cut by some idle knifeblade deep into the +bole of the tree high over Tolley’s head, and he was a tall man. A +sallow-faced, bony giant of a man was Tolley, hairy and brawny, without +a redeeming feature in his cruel countenance. Had he not possessed, in +the memorable words of Bill Judson, “a wishbone where his backbone +should have been,” Boss Tolley would have been a very dangerous man. +Lacking personal courage he depended upon the backing of men like Hicks +and his bouncer, Macpherson. + +He slouched now under the tree and waited—a sullen lump of a figure +whose dark garments blended with the shadowy trunk as the night fell. +The small figure coming up the slope of the lane approached the back +door of Colorado Brown’s place without seeing the man until almost +within arm’s length. + +“Hey, Nell!” She started, looked up, stepped back a pace. “Don’t be +scare’t of me.” + +“Don’t flatter yourself, Tolley,” replied the girl curtly. + +“I want to speak with you.” + +“I don’t want to speak to you.” + +“Say—listen! You ain’t treating me right. You walked out and left me +flat. You didn’t even ask me for a raise. How’d you know I wouldn’t give +you as much as Brown does?” + +“I didn’t want to know. I got through. You didn’t have any hold on me, +Tolley.” + +“Mebbe not. Mebbe I have. You better listen,” for the girl was turning +scornfully away. “You and Dick played it low down on me.” + +Now she gave him her full attention. It was so dark under the tree that +he could not see her face clearly, but he knew some sudden emotion shook +her. To himself he grinned. + +“I got to admit my losing you and Dick has put a crimp in the Grub +Stake’s business. You was my best performer, and Dick Beckworth was the +best card-sharp I had. Looker here! You come back to the Grub Stake +and—and I won’t say nothing more.” + +“What do you mean?” She had almost instantly gained control of herself. +“You can say all you like. I am never going to sing in your joint +again.” + +“You ain’t?” + +“No.” + +“You better think again.” His voice was grim, menacing. “I can say +something you won’t like to hear.” + +“Say it.” She spat the command out as boldly as was her usual speech; +but in her heart sudden fear fluttered like a netted bird. + +“I been tellin’ them Dick Beckworth lit out for Crescent City, and that +I heard later he was dealing ’em in Denver.” + +“Dick Beckworth?” gasped the girl. + +“Yeppy. I told ’em that. But I know derned well he didn’t ride north +that day——” + +“Why do you speak to me of Dick Beckworth?” + +She tried to say it boldly, calmly. She stared at him in the dusk, her +figure tense. He could see her blue eyes gleam like twin sapphires. + +“I’m telling you. Listen,” whispered Tolley hoarsely. “I could show ’em +the bones of Dick’s hoss in the gravel below the Overhang—right at the +edge of Runaway River. I got his saddle right now in my big safe. What +do you say to that?” + +“Dick——” + +“I reckon you know how the hoss and the saddle went over the cliff. And +Dick was with ’em. He wasn’t with ’em when I raked out the saddle. Dick +had gone to some place a dern sight more distant than Crescent City—nor +yet Denver.” + +She was silent. He could hear her quick, labored breathing. Satisfaction +fired all the mean soul of the man. + +“You think it over, Nell.” + +He turned and lurched heavily away. The girl stood rooted to the place, +more shaken, more terrified, than even Boss Tolley suspected. He was out +of sight before she gained strength to move. + + + + +CHAPTER VI—THE APPROACH + + +In fairylike traceries the tiny drops of a mist-like rain embroidered +the broad pane of the Pullman. Betty Hunt gazed through this at the +flying fields and woods, the panorama of the railroad fences, and the +still nearer blur of telegraph poles with that hopeless feeling a +sentenced prisoner must have as he journeys toward the prison pen. + +Everything she cared for save her brother, everything she knew and that +was familiar to her daily life, every object of her thought and +interest, was being left behind by the onrush of the train. Time, with a +big besom, was sweeping her quiet past into the discard—she felt it, she +knew it! They would never go back to Ditson Corners again, or to Amberly +where they had lived as children with Aunt Prudence or to any similar +sanctuary. + +That was what Betty had most longed for since her last term at boarding +school, which had ended for her so abruptly with the death of her Aunt +Prudence Mason. Her last previous journey by train had been that somber +one to the funeral. When Betty and her brother had later moved to the +Ditson Corners’ parsonage they had done so by motor. + +The drumming of the wheels over the rail-joints kept time with the +swiftly flying thoughts of the girl. She lay in the corner of the broad, +tan plush seat like a crumpled flower that had been carelessly flung +there. Thoughts of that last train journey seared her mind in hot +flashes, as summer lightnings play about the horizon at dusk. + +First one thing, then another, she glimpsed—mere jottings of the +happenings that had gone before the hurried good-byes at school and the +anxious trip homeward. These remembrances now were like the projection +of a broken film upon the moving picture screen. + +And those trying, anxious weeks which followed the funeral while Ford +was completing his divinity course and received his ordination and which +came to an end with his selection as pastor of the First Church at +Ditson Corners! All through these weeks was the dull, miserable pain of +disillusion and horror that Betty must keep to herself. She could not +tell Ford. She could tell nobody. What had happened during the last few +weeks at school was a secret that must be buried—buried in her mind and +heart as deeply as Aunt Prudence was buried under the flowering New +England sod. + +Betty, with her secret, was like a hurt animal that hides away to die or +recover of its wound as nature may provide. She could not die. She knew +that, of course, from the first. Time, she felt, would never erase the +scar upon her soul; but the wound itself must heal. + +All that—that which was now such a horror in her thought—she had hoped +to bury deeper as time passed. She had devoted herself to her brother’s +needs. She had made his comfort her constant care. Busy mind and busy +hands were her salvation from the gnawing regret for that secret +happening that she believed must wither all her life. + +Now this sudden and unlooked for change had come to shake up all her +fragile plans like the shifting of a kaleidoscope. They were going West, +toward the land she hated, toward people whom, she told herself, she had +every reason to suspect and fear. Why had Ford kept up his +correspondence with that Joe Hurley? Betty did not blame her brother for +wishing to get away from Ditson Corners. But why need it have been that +Westerner who offered the soul-sore minister the refuge that he so +gladly accepted? + +Betty, without a clear explanation, had no reason to oppose to Hunt’s +desire for a change that would satisfy him. And such explanation she +would have died rather than have given him! She was swept on toward the +West, toward whatever fate had in store for her, like a chip upon a +current that could not be stemmed. + +Aunt Prudence had left her money—conservatively invested—to Betty; but +she was not to touch the principal until she was thirty. “If the girl +marries before that age, no shiftless man can get it away from her,” had +been the spinster’s frank statement in her will. “If she is foolish +enough to marry after that age, it is to be hoped she will then have +sense at least regarding money matters.” The brother had a small nest +egg left from his father’s estate after paying his college and divinity +school expenses. + +So they were not wholly dependent upon Hunt’s salary. He could afford to +take a vacation, and it was on this ground—the need of rest—that he had +resigned from the pulpit of Ditson Corners’ First Church. They had left +some really good friends behind them in the little Berkshire town—some +who truly appreciated the young minister. But the clique against him had +shown its activity much too promptly to salve Hunt’s pride. His +resignation had been accepted without question, and he had remained only +to see Bardell established in his place. + +Betty condemned herself that she could not enter whole-heartedly into +Hunt’s high expectations of the new field that lay before him. It was +adventure—high adventure—to his mind. And why should a parson not long +for a bigger life and broader development as well as another healthy +man? + +He was going to Canyon Pass without a penny being guaranteed him. Joe +Hurley urged him to come; but he told him frankly that there would be +opposition. Certain Passonians would not welcome a parson or the +establishment of religious worship. + +But this opposition was that of the enemy. The Reverend Willett Ford +Hunt was not afraid of the devil in an open fight. Opposition in the +church itself was what had conquered him at Ditson Corners. Let the +phalanxes of wickedness confront him at Canyon Pass, he would stand +against them! + +Betty saw him coming back down the aisle of the car, smiling broadly, a +handsome, muscular figure of a man. He did not look the cleric. She had +been so used to seeing him in the black frock-coat and immaculate white +collar that she was at first rather shocked when he had donned another +suit to travel in. + +He was almost boyish looking. He was a big man, and she believed him +capable of big things. She could almost wish he had selected some other +road in life—although that thought was shocking to her, too. Ford might +well have been a business man, an engineer, a banker, a promoter. +Betty’s ideas were somewhat vague about business life; but she felt sure +Ford would have shone in any line. She was a loyal sister. + +She shook herself out of the fog of her own thoughts and smiled up at +him. + +“Met a man in the smoking room who knows that country about Canyon Pass +like a book, Bet,” Hunt said, dropping down beside her. “It really is a +part of the last frontier. We shall always be a pioneer people, we +Americans. There is something in the raw places of the earth that +intrigues us all—save the saps. And sap, even, hardens in such an +environment as this we are bound for.” + +“I hope you will not be disappointed, Ford.” + +“Disappointed? Of course I shall be disappointed and heart-sick and +soul-weary. But I believe my efforts will not be narrowed and +circumscribed and bound down by formalism and caste. As Joe says, I +won’t be ‘throwed and hog-tied.’ The old-time revivalists used to urge +their converts to ‘get liberty.’ I’ll get liberty out there, I feel +sure, in Canyon Pass.” + +She could say nothing to dash his enthusiasm. It was too late for that +now, in any case. Betty even tried to smile. But her face felt as stiff +as though it were like to crack in the process. + +“All that territory of which Canyon Pass is the heart,” pursued Hunt, +“has been phenomenally rich in ore in past time. They have to comb the +mines and sweep the hydraulic-washed benches very scientifically now to +make the game pay. Yet Canyon Pass is distinctly a mining town and +always must be. + +“My new acquaintance says it is really ‘wild and woolly.’” He smiled +more broadly. “I fancy it is all Joe said it is. Crude, rude, +roughneck—but honest. If I can dig down to the honest heart of Canyon +Pass, Bet, I shall succeed. We’ll not worry about first impressions, or +the lack of super-civilized conveniences, or the fact that men don’t +often shave, and the women wear their hair untidily. Of course, I’ll +make you as comfortable as possible——” + +“I can stand whatever you can, Ford,” she interrupted with brisk +conviction. + +“Well,” with a sigh of relief, “that’s fine. Oh, Bet! This is the life +we’re going to. I am sure you will be happier when you once get a taste +of it.” + +But she made no reply. + + * * * * * + +When the two mountain-hogs, drawing and pushing the trans-continental +train up the grade, ground to a brief stop at Crescent City, Betty Hunt +was surprised to see brick office buildings, street cars, several +taxi-cabs at the station, paved streets, and the business bustle of a +Western city which always impresses the stranger with the idea that the +place is commercially much more important than it actually is. + +“This—this cannot be Canyon Pass?” she stammered to Hunt. + +“No.” He laughed. “But here’s Joe Hurley—bless him! Joe!” + +He shouted it heartily before dropping off the car step and turning to +help Betty. But Joe Hurley strode across the platform and playfully +shouldered the minister aside. + +“Your servant, Miss Betty!” the Westerner cried, sweeping off his +broad-brimmed hat in a not ungraceful bow. + +The girl from the East floated off the step into his arms. Joe set her +as lightly as a thistle-down upon the platform and somehow found her +free hand. + +“When Willie, here, told me you would come with him, Miss Betty, I +promised the boys at the Great Hope a holiday when you arrived. Great +saltpeter!” he added, stepping off to admire her from her rippling, +bistered hair to her silk stockinged ankles. “You sure will make the +boys sit up and take notice!” + +Here Hunt, having relieved himself of the hand-bags, got hold of +Hurley’s hand and began pumping. The two young men looked into each +other’s eyes over that handclasp. They had little to say, but much to +feel. Betty sighed as she looked on. Her last hope of quick escape from +the West went with that sigh. The handclasp and the look were like an +oath between the two young men to stand by each other. + +“Well, old sobersides!” said Joe. + +“Same old Joe, aren’t you?” rejoined the minister. + +“Come on. We’ll get your bags into a taxi and go up to the hotel,” +Hurley said briskly. “I got rooms for you. We can’t go on to the Pass +till eight o’clock to-morrow morning.” + +“Is there but one train a day, Mr. Hurley?” Betty asked as he helped her +into the cab. + +“To Canyon Pass? Ain’t ever been one yet,” and he chuckled. “We go over +with Lizard Dan and the mail. Some day, when the roads are fixed up, we +may get motor service. Until then, a six-mule stagecoach has to serve.” + +“Oh!” + +Hunt’s eyes twinkled. “Break it to her gently, Joe,” he advised. “Bet is +prepared to be very much shocked, I know. This frontier life is going to +be an eye-opener for her.” + +“‘Frontier life!’” snorted Hurley. “Why, we’re plumb civilized. Bill +Judson has laid in a stock of near-silk hosiery and shirts with pleated +bosoms. Wait till you see some of the boys in holiday rig. Knock your +eye out, when it comes to style.” + +Betty smiled. She did not mind being laughed at. Besides, the modern +appearance of Crescent City had somewhat relieved her apprehension. Even +the hotel was not bad. Their rooms were cheerful and clean, so she could +excuse the brand-new, shiny oak furniture and the garish brass beds. + +She did not dislike Joe Hurley—not really. It was only his influence +over Ford that she observed with a somewhat jealous eye. Although the +mining man seldom addressed her brother seriously, she realized that he +was fond of Ford. The latter was much the stronger character of the +two—she was sure of that. He would never be overborne in any essential +thing by the lighter-minded Hurley. But Ford admired the latter so much +that Betty felt her brother was likely to give heed to Hurley’s advice +in most matters connected with this new and strange environment to which +they had come. + +“Bet is scared of the West and of you Westerners,” Hunt said lightly. “I +don’t know but what she expected you to have sprouted horns since she +saw you before, Joe.” + +“Shucks!” chuckled the other. “We’re mostly born with ’em out here, Miss +Betty. But they de-horn us before they let us run loose out o’ the +branding pens. And remember, I spent two years in the effete East.” + +“It never touched you,” and Hunt laughed. “You’re just as wild and +woolly as ever.” + +The girl noted that Hurley was thoughtful of their every comfort. He +showed them the best of the town that day; but in the evening they +rested at the hotel and talked. The two men conversed while they smoked +in Hunt’s room, with the door opened into Betty’s. She heard the murmur +of their voices as she sat by her darkened window and looked out into +the electrically lighted main street of Crescent City. + +She was not at all thrilled by the novelty of the situation. She was +only troubled. + + * * * * * + + +Those strangers passing by! She saw a face in the throng but seldom as +the street lights flickered upon it. And always she was fearfully +expectant of seeing—What? Whom? She shuddered. + + + + +CHAPTER VII—THE FIRST TRICK + + +The high-springed stagecoach lurched drunkenly over the trail that wound +through a valley Betty thought gnomes might have hewn out when the world +was young. Barren, riven rock, gaunt, stunted trees, painted cliffs +hazed by distance, all added to a prospect that fell far short in the +Eastern girl’s opinion of being picturesque. + +Rather, it was just what her brother had termed this Western +country—raw. Betty did not like any rude thing. She shrank instinctively +from anything crude and unfinished. + +The three—herself, her brother, and Joe Hurley—occupied the seat on the +roof of the plunging coach just behind the driver. “Lizard Dan” was an +uncouth individual both in speech and appearance. He was bewhiskered, +overalled, wore broken boots and an enormous slouched hat, and his hands +were so grimy that Betty shuddered at them, although they so skillfully +handled the reins over the backs of six frisky driving-mules. + +Lizard Dan, Hurley told the Easterners, had gained his nickname when he +was a pocket-hunter in a now far-distant day. He had been lost in the +desert at one time and swore when he came out that he had existed by +eating _Crotaphytus Wislizeni_ roasted over a fire of dry cacti—the +succulence of which saurian is much doubted by the Western white man, +although it is a small brother of the South American iguana, there +considered a delicacy. + +However, Dan acquired a nickname and such a fear of the desert thereby +that he became the one known specimen of the completely cured desert +rat. He never went prospecting again, but instead drove the stage +between Crescent City and Canyon Pass. + +“The boys expecting us at the Pass to-day, Dan?” Joe Hurley had asked +early in the journey. + +“Youbetcha!” + +“Got your gun loaded?” + +Dan kicked the heavy double-barreled shotgun at his feet and replied +again: + +“Youbetcha!” + +“Do—do wild animals infest the road?” Betty had asked stammeringly. + +“Not much,” said Hurley. “But Dan carries a heap of registered mail in +which wild men, rather than wild animals, might be interested.” + +“Youbetcha!” agreed Dan. + +Hurley glanced sideways at Betty’s face, caught its expression, and +exploded into laughter. + +“You’ve come to ‘Youbetcha Land,’ Miss Betty,” he said, when he could +speak again. + +“He is a character,” chuckled Hunt on her other side. + +The suggestion of highwaymen stuck in the girl’s mind. She looked from +Lizard Dan’s weapon to the ivory butt of the heavy revolver pouched at +Joe Hurley’s waist. These weapons could not be worn exactly for show—an +exhibition of the vanity of rather uncouth minds. It fretted her though +without frightening her, this phase of Western life. It was not the +possibility of gun-fights and brawls and the offices of Judge Lynch that +made Betty Hunt shrink from contact with this country and its people. + +The stagecoach mounted out of the valley—which might, Hunt said, have +been fittingly described by Ezekiel—and followed a winding trail through +the minor range of hills that divided Crescent City and its purlieus +from the Canyon Pass country. The coach pitched and rocked as though it +was a sea-going hack. + +In time they crossed the small divide and came down the watershed into +the valley of the East Fork. + +Borne to their ears on the breeze at last, through the sound of the +rumbling coach-wheels and the rattling trace-chains, was another noise. +A throbbing rhythm of sound with the dull swish of intermittent streams +of water. + +“The hydraulic pumps at the Eureka Washings,” explained Hurley. “We’ll +be in sight of them—and of Canyon Pass—before very long.” + +The stagecoach lurched around a corner, and the raw, red bench of the +riverbank came into view. Steam pumps were noisily at work and men were +busy at the sluices into which the gold-bearing earth and gravel were +washed down from the high bank. + +Three great, brass-nozzled hydraulic “guns” were at work—each machine +straddled by a man in oil-skins and hip boots, who manipulated the heavy +stream of water that ate into the bank and crumbled it in sections. + +At the moment of their sighting the hydraulic washings across the river, +there was raised a wild, concerted shout from a point ahead. Out of a +hidden cove galloped a cavalcade of a dozen or more mounted men, who +swept up the road to meet the coach. + +For an instant Betty thought of the shotgun at Dan’s feet and of +highwaymen. These coming riders waved guns and yelled like wild Indians. +But she saw a broad grin on Joe Hurley’s face. + +“Here come some of the Great Hope boys,” he explained. “Their idea of +‘welcome to our city’ may be a little noisy, but they mean you well, +Hunt.” + +They came “a-shootin’,” and Lizard Dan threw the long lash of his whip +over the backs of his six mules to force them through the cavalcade on +the gallop. + +Firing their guns and yelling, the riders on their wiry ponies +surrounding the coach as its escort, pounded down to the ford. Their +hullabaloo announced far in advance the approach of the coach to Canyon +Pass. + +In all its ugliness the mining camp was revealed. The gaze of the +Easterners was focused on its unpainted shacks and rutted streets. They +saw men, women, children, and a multitude of dogs running from all +points toward the main thoroughfare of the town. + +It was like a picture—not like anything real. Betty’s dazed mind could +not accept this nightmare of a place as actually being the town to which +fate—and her brother’s obstinacy—had brought them. Given an opportunity +right then, the girl would have failed her brother! She was in a mood to +desert him and return East as fast as she could travel. + +Joe Hurley grinned at her. She had begun almost to hate those twinkling +brown eyes of his with the golden sparks in them. He seemed to know just +what her feelings were and to enjoy her horror of the crudity which +assailed her on every hand. To her mind, Hurley was worse than his +associates, for he had enjoyed the advantages of some culture. + +The mules dashed into the shallows. Spray flew as high as the roof of +the coach. The mules settled into a heavier pace as they dragged the +vehicle up the farther bank and into the foot of Main Street. + +The crowd—a couple of hundred people of all ages—had gathered before the +Wild Rose Hotel. This stood opposite the bank and farther along the +street than the Three Star Grocery and Boss Tolley’s Grub Stake. The +mules picked up their heels again under the cracking of Lizard Dan’s +whiplash, and cantered up to the chief hostelry of Canyon Pass. The +yelling crew of horsemen—a bizarre committee of welcome indeed—rode +ahead, punctuating their vociferous clamor by an occasional pistol-shot. + +Betty caught sight of her brother’s face. It was as broadly smiling as +was that of Joe Hurley! Actually Ford was enjoying this awful +experience. + +The moment Dan drew the mules to a halt, Hurley was half way to the +ground and turned on the step to help Betty down. She glanced timidly at +Hunt again. He was preparing to descend on the other side of the coach, +leaving her entirely to Hurley’s care. + +Then occurred that incident which would ever be engraved upon Betty’s +memory, and which marked indeed the coming of the Reverend Willett Ford +Hunt to Canyon Pass on the archives of the town’s history in letters +that never would be effaced. + +As Hunt started to descend from the roof of the coach there sounded a +single pistol-shot and the hat he wore—a low-crowned affair, the single +mark of the cleric in his dress—sailed into the air with a ragged hole +through brim and crown. + +As the hat flew upward a fusillade of five more shots followed the +first, and the hat was torn to rags as it sailed over the roof of the +coach. The crowd roared—some in anger, but most in derision. The man +standing by the door of the Grub Stake reloaded his gun before putting +it away, grinning broadly. + +Hunt was startled; but his own smile did not fade. What was it Joe had +impressed so emphatically upon his mind? + +“It’s the first impression that counts with Canyon Pass folks. Give ’em +the chance, and they’ll laugh you out of town. And remember, they are +bound to judge you, Hunt, by their own standards.” + +The young minister felt that the occasion was momentous. His usefulness +here in Canyon Pass might depend upon his action or comment in this +emergency. + +His nerves were perfectly steady. How was his _nerve_? He knew the man +who had shot the hat from his head was such a good shot that he had been +in no danger at all. + +But Hunt felt that something more was expected of him than the mere +ignoring of a rude and offensive act. He started across the road toward +the gunman. Those who stood in the way opened a lane for him with some +alacrity. The smiles upon the faces of those who moved stiffened. +Something extraordinary, something they had not at all expected, was +about to happen. + +Hicks, slouching against the front of the Grub Stake, came to sudden +attention. His fingers crooked, creeping toward the butt of his gun +again. Every atom of the ruffian’s courage—such as it was—lay in that +weapon. Without it—and its leaden death—he was a sheep for bravery! + +Smiling still Hunt reached him. The parson’s steady gaze held that of +Hicks as the human eye is said to hypnotize the gaze of all wild beasts. +Hicks, however, was not wild. Not now. Not so you could notice it! + +“Brother,” Hunt said cheerfully, “you’ve spoiled my hat. It’s the only +hat I’ve got with me until my trunks come in by freight. You’ve had your +fun, and it’s only fair you should pay for it.” + +The expression of Hicks’ face sunk into a sneer. He thought the +white-livered parson was trying to get money from him for the hat. He +must indeed be a “softie.” + +Then Hunt’s hands moved suddenly, swiftly. In a flash he had snatched +the broad-brimmed hat from Hicks’ head and placed it on his own, + +“Turn about is fair play, don’t you think?” said the parson, and without +waiting for a reply he turned on his heel and went back across the +street! + +The silence that had fallen on the crowd had been of that tense, +strained quality that portended tragedy. Had Hunt showed offense at the +trick played upon him and struck Hicks, the latter would have used his +gun without mercy. And scarcely could a jury have been impaneled in +Canyon Pass that would have convicted the ruffian. + +But of a sudden, a roar of laughter rose from the crowd. They rocked +with it, beating their knees, holding their sides, laughing with +wide-open mouths and streaming eyes. Nor was the comical appearance of +Hicks’ dilapidated hat crowning the parson’s otherwise impeccable outfit +all that spurred Canyon Pass to such wild cachinnation. + +The strident laughter was aimed at the chagrined gunman. Hicks knew it. +The broad back of the parson offered a sure target; but he knew better +than to draw his gun a second time. Instead he turned away, hatless, and +sought sanctuary in the Grub Stake. + +Hunt had taken the first trick in this game he had “set into.” And +Canyon Pass to a man admired a shrewd gambler. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII—A FLOWER IN THE MIRE + + +Had Betty Hunt not had Joe Hurley to steady her as she came down from +the roof of the stagecoach to the ground in the midst of the crowd, she +never could have stood upright through that scene! The sight of her +brother’s hat flying overhead, the target of Hicks’ six-gun, led her to +believe that Hunt was in peril—deadly peril. + +She wanted to beg Hurley to run to her brother’s rescue, but her tongue +clove to the roof of her mouth. What followed utterly appalled her. She +verily believed that Hunt took his life in his hands when he approached +and browbeat the bad man! + +But as she heard the boisterous laughter of the crowd and saw the +strange hat flapping about the Reverend Willett Ford Hunt’s ears, Betty +became suddenly angry. + +“Take off that horrid hat, Ford!” she cried when the parson joined them. +“I beg of you, take it off at once.” + +“Don’t do it, Willie,” interposed Hurley. “Let it be. No crown of glory +you may earn will ever so become you. Continue to wear it, Reverend, and +not a soul in Canyon Pass will ever laugh at _you_, if they do at the +hat. It will remind ’em that you’re an honest-to-goodness he-man.” + +Hunt smiled deprecatingly. “You make too much of it, Joe. Don’t worry, +Betty, about the hat. I might as well keep the joke up a little while.” + +“‘Joke!’” she groaned. + +Hurley slapped Hunt resoundingly on the shoulder. “You’re all right, +Willie!” + +This turned Betty against him all the more. It was so uncouth she +thought on Hurley’s part and so undignified on her brother’s. With all +these people looking on, grinning and gaping, was that the way to gain +respect for a clergyman and for his work? + +“Well, let’s go into the Wild Rose and get you settled,” Hurley said +with that cordiality that did much, after all, to disarm Betty’s +criticism. “I told ‘Cholo’ Sam and Maria to clean up some rooms for you +and try and make things halfway decent. But I don’t know. This isn’t +like the hotel at Crescent City.” + +The statement was not conducive to Betty’s peace of mind. The sordidness +and squalor of Canyon Pass was being from moment to moment etched more +deeply on her brain. They mounted the steps of unplaned boards and +crossed the porch that shook even under Betty’s light tread. Unpainted +walls, uncarpeted stairs, and not altogether clean floors met her gaze +as they entered the hostelry. + +If Hunt was appalled by the rudeness of their surroundings he very +successfully hid his real feelings. He had spent vacations in the +hunting and fishing camps of Maine and Quebec. The lack of even the +ordinary conveniences of civilized life could not in any case trouble +him as it did his gently nurtured sister. + +He did, however, on this first evening arrange to have their supper +served in Betty’s room, rather than forcing her to eat in the general +dining-room of the hotel. But he explained that they could not thus +segregate themselves in the future. + +“It wouldn’t do, Betty. I must mix with these people—show myself willing +to be one of them in ordinary ways. Respect for the cloth cannot be won +among these open-hearted folk by finnicky manners. I must be one of +them. I must show them that I am a man as well as a preacher.” + +She could not agree; but at least she was wise enough not to oppose—at +this time—his evident acceptance of Joe Hurley’s advice. She saw in the +latter more clearly than ever a dangerous ally for her brother. + +Hunt’s abundant cheerfulness—even over the coarse supper-fare and the +absence of napkins—closed his sister’s lips even more firmly. The two +had come to Canyon Pass with diametrically opposed mental attitudes. +Hunt was prepared to accept things as they should find them, but nothing +in Canyon Pass, or about it or its inhabitants, could please Betty. + +As darkness fell the town grew noisier, for it was a Saturday night. +Betty, looking from her window, saw only flaring oil lamps and gasoline +torches illuminating the street. The men who passed up and down were +much rougher in appearance and of tongue than those she had watched +under similar circumstances in Crescent City. There were almost no women +in sight. + +Men spoke harshly, or shouted ribaldries to one another. Indeed, the +girl from the East scarcely understood the language they used. Miserably +she crept to bed. She had locked her door after her brother left her, +and she even dragged the pine washstand against it as a barricade. + +The Wild Rose Hotel itself was no quiet abode on this night. There was a +bar, and although it was at the other end of the house, the noise of the +shouting, the rude songs, the stamping and quarreling therein made Betty +shake in her bed until long after midnight. She had no idea that her +brother went to bed, fell asleep in a minute, and slept as peacefully as +a baby until almost sunrise. + +A Sabbath dawn could be as calm at Canyon Pass as at Ditson Corners. The +pearl-gray light of the new day washed the sleep from the Reverend +Willett Ford Hunt’s eyes. He arose to lean on his elbow and gaze through +a window that, curtainless, looked out on Mulligan Lane. There were some +frowsy buildings within sight—evidently dwellings of a kind—but the +parson lifted his eyes to the hills feeling with the psalmist that +“whence cometh my strength.” + +They stood—those hills—in serrated ranks from the far east to the point +where the sudden uplift of the canyon wall on that side of the river +closed the outlook. Even Old Graylock of his familiar Berkshires had not +the magnificence of these peaks. He was impressed again as he already +had been with the difference merely in size between these western hills +and the Berkshires, let alone the vast dissimilarity in their contour. + +The eminences of western Massachusetts for the most part slope away into +wooded and pastured ridges, which themselves melt into the lush +lowlands. Their crowns do not seem so imposing as these western peaks +because of their configuration. + +His window was open. Suddenly he became aware of voices below it at the +back of the hotel. + +Something was going on there—something that revealed the dregs of life +to be as mean and offensive here in Canyon Pass as they could be in any +place in the whole world. He heard the maundering tones of an +intoxicated man and—sharply contrasted—the voice of a woman. + +“Get up, Sam, and come home.” + +“Hic! Won’t go home till mawnin’—till mawnin’—hic—doth ’pear.” + +“Well, morning’s appearing all right, and it’ll catch you here, +wallerin’ like a hog in the lane. Come home with me.” + +“No. I’m a man. I’m—hic!—independent, I am. I’ll go hu-hu-home jest +whenever I please.” + +“Now’s the time to please me, Sam. Get up and come along.” + +“Couldn’t do it, gal. Couldn’t think—hic!—of it. ’Twould be givin’ up my +indepen—dic!—dence. I’m—I’m my own master. Leastways, I am on Sunday +when the mine’s shut down. Here I stand——” + +“But you don’t stand!” ejaculated the woman’s voice sharply. “And I +don’t believe you can.” + +The inebriated man gave no heed to this challenge. “Here I stand,” he +repeated. “‘On Jordan’s bank I take my stand, and cast a—hic!—cast a +wishtful eye’——” + +“More’n likely you’ll cast a shoe and won’t get home at all, if I can’t +start you,” complained the woman’s voice. + +Hunt had risen and was scrambling into the more necessary articles of +his apparel. He went to the window and looked down into the lane. + +There was an overturned box just below the window and slouched down upon +it was a withered, baldheaded man whose frayed whiskers and untrimmed +hair made him look a deal like an inebriated monkey. There was nothing +humorous looking in this specimen of fallen humanity to the mind of the +parson. He could only pity his case. + +But it must be confessed the other person engaged in the colloquy gained +Hunt’s interest and held it at once. + +She was small, lissome, of a vigorous figure and vastly more attractive +to his eye than any girl he had ever looked at. Indeed, he was amazed to +see such a really beautiful creature in such squalid surroundings. + +“Get up and come home with me,” said the girl again. “What will Mother +Tubbs say when she sees you?” + +“Heh? I reckon I better stay yere,” was the reply. “Man can’t keep +his—hic!—dignity when a great walrus of a woman throws him ’round like +he was a sack of spuds. I tell you, gal, I made a great mistake in +marryin’ that woman.” + +“It was a great mistake for her—that’s a fact,” was the sharp rejoinder. +“You got so many failings I don’t see how Mother Tubbs remembers ’em all +when she prays for you. Ugh! You men! There ain’t a one of you I’d give +a hoot in a rain-water barrel for. Get up!” + +The girl again tried to drag him to his feet. Sam Tubbs merely fell over +sideways and sprawled helpless upon the ground. + +Hunt, without his coat or vest, but grabbing up the flap-brimmed hat he +had secured from the gunman the evening before, opened his door, ran +down the back stairway of the hotel, and made his way quickly into the +lane. As he appeared before Nell Blossom, standing over the now +slumbering drunkard, he looked anything but the cleric. + +“Can I be of help?” he asked. + +“You can’t help me none, mister,” replied Nell brusquely. + +“I scarcely think you need help,” said Hunt, smiling. “But this +unfortunate——” + +“‘Unfortunate’ is right!” repeated the girl. “Sam Tubbs is so +unfortunate that it would be money right now in his pocket if he’d never +been born. If I leave him here some of those cheap hangers-on of the +Grub Stake or Colorado’s place will roll him for all he has in his +jeans. And Mother Tubbs needs what he’s got left of his pay—believe me!” + +“Where does he live?” + +“Where I do. Down the lane a ways.” + +“I think we can get him there,” said Hunt, and without further ado he +stooped, got a grip on Sam Tubbs, and proceeded to throw him over his +shoulder like a sack of meal. + +The girl’s eyes grew round. For the first time she expressed some +appreciation—perhaps a little admiration—for his friendliness. + +“You wasn’t behind the door when they were passing out muscle,” she +remarked. “Well, come on. I’ll show you the way.” + +The now slumbering Sam Tubbs was scarcely a heavy burden, and to Hunt +the task of carrying him was slight. He was considerably amused as well +as interested in the girl. It was quite apparent that she did not know +he was the new parson. Evidently she had not been in the crowd the day +before that had welcomed the coming of the tenderfoot preacher and his +sister to Canyon Pass. + +Hunt was studying her face now with more than amusement, although her +bluff manner of speech and utterly independent air made Nell Blossom a +revelation of a new phase of femininity to him. Her speech, in the first +place, did not accord with her beauty, nor, indeed, with the natural +refinement expressed in her countenance. + +She certainly was a lovely girl! In the early morning light her light +brown hair seemed threaded all through the mass of it with strands of +gold. Her eyes were the blue of a mountain lake—but with ice in their +depths. Their gaze, as it was turned on Hunt, was utterly impersonal. + +Her peachy complexion as well, offset by dark brows and red lips, +aroused Hunt’s admiration for its sheer beauty. Brown-gold hair, blue +eyes, petite and lissome figure—when had such description of a girl +caught in the cogs of his memory? Somewhere lately he had seen, or heard +described, such a sprite of a girl as this. + +She was dressed plainly enough in serviceable corduroy—short skirt, +blouse, broad-brimmed hat, high laced boots. A crimson scarf was knotted +under the collar of her blouse. She wore no ornament. + +Nell did not say much during that brief walk. Not that she was at all +timid or bashful; but she seemed to feel no particular interest in this +young man who had put himself out to help Sam Tubbs. + +For her own part she considered Sam a nuisance. She had no use for the +old reprobate. It was solely for Mother Tubbs’ sake that she had +bothered herself with regard to Sam. Finding him drunk—as usual—on her +way home from Colorado Brown’s place early on this Sunday morning, she +had tried to get him home without realizing at first that Sam was quite +so far gone in liquor as he was. + +As for this man who walked by her side, carrying so easily the +insensible Sam, Nell did not question who he was. That he was a +stranger—possibly a traveling salesman, or “drummer”—perhaps a mining +man, she believed, if she thought of him at all. As Hunt suspected, she +did not for a moment identify him as the parson Joe Hurley had brought +to Canyon Pass. In any event she could not have imagined the Reverend +Willett Ford Hunt as this sort of person. + +They turned abruptly into another narrow alley and came to the front of +the Tubbs’ shack. The yard, fenced by pickets of barrel-staves, was +neatly kept and there was an attempt at a flower bed on either side of +the walk. Mother Tubbs usually punished Sam for his sin of drunkenness, +after he had slept off his potations, by making him weed the tiny +gardens and rake the path. These penitential activities kept the Tubbs +premises spick and span. + +Nell led the way imperturbably around to the back door of the shack. +This door was open and a thin blue haze—odorous and appetizing—floated +out of the kitchen. + +“Just getting a nice breakfast for you, honey,” said Mother Tubbs, +filling the doorway and seeing Nell first of all. “Now, if only Sam +would come along—Is _that_ Sam? He ain’t dead, is he?” + +“Only dead drunk,” said Nell in scorn. + +“Where shall I put him?” asked Hunt quietly. + +“Well, I reckon it don’t much matter. You can drop him down anywhere, +mister. I’ll fetch a dish-pan o’ water and sluice him down when I get a +chance. But I can’t let them cakes sp’ile.” Then she saw and recognized +the parson’s face, for Mother Tubbs had been at the Wild Rose Hotel the +day before when the stagecoach had arrived. “Goodness me! I declared, +Mister—er—Brother Hunt, this _is_ good of ye.” + +Nell stared. The note of respect in Mother Tubbs’ voice revealed in a +flash Hunt’s identity to the cabaret singer. + +“I am sartain sure obliged to you,” went on the old woman. “Nell Blossom +never could have got him home alone.” Hunt had lowered her husband to a +seat on the porch floor and propped his back against a post. “Sleeping +like a baby, ain’t he? Well, he can stay thataway till after Nell has +her breakfast.” + +Hunt was not giving her his attention. The name “Nell Blossom” had +revealed to him instantly the familiarity of the girl’s description. +This was the golden-haired, blue-eyed, high-spirited beauty Joe Hurley +had written about—the girl who could really sing. + +They stared at each other while the old woman went back to her cakes. +Nell was obviously shifting the gears of her opinion about this +stranger. He, a parson? No lunger, this husky six-footer! + +“Mebbe you ain’t acquainted,” Mother Tubbs said, bustling back from the +stove. “Nell Blossom is a-living with me and has been doing so—off and +on—for more than three years. Ever since her pa, old Henry Blossom, up +and died. She’s a singer, Nell is—the sweetest you ever heard, Brother +Hunt. I’m hoping, when you get to holding meetings, that we can get her +to sing in the choir.” + +Hunt bowed, smiling, to the girl. Her expression of countenance was no +less forbidding than before. She offered him no encouragement. + +“Won’t you stop for breakfast with me and Nell, Brother Hunt?” went on +the hospitable old woman. “I always try to have something hot and tasty +for Nell when she comes home after her night’s work.” + +Nell started—was it angrily? She opened her lips to speak, then shut +them in a straight, red line. In any case, Hunt caught the significance +of her attitude of objection, had he been tempted to accept the old +woman’s hearty invitation. + +“Not this morning, Mrs.—er—Tubbs, is it? Sister Tubbs? I am glad to have +met you.” He met her huge hand with a warm clasp of his own. “When we +get started here, I am sure I can depend on your aid and good wishes?” + +“Youbetcha!” exclaimed the old woman. “And you’ll see me in one of the +front seats—mebbe in two of ’em if they ain’t bigger than usual,” she +added with twinkling eyes. + +He laughed boyishly, lifting the dilapidated old hat to both Mother +Tubbs and the girl as he turned the corner of the shack. The old woman +looked down admonishingly at Nell Blossom. + +“You weren’t a mite perlite to the minister, Nell,” she complained. + + + + +CHAPTER IX—A BEGINNING + + +That eastern mountain range was all etched with rose color now as Hunt +went back to the hotel. But the town had scarcely quieted after its +night’s revelry. Inebriates were still dribbling along the streets from +the all-night places. + +He thought of Nell Blossom. She certainly was a flower in the mire of +Canyon Pass. Joe Hurley had written none too enthusiastically about the +girl, as far as concerned her beauty. And although Hunt was by no means +given to impulsive judgments, he knew there was a refined atmosphere +about the girl despite her gruff independence of manner and speech. + +His return to the hotel was unheralded save by the cheerful grin of +Cholo Sam, the Mexican proprietor of the hostelry, who was sluicing out +the barroom. + +“Some morning, thees, Señor Hunt.” He flashed a tentative, toothful +smile toward the array of bottles behind his bar. “Weel you have one +leetle drink, Señor? A ‘pick-my-up,’ you call eet, eh?” + +“Coffee, Sam,” replied Hunt briskly, acknowledging the offer in the +spirit it was meant. “Coffee only—and perhaps a bit of bread with it. +Service for two, please. My sister will want some. Will you bring it +up?” + +“But surely, señor.” He hesitated. “Ees eet the truth that the señor ees +a meenister—the padre? Si?” + +“Quite true, Sam. That is my business—my trade. And I have come here to +Canyon Pass hoping to exercise it.” + +Hunt mounted to his room to find that Betty was already astir. She had +been into his room during his absence. One of the bags he had brought +upon the stagecoach had been opened and across the foot of the bed was +carefully laid his ordinary Sunday garments—frock-coat, high-cut +waistcoat, and narrow trousers of dead black sheen. + +With the outer garments was the stiff-bosomed white shirt—“boiled” Joe +Hurley would have designated its variety—the silk socks, with a pair of +low, gun-metal kid shoes set primly on the floor under the edge of the +bed. + +Ford Hunt looked at all these once—then again. He thought of what he had +been doing already on this Sunday morning. Then he burst into loud +laughter. + +Sunday afternoon when the weather was propitious was the time for social +intercourse in Canyon Pass. Those who had worked or played or had been +intoxicated the night before had slept off the effects of their +super-exertions for the most part. They came forth now shaved and in +clean garments and strolled to Main Street. + +It was still too early for the cabarets and gambling places to be open, +and even the saloon bars were somnolent save for the flies buzzing about +them or drunkenly crawling in the spilled beer. The pivotal point of the +town’s rendezvous and gossip on Sunday afternoon was the Three Star +Grocery. In front of that old Bill Judson held forth between his +exertions of waiting on such customers as might claim his attention. + +“Dad burn it!” ejaculated Judson. “I bet Tom Hicks has crawled into his +hole and pulled the hole in after him. I should want to if I was him. +And you take it from me, boys, a parson that can do that to a bad actor +like Tom Hicks will make Canyon Pass sit up and take notice before he’s +through.” + +“It showed sand, I allow,” agreed one of his hearers judiciously. “But +it’s r’iled Boss Tolley all up and he swears the parson sha’n’t stay.” + +“You don’t say!” drawled Judson sarcastically. “And who ever elected +Tolley to be boss of the Pass? If for no other reason, I’m strong for +this yere Reverend Hunt.” + +“As a man—a reg’lar he-man—I’m for him, too,” agreed another. “But I’m +thinkin’ we can get along yere at Canyon Pass without much psalm-singing +and preaching.” + +“Yeppy. You’re right,” declared a third of Judson’s hearers. + +“Let alone that you’re all wrong,” put in Judson again with energy, +“let’s look at the thing in a practical way, as the feller said. If a +man come in yere and opened a shoe shop or a candy pop or wanted to sell +shoestrings, we’d give him the glad hand, wouldn’t we? ‘Live and let +live,’ has always been the motto of Canyon Pass, ain’t it?” + +“What’s that got to do with it, Bill?” + +“Why, you big gump! Ain’t this parson got something to peddle? His stock +in trade is religion, and he’s got just as much right to show goods and +try to drum up trade as the next one, ain’t he? He’s entitled to a fair +deal. And Boss Tolley, Tom Hicks, and them other highbinders can sulk in +their dens and suck their paws. I ain’t never gone ironed since I opened +this shack, nigh thirty years ago. But I’ll sling a gun on my hip and +act as bodyguard if it’s necessary for any feller that ain’t getting a +fair deal in this town. That’s gospel!” + +“I never knowed ye was so all-fired religious, Bill,” complained one of +his surprised hearers. + +“Religious!” retorted the storekeeper. “It ain’t that I’m religious—not +so’s you’d notice it. But I got a sense of fair play,—dad burn it! Here +comes the parson now, boys.” + +Hunt and Joe Hurley came out of the Wild Rose Hotel. The minister had +not donned his clerical garments. He was dressed as he had been the day +before when he arrived on the stagecoach, except for the hat he wore. +That flopping-brimmed headgear which he had taken from Tom Hicks crowned +the parson’s brush of crisp, dark hair. + +“Boys,” said Hurley, when they came near, “meet Willie Hunt. He’s one of +the best old scouts I met when I was East, that time I stood that +college on its head, like I told you. I reckon you know Willie is a real +man, if he _is_ a parson. Mr. Hunt, meet Jib Collins, Cale Mack, Jim +Tierney, and—last but not least—Bill Judson, who is the honored mentor +of this camp.” + +“Whatever that is,” and the storekeeper grinned, shaking hands in turn +with Hunt. “This yere Joe Hurley slings language at times that sartainly +stops traffic. He can’t seem to get over it. It was wished on him when +he lived East that time he is always telling us about.” + +Hunt knew how to meet these men—he was by nature a “good mixer.” There +is much in the grasp of a hand, a steady look, an unafraid smile, that +recommends the stranger to such bold spirits. The timid, even the +hesitant, make no progress with them. + +“Parson,” pursued Judson, “we was just discussin’ your business as you +and Joe come along. In my opinion we need you yere at Canyon Pass. I’m +speakin’ for myself alone,” and he glared at the other men in the group +accusingly; “but I can’t put it too strong. We need ye. To my mind +religion is a mighty good thing. We’re loose livin’, we’re loose +talkin’, and we need to be jacked up right smart. + +“You can count on me, parson, to back any play you make, clean across +the board. I’m for you, strong. We need meetin’s started. We ought to +have a Sunday school for the young ’uns. We need to be preached at and +prayed with. I come of right strict Presbyterian stock, and when I was a +lad I was used to all the means of grace, I was.” + +“You are interested, then, Mr. Judson, in any attempt we may make to +inaugurate services here on Sunday?” Hunt asked cheerfully. + +“Youbetcha!” was the hearty rejoinder. + +“Of course, Mr. Judson,” Hunt pursued, “you understand that, to have +successful and helpful services, some of us at least must have the +spirit of service?” + +“Sure. That’s what I tell ’em.” + +“I take it from brief observation that this day—the Sabbath—is observed +very little at present in Canyon Pass?” + +“True as true,” said the storekeeper. + +“To get people really interested in divine services on this day, don’t +you think we should begin by making some difference—a real +difference—between the First Day and the other six?” Hunt continued, +eyeing Judson reflectively. “If we who are interested in the betterment +of the community are not willing to lead in this matter, those we wish +to help can scarcely follow. + +“Sunday should not be like the other six days of the week. Your mines +and gold washings shut down on this day. How about other secular +activities ceasing—as far as it may be possible?” + +“I—I reckon you’re right, parson,” Judson said, though with some +hesitation. “Of course, the boys have been used to having their freedom +on Sundays, and their fun. I don’t believe you could go far in shutting +down the saloons and gambling tables—not right at first.” + +“But would you go as far as you could personally to establish a better +standard of Sunday observance?” pursued Hunt. + +“Heh?” ejaculated the puzzled Judson. + +Hunt, still smiling, mounted the steps of the store, closed the door, +and turned the great key which had been left in the outside of the lock. +He removed the key and handed it to Bill Judson as he came down the +steps again. + +“Mr. Judson,” he said in a perfectly unmoved voice, “if you will begin +by keeping that door locked on Sundays you will be leading the way in +this community toward a proper observance of the Lord’s Day.” + +Joe Hurley was on the point of bursting out laughing. But he thought +better of joining Collins, Mack, and Tierney in wild expressions of joy +at the old man’s discomfiture. + +Judson’s face turned from its usual weather-beaten tan to a purple-red. +His rheumy eyes sparked. Then slowly, reflectively, a grin wreathed his +tobacco-stained lips and crinkled the outer corners of his eyelids. + +“Parson,” he said, thrusting out his hand again, “you’re on! I’ll show +these fellers I’m a good sport. Nobody was ever able to say honestly +that Bill Judson took water; and I won’t give ’em the chance’t to say it +now.” + + + + +CHAPTER X—MUTTERINGS OF A STORM + + +It was Joe Hurley who saw Betty appear on the porch of the hotel. +Perhaps his gaze had been fixed in that direction for that very purpose. +It was a vision to draw the eyes of any man hungry for a picture of a +well-dressed and modest young woman. Betty Hunt was like nothing that +had ever before stepped out upon the Main Street of Canyon Pass. + +“Come on, Willie,” urged Hurley, seizing the minister’s sleeve. “You’ve +jarred Judson clean to bedrock. Spare him any more for now. Come on. +Your sister is waiting for us to take her to the Great Hope.” + +Betty was not gaily appareled. Her frock was black and white, and so was +her hat. She still remembered Aunt Prudence’s death—and that she was a +parson’s sister! But it was the way the frock was made, and how it and +the hat became her that marked Betty as an object of approval, to the +male Passonians at least. + +“Such a beautiful day, Mr. Hurley,” Betty ventured. “One might think it +a respectable country town if only one could forget last night.” + +She stared at Hurley with accusation. He dropped his head sheepishly. +Somehow Betty Hunt put the matter as though it were his fault! + +“We’re going to change all that in time,” said Hunt cheerfully. “These +people are not so bad, Betty——” + +“That they couldn’t be worse? Yes, I know,” retorted his sister. + +“Why, Betty!” murmured Hunt, “isn’t that a bit uncharitable?” + +“I have no thought for charity in a place like this,” declared the girl. +“Such dirt, vileness and disorder I never dreamed of! These people are +not even human! I cannot excuse them. No branch of the human family +could possibly be ignorant enough for us to excuse what I have already +seen about me in Canyon Pass.” + +“Great saltpeter!” murmured Hurley. + +“You did not tell my brother the half of it!” she cried, flaring at the +mining man. “You hid the worst. You only said things in your letters +that you knew would attract him here.” + +Joe Hurley started back a step. If a kitten he had stooped to pet had +suddenly turned and gouged him with its claws he could have been no more +startled. + +But Betty Hunt proved herself no kitten. She was usually a very +self-contained and quite unexcited young woman. It was only for a minute +that she allowed her anger to flame out. + +“Now, that’s enough about that,” she pursued, still with a frown. “The +thing is done. We are here. I do not believe that Ford will ever be +happy in Canyon Pass; and I know I shall not.” + +“Better not speak so positively, Bet,” said Hunt coolly. A brother +seldom is much impressed by his sister’s little ruffles of temper. “You +may have to change your opinion. My belief is that none of us can find +happiness in a new environment. We must take the happiness with us to +any new abode.” + +Hurley was much subdued during their walk through the town. His +knowledge of girls like Betty was very slight. He had never had a sister +and he could not remember his mother. + +Even girls like Nell Blossom had not been frequent events in the mining +man’s life. His two years spent in the East had been almost as barren of +feminine society as his years in the West. + +Now, it must be confessed, Betty Hunt had “got him going,” to quote his +own thought in the matter. Not that Hurley was of a fickle temperament. +But he was not a man to eat his heart out in an utterly impossible +cause. + +Nell had shown him plainly that she had no use for him save as an +acquaintance. He could not even count himself her friend now, for since +her return from Hoskins she had seemed more remote from the men of +Canyon Pass than ever before. + +So, Joe Hurley had already put Nell out of his mind in that way before +Betty Hunt had appeared on the scene. And, it seemed, he was fated to be +attracted by a distant star. The minister’s sister was distinctly of +another world—and a world far, far above that of Canyon Pass, Hurley +told himself. + +It was not Betty’s finnicky ways, as her brother bluntly called them, +that held the girl from the East so dear in Joe’s eyes. It was in spite +of her disapproval of Canyon Pass and all that lay therein. The mining +man was deeply interested in the development of the camp. He had done +much in a business way to improve conditions here. He hoped to do more. + +He had quite realized that the place needed something besides modern +business methods to raise it out of the slough in which it wallowed as a +community. This realization, shared with such people as Bill Judson and +old Mother Tubbs, had led Hurley to interest the Reverend Willett Ford +Hunt in Canyon Pass. He foresaw the camp in time as well governed a +place as Crescent City. + +Betty’s scorn and vituperation regarding the shortcomings of the Pass +actually pained Hurley. Was it so bad as she seemed to think it was? +This girl from the East was very positive in her dislike for the place +and its people. + +Then he looked over her head at the quietly smiling face of Hunt. He did +not seem to share his sister’s opinion that the Pass was beyond +redemption. There was, after all, a quality of sanity and stability +about Hunt that bolstered Hurley’s hope. + +“That boy is all right,” thought Hurley finally. “He sees things with a +clear eye. And our crudeness doesn’t scare him. His sister——Well! what +could you expect of a pretty, fluffy little thing like her? This place +is bound to look rotten to her at the first. But at that, she may change +her opinion.” + +In fact, Joe Hurley had determination enough to believe that he was just +the chap who could change these opinions of Betty Hunt! His non-success +with Nell Blossom had not convinced him that he would never be able to +attract other girls. + +Right at the start Joe had been enamored of the fragile beauty of the +parson’s sister. Hers was not the robust, if petite, prettiness of Nell +Blossom. It was a beauty of spirit and character that looked out of +Betty’s gray eyes. Her very calmness and primness intrigued the mining +man. + +Opposite is attracted by opposite. Because he was so open and hearty +himself, Hurley admired the daintiness and delicacy of Betty. Her +primness, even her shrinking from the things to which he was so used in +and about Canyon Pass, pleased the young man in a way. + +Here was just the sort of girl he desired to establish in his home—a +real home—when he got one. Joe Hurley did not propose to live in a +bachelor shack in the purlieus of Canyon Pass all his life—by no means! +He was getting on. The Great Hope was panning out well. It had every +promise of being a big thing in time. He was going to be rich. Betty +Hunt would grace the head of the table of a millionaire—wear the clothes +a prince might buy for his wife—hold the respect and admiration that the +highest lady in the land might claim. + +“I’ve got to have that girl,” thought Hurley. “And I’m going after her!” + +They climbed the steep road of rolled rock to the highland overlooking +the town and giving them a view to the first turn of the canyon bed of +Runaway River. When the squalid sight of Canyon Pass could be shut out +of the mind, even Betty admitted that the dimming light in the canyon +lent a fairylike charm to all its ruggedness. It was a slot made by +giants in the hills without doubt. She expressed a desire to see more of +it. + +“I’ll get you a good cayuse,” said Hurley eagerly. “Got any riding duds +with you?” + +“I have my habit in one of my trunks.” + +The Westerner looked at her doubtfully. “Don’t know about long skirts +flapping around the legs of these Western critters——” + +“Habits are not made with skirts nowadays, Mr. Hurley,” Betty +interrupted coldly. “Fashion—even in the Fenway—demands that the +feminine riding suit shall be mannish.” + +“Oh! If you ride astraddle,” replied Hurley, without realizing that his +phrase shocked her, “we can find you a horse that will fill the bill. +I’ve got one that I ride myself, and I can pick up one for Willie.” + +“Most agreeable to me, I’m sure,” agreed the parson. “I can ride after a +fashion. Bet got her training at boarding school. If Aunt Prudence knew +all her niece got at that institution the dear old lady would have been +shocked.” + +Betty did not smile. There were things that had happened to her at +boarding school that Ford knew nothing about. His words aroused in her +mind the carking memory of the secret that had changed Betty Hunt’s life +completely—the secret that had killed all the sparkle and winsome +lightness in the girl’s nature. She became silent and after that only +listened to the talk of the two young men. + +Not that she was not interested as they went on and Hurley pointed out +the several claims being worked with the most modern methods of the +Oreode Company, and the Nufall Syndicate, and by himself and his +associates at the Great Hope. This mining business was all new to the +girl, and she had an inquiring mind. She did not shrink at all, when +Hurley suggested a descent into the shaft and produced slickers and +rubber boots and tarpaulins to put on over their clothes. + +The man in charge let them down in the bucket, and a gasoline torch +showed them all that there was to see under the surface. Hurley +explained with pride how he had found and developed the first paying +lead in the Great Hope, but that the name of the mine foreshadowed a +much richer vein that he was confident was soon to be opened. Science +and that “sixth sense” of the miner assured him that the big thing was +coming. + +“We’re always looking toward El Dorado, we miners,” he said with a +laugh. “It’s hope that keeps us up.” + +“‘El Dorado’—the hoped-for land,” repeated Betty softly. And then, +standing there in the flickering radiance of the torch, she repeated, +while the men were silent, that concluding paragraph of Robert Louis +Stevenson’s essay: + + “‘O toiling hands of mortals! O unwearied feet, traveling ye know + not whither! Soon, soon it seems to you, you must come forth on some + conspicuous hilltop and, but a little way further, against the + setting sun, descry the spires of El Dorado. Little do ye know your + own blessedness, for to travel hopefully is a better thing than to + arrive, and the true success is to labor.’” + +“Amen,” Hunt commented seriously. + +“You said it,” agreed the mining man with that bluff emphasis that did +not shock Betty so much now as it might at the beginning. “That’s what +keeps me going. Stevenson knew what he was writing about. But, we would +have considered him a weakling out here, I am afraid. We are inclined to +judge everything here in terms of muscle and brawn.” + +“But it has been your brains, Joe, not your brawn, that has carried you +so far in this work,” Hunt declared warmly. + +Hurley sighed as they went back to the shaft. “Let me tell you I have +had to use considerable brawn, Willie, in handling these roughnecks that +work for me.” + +He laughed again. Joe Hurley could not be sober for long. And his temper +exploded when he had to shout at the top of his lungs to attract the +attention of the watchmen when they wanted to get up to the surface. + +“This feller isn’t worth the powder to blow him from here to Jericho,” +grumbled Hurley. “I always miss old Steve Siebert when he slopes for the +desert, as he’s bound to do every spring. That old desert rat is always +here over Sunday to see that everything is all right, when he’s on the +job. But he just has to go off prospecting once in so often.” + +He told them more about Siebert and Andy McCann as they went away from +the claim. Betty listened as before with quiet interest, but she made no +comment. Hurley was not at all sure that she had enjoyed, or even +approved of their visit to the mine when she and Hunt parted from him at +his own shack, although she thanked him politely. + +The walk did not end for Hunt and his sister without a more adventurous +incident. The sun had disappeared and the dusk had begun to thicken in +corners and by-streets as they approached the hotel. There, at the mouth +of a narrow lane, two figures stood, a man and a girl, and their voices +were sharp and angry. + +“That’s what I’m telling you,” the man’s voice drawled, a note in it +that at once raised in Hunt that feeling that any decent man experiences +who hears one of his own sex so address a woman. “You got to come to it, +and you might as well come now as later. I got you on the hip—that I +have. Understand?” + +“I understand nothing of the kind, Tolley. You’re a bluffer and a beast! +And if you don’t let me alone——” + +“Don’t fool yourself,” interrupted the man. “I won’t let you alone till +you come back to the Grub Stake. But I won’t talk to you about it again. +I’ll talk to others.” + +Then the girl told him angrily to do his worst. Betty attempted to pass +on swiftly; but the young man hesitated. + +“Do for goodness’ sake come along, Ford!” whispered his sister, looking +back at him. + +Back in Ditson Corners—or in almost any other Eastern town—the Reverend +Willett Ford Hunt would scarcely have shown his interest in such a scene +on the street, save perhaps to speak to a constable or policeman about +it. + +But there was something here he could not ignore. Nor was it entirely +because he recognized the angry voice of the girl, although he had not +as yet seen her face in the dusk. + +“You’ll do what I tell you,” muttered the bully with an oath, as Hunt +stepped nearer. “If you don’t come back to the Grub Stake to sing +to-morrow night, I’ll let the whole o’ Canyon Pass know——” + +It was just then that Hunt’s hand dropped upon Boss Tolley’s shoulder. +Nor did it drop lightly. The parson twisted the big man around by one +muscular exertion and looked into his flushed face. + +“Don’t you think you’ve said enough to the young lady?” Hunt asked +quietly. “You have evidently forgotten yourself.” + +“What—why, you fool tenderfoot!” + +“Suppose you go, Miss Blossom,” suggested Hunt with unruffled voice. +“Let me speak to this man.” + +But the minister had quite mistaken Nell Blossom’s temper. She turned on +him like a shot. + +“What are you butting in for, I’d like to know? I can take care of +myself—always have and always expect to.” Then she laughed harshly, +turning to Tolley again. “Better beat it, Tolley, or the parson will do +something to you besides grabbing your hat.” + +The dance-hall keeper, swearing still, jerked away from Hunt’s grasp. He +did not seek to continue the quarrel, however. He abruptly turned up the +alley and disappeared. + +“For goodness’ sake, Ford!” ejaculated Miss Betty. + +Nell Blossom, thus attracted to the other girl, stepped nearer and +stared at her. Her own face was unsmiling. If it had not been so really +pretty one might have said it was a black look that she gave Betty. But +it was an impish look, too. + +“There are some things you’d better learn if you are going to stay in +this camp, parson,” said the singer. “The principal thing is to mind +your own business. If I ever need your help in any little thing, I’ll +call on you.” + +She passed them both, still staring—now with curiosity—at Betty and went +on along the street. Betty seized her brother’s arm. + +“What a horrid little creature!” she said. + + + + +CHAPTER XI—THE STORM ABOUT TO BURST + + +There was a strangely paradoxical feeling in the Reverend Willett Ford +Hunt’s mind. Nell Blossom was a subject of thought he could not escape. +He could not wholly overlook her manners and speech; yet he did not feel +that she was blameworthy for either. + +What chance had this wild blossom of a girl ever had, out in this +wilderness, the daughter of a drunken ne’er-do-well, as he had been +told, taught from her childhood to sing for her own living and for her +father’s in the saloons of mining camps? Why, almost any other girl +would have gone bad—as bad as could be. And he knew Nell Blossom was not +bad. + +He really wished he might make Joe Hurley his confidant about the girl, +but, harking back to that letter of Joe’s in which the latter had spoken +so enthusiastically of Nell, the parson felt that his friend was too +strongly prejudiced in Nell’s favor to risk his criticizing her in any +way. + +One question recurred again and again to him: What did that man Tolley, +who he knew was the proprietor of the Grub Stake saloon and dance hall, +mean by commanding Nell to return to his employment? + +Betty saw her brother’s more serious mien, and it must be confessed, +wickedly hoped that the situation as it opened before him here at Canyon +Pass was beginning to appall him. How could it do otherwise? Let alone +the crudeness and lack of conveniences in their dwelling place, the +nature of the people with whom they must associate, and the utter +forlornness of life here in the mining town, that last incident as they +walked back from the Great Hope Mine should impress Ford with the utter +impracticability of his trying to begin a pastorate here. + +The awful ruffian who had sworn at the girl—horrid as she seemed to +be—shocked Betty beyond expression. And what a look that Nell Blossom, +she had asked her brother the singer’s name, had given her, Betty Hunt! +As unfriendly, as hateful, as though the Eastern girl had done the +singer some grievous wrong. + +The strange girl had insulted and flouted Ford, too. Betty’s loyalty to +her brother was up in arms at that, if the truth were told. She could +not but admire after all Ford’s cool assumption of authority with the +ruffian and with the cabaret singer as well. Why, Ford did not seem to +be afraid of these people at all. Even Joe Hurley could have been no +more sure of himself in such a situation than her brother had proved to +be. + +For in spite of her disapproval of the mining man she realized that Joe +was perfectly able to handle such situations and such rude people with +equanimity. But then, he was of this soil. He was of the West. To tell +the truth, Betty was inclined to think of Hurley as being quite as bad +in manners, speech, and outlook on life as the other people of Canyon +Pass. + +She would say nothing about all this to her brother. Betty Hunt was +quite capable of thinking things out for herself. Prejudiced she had +been—and was—against the town and their visit to it; but she did not +utterly lack logic. She went to bed that second night in the Wild Rose +Hotel with somewhat different thoughts in her mind after all. At least, +she did not drag the washstand in front of her locked door as a barrier. + +In the morning the mining man appeared at the door of the hotel riding +his big bay and leading two other saddled horses. The freight wagons had +come in the evening before, and Betty had got her trunks. Out of one she +had resurrected the riding habit which she had not worn of late, but +which still fitted her perfectly and was chic. + +But Betty was daunted by the look of the mount Hurley had selected for +her. + +“Mr. Hurley!” exclaimed Betty emphatically, “on your honor, is that +horse safe?” + +“As safe as a church. You hitch him on a railroad track, and he’d only +step just far enough aside for the lightning express to go by without +shaving him.” + +She looked at him, both puzzled and disapproving. “I never know when you +are serious,” she finally said. + +“You can bet your last blue chip on the fact that I am taking no chances +of a hoss throwing you or cutting up rusty while you’re on his back,” +the man returned earnestly. “Hardscrabble is all right, Miss Betty.” + +He offered his hand to Betty for her to step into with all the grace of +a courtier. He looked up into her eyes, too, as she mounted past his +shoulder into the saddle, and his smile was so friendly that she could +not help smiling in return. + +Hunt swung himself on to his own mount—a rather rangy cayuse that +promised speed as well as endurance. Hurley bounded into his own saddle +from the step without touching the stirrups until he was seated. Bouncer +stood up on his hind legs, snorted, came down stiff-legged, and bucked +once just to show that he was in fine fettle. The other horses cantered +away from the hotel more sedately. + +They spattered through the West Fork and went into the canyon along the +river trail. There was not a soul in sight but themselves when they +turned the first out-thrust of the cliff. Runaway River brawled in its +bed. The huge, threatening cap of the Overhang cast its shadow almost to +the opposite wall. The mighty rocks, the deep cracks in which the brush +clung with tenuous roots, the wind-wrung, anguished, stunted trees, all +held the visitors spellbound. Such a devil’s slot in the hills they +could never have imagined without actually seeing it. + +“Suppose that should fall?” Betty broke out pointing up at the frowning +cap of the cliff. + +“That’s what we are supposing all the time, Miss Betty,” replied Hurley +quietly. “Part of it did fall about twenty years ago. That was long +before my time, of course. But Bill Judson and some of the other +old-timers can tell you about it. It came pretty near ringing the +death-knell for Canyon Pass.” + +“Backed up the river into the town, did it?” asked the logical Hunt. + +“I’ll say it did! And over the town. Judson says it was so deep over his +store that he went out from the headlands in a flatboat and grappled +through the skylight of his joint for tobacco out of the showcase. Takes +that old-timer to spread it on thick,” and he chuckled. + +“But is it likely to happen again?” cried Betty. + +“Any day—any hour—any minute,” repeated Hurley quietly. “There are +thousands of tons of stuff up there that may fall. Choke the canyon +half-wall high. If it does, there’ll be a lake here that’ll furnish +water enough to irrigate blame near all of the Topaz Desert—believe me. +Canyon Pass will have to go into raising frogs or such,” and he laughed. + +“Oh! I felt that it was a dangerous place to live in,” murmured Betty. + +“Great saltpeter!” exclaimed Hurley again. “No worse than folks who live +on the sides of volcanoes in Italy, for instance. Or in the earthquake +belt along the Pacific coast. Pshaw!” + +“But—but there is so much room out here, Mr. Hurley,” cried Betty. “Why +not choose a safer place in which to establish a town?” + +“The mines and washings. Gold established Canyon Pass. It isn’t a +beautiful spot, but it’s handy. We got to just keep on hoping that the +Overhang doesn’t fall.” + +“There is a place where some of it has fallen—and recently,” Hunt broke +in, with some gravity. + +Half blocking the trail, and bulking along the river’s edge for perhaps +ten yards, was a heap of gravel and soil on which no grass or other +verdure grew. Looking up the sloping canyon wall they could trace the +downfall of this small slide for more than half the distance to the +summit. + +“What is that sticking out of it?” asked Betty. “A stick?” + +Hurley sniffed like a bird-dog that has just raised a covey. He was to +windward of the heap. Hunt had forced his mount nearer from the other +side. + +“That is not a stick,” he said quietly. “It looks to me like——” + +Hurley ejaculated something that was very near an oath. He flung himself +out of his saddle and strode over the rubble. He stopped and examined +the thing Betty had seen, even touching it with his gauntleted hand. + +“Never heard of this,” he muttered. “Odd, I must say!” + +“What is it?” asked Hunt. + +“A horse’s leg. Been pecked clean by the vultures—not by coyotes, or the +bones would be torn apart. Well!” + +“Oh, there has been a dreadful accident here! Is somebody buried under +that pile of gravel?” demanded Betty. + +“Not likely. Just a cayuse. Maybe a wandering critter. Happened to be +right here—taking a drink at the riverside, maybe—when the slide fell. +Or it might have been the cause of the slip. Came down with it,” Hurley +explained in jerky sentences. “The weight of the hoss might have broke +off a piece of the Overhang and—here he is!” + +This seemed to satisfy him. He went back to his own horse and mounted +again. + +They rode several miles farther, but Joe Hurley did not seem quite so +volatile as usual. Was he “studying” on the buried horse by the +riverside? At least, when they rode back toward noon, he fell behind at +the point where the small landslip had landed, halting his horse beside +it for a moment. He overtook his friends in a short time, however, but +did not say anything. + +As they sighted the ford again, down from the upland on this side came a +dashing and brilliant-hued figure—a girl on a cream-colored pony. Hunt +recognized Nell Blossom at first glance. + +“Hi, Nell!” shouted Hurley, raising his hand and arm, palm out, in the +Indian peace sign. + +She scarcely nodded to him, but she grinned elfishly as she rode down +into the shallows and her pony’s flying feet spattered them all at the +river’s edge. She scarcely seemed to give Hunt and his sister a glance. +She plied the quirt that hung from her wrist, and the cream-colored pony +recklessly forded the stream and climbed the further bank. + +“How impolite,” murmured the Eastern girl, brushing the drops from her +sleeve. + +“She’s a little devil,” agreed Hurley frankly. “That’s the lady I was +telling you of, Willie. She’s as wild as a jack rabbit.” + +Hunt nodded soberly. He made no other comment. As they rode up into Main +Street they heard wild yells and hootings from the far end, then the +pattering of a pony’s rapid hoofbeats. Back toward the ford tore the +cream-colored pony bearing the bizarre figure of the cabaret singer. + +Now Nell rode without touching the bridle reins. She swung the whip and +cracked it sharply. In the other hand she gripped a six-shooter of +practical size and weight. + +“What is the matter with that crazy creature?” asked Betty. + +Hurley merely laughed. Nell Blossom approached at a wild gallop. Men +appeared at the doors of various stores and saloons along the street and +yelled their delight. + +“Ye-yip! Yip-py-yip!” shrieked the appreciative audience. “Oh, you Nell! +Ye-_yow_! Git out o’ town!” + +The girl, her face glowing, her hair flying from under her hat, her +whole figure electric with life and abundance of spirit, rode faster and +faster. As she approached the front of the Grub Stake she saw the +slouching figure of its proprietor backed against the wall by the door, +smoking. He grinned evilly at the rider. + +Nell pressed the trigger. Five staccato shots whistled skyward. The +sixth ruffled the lank hair on Boss Tolley’s head and splintered the +door frame just above it! + +The divekeeper dodged and crouched, as though expecting another bullet. +He almost slunk into his barroom. Then he realized that the girl had +made a show of him and was riding on, applauded by the laughter and +shrieks of the onlookers. + +He whirled, and, lifting both hands, shook the clenched fists after the +flying Nell. He was almost apoplectic with rage. He burst forth: + +“You crazy, derned hoptoad of a gal! Somebody ought to grab you off that +animal. Shootin’ at folks thataway! Is that what you done when you drove +poor Dick Beckworth over the edge of the Overhang?” + +The incoming trio of riders—Hurley, Hunt and Betty—were almost opposite +the Grub Stake as Tolley emitted these words. In a flash the mining man +was out of the saddle and standing in front of the startled Tolley. + +“What do you mean, you miserable scoundrel?” demanded Joe in so +threatening a tone that Tolley fell back against the side of the +building again. “What do you mean about Dick Beckworth?” + +Hunt had spurred his own horse nearer. He feared Joe would do something +rash. The rolling, bloodshot eye of the divekeeper expressed fear of the +other; but he was too much enraged to call caution to his aid at that +moment. + +“I mean what I say,” he rumbled. “You don’t know it, and nobody else in +Canyon Pass, I reckon, knows it but me. But I know that derned crazy gal +was the cause of Dick Beckworth’s end. And a mean end it was.” + +“Dick the Devil, _dead_?” + +“That’s what he is,” said Tolley with less vehemence. He sensed that it +would not be wise to be so vociferous with Joe Hurley’s eyes glaring +into his own. “Dick come to a mighty mean end. I seen it; but I didn’t +know what it meant.” + +“It’s more likely you killed him, Tolley—if he’s dead. Or did you have +him gunned by Tom Hicks or some other of your friends?” demanded Hurley +sharply. + +“I never! Poor Dick wasn’t expectin’ nawthin’, I allow. That crazy +gal——” + +“Be blamed easy how you bring Nell’s name into this,” muttered Hurley, +his hand upon the butt of his own gun. + +Hunt leaned from his saddle and laid his hand upon his friend’s +shoulder. Hurley did not look back—he knew better, for there was +likewise a gun at Boss Tolley’s belt. + +“All right, Willie,” the mining man said. “Let’s listen to what this rat +has to say. But be blame careful, Tolley, that you don’t raise your +voice too high. If you do, I’ll certainly maul you a pile.” + + + + +CHAPTER XII—TOLLEY’S TALE + + +Hunt had a feeling that he was present at one of those tense scenes of a +Western cinema drama, where the heroic gunman holds the villain under +the muzzle of his lethal weapon. + +He might have leaned from his horse again and plucked both Joe Hurley’s +gun and that of the divekeeper from their holsters. But he thought twice +about that. Neither of the men was in the mood to brook interference. +Besides, the parson was keenly alive to the mystery manifested in +Tolley’s words regarding Nell Blossom and the man called Dick the Devil. + +Nobody else was near enough to have overheard what passed between Tolley +and Joe Hurley. None of the other Passonians, amused by Nell’s wild +escapade, drew nearer, and Betty had ridden on to the hotel, refusing to +betray the least interest in such a rude scene. + +“Speak up, Tolley!” commanded Hurley again. “You’ve been telling us Dick +Beckworth went to Denver to deal faro at a gambling house there. Now you +come out with such a thing as this—mixing Nell’s name up in some blamed +lie about Dick’s being killed.” + +“He was killed. It was murder—or mighty close to it. And that gal——” + +He halted again. There was something in Joe Hurley’s eyes that stopped +him. + +“Suppose you start this thing right,” said the mine owner more quietly. +“I understand Dick Beckworth left town the morning old Steve and Andy +McCann broke out, the same as usual, this spring?” + +“And the same morning that gal left me and the Grub Stake flat, and went +kitin’ off,” retorted Tolley. + +“Well, let’s hear the particulars.” + +“I didn’t know Nell had gone at first.” He winced, having spoken the +girl’s name again, because of the darting threat from Hurley’s brown +eyes. “When Dick told me he was off I didn’t scarce believe him. But +then I seen him and that—er—gal riding down to the ford. I thought they +was up to some game. Anyway, I thought I could talk Dick into coming +back. He was the best dealer I ever had.” + +“Well?” snapped Hurley. + +“I saddled a hoss and went after them. They’d followed the wagon track +to the top of the cliff. But I thought they’d took the river trail. When +I got a piece along the road, I heard something go _bam_—a fall of rock, +or something, down the cliff. I hurried my nag and come around a turn +where I could see. I looked up—never thought to look ahead along the +edge of Runaway River, I see her—Nell—looking over the edge of the +cliff. + +“I see then I was follering the wrong lead,” pursued Tolley. “I didn’t +think much about the slip I’d heard—not then. I wanted to get at Dick. +So I turned back, got to the foot of the wagon track up the cliff +yonder,” he pointed, “and hurried after them. + +“When I got up there neither of ’em was in sight. I hustled along the +road and went clean past the fork of the Hoskins’ trail. Never thought +of either of ’em going to that dump,” grumbled Tolley. + +“Well, I give it up after a while. I thought I’d lost too much time, +starting out wrong at first as I had. They was too fast for me. So I +rode back. It wasn’t till then, when I come to that place I’d seen Nell +looking over from, that I saw how big a lump had broke off the edge of +the Overhang.” + +Hurley sucked in his breath sharply. “Go on!” was all he said. + +“I looked down there. I seen how big the slide was. And I seen something +more. There was something sticking out of that heap of stuff on the +river bank. I couldn’t be sure, but I thought it was the hind parts of a +hoss, only upside down. + +“I pushed my hoss along the river trail again and come to the heap of +stuff that had come down the cliff. It hadn’t come down alone.” + +Hunt, listening as closely as Hurley, had no idea how his friend felt; +but for his own part his flesh crawled at the inference he drew from +Tolley’s tale. The man let his last words sink into their minds for +fully a minute before he went on. + +“It hit me right where I lived. Something bad had happened. It hadn’t +happened to the gal. So I figgered it must be Dick. + +“And I wasn’t mistook,” continued Tolley with a certain satisfaction in +his tone. “I’d been right when I thought there was a hoss in that pile +of gravel. There was—but not much of it stickin’ out. However, I clawed +down to the saddle, undid it, and hauled it out. It was Dick’s all +right. I got it now stuck into the bottom of my big safe.” + +“But where was Dick?” demanded Hurley. + +“How should _I_ know?” retorted the other. “Maybe under the heap—but I +didn’t think so. I reckon he was throwed clean into the river. And you +know what the current of Runaway River is!” + +Hurley groaned. + +“Wait!” said Hunt suddenly. “The man you call Dick might not have gone +over the cliff with the horse. You did not see the accident.” + +“He didn’t come back to town. And he wouldn’t have gone on afoot to +Hoskins or any place else,” Tolley said surlily. “Nobody ain’t seen him +around yere from that day to this.” + +“And you lied about Dick and kept it under your hat all this time?” was +Hurley’s comment. + +“Well, I had a right, didn’t I?” blustered Tolley. + +“Every right in the world.” The mining man spoke evenly now, coldly. +“And you’ve got a better right to keep the story to yourself right +along.” + +“What d’ye mean?” + +“What I say. Keep your mouth shut about it. Don’t let me hear of you +opening your yawp the way you did just now. I don’t half believe this +yarn, anyway. You couldn’t tell _all_ the truth about anything, Tolley. +The truth isn’t in you. But sometimes a half-truth does more harm than a +whole lie. You stick to your first story about Dick the Devil going to +Denver. Understand?” + +“I don’t understand why I should do what you say, Hurley.” + +The latter patted the butt of his own gun. “Notice that?” he said with a +deadly fierceness that shocked Hunt. “If you repeat this yarn, I’ll come +after you. And if I come after you, Tolley, I’ll get you!” + +He went back to the waiting Bouncer and mounted into the saddle without +another word or a glance at Tolley. But Hunt, his nerves strained to a +tension he had never before experienced, watched the owner of the Grub +Stake sharply. Hurley’s disregard of the fellow amazed the man from the +East. He did not realize that Tolley was so unstrung that he could not +have hit the broad side of a barn if he had drawn his gun. But Joe +Hurley knew it. + +The two young men rode on to the door of the hotel, both silent. Cholo +Sam was watching Betty’s pony. The girl had dismounted and gone up to +her room. + +“Joe, what is going to be the end of this?” asked Hunt in a low voice. + +“I don’t know, Willie.” + +“Will you speak——” + +“To Nell? Not on your life!” + +“But the truth will come out some time. Who was that Dick?” + +Hurley told him. He went further and told of the interest the cabaret +singer had shown in the gambler for some time previous to Dick’s +disappearance—before Nell had gone to Hoskins to sing in the Tin Can +Saloon. + +“It—it looks bad,” faltered Hunt. + +“Bad is no name for it.” + +“The girl should be questioned.” + +“Not by me!” cried Hurley. “I don’t think Tolley will run the risk of +speaking to her about it,” he added. + +“He has already,” said Hunt. + +He explained about what he and Betty had overheard pass between Nell +Blossom and the owner of the Grub Stake the evening previous. + +“Great saltpeter!” gasped Hurley. “Then that’s why Nell cut that caper +just now. She didn’t do it just for deviltry. She was warning Tolley on +her own hook.” + +“Joe, there must be no bloodshed over this. If one man has died, that is +enough,” Hunt said sternly. “We must get at the truth.” + +“Not me!” cried Hurley again. “I wouldn’t tackle Nell for a farm.” + +“And—and you are so close to her—know her so well?” murmured Hunt. + +“That ain’t no never-mind,” the mining man said earnestly. “That girl’s +got teeth, I tell you.” + +“But she is in danger. She must be questioned.” + +“Great saltpeter! You wouldn’t get nothing out of Nell Blossom—nothing +that she didn’t want to tell.” + +“She should be convinced that her greater danger lies in silence.” + +“Convince Nell? What did I tell you, Willie? You couldn’t make her do a +thing, or even see a thing, that she did not want to do or see.” + +“There is one thing I can do,” said Hunt finally. + +“What’s that, Willie?” and his friend sighed. + +“Find me a pickax and shovel.” + +“What’s that?” + +“A pickax and a shovel. At once.” + +“Great——Say, that’s a new one. I never thought of getting an idea into +Nell Blossom’s stubborn head with those tools. But it might work at +that,” and Hurley rode off to get the instruments of labor, but without +a smile. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII—PLANS ARE MADE + + +Hurley brought back with him two shovels instead of one, and the pick. +The two young men took a roundabout way to the ford so that Boss Tolley +might not spy them and suspect where they were going. + +They did not talk much. Both were thinking too deeply—were much too +disturbed by the uprearing of this tragic thing—for idle chatter. Hunt +wondered how his friend really thought of Nell Blossom. For his own part +he was heavily depressed by this thing that had come to light. + +The situation threatened serious consequences for the cabaret singer. In +a more law-abiding community the coroner’s office would have summoned +Nell Blossom for examination if the district attorney did not. And in +any case, Hunt believed, the whole miserable business must come at last +to the light of day. + +It was past noon when Hunt and his friend arrived at that heap of dirt +and débris that had before attracted their attention. But neither of +them thought of the hour or of the midday meal. + +Hunt, dismounting, allowed the reins to trail upon the ground before his +horse’s nose as he saw Hurley did with Bouncer. Both animals were well +trained. He removed coat, vest, and Tom Hicks’ broad-brimmed hat which +he still affected. Rolling up his sleeves he seized the pick and went at +the task with the skill as well as the strength of a trained +ditch-digger. Hurley admired the parson’s ability thus displayed. + +“Some boy, you, Willie. I’ll tell the world you know something besides +pounding the pulpit. Where’s that shovel?” + +They uncovered the dead animal and threw it into the swift, deep current +of the Runaway. + +They did not cease digging, however, until every square yard of the +fallen soil and rubble from the top of the cliff had been combed over. +They covered one section with the upturned windrow of another. Nothing +which had fallen with that fatal landslide remained unseen. But what +they had feared to find was not in evidence. + +“Either Tolley’s guess was right, or Dick Beckworth never came down that +wall with his horse,” Hurley said with finality. + +Hunt nodded, finally leaning on his spade. “At least, we have satisfied +our own minds,” he said. “That is something.” + +“And mighty little. Dick isn’t here. I bet a thousand he didn’t go to +Hoskins with Nell. He wouldn’t have walked in any case. Then, where the +devil is he?” + +“That is not the main question,” rejoined the parson thoughtfully. “The +principal thing is to get at the truth about this accident. What +happened up there at the top of the cliff? Did the man come down with +the horse and these several tons of gravel and soil? And if he came +down, what became of his body?” + +“Great saltpeter!” Hurley brought out his uncouth ejaculation with a new +emphasis. “Do you suppose Tolley, after all, knows more about that than +Nell does?” + +“What?” Then Hunt understood. “It might be,” he said slowly. “Evidently +Tolley was not pleased by that gambler’s leaving him, any more than he +was pleased by Miss Blossom’s leaving him. It might be——” + +“It might be,” finished Hurley with vigor, “that Boss Tolley is dragging +a skunk after him to fool the hounds.” + +Hunt admitted the truth of this rather homely expression. “All the more +reason why the girl must be questioned,” he said. + +“You’re crazy, Willie!” cried Hurley. “You will get nothing out of +Nell—if she doesn’t want to talk. And if she knows anything at all about +this, and is at all connected with the matter of Dick’s disappearance, +you can just bet she’s got good reason for keeping her lips closed.” + +“For her own sake, she should confide in us—in you, at least. She will +need our help and our support if this comes out.” + +“She’s got mine, whether or no,” Hurley said, slinging on his belt and +gun again. + +Perhaps Hunt thought he spoke significantly as he hitched the weapon +into place. He wagged a disagreeing head. + +“That sort of support will not save Nell Blossom’s soul,” he observed +thoughtfully. “To blow off Tolley’s head will not help her one iota in +cleansing her mind and heart of anguish if she has guilty knowledge of +that man’s death—if he is dead.” + +“I tell you that Dick the Devil was well named,” cried Hurley furiously. +“Why some man before this had not beaten him to death is a mystery. If +Nell shot him off the edge of that cliff, he got what was coming to him, +and no more.” + +“Oh!” murmured Hunt, with a shudder. “It might not be that she has such +a terrible sin as that on her conscience!” + +“I don’t give a hang,” returned his friend. “If she had, there ain’t +twelve men in Canyon County that would convict her of it. Don’t tell +me!” + +“Oh, Joe! You don’t see. You don’t understand,” urged his friend sadly. +“What matters man’s conviction of her crime? It is of what her own heart +may convict her.” + +“’Twouldn’t bother me none if I’d sent Dick the Devil over that cliff,” +declared Hurley. “But I leave it to you, parson. You maybe know more +about such things than I do. To tell the truth, you do. Otherwise I +wouldn’t have had any hopes of your doing any good in Canyon Pass. Maybe +you know more about womankind than I do, as well,” he added, a bitter +smile wreathing his lips once more. “I wish you all the luck in the +world when you tackle Nell Blossom on this topic. But I wouldn’t be in +your shoes for half my stock in the Great Hope.” + +Anxious as he was made by the outbreak of this affair the Reverend +Willett Ford Hunt did not forget the work that he earnestly hoped to +begin in Canyon Pass. Nor did he delay in laying plans for the efforts +he hoped would aid in changing the moral tone of the town. + +It was that evening in the Three Star Grocery where he went with Joe +Hurley that the first tentative plan was discussed. Jib Collins, who +seemed to have been much impressed by the young minister on Sunday +afternoon, was there, as well as the old storekeeper himself. With them +several of the more sober citizens joined in conversation. + +Hunt struck while the iron was hot. The first thing, he thought, was to +find some place in which services could be held on Sunday. He had seen +at least one empty store, or warehouse, he told them, which might be +cleaned out and put into fairly decent shape. He had looked into the +windows. There was a dingy sign on the front which said it was for sale. + +“Dad burn it, parson!” exclaimed Judson, “you must mean that old place +of Tolley’s.” + +“Tolley?” repeated Hunt with disappointment. “Does it belong to that +man?” + +“Sure does,” said Jib Collins. + +“It used to be where Tolley had his honkytonk before he built his bigger +place. He owns it, of course,” Hurley remarked. + +“Then I presume we could scarcely count on getting it,” said Hunt with +reflection. “Tolley is vigorously opposed, I understand, to this thing +we wish to do.” + +“Hold on,” put in the storekeeper. “Let’s study on it. In the first +place, you all keep it under your hats, and maybe I can do something +with Tolley.” + +“You’ll do a fat lot with him,” prophesied Collins. + +“Mebbe so. We’ll see. How ’bout that ‘wisdom of sarpints’ the Good Book +speaks of, parson?” said the storekeeper. “You lemme try to fix it with +Tolley. That’s all.” + +“Oh, we’ll leave it to you, old-timer,” Hurley said laughingly. “Nobody +will begrudge you that job.” + +“If we get that place—or some other—we must have seats,” Hunt went on. +“There are many things to think of—and many things to get together +before next Sunday. A week is none too long to prepare for such a work.” + +“And a pulpit,” Collins proposed. “Me and Cale could knock up a +pulpit—of a kind. We are some carpenters—me and Cale. If I can get him +to help.” + +Hunt was perfectly willing to put such burdens as he might upon the +friendly citizens of Canyon Pass. In fact, that is just what he wanted +them to do—take hold of the new idea as though they really supported it. +The discussion, although of generalities, brought forth some concrete +results. + +Judson knew that Tolley was anxious to do something with the old shack. +Judson intimated that he expected to need more room for goods. He did +not say exactly when he would need it; but he got Tolley down to an +agreement, and they made a bargain. The storekeeper paid a nominal rent +for the shack six months in advance, agreeing to make such repairs as +the place might need himself. + +The business was kept secret, although Collins and Cale Mack went to +work on their part of the job the very next day. Others collected seats +and a few other furnishings. Everything was of the plainest; even the +pulpit was built of unpainted boards. But Hunt saw that the place was +clean. + +Judson furnished lamps from his stock. “We’ll want evening meetings, +too,” he said. “After we get to going, I mean. It won’t be a bad idea to +commence running a show that will compete with the Grub Stake and +Colorado Brown’s and those other joints. The boys drop into the saloons +because there ain’t another derned place in the town to go to after +dark.” + +On Wednesday Hunt, walking toward the mines, confronted unexpectedly the +withered, baldheaded man he had carried home over his shoulder on Sunday +morning. Sam Tubbs stopped him. + +“I reckon you’re the parson, ain’t you?” he asked, cocking his head in a +birdlike way to look up at Hunt. “My old woman is right smart anxious to +see you again. That woman’s all for this here religion they say you are +going to deal out to the boys. Says she’s got something for you.” + +“Thank you, Mr. Tubbs. I will go around and call on her.” + +“Well, you can if you like. Miz Tubbs is pretty nigh big enough to be +her own boss, and what I say don’t affect her no more than as though I +shot my mouth off in the middle of Topaz Desert. That’s a fact. I hear +you are a pretty decent feller, as parsons go; but I might as well tell +you right now that I ain’t—and don’t ever mean to be—a convert.” + +“I shall like you none the less for that, Mr. Tubbs,” said Hunt, smiling +and offering his hand. “A man must always decide for himself, you know. +I shall be glad to have you come to hear me preach; but you need not +believe a word I say unless your own mind tells you I am right.” + +“Huh!” grunted Sam, rather staggered. “That sounds fair. Mebbe I will +come to hear you—sometime. If you last long enough.” + +This opinion—that the parson would not last in his attempt to uplift +Canyon Pass—seemed to be the view of the general run of Passonians. + +He had a few very enthusiastic coworkers, however. He found one when he +went to call upon Mother Tubbs. + +“It’s been in my heart for many a long day, Brother Hunt,” the old woman +said. “This here holding meetings, and the like. I said a long time back +I’d give a pretty if a man of God would come in here and shake this camp +like a snowslide in the mountains. We need to get a mighty bump. +Youbetcha! + +“Now the time’s come, I’m just as excited as a gal going to her first +dance. I can’t make Sam enthuse none; and I’m disappointed in Nell, I do +say. But I am going to do all I can myself to boost your job for you.” + +“Thank you, Sister Tubbs,” said the young parson. “Is Miss Blossom +here?” + +“She’s upstairs a-dressin’. But I don’t reckon she’ll give you much but +the rough side of her tongue. Lately, Nell seems to be bewitched. Think +of her ridin’ her pony up and down the street the other day, shootin’ +and cavortin’ like a drunken cow-puncher! She puts on these didoes jest +for devilment. And she ain’t got a good word for you and your plans, +Brother Hunt.” + +“Well,” said the parson calmly, “perhaps things will change with her in +time. We won’t worry.” + +“I’m glad you can take it so calm,” said Mother Tubbs, sniffing. “Now, +come in yere. This is what I got for you.” + +She led the way into the inner room, half bedroom and half sitting room, +the principal room in the shack. There was a small center table. On it +was a huge tome with tarnished brass clasps—a bulky volume that had +evidently seen much rough usage. Mother Tubbs put her hand upon it +proudly. + +“See that, Brother Hunt?” she said. “It’s the old Bible out of the Blue +Lick Chapel down in Arkansas. The chapel burned down when I was a gal; +but the Bible was saved. When my folks moved out thisaway we brung it +with us, and it’s been in the bottom of an old trunk of mine for forty +year. Now it comes to light.” She opened it with care. “I reckon you got +all the Bibles you need to work with. But I do like to see a big one +like this on the pulpit for show.” + +“This is most thoughtful and kind of you, Sister Tubbs,” declared Hunt, +understanding the spirit of pride and reverence in which the old woman +had offered the book. “I shall see that it rests on our pulpit.” + +At that moment Nell Blossom came into the room from the stairway. She +nodded to him bruskly, but offered him no welcoming hand. + +“I declare, Nell,” complained the old woman, “you ain’t going out +without a word to the parson, are you?” + +“I’ve no particular word for the parson,” returned the girl, a glint of +ice in her blue eyes. + +“If you will allow me to say so, Miss Blossom,” said Hunt quietly, “I +have a particular word for you.” + +She stared at him angrily. He picked up his hat from the chair. + +“If you are going out,” he said, “I will walk along with you and say +what I have to say.” + +“Humph! I can’t stop you from walking up Mulligan Lane. It’s free,” +returned the girl most ungraciously and walked ahead of him out of the +house. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV—THE GREAT DAY ARRIVES + + +Hunt caught up with Nell Blossom when she had passed through the gap in +the barrelstave picket-fence, and his length of stride easily kept him +beside the girl. Unless Nell broke into a run she could scarcely leave +the parson out of earshot. + +“Miss Blossom,” he began, “my interference in your affairs calls for no +excuse. I have no vulgar curiosity. You tell me to mind my own business. +But when I see another in trouble it is my business to offer aid.” + +“I am not in trouble,” she answered sharply. Then, with scorn: “And if I +was, I wouldn’t want a parson’s help.” + +“No. But a friend’s help? I assure you I am your friend.” + +She now looked at him rather curiously, but her expression did not +soften in the least. Doubt, scorn, a real dislike of the man who sought +to gain her confidence struggled to gain the mastery of her pretty +features. + +“I don’t know you, I’ve only seen you a few times. I don’t make friends +so easy——” + +“We don’t make friends in this world, Miss Blossom. We win them whether +we would or not. You have won my friendly feeling because I know that +you are troubled. I know what your trouble is, and I believe I can help +you.” + +His downrightness startled Nell, and she stopped and stared at him. + +“You can’t help me if I don’t want your help,” she cried in secret +panic. + +“I cannot help you so much if you deny me your confidence,” he admitted. +“But I stand ready to help you.” + +“You’d better sit down,” she shot at him. “You’ll have a long wait +standing for me to get confidential with you, Mr. Parson.” + +“Consider,” said Hunt seriously, unshaken. “We cannot any of us afford +to refuse an honest offer of sympathy and assistance.” + +“What are you trying to do?” she asked with suspicion. “Trying to +squeeze something out of me? You parsons!” + +She muttered the phrase disdainfully. He put her rudeness aside without +change of countenance. His placidity, his assurance, began to shake +Nell’s confidence in herself more than any other thing. + +“I have heard something. I have seen something. I know that if you will +listen to me—perhaps accept and follow some advice I may give you—you +will be benefited,” he said. + +“In what way, I should like to know?” she asked jeeringly. + +“In your heart. In your mind and conscience.” + +“Well!” She was silent again for a moment, but her face did not change +in its expression, “Well, you can talk, I reckon,” and she moved on +slowly again. “There ain’t any law against talking in Canyon Pass—yet.” + +“From the few words I heard that man, Tolley, say to you on Sunday +evening, I know that he threatened you,” Hunt said directly. + +“That beast!” + +“He thinks he has knowledge that will make you trouble if spread +broadcast in the town.” + +“Let him dare!” + +Her face was suddenly that of a young and beautiful fury. Hunt shook his +head, saying softly: + +“Killing him would not remove the cause of your trouble, Nell Blossom.” + +She turned on him again, her little fists clenched. + +“How much do you know? Out with it!” she commanded. + +“I will tell you what Tolley says.” + +“So you’ve been snooping and prying, have you?” she queried, her rage +almost suffocating her. + +“I will tell you what Tolley says,” repeated Hunt. And he did so calmly, +dispassionately, as though he were relating a series of common facts. +“That man’s horse was under the fall from the cliff. The man’s body is +not there—if he fell with the horse.” Nell did not even wince, still +staring into his eyes, her own as hard as flint. “Those are all the +facts in my possession, Miss Blossom.” + +She remained silent. She had recovered both her regular breathing and +her composed manner. He could only read in her features a determination +that was adamant. + +“Will you answer a few questions?” he ventured. + +“Out with them!” + +“What caused the horse to fall?” + +“You gump! He fell because the bank gave way,” she replied rudely. + +“What became of his rider?” + +“I don’t know.” + +“Did you leave him at that spot?” + +She waited a moment. Then, as harshly as before: + +“Yes.” + +“You have not seen him since? Or communicated with him?” + +“Dick Beckworth? I should say not!” + +“Do you know what became of him?” + +A bitter, sneering smile marred her lips. “I know what Tolley says—that +he’s in Denver.” + +“Tolley proposes to deny that now,” Hunt said softly. + +“Let him. One lie is as good as another, and Boss Tolley’s full of +them.” + +“Will you help me discover if Beckworth is alive?” + +“I tell you once for all, I don’t want anything more to do with Dick the +Devil. I don’t want to even hear about him.” + +“Then you and he quarreled?” + +The mistake was fatal, and the parson knew it the instant he had said +the unwise words. But he could not recall them. + +“See here, Parson Hunt! you’re making a nuisance of yourself. I want to +tell you that no tenderfoot will get far in Canyon Pass if he begins as +you have. I’ve got nothing to tell you. I won’t talk to you. I don’t +want a thing to do with you. Now! Am I plain enough?” + +She walked on stoutly, her head up, her cheeks aflame. For a few yards +he walked quietly beside her. Then he lifted his hat and turned aside. +When Nell had disappeared, Hunt sadly shook his head. + +“I fear,” he told himself, “that I have made a bad beginning.” + +Circumstances that followed proved that his suspicion was correct. In +less than twenty-four hours he heard that without a doubt he had made +another enemy. + +“I don’t know how it is, parson,” said Bill Judson shaking a mournful +head, “but that little devil, Nell Blossom, is on the warpath. And she’s +after your scalp.” + +“It is stuck on pretty tightly, Mr. Judson,” Hunt replied with a smile. + +“’Tain’t no laughing matter. Nell has a terrible drag with the boys. If +she don’t have you run out of town, she may try to bust up your show. +She says you’re a mischief-maker, and all that. She’s plumb down on +parsons.” + +“We will have to convince her that the tribe is harmless.” + +“Not much chance,” said Judson, who evidently shared Hurley’s opinion of +Nell’s obstinacy. + +“Time will cure all that,” said the parson, with more apparent +confidence than he really felt. + +While preparations were going forward for the first meeting with +satisfactory speed, Hunt heard on every hand of the gathering forces of +opposition. + +Nell Blossom had resurrected the old song, “This Is No Place for a +Minister’s Son,” and in a ridiculous clerical make-up sang it each night +in Colorado Brown’s place. Passing along the street to his hotel Hunt +heard the chorus roared by the men who applauded the cabaret singer. He +was met with more jeering laughter wherever he went than before; and he +realized that ridicule would do the good cause more harm than any other +form of opposition. + +Joe Hurley was very busy at the mine that week, and he had not much to +say to his friend from the East when they met. But he showed curiosity +as to what had befallen Hunt when he talked with Nell Blossom. + +“I fear I began wrong,” admitted the parson. + +“I reckon however you began you wouldn’t get far with Nell,” observed +Hurley. “I’ll keep my eye on Tolley. He’s just boiling inside. But +unless he has a gang behind him he hasn’t any more spunk than a rabbit. +Nell’s too popular—just now, especially—for him to dare spring anything +against her. And she certainly is making herself well-beloved with the +boys from the Eureka Washings and the other mines,” and he grinned +ruefully. + +“I can keep most of my own roughnecks in line. I reckon they kind of +cotton to me, and they know I am set on this church business. But Nell +certainly holds the camp in the hollow of her hand.” + +“She is wrong; but she does not realize it, perhaps,” considered Hunt. +“And yet, maybe she does know.” + +The Reverend Willett Ford Hunt might have considered, as his sister +believed at that moment, that the outlook for successful religious work +in Canyon Pass was quite as foggy as it had been at any time at Ditson +Corners. Yet the opposition that had developed here was nothing more +than Hunt had expected. And it was open hostility. There was nothing +hypocritical about it. + +He had met Slickpenny Norris at the bank, Hunt had opened an account +there, and had invited the old curmudgeon to take some interest in the +church proposal. He had got one large grunt from the banker, and that +was all. Norris could be as close-mouthed as a clam when it might be to +his disadvantage to speak his mind. But he offered no encouragement to +the parson by that grunt. + +Saturday evening came and those who were most interested in the uplift +of Canyon Pass gathered at the old Tolley place to view with +satisfaction and no little pride the improvements and changes brought +about. + +“Jib,” remarked Judson to Collins, having deserted the Three Star +Grocery and left it in the care of the gangling Smithy at a very busy +hour to “take a squint” at the interior of the meeting room, “Jib, you +and Cale Mack have certainly done yourselves proud on that pulpit.” + +“Don’t praise me! Don’t praise me!” exclaimed Collins. “I never could +stand flattery. It puffs me all up. But it’s a pretty nifty bit of work, +I do agree.” + +“Yeppy,” pursued the storekeeper. “It has a slant to one side that maybe +is more the fault of the floor than your spirit-level, Jib. And it looks +sort o’ wabbly. But barrin’ them defects, it’s what I’d call a sightly +pulpit.” + +“It’s strong enough,” grunted Collins gruffly, now not so much pleased. +“I don’t reckon the parson is going to take a maul to it, is he?” + +Mother Tubbs just then entered the door. Behind her staggered Sam, his +reeling motion for once having no connection with an alcoholic cause. +Sam Tubbs was dead sober—and quite as positively provoked. + +“I snun to man!” he croaked. “Makin’ a pack-hoss of a man thisaway! If +that danged parson wanted this yere Bible he ought’ve come and toted it +himself.” + +“It’s very good of you to bring it, Mr. Tubbs,” said Hunt, smiling and +coming forward to relieve the old man of his burden. + +Hunt placed the big Bible on the pulpit. One of the interested +housewives had sent a rather handsome linen table-scarf for a pulpit +cloth, and although it was somewhat yellowed from disuse, it made the +unpainted desk seem less bare. + +They drifted in, one by one and in couples, during the evening, these +people deprived so long of the inspiration of worship in a public sense, +some bringing hymn-books of various sorts and a few Bibles. But Hunt had +not come to Canyon Pass unprepared on that score for church work. He had +brought with him from the East fifty hymn-books of the more popular kind +and a dozen Bibles for the use of the congregation in general. When +these had been distributed about the benches they made, Mother Tubbs +declared, “a mighty tasty show.” + +Betty was present to be introduced to the women of the camp. Whatever +her private feelings were, the parson’s sister could be, and was on this +occasion, a very helpful assistant to her brother. If the Passonians +felt a little awkward, Betty put them quickly at their ease. She made a +most fortunate impression on them all, and the general opinion was “that +that Eastern gal was a perfect lady.” + +Joe Hurley appeared with some of the younger men. They were all scrubbed +till their faces shone, shaved to a nicety, and their hair “slicked” and +anointed with everything Jose, the Mexican barber, had on his shelves. + +“Umph!” murmured Mother Tubbs, wrinkling her nose appreciatively. +“Certainly smells proper good since them fellers come in yere. I never +did see why bay rum smells so much better than drinkin’ rum. And bay +rum’s the only kind of liquor I approve of. The other I only get at +second-hand—on Sam’s breath!” + +It was late in the evening, and the town was getting lively, though it +seemed not so noisy as on most pay-nights, when they scattered from the +door of the meeting room. + +Hunt and Betty were the last to go. He latched the door behind them, but +there was no thought in his mind of locking it. That anybody would enter +the place before morning did not cross his thought. + +But later in the night, when this end of Main Street was deserted and +the frolicking in the various amusement places was continued only by a +few irrepressibles, a figure stole out of the alley beside the old +Tolley building and slipped into the room prepared for the first Sunday +service in Canyon Pass. + +Without a light in the place the intruder had some difficulty in +reaching the desk; once there, some few moments elapsed while the +uninvited visitor climbed into the pulpit and opened carefully the big +Bible. When the book was as carefully closed again, without the white +book-marks the parson had placed in it having been disturbed, the +obtrusive one departed. + +Outside, there seemed an air of satisfaction about the very way this +unknown individual walked away. In addition, a very determined—almost +viciously resolved-voice observed: + +“There! If that impudent pulpit-pounder don’t get his, I miss my guess!” + + + + +CHAPTER XV—PEP AND A LITTLE PEPPER + + +All Sabbaths were not fine at Canyon Pass, as Hunt realized on opening +his eyes on that important morning. From the same open window through +which he had viewed the chaste glories of the Topaz Range a week before, +he now saw heavy, thunderous-looking clouds wrapping the peaks and +surging down into the lower reaches of the landscape, blotting out, as +they moved on, each monument that he had learned in this brief time of +his sojourn to know. It promised no fair day for the parson’s first +service. + +This, however, was not the basis of the heaviness that oppressed him. +Hunt admitted the cause of his heart-sick feeling without dodging the +issue. It was Nell Blossom and her attitude toward him personally that +so troubled the parson of Canyon Pass. That she opposed the good work he +was trying to inaugurate was only a side issue in Hunt’s mind. +Opposition in general merely spurred a spirit like his to greater +effort. That is, a frank opposition. + +But the minister’s personal interest in Nell Blossom had become +something that controlled him. He could not control it. + +It was not right, he told himself, to do any poaching on what he +considered Joe’s preserves. Whether or not Nell cared for the mine +owner, Hunt believed he would be disloyal to his friend if he showed +anything but the interest of a minister and religious adviser in the +young woman. + +Hunt was honest enough to admit that such feeling was not what inspired +him in the matter. Nell Blossom was not at all the kind of girl he would +have deliberately chosen as the object of a serious affection. But who +of us may choose when love enters the lists? + +The winsomeness of Nell shone through the rough and prickly husk of her. +He realized that no man could see in all its clarity the girl’s soul. He +believed that the untaught mining-camp child, used as she was to the +rude life about her and only that life, was really out of her natural +element. Whatever Henry Blossom, Nell’s dissolute father, may have been, +the girl’s mother had perhaps given her child as a legacy a natural +refinement scarcely to be looked for in any person brought up in so +unpolished a community. + +In short, Nell Blossom’s intrinsic worth was no more hidden from the +parson than her physical beauty. Her hatred of and disdain for all men +had its root in no fault she had committed. Some man, had it been that +gambler Hunt had heard called “Dick the Devil?” had disillusioned the +child-heart of Nell Blossom and, perhaps, the sweets of love had turned +to ashes in her mouth. + +What had become of that gambler? What was the truth about that tragedy +at the brink of the canyon wall? Did Tolley know the facts and misstate +them? Or was Dick Beckworth really dead and his body swept away by the +torrent of Runaway River? + +It was plain, Hunt decided, that Dick’s disappearance weighed heavily +for some cause on Nell Blossom’s mind. Something had happened on that +spring morning weeks before which had changed Nell from the +happy-go-lucky girl the parson knew she must have been to this bitter, +disdainful, and apparently wicked woman who scoffed at religion in any +form, and especially had “no use for a pulpit-pounder.” + +In a week he had become imbued with such an interest in Nell that she +was the subject most in his thoughts at all hours. He could not +eradicate her from his mind, though he tried hard to do so. + +In his heart he scarcely supposed that the time would ever come when he +might be a suitor for Nell’s hand. Joe Hurley stood between them. But +the Reverend Willett Ford Hunt was old enough and wise enough to know +that whatever came to him in the future, as long as he retained his +faculties, Nell Blossom would occupy a niche in his secret heart that no +other interest could fill. + +Twice at night, when Betty was in bed, Hunt had descended into the lane +and, standing at the back of Colorado Brown’s place near an open window, +listened to Nell sing her songs, even to the caustic one with which she +closed her act and in response to which the crowd wildly roared its +applause. The verses about the minister’s son “went big.” But there was +a sweetness and power in her singing voice that seemed to reveal the +better qualities of the girl in the more tender ballads she sang; for +all her numbers were not of a humorous nature. She could bring tears as +well as smiles to the faces of her audience with that voice. + +Betty came tapping at his door while Hunt was still in his robe. When +she saw the dark business suit laid out on the bed she frowned. + +“Ford! I did hope you would dress properly on this day,” she said. + +“I am dressing properly—for Canyon Pass,” he returned, smiling. “I am +not inclined to attract the hearty laughter and scorn of such members of +the community as Boss Tolley, Tom Hicks, and their ilk. Clerical garb +might be considered by them as a gratuitous insult. And the last thing I +wish to do here is to antagonize the rougher element.” + +Although Betty failed to see much distinction in the roughness of the +community, she did not open that avenue of discussion. She did say +decisively: + +“Why bother about those awful men, Ford? Tolley and his crowd will +never, never be members of your congregation. Maria, Sam’s wife, has +been giving me the history of those wicked men. She is afraid of her +life because of the gang that hangs about the Grub Stake. That is a +terrible institution, and everybody in Tolley’s employ is bad.” + +“And yet, Miss Rosabell Pickett, who plays the piano for Tolley, is +going to have her own piano trucked over to the meeting room this +morning and will play the hymns herself for us. So some good must be +found at the Grub Stake,” Hunt rejoined, still smiling. “Besides, if +they are bad men, I hope to help them.” + +Cholo Sam was closing the door of his bar and locking it when, later, +Hunt and his sister came down from their rooms. Maria, with a jetted +jacket, yellow petticoat and reboza, was waiting for her husband. + +“Señor Hunt,” said the innkeeper, flashing his white teeth as usual, “we +honor ourselfs to attend your service, if we may? Si?” + +“I’ll be glad to see you and Maria there, Sam.” + +Hunt then followed Betty out of the hotel. It had rained since sunrise, +but had stopped now. They were early for the service. The street was +almost deserted. It had been arranged by Hurley that the whistle of the +hoisting engine at the Great Hope should be blown at a quarter to eleven +and again at five minutes of the hour. There was no other means of +summoning the Passonians to worship. + +There was a roar of voices from the barroom of the Grub Stake as the +parson and his sister passed. They crossed the street to avoid a +quagmire, but the sound of revelry followed them. It seemed that all the +other saloons and stores in sight, including the Three Star Grocery, +were somnolent. + +Bill Judson joined them as they passed the grocery store. The old man +was as solemn as a bishop and as uncomfortable as new shoes, tight light +trousers of an ancient fashion, and a stiff-brimmed straw hat could make +him. + +“Hello! What’s the matter with Tolley now?” the storekeeper exclaimed in +surprise. + +The owner of the Grub Stake had come tearing out of the place, seemingly +blinded by rage, and dashed along the street. The group that boiled out +of the Grub Stake after him did not follow, but urged him on with +jeering laughter. + +“What is it?” asked Betty, startled. + +“Dunno,” said Judson, quickening his stride. “But the feller’s up to +something.” + +They were in sight of the meeting room now. The door stood open. When +Tolley reached it he plunged in. + +Hunt would not leave Betty, but he hurried her on, while Judson almost +ran and was over the threshold before them. There was a sudden explosion +of voices inside, Tolley’s tones high over all. + +“Here’s that derned cheater now!” the owner of the place was heard to +shout as the storekeeper entered. “Bill Judson! you think you’re mighty +smart, but you can’t put nothing like this over on me.” + +“What’s eatin’ on you, Tolley?” was Judson’s cool response. + +“The boys just told me what you folks was aimin’ to use this dump for. I +didn’t hire it to you for no church. I won’t have it, I tell you! This +is my shack.” + +“And I’ve paid rent for it for six months. What you goin’ to do about +it?” drawled Judson. + +“I’ll show you! I won’t let no ham-faced old-timer like you make a fool +of me.” + +Hunt reached the door. Betty was almost afraid to enter. There were +several men inside and two or three women. Tolley was striding toward +the pulpit, swinging his arms and shouting himself hoarse. + +“I’ll show you!” he shouted. “I own this dump. I’ll throw this litter +into the street. A church in my shack? Well, I reckon not!” + +The distant whistle at the Great Hope pealed its first signal for the +service. Several groups of Passonians were visible now, converging +toward the place of worship. + +“Better cool down, Tolley,” advised Judson again. “We don’t aim to have +any riot yere. This used to be your honkytonk, and a dirty place it was. +But we reckon on running another sort of business in it, and you can’t +stop us. You’re trying to throw sand in the gears o’ progress, as the +feller said.” + +“I’ll show you what I can do!” shouted Tolley, mounting upon the pulpit +platform. He whirled about, and saw Hunt entering the room. “Here’s that +danged preacher now.” + +“Mr. Tolley,” said the parson clearly, “the wicked have been known to +come to the house of God to scoff and have remained to pray. We are +going to hold a service here in a quarter of an hour. You are invited to +join us. But if you remain, I must ask you to be quiet.” + +“Why, you derned, white-livered tenderfoot! I’ll show you——” + +He seized upon Mother Tubbs’ big Bible and raised it as though he would +fling it upon the ground. Betty gasped. Judson started forward. But +Hunt’s voice rang loudest through the room. + +“Tolley! Put that Book down!” + +The compelling tone made the divekeeper pause. He still glared, his face +distorted by wrath; but, as Joe Hurley had once said, the fellow after +all had not the courage of a rabbit. He really expected Hunt to follow +the command with the only show of authority that went in Canyon Pass—the +display of a gun! + +But the parson had made no threatening gesture. He did not even advance +down the room. + +“Dang you!” yelled Tolley, and brought the Bible down upon the pulpit +with such emphasis that the desk rocked. + +The following instant his head was surrounded by a halo of fine +particles, the pungency of which was apparent to the surprised +spectators almost at once. Tolley received the blast of powdered cayenne +full in the face and eyes! + +He gasped—choked—sneezed. He sneezed again, a most vociferous roar of +sound, quite involuntary and spasmodic. The pepper that had been +sprinkled between the leaves of the big book had in one burst pelted +Tolley with its fine grains, filling eyes, nose, and his mouth, for that +had been open to emit another angry shout. + +But now he only shouted for help between sneezes. Tears poured down his +face. He staggered blindly down from the pulpit and begged for the open +air. + +Hunt was first to reach the tortured man and led him forth. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI—LOVE AND LONGING + + +Even Hunt could not express sympathy for the unhappy Tolley. But he did +not join in Judson’s laughter or the chatter of the others in the +meeting room. Tolley staggered off toward the Grub Stake, swearing +between the huge sneezes which racked him like successive earthquake +shocks. Hunt returned inside the building. + +The others were grouped near the door, and there were weeping eyes among +them. For the moment the atmosphere in the vicinity of the pulpit was +unbearable. + +Hunt drew forth a handkerchief, tied it across his nose and mouth, and +advanced to the desk. The Bible had not been injured by Tolley’s rough +action. But the red pepper was scattered thickly upon the linen pulpit +cloth. He wrapped the book in this cloth and carried it to a window +which looked upon the narrow lane beside the building. Hunt opened this +window; and, leaning over the low sill, dropped the book to the ground. + +He closed that window quickly; but he opened others to ventilate the +room. The damp air quickly relieved the place of the pungent pepper. The +parson did all this quietly. He made no comment on the incident. + +But the gathering company whispered and chattered—the women angrily, the +men more than a little inclined to be amused. + +“Parson,” said Bill Judson, his eyes twinkling, “I promised Jib Collins +last night that I’d warn you to go easy on pounding the pulpit because +it was sort o’ wabbly. I reckon ’twas Tolley I ought t’ve warned.” + +Betty explained to the woman who furnished the pulpit cloth why it was +not in evidence, and Mother Tubbs when she arrived had to be told why +the pulpit Bible was in retirement. But there was time for little more +than that, as the second whistle blew, and the room began to fill. + +At least an audience was not lacking to hear Hunt preach his first +sermon at Canyon Pass. The seats were comfortably filled. Most of the +congregation were cleanly and neatly dressed; the women in such finery +as they owned. But some of the men, the rougher sort and evidently +present out of curiosity only, looked just as they did on week days. +Smoking, however, was taboo. + +Rosabell Pickett and her piano, a small upright instrument of a rather +uncertain tone, was of great assistance. Without her help the strangely +awkward congregation could scarcely have raised a hymn. + +Hunt made no comment upon the inauguration of the new régime in the +town. He conducted the service just as he might have conducted a mission +meeting at Ditson Corners. And he preached as carefully thought-out a +discourse as was his wont, although his theme was simple. He held their +respectful attention and, he believed, won their undivided interest. + +After the close of the service the Bible was rescued by two of the women +and cleansed of the pepper which had been so plentifully shaken into it. +Mother Tubbs took Hunt aside. + +“I’m plumb ashamed, parson!” she said indignantly. “To think that Nell +Blossom done such a trick on you!” + +“Nell Blossom?” + +“She done it,” said the old woman with conviction. “I missed my box o’ +red pepper last evening; but I had no idee what that flighty gal took it +for. And then she said when I tried to get her to come to meetin’ this +mornin’ that she reckoned it would be too hot up yere for her, and said +for me to keep out o’ the front seats.” + +“Ah!” + +“She reckoned you’d get to thumping the Book in the middle of the +sermon, maybe. When Boss Tolley hears tell how it come, he won’t love +Nell none the better, I reckon.” + +The peppering of the pulpit Bible might have made the whole of Canyon +Pass roar with laughter and have brought nothing but ridicule on the +parson had Hunt been the actual victim of Nell Blossom’s impish trick. +That Boss Tolley chanced to suffer yielded a number of the townspeople +much amusement. But it afforded others an opportunity to show stronger +approval of what Hunt and his coworkers were trying to do. + +Then, there was a third party. It was chiefly made up of Boss Tolley’s +friends. Tolley raved against both Hunt and Nell Blossom, and his +satellites listened and agreed with him. There began to be whispered +about Canyon Pass a story to the effect that the absent Dick Beckworth +would never be seen by mortal eye again, that he had left town in Nell +Blossom’s company, and that the cabaret singer, if anybody, could +explain how Dick’s horse had come to be found under a heap of fallen +gravel at the edge of Runaway River. + +Joe Hurley did not chance to hear these whispers for some time. In +truth, during the weeks immediately following that first service in +Tolley’s old shack, the owner of the Great Hope had found his time fully +occupied by two interests. The mine itself was one, for he believed he +was close upon the unveiling of that rich vein which he had always +believed was the “mother lode” of his claim. The second interest was in +Betty Hunt. + +Hurley sought the society of the Eastern girl whenever he could do so. +Hunt, who was busy himself in several ways—especially in getting +personally acquainted with the people in their homes or where they +worked—was glad Joe could devote himself to Betty. Otherwise his sister +might have found it very lonely here at Canyon Pass. + +The girl from the East allowed Hurley’s better qualities to impress her +mind more and more. In her company, too, the young man tried to +eradicate from his speech the vernacular that he knew she despised. Yet +when he grew interested in a subject of conversation, or was excited, it +was the most natural thing in the world for Hurley to revert to the +vivid expressions of the cattle trail and the camp. + +Of course, no man could have prepared himself for college without +obtaining a foundation of book education which Betty must fully approve. +Occasionally Hurley revealed a flash of wit or a literary appreciation +that delighted the girl. + +These weeks of association bred in both young people a confidence and +admiration for each other which under ordinary conditions might have +foretold the growth of a much warmer regard. Hurley began to hope. Yet +Betty gave him no such encouragement as young women are wont to offer a +man in whom they begin to feel a tender interest. + +Midsummer was approaching, and the dry, rarified air of Canyon Pass +sometimes seemed a blast from an open furnace. But when they rode, as +they often did, out upon the heights—above the canyon, for +instance—there was always a cooler and more pleasantly odorous breeze. + +In one of their earlier rides the two had jogged the entire length of +the canyon on the east bank of Runaway River, and even a little way into +the desert, far enough to mark the shallow basin where the last trickle +of what was at Canyon Pass a boisterous torrent disappeared in the +alkali. + +But Betty did not admire even the look of the desert country. There was +something horrible to her mind in the appearance of the dreary waste. +She had never seen the Topaz at sunrise! + +When they mounted to the highlands west of the camp, as they did on this +present day, there were half a dozen trails they might strike into a +country which would reveal beautiful as well as rugged prospects, and to +these Betty could grant admiration. She had begun very soon to feel the +splendors of nature which were so different here from those of her +native Berkshires. + +There was a forest that always intrigued her. The trail led them down +cathedral aisles to the bank of a murmurous stream. To this they +journeyed to-day; and, when within sound of the river, Betty drew her +mount to a stand. + +“It is beautiful, Mr. Hurley,” she sighed. “I do not wonder that you so +love this out-of-door life and this wilderness. And then you have always +been used to it. It does make a difference where one is born.” + +“You said it!” returned Hurley emphatically. “I pretty near stifle when +I get into a city and have to stay a spell. When I get back to this I +feel like a boy again.” He smiled reflectively. “The bard of ‘Cactus +Center’ hits off my feelings to a fare-ye-well,” and he proceeded to +repeat from “The Forester’s Return:” + + “‘I’m back on the job by the singing river, + Far from the town with its money-mad, + Back where the quaking aspens quiver— + And I’m glad. + + There’s work to do and there’s work in plenty, + And it’s sleep in the open if fate so wills; + But no man is more than one-and-twenty + In the hills.’” + +“That is fine!” Betty cried with enthusiasm, her eyes sparkling as they +seldom did. “Why, I can almost feel that way myself, sometimes.” + +There was a drop in her tone at the end. She looked away and, had he +been able to see into her eyes then, he would have beheld a much +different expression in their dimmed depths. + +“You’d feel like it always if you’d just let yourself, Miss Betty,” +Hurley said, with sudden warmth. + +She smiled a little doubtfully, but turned toward him again, having +recovered her composure. Joe’s eyes glowed and a strange pallor rose +under his tan. + +“Just think of living out here all your days and enjoying every moment +of them! It’s rough, I know, and sort of untamed. But it’s a good life, +Miss Betty—a wonderful life!” + +“You—you almost convince me,” she stammered, laughing a little +uncertainly, yet gazing at him with a dawning light in her eyes that Joe +had not seen there before. + +It emboldened him; it inspired him to speak the words that were boiling +under the surface of his calm. He was a forthright fellow at best, was +Joe Hurley, and he was very, very much in love with Betty Hunt. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII—A BATTLE IN A GIRL’S HEART + + +“Betty, I want to tell you something,” he said, unconsciously urging +Bouncer nearer to the girl’s mount. “These weeks you have been here at +Canyon Pass have been the greatest in my life.” + +The girl looked at him in a startled way. + +“This is a big country, it is true. Big things are done out here—great +accomplishments achieved—fortunes won. And I have always meant to do my +part in it—both as to making money and winning the better things of life +for myself. I want to see things that are already started, developed, to +watch Canyon Pass grow—in a spiritual as well as a material sense. + +“But something else has got hold of me, Betty. I was living a pretty +wild life before you and Willie came out here. I wrote him I was. I kind +of gloried in being a roughneck, I reckon,” he added with a wry smile. +“But all that’s changed with me now, Betty—since you came.” + +“Mr. Hurley—Joe!” gasped the girl. + +But he raised his hand gently in protest. The gesture asked her to +wait—to hear him through. + +“I’ve got another object in life—another reason for working and +striving. I reckon a man never does know quite what he’s aimin’ to do +until he sets a mark before him that isn’t altogether selfish. I want to +get ahead just as much as ever—more so. But I want to accomplish what +I’m aimin’ at for something higher than just the satisfaction of seeing +the Great Hope pay big and know that folks say Joe Hurley has made a +ten-strike!” + +“You—you will be successful, Joe,” she murmured. + +“That’s up to you, I reckon,” the man said abruptly. “I’m aimin’ to +accomplish all this—winning a fortune, helping to put Canyon Pass on the +map, and all—for you, Betty. Just for you.” + +“Mr. Hurley! Joe! Don’t!” the girl suddenly exclaimed. + +Her face had grown rosy when she began to understand fully what he was +coming to, and then it paled. As she listened to his final outburst the +grieved expression that contracted her lips and dimmed her eyes shocked +him. Before she could speak he knew what answer he was to receive. + +“Don’t say anything more—please!” she begged. “It’s all wrong. I never +thought this—this would happen. Why, I thought we were just friends.” + +“Betty!” ejaculated the man in a tone that wrung the girl’s heart. +“Betty, haven’t I got a chance with you? I know I’m not worthy——” + +“Oh! Oh! Don’t put it that way, Joe,” she pleaded. “It really isn’t +that!” + +“What’s the matter with me then?” he demanded. “Do you want time to +think it over? Or—wait! Betty, is—is it because you left some one back +East?” + +The girl was silent. She turned her head so that he might not see her +face. But Hurley waited. She had to answer—and the halting word was +uttered as though it were wrenched from her. + +“Yes.” + +Hurley drew in his breath sharply, and then he was likewise silent. A +minute dragged by. She stole a glance at him at last. He was staring +steadily at her left hand. She had removed her glove, and the hand +rested bare upon her pony’s neck. Suddenly her face flamed again. + +“Oh! I do not wear his—his ring,” she said hoarsely. “There—there is a +reason. I——” + +“I am not prying into your private affairs, Miss Betty,” Hurley said +quickly. “Only—I am sorry I did not know before. Willie never said a +word to warn me.” + +“He does not know!” ejaculated the girl. “I—I do not want him to know.” + +“He won’t learn it from me. Don’t fear,” said Hurley rather roughly. + +“Oh, Mr. Hurley! I am so—so sorry,” whispered the girl. + +The man, with drooping shoulders and hanging head, sat his horse, a +statue of disappointment. He did not move or look at her, as she wheeled +her own mount. + +“I—I think I would like to ride back alone, Mr. Hurley. You—you won’t +mind? Afterward I hope we may be quite as good friends as heretofore. I +do appreciate your friendship—Joe.” + +Betty could not easily miss the way back. The trail was perfectly plain. +She rode fast at first, for with all her sorrow for Joe Hurley’s +disappointment, she could not bear him near her now. + +Because she had no thought of ever considering him other than a friend, +the girl, who was after all quite inexperienced, had not dreamed Hurley +would come to regard her warmly. She could not understand how it had +happened. It seemed unbelievable! + +Love—romance; a lover—happiness; these things were not for Betty Hunt. +She had long ago told herself this. She was devoted to one man only, her +brother. And when he would no longer need her, if that time ever came, +she expected to follow a lonely trail. + +It was not merely Joe Hurley that she could not marry. She could not +marry any man. + +She came out of the majestic forest and reached the open stretch of the +trail from Hoskins. This she followed toward the wagon track which edged +the brink of the Overhang. She had brought her pony to a quieter pace +and jogged along, deep in her unhappy thoughts. Suddenly, turning a +clump of brush, she quite involuntarily drew in her pony and halted. +There was a rider on the trail ahead of her, a stranger. + +It was for only a moment that Betty saw him. Horse and rider were +plunging down a steep declivity beside the trail into a thick copse. Had +he heard her pony and was he seeking to escape observation? The girl was +impressed with this possibility. + +She rode on again, but very cautiously. She held a firm grip upon her +pony’s rein. Suppose the stranger should suddenly spur his horse into +the trail again and halt her? From the moment her brother had decided to +come West, and she knew she must attend him, Betty had been fearful of +just such a meeting as she visualized now. + +She half turned her mount, tempted to fly back toward the river and Joe. +There was something very comforting in the thought of Joe’s nearness. +Perhaps, if she waited here, he would overtake her. At least, he might +come into sight. + +Then the thought entered her disturbed mind that possibly Hurley had +gone home another way. He knew the country well. He might not follow the +only trail she knew by which to reach Canyon Pass. + +With this to spur her, the girl urged her mount forward. No use in +waiting. The place must be passed. She could see no movement of the +brush where the stranger and his horse had disappeared. But she felt +that he was there! + +Again she gathered up the pony’s reins and held them firmly. She gripped +her whip, too, and prepared for a dash. But she continued to walk her +horse. + +She was on the _qui vive_ for a quick start. Her eyes searched the brush +in the little ravine. Suddenly she saw something that was not +vegetation. + +She rode on, but she was more and more disturbed by this object at the +edge of the brush. Then, of a sudden, she realized what it was. It was +the upper part of a man’s face. The hatbrim covered all his hair and cut +off much of his forehead; a branch hid all below the point of his nose. + +And yet this patch of face shocked Betty. It seemed that she recognized +it! Was it—could it be—— + +The blood pounded in her temples; her eyes were suffused. At that moment +she could not have spurred her pony had the lurker in the brush sprung +forth into her path! + +Then he moved. She gained a clear glimpse of his entire face before he +dodged again out of sight. His hair rolled upon the collar of his shirt +and he wore a mustache, but no beard. Betty felt sudden relief. + +“It is never Wilkenson—never!” she murmured. “Never him!” + +She knew that her terror had been born in her own mind rather than of +any external danger. The man was nothing to her—no one she had ever +seen. She rode on finally with a sudden access of courage—a feeling that +often comes to one when a peril has been successfully surmounted. + +Indeed when, a little later and in sight of the broader wagon-track, she +heard the pattering hoofs behind her she was not startled. At first she +thought it was Joe Hurley. Then she recognized the fact that there was +more than one horse coming. Even at that she felt confidence. + +She turned to look, and saw three roughly dressed fellows pounding along +the trail on tired and sweating steeds. One of the men had an +authoritative air. It was he who addressed her, sweeping off his hat in +the same way that Joe Hurley was wont to offer greeting. + +“I say, miss,” said the man, “have you seen a feller riding this yere +way—couldn’t be long ago? Mebbe an hour?” + +“What—what man?” she hesitated. “I rode along here some time ago with +Mr. Joe Hurley——” + +“Shucks, ma’am! I ain’t after him,” replied the man. “I know Joe mighty +well. And if you are a friend of his, you pass. I’m the sheriff of +Cactus County, and me and my deputies are after a yaller hound that +bamfoozled some honest men out of their hard earnings. He’s got the +gold, and we want both him and it! We been trailing him two days.” + +Betty trembled so inwardly that she could say nothing; but luckily the +sheriff did not consider there was anything she could say. + +“If you and Joe Hurley come along from Canyon Pass, you’d have seen this +feller, if he’d gone that way. And I’m mighty sure he wouldn’t aim for +the Pass. I reckon, boys, Lamberton is our best bet. Good-day to ye, +ma’am.” + +He removed his hat again, and the other two did the same. But they did +not ride south at the fork of the trail without casting back more than +one admiring glance at the trim figure and quietly beautiful face of +Betty Hunt. + +She cantered away on the Canyon Pass trail. She had something else to +think of now. By keeping silent had she aided a thief to escape the +hands of justice? But, then, perhaps she had saved a man’s life as well! + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII—THE SHADOW ON BETTY’S PATH + + +It was still a beautiful summer morning, but its charm was quite lost +for Betty Hunt. Her appreciation of the beautiful in nature was +submerged by what had so overwhelmed her heart and her thought. + +The thing which had been so long hidden in her mind—that secret which +had changed Betty so desperately at the end of her schooldays—had risen +to the surface again. + +But she had not gone far when something arose that made Betty wish she +had not left Joe Hurley beside the singing river. Her staid old pony +began to limp. + +She was a good rider, but she had not the first idea what to do when a +horse went lame, except to get down and relieve the poor creature of her +weight. But she was much too far from Canyon Pass to walk and lead the +hobbling pony. + +The wise old cow pony made much of the affliction, and when Betty tried +to urge it on the limping horse was a pitiful sight indeed. Betty had +never been taught the proper way to pick up a horse’s foot to examine it +for a stone in the frog; but the pony lifted the crippled member in such +a way that the girl managed to get at it. The stone was there, a +sharp-edged flint wedged into the frog, but the girl had no instrument +with which to get it out. + +Fortuitous circumstances do happen elsewhere besides in bald romance. +Unlooked-for help appeared in this moment of Betty’s need. She looked up +to see Nell Blossom on her cream-colored pony galloping along the wagon +track, coming from the direction of Canyon Pass. The cabaret singer +glanced at the dismounted girl, nodded, and would have gone right by, +but she chanced to see the pony limp on a yard or two. + +“What’s the matter with that hoss?” demanded Nell, reining in her own +pony with both skill and promptness. + +“Oh, Miss Blossom,” cried Betty, “there’s a stone in his foot, and I +can’t get it out.” + +“Where’s your side partner?” asked Nell, getting slowly down. “That Joe +Hurley oughtn’t to let you tenderfoots out of his sight. Not on the open +trail.” + +Betty recognized the measure of scorn in this remark, but she was in no +position to resent it. She said as casually as she could: + +“Mr. Hurley stayed behind for something. He may not even come back this +way. I really do not know what to do for the poor creature.” + +“Meanin’ Joe, or the hoss?” and the blue eyes danced suddenly with +mischief. + +“The poor pony.” + +“Get the stone out,” Nell said, picking up the pony’s foot. + +“It is wedged in tightly—that stone.” + +Nell drew from the pocket of her abbreviated skirt a jackknife that +would have delighted the heart of any boy. With an implement in this she +removed the stone in a twinkling. + +“There!” Nell said. “Let him rest here a minute, and he’ll be all right. +The old four-flusher! He isn’t hurt a mite, but he’d like to have you +think so,” and she slapped the pony resoundingly. + +“I’m awfully much obliged to you, Miss Blossom.” + +“No need to be. And no need to call me ‘Miss.’” + +“Oh—well—Nell, if you like it better,” Betty rejoined with a most +disarming smile. “I thank you.” + +“That’s all right,” said Nell in her brusque, but not altogether +unfriendly, way. “I say, Miss Hunt!” + +Betty interrupted with: “Betty, if you please, Nell.” + +“Oh! All right,” the singer said, the more friendly light sparkling in +her eyes again. “What I wanted to ask you is, is that suit you got on +really what they all wear in the East?” + +“Yes. Since nearly every one rides astride now, the habit is made +mannish.” + +“Well, I’ve straddled a hoss ever since I can remember, but I never seen +anything but a skirt and bloomers or a divided skirt like this on women +before. But I must say them things you wear are plumb fetching.” + +Betty was amused. But she had reason for feeling kindly toward Nell +Blossom. + +“You could easily cut over that corduroy skirt you wear into a pair of +breeches like these,” she suggested. + +“You reckon so?” asked Nell with eagerness. “I’d like that a pile. But I +don’t know——” + +“I could show you. We could cut a pattern. Has anybody in town a sewing +machine?” + +“Sure thing. Mother Tubbs has got one. And I can run up a seam as good +as she can.” + +“I’ll tell you,” proposed Betty with real interest. “You ride back to +the hotel with me, and we’ll cut the pattern out of a newspaper.” + +Through such seemingly unimportant incidents as this the trend of great +affairs are sometimes changed. Had Nell ridden on she might have seen +the same fugitive Betty had noticed hiding in the chaparral. But Nell +was easily persuaded to attend the parson’s sister to the Wild Rose. + +The two girls, who seemed to have so little in common, after all found +much, besides the dressmaking plans, in each other to afford them +interest. + +It was Nell’s strangely sweet voice that pleased Betty most. Even when +the Western girl said the rudest things, her voice caressed one’s ear. +And Betty began to realize that Nell’s “rudeness” was born of frankness +and a certain bashfulness. Most bashful people are abrupt, at times +quite startling, in speech. In another place, among other people, Nell +Blossom would have betrayed timidity and hesitation. But, as she would +have said, she would not have “got far” in Canyon Pass by yielding to +any secret shrinking from her associates. + +“A girl’s got to keep her own end up in a place like this. They all root +for me and clap me on and off the stage. But I’ve got to fight my own +battles,” pursued the singer. “Men are like wolves, Betty. The pack will +foller a leader so long as that leader keeps ahead. When the leader goes +plumb lame and falls behind, they eat him.” + +“Oh!” + +“I’m popular with the boys. They’re strong for me just now. But +’twouldn’t take much to make ’em turn on me. I know ’em!” she concluded +grimly. + +She knew a great many things, it was evident, of which Betty Hunt was +ignorant. When the cabaret singer went away with her pattern she left +Betty much to ponder about, which did not fundamentally deal with Nell +Blossom’s problems. + +When Nell had gone a grimmer shadow overcame Betty’s mind—a shadow that +had lain athwart her path since that bitter season just preceding the +death of her Aunt Prudence Mason and Betty’s withdrawal from boarding +school. + +The events of those last weeks at Grandhampton Hall were etched so +deeply upon Betty’s memory that they could not be effaced. She believed +that they never would be. + +And on this day all had been rubbed raw again by Joe Hurley’s outbreak. +If he had only not spoken as he had! If things had only gone on between +Betty and him as they had been going—calmly, quietly; yes, she confessed +it now, really pleasantly. + +She had come to think of the mining man’s attention as an undoubted aid +to her placid life. Her rides with him, and their association in other +ways, their conversations on various subjects had been of greater moment +in establishing her peace of mind than Betty had realized. + +She faced that fact—alone in her own room now—with fuller appreciation +of what Joe Hurley had come to mean to her. + +She was an utterly honest girl. She had faced a terrible and +soul-racking situation before and come to a decision which she had held +to through all the months since she had left school. + +Just what did Joe Hurley mean to Betty Hunt? + +Her first half-fear of Joe, a real dislike of his presumed character, +had melted before a broader understanding of the man and his aims. Joe +was her brother’s friend and the chief supporter of Hunt’s earnest work +among these people. First of all Betty had begun to like Joe because he +so generously aided the parson. + +Her appreciation of the underlying strata of Joe’s character had grown +from day to day of personal association with him. He was a man who would +ultimately achieve big things. She felt this to be his dominant trait. +Yet he had tenderness, generosity, wit, and a measure of “book learning” +of which last she eagerly approved. + +Under ordinary conditions—Betty Hunt admitted this frankly now—she would +have been as strongly attracted by Joe Hurley, once she had got over her +first doubt of his surface qualities, as by any young man she had ever +associated with. + +She did not question her own judgment in Joe’s case, no matter how far +wrong the unsophisticated school girl had been to give her heart into +the keeping of another who had seemed a much more charming man! + +Andy Wilkenson—sophisticated, smiling, tender, with all the graces of +person and intellect that any young girl could wish—had set himself to +win Betty Hunt. His intentions had been perfectly honorable, in the +sense thus used. + +Andy had urged marriage—an immediate, if secret, marriage—from the very +first. And there was reason for secrecy. Betty wished to finish her +course at Grandhampton Hall. Aunt Prudence must not know of this great, +new thing that had come into Betty’s life. Even Ford must not be told. + +For, after all, the girl realized that she was very young—much younger, +even, it seemed, than Andy Wilkenson. Andy was so much more sensible +than she! + +Betty feared she could not keep her mind sufficiently on her studies to +stand well at the end of the semester if she was not utterly sure of +Andy. Once married to him, of course, Andy would be hers entirely! No +other woman could ever mean anything to him if the unsuspicious, +broken-down old minister in a neighboring town joined them in holy +bonds. + +Aunt Prudence would forgive her when it was all over and she went home +with her diploma and her marriage certificate in her trunk. It would be +absolutely wicked to disturb poor Aunt Prudence by a letter either +announcing the engagement, which was for a very brief term, or her +marriage. For Betty’s elderly relative was ill—worse than either Betty +or her brother dreamed of at the time. + +The opportunities Betty had to be with Andy were not many. The rules of +the Hall were very strict. Even her introduction to the young man from +the West had been clandestine. Unknown to Betty, Wilkenson, learning all +he could about certain girls in her set at the school, had selected +Betty Hunt deliberately as his mark. + +Betty’s school fees were paid by an old aunt who was reputed very rich. +The aunt was known to be devoted to her. All that she had was sure to be +Betty’s when Aunt Prudence died. Wilkenson had even gone so far as to +learn much more particularly about the state of Aunt Prudence Mason’s +health than Betty herself knew. + +One item only escaped Andy Wilkenson’s cunning mind. It was not until +they had been married and Wilkenson was driving Betty back to the Hall +by unfrequented roads late in the afternoon that the small but appalling +oversight on his part broke upon his understanding. + +“You know, girlie, I haven’t got much money. I came East yere”—how Betty +had loved that drawl then—“to get me a stake. I did a fool thing and +threw away—just threw away—my bank roll out in Crescent City.” + +“Oh, _money_!” replied Betty with fine scorn. “You can go to work at +something, Andy, and earn more.” + +“Ye-as,” he agreed in a tone that might have revealed a good deal to a +more sophisticated person than the girl who had so recently been Betty +Hunt, “so I can. But I may not make any good connection before you get +out of that school. And then I’d like us to go back West. I’m known out +there. A man can always do better in his own stamping-grounds.” + +“Oh, the West must be wonderful,” murmured Betty, with clasped hands. + +“Yep. But no place is wonderful unless you’ve got a good stake. Now, how +about it, Betty? This old aunt of yours is pretty well fixed, eh?” + +The girl was startled. “Wealthy? I think so. Aunt Prudence has been very +kind to me.” + +“She’ll keep on being kind to you, I reckon?” + +“Of course! The dear soul. You’ll just love her, Andy.” + +“Maybe. But I don’t think I’ll risk trying her out. Not just yet. She’s +pretty sick, anyway, isn’t she?” + +Betty told him that Aunt Prudence was feeble. The girl did not know at +that time how serious the woman’s malady was. Only on the day following +did the telegram come recalling her to Amberly! + +“Anyway,” Wilkenson observed, after some thought, “you’re her heir, +Betty.” For a second time the girl was startled by his speech. She began +to peer at him now in the dusk in a puzzled fashion. + +“What I’m aimin’ at,” said Wilkenson quite calmly, “is that we’d better +keep all this quiet until Auntie goes over the divide. No use stirring +up possible objections. She’ll leave you her money, you say. We’ll take +that money and go back West. I know a place I can buy in Crescent City +that will pay big returns. I will let the pasteboards alone, myself. I +always get foolish if I deal ’em wild instead of for the house. We’ll +cut a swath out there, Betty, that’ll make ’em sit up and take notice. +Sure thing!” + +“Andy! What are you talking about?” asked the incredulous girl. +“Auntie’s money—— It’s all invested. I know it is. It’s tied up.” + +“Shucks! we can untie it,” and Wilkenson laughed. “No banker’s knots +mean much to me. And four or five per cent. interest ain’t a patch on +what I’ll make for you when we get to going.” + +“But, Andy,” she said weakly, “I know all about Auntie’s will. I have +even read it. She made it years ago when Ford and I were little. And she +is a woman who never changes her mind. Ford has papa’s little fortune. +Aunt Prudence gives me her property; but I can spend only the income +from it until I am thirty.” + +“What’s that?” His tone made her jump. “Thirty?” Then he thought. “Well, +shucks, honey,” he drawled, “you’re a married woman now. That makes you +practically of age in this State, and the courts——” + +“It makes no difference, Andy. The will is made that way for that very +purpose,” the girl said frankly. + +“For what purpose?” + +“So that—that my husband cannot touch the principal. Until I am thirty I +cannot touch it myself.” + +An oath—a foul, blistering expression—parted the man’s lips. In the +deepening gloom of the evening she could see his face change to a mask +of indignant disappointment. She did not shrink from him. She did not +plead with him. In that dragging minute, Andy had stopped the car with a +jerk, Betty understood everything about this Westerner. And from that +instant had germinated and grown all the hatred and fear of the West and +its people that Betty Hunt had betrayed when first her brother had +suggested the journey to Canyon Pass. + +She had stepped out of the car. She had torn in small pieces the paper +the old minister had given her. She had drawn from her finger the plain +band Wilkenson had placed upon it, which she must have hidden in any +case, and thrown it from her into the bushes beside the way. + +Then Betty Hunt had commanded Andrew Wilkenson never to speak to her +again—never to try to see, write, or otherwise communicate with her. She +walked away from him. She heard the roar of the engine after a moment +and knew he turned the car and drove away. + +And that had been the end of Betty’s romance. She had not seen the +Westerner again. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX—A GOOD DEAL OF A MAN + + +During the ensuing weeks the cabaret singer went often to see Betty at +the hotel. They even rode together, for Joe Hurley suddenly became so +busy at the Great Hope Mine that he was forced to excuse himself, so he +said, from accompanying the Eastern girl on those pleasant jaunts which +both had so enjoyed. + +The two girls actually enjoyed each other’s society and found more than +a riding habit in which to feel a mutual interest. The friendship grew +out of a hunger in the hearts of both Nell and Betty. + +The parson did not make a third in their rambles, nor was he often in +sight when Nell called on Betty. The latter would not have encouraged +any intimacy between the mining-camp girl and Hunt under any +circumstances. She did not dream that her brother felt more than passing +interest in the half-wild Nell. + +The latter never attended the services held in Tolley’s old dance hall. +But the Passonians in general came to accept the religious exercises as +an institution and supported them fairly in point of contributions and +attendance. There was yet, however, strong opposition to the parson and +his work. Nor did it all center around Boss Tolley. + +Nell, soon after the beginning of her acquaintance with Betty, stopped +singing “This Is No Place for a Minister’s Son” and took up no other +ditty aimed in any particular at the Reverend Willett Ford Hunt and his +work. + +As for Hunt himself, he went forward, accepting both praise and blame +with equal equanimity. But he began to be worried secretly about Joe +Hurley. + +Hunt supplemented the morning preaching with a Sunday school in the +afternoon and a general service in the evening, at which he usually gave +a helpful talk on more secular lines than his morning sermon. + +Hunt would have been glad to have had more and better singing; but +although Rosabell Pickett did her best, the song service was far from +satisfactory. The parson never passed Colorado Brown’s place in the +evening and heard Nell’s sweet voice that he was not covetous. He would +never be satisfied—but he whispered this not even to Betty—until he +heard that voice leading his congregation in the meeting room. + +The rougher element that had at first attended the meetings mainly out +of curiosity soon drifted away. + +Hunt was not, however, above carrying his work out into the highways and +byways of the town. If the men would not come to his services, he +carried a measure of his helpful efforts to them. He did more than visit +the homes of Canyon Pass. He went, especially at the noon hour, to where +the men were at work. + +Hunt never made himself offensive. He did not join the workmen at the +mines or washings as a parson, but as another man, interested in their +labor and in themselves. + +Once a mule-drawn ore wagon broke down on the road to the ore-crushers. +It blocked the way of other teams. The parson took off his coat, helped +raise the wagon-body so the axle could be blocked, and aided in getting +on another wheel in place of the broken one. + +A man working alone in a ditch some distance from the Oreode was so +unfortunate as to bring a rock down and get caught by the leg. His +shouts for help were first heard by Hunt, who was striding along the +wagon track. Without other aid the parson pried up the rock and drew the +man out from under it. Then he carried the fellow, with his lacerated +leg, to his shack, where he lived with his partner; and between the +partner and Hunt the injured man was nursed as long as he needed +attention at all. + +This incident was the spark that started the idea of the hospital for +Canyon Pass in Hunt’s mind. He began to talk hospital to everybody, even +to Slickpenny Norris. The banker threw up his hands and began to squeal +at last. + +“That’s just it! That’s just it!” he cried. “I knew one thing would lead +to another if a parson come into this town. I told that crazy Joe Hurley +so. He had no business ever to have brought you here.” + +“What has my coming to Canyon Pass got to do with it?” Hunt asked +mildly. “The need of a hospital—there are always accidents happening at +the mines—was here long before I came. If a man is hurt badly he dies +before help can get here. Doctor Peterby is no surgeon—and you know, Mr. +Norris, he is not always to be trusted. This towns needs a place where +an injured man can get surgical treatment and proper nursing.” + +“I don’t see why,” muttered Norris. “We were getting along quite well +enough before you butted in.” + +Hurley, however, agreed with his friend. In spite of the fact that he +seemed to have “fallen from grace” a good bit, the owner of the Great +Hope was strong for all secular improvement of the town, whatever may +have been his private emotions regarding the religion that Hunt +represented. The movement for a hospital took form and grew. + +It was not these things, however, that endeared Hunt to the hearts of +the rougher element of Canyon Pass. And in time—and that before +fall—some of the toughest hard-rock men and muckers working in the mines +and at the Eureka Washings openly praised the Reverend Willett Ford +Hunt. + +Hunt one noon had given the men who gathered in a quiet place to eat +their lunches a little talk on first aid to the injured. He had sent to +Denver for several first-aid kits and was now going about from mine to +mine explaining the more important uses of the articles in the box. + +The men understood the helpfulness of this. Neglected wounds meant +blood-poisoning, one of the most painful scourges a prospector or miner +working far beyond the reach of surgeon and hospital, can have. It was +well to know, too, how to make a proper tourniquet, and how to lay a +bandage so that it would hold well. + +The whistle blew and the great engine was started. The men drifted away +to their several jobs. There were three pipes at work tearing down the +bank on the upper bench at the Eureka Washings, and others below. The +force of the water thrown from the nozzles of these pipes rocked the +mighty hydraulic “guns” and caused the men astride of them to hold on +with both hands. It took a husky fellow to guide that stream spouting +from between his knees. + +Hunt had returned the kit to the superintendent’s office and climbed to +the upper bench, intending to go over the highland to the Great Hope +Mine, which was nearer the West Fork River. Hi Brownell, who straddled +the middle gun up here, risked waving a cordial hand at the parson when +he saw the latter departing. The noise of the hurtling streams drowned +Hi’s voice, of course. + +Just as Hunt returned a smiling salute to the young fellow—one in whom +the parson was deeply interested, for Hi was really a worth-while +boy—the accident happened that was fated to mark this day as one long to +be remembered at Canyon Pass. Incidentally the occasion, more than any +other one thing, brought about the establishment of the new hospital. + +The whine and splash of the streams of water drowned most other sounds. +But of a sudden, as Hunt was turning his back on the scene, he heard a +sharp crack—a sound that would have penetrated the thunderous rumble of +a railroad train. + +Hunt wheeled. He saw Hi Brownell thrown high into the air as though from +a viciously bucking broncho, come down sprawling, and the savage stream +from his pipe strike the man and carry him, as though he were a leaf on +a torrent, into the cavity in the bank, against which the nozzle of the +pipe was aimed. + +The flapping limbs and struggling torso of Brownell were visible for a +moment only; then down upon the spot roared soil, gravel, and larger +stones, of which the bank’s strata were built. + +Unguided, the shooting stream from the gun swept first one way along the +bench, then the other. It corrugated the face of the bank deeply for +yards in either direction. For a moment Hunt saw again the struggling +body of the injured man at the edge of the fallen rubble. Then came +another slide to cover it completely! + +The broken hydraulic gun fell over on its side. The parting of some +section of it was what had thrown Brownell into the air and into the +path of its stream. + +But before the other gunners on the bench who saw Brownell’s accident +could shut off their streams, Hunt had acted. Some muckers tried to run +in to seize Brownell or dig him out from under the gravel that had +fallen, but the stream from the writhing pipe swept them aside like +chips. Half a dozen were rolling in the mud of the bench. + +Hunt sprang directly for the seat of the trouble. That hose-pipe had to +be controlled before a thing could be done to help the buried Brownell. +Precious moments were lost signaling to the engineer below to shut off +power. + +Hunt had not played football on his college team for nothing. He made an +extremely low “tackle,” for he went down on his knees and then slid +along through the mud to grapple with the writhing pipe that had broken +away from its fastenings. He got hold of it and wrestled with it for a +few seconds as two men might wrestle on the mat. When the other men came +running from below Hunt had conquered the formidable thing, and the +stream was shooting into the air, where all the harm it did was to +shower some of the men as it fell back to earth. + +For thirty seconds or more he held it so, until the stream was shut off +below. The others ran for the pile that had overwhelmed Brownell. They +dug into it with their bare hands, got hold of one leg, and dragged him +forth like a wet rag out of a pan of dishwater! + +He was alive; nor were there many bones broken. But he was a terrible +sight, and they had to work over him for some minutes before he breathed +again. Hunt went at this task, too, as coolly as did the superintendent. +That first-aid kit came in very handily at this juncture. + +The men stood around for a little while and watched and talked. The +accident had come near being a tragedy. + +“Believe me,” said one rough fellow, “that parson is a good deal of a +man. I’m for him, strong!” + +“You’d even go to church for him, would you, Jack?” chuckled his mate. + +“Church? I’d go to a hotter place than that for him!” was the prompt and +emphatic reply. + + + + +CHAPTER XX—MURDER WILL OUT + + +Joe Hurley had lost none of his admiration for his college friend whom +he had encouraged to come West. He still believed the Reverend Willett +Ford Hunt was the very man to find the heart of Canyon Pass. Nor did +events as they developed disprove his pre-judgment of the result of +Hunt’s coming. + +But it must be confessed a sour note had come into the life of the owner +of the Great Hope. He was a worker; he was energetic; he never under any +circumstances neglected business—not even when he had been most +attentive to Betty Hunt. But he now had little joy in his work and +looked for recreation to a means he had eschewed for the most part since +the Easterners had arrived. + +Like most men of his class and upbringing, the ex-cow-puncher found +satisfaction for a certain daring trait in his character at the gambling +table. The coarser forms of pleasure in the honkytonks did not attract +Joe Hurley. He danced occasionally with the better class of girls; he +never drank more than he thought was good for him—and he carried his +drink well; but when he “sat in” at a game of stud poker or went up +against the wheel—roulette was popular with the Passonians—he admitted +in his saner moments that he “didn’t know when he had enough.” The wild +streak in the fellow showed through the veneer of repression as it had +when he was in college. + +Hunt could not feel as lenient now toward these escapades as he once +had. Not alone had the Easterner’s outlook on life become more serious; +but after five years Joe Hurley, he thought, should have “grown up.” He +was, however, too wise to utter a single word in opposition to Joe’s +renewed course in moral retrogression. He took Sam Tubbs to task when he +met that old reprobate staggering home from the saloons and gave him a +tongue-lashing that Sam admitted afterward made his wife’s nagging seem +like a cradle lullaby. Hunt faced down Slickpenny Norris on the open +street, to the delight of the bystanders, over the banker’s +niggardliness in opposing the building and equipment of the hospital. +The parson had been known to seize upon two well-grown young fellows +fighting in a vacant lot to the delight of their fellows, knock their +heads together resoundingly and send each home “with a flea in his ear.” +But he had not a word of admonition it seemed for Joe Hurley. + +Yet Hunt was troubled about his friend. He feared Betty knew something +about the reason for the change in the mine owner. But here again he was +silent. He knew his sister well—too well to try to gain her confidence +on any matter which she would not give gratuitously. + +Hunt had been much too busy at the time when Hurley began to withdraw +from Betty’s companionship to notice the gradual drifting apart of the +two. When the brother awoke to the fact that his friend and his sister +seemed to be mere acquaintances again, Betty had found a close companion +in Nell Blossom. + +Under certain circumstances this latter fact might have encouraged Hunt +to consider his own influence with Nell as increasing; but by this time +he had gained more than a casual acquaintance with the cabaret singer’s +character. Joe Hurley had not written too strongly about Nell’s +stubbornness. Hunt had undertaken in several ways to break down the wall +the girl had raised between them. She fought him off with all the vigor +of a wildcat and without much more politeness than one of those felines +would have shown. + +He met her at Mother Tubbs’—not by intention; but he was rather +frequently there to confer with the uncultured but very sensible old +woman. Nell snubbed him, or scorned him, or was downright impudent to +him, just as her mood chanced to be. He had to warn the old woman to pay +no attention to the girl’s attitude or there would have been a flare-up +between the two. And Hunt very well knew that while Nell lived with +Mother Tubbs she was pretty safe. + +He heartily approved, too, of her intimacy with Betty. He could not +gauge the influence Betty was having on the self-willed girl; but he had +confidence in his sister, and he knew Nell would only be helped by the +association and that Betty would not be injured. + +The opposition of Boss Tolley and his gang was the last thing to trouble +the placidity of Parson Hunt’s soul. They snapped and barked, but had as +yet come to no close-quarters since Tolley’s adventure with the +pepper-besprinkled Bible. That tale had convulsed the Passonians with +mirth, and even when weeks later it was retold, it brought ready laughs +from the citizens. + +It was now fall, a golden-and-red autumn that enthralled the visitors +from the East when they looked abroad to the hills of a morning. Even +Betty confessed that the glories of the Berkshires at the same season +were surpassed by this sight. She had come now to appreciate the rude +and bold lines of the mountains and the gaudy color schemes of +frost-bitten shrubbery intermixed with the emerald of the _Coniferæ_. + +The early brightening of the face of nature by these autumnal tints +foretold for the natives of Canyon Pass an early winter. To make this +assurance doubly sure, old Steve Siebert and Andy McCann came wandering +back to the Pass weeks ahead of their scheduled time. + +It was a fair enough day when the two old prospectors came in—McCann in +the morning and Siebert along toward night. In all the time they had +been absent, after getting out of the canyon itself, they had not been +in sight of each other. One had prospected east of the Runaway, and the +other west. Their activities in fact had been at least a hundred miles +apart. But both had seen signs—unmistakable signs—of approaching winter. + +They met as usual the amused inquiries of the Passonians regarding the +“ten-strike” they had been expected to make. Was there due to be a +stampede for the scene of the claims they had staked out? Had they +brought in samples of the “real stuff” that would start a regular +Cripple Creek boom somewhere out in the Topaz? + +The two old men grinned, their watery eyes blinking, and “stood the +gaff” as patiently as they always did. Why did they spend half the year +in the ungodly loneliness of the desert places, and in the end bring +nothing back with them? Not even an additional coating of tan, for their +leathery faces and hands were already so darkened that the sun and wind +had no effect upon them. + +“You old duffers ain’t right in your minds,” said Judson to Andy McCann. +“Just as loco as you can be. Ye never did make a strike and ye never +will——” + +“Lots you know about it, Bill,” grumbled McCann, his jaws moving +stiffly. + +“Well, you never did, did you?” demanded the storekeeper, with twinkling +eyes. + +“If you were yere twenty years ago——” + +“You know derned well I was, Andy,” put in Judson. “Reckon I was. And +before.” + +“You recommember the flood then?” + +“I ain’t lost my mem’ry,” muttered Judson. + +“All right. Keep _that_ in yer mind,” said Andy, shaking his head in +senile fashion. “There was a discovery made that year that you—nor +nobody else in Canyon Pass—knowed anything about. Talk about the mother +lode! Well!” + +“Is that so?” cried the storekeeper eagerly. “Then why wasn’t it worked? +I knowed you and Steve brought in samples of the right stuff; but——” + +“Steve,” snarled McCann, his whole manner changing. “That derned rat? +Him? He didn’t have no more to do with findin’ that vein——Huh! Huh!” He +coughed, fell silent, went out of the store, deaf to any further +questions. + +It was Joe Hurley, standing with Hunt on Main Street, who was first to +welcome Steve Siebert as he came along, riding his lean mare and towing +the burro that looked as though it might have been carved rudely out of +desert rock. + +“Well, old-timer, I certainly am glad to see you,” the mining man said. +“What luck?” + +“Oh, so-so,” croaked the prospector. + +“Ain’t going to tell us you worked all summer just to get free air?” and +Joe chuckled. + +“Sumpin’ like it,” replied Siebert, and grinned toothlessly. + +“You do beat my time! Goin’ to come over to the Great Hope? There’s a +job for you.” + +“Mighty nice of you, Joe. I’ll come,” said the old man, nodding. + +“And not a darn thing to show for all your pickin’ and smellin’ about +the Topaz since spring?” + +“Not what you’d call a bonanza.” + +“Youbetcha!” ejaculated Hurley. He turned with a grin to Hunt. “Meet +Parson Hunt, Steve. We’ve done more in the Pass this summer than you +have on the desert. We’ve got us a real parson, and we’re aimin’ to have +a sure-enough church.” + +“That’s a good word,” agreed Steve solemnly, leaning to shake Hunt’s +hand. The old man’s palm was as dry and scaly as a lizard’s back. +“There’s a heap o’ folks yere that need religion. I understand that +derned Andy McCann’s got back.” + +The gibe was obvious. Joe grinned with appreciation. + +“Yep,” he said. “And he hasn’t got any more to show for his summer’s +work than you have.” + +“Him!” snarled Steve. “Of course he ain’t. That dumb-head wouldn’t find +gold in the mint. No, sir! Never did find any——” + +“I thought he did make a ten-strike once, but that the slide twenty +years ago knocked his claim into a cocked-hat?” + +“What? Him? Does he say so?” ejaculated Siebert, his wrinkled, tanned +countenance flaming angrily. + +“I heard tell,” and Joe chuckled. + +“He’s a plumb liar. He didn’t find any such thing. If there was any such +discovery made in them days, it was me that done it. Youbetcha! But +_him_! Huh! Anyway, it’s all buried deeper ’n the Pit—take it from me,” +and, grumbling, Steve Siebert rode on. + +“Believe me, Willie,” said Hurley, “there’s a case for you. Try to get +those two together.” + +“These two old men are enemies?” asked Hunt quietly. + +“That’s no name for it. They hate each other as only two fellers can who +once were the closest friends. Old Steve and Andy were once as close as +twins. But they tell me for twenty years they have been snarling at and +back-biting each other something scandalous. If you want to introduce +love and kindness into the hearts of Canyon Pass folks, Willie, just +give those two old ruffians a whirl.” + +He laughed—not the kind of laugh he would have uttered some weeks +before. There was a sneering note in Joe Hurley’s voice now when he +spoke of Hunt’s work and the better things of life. The parson noted it +now as he had often noticed it of late, but he said nothing in comment +at this time. He merely observed, before separating from Joe to return +to the hotel for supper: + +“Drop into the meeting room to-night, Joe. You haven’t shown much +interest in the Men’s Club lately, and the work should have your +approval. Besides, there are certain business matters that must be +discussed at once.” + +“Well,” said Joe gruffly. + +He did not promise to attend. He did not attend. + +“I wonder what kept Joe away?” Hunt ventured to Judson, as they, the +last of the company, left the meeting room and the parson locked the +door. That was never left unlocked since Nell Blossom’s trick with +Mother Tubbs’ Bible. “I expected him to-night to give us his views on +that matter.” + +The old storekeeper turned to him and grinned. “Joe’s mighty busy, I +reckon,” he said. + +“In the evening?” + +“This evening, youbetcha!” + +“In just what way, Judson? What’s up your sleeve?” + +“My funnybone,” chuckled the storekeeper. “And I have to laugh. Just +about once in so often Joe seems to lose ev’ry mite of sense he was born +with. He thinks he can beat the man that got the first patent out on +stud poker.” + +“Ah! I know Joe used to like cards. When he was East. But now——Is it as +bad as you intimate, Judson?” + +“Some worse, I’m free to say,” declared the old man. “Joe’s gone up +against Colorado Brown’s dealer, Miguel, several times lately. They get +up a round game of a few fellers—all friends. But Miguel is always +playin’ for the house. He’s a wonder. ‘Last Card Mike’ they sometimes +call him. He seems to be able to read clean through the backs of any +pack o’ cards you put up to him. He’s a wizard—no mistake.” + +“You mean that Joe is losing money in this game?” asked Hunt, with some +apprehension. + +“Me, I’d just as soon bet on flies with their shoes stuck in molasses as +to play stud. Youbetcha!” returned Judson, with a chuckle. + +Hunt separated from the storekeeper and walked slowly toward the Wild +Rose. He passed Colorado’s place; then he turned back. It is a matter of +much moment for one man to interfere in another’s private affairs, and +no one realized this fact better than the Reverend Willett Ford Hunt. +His office could not excuse any unasked advice or intervention in +Hurley’s chosen course, no matter how much Hunt desired to restrain his +friend. + +He hesitated again when he faced the swinging doors. There was not much +noise inside. This was not a Saturday night and the amusement places +along Main Street were not crowded. Most of the Passonians who wasted +their money in the several places of this character spent it all and +spent it quick. The mid-week nights were lean for the dive keepers. + +It was not lack of courage that restrained Mr. Hunt from preaching a +general revival and a bitter war against the cohorts of the devil in +this town. Merely, the time was not yet ripe. Sometimes he feared that +it never would be ripe. Certainly he had not yet reached the heart of +Canyon Pass. Since the first shack had been built here at the junction +of the two forks, the enemy had been in power; and it was now well +entrenched. + +But to-night Hunt was impressed by the feeling that his friend needed +him. Joe was slipping away from him. For some unexplained reason the +very man who had brought him here to the Pass and coaxed the idea of a +spiritual uplift of the place into germination, was backsliding. + +The parson began to feel that he could not stand by and see this thing +go on. He pushed through the flaps of the door. He had seldom entered +this, or any of the other saloons, in the evening. + +His entrance now, however, did not serve to startle any of the habitués. +Brown himself came forward to shake hands with the parson. Some of the +players at the green-covered tables nodded to Hunt. The three-piece +orchestra in the dance hall at the back was droning out a fox-trot. Nell +was not singing. The principal interest seemed to be about a corner +table at which the parson saw Joe Hurley sitting. + +After a word to Brown in greeting, the parson walked over to this corner +table and joined the group standing about it. Hurley looked up, grinned, +and said: + +“Hullo, Willie! Want me?” + +“I’ve something to ask you—by and by, when you are done.” + +“Looks like an all-night session,” returned Hurley, immediately giving +his attention to the cards again. “Mike, here, is trying to skin me +alive and the sheep is bleatin’. Deal ’em, Mike.” + +Hunt said nothing more; but he remained. By the grim set of Joe’s lips +and the silence of the company about the table, he knew that the moment +was unpropitious for any insistence on his part that his friend give him +his attention. Yet he had the feeling that something was going to +happen, that his place was here at this gambling table rather than at +the hotel with Betty. + +The event that he subconsciously expected, however, came from outside. +There was a sudden clamor at the door, the flaps swung in sharply, and +several men entered. Smithy, Judson’s gangling young clerk, was the most +noticeable member of the new group. He had a cut over his right eye, a +puff on his cheek-bone that could have been made by nothing but a heavy +fist, and when he spoke a crimson gap in his upper jaw betrayed the +absence of two teeth. + +“What’s happened to you, Smithy?” demanded Colorado Brown, coming +forward quickly. It would not be to the benefit of the house to have the +gamblers disturbed at this moment. “Somebody punch you?” + +“I’ll thay they did!” lisped Smithy. He was half sobbing, but he was mad +clear through. + +“They didn’t improve your looks none,” said Colorado. + +“Never mind muh lookth,” said Smithy. “I want to know what you fellers +think of this?” + +“I just told you. Whoever done it didn’t make you any handsomer,” +interposed the proprietor of the hall. “Now, if you’ve had a fight +outside, don’t bring it in here. We’re plumb peaceable here to-night, we +are.” + +“Wait till you hear what the kid’s got to say, Colorado,” put in one of +those that had entered with Smithy. + +“Spit it out!” advised the proprietor. + +“I want to know what Mr. Joe Hurley thinks of this?” Smithy managed to +make plain. “What do you think they are saying about Nell Blossom?” + +“Nell Blossom?” + +Hurley’s voice did not join the general chorus which repeated the +cabaret singer’s name. But he looked up, his gaze met that of the +parson, and a lightning glance of understanding passed between them. + +“What’s eatin’ on you, Smithy?” demanded Colorado Brown. + +“Up in Tolley’s. I was just in there. I heard Tolley and Tom Hicks and +some others of his gang talkin’. I couldn’t help hearin’ what was said, +and when I went for ’em this—this is what I got.” + +He almost choked on the words. Joe Hurley rose up as though a slow +spring uncoiled beneath him. + +“What did they say, Smithy?” he asked, and the tone of his voice seemed +to quell all other sounds. + +“Why, the skunks!” cried Smithy, “they said Nell Blossom shot Dick the +Devil last spring and flung him over the wall of the canyon into Runaway +River.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXI—THE DRAMA OF A LIE + + +The tense silence that followed Smithy’s half-sobbing speech marked the +poignancy of the moment and the utter stupefaction of his hearers. To +all but Joe Hurley and Hunt such an accusation as this aimed at Nell +Blossom was entirely unlooked for. If the crowd understood anything at +all, they understood that Boss Tolley, if he had started the scandal, +courted annihilation! + +Indeed the first question fired at Smithy following his statement was: + +“Why didn’t you fill ’em with lead, Smithy?” + +“I didn’t have no gun,” replied the grocery clerk. “And Tom Hicks downed +me before I could get at Tolley.” + +“Did he say it, Smithy?” demanded Colorado Brown. + +“’Twas him says he knows all about it. Says that Nell killed Dick +Beckworth.” + +They talked. But it was Joe Hurley who acted. He threw down the hand of +cards he held. + +“Mike,” he said to the Mexican, Miguel Santos, “you know I ain’t in the +habit of betraying cold feet. But I got some business to tend to. +Colorado,” he added to the proprietor, “I’ll settle when I come in +again. I’m in a hurry.” + +With the quickness of a cat he slipped through the crowd about the table +and Smithy and shot for the door. But the parson was at his elbow before +he could get through the portal. + +“You’d better keep out of this, Willie,” Hurley said between his teeth. +“There’s goin’ to be the devil to pay in a minute.” + +“It is as much my business as it is yours, Joe,” said Hunt, in step with +his long stride on the side-walk where they headed toward the Grub +Stake. “And we must do something before those fellows back there wake +up.” + +“What?” was Joe’s startled ejaculation. + +“That stupid Smithy has started something. Some of those fellows will be +out after us in a minute, and if they get to the Grub Stake before we +straighten things out, there will be trouble.” + +“Trouble? Youbetcha there’ll be trouble! And you’d better keep out of +it, Willie.” + +“I mean to stop it,” said Hunt softly. + +But Joe Hurley did not hear him. He turned abruptly and burst into the +main entrance of the Grub Stake. It did not take Joe Hurley’s trained +glance to see that something had happened here. Hunt sensed, too, that +if there had already been trouble, more of the same kind was expected. + +The girl who usually presided at the door—the girl who parked your gun +if you wanted to play, or your spurs if you wanted to dance and gave you +checks in return for them—had got out of the way. Several of the gaming +tables were empty. There was not a man standing in front of the bar, and +Boss Tolley’s assistants behind the “rosewood” had “stepped out.” + +Hunt knew at first glance that some of the toughest men in the camp were +gathered here—either about the remaining tables or with Boss Tolley at +the far end of the bar by the door of his tiny office where the safes +stood. That office, Joe had told the parson, was an arsenal. There was a +bodyguard around the dive keeper of at least six men. + +Joe Hurley saw that all this group was armed. A flash of the several men +at the gaming tables assured the mining man that they might be neutral, +save perhaps the dealers for the house. But he realized that Tolley’s +gang was primed for mischief. It was a wonder that Smithy, the poor +fool, had got out of the place alive! + +Hunt had pushed ahead of Joe the moment they stepped inside the door. +They were both big men, and Joe’s advantage of height could not hide the +parson’s bulk. In a flash, before a word was spoken, Joe took two long +strides sideways and got behind the first table, which was empty. And +he, by this act, left Hunt out of the line of any bullet aimed by the +gang standing at the end of the bar at himself. + +A gun had not yet been drawn, however, on either side. Nor had a word +been spoken by either Tolley and his gang or by the two men who had +entered so suddenly. Still, not a man in the barroom missed the +significance of Joe Hurley’s strategic move. + +Sam Tubbs, withered old scarecrow that he was, had been facing the door +at a near-by table. It was evident that Steve Siebert, the returned +desert rat, had been treating Tubbs to more liquor than was good for +him. But Sam had some wit left. + +Joe’s action forecast the popping of guns—instantly! Sam had seen too +many such brawls to play the part of “innocent bystander” if he could +help it. He let his feet slide out from under him, shot down in the +chair on the small of his back, and passed out of sight under the table +with all the celerity of an imp in a pantomime. + +Steve Siebert, however, did not even remove his pipe from his lips, but +wheeled in his chair and glared from Joe to Tolley and his bodyguard. +The old man swung a heavy, old-style six-gun low on his hip. But he did +not touch it—then. + +Joe’s attitude was as wary as that of a puma about to spring. He +crouched. By one quick motion he could overturn the table, drop behind +it, and use it as a bulwark. But he must move quickly enough to escape, +perhaps, seven bullets from as many guns. + +It was Joe Hurley who first spoke. + +“Tolley!” he said fiercely but clearly, “I warned you what I’d do if you +repeated that lie about the girl. You remember, well enough, you hound! +Stand out from those bootlickers of yours and take your medicine.” + +The challenge got no response from Tolley but a grimace like that of a +wolf in a trap. He did not make a motion to draw his own gun. He was too +wise to do that in any event, for he knew he could not beat Joe to it! +And then—what did he subsidize these gunmen for if not for such an +emergency as this? + +“Open your trap, you hound!” commanded Joe. “If you won’t fight, speak!” + +“Wait a moment.” + +The parson had actually not halted at all when he entered with Joe +Hurley. He had merely slowed up. He was approaching Tolley and his men +down the long length of the bar. But when he spoke Tom Hicks half drew +his gun. + +“Mr. Tolley,” Hunt said in the same clear but quiet voice, “will +undoubtedly explain and apologize for what we understand he has said +about the young woman in question. Come now, Mr. Tolley! you are ready +to take back your words, aren’t you? You have no more proof, have you, +of your—er—mis-statement than you had several weeks ago when you +discussed the affair with Mr. Hurley in my hearing?” + +“What are you butting in for?” returned Tolley with a threatening growl. + +“For the sake of peace, Mr. Tolley,” explained the parson determinedly. + +“Get back, Willie!” Joe ordered from the background. + +He dared not draw his gun, for if he did Hunt would be right in the line +of fire again. With a single motion Tom Hicks could get into action. + +“You derned buttinsky!” spat out Tolley vengefully. “Mind what you are +doing, or you’ll stop lead.” + +“That will not make a lie the truth, Mr. Tolley,” rejoined Hunt, now +squarely between the group of desperadoes and Joe Hurley’s position. + +“You mean to say I’m a liar?” blustered Tolley. + +“I mean to say that the story you have repeated about the young woman +and the man you say has disappeared has no foundation in fact and that +you have in your possession no proof to back your statement. If that is +calling you a liar, Mr. Tolley, then consider yourself so called!” + +There was a little stir among the listeners at the tables—a stir of +approval, and one voice ejaculated: + +“What’s it all about?” + +Evidently not all of these men now present had been at hand when Smithy +had taken offense at Tolley’s words earlier in the evening which +precipitated this situation. Hunt, without raising his voice at all, +continued: + +“I take it that you have no new evidence of a crime having been +committed? You did not see the man fall? You merely saw the young woman +at the summit of the declivity? Later you recovered a saddle you +recognized from the fallen rubbish? Am I right? Isn’t that the extent of +your evidence?” + +“Well! Look yere! I reckon I know what I am talkin’ about——” + +“But you do not talk about what you know,” interposed Hunt. “To my +personal knowledge—and that of Mr. Hurley—the missing man was not buried +under that heap of rubbish with his horse.” + +“Then he went into the river!” cried Tolley. + +Here Joe Hurley put in a very pungent word: + +“And that might easily be true. If you found his horse and removed the +saddle, you might have found the man, too, Tolley, and removed some of +his harness.” + +“What’s that?” was the startled demand. + +“From the first,” Joe said sternly, “I suspected you, Tolley. Your dust +won’t hide what you have done. You are altogether too sure the man is +dead—after first reporting that you had heard from him in Denver. + +“In fact, you are too anxious to cast suspicion on another person. Your +conscience—if you have such a thing—is troubling you, Tolley. At least, +your fears have made you try to invent a lie that doesn’t work out just +the way you expected it to.” + +“I’ll show you——” + +“You’ll show me nothing, Tolley!” retorted Hurley. “You’ll listen—and +these other gentlemen. You got the man’s saddle. It is just as probable +that you found his body, as well as that of the horse. And he was known +to wear a money-belt around his waist. He was likewise known to be +well-fixed when he left Canyon Pass. He’d been doing well here. You knew +it, if anybody did. You confess that you rode after the man. And you +confess that you got his saddle. Confess the rest of it, you dog. What +else have you got in your safe that belonged to——” + +Boss Tolley threw caution to the winds at this juncture. Hurley’s +scathing denunciation pricked to life in him such personal courage as he +possessed. He flung himself forward with a howl of rage and whipped the +gun from the holster at his hip. + +“Get down, Willie!” shouted Hurley and flung the table on its edge with +a crash, dropping behind it. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII—A FACE IN THE STORM + + +An interruption—a voice as hoarse as the croak of a vulture—rose above +the din of other voices: + +“Tolley! You other fellers! Put ’em up! H’ist ’em!” + +Tolley halted—it seemed in midflight. Even the gun hand of Tom Hicks +relaxed. From the other side of the room old Steve Siebert commanded the +situation—and the group of desperate men. The black muzzle of his gun +gaped like the mouth of a cannon. Hunt did not stand between him and +Tolley’s crowd. The old man steadied the barrel of his weapon on the +edge of the table behind which he sat and covered the bunch perfectly. + +“H’ist ’em!” he said again, and as Tolley’s gun clattered to the floor +and Hicks thrust back his weapon into his sheath, he added: “I don’t aim +to mix in what ain’t my business, as a usual thing. But when I see seven +skunks goin’ after two boys—an’ one o’ them a parson and not ironed +a-tall—I reckon on takin’ a hand. Put ’em up!” + +The ruffians obeyed. Seven pairs of hands reached for the smoke-begrimed +ceiling. Several startled faces appeared under the archway between the +barroom and the dance hall. One was the desert-bitten countenance of +Andy McCann. He would not have sat to drink in the same room with his +one-time partner; but Steve Siebert’s voice had stung McCann to action. +Steve saw him. + +“Andy, you derned old rat!” Steve cried, “shut that office door and lock +it. Then, just frisk them rustlers and remove their irons. There ain’t +goin’ to be no shootin’. Whatever the row is, it’s goin’ to be settled +plumb peaceful.” + +McCann snarled at the other old pocket-hunter like a tiger cat; but he +obeyed—and not without some enjoyment of the chagrin of Tolley and his +gangsters. + +“It takes us old sourdoughs to be slick,” he chuckled, when he had +dumped an armful of guns on an empty table. “You boys ain’t dry behind +the ears yet when it comes to shootin’ scrapes.” + +“There ain’t goin’ to be no shootin’,” repeated Steve Siebert. “Not +’nless them fellers start it with their mouths,” and he grinned such a +toothless grin that he almost lost his grip on the pipestem clamped in +one corner of his mouth. + +“Now, what’s it all about? What’s the row? What gal you talkin’ about? +Who’s the feller that was killed? I’m sort o’ curious.” + +Joe Hurley stood erect again. He laughed. + +“Great saltpeter!” he exclaimed, “you certainly are a friend in need, +old-timer.” + +“Come on,” rejoined Steve. “Let’s have the pertic’lars.” + +It was the Reverend Willett Ford Hunt who took upon himself the +explanation. + +“Nell Blossom!” cried Steve. “That leetle songbird? You mean to say all +this row is over her?” + +“Mr. Tolley has made the statement that Miss Blossom was the cause of +this Beckworth’s death. His horse went over the cliff into the canyon. +Whether or not the man went with it——” + +“He did!” cried Andy McCann, smiting his thigh resoundingly with his +palm. “By gravy! Is that what’s eatin’ all you fellers?” + +“Say! Who’s runnin’ this court, I’d like to know?” demanded Steve +Siebert angrily. + +“Aw, shut up—you old lizard,” said McCann, flaming at him. “’Tain’t no +court. It ain’t nothin’ like it. Put up your gun. It’s all off. Dick the +Devil ain’t dead at all. At least he wasn’t killed that time he went +over the cliff. He’s Dick the Devil sure ’nough, and he’s got more luck +than a hanged man.” + +“Just what do you mean?” Hunt asked. + +“Why, we seen him—me and that old rat sittin’ there with his gun, makin’ +goo-goo eyes. Sure! And me and him pulled Dick out of the river. He went +clean over his horse’s head and landed in the river—same’s a bird. He +might have been drowned if me and that ground owl there hadn’t got him +out. But he never said one word about Nell Blossom bein’ with him or +havin’ anything to do with his comin’ down that cliff. No, sir!” + +“Nary a word,” agreed the surprised Siebert. “Nary a word.” + +“What—what became of him?” stammered Hunt, a great weight lifted from +his heart. + +“He went along with me to the edge of the desert,” said Siebert slowly. +“He dried out at my fire that night. Next morning he lit out to hit the +Lamberton trail. That’s all I know about Dick.” + +“And it’s more than I knowed,” grunted Andy McCann. “That old rat there +might have garroted Dick for his money. But it sure wasn’t Nell Blossom +that croaked Dick the Devil—if he’s dead at all.” + +Here Hunt stepped between the two old prospectors. It looked as though +somebody had to separate them or there might have been a shooting, after +all! + +But it was Joe Hurley who had the last word. He set up the overturned +table and walked over to the bar. + +“To show that there’s no hard feelings,” he drawled, “this’ll be on me. +Get busy, Tolley, on the right side of this bar. And hereafter, you +think twice before you say anything you’re not dead sure of about Nell +Blossom. Somebody’d better drag Sam Tubbs out from under that table. He +don’t want to miss this.” + +There sounded a sudden rush of heavily shod feet outside the barroom +door. As Hunt had expected, an angry crowd from Colorado Brown’s burst +in. + +“Just in season, boys,” Hurley continued. “All a mistake about our Nell. +Tolley just proved himself to be as careless with the truth as he always +is. Isn’t that so, Tolley?” + +Tolley grunted. + + * * * * * + +The winter weather forecast by the return of Steve Siebert and Andy +McCann from the desert held off the next morning when Betty Hunt and +Nell started on their usual ride into the hills. + +Nell had heard a garbled report but few of the particulars of the +incident which the night before had threatened bloodshed at the Grub +Stake. She knew that the parson had again done something that was sure +to endear him to the Passonians in general. And his courageous act had +been in her cause. But she had failed to learn of the disproval of Dick +Beckworth’s reported death. + +She said nothing to Betty about the incident. She had begun to shrink +from discussing the rougher side of the life of Canyon Pass with the +parson’s sister. As Joe Hurley would have expressed it, Nell Blossom was +becoming “right gentled” through her association with Betty Hunt. + +Betty herself, in Nell’s company, managed to put aside those more +serious thoughts and anxieties of mind that ruffled her natural +composure at other times. Since the day, weeks before, when she had been +forced to wreck Joe Hurley’s hope of happiness, the cloud of despondency +that overshadowed her life seemed at times greater than she could live +under. + +Nor could the Eastern girl put aside such thoughts of the Westerner as +at first amazed and startled, then revealed to the honest soul of Betty +Hunt that the unfortunate circumstance in her past life that made it +impossible for her to make Joe happy, likewise barred her own heart from +happiness. + +Wicked as her strict upbringing made the fact seem, she had to admit +that she had fallen under the spell of Joe Hurley’s generous character, +that she loved him. She could not deny this discovery, although it +filled her mind with confusion. Wedded to a man she hated and in love +with a man she could not wed! + +In any event, this was a secret—like the other that so disturbed +her—which under no circumstances could she confide to either her brother +or any friend. At first she felt the discovery a degrading one. Brought +up as she had been under the grim puritanism of her Aunt Prudence Mason, +the idea of a married woman admitting that she loved a man other than +the one she was married to was a sin. The idea of divorce was as foreign +to her religious training as was the thought of fratricide. + +She was cheerful on the surface at least when she and Nell rode out of +Canyon Pass and through the East Fork. They climbed the canyon wall on +that side by a tortuous path on which only a burro or a very sure-footed +pony was safe. It was Nell, when they were once on the summit, who +discovered the threat of a weather change. + +The air was very keen. Many of the bushes by the way had shriveled +during the night as though before a furnace blast. + +“Black frost,” said the younger girl. “Old Steve and Andy know their +little book. Sam says Steve told him there was a blizzard coming. We +won’t ride far to-day, Betty.” + +“A blizzard? Only fancy,” murmured the Eastern girl. + +She was not much impressed. She had no experience—even of New England +winter storms—to enable her to judge the nature of a storm in these +Western mountains. + +But Nell should have known better than to lead the way into a gulch +which quite shut them in from sight of the surrounding country. A +blizzard is a chancy thing; and often the first storm of a Western +winter is the worst of all. + +They rode to a spring at which deer drank; they saw many tracks, but +there were none of the pretty creatures in sight. Birds fluttered +through the chaparral with strange cries, and the rabbits ran back and +forth as though much disturbed by domestic happenings. + +“I never saw them jacks so queer acting,” said Nell thoughtfully. “We’d +better ride home, Betty.” + +“Why?” asked the other girl gayly. “You are not afraid they will attack +us, are you?” + +“Not that,” and the Western-born young woman smiled. “But there’s +something comin’, I reckon—just as Steve and Andy say.” + +Before they rode up out of the gulch they heard something slashing like +a multitude of knives through the dead leaves overhead. When they rode +out into the open they beheld the thick cloud that had almost reached +the zenith, and out of that cloud came not snow, but ice! + +Fine particles of the sharpest crystal were driven in a thick haze +through the singing air. Nell instantly whipped off her neckcloth and +tied it across her nose and mouth, warning Betty to follow her example. + +“Get this in your lungs, Betty, and you’ll have pneumonia as sure as +sure!” she shouted. + +Frightened, they urged their ponies on to the beginning of the rough +path down the canyon wall. Although they were soon somewhat sheltered +from the driving ice-storm there were bare places where the two girls +suffered the full force of the gale. + +“I know a place!” cried Nell in a muffled voice. “We got to hole up till +this stops. Come on!” + +It had grown dark of a sudden. Nell pulled her pony off the path, and he +picked his way daintily to a cavity in the wall. Here an overhanging +rock offered some shelter. At least, the girls were out of the steady +beat of the storm. + +They dismounted and got behind the ponies, between their warm bodies and +the rock itself. If Betty was the more frightened of the two, she showed +it no more than did Nell Blossom. + +The air became thicker and the whine of the wind rose to a shriek which +all but drowned their voices when they tried to communicate with each +other. It was such a manifestation of the storm king as Betty Hunt had +never seen before. + +They were but a little way off the path. Suddenly both girls, in spite +of the wind, heard the clatter of shod hoofs. Another horse was coming +down the path. In a moment they dimly saw the looming figure of a man +leading the animal. + +“Who is it?” gasped Betty, but if Nell heard the question she did not +answer. + +Nell clutched Betty’s wrist for silence. The girls stared at the man +beating his way downward. He wore a broad-brimmed hat, but they could +see the long, black, curling hair flowing from beneath it. He turned his +face toward them, and Betty beheld the keen face and heavy mustache of +the stranger she had seen hiding from the sheriff and his posse weeks +before near the trail to Hoskins! + +The man progressed so slowly, and he was so near, that the Eastern girl +could study his features now with more certainty. There was something in +the contour of his face that reminded her of Andy Wilkenson! + +Could it be he? Was it possible that this fugitive—the man the officers +had accused of a crime—was the debonair Andy who had so enthralled her +girlish mind and heart back there at Grandhampton Hall? + +She had not forgotten Wilkenson’s observations about Crescent City. +Betty had never ceased to fear that he might appear to her in this part +of the great West. But here—now—and in this dramatic manner? + +Much shaken, she turned to look at Nell Blossom. She suddenly realized +that the other girl was sagging against her shoulder very strangely. She +glanced down into Nell’s muffled face. + +The younger girl’s eyes were closed. She was as pallid as death itself. +Nell Blossom had fainted! + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII—A GREAT LIGHT DAWNS + + +Some men can escape their duty if they choose to—can ignore it, flout +it, even deny its very existence—but not one who is called to be a +leader of men toward a higher plane of daily existence. The greatest +sophism with which the race has ever been cursed is that hoary one of +the lazy preacher: “Do as I say, not as I do.” + +Religious precept is utterly worthless if the preceptor does not follow +his own expounded faith with a living example. The Reverend Willett Ford +Hunt had come to that pass where he could no longer ignore the fact that +his friend, Joe Hurley, was on the down grade. When the parson cooled +down after the exciting events of that evening, both in Colorado Brown’s +place and at the Grub Stake, he saw more clearly that he had fallen into +error. + +If he was to be the spiritual guide and mentor of his congregation at +Canyon Pass, he must be the same to one member of it as he was to +another. He had not been slow to admonish others of his parishioners; +but the man who had brought him here—the one whom he really looked upon +as being his chief supporter in the work he was striving to do—was +slipping away from him and into flagrantly evil ways. + +If Hunt’s character has been revealed at all in this narrative, moral +and physical courage have not seemed to be its lack. Then why had the +young parson failed to go after Joe Hurley as he did after Judson, the +storekeeper, Sam Tubbs, Hi Brownell, Smithy, and other men who were wont +to “kick over the traces”? + +There was just one clear and cogent reason why Hunt had not taken Joe to +task for his failings, as he already had many another man in Canyon +Pass. His old friendship for Joe had nothing to do with this neglect. +And certainly he did not fear making the good cause in which he was so +interested a powerful enemy. There was nothing in Joe Hurley’s generous +character that would suggest that for a moment. + +It was, in short, the fact that Hunt believed that he and Joe were in +love with the same girl. + +Although, as far as Hunt had observed, Nell Blossom displayed no +particular fondness for Joe Hurley, the latter believed the mining man +“understood” the cabaret singer. At least, Nell revealed no such disdain +for Joe Hurley as she had publicly for Hunt. + +When the latter reviewed the late incidents as they related to Joe, +while he tossed on his mattress that night, he admitted he was taking +the wrong course with his friend. He had seemed tacitly to overlook sins +of commission on Joe’s part that he would have pilloried in another. + +Had Hurley not been heated by drink and his passion for gambling, he +would not have pursued that unwise course in going to the Grub Stake in +a mood which had all but precipitated tragedy. Joe’s recklessness had +been unleashed, and Hunt had been obliged to stand by after the +unexpected conclusion of the scene and see his friend drink with the +very men who, a few minutes before, had been ready to take Joe’s life. + +He arose with a new determination. He saw his sister and Nell Blossom +ride away from the Wild Rose Hotel. Then he made his way directly to the +Great Hope Mine. + +Hurley had an office—a small shack—off at one side. The parson found him +alone in it, his boots cocked on his battered desk, his pipe drawing +well. His grin was as infectious as ever. + +“Well, Willie! some time that last night, eh?” was Joe’s greeting. “When +I get in a tight corner again, I’ll never wish for a better side-partner +than you, old sobersides!” + +“Joe,” returned Hunt with a directness that seemed brutal, “if you had +been your sober self last night—quite the same man you are wont to +be—there would have been no tight corner.” + +“Huh?” The other’s boots came to the floor with emphasis. His brown eyes +sparked. The muscles of his jaws set grimly. “You’ve got a crust, +Willie, to talk to me like that.” + +“You need talking to, Joe; and I’m going to do the talking. No! Sit +right where you are and listen. You’ve got it coming to you; and, if you +are the man I have always thought you, you’ll stand the gaff.” + +“Aw, shucks! A drink or two isn’t going to kill Joe Hurley.” + +“A drink or two kills his moral sense, and kills his usefulness as a +good citizen,” returned Hunt. “Then, you have been gambling steadily.” + +“Great saltpeter! isn’t a feller to have any fun at all? I haven’t lost +much to Miguel.” + +“It is your example to the rest. And what you have lost would help the +fund for our church building. And we must have a church, Joe.” + +Joe uttered something under his breath. + +“What makes you so reckless, Joe?” + +“Shucks, Willie! Maybe I have slipped a few cogs. A lone bachelor like +me can’t help it sometimes, can he?” asked Hurley, with a smile that +tried to be whimsical rather than bitter. “Remember, Willie, I haven’t +got a sister to keep me well balanced. It’s womenfolks and—and an +interest in one that makes a man a sobersides.” + +“Is it!” returned Hunt, with scorn. “If a man hasn’t the stamina to stay +straight, no girl will ever keep him in the narrow path—believe me!” + +“You belittle Miss Betty’s powers of persuasion,” returned Joe, with a +sly glance. + +“If that is your belief,” Hunt said, with sharpness and a rising color, +“I should think you would keep straight for Nell’s sake.” + +“Nell Blossom?” + +“Yes. You are interested in her, aren’t you?” + +“Surest thing you know, Willie.” + +“Then, for her sake——” + +“Hold on!” ejaculated Hurley, sudden suspicion in his gaze. “Do you +think I’m soft on Nell?” + +“Well—er—aren’t you?” demanded his friend rather faintly. + +“I’m free to confess I was,” said Joe slowly, watching Hunt now with +growing understanding in his eyes. “But that little skeesicks showed me +where I got off long ago. And I tell you fair, Willie, she is not the +girl who is bothering me.” + +“Then, there is a girl? Joe! You and Betty——” + +Hurley put up his hand, turning his face away. “No use, Willie. Betty’s +given me my congé, too. I reckon I am an ‘also-ran’ with the ladies.” + +“My dear Joe!” Hunt grabbed his hand. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand +Betty.” + +Hurley went to the door suddenly, opened it, and looked out. A cold +blast from the hills ruffled the papers on the desk. The sun was +suddenly dimmed. In the distance the coming wind whined like a sick dog. + +“Say! we’re going to get it,” he muttered. + +“A storm coming?” asked Hunt absently. His own heart sang. A foolish +happiness swept over him. He went to look out over Hurley’s shoulder. +“Does it look bad to you?” + +“Youbetcha! It’s coming faster than you ever saw a storm move, I reckon, +Willie. Those old has-beens, Steve and Andy, can’t be fooled. They got +in from the desert just ahead of it.” + +“A blizzard, Joe?” cried the parson with sudden anxiety. “The girls!” + +“What about them? What girls?” + +“Betty and Nell. They’ve gone out on horseback.” + +“You don’t mean it? Er—Well, Nell must have seen it coming and turned +back. She knows this country as well as a man. But, come on! Let’s go +down to Tim’s corral and see if the ponies are in again. It wouldn’t +do——” + +He slammed the office door, shouted to his manager, and strode away. +Hunt had to put his best foot forward to keep up with him. Women and +children were already scuttling to shelter when they went down through +the town. Bill Judson waved a hand at them from his door, shouting: + +“Them old desert rats knowed their biz, didn’t they? I’d set my clock by +them, I would.” + +At the corral the two young men saw at a glance that the girls’ ponies +had not been returned by Cholo Sam. They went on toward the hotel in +silence. Now the first needles of the ice-storm cut their faces. It was +nothing like any storm Hunt had ever seen. And how fast it grew in +volume and strength! + +Cholo Sam and Maria were at the door of the hotel, looking down the +street eagerly and anxiously. + +“Which way did they go?” shouted Hurley, without any preamble. + +“Oh, Señor Hurley!” cried Sam. “To the East. T’roo the East Fork.” + +Already sight of the rugged path up the heights on that side of the +canyon was blotted out by the driving ice particles. + +“Shall we get horses and go after them?” panted Hunt. + +“Horses won’t live in this. Maybe we can stir up some of the boys to go +with us. Wish I had my roughnecks here.” + +But there was not time to go back to the mine. The storm had come on so +suddenly that the workers above the town might hole in until the first +force of the blizzard was over. + +Hunt ran up to his room to get his heavier coat and a couple of +blankets. As he descended the stairs, Cholo Sam came from the barroom +with a filled flask in his hand. + +“Some of the best brandy, Señor Hunt,” he said. “It is for the seekness +only that comes with the cold. Ah thees ice in the lungs is death, +señor—death!” + +The parson took it without hesitation and slipped it into his pocket. He +ran out to see Joe Hurley coming out of Colorado Brown’s place with Jib +Collins and Cale Mack behind him. In another few seconds, so rapidly did +the driving ice thicken the air, Hunt lost sight of the trio and they +fairly bumped into him when they reached the spot where he stood. + +“That you, Willie?” shouted Hurley. “We’ll get a rope and tie ourselves +together. Tie mufflers over our faces. Say, there may be some more +fellers in the Grub Stake who will help.” + +He turned that way, finding his direction more by sense than by sight. +They stumbled up the steps and in at the door of the Grub Stake. + +At that very moment a half-frozen man, leading a storm-battered horse, +had fallen at Tolley’s rear door. The dive keeper was dragging him into +the place like a log as Hurley, Hunt, and their companions strode into +the barroom. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV—THE BARRIER DOWN—FOR A MOMENT + + +“Hey, you fellers!” shouted Tolley to the several men in the barroom of +the Grub Stake. “Come give me a hand. Here’s a feller that’s taken +pretty near his last pill, I reckon.” + +The parson, as well as Hurley and the others, responded to the dive +keeper’s call. Tolley kicked shut the back door with savage insistence +against the driving wind. + +“I reckon his hoss is done for,” he panted. “But the feller himself—Hi, +Nobbs! get him a jolt of something hot.” + +Hunt and Joe Hurley helped raise the senseless man, and, with Tolley +carrying the feet, they moved him close to one of the glowing stoves. +His hat fell off. It was Joe who voiced a surprise that was not his +alone. + +“Why, Tolley! here’s your dead man now. As I’m a sinner—and the parson +assures me that I am—this is Dick Beckworth.” + +“Dick the Devil!” ejaculated two or three in chorus. + +“This is a nice sort of a day for him to come back,” muttered Tolley, +evidently quite as much amazed as the others. + +Hunt peered into the face of the senseless man. There was a certain +regularity of feature, in spite of the sharpness and blueness caused by +the extreme cold he had suffered, which the parson saw might lead the +casual observer to consider Dick Beckworth handsome. His complexion was +as spotless as a girl’s; the skin scarcely tanned; ears and nose small +and perfectly formed; the closed eyes, long-lashed; and the brows as +delicately marked as though done with a stencil. + +He was shaved, although he had come out of the wilderness, and his +jet-black mustache was as silky as his long hair. Dick Beckworth, +gambler and lady’s man, without doubt made a striking appearance +wherever he went. Even lying there on the bench, colorless, and with his +eyes closed, the parson realized that the man would be indeed a +“heart-breaker”—among young and inexperienced women at least. + +It could not be doubted that he had made a strong impression upon the +almost childish mind and heart of Nell Blossom. She must have been +attracted by this man just as she would have been by a gaudy flower or a +bird of brilliant plumage. + +Hunt felt a strange loathing for the gambler, much as his present state +should excite pity. This was the man, he believed, who had brought about +the change that Joe Hurley said had suddenly come over Nell Blossom’s +character. + +Beckworth had hidden the fact that he had escaped death through his fall +into the canyon and so had laid a burden of terror and anguish upon +Nell’s heart, which was reason enough for her apparent hatred of all +mankind. + +Nobbs, the barkeeper, brought the drink at Tolley’s command. They forced +open Dick’s jaws and poured the potent stuff into him. The color almost +instantly stained his cheeks. His eyelids fluttered. He choked. + +“What was it Andy McCann said about him?” Hurley said thoughtfully. +“He’s got the luck of a hanged man. He’s coming around all right. But +there are others out in the storm that need help more than this fellow.” + +“Who’s that?” asked one of the men who had been loitering at the Grub +Stake bar. + +Hurley explained briefly about the absent girls. Two men besides those +already of their party volunteered to join Hurley and the parson. A +rope—a hair lariat—was likewise found with which the searchers could +bind themselves together. It would be the simplest thing imaginable to +drift away from each other in such a blinding storm. + +Dick Beckworth gave unmistakable signs of returning consciousness. He +groaned, struggled, raised up on an elbow to stare about. + +“Hold on!” the parson said to Joe. “See if the man can speak. He may +know something.” + +“Right you are, Willie,” Hurley agreed. He leaned over the dazed +gambler. “Hi, Dick! Do you know me? Joe Hurley! See?” + +“Where—where am I?” whispered Dick. + +“You’re in the Grub Stake, all right, Dick,” broke in Tolley eagerly. +“The old Grub Stake, I tell ye—that you never ought t’ve left.” + +“Grub Stake? Tolley?” questioned Dick. Then he opened his eyes wide and +recognized Hurley’s face so close to his own. “That you, Joe? I——” + +“Which way did you come into town, Dick?” broke in the mining man. + +“Eh? What?” + +“Did you come through the East Fork or the West Fork?” + +“Why—why, the East Fork.” + +“You did! Did you see anybody on the way down? You came down the cliff, +didn’t you? Anybody up on the plain?” were Hurley’s excited questions. + +“Why—I—I——” + +“Two women are out in the storm,” went on Hurley. “Did you see them +anywhere up yonder?” + +“Two women? I—I thought they were men. They rode down ahead of me. Then +it grew so—so thick I couldn’t see ’em again.” + +“Great saltpeter!” exclaimed Hurley. “You must have passed ’em. They are +up there somewhere among the rocks.” + +“Or they’ve gone over the rocks—hosses and all!” groaned Collins. + +“Shut up!” muttered his chum, Cale Mack. “Ain’t you got no sense? Look +at the parson!” + +“This is Parson Hunt,” explained Hurley to the staring Dick. “His sister +Betty is one of the missing girls you saw.” + +“_Who?_” gasped Dick. “Betty Hunt? Here? Here? At Canyon Pass?” + +“My sister,” Hunt said hoarsely. “Didn’t you see her and Nell Blossom +again as you rode down?” + +“Your sister?” repeated the startled gambler. “Betty Hunt—your sister?” + +He fell back and closed his eyes. Hurley started for the front door. + +“No time to lose, boys,” he cried. “Come on! Betty and Nell are +somewhere up there along that path. No more delay.” + +He had already knotted one end of the rope around his waist. Hunt +followed his example, leaving six feet or more of slack between them. +The other men who were going with them quickly fastened themselves in +rotation. They knotted neckerchiefs or mufflers across their faces. +Nobbs opened the door for them, and the file went out into the storm. + +The roar of the storm as the men came out upon the open bank of the East +Fork made the human voice quite inaudible. Nor could they communicate by +signs, for only the dim outlines of the man before him could be seen by +the man behind. A tug of the rope was the only signal understood between +the searchers. + +The driven hail churned the surface of the river to a livid foam. The +reflection of this sheet of ruffled water lent them more light than the +sun itself. The storm beat upon the string of men with a savageness that +appalled Hunt, who had never experienced nature in so bitter a mood. + +But what these men of Canyon Pass could do, the parson would not shrink +from. And were not the two beings he loved most in this world—Nell +Blossom and his sister Betty—in desperate peril somewhere on the other +side of the wind-lashed stream? + +The water was all of knee-depth over the bar, but Joe waded in without +hesitation. They were none of them shod properly for the wading of the +stream; but their personal discomfort—or, indeed, their personal peril +in any way—did not enter into their consideration in this emergency. Two +girls were somewhere up there among the rocks, harassed by the storm and +in danger of their lives. The men’s job was to get them. + +The ice—it was more than mere sleet that whipped them so +unmercifully—cut such parts of their faces as were bare, needle sharp +and stinging. From under the peak of his cap each man could now see +scarcely a yard before him. They stumbled on as though they were in an +unlighted cavern. Once Joe stepped off the track and plunged waist deep +in a hole. Hunt hauled him back by the rope, and after a moment they +went on again. + +They reached the farther bank and stumbled up the sleet-covered strand, +standing in a group together for a minute to get their breath and to +ease the binding-rope about their bodies. + +“I reckon I can smell out the path, boys,” said their leader, so they +started off again. + +As they pressed upward, now and then they shouted—sometimes in unison. +But their voices could not penetrate the gale far. The sounds were blown +back into their faces as though rebounding from a blank wall. + +At a point some distance up the path Hurley halted again and allowed the +others to approach. He bawled at them: + +“There’s a place yonder somewhere under the cliff—I remember it—a +half-shelter. They might have reached it.” + +“Don’t get off the path, Joe!” warned Jib Collins. + +“But if the girls got off the path?” + +“We don’t want to lose our way,” objected Mack. + +“I’m going to take a look!” ejaculated Hurley obstinately. But he could +not untie the knot which held him. He fumbled at it. “Got a knife, +Willie?” + +The parson had already drawn out his pocket-knife. But he slashed the +rope between Collins and himself. + +“I’m going with you, Joe,” he declared. + +“Keep shoutin’!” bawled Collins, as the two younger men started off at a +tangent from the path. + +The bowlders were glassed with ice. The two friends floundered and +slipped about in an awkward way, straining themselves enormously and not +seldom falling. The one aided the other. It was fortunate, Hunt +realized, that they had come together, for one man alone could never +have accomplished the journey to the sheer wall of the cliff. + +Of a sudden there seemed to be a lull in the gale. Really, they had +reached a more sheltered spot. The storm sang around them, but they were +not so terribly buffeted. + +Joe shouted again: + +“Nell! Nell Blossom! Betty!” + +Hunt joined his voice to that of his friend. They continued to bellow +the girls’ names. Hurley grabbed the parson’s arm suddenly. + +“Hush!” + +There was a response. A wailing voice replied. + +“It’s Betty! Your sister!” shouted Joe, and plunged forward, +half-dragging the equally excited Hunt with him. + +Something loomed up before the latter. He ran into the barrel of a +standing horse! + +“Here they are!” yelled Hurley. + +Somehow, the two young men got around the horses. There was a sheltered +place between the beasts and the wall of rock. Hunt heard his sister +crying and laughing somewhere near. But it was not she whom he first +found. + +“Oh, Mr. Hunt! Oh, Mr. Hunt!” sobbed Nell Blossom’s voice. “Are you +real? You ain’t another ghost, are you? Oh! Oh!” + +Hunt’s arms were around the girl, and he held her fast. Near by, he +knew, Joe and Betty were talking—perhaps were whispering. His own lips +were close to Nell’s ear. + +“My dear! My dear!” the parson said over and over again. “God is good to +me! I’ve found you safe.” + +Nell snuggled into his arms like a frightened child and clung to him. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV—UNDERSTANDING + + +It was Betty Hunt, who, after all, seemed to possess the bolder spirit +of the two girls. Nell clung to the parson like a frightened child. He +realized, however, after the first flush of his emotion that he had +allowed his own overpowering desire for the singer to confuse his mind. +The barrier between them was down for a moment only; he raised it again +himself, for he knew he was taking advantage unfairly of the terrified +girl. + +It was Hunt, however, who lifted Nell Blossom into her pony’s saddle +with one of the blankets wrapped well about her, and when Joe Hurley +started away leading Betty’s mount, the parson followed close behind. +The two young men had freed themselves of each other; but the horses and +their riders bulked so big against the driving curtain of the storm that +they could scarcely lose each other. + +They heard the other searchers shouting and Joe pulled his gun from its +holster and fired two shots into the air. The signal was replied to +immediately. In a minute or two Joe ran, head-on, into Jib Collins. + +“Hey! did you find ’em both?” bawled the man. + +“Youbetcha!” responded Hurley. “When the parson and I go out, we bring +home the bacon, every time.” + +They took up the march to the ford. At the water’s edge one of the other +men came to the off side of each pony, and they forced the snorting +animals into the stream. The foaming barrier did not look encouraging to +the storm-beaten beasts. + +They all got through safely and up into the town. The driving storm was +changing to snow and sleet; but the foundation of ice that had first +fallen made walking difficult. The girls were lifted off their horses +and carried up into Betty’s room, where Maria gave them every assistance +in her power. Somebody put away the horses. Joe scurried off to his own +bachelor shack, while Hunt stripped in his room and gave himself a +savage rub-down with coarse towels. It had been a terrible experience; +but his spirits and his blood were both in glow! + +Surely Nell Blossom could not be unfriendly hereafter. It must be +confessed that the parson’s thought was more entangled with Nell and his +recent association with her than in anything else. + +Cholo Sam brought up a steaming pot of coffee, his dark face expanded +with delight. + +“Ah, Señor Hunt!” the Mexican said, “you an’ de Señor Hurley—you are de +pure queel, eh? De boys all cheer you—my goodness, yes!” + +When Hunt was dressed again he went to Betty’s door and knocked. His +sister’s response to his summons was brisk and cheerful, as usual. Yet, +when he entered and looked keenly at her, he thought there was something +feverish—or was it expectant?—in the look she gave him. + +The girls were both in the big bed, heaped with blankets. Nell’s petite +face, ruffled about by one of Betty’s boudoir caps, was pale. Indeed, +the parson’s sister looked in much the better condition of the two. The +excitement and danger of the adventure which had befallen them seemed to +have affected the girls in a paradoxical manner. Whereas the Eastern +girl might be expected to be overcome by the affair and Nell have +suffered the adventure as an ordinary experience, the result seemed +really to be the other way around! Nell lay in the bed pale, almost +hysterical it would seem. Betty could scarcely control her excitement. + +“Ford!” she exclaimed, “I need you. Try to convince this foolish girl +that there is no such thing as a ghost—a real ghost.” + +Hunt smiled, but he could not be unsympathetic. He realized that Nell +Blossom, being brought up as she had been—even associating so long with +Mother Tubbs—was probably hopelessly superstitious. He could not find it +in his heart to oppose roughly any fear Nell might hold regarding +supernatural things. He tried to put his admonition in a kindly way. + +“If there is any truth at all in the matter of ghosts,” he said, “it +must be of a somewhat unreal nature, must it not? Ghosts are supposed to +be too ethereal for sight or touch or sound. And the only smell, even, +accompanying their visitations, is supposed to be of brimstone, isn’t +it?” + +“That feller ought to smell of brimstone all right!” muttered Nell +suddenly hectic in her language. “He ought to come plumb from the bad +place.” + +“What does she mean?” Hunt asked Betty. Yet he half suspected what was +in the singer’s mind. “Did you girls see——” + +“Nell declares,” interrupted Betty, still with that strange excitement, +“that she has seen the ghost of a man she calls Dick Beckworth.” + +“Dick Beckworth,” Hunt repeated calmly. “You saw him, I presume,” he +watched the pale face on the pillow all the time, “on the side of the +cliff over yonder? He rode down behind you——” + +“Do you mean——” gasped Nell. + +A flame of color flashed into both her cheeks. Her blue eyes grew round +with surprise. + +“He says he came into town by that path,” the young man rejoined. “He +put us on to the track of you girls. He said he saw you start down the +path ahead of him.” + +“He is alive!” murmured Nell. + +“His horse was in bad shape, I believe,” Hunt told her. “But the last I +knew—just before we left the Grub Stake to look for you—Dick Beckworth +gave every promise of getting on quite well.” + +“Dick the Devil!” muttered Nell. “That sure is his name.” + +“From what I have heard about him,” said Hunt, “I think his nickname +quite fits him. But it was probably Tolley’s meanness alone that made +you—that is,” he hastened to correct himself, “that made all of the +trouble. That was thrashed out last evening, Miss Nell. Steve Siebert +and Andy McCann proved Dick was not dead, although he did go over the +cliff back there in the spring.” + +“I don’t know what you are both talking about,” Betty interposed. “Who +is this—this—Dick Beckworth, do you call him?” + +“A gambler, Betty,” said her brother. “You would scarcely know such a +person. But unfortunately both Miss Nell and I have been obliged to mix +with all classes of society,” he smiled again, “and so we know such +people.” + +“Nell should not sing in those places.” Betty said it with conviction. +But in a moment she turned again to the identity of the man whose +reappearance had startled Nell Blossom so greatly that she had fainted +in the storm. “What—what does this man, Dick, look like?” + +“Not an unhandsome fellow,” said the parson generously. “A somewhat +cruel face—ruthless perhaps would be the better term. Good features; a +beautiful complexion—if such a term should be applied to a man’s skin,” +and he laughed. + +“You do not like him, Ford!” exclaimed Betty quickly. + +“Would I be likely to?” mildly asked her brother. + +“Oh! But I do not want a psychoanalysis of the man,” said Betty, and she +used a handkerchief to half hide her own face. “Just what does he look +like?” + +“Mildly dark. A beautiful, oiled mustache—like a crow’s wing as the +Victorian lady novelists would say. Heavy black hair. Under different +circumstances—you must remember I saw him only after he was dragged out +of the storm and on the border of a collapse—I judge Dick Beckworth +would be quite the gentleman in all appearance, and quite the devil at +heart.” + +“You said it!” agreed Nell. + +“A mustache—and thick black hair,” murmured Betty. “Yes. I saw him go by +when we were cowering there under that wall, too. Well, I am relieved.” +Her laugh did not sound right in her brother’s ears. “I am glad that it +did not turn out to be a real ghost.” + +Hunt sat down upon a chair at Nell’s side of the bed. The singer looked +at him, and there suddenly flashed into her eyes a warm light that +enhanced her beauty. She put out a little brown hand and gripped his, +which was only too ready to be seized. + +“Parson—Mr. Hunt, you are a good man!” she said, chokingly. “I heard +about what you did last night. But I didn’t hear all about it; so I +didn’t know Dick was alive. I—I’m mighty wicked, I reckon. I ain’t glad +he didn’t die——” + +“No need to go into that,” urged Hunt quickly. “All such things are in +the hands of Providence. But your mind, I hope, Nell, is relieved.” + +Betty looked from the face of the girl on the pillow to her brother’s +glowing countenance. It was another shock for Betty Hunt, but she +understood. + + * * * * * + +The sudden, sharp blizzard that tore across the country blew itself out +by nightfall. In the morning the sun shone brilliantly, a warm wind +followed the gale, and the snow and ice melted like a September frost. +It had been only a foretaste of winter. + +The effect of the incidents of that day remained longer in the hearts of +some of the participators in the events than it did upon the earth or +the rivers, the rocks and gorges, the frosted herbage, or other physical +and material matters about Canyon Pass. To be in mutual peril, to suffer +alike the buffetings of the storm, had linked Betty Hunt and Nell +Blossom with a chain that could not lightly be severed. + +There was, too, a secret knowledge on the Eastern girl’s part that made +this chain stronger than Nell imagined. The latter had no suspicion that +Dick Beckworth—Dick the Devil—was a link in the chain that bound her to +the parson’s sister. There was as well another thing that made the +cabaret singer an object of Betty’s deeper interest. The latter had seen +in her brother’s face something which had vastly surprised her and +something which—had it been revealed to her before this time—would have +horrified Betty as well as startled her. + +The Reverend Willett Ford Hunt was plainly and frankly more concerned in +Nell Blossom than he had any right to be—unless he proposed to declare +himself the singer’s suitor. It was a somewhat shocking thought for +Betty—no two ways about it. She had scarcely ever considered her brother +in the light of a marrying man, and never here at Canyon Pass! For it to +have been suggested that Hunt would find an object of sentimental +interest in this Western mining camp would have completely confounded +Betty at an earlier date. + +And Nell Blossom? A singer in a rough amusement place that Betty would +consider herself smirched if she entered? Yet—and Betty was surprised to +consider it—she was much less amazed by her brother’s seeming choice +than she presumed she would be. Besides, there was a reason why Betty +Hunt felt that she might not criticise her brother’s course in this +affair. + +When Nell Blossom had recovered from the exposure sufficiently to go +home to Mother Tubbs, and that was not until late in the day following +the storm, Betty had gained from her brother all he knew and much that +he surmised regarding Nell’s association with the gambler who had +returned to the Grub Stake at so dramatic a moment. + +For his part, Hunt had not the first suspicion that Betty held any +personal interest in the man, Dick Beckworth. But he knew that his +sister suspected his love for Nell Blossom. + +Hunt braced himself for an argument, and a serious one. Betty veered +from Nell herself in a most surprising manner and seemed to feel +interest only in Dick the Devil. + +“He is scarcely a person in whom you would find any interest did you +meet him, Betty,” declared the parson. “Believe me, as Joe says, the +fellow is one of those fungi attached to society that would much better +be lopped off than allowed to develop and spread their vile spawn +about.” + +“Oh!” gasped Betty. “You mean it would have been better had you and—and +Mr. Hurley found the man’s remains where you found his horse? Oh, Ford!” + +“Somehow,” said the parson gravely, “I feel that way.” + +“Ford!” cried his sister vehemently. “This is an awful place! Let—let us +go back East.” + +The parson shook his head slowly. “No, Betty. You may go if you wish. I +do not blame you for wanting to give it up. There is no reason why you +should sacrifice yourself. But for me—Canyon Pass is mine. I will not +own to failure. Indeed, my work is not without promise. I am going to +reach the heart of Canyon Pass in some way, and I will keep on in the +quest as long as I am given strength.” + +It was Betty’s last outbreak against conditions. Nor did her brother +suspect for a moment the reason for the sudden renewal of her hatred of +the mining town. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI—THREATENING WEATHER + + +Joe Hurley had taken a new lease on cheerfulness; yet he scarcely could +have explained why his condition of mind had so suddenly improved. But +it was not difficult for him to put a digit upon that very moment of +time when this new feeling had dawned in his mind. + +It was when, with Hunt, he had plowed his way through the driving storm +to the nook under the sheltering cliff and had, seemingly, by instinct, +found Betty Hunt rather than Nell Blossom. + +Joe told himself that this very fact—that he had stumbled upon Betty +rather than Nell—was a miracle of love. + +All the time they were beating through the blizzard, crossing the icy +river and climbing the steep path, it seemed to Joe that Betty had been +calling to him. It had been the most natural thing in the world that at +the end of the fearful struggle he should find in his arms the girl whom +he loved and whose peril had caused him such anguish. + +And Betty did, quite of her own volition, enter that shelter. It was no +mistake, no chance happening. Betty did not think he was her brother. +“Oh, Joe! I was sure you would find us,” she had said. + +Joe did not overlook the confession Betty had made that there was a man +back East who must, in some way, hold her promise if not her affections. +But Joe hoped that by now Betty had taken time to compare that unknown +with himself; and that he, Joe, had a chance. He decided to await +Betty’s good pleasure. + +At least, Joe Hurley’s recklessness was submerged once more in those +better qualities that the Reverend Willett Ford Hunt warmly liked. Joe +was bound to be the parson’s chief assistant and backer in all his +efforts for the betterment of Canyon Pass. And Hunt faced now—he had +seen it coming of course—a situation that must practically make +effective or mar seriously all that he had striven for since he had come +West. + +This emergency came up for discussion that Saturday night in Bill +Judson’s Three Star Grocery. The interest of the more decent element of +the town’s population was centering in the church and in Parson Hunt’s +work. This was a rallying point for all progressive effort and +determination in Canyon Pass. + +In addition, the happenings of the past week seemed to have focused on +Hunt and the good work the eyes of all those Passonians who possessed +vision at all. The almost tragic brawl in Tolley’s Grub Stake had +aroused a great deal of warm discussion. What did Canyon Pass and Canyon +County have a sheriff for, if roughnecks were to go armed—and use those +arms—just as they had been wont to do in the old days? + +“Why, we’re plumb civilized now. We ain’t supposed to go around wearin’ +shootin’-irons and pluggin’ holes in store-fronts and citizens’ hats. If +a bunch of cow-punchers came riotin’ in yere and started to shoot up the +camp, Sheriff Blaney would show ’em what-for, blame sudden.” + +“Youbetcha!” agreed one of the storekeeper’s listeners. “That’s a true +word, Bill. If a man means to be peaceable, why go ironed at all?” + +“That’s just it,” complained the gangling Smithy. “There’s them that +ain’t for peace. That’s why the rest of us hafter go heeled.” + +Smithy had been waiting on customers with a gun belted to his waist ever +since the night he had lost two teeth and gained a black eye. Perhaps +the evidence of this gun so prominently displayed had saved the gangling +clerk from much hectoring comment that he might otherwise have suffered +from some of the patrons of the Three Star. + +However, Smithy basked in a certain heroic light. He had been the first +to resent Tolley’s scurrilous tale about Nell Blossom, and no matter +what Joe Hurley and the parson had done later, Smithy’s small share of +glory could not be ignored. On this very afternoon Nell herself had come +into the Three Star Grocery and thanked Smithy very sweetly for his +courageously expressed opinion on her behalf, the result of which had +rather marred what good looks Smithy had ever been able to lay claim to. + +“Layin’ off whatever that boy’s mother said about him when he was an +infant,” drawled Judson, “nobody ever could honestly say that Smithy +should take a medal for good looks. Now he looks plumb woeful! I come +pretty near bustin’ out crying when I look at him.” + +“Oh, it’s not as bad as all that, Bill Judson, and you know it,” Nell +declared. “Don’t you believe him, Smithy. I don’t think it hurts your +looks any.” + +“It couldn’t,” was Judson’s grim comment. + +But this missed Smithy. He fairly gasped with pleasure at Nell’s +statement. + +“Don’t you mind about it, Miss Nell,” he said. “I was goin’ to have them +teeth drawed, anyway. I’ll get gold ones. And I’d have ’em all knocked +out if ’twould do you a mite of good.” + +Now that the conclave between the serious-minded citizens had begun, +even Smithy was listened to with some respect. Besides, the gangling one +put forward an unmistakably pregnant fact. + +“If it wasn’t for Tolley and his gang, wouldn’t none of us hafter tote +guns,” Smithy observed. + +“Surest thing you know!” exclaimed Collins. “Run them out o’ town and +the decent men here wouldn’t hafter develop saddle-galls from wearing +ten pound or more of iron and lead belted around their waists. Yes, sir! +I’m in favor of reviving the old vigilance committee and running these +yere undesirable citizens out into the Topaz.” + +“What would become of them?” put in Hunt mildly. + +“Let ’em ‘root, hog, or die’!” muttered Judson. “Tolley, of course, has +got a stake yere. We can’t take a man’s property away from him. But +those hangers-on of his——” + +“It is a part of Tolley’s stake that is the immediate cause of this +discussion, gentlemen,” put in the parson again. “Tolley still owns the +place in which we hold our meetings, and Judson’s lease will soon run +out.” + +“Run Tolley out,” said Smithy, who had now enthusiastically taken sides +with the church people, “and you needn’t worry about that shack.” + +“Maybe he would sell,” Hurley suggested. + +“You try to buy it,” and Judson grinned. “His eye teeth has done been +cut a far time back. Tolley ain’t that kind of a fool. He is wise to the +idea that we’d like to buy that place. If you paved the shack floor with +gold eagles Tolley wouldn’t bite.” + +“He’d like to bust up the church and run the parson out, if you ask me,” +was the comment of another bystander. “And he’s got a sharp side-pardner +now, boys. I hear tell Dick the Devil is a-hintin’ that things will go +different in Canyon Pass, now that he’s come back.” + +“How’s that?” asked Hurley quickly, his eyes sparkling as they always +did when his temper was ruffled. “What’s Dick got to say about it?” + +“He don’t favor no parson. He says so.” + +“Looks to me,” drawled Judson, “that it’s comin’ close to a show-down. +Either we folks that want a church and decency has got to cave in, or we +got to fight.” + +“The right kind of fighting, I hope,” said Hunt quickly. “We must hold +our own without open quarreling.” + +“Well, it won’t be peaceful when we try to hold onto Tolley’s shack,” +growled Jib Collins. + +“Look yere,” queried a voice from the dark end of the store, “what have +you shorthorns been doin’ all this time you’ve had a parson? Why ain’t +ye built him a church?” + +“Another county heard from!” snapped Judson, as old Steve Siebert came +forward. “Easy enough to ask that.” + +“Why don’t ye answer it?” asked the old prospector. “I see you have got +yere in Canyon Pass a blame good parson. I never seen one I liked +better. I ain’t heard him preach, and I ain’t been to your meetin’s. But +any parson that can walk barehanded up to a gang like that Boss Tolley +and his whelps gets my vote, and he can have everything I’ve got when he +wants it for his church.” + +“Them that ain’t got nawthin’ can easy give it away,” muttered Judson. + +But it was another voice that ruffled the serenity of Steve Siebert. On +a box by the door the hooped figure of Andy McCann straightened up. + +“I reckon,” he sneered, “that that old gray-backed lizard has got him a +poke full o’ nuggets out in the Topaz, and he’s goin’ to hand it over +for to pay for a church edifice,” and his senile giggle was more +maddening than the laughter of the crowd. + +“I likely brought in full as much as yonder ground-owl ever scooped out +o’ the ground. But ye don’t answer my question, neither. Why ain’t you +fellers made some preparation for buildin’?” + +“Mr. Siebert,” said the parson soothingly, “the men and women interested +in our work have subscribed several hundred dollars toward a building +fund. But we are none of us prepared to finance such a work as yet. We +wish to put up a fairly good structure when we get at it. We cannot +freight in the frame and heavier timbers. They must be cut and sawn on +the spot. The expense of getting in a mill, aside from the labor, is +enormous.” + +“I reckon these hard-shells have tol’ you that because their pockets +squeal ev’ry time they put their hands in ’em,” growled Siebert. “I know +’em.” + +“Look here, old-timer,” said Joe Hurley, sharply, “we figure it will +cost close to ten thousand dollars to put up a church. What do you say +to that?” + +“Put your hand in your poke and hand over ten thousand in dust, you +miser’ble desert rat!” cackled Andy McCann. + +“And how much of it can you rake up, after prospectin’ this country for +nigh on to thutty years?” was Steve’s answer, glowering at his enemy. + +“Wal, dern your hide! there was a time when I might ha’ done my share of +it without weepin’ none,” muttered Andy. “And if it hadn’t been for +you——” + +“Is that so?” cried the other old man, his face ablaze with wrath. “And +how about me bein’ right in sight once’t of the most promisin’ lead that +ever was uncovered in Canyon County?” + +“If it hadn’t been for you,” rejoined Andy, “I would ha’ been rollin’ in +wealth. And you know it—dad burn your hide!” + +“Look here,” interjected Joe Hurley, interested rather than amused. “If +you both tell the truth, you must have together struck a rich streak. +Why didn’t you develop it? You were partners, weren’t you?” + +“Me, pardners with that yere!” croaked Steve. + +“D’ye think for one moment,” demanded Andy, “that I’d help make that +feller’s fortune? Not on your tintype!” + +Here Judson, with enormous disgust, broke into the discussion. “Dad burn +it!” he exclaimed, “this ain’t helpin’ none to build the parson a +church.” + +The others were laughing uproariously. Steve and Andy glared at each +other like two angry dogs with a strong fence between them. But slowly +their fierce expressions changed. Hunt, who was watching them with +something more than idle curiosity, saw that both old men began to look +slyly at each other as they calmed down. The others paid no further +attention to Steve and Andy, the flurry of their verbal battle being +over. But in the rheumy eyes of Andy there grew a light which seemed to +register some secret amusement, while Steve’s toothless grin displayed a +humorous appreciation of a phase of the argument that the bystanders in +general quite failed to catch. + +“Now,” thought the Reverend Willett Ford Hunt, “I wonder, to use one of +Joe’s favorite expressions, what those two old fellows have up their +sleeves. Perhaps the joke is on Canyon Pass, rather than on these two +queer old prospectors. I wonder!” + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII—SEVERAL CONCLUSIONS + + +Nell Blossom had not gone back to sing at Colorado Brown’s place. It was +some time before Hunt found this out, and he wondered why she had broken +her agreement with Colorado, for he knew she had entirely recovered from +the effects of her adventure in the storm. + +Had the parson asked his sister, Betty might have illuminated his mind +not a little regarding this and other mysteries about Nell; but he was +chary of ever speaking of the singer in other than a general way before +Betty. + +To tell the truth, he shrank from any argument regarding the Blossom of +Canyon Pass. He had learned just how sweet and innocent Nell Blossom +was. But he did not know how far Betty might approve of the younger +girl, especially if he showed any personal interest in the latter. + +He was firm in his conviction that Nell Blossom was a being set apart as +his mate from the beginning! Strange as it might seem at first view, +Hunt was positive that he and the half-tamed mining-camp girl held much +in common. He had found opportunity to talk with her of late—both at +Mother Tubbs’ and elsewhere—and he knew her tastes and aspirations far +better than before. She had confided to him, although with much +timidity, some of her girlish desires and her conclusions upon topics +which she had thought seriously about. + +She was, too, of the very stuff these Canyon Pass people were made—one +of themselves. If he got Nell Blossom for a wife she would be of greater +aid to him in his work here than any other one person possibly could be. +With Nell Blossom for his very own, the Reverend Willett Ford Hunt would +indeed have won the Heart of Canyon Pass. + +Hunt kept all this a secret and said little to Betty about the cabaret +singer. Nothing indeed that gave her a chance to tell him that her eyes +had seen already most of what he thought was hidden from her, and seen +it in a single glance. + +As her brother sat beside the bed the day of the ice-storm and held Nell +Blossom’s hand, Betty saw how it was with the Reverend Willett Ford +Hunt. The only matter that puzzled her at all was Nell’s possible +attitude. Unsophisticated as the mining-camp girl was, Betty could not +know for sure what Nell’s feeling for the parson was. + +But Betty might have given Hunt a pretty correct explanation of why Nell +did not go back to sing at Colorado Brown’s place. The girls were +together almost every day after their adventure in the storm. + +Betty did not go to Mother Tubbs’. She scarcely left the hotel at all in +the day time, though going out on the first Sunday following their +perilous adventure to attend church service. + +But Nell came to the Wild Rose, and the two girls grew to know each +other better than before. This because they both wished a closer +understanding. Nell had begun to admire something about Betty Hunt +besides her frocks and the way she manicured her nails. The parson’s +sister now desired to know Nell better for the parson’s sake. + +“I’m sick to death, Betty, singing for those roughnecks,” Nell had burst +forth on one occasion. “I used to think it was great to have ’em cheer +me and clap me off and have ’em throw money at me. But I’m plumb sick of +it.” + +“It’s a great gift to be able to move people with one’s voice so.” + +“It ain’t nothing of the kind!” Nell declared vehemently. “It’s because +they ain’t got no brains—at least, what they’ve got are addled with +hootch. I’ve only got just a nice, sweet, singing voice. Them fellers +are so plumb ignorant that they hoot and holler for me because I please +’em. I’d love to be really able to sing!” + +“I am not so sure that you cannot sing, as you mean it,” was Betty’s +sympathetic rejoinder. “Merely, you do not sing worth-while +songs—altogether.” + +“I’m mighty ashamed about singing that ‘This Is No Place for a +Minister’s Son,’” burst out Nell suddenly. + +“Why, I think it’s funny,” and Betty laughed. “I’ve often heard Ford +humming it.” + +“Oh! I—I sang it at him, Betty. I did!” + +“I am quite sure it never disturbed Ford in the least.” + +“Well, no, I reckon not. Nothing a girl like me done——” + +“Did!” + +“_Did_—could bother a man like Parson Hunt.” + +“I am not so sure of that,” Betty rejoined, eyeing the other girl +keenly. + +But Nell Blossom, if she had a secret, hid it successfully. Betty did +not miss the opportunity, however, of trying to help her friend. + +“Suppose you learn some better songs—some really worth-while pieces? I +brought my music with me, although I do not know if I shall ever touch a +piano again.” She sighed. “But I sometimes sit and hum over my +favorites. You read music of course, Nell?” + +“I don’t know a note—to speak the name of it, I mean,” confessed the +singer. “But I never saw the piece yet that I couldn’t pick up pretty +easy. Rosabell Pickett says I’m a natural sight-reader with a great ear +for harmony.” + +She accepted with gratitude the selections Betty made from her library. +Betty had chosen the songs with some little guile. That fact was proved +by what occurred later. + +“Anyway,” Nell concluded, “I ain’t going back to Colorado’s place for a +while. I got some money, and Sam’s bringing his pay home to Mother Tubbs +pretty reg’lar now. I can live for a while without singing for those +roughnecks, that’s a sure thing!” + +But Betty had her own grave thoughts—thoughts that kept her awake at +night. Hollow eyes and certain twitching lines about her sensitive mouth +were the result of these secret cogitations. Hunt noticed his sister’s +changed appearance but he misunderstood its source. He feared that Betty +found the life at Canyon Pass, with winter coming on, too hard to bear. +Yet he saw that she always cheered up when Joe Hurley ran in to see +them. + +The Eastern girl’s trouble did not arise from the locality in which she +was forced to live; it was the presence of one person in the town that +caused her such serious thoughts. The man who had passed Nell Blossom +and her in the storm, whose unexpected appearance had made Nell faint, +had shocked Betty much more deeply than he did the singer! + +Without that heavy mustache, with his waving hair cut more to conform to +Eastern ideas of propriety, the girl visualized the fellow as she had +once known Andy Wilkenson. He was the man, thought of whom had so +worried Betty’s mind for these long months since she had left +Grandhampton Hall. Andy Wilkenson! The man she had hoped never to see or +hear from again. Her worst fears on coming West were now realized. And +his reappearance here at Canyon Pass warned Betty that she could never +allow Joe Hurley to see just how much she had learned to care for him. + +She went to church on that next Sunday morning in fear and trembling. +She sat well forward as usual. But she knew when “Dick Beckworth” came +in and sat down in one of the rear seats. + +His coming here surprised them all. Heads were turned, and there was +whispering. Dick was dressed in the same flashy way, for he had left a +trunk at the Grub Stake when he went away in the spring. He sat during +the sermon with a sneer on his handsome face and the dancing light of +the demon flickering in his hard eyes. Hunt usually met strangers after +the meeting with a cordial handclasp. He did not approach Dick +Beckworth. + +Betty drew a veil across her face before she arose for the benediction. +She waited to return to the hotel with her brother. + +She was the only person in the assembly who was not amused by the +appearance of the two old prospectors, Siebert and McCann, at the +service. They did not come in together; and when Andy McCann entered to +see Steve seated at one side, he chose a seat just as far from the other +old-timer as he could and on the other side of the house. Their scowls +turned on each other were more significant than words. + +Hunt did not let Steve and Andy get away without a personal word with +them. + +“I am very glad to welcome you among us, Mr. McCann,” he said to that +individual when he shook the pocket-hunter’s wrinkled claw. + +“Wal, it’s all right, I reckon,” muttered Andy. “In a meetin’ you’ve got +to stand for most anybody droppin’ in. But that old rip,” nodding toward +the distant Steve, “would look a heap better ’cordin’ to my idee in jail +than at church.” + +“We must be charitable, Mr. McCann,” said the parson, moving toward the +other prospector. + +Old Steve was quite as bitter in his comment. But he added something, +too, that gave Hunt pause. + +“It seems a good deal like old times. I used to go to church reg’lar, +onc’t,” said Siebert. “But I miss something, parson—I sure do.” + +“What’s that?” asked Hunt smiling. + +“Let alone I never expected to see that old has-been at meetin’—an’ I +don’t reckon he’s come for any good—I see you don’t look jest like a +preacher ought to look. Say, don’t ministers dress different no more +from other folks? You might be a banker or a gambler as far as your coat +goes to show.” + +The blunt criticism shocked Hunt not a little. Up to this time he had +carefully eschewed clerical dress. He began to wonder if, after all, he +was not making a mistake. + +Dick Beckworth was not on the street when the parson and his sister went +back to the hotel. In fact Dick had slipped out very soon after the +meeting ceased and was then in conference with Boss Tolley in the little +office at the end of the long bar in the Grub Stake. + +“Well,” said Tolley, eagerly, “did you see her?” + +“Sure as sure.” + +“Is it her?” demanded the dive keeper, grinning like a wolf. + +“It sure is. It’s her that was Betty Hunt.” + +“Dad burn it! And she paradin’ ’round here like an unmarried woman. +Dick, we got that parson on the hip.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII—CATASTROPHE + + +No more snow or ice had followed that first sharp, furious blizzard; but +with the higher temperature had come heavy rainstorms which the natives +declared were quite unseasonable. The rivers were bank full. The lower +end of Main Street was washed by the water from both Forks. Several +families had been obliged to move into the higher part of the town. + +But the flood had not driven Mother Tubbs and her little family out of +their home. The wise old woman did not know just why Nell Blossom sang +no more at the dance hall; but in her mind she knew that “suthin’ was +workin’ on that gal.” Meanwhile she proceeded to “work on” Sam as usual. + +Rocking on her back porch with the vista of dreary yards under her eye, +but the rugged beauties of the Topaz Range in the distance, she +philosophized as usual on all things both spiritual and mundane. Sam was +pottering about a broken table that she had convinced him he must mend +before he left the premises for a stroll into the town, it being +Saturday afternoon. + +“I must say, too, that it seems as peaceful as Sunday back in +Missouri—or pretty near,” Mother Tubbs observed. “Things is changed yere +in Canyon Pass. Ye must admit it, Sam.” + +“Drat it!” snarled her husband, sucking a thumb he had just smashed with +his hammer. “I admit it all right. The Pass is gettin’ plumb wuthless to +live in. Psalm singin’, and preachin’, and singin’ meetings, and sech. +Huh! Parson wants me to come to Bible class.” + +After all he said it with some pride. Sam had, as he expressed it, “a +sneakin’ likin’” for the parson. But he was determined not to show that +this was so before Mother Tubbs. + +“Ain’t you glad to live less like a savage—more decent and civilized +like—than you useter, Sam Tubbs?” demanded the old woman. + +“I was satisfied as I was,” grunted her husband. “I ain’t one o’ them +that’s always wantin’ change and somethin’ new. If I had been, I’d +picked me a new woman before now.” + +“The pickin’ ain’t very good in Canyon Pass,” rejoined Mother Tubbs +complacently. “Them that’s got husbands don’t want to exchange. ’Twould +be like jumpin’ out of the skillet onto the coals. Them women that ain’t +got nary man are well content, I reckon, to get on without one if you, +Sam Tubbs, are the only hope they got.” + +“Huh!” + +Nell’s sweet, clear voice floated down from the upper chamber. In +accents that caressed, she sang an old song which she had found in Betty +Hunt’s music, arranged for solo use. + +“Hear that child, Sam!” whispered the old woman, wiping her eyes when +the pleading verse was finished. “Ain’t that heaven-born?” + +“Huh!” said Sam, but in truth a little doubtfully. “I never considered +our Nell as bein’ pertic’lar angelic. No ma’am! Not before.” + +“She’s as good as any angel,” declared Mother Tubbs with conviction. +“Only she’s flighty. Or useter be. And if she’d just go and sing them +songs at meetin’, Canyon Pass would learn for once just what good +singin’ is.” + +“I dunno but you’re right, old woman,” said Sam softly, as the voice +from above took up the song again. “I’ve heard Nell Blossom sing many a +time before; but it never so sort o’ caught in muh cogs as that song +does. But she can’t sing them kind o’ tunes in Colorado Brown’s or the +Grub Stake.” + +“Hush, Sam! Don’t mention it!” whispered his wife. “I hope to the Lord +she won’t never hafter work in them places again.” + +“Huh! How’s she going to live?” asked the startled Sam. + +“You leave it to Parson Hunt,” declared Mother Tubbs in the same +secretive way, “and Nell Blossom won’t never no more hafter sing for her +livin’.” + +Sam stared. His bald head flushed as his eyes began to twinkle and the +knowing grin wreathed his sunken lips. He suddenly burst into a cackle +of delight. + +“D’ye mean it? The parson? By mighty! So he’s willin’ to go the way of +all flesh, is he? Nell needn’t work no more for her livin’ if she don’t +want?” + +“You poor fool,” scornfully said his wife, holding up one of his +enormous blue yarn socks with a gaping hole in the heel, “if the parson +is as hard on his socks as you are, Sam Tubbs, Nell will have her work +cut out for her—sure as sure!” + +It was the very next night that Nell Blossom sang for the first time at +the Canyon Pass church service. She had been twice to morning service +before this, coming in alone, refusing to sit near Mother Tubbs or +Betty, and remaining silent even through the hymns. In truth, she had +never learned those hymns that chanced to be given out on those +occasions. Rosabell Pickett did yeoman’s service at the badly tuned +piano; but her own voice had the sweetness of a crow with the carrying +power of that same non-soothing bird. Rosabell kept the hymns going; but +sometimes Hunt could have wished for even Miss Pelter of the Ditson +Corners’ choir to carry the air! + +As has been said, the Sunday evening service at Tolley’s old shack was +not so formal as the morning session. Hunt tried in the evening to lead +the singing himself. He had managed through the summer to teach the +young folks several of the newer and more sprightly songs out of the +collection he had brought with him from the East. Some of the rougher +young men who filled the rear benches in the evening were glad to make a +noise with something besides their heavy boots, and they “went in” for +the singing with gusto. + +On this evening Nell came in with Mother Tubbs and Sam, but she sat down +on the front bench between Betty and Rosabell Pickett. She handed some +sheets of music to Rosabell, and Betty recognized them with a flush of +pleasure. It was plain that the accompanist had been prepared for Nell’s +new move. + +“Do you think Mr. Hunt would let me sing a song?” whispered Nell to +Betty. + +“Let you!” returned Betty eagerly. “He’ll love you for it.” + +Perhaps the emphatic statement was made by the parson’s sister without +thought of how it sounded. Nell’s flower-like face warmed to a flush +that spread from the collar of her blouse to the waving tendrils of hair +under her hat brim. She hid her face quickly from Betty. The latter, +perhaps somewhat wickedly, enjoyed the other girl’s confusion. Her heart +had suddenly expanded to Nell and her brother Ford. If she saw no +happiness ahead of her in life, Betty Hunt had begun to hope that the +Reverend Willett Ford Hunt and the Canyon Pass blossom would realize all +the happiness that a loving pair could compass. + +With a whisper and a head shake Betty informed the parson of what he +might expect from Nell at this meeting. Her presence had already filled +Hunt’s heart with singing. Now, before his talk to the congregation—it +was not a sermon—he smiled at Nell and sat down while she sang the song +she had prepared and that had so stirred the hearts of Mother Tubbs and +Sam the day before. + +Rosabell Pickett for once got the spirit of the composition. She played +the accompaniment softly, and she slurred over the sour notes of the old +piano. When Nell stood up a hush of expectancy fell upon the +congregation. Even the boot-scrapings from the back benches were +silenced. + +Never had Canyon Pass heard Nell Blossom sing so sweetly. The girl’s +tones fairly gripped the heart-strings of her hearers and wrung them. +The tears rolled down good old Mother Tubbs’ face. Sam sat beside her, +looking straight ahead more like a gargoyle than ever, afraid to wink +for fear the salt drops would carom from his bony cheeks. Steve Siebert +in his corner, and Andy McCann in his—as far apart as the width of the +room would allow—looked like their burros, carved out of desert rock. +Nothing seemed to move those old fellows. But the rest of the +congregation—even the roughnecks on the back seats—were subdued when the +song was done. + +After the service Hunt apprehended a new note in the manner and speech +of his flock. He scarcely realized that his own talk had been more +spiritual than usual because of the emotion roused within him by Nell’s +song. There was a hush over the room. The noisy fellows went out on +tiptoe. Voices were subdued. For almost the first time the atmosphere of +this rough room where they “held meetings” had become that of a real +house of worship. + +“Steve Siebert is right,” the parson told himself not without gravity. +“It is time that I should show my own respect beyond peradventure for +the religion I preach. Betty must shake the mothballs out of that coat.” + + * * * * * + +Lizard Dan tooled his six mules across the East Fork. The water was more +than waist deep, and the beasts swam for part of the way, and the inside +passengers sat on the small of their backs with their boots up on the +cross-straps. The driver urged the team with voice and whip up the muddy +rise to the Wild Rose. His desert-stained face was full of wrinkles of +excitement. Joe Hurley, who chanced to be lingering at the door of the +hotel, spied the emotion in the bus-driver’s countenance. + +“What’s got you, old-timer?” asked the mining man, strolling down to the +step below the driver. “Something on the road over from Crescent City +bite you?” + +“I got bit all right,” growled Lizard Dan. He stooped to put his tobacco +stained lips close to Joe’s ear. “The sheriff of Cactus County rode over +on the seat with me. Yeppy! And he dropped off back yonder to talk to +Sheriff Blaney.” + +“Something doing?” + +“Youbetcha! The Cactus County sheriff was tellin’ me. He’s been after a +guy that turned a trick last summer—fore part of the summer in fact—’way +out beyond Hoskins. He was some pretty shrewd short-card tin-horn, if +you ask me.” + +“A gambler? Anybody know him?” asked Joe quite idly. + +“I didn’t get his name. The sheriff was pumpin’ me a lot about who was +new—if any—in Canyon Pass. I told him,” and Dan grinned widely, “that +’bout the newest citizens we had yere was Parson Hunt and his sister.” + +“You’re some little josher, aren’t you, Dan?” said Joe, grimly. “What +had the feller done?” + +“The one the sheriff’s after? Cleaned out a sheep camp with marked cards +and then made his get-a-way under a gun. Cool as the devil! Shot one of +those sheepticks—I mean to say, a shepherd. Never did have much use for +sheep men——” + +“Me neither,” admitted Hurley. + +“But they are ha’f human—leastways, that’s how I look at ’em,” pursued +Lizard Dan. “They should have their chance. Marked cards and a gun is no +way to win their spondulicks. No, sir.” + +“What makes the Cactus County officer think the sharper came this way?” + +“Says he and a posse follered him to the Canyon County line, up yonder, +’long back in the summer. They figgered he’d gone Lamberton way, so they +swayed off and didn’t come yere. Now something new has come up about the +feller, I take it, and the Cactus County sheriff has come yere to get +Blaney to help comb this part of the territory. I told him we didn’t +have no loose gamblers yere. They all got jobs and have held ’em some +time.” + +“Tolley is always picking up new hombres,” said Hurley thoughtfully. “I +can’t keep run of all the scabby customers he brings in here.” + +“But not card-sharps,” said Lizard Dan, shaking his head. “He ain’t got +a new dealer in a dog’s age. You wouldn’t count Dick Beckworth one. It’s +just like he’s always been yere.” + +He waddled away with the mail sacks and his large-bore gun. Hurley found +himself suddenly startled by an entirely uncalled-for thought. Surely +nothing Lizard Dan had said should have inspired this: + +Dick Beckworth had been away from Canyon Pass from the early springtime +until recently. He had ridden in from the wilderness on the occasion of +the first blizzard. Where had the gambler been during the months he was +missed at the Grub Stake? + +Hurley was half tempted to go to the Grub Stake and make an inquiry or +two, but since that notable night when Steve Siebert had held up Tolley +and his gang, Joe had seldom been inside the place. He did, however, +wander along the now quiet street toward the honkytonk. + +It was drawing toward evening, and a drizzle of rain, which had +threatened all day, swept across the West Fork and muffled the town +almost instantly as in a gray blanket. The roar of Runaway River in the +canyon blew back into Joe’s ears and made him deaf to most other sounds. + +But as he crossed the mouth of the alley beside Tolley’s place he heard +a sharp “Hist!” He turned to look. A girl, wrapped in a fluttering +cloak, stood there, dimly revealed in the thicker darkness of the alley. + +“Well, what do you want?” demanded the mining man. + +“Mr. Hurley!” + +“Great saltpeter! what’s the matter, Rosy?” + +“Hush! Shet your yawp!” warned the piano player. “Want to get me into +trouble?” + +“Not a bit. What’s up?” + +“I don’t know. But it’s something—something bad.” + +“Bad? About whom?” + +“Parson Hunt and his sister Betty.” + +“Betty Hunt?” muttered the mining man with an emphasis that would have +told a woman of much less discernment than Rosabell Pickett all that was +necessary. + +“Yeppy. You like her, Joe Hurley. You want to look out for her. Somebody +has got to. That Dick Beckworth——” + +“Dick the Devil?” + +“You said it! He’s got something on her.” + +“He’s got something on Betty Hunt? Never!” + +“No use layin’ your hand on your gun butt. It needs something besides +that. When fire’s touched to the end of the fuse, no use tryin’ to stamp +on the ashes. It is burning toward the powder barrel. The thing’s +started. Dick’s told it about her——” + +“Told what?” asked Hurley, almost shaking the girl. + +“That she was married back East, long before she come out here, and is +posing here as an unmarried woman. He says he knows the man that was +married to her.” + +Hurley was stricken dumb for the moment. Yet recovery was swift. He +stammered: + +“She—she might. It’s no crime. She—she might have got a divorce and +taken her maiden name again, if it’s true. But I wouldn’t take Dick the +Devil’s word as to the color of the blue sky.” + +“He’s got a paper to prove it. I seen him show it to Boss Tolley. I run +to get you. I saw you at the Wild Rose. I figger you are the one to tell +the parson.” + +“And who’s to tell Betty?” Joe inquired. “I—I——” + +“Oh! What’s that?” exclaimed Rosabell, shrinking away. “I—I thought it +was thunder.” + +A muttering sound grew in Hurley’s hearing, but he paid little attention +to it at first. Was it this Betty had meant all the time, when she had +kept him at arm’s length? When she had told him that there was somebody +back East who, at least, had her promise? + +Then the air quaked as though there had been a volcanic upheaval within +the immediate district of Canyon Pass. Rosabell shrieked and ran back +into the gloom, disappearing toward the rear door of the Grub Stake. Joe +ran out into the street, seeing other men coming from the shops and +saloons. + +His gaze by chance was turned upon the wagon track down the slope beyond +the West Fork. He saw a flaming patch of white there. It came down the +wagon track with terrific speed. In a moment he realized that it was a +white pony and rider. + +Lashing the steed the rider forced it into the West Fork. The animal had +to swim for it. It seemed as though the stream had filled terrifically +within the last few minutes. + +Out of the flood scrambled the pony. It was not until then that anybody +recognized Nell Blossom and her cream-colored mount. She urged the horse +up into the town and they heard her clear voice rising above the sullen +thunder of the three rivers: + +“The Overhang! The Overhang! It’s down—it’s filled the canyon! Runaway +River is stoppered like with a cork in the neck of a bottle. The flood +is coming!” + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX—HIS LAST CARD + + +Hunt lingered in his sister’s room after Joe Hurley had left them. They +were talking when Maria came up to take away the tea things. The Mexican +woman was greatly excited. + +“Those bad men! She get it now—in the neck you say, si? My goodness, +yes! He no run you out of town lak’ he say, Señor Hunt.” + +“Who is this who wants to run me out?” asked Hunt good-naturedly. “I +must be getting awfully unpopular in some quarters.” + +“Those bad man at Tolley’s Grub Stake. Ah, yes, Señor! She hate you—my +goodness, yes!” + +Betty began to be troubled—as she always was when she heard her +brother’s peace threatened. + +“Have you heard something new, Maria?” she asked the woman. + +“Cholo, he hear. He come just now from the sheriff. A man come to town +and he say he want those bad man.” + +“What bad man? Not my brother?” cried Betty. + +“_Madre de Dios!_ Is the Señor Hunt bad?” gasped Maria. “Why, it is Dick +the Deevil I say.” + +“Ah-ha!” muttered Hunt, with more interest than surprise. He did not +look at Betty. “This man has something against Dick Beckworth?” + +“Cholo whisper to me, jus’ now, before I come up here, that the sheriff +weel arres’ Dick the Deevil. For robbery and swindle, you say. Si!” + +“This is news!” ejaculated Hunt, putting on his coat and hat. “I must go +down and get the particulars.” + +“Oh, Ford!” + +What Betty might have said—how much she might have betrayed of her +secret to her brother at that moment—will never be known. Before he +could turn to look at her anguished face the house shook, and an +atmospheric tremor seemed to pass over the town. An “airquake” was the +better term for it! And with it they heard a continuous thundering roar +that seemed to mingle with, yet almost drown, the chorus of the rivers +which had been a monotone in their ears all day. + +Maria screamed and flew out of the room. Hunt exclaimed: + +“Something’s blown up at one of the mines, perhaps. But Joe is all +right. He could not have got far away from the hotel.” + +It was not until he ran down and reached the street that he learned the +truth. Nell had pulled in her wet and exhausted pony before the hotel +and was surrounded by the excited populace. Joe was with her, and Hunt, +seeing both safe, was relieved. + +The parson listened to her story with amazement and some of the dread +that the older inhabitants of Canyon Pass felt. Something like this had +happened twenty years before. She had seen a great landslide—a large +part of the Overhang she thought—fall into the canyon. Already the +rivers were backing up. Filled as they were by the recent unseasonable +rains, the flood, if the canyon bed was really closed by the landslide, +would soon rise into the town. + +Hunt and Hurley joined a party that launched a big batteau to go down +the Runaway to the first turn in the canyon wall to see just what the +danger was. Most of the other inhabitants of Canyon Pass were crowding +into Main Street. It might be that all would have to get back to the +headlands where the mines were in order to escape the flood. + +Betty, alone in her room in the hotel, saw the people milling about +below and could only guess what it meant. She did not dare go down to +ask about the catastrophe, and Maria did not return. But as she sat +there, trembling not altogether from fear of what might happen to the +town, she saw the knob of her door turn slowly. There was somebody in +the hall—somebody coming in! + +In her terror—terror of she knew not what—the girl could not move. She +could only watch the frail door sag slowly open. She saw a hand with a +sparkling diamond upon it. But it was a man’s hand. A shoulder appeared +as the door was thrust farther inward. + +Then she saw the face of the intruder. + +“Andy Wilkenson!” + +Betty did not know that her voice was audible. But as the man slid in +with the sleekness of a cat and closed the door behind him, he +whispered: + +“So you know me all right, do you? Then that makes it easier. You’ve got +to hide me, Betty. They are after me. I got out of the Grub Stake +through a window—just in time.” + +He laughed. There was a reckless gayety in his manner that was forced; +but it seemed to Betty more terrible than if he had shown fear. + +“You wouldn’t want them to get your husband, would you, honey?” he went +on, his back against the door, his eyes glittering. “And there’s going +to be high water. I can’t get away at once. I’ve got to hide. You’ll +have to keep me here.” He chuckled. “A girl wouldn’t give her hubby up +to the sheriff, would she? I——” + +“Go away!” she gasped. + +“Not a chance!” exclaimed Dick lightly. “That sheriff will comb the +town. But he will never come into your bedroom, honey. And I’m going to +stay here till the flurry is over.” + +He took a step into the room. Betty shrank from him. Her eyes were now +aflame—and there was something besides fear in them. + +“I will give you time to get out, Andy Wilkenson,” she said hoarsely. +“But no more. All I have to do is to raise this window and scream——” + +“Dare to!” he snapped. “I’ll stay right here. You’re my wife——” + +“Nobody will believe that if I deny it!” she exclaimed. + +“So you think I can’t prove it?” He laughed again. “I know that you +would deny it if you could. I know that you even tore up the marriage +certificate that old minister gave you. But I went back to him and got a +copy. And I have got a copy of the license record, and all. Think I’m a +fool? You may have fooled me about your aunt’s money; but one never +knows when such a moment as this may come. If you give me up to the +sheriff, I’ll tell ’em all just who and what you are. Mrs. Andy +Wilkenson! Sounds good, don’t it? And ‘Andy Wilkenson’ is Dick +Beckworth. Being married under an assumed name don’t make the tie any +less binding, Betty. You are married to me hard and fast, and I’m going +to turn the fact to good account. Don’t doubt it!” + +“I—I’ll call my brother,” said Betty weakly. + +“I bet he doesn’t know, either. Nor that Joe Hurley you’ve been chumming +around with,” and Dick chuckled hugely. “Oh, I’ve got you, my girl. You +had the chance to call me, and call me good, that time. But it’s my turn +now. You are going to hide me here, and then help me get away. I know +your breed. You’d die rather than let the story of our marriage get to +the people of Canyon Pass.” + +The girl sat huddled in the chair by the window. She stared at him with +an intensity of horror that seemed to have paralyzed her whole body. And +what he said—his final declaration—she knew was true. + +She would much rather die than have it revealed to all Canyon Pass that +Dick the Devil was the discarded husband of the Reverend Willett Ford +Hunt’s sister! + +The smile with which Dick watched the agonized girl marked the cruelty +that was the underlying trait of his whole character. He knew she +suffered. He knew how she suffered now. And he exulted in it. + +But he was, too, fearful for his own safety. The crime he had committed +miles away across the sheep range, and which had set the sheriff on his +track, was a most despicable one. It was, too, in this community a crime +that might easily excite the passions of the rougher element. Men had +been lynched for much less than Dick Beckworth’s crime! + +With night coming on, the waters about the town rising, and no means for +quick egress before morning at least, Dick the Devil realized that his +only hope lay with this tortured girl. Aside from the satisfaction it +gave him to make her shield him, he was quite aware that no better place +than Betty Hunt’s room could be imagined in which he might hide from the +officers. + +“There’s a closet,” he said finally, seeing the small door in the +partition. “Put me in that. You can let your brother in if you like—or +Joe Hurley.” He sneered at her. “They’ll never believe the proper Betty +Hunt has a man hidden in her room. What’s that?” + +He hissed the question, grabbing the handle of the closet door, and +looked back at the one opening from the hall. There was a light step +outside; the door-knob rattled. + +“Quick!” breathed Dick. “Don’t say a word——” + +He tried to open the closet door. Although it was a spring latch, it was +likewise locked. All Betty’s little valuables were in the closet, and +she had the key. + +“The key!” shrilled the man. “You fool! Do you want me to give the thing +away? As sure as you are alive I’ll tell them you’re my wife. Quick!” + +Betty did not move. She shook her head. The door-knob was again rattled. +A muffled voice cried: + +“Betty!” + +The knob turned—as it had before, slowly, hesitatingly. The door was +pushed inward. Dick the Devil snatched a pistol from its sling under his +left armpit, with the motion of a rattlesnake about to strike. + +Nell Blossom stepped into the room and closed the door swiftly behind +her. She had seen Betty. Her cry of “Betty! what’s happened?” was +answered by a sigh from Dick of such relief that it seemed like a sob. + +Alert as she could be, Nell wheeled to look at the man. Although there +was no light in the room and the evening was drawing on, the singer knew +that half-crouching figure at first glance. She saw, too, the flash of +the weapon in the gambler’s hand. + +“Dick Beckworth! I might have known you’d come sneaking to a girl’s room +to hide,” said Nell, her voice quite unshaken. “Put away that gun. I’m +not the sheriff.” + +Dick was silent. But he had the grace to put away his gun. Nell said to +Betty: + +“Has he scared you, honey? Don’t you mind. Dick the Devil has got his +comeupance this time, I reckon. The minute he steps out of this house +they’ll nab him. Somebody saw him sneak in by the back way. But nobody +thought of his daring to come into your room. Come on, you, get out! +Take your miserable carcass off to some other part of the house.” + +“Oh, Nell!” breathed Betty. + +“Don’t you be afraid, honey,” said the cabaret singer again. “This +rascal knows me, I reckon. It’s too bad he wasn’t killed—like I thought +he was—back last spring when I was fool enough to be caught by his sleek +ways and talk. Oh, yes! I played the fool. And I come pretty near +believing since that time that there wasn’t any decent men in the world. +All because of that whelp.” + +For once Dick Beckworth had nothing to say. At another time he might +have flouted the girl. But the moment was not propitious. He stood and +glared from Nell to Betty, and back again; but said nothing. + +“Come! Beat it!” said Nell harshly. “Don’t you hear me?” + +“I am going to remain here,” Dick said in a low voice. “Right here.” + +“Not much!” Nell wheeled to open the door. “I’ll call ’em up. They are +watching for you below.” + +“Nell!” gasped Betty. + +“You better speak for me,” sneered Dick. “I don’t reckon that you two +girls will turn me over to the sheriff. Don’t forget, Nellie, that once +I was your honey-boy.” + +The mining-camp girl’s whole person seemed to fire under this spur. Her +face blazed. She was tense with wrath—wrath that she could not for the +moment audibly express. + +But when she did speak her voice was as hard as ice and her accents as +cold: + +“Dick Beckworth, you get out of here! March!” + +“Not much.” + +Nell had been riding. She never went abroad on horseback without wearing +her belt and gun. The latter flashed into her hand too quickly for Dick +to have again produced his weapon, had he so desired. + +“Put ’em up!” was Nell’s concise command. “Don’t flutter a finger wrong. +I been thinking for months that I saw you go over that cliff to your +death. Maybe I worried some over being the possible cause of your taking +that drop. But I feel a whole lot different about you now, Dick +Beckworth. Keep your hands up and march out of this room.” + +The man, sneering, his countenance torn with emotion, his eyes as +glittering as those of an angered serpent, came forward into the middle +of the room again. He was staring at Betty rather than at Nell. He said +to the former: + +“You going to let me go out, Betty?” + +“Oh! Oh! I——” + +“Don’t mind even to answer him—the dog!” Nell muttered. “I swear, after +this, I would not lift a hand to stop the boys from stringing him up.” + +“Is that so?” queried Dick, turning to her again. “You think you’ve got +things your own way, don’t you? I’ll show you. Betty! tell this girl +what and who I am and why I am not going to leave this room. Tell her, +my dear, why you can’t bear to see me given up to the sheriff.” + +“You dog!” ejaculated Nell. + +“Tell her, Betty,” commanded Dick, but without raising his voice. + +The parson’s sister, fairly writhing in her chair, put up her clasped +hands to Nell. She whispered brokenly: + +“Don’t—don’t send him out. Don’t tell, Nell. I—I couldn’t bear it!” + +“In the name of common sense,” queried the singer, “what do you mean? +This fellow’s frightened you out of your wits.” + +“No, no! For my sake——” + +“You’re crazy. He can’t hurt you. I have him under my gun. If he makes a +move——” + +“Betty!” shot in Dick. + +“For Ford’s sake let him stay!” begged Betty, and sank back in her chair +again, almost at the point of collapse. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX—CLEARING SKIES + + +Betty Hunt had, after all, retained her self-possession in a +considerable degree throughout this trying interview. Dick Beckworth’s +appearance had startled her; but already she had schooled her mind to +expecting an interview with him. + +Really, the coming of Nell Blossom and what had followed her entrance +had disturbed Betty more than Dick’s appearance. But now she had got a +clutch again upon her mental processes and at this moment, when Dick was +about to reveal to the cabaret singer the fact that Betty was his wife, +the Eastern girl apprehended and seized upon the plea she believed +would, more than any other, cause Nell to let the villain remain without +question. + +For, with the hotel surrounded and the officers searching for Dick, it +was probable that the moment he stepped out of the room he would be +caught. So Betty cried: + +“For Ford’s sake let him stay!” + +It was, after all, a shot in the dark. Betty had not been sure up to +this moment that Nell really felt toward the parson as his sister knew +Hunt felt toward Nell. But she was in a desperate plight. Betty could +not bear to have even her girl friend know of her relation to Dick +Beckworth, not as Dick would tell it! And if the villain spread the tale +as he promised, Betty knew that her brother’s work might be greatly +injured even in such a community as Canyon Pass. + +For after all, although the mining town was not like Ditson Corners, +human nature is about the same everywhere. Betty had done nothing +disgraceful in marrying Dick Beckworth and leaving him so abruptly. But +for hiding the unfortunate alliance and posing here as an unmarried +girl, the tongue of gossip would undoubtedly drag both her own name and +Ford’s through the mire of half-truths and suppositions. + +If Nell loved Ford and thought that Dick might reveal something that +would injure the parson, Betty hoped the singer would relent. Afterward +she could in her own way explain to Nell. + +The latter stared now at Betty; but Dick was quite in the line of her +gun and her hand did not tremble. + +“You—you mean he’s got something on the parson?” she asked. + +Dick grinned. Betty tried to speak. Before another word could be said, +however, there was a sudden outbreak of sound from below and loud voices +on the stair. + +“Betty!” shouted Joe Hurley’s voice. + +“Is Nell Blossom there?” called Hunt. + +Both young men were tramping up to this very room. They would be here in +thirty seconds. + +Betty came to her feet as though galvanized by an electric shock. She +fumbled in her bosom and drew forth the key of the closet door. She +extended it to Dick. + +“Let him—let him hide!” she gasped. + +Nell lowered her gun. Dick grabbed the key, the grin on his face +demoniac, and leaped across the floor on the balls of his feet. In a +flash he had the door open, was inside, the door closed and the spring +lock snapped. Nell thrust the gun back into its holster. Came a +thunderous knock upon the door. + +“Girls!” shouted Hunt, “may we come in?” + +Betty and Nell looked at each other. The latter sat down on the bed. +Betty dropped back into her chair. + +“Of course you may come in, Ford,” she said in a voice that, if not +unshaken, seemed calm to the ears of the men. + +Hunt and Hurley, both splashed with mud, appeared at the open door. + +“Pack a bag, Betty,” said her brother. “The water is backing up into the +town, and although we don’t believe it will rise high, it may come in +over the lower floor. It won’t be pleasant here to-night. Joe suggests +that we take you both up to his office at the Great Hope. That can be +made comfortable for you until we see just how bad a time Canyon Pass is +in for.” + +“If you say so,” said Betty in a low voice. “Will you go, Nell?” + +“Sure,” declared the other girl. + +She thought that probably anything was better for Betty than to remain +here. In ten minutes they set forth, hurrying down and out of the hotel. +Sheriff Blaney, and a red-faced man whom Betty remembered having seen +before on the Hoskins trail hunting a fugitive, was on the porch. + +“Derned funny where that Dick Beckworth has holed up,” Blaney was +saying. “But he can’t get out of town to-night, that’s sure.” + +That was a night scarcely to be forgotten in the annals of Canyon Pass. +The people streamed up the muddy roads on to the highlands all night +long while the waters rose higher and higher. They could hear toward +morning the crashing of undermined buildings, but not until dawn did the +fugitives learn all the damage of the flood. + +Then, just before sunrise, there sounded several tremendous explosions +from below, in the canyon. Joe Hurley and a gang of engineers had been +down there all night, and the several charges of dynamite they put in at +the barrier across the river brought the relief that had been hoped. In +an hour a way was burst through the wall of fallen débris and the mad +waters tore a passage to freedom. + +The flood began to recede, and by the time the expedition got back from +the canyon in the batteau, the mud hole of Main Street could be seen +again from the site of the Great Hope. Joe Hurley looked grave, however, +when he rejoined his friends in the little shack of an office. + +“It’s done a sight of damage,” the mining man said. “A lot of folks will +have to double up till new shacks can be built. The church—Tolley’s old +place—is standing, Willie.” + +“I see it is,” returned the parson. “But I miss some buildings——” + +“You miss one in particular,” said his friend quickly. “I don’t know but +you and Betty are chief among the flood sufferers.” + +“What do you mean, Joe?” Betty asked quickly. + +“The hotel. It was undermined and is in ruins; looks like it had been +rammed. Oh!” as he saw Betty pale, “nobody was hurt. Cholo Sam and Maria +are safe. Fact is, not a life lost as far as we know. It might have been +a whole lot worse. We had great luck.” + +“Great luck!” murmured Betty, looking at Nell, whose face likewise +showed a strange anxiety. + +“Talking about luck,” added Hurley suddenly. “What do you know about old +Steve and Andy? They’ve been out all night.” + +“What do you mean?” asked Hunt. “They haven’t gone back to the desert?” + +“Not on your life. They’ve been prospecting where they prospected twenty +years ago. Or that’s what I figger. Just at dawn, after we let off those +shots that started the dam-busting, I spied ’em prowling around up there +on the side of the canyon. Reckless as kids, those old tykes are. Might +another slip come ’most any time.” + +“Oh!” said Betty, “I hope you did not leave them in danger, Joe.” + +“If they were, I couldn’t help ’em,” Hurley replied. “You can’t +influence those old desert rats any more than you could lead an iron +horse to drink. No, sir! Steve and Andy were up there on a shelf that +was uncovered by the last slip, a-holding hands and ghost-dancing like a +couple of Piute Injuns. Acted plumb crazy. + +“They must have swum the West Fork to get there. And I bet they didn’t +go together. But when they got up there and saw the way open——” + +“To what?” interrupted Nell. “You haven’t told us what they found.” + +“That’s so,” chuckled Joe. “They’ve found something all right. I reckon +Steve and Andy can’t be fooled when it comes to ‘color.’ They certainly +have made a ten-strike. Steve shouted down to me that the slip had +uncovered the mother lode. Of course, they are claiming everything in +sight. Got their claims staked out, and if it’s really a sure-enough +find I expect there will be a small stampede to that side of the canyon. +There’s gold all through those cliffs. This is a gold country. Some day +they’ll find out how to work the Topaz Desert as a paying proposition. +The wash from these headlands and the canyon sides has been carried out +into the desert by the Runaway for a couple of million years—more or +less.” + +“Anyway,” said Nell, her eyes sparkling, “the old-timers are going to be +rich at last? How fine!” + +“It may only be a pocket—or a broken lead. But I wish ’em both +millionaires. Me, I’ll stick to the Great Hope a while longer.” He +looked at Betty. “I am a great feller for sticking to a thing.” + +Betty blushed and looked away. Hunt said thoughtfully: + +“If the slide has only caused Siebert and McCann to be friends again, it +has brought about something good—something very good indeed.” + +“Well, you talk to Judson about that. His stock is pretty near ruined. +And see Tolley. He’s almost weeping. And Colorado Brown. To say nothing +of Cholo Sam, who has lost his hotel.” + +The girls again looked at each other. There was the same thought in +their minds. What had become of Dick Beckworth if the hotel had +collapsed? Of course there had been plenty of time for him to have +escaped from the building before it went down. None of the structures +had fallen much before daybreak. Yet thought of him continued to trouble +the girls. + +Joe Hurley got Betty off to one side. There was no work being done at +any of the mines, so the owner of the Great Hope had nothing to do at +this hour. Having been at work all night it might be supposed that he +would need sleep; but when he looked on Betty Hunt his gaze was anything +but somnolent. + +“There’s a whole lot been happening in a few short hours, Betty,” he +said to the parson’s sister. “It come on us so quick and it happened so +fast that it put out of my head for the time being something I had to +say to you.” + +“Something—Nothing you shouldn’t say, Joe?” she stammered, looking at +him with pleading eyes. + +“I get you, Betty,” said the mining man. “I get you—sure. You are +warning me off the grass. I don’t blame you. You think I am kind of +dense, I expect——” + +“Oh, never that, Joe,” she murmured. “You are kind and thoughtful only.” + +“I hope you will believe so,” said Joe bluntly, “when I tell you I know +what your trouble is—and I know there ain’t no chance for me now. But I +am going to be your friend just as you said I could.” + +“Oh! Joe, do you know?” + +“I got wind of a story Dick Beckworth’s been telling—about your being +already married. It’s so, isn’t it?” + +Betty, her face working pitifully, nodded. + +“All right. We won’t say no more about it. He’s a low dog for telling +about it. I don’t want to know no more—not even who the feller is who +married you. But you can bank on me, Betty, every time! I’m your +friend.” + +“I know you are, Joe,” she whispered, and the look she gave him paid Joe +Hurley for a good deal. + +But he was by no means satisfied to consider that Betty Hunt’s marriage +closed the door of paradise in his face. He was just as determined to +get her as ever he had been. He had learned the great thing that he had +desired to know. Betty loved him. He had seen it in her look! He could +wait, and be patient, and let things take their course. She could be +wedded to another man as hard and fast as all the laws could make it. +But Joe Hurley felt a glory in his soul that expanded from the +heaven-born belief that time would change all that! + +They started down into the town, the girls shod with rubber boots that +Joe supplied. The people of Canyon Pass were running about like muddy +ants seeking their flooded hills. Mother Tubbs and Sam were high and dry +in the loft of the stamp mill. The old woman had made Sam lug up there +her one good feather-bed—and it was dry. But as she said, she expected +to find all her other possessions “as wet as a frog’s hind leg.” + +Bill Judson lounged in the doorway of the Three Star and hailed them +with some cheerfulness. + +“There’s one sure thing, Parson Hunt,” he said. “What I got in cans +ain’t water-soaked—much. And the cat and six kittens ain’t drowned. I +expect I can keep shop with what I got left for a while. But Smithy’s +lost all his clo’es that’s fit to wear, dad burn it! I can’t have him +waitin’ on lady customers in a gunny-sack and a pair of ridin’ boots.” + +A little group surrounded Sheriff Blaney on the street as the quartette +strolled along. Joe was interested. + +“Find him, Blaney?” he asked the officer. + +“Not any. And it beats my time. I don’t see where that Dick Beckworth +could have holed up. He sure didn’t get out of town, for the Forks are +both plumb impassable for man or beast.” + +The two girls exchanged glances again. What had happened to Dick +Beckworth? Surely he must have got out of the closet—out of the hotel—— + +Suddenly Betty seized Nell’s arm with an hysterical grip. + +“Nell! Nell!” she whispered. + +“Don’t give way. Of course he’s all right—though he ought not to be!” + +“That closet door! It shut with a spring lock. It could not be opened +from inside!” + +“Oh, he could smash down the door.” + +The two young men did not notice the girls’ perturbation. They were +striding ahead. A crowd was running toward the fallen hotel. Something +of moment was happening there. But before they reached the place Cholo +Sam saw them, and started toward the parson and Joe. + +“Señor Hunt! Señor Joe! Keep the señoritas back. It is not for them to +see.” + +“What’s the matter, Sam?” asked Hurley. + +“That Dick the Deevil! He ees found—my goodness, yes! They haf just +pulled him out of the ruins of my Wild Rose—drowned like one rat!” + + * * * * * + +Fortunately for Canyon Pass and its flood-harassed inhabitants, frost +and snow held off that winter until remarkably late. The mild season +gave ample opportunity for new homes to be built and for the necessary +repairs to be made upon the structures that had withstood the rising +waters. + +The supply wagons brought in quantities of necessary goods from Crescent +City and the railroads. The mines and washings shut down while all +turned to the work of rebuilding. Tolley’s Grub Stake and Colorado +Brown’s place, both swept by the water, were the last buildings to be +remodeled. The gamblers and dance-hall girls and other employees of +those places left town, for it promised to be a lean winter for their +ilk at Canyon Pass. + +In fact, Boss Tolley sold out and got out himself among the very first +to desert the town. His departure and the sale of all his property +opened the way for Parson Hunt’s supporters to buy from the purchaser of +Tolley’s property the building which had been used for church services +and the lot on which it stood. + +They could not begin the building of a proper church until spring, of +course; but the money was pledged for an edifice that would cost all Joe +Hurley had planned. + +Hurley himself was able to subscribe a much larger sum than at first, +for the Great Hope had proved to be as valuable a mine as he had told +Betty and the parson he believed it would. But it was from another +source that the church building fund gained its largest contribution. + +Old Steve Siebert and Andy McCann had “struck it rich.” The romance of +the uncovering of a rich vein of gold in the west wall of the canyon is +told to-day to every tourist who comes to Canyon Pass. + +How, at a time in the camp’s early history, two partners who had +prospected the Topaz Range and the desert adjoining fruitlessly for +years had found traces of gold high up on the canyon wall behind a +sheltering ledge and had “locked horns” in their first quarrel over how +the lode was to be got at. + +At the height of their argument a landslip had buried the hollow where +the rich find was located and, rather than that either should profit by +the joint find, the two old fellows had never tried to open the claim +until nature, by another freak, uncovered it for them. + +“I says to Andy, and Andy says to me,” Steve Siebert was wont to recall, +“when we seen how rich that lode was, a part of our profits oughter go +to the parson and his church.” + +“You’re mighty right we did,” agreed Andy. Agreeing was now Andy’s +strongest trait. “We-all got to pull together in this world. And if +we-all pull together yere in Canyon Pass we can have as good a church as +any camp needs. We sure got the best parson.” + +“You’re right, Andy,” Steve said. “I certainly do despise folks that are +always fighting each other and pullin’ contrary. No sense in it—no sense +a-tall.” + +In fact the two old fellows became joint treasurers of the church +building fund. They took it upon themselves, too, to pass the +contribution plates at service. The only friction Andy McCann and Steve +Siebert were ever known to display thereafter was a mild rivalry as to +the amount of money collected from the congregation seated on their +particular sides of the house. It was suspected that each swelled his +collection considerably on Sunday mornings so that his half of the house +would make the best showing when the offering was counted! + +“Dad burn it!” muttered Bill Judson, “let ’em alone. That’s a mild +matter for disagreement. They ain’t likely to pull no guns on each other +over that.” + +Indeed Canyon Pass was on its good behavior that winter. The exigencies +of the flood which had driven out a good deal of the worst element of +the town gave the better people a chance to take hold of its government +with a firmer hand—and a hand that Hunt and his associates were +determined should not again lose its grip. Even Slickpenny Norris in +time came to see that religious progress was not actually synonymous +with bankruptcy. + +To the parson’s standard flocked many of those who had before been but +lukewarm. Not least of his new helpers was the erstwhile cabaret singer. +Nell Blossom proved her value in the work to be quite all that Hunt had +hoped. + +This busy time, when Joe Hurley and Betty really were so wrapped up in +each other that they could scarcely be expected to be of value to +anybody but themselves, the parson found in Nell Blossom a willing and +efficient aid. They were both earnest in the cause, and so earnest that +it seemed they had little thought for extraneous matters. Yet on one +occasion when they were looking over the blueprints of the proposed +church edifice, Nell slipped an extra sheet of plans into sight from +beneath those of the church. + +“Why, what is this, Ford?” she asked. + +“Oh, yes! I wanted to show you that, Nell. And get your approval.” + +“My approval?” + +“Er—yes. You see, I’ve bought the lot right next to the church site. +Now, this cottage—er—— Here! Let me show you. We can have the mill work +for it shipped in with the church stuff. The same gang that builds the +church can run the house up. There’s the front elevation. Say, Nell, how +do you like it?” + +“Why, it’s lovely!” she cried. + +“Do you think it’s nice enough for a parson’s wife to live in?” + +“Ford! Mr. Hunt! I——” + +“Better let the ‘Mr. Hunt’ stuff slide, Nell Blossom,” he said, getting +hold of her hand. “Even a minister’s wife is supposed to call her +husband by his first name—at least, in private.” + +“Oh, Ford!” + +“That’s better.” + +“But—but I am not fit to be a parson’s wife, Ford,” she cried, +trembling. + +“Do you know, sometimes I’ve half believed I wasn’t fit to be a parson? +But it’s my job and I’m going to do the best I can with it. And—I need +your help, Nell Blossom.” + +“I came out here to try to win the heart of Canyon Pass. I found +it—almost as soon as I arrived. But I thought for a long time that it +never would be mine. I am bold enough now, Nell, to believe that I may +win it.” + +He smiled at her with such affection in his gaze, such a warmth of +comprehension as well as desire, that Nell Blossom, tearful, trembling, +half fearful, swayed toward him and felt again his strong arms about +her. + +“If—if I can only be worthy of you, Ford. If I don’t disgrace you,” she +sobbed. “Just think! A singer all my life in those ugly cabarets——” + +“Ah, yes,” said the Reverend Willett Ford Hunt quietly. “And only for a +difference in environment I might have been a part of the most reckless +audience you ever had to sing to. We will let the past bury the past, +Nell. We have only to deal with the future.” + +And he held her to him close. + + THE END + + + + +Popular Copyright Novels + +AT MODERATE PRICES + +Ask Your Dealer for a Complete List of +A. L. Burt Company’s Popular Copyright Fiction + + Adventures of Jimmie Dale, The. By Frank L. Packard. + Adventures of Sherlock Holmes. By A. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/36953-0.zip b/36953-0.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..5e76f7a --- /dev/null +++ b/36953-0.zip diff --git a/36953-8.txt b/36953-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f2aa2d0 --- /dev/null +++ b/36953-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8957 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Heart of Canyon Pass, by Thomas K. Holmes + +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 Heart of Canyon Pass + +Author: Thomas K. Holmes + +Release Date: August 3, 2011 [EBook #36953] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HEART OF CANYON PASS *** + + + + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + +[Illustration: Hunt's arms were around the girl and he held her fast.] + + + + + THE HEART OF + CANYON PASS + + By THOMAS K. HOLMES + + Author of + _"The Man From Tall Timber" etc._ + + A. L. BURT COMPANY + Publishers New York + + Published by arrangement with George Sully & Company + Printed in U. S. A. + + + + + Copyrighted, 1921 (as a serial). + + Copyright, 1921, by + GEORGE SULLY & COMPANY + + _All rights reserved_ + _Printed in U. S. A._ + + + + + CONTENTS + + CHAPTER PAGE + I. Discontent at Canyon Pass 1 + II. Discontent at Ditson Corners 18 + III. A Shadow Thrown Before 30 + IV. Philosophy Bound in Homespun 38 + V. How the Passonians Took It 46 + VI. The Approach 58 + VII. The First Trick 69 + VIII. A Flower in the Mire 78 + IX. A Beginning 91 + X. Mutterings of a Storm 99 + XI. The Storm About To Burst 111 + XII. Tolley's Tale 122 + XIII. Plans Are Made 130 + XIV. The Great Day Arrives 141 + XV. Pep and a Little Pepper 152 + XVI. Love and Longing 161 + XVII. A Battle in a Girl's Heart 169 + XVIII. The Shadow on Betty's Path 177 + XIX. A Good Deal of a Man 189 + XX. Murder Will Out 197 + XXI. The Drama of a Lie 211 + XXII. A Face in the Storm 219 + XXIII. A Great Light Dawns 229 + XXIV. The Barrier Down--for a Moment 237 + XXV. Understanding 246 + XXVI. Threatening Weather 256 + XXVII. Several Conclusions 265 + XXVIII. Catastrophe 273 + XXIX. His Last Card 286 + XXX. Clearing Skies 297 + + + + +THE HEART OF CANYON PASS + + + + +CHAPTER I--DISCONTENT AT CANYON PASS + + +The bluebird was no harbinger of spring at Canyon Pass. Most of the +inhabitants had never seen that feathered songster and many had never +heard of it. Incidentally these same Passonians would not have known a +harbinger in any case, presuming possibly that it was one of those +new-fangled nipples for the hydraulic pipes at the Eureka Washings, or +something fancy that Bill Judson was selling in cans at the Three Star +Grocery. + +But spring had unmistakably arrived at Canyon Pass when those two +irrepressible pocket-hunters, Steve Siebert and Andy McCann, got +together their frayed and rusty outfits, exchanged the hard-earned money +each had toiled for during the winter over the counter of the Three Star +for supplies and loaded each his burro till the sad-eyed little brutes +almost buckled under the weight of flour, beans, salt pork, coffee, and +prospectors' tools. + +Each ancient then mounted his moth-eaten cayuse, jerked the towline of +his objecting burro, and proceeded out of town, Steve making the ford +through the East Fork, while Andy plodded through the shallows of the +West Fork, both bound down the canyon for the desert country which they +hated with an unbelievably bitter hatred, yet which dragged the old men +back to its grim barrens as soon as the spring freshets cleared the +canyon and gulches of winter's accumulation of snow. + +Canyon Pass was no beauty spot over which an artist might rave; nor was +the landscape surrounding it even passably attractive to the eye. Man, +in delving for nature's treasures in the rocky headlands and along the +benches of the East and West Forks, had marred past redemption what +little beauty of form and color the rugged wedge of land at the head of +the canyon once possessed. + +But on this morning there was a soft blur of blue haze padding the sharp +outlines of the canyon walls and brooding over the higher hills. The +streams flowing on either side of the town crooned instead of foaming +boisterously in their beds, and where they joined to make Runaway River, +which followed the bed of the canyon southerly, the thunder of their +waters seemed hushed. + +It was not yet sunrise, but a pearl-gray radiance flooded the town and +canyon as far south as one could see. Lights wavered drunkenly behind +the window-panes of the all-night saloons and dance halls. This enticing +spring morning followed the dregs of another riotous night in Canyon +Pass. + +The day before had been pay day at the Eureka Washings and the Oreode +Company's diggings and at most of the major mining prospects in the +vicinity. At noon the miners and other workmen had knocked off work, +drawn their pay, and, cleaned up and dressed in holiday attire, had +sought the amusement places of the town. From dark till dawn they had as +usual torn the town wide open like a paper sack, to quote Bill Judson, +as he stood in the doorway of his store and watched the two old desert +rats leaving the dulling merriment and drunkenness behind them as they +weaved their several ways out of sight on either bank of Runaway River. + +"They've been doing this for twenty years," added Judson, pointing with +his pipe stem to the disappearing prospectors. "An' to my knowledge and +belief ain't neither of 'em struck a smell of paying color in all that +time." + +"That so?" returned Smithy, his gangling clerk, coming outside to +stretch and yawn. Smithy had the look of a young man who was still in +growth and he needed, as Judson said, "all outdoors to stretch in." + +"Say! What's the matter with them two old sour doughs? All the time they +was buyin' that stuff they never spoke a word to each other, and if one +of 'em caught a look from t'other he snarled like a wild tagger! They'd +have showed their teeth--both of 'em--if they'd had any left but stubs." + +"Ain't spoke, to my knowledge," said the storekeeper, "Steve and Andy +ain't, in all of these twenty years. 'Fore that they was as thick as +hasty puddin' an' throwed in together ev'ry spring--even steven--when they +went prospecting; comin' back yere to Canyon Pass in the fall as happy +as a bride and groom returning from the honeymoon." + +"What happened? What made 'em so sore on each other?" asked Smithy. + +"Don't know. Never did know. Never could find out. 'Twas right after the +big slide. You've heard tell o' that, even if you ain't been here six +months?" + +"A thousand times," returned Smithy in a bored tone. + +"Well, Steve and Andy was perky as blackbirds in a strawyard that +spring. 'Twas twenty years back. They hid out their camp somewhere near +town that time. I always figgered they had a good prospect below there, +in the canyon. 'Twas even reported that they took a sample of the right +stuff to the assayer's office. But they was as close mouthed as twin +clams in the last stages of hydrophoby. + +"Then come the slide. Most of us that was yere then didn't think of much +for a week or two but whether Canyon Pass was goin' to be left on the +map or not. Our stake was yere, and the slide acted like a stopper in +Runaway River--like to plugged the old canyon for fair. + +"Howsumever, when the channel was more or less clear again and we could +come down off the roofs of our shacks, Steve and Andy showed up, but +from different directions, as sore at each other as two carbuncles, and +they ain't never been knowed to speak to one another since. Won't even +drink at the same bar. The only time they come into the Three Star +together is the morning they pull stakes for the desert." + +Smithy yawned again. Steve Siebert and Andy McCann had now disappeared +beyond outcropping warts of rock at the foot of the canyon walls. + +Down the street from the direction of the mining shafts sunk in the +heights behind the town strode a well-proportioned young man whose +bootsoles rang on the patches of earth out of which the frost had not +yet thawed. He was cleanly shaved and clean-looking, and stood more than +six feet tall, with an air of frank assertiveness even in his carriage. +He owned a high color under the wind-tan of his countenance, sandy hair, +and brown eyes with golden flecks in them when he was amused or when he +was angry. + +And Joe Hurley was usually swayed by one emotion or the other. Now he +appeared to be amused as he came abreast of the Three Star Grocery. + +"What's got you and Smithy up so early, Bill?" he asked. + +"Dad burn it, Joe! Don't you know spring has came?" + +"Pshaw! I thought I heard a tree-frog last night. So Steve Siebert and +Andy McCann have lit out same as usual? We shall miss Steve at the Great +Hope." + +"Surest thing you know, Joe. They're on their way. And just as sociable +as usual." Joe Hurley's eyes flashed with the gleam of fun that made him +beloved of all who did not hate him. But before he could utter a comment +the storekeeper added: "Wasn't you in to the Grub Stake to-night?" + +Hurley wheeled to frown suddenly at the flickering lamps of Boss +Tolley's gambling hall and cabaret almost directly across the street. +The quick change of emotion reflected in his face betrayed the character +of the man. Hurley was given to sudden impulses, usually spurred by the +primal passions. Yet he was a strong man, too, and kept the lid on those +passions if he desired. + +"Nell's got some new songs," went on Judson slyly. "Right cute they are. +She certainly is some songbird, Joe. Dad burn it! She's too good for +those roughnecks." + +Hurley nodded slowly but did not show Judson his face at once, still +watching the pale lights of the honkytonk fighting the advancing glow of +the dawn. The storekeeper had not lived sixty-five years--thirty years of +them right here in Canyon Pass--without gaining a pretty keen insight +into human nature. He did not have to see that scowl on Joe Hurley's +face. He knew what Joe was ruminating. + +"And 'tain't only roughnecks that our Nell's too good for," pursued +Judson finally. "The pizenest snakes, they tell me, is the prettiest. +An' kids are tickled to look at pretties. Nell's only a kid after all." + +"You're right, Bill!" ejaculated the mine owner with a snap of his jaws +and his eyes sparking from no good humor. + +He glanced balefully at the Grub Stake, his face set grimly, almost +threatening. + +There were fitful strains of music from within and still some clatter of +feet and voices. Boss Tolley made it his boast that his show continued +until the last reveler left. + +The Grub Stake was a sprawling, T-shaped structure with the long bar and +gaming tables in the shank of the T, the dance hall and stage at the +rear. Beside the main entrance was the sign: "Check Your Guns and Spurs +Here," and at the short counter presided a young woman in a sleeveless +silk jersey and kneelength satin skirt, who dealt out brass checks and +airy persiflage indiscriminately. + +The rosewood bar, behind which Boss Tolley and his three barmen sweated +at the height of the revelry, had cost a fortune to freight over the +trail to Canyon Pass. The gaudy oil painting which hung back of the bar, +to hear Boss Tolley tell it, had cost him a second fortune. + +Dick Beckworth, who was Tolley's chief dealer at the tables of chance, +was a privileged character. He was supposed to be a "killer" with the +ladies. He dressed his long curls and heavy black mustache as carefully +as he did his sleek and slender person. Cream-colored flannel shirt, a +flowing tie, velvet jacket and broadcloth trousers tucked into +patent-leather boots, and a Mexican sombrero heavy with silver cord to +top this ensemble, he made a picture to rival the squalid painting over +the bar. + +The night had been strenuous at the tables, but the gambling fever had +now abated. Dick lolled gracefully in the armchair at his empty table +with half-closed eyes, smoking a cigarette. Around a table near the +archway between the barroom and the hall was a noisy group of miners, +but they were no longer playing. Their glasses had just been refilled at +the bar. + +The rasping chords of a hard-working male quartette beyond the archway +repeated a syncopated rhythm for the entertainment of the patrons of the +tables. + +From beneath the arch into the barroom stepped suddenly an astonishingly +brilliant figure--a figure engraved as sharply as a cameo against the +blue mist of tobacco smoke that now drifted in a thin haze throughout +the barnlike place. The group of miners about the first table roared a +greeting. + +"Nell! Nell Blossom! The blossom of Canyon Pass!" + +"Give us a song of your own, Nellie!" added one burly miner, swaying +from his seat toward her, a maudlin smile on his face. + +The girl's smiling expression changed swiftly to one of flaring fury. +She swept past the miners and headed straight for Dick Beckworth, who +had watched the incident with a little smile flickering about his lips. +The girl's face was still ablaze. She needed no rouge or lipstick in any +case to lend it color. + +"Dick," she said tensely, "I hate this place!" + +"I've already told you I hate to see you in it," he rejoined with +apparent frankness. "Singing and dancing for these roughnecks is far +beneath you." + +The flame of her anger gradually waned as she gazed down into his face. +His usual calmness was somewhat ruffled by her near presence. Nell +Blossom held a certain influence over him that "Dick the Devil"--his +boasted cognomen among his admirers--was loath to acknowledge. + +But she was sweet enough and pretty enough as she stood there to stir +the most placid heart. Even the tawdry costume she wore could not +detract from her charm, the red silk blouse with the V-shaped cut at the +neck, belted velvet skirt to the tops of tiny riding-boots on tiny feet, +her clustering curls of a golden-brown color crowned by a "cowgirl" +hat--all worn as a costume in which to sing "Pony Boy," and "Cheyenne," +which popular hits had finally reached Canyon Pass. + +"I hate this place, Dick," she said again, now wearily dropping into a +chair at his elbow. + +Nell Blossom possessed one of those rare complexions that remind one of +nothing so much as a ripe Alberta peach. The crimson of her cheeks was +vivid, but tinted away into the creaminess of her satin skin. Her lips +were not too red. Her nose was a nose to be proud of without being +large. Her ears were visible and like the blossoms of the dogwood tree +in texture and coloring. + +"You know how I feel, Nell," said Dick, with a calm that belied his +heartbeats. "I'm sick of all this, too." He gestured gracefully with the +hand that held his cigarette. A jewel sparkled on that hand. "Canyon +Pass is a dirty hole. If you say the word we'll get out of it. I've made +a good stake. My rake-off has given me a full poke at last. We'll go +away from here, and I'll get into some paying business. I'll never turn +a card again--for Boss Tolley or any other man. I mean it!" + +The girl was looking straight into his eyes. He met that searching gaze +as inscrutably as he had learned to endure the scrutiny of his opponent +at the poker table. + +"Do you mean it, Dick?" + +"Just that." He nodded. "As I told you yesterday, say the word and we'll +light out--now--this morning. You don't know much about the world outside +of Canyon Pass, Nell, but I'll show it to you. And I love you--love you +like the devil!" + +There was a force in his final phrase, although he did not stir in his +chair, that made her tremble. A vivid flush slowly dyed her cheeks and +throat. It passed, to leave her blue eyes humid and her lips smiling. + +"If you don't believe me--" + +"I do," she interrupted. "I believed you yesterday. My saddlebags are +all packed, Dick, and I'm ready just whenever you are." + +A sudden electric tremor passed through the man's nerves. He veiled his +eyes for a moment that she might not see what flared into them. He rose +with her. + +"Get into your riding clothes and we'll start. I'll meet you with my +horse in half an hour," he said almost sternly. + +But his eyes now answered her look of gratefulness and adoration with +what she thought was a reflection of her own chaste desire. + +So it came about that two other riders left Canyon Pass on this spring +morning while the sun still lingered abed, and, crossing the West Fork +an hour behind Andy McCann, unlike him chose the wagon-track to the +summit of the canyon wall on that side of Runaway River. + +"Which way do we go, Dick? To Crescent City?" + +"South," he returned, without looking at her. + +"We-ell. Lamberton is further but there's a parson there, too. That's +another reason why I've come to hate Canyon Pass. It isn't decent like +other towns--or even up-to-date. It never had a church or a parson. It's +got everything else--saloons, gambling halls, honkytonks, stores, a bank, +a hotel, a stamp mill, an express office, even a school, such as it is. +But it's heathen--plumb heathen, Dick." + +He smiled at her then, rather a superior smile. "It's not the only +mining town that answers your description." + +"I know it," Nell rejoined. "But I want to see the other kind of towns. +Mother Tubbs says Canyon Pass ain't got no heart, and she's right. She +says she can't even tell when Sunday comes, only that Sam always comes +home drunk that day. This is Sunday, Dick. It's a good day on which to +begin a new life." + +"Oh, life's all right," the gambler said easily. "Take it as you find +it, Nell." + +They came up into the sunlight on the rim of the canyon wall. Once on +the level trail their horses broke into a canter. They could look down +at certain points into the sink of the canyon where Runaway River foamed +in its narrow channel. They spied Steve Siebert with his outfit +traveling on the river trail. McCann, of course, they could not see, for +the canyon wall on this side was almost sheer. + +Ahead, as they rode on, was the Overhang--that monstrous projection +capping the scarp of the cliff, left ages ago when the canyon was +roughed out by the glacial floods to threaten the pass below with utter +extinction if its bulk ever fell. Parts of it had fallen some twenty +years previous. This was the "big slide" which had for a time choked the +river channel with soil and rubble and threatened to flood out Canyon +Pass. + +The scar on the steep slope of the west wall down which that slide had +fallen was now masked by a hardy growth of scrubby trees and brush. But +the two old prospectors never passed the place, either going out of or +returning to Canyon Pass, without keenly studying the scar. + +Halfway up the height had been a shelf with a hollow behind it--an ideal +spot for a secret camp, for it could be observed neither from the trail +on the opposite side of the river nor from the rim of the west wall of +the canyon. Buried as this shelf had been by the slide, Steve Siebert +and Andy McCann now marked the spot--and what it hid--and then glanced +sardonically at each other across the foaming river. They snarled at +each other like a pair of toothless old wolves. The fruit of their joint +toil that lay behind that slide, one could not reach, and the other +could not compass. The secret had festered in their hearts and poisoned +the very souls of the two ancients for these twenty years. + +Above, the two in the plane of sunshine and freer air rode along the +brink of the Overhang. + +"Say!" Dick said jerkily. "Let's not go to Lamberton--not direct." + +"What?" + +There was a sharp note in her voice. She turned in her saddle to face +him. Her gaze narrowed. Was there after all a doubt in the very depths +of Nell's soul about the man? + +"I know a fine place--better hotel than at Lamberton--really a nice place +to stop. We can reach it before night. Hoskins. You know?" + +He still spoke nervously. Nell's gaze no more left his face. She said +evenly, as though her mind was quite placid again: + +"There's no parson at Hoskins, either." + +He darted her another side-glance. How was she taking it? Was she, after +all, going to be "sensible?" Nell was seventeen, but a woman grown. + +"Shucks, honey," Dick said, putting out a hand to touch her for the +first time. "We'll ride on and find a parson later. We're in no rush. +We're out for a grand, good time--" + +She pulled her horse across the path with a fierce jerk of the +bridle-rein, and so escaped the defilement of his touch. Her right hand +clutched the handle of her quirt, the knuckles bone-white. + +"Do you mean--you won't marry me?" + +Dick smiled his most disarming smile, his brown eyes even twinkled. That +frank and humorous look was what had first won his advantage with Nell +Blossom. + +"Shucks, honey," he drawled again. "Why so serious? Don't worry about +that. I'm free to confess I'm not a marrying man. Seen too much trouble +for both parties when they are tied to one another with any silly string +of the law. It's love that will hold us together." + +"That's heathen, Dick!" she exclaimed hotly. "Just as heathen as Canyon +Pass." + +"Nonsense!" He laughed. "You're just as safe with me, whether we're +married or not." + +Which might have been quite true, but Nell stared at him, her expression +as inscrutable as his own when he worked behind the green table. Dick +the Devil was a shrewd gambler, but Nell Blossom had played poker +herself ever since she could read the pips on the cards. And she had +been fighting her own battles in harsh environment and against men +almost from the same tender age. Her cold rage now sprang from the fact +that he should so mistake her character. + +"Come on, honey!" he said coaxingly. + +The quirt came up slowly; then it sang through the air. + +"You dog, you! Dick the Devil is your true name! And I thought--" + +The man, shouting an oath, dragged his mount backward. The lash +descended, missed his handsome face, but seared the horse across its +neck. + +Squealing, the animal leaped to one side--to the verge of the out-thrust +lip of the Overhang. The gambler wheeled him again, seeking to save +himself. + +"Do you want to murder me--you wildcat!" he cried angrily. + +There was a sudden crack, like the slapping of one board upon another. +Between the plunging horse and the girl a gap yawned in the earth. +Frost, the early rains, or perhaps time itself, had weakened this bit of +the Overhang. A patch no larger than a good-sized dining table broke +away and slid outward. + +The scrambling, wild-eyed horse and the shrieking, white-faced man +disappeared with it. The girl held in her own mount with a firm hand. +The flare of insane anger faded from her blue eyes. But her countenance +settled into a harsh and unlovely expression. + +Yet she slipped down from her saddle, quieted her horse with a word, and +stepped recklessly to the crumbling edge, trying to see down the face of +the cliff. + +She could mark no trace of horse or rider. She could no longer hear the +rumble of the falling dbris. An icy horror gripped her. He was gone! + +Finally she drew back from the brink. She looked about at the landscape, +but there was not a human being to be seen. She slowly mounted her horse +again. + +Something besides a terrible disaster had happened here at the brink of +the Overhang. Something had happened to Nell Blossom so great, so +soul-racking, that she would never be altogether the same girl again. It +is a dreadful thing for one so young to find its love-idol shattered. + +After a little Nell started her mount, but she did not ride back toward +Canyon Pass. + + + + +CHAPTER II--DISCONTENT AT DITSON CORNERS + + +The Reverend Willett Ford Hunt read twice these closing words of the +long letter. + + ... and so, my dear Willie, to use your own way of expressing it, I + am steering straight for the devil--and enjoying the trip immensely. + + Wishing you were with me, Willie, I am, even after your rather + bitter castigation, + + Sincerely your friend, + Joe Hurley. + +He laid the missive on his desk with a full-bosomed sigh. Nor was that +sigh wholly because of the reprobate Joe. Joe's flowers of speech did +not much ruffle the parson's spirit. + +Joe Hurley might be gay, irresponsible, reckless, even downright wicked; +but he never could fail to be kind. Two years of close contact with the +blithe Westerner--those final two years at college before Hunt went to +the divinity school--had assured the latter that Joe Hurley owned a heart +of gold. The gold might be tarnished, but it was true metal +nevertheless. + +Hunt's mental picture of his college friend, and never had scholastic +friendship been more astounding, could not include any great blemish of +later-developed character. It was five years since they had seen each +other. Those five years could not have made of Joe Hurley the +"roughneck" that he intimated he had become. That was Joe's penchant for +painting with a wide brush. + +The reputation the Westerner had left behind him at college when he was +requested by a horrified governing board to depart for the sake of the +general welfare of the undergraduate body, revealed Joe's character +unequivocally. + +When Joe had been "bounced" by the faculty he had celebrated the +occasion by giving a farewell banquet at one of the shadiest hotels in +the college town, to the wildest crowd of students he could get +together. On his own part Joe had dressed in full cowboy regalia, and as +the apex of the evening's entertainment he had "shot up" the banquet +room, paying the bill for damages the next morning with a cheerful +smile. + +The Reverend Willett Ford Hunt remembered the occasion now with a little +shiver of apprehension. Suppose the people of Ditson Corners should ever +learn that he, their pastor, had been one of that company who had helped +Joe Hurley celebrate his dismissal from scholastic halls! + +Joe's father, a cattleman, had left him a considerable fortune. Joe had +invested much of it in a certain mining claim called the Great Hope, for +the young fellow had been keen enough to see that the day of the small +cattleman was gone. The mine was paying a comfortable income with the +promise of doing more than that in the future, so Joe wrote. But he +wrote more--much more that was exceedingly interesting to Hunt in his +present discontented state of mind. + +He picked up the letter again to re-read a part of the third page, this +broken sentence first meeting his envious eye: + + ... and if ever there was a peach, she surely is one, Willie. + Golden-brown hair, big blue eyes, and a voice--Say! No songbird ever + had anything on Nell. If you once saw her and heard her sing, you'd + go crazy about her, old sobersides. All Canyon Pass--I mean the + men-folks--are at her feet again, now she has returned to town and is + singing in Colorado Brown's cabaret. Sounds sort of devilish and + horrid, doesn't it, Willie? Believe me, Nell Blossom is some girl. + But wild--say! You can't get near her. She's got a laugh that plays + the deuce with a man's heart strings--accelerates the pit-a-pat of + the cardiac nerve to top-notch and then some! She's got us all on + her string, from gray-bearded sour doughs to the half-grown grocery + clerk at the Three Star, who would commit suicide to-morrow at her + behest--believe me! + + But no man, Willie, has seemed yet to put the come hither on Nell + Blossom. She just won't be led, coaxed, or driven. She's as hard as + molded glass. A man-hater, if ever you heard of one. With all your + famed powers of persuasion, reverend, I'd like to make a wager that + you couldn't mold our Nell into a pattern of the New England + virtues, such as your own prim little sister has become by this + time, I've no doubt. No insult to Miss Betty intended, Willie. But + our Nell--well, you'd have your hands full in trying to make her do a + thing that she did not want to do. + +The Reverend Willett Ford Hunt was stung here, not by the good-natured +raillery aimed at his own traits of character by his old college mate. +But why had Joe gone out of his way to drag Betty's name into it? It +seemed to be a mild slur upon his sister's character, and Hunt had an +uneasy feeling that he ought to resent it. + +Betty had met Joe Hurley but once--to Hunt's knowledge. It was an +occasion when she had stopped at the college town on her way home from +boarding school. Hunt had met her at the station, and Joe had shown up, +too. The three of them had sought a restaurant where they ate, and Betty +had chattered like--well, just as a girl of her age and fresh from the +excitement of boarding school would chatter. When her first fear of the +big Westerner had worn off she had usurped the conversation almost +completely. Hunt had often thought since that Joe Hurley was quite +attracted by his lively sister. + +But how did Joe know that Betty had changed so? + +That his sister was not the same cheerful, brisk, chatterbox of a girl +she had been when Joe met her, Hunt quite well knew. And the change +puzzled him. + +He visualized their Aunt Prudence Mason, who had lived all her long life +in the rut of New England spinsterhood, molding more or less the +characters of the orphaned brother and sister left at an early age to +her sole care. Was Betty, here in the straitened environment of Ditson +Corners, doomed to jog along the well-beaten track Aunt Prudence had +followed? The brother shuddered as he thought of it. + +He glanced at Joe's letter once more. A golden-haired, blue-eyed girl +who really sang--not shrieked as did Miss Pelter whose top notes in the +church choir rasped Hunt's nerves like a cross-cut saw dragged through a +pine knot. + +There was always a quarrel of some kind in that choir--the bickerings and +heart-burnings of his volunteer church choir were perennial. + +Then, there was the feud over the Ditson pew--which branch of the +influential Ditson family should hold the chief seats in the church. +Hunt could not satisfy everybody. There was still a clique, even after +his two years' pastorate, who let it be frankly known that they had +desired to call Bardell, instead of him, to the pulpit of the First +Church. + +These continued faultfindings and disputes were getting on Hunt's +nerves. And they must be affecting Betty--influencing her more than he +had heretofore considered. + +This letter from Joe Hurley had come at a moment when Hunt was +desperately and completely out of tune with his environment. He had +brought to his first pastorate a modicum of enthusiasm which, during the +first year, had expanded into an earnest and purposeful determination to +do his duty as he saw it and to carry his congregation in spirit to the +heights he would achieve. + +He--and they--had risen to a certain apex of spiritual experience through +the first months of his earnest endeavor, and then the cogs had begun to +slip. Suddenly Willett Ford Hunt's castles toppled and collapsed about +him. He found himself, half stunned, wholly mazed, wallowing in the +dbris of his first church row, the renewed war over the Ditson pew. + +Hunt had extricated himself from this cataclysm with difficulty, almost +like a man lifting himself off the earth by his bootstraps. The Ditson +feud was by no means at an end even now, and it never would be ended as +long as two Ditsons of different branches of the family remained alive. +Hunt had sought to renew his own and his congregation's spiritual life. +It was then and not until then that he discovered the fire was out. + +Oh, for a church where one might preach as one pleased, so long as one +followed the spiritual instincts aroused by right living and a true +desire to help one's fellow men! That is what Hunt said he longed for. + +But actually what he longed for is what perhaps we all long for whether +we know it or not--appreciation. Not fulsome praise, not a mawkishly +sentimental fawning flattery. He desired to feel that the understanding +heart of the community apprehended what he wished to do and respected +his effort though he might fall short of the goal. + +There seemed to be no heart--understanding or otherwise--in Ditson +Corners. Why! A wild Western mining camp, such as Joe said Canyon Pass +was, could be no more ungrateful a soil to cultivate than this +case-hardened, hide-bound, self-centered and utterly uncharitable +Berkshire community. + +The thought--not even audibly expressed--nevertheless shocked Hunt. + +Hunt reached for the letter again. What had Joe said about there being a +field for religious endeavor in Canyon Pass? It was along in the first +part of the screed, and when he had found it he read: + + Joshing aside, Willie, I believe you might dig down to the very + heart of Canyon Pass--and I believe it has a heart. You were such a + devil of a fellow for getting at the tap-root of a subject. If + anybody can electrify the moral fiber of Canyon Pass--as some of them + say I have the business part--it will be a man like you. You could do + the "Lazarus, arise!" stunt if anybody could--make the composite + moral man of Canyon Pass get up, put on a boiled shirt, and go forth + a decent citizen. And believe me, the composite figure of the moral + man here sadly needs such an awakening. + +There was something that gripped Hunt in the rough and ready diction of +this letter--something that aroused his imagination. It brought to his +mind, too, a picture of Joe himself--a picture of both his physical and +his mental proportions. + +The Reverend Willett Ford Hunt was no pigmy himself, nor did he lack +courage and vigor. He was good to look upon, dark without being sallow, +crowned with a thick brush of dull black hair--there were some brown +lights in it--possessing good features, keen gray eyes, broad shoulders, +a hundred and eighty pounds of gristle and flesh on a perfect bony +structure, and could look over a six-barred gate before he vaulted it. +He had not allowed his spiritual experiences, neither rising nor +falling, to interfere with his gymnastics or his daily walk. + +But Joe Hurley topped Hunt by two inches, was broader, hardier, a wholly +out-of-door man. Joe was typically of the West and the wilderness. He +knew the open places and the tall timber, the mountains and the canyons, +the boisterous waters of cascade and rock-hemmed river. He was such an +entirely different being from Hunt that the latter had often wondered +why the Westerner had made such a chum and confidant of him during those +two years at college. + +And now the pastor of Ditson Corners' First Church realized that Joe +Hurley had something that he wanted. He wished he was with Joe, out +there in that raw country. He felt that he could get nearer to mankind +out there and perhaps--he said it reverently--nearer to the God he humbly +desired to serve. He thought of Betty. + +"She needs a change as much as I do. How does Joe guess that she is +becoming exactly a prim, repressed, narrow-thinking woman, and a Martha +cumbered by many cares? She needs her chance as much as I need mine." + +He heard Betty's step on the porch, and in a moment she entered the +study, her hands full of those grateful mid-spring flowers, the lily of +the valley. + +Betty Hunt was not a fragile girl, but she did not possess much of that +embonpoint the Greeks considered so necessary to beauty of figure. Nor +was she angular. At least, her grace of carriage and credibly tailored +frock masked any lack of flesh. + +Slim hands she had, too,--beautiful hands, very white and with only a +faint tracery of blue veins upon them. Really, they were a musician's +hands--pliable, light of touch, but strong. The deftness with which they +arranged the flowers suggested that she did not need vision to aid in +the task. + +Therefore she kept her gaze on Hunt. He felt it, turned, and smiled up +at her. He shook the leaves of the letter in his hand. + +"Bet," he said, "I've got another letter from Joe Hurley." + +Betty's countenance changed in a flash. + +"Oh! That Westerner?" + +There was more than disapproval in her tone. She looked away from him +quickly. Her own gray eyes filmed. A shocked, almost terrified +expression seemed to stiffen all her face. But Hunt did not see this. + +"There is no use talking, Bet," her brother pursued in an argumentative +way, thoughtfully staring at the letter again. "There is no use talking. +Joe has it right. We are vegetating here. Most people in towns like +this, here in the East, might honestly be classified among the _flora_ +rather than the _fauna_. We're like rows of cabbages in a kitchen +garden." + +"Why, Ford!" + +He grinned up at her--a suddenly recalled grimace of his boyhood. + +"There speaks the cabbage, Bet! We're all alike--or most of us are. Here +in the old Commonwealth I mean. We're afraid to step aside from the +rutted path, to accept a new idea; really afraid to be and live out each +his own individuality. + +"Ah! Out in this place Joe writes about----" + +He fingered the sheets of the letter again. She watched with the slow +fading of all animation from her face--just as though a veil were drawn +across it by invisible fingers. Her expression was not so much one of +disapproval--her eyes held something entirely different in their depths. +Was it fear? + +"This Canyon Pass is a real field for a man's efforts," burst out Hunt +with sudden exasperation. "I tell you, Bet, I feel as though my +usefulness here had evaporated. I haven't a thing in common with these +people. Carping criticism and little else confronts me whichever way I +turn." + +"You--you are nervous, Ford." + +"Nerves! What right has a man like me with nerves?" he demanded hotly. + +"But, Ford--your work here?" + +"Is a failure. Oh, yes. I can see better than you do, Bet--more +clearly--that I have lost my grip on these people." + +"Surely there are other churches in the East that would welcome a man of +your talents." + +"Aye! Another little hard-baked community in which I shall find exactly +the elements that have made my pastorate here a failure." + +"You are not a failure!" she cried loyally. + +"That's nice of you, Bet. You are a mighty good sister. But I am letting +you in for a share of the very difficulties that would soon put gray in +my hair and a stone in my bosom instead of a heart." + +"Oh, Ford!" + +"Out there--in some place like this Joe writes about--would be a new and +unplowed field. A place where a man could develop--grow, not vegetate." + +"But--but must it necessarily be the West, Ford? I am not fond of the +West." + +"You've never seen it." + +"I'm not fond of Western people." + +He looked at her with a dawning smile. "You're afraid of them, Bet." + +"Yes. I am afraid of them," whispered his sister, turning her face away +from his gaze. "They are not our kind, Ford." + +"That's exactly it," he cried, smiting the desk with the flat of his +palm. "We need to get out into the world, among people who are just as +different from 'our kind,' as you term them, as possible. There we can +expand. Out in Canyon Pass. I believe I could be a real help to that +community. What is it Joe says?" He glanced again at the letter before +him. "Yes! I might dig down to the very heart of Canyon Pass. Ditson +Corners has merely a pumping station to circulate the blood of the +community, patterned after the one at the reservoir on Knob Hill." + +She did not speak again. When Hunt looked around she had stolen from the +room. + +"Poor Bet!" he muttered. "The idea of change alarms her as it might have +alarmed Aunt Prudence. Joe Hurley is right--he's right beyond a doubt!" + + + + +CHAPTER III--A SHADOW THROWN BEFORE + + +A rider had his choice in journeying to Canyon Pass from a southerly +direction--say from Lamberton, which lies between the railroad and the +desert--of following the river trail to be deafened by the boisterous +voice of the flood, or of climbing to the high lands and there jogging +along the wagon track which finally dipped down the steeps to the ford +of the West Fork and so into the mining town. + +Spring was drifting into the background of the year. The cottonwood +leaves were the size of squirrel ears. The new fronds of the pion had +expanded to full size and now their needles quivered in the heat of the +almost summer-like day. Joe Hurley, sitting his heavy-haunched bay, +giving as easily to the animal's paces as a sack of meal, followed the +wagon track rather than the river trail and so came to that fork where +wheel-ruts from a westerly direction joined the road along the brink of +the canyon wall. + +A cream-colored pony came cantering along the trail from Hoskins, its +rider as gaily dressed as a Mexican vaquero--a splotch of color against +the background of the evergreens almost startling to his vision. But it +was the identity of this rider that invigorated the tone of the mining +man's reflections. + +"Nell Blossom! The only sure-enough cure for ophthalmia! Am I going to +have the pleasure of being your escort back to Canyon Pass? It will sure +do me proud. The Passonians are honing for you, Nell." + +"I'm going back to the Pass--yes, Mr. Hurley," she said, pulling down her +pony to the more sedate pace of his big bay. + +"Where you been since you left us all in the lurch? There was almost a +riot at the Grub Stake when Tolley found out you had gone." + +"Boss Tolley hasn't got anything on me," she said defensively. "I'd +never sing there again, anyway." + +"Somebody said you'd lit out for the desert with Steve Siebert and Andy +McCann," and he chuckled. "They started the same day you vamoosed." + +"I might just as well have gone with those old desert rats. Pocket +hunting couldn't be much worse than Hoskins." + +"Great saltpeter! What took you to Hoskins?" exclaimed Hurley. "Where's +your local pride? If you weren't born at Canyon Pass, you've lived there +most of your life. You shouldn't encourage a dump like Hoskins to +believe for a moment that it has greater attractions than the Pass." + +"If I thought it might be more attractive, I learned better," she said +shortly. + +"Mother Tubbs got a letter from you, but she wouldn't tell us where you +were." + +"No," Nell said. "I didn't want the boys riding over there and starting +a roughhouse at the Tin Can Saloon." + +"Great saltpeter!" exclaimed Hurley again. "You don't mean to say you +been caroling your roundelays in _that_ place?" + +"A girl has to work somewhere, and I was sick to death of the Grub +Stake." + +"Boss Tolley is no pleasant citizen and his joint is no sweet-scented +garden spot, I admit," Hurley agreed. "Personally I'd like to see Tolley +run out of town and the Grub Stake eliminated. But Colorado Brown has +opened a new place and is going to run it right--so he says." + +"That's what is bringing me back," Nell confessed. "He got word to me by +Mother Tubbs, and he made me a better offer than Tolley ever would. But +I expect one cabaret is about like another in these roughneck towns." + +"I don't know about that," the man said defensively. "We mean to try to +clean up Canyon Pass. The boys have got to have amusement. Colorado +Brown is a white man, and, if he gets the backing of the better element, +he can give a good show and sell better hootch and better grub than ever +Boss Tolley dared to." + +"Hootch is hootch," Nell interrupted. "It's all bad. There's nothing +good about a rotten egg, Mr. Hurley. And the men's money is wasted in +all those places--plumb wasted!" + +He had been watching her closely as they talked. He had been watching +Nell closely, off and on, for several years. Like many of the other +young and unattached men of Canyon Pass, Joe Hurley had at one time +attempted to storm the fortress of Nell Blossom's heart. Finally he had +become convinced that the girl was not for him. + +Joe Hurley neither wore his heart on his sleeve nor was he unwise enough +to anger Nell by forcing his attentions beyond that barrier she had +raised between them. His were merely the objections of any clean-minded +man when he had seen her yielding to the machinations of Dick the Devil. +Joe knew the gambler's kind. + +He had felt no little anxiety when, with the usual spring exodus of the +two old desert rats, Steve Siebert and Andy McCann, Nell and Dick +Beckworth had likewise disappeared from the Grub Stake. Dick, of course, +had settled with Boss Tolley; he intimated that he was starting north +for the railroad at Crescent City. The hour had been so early that +nobody else had chanced to see the gambler and the girl ride away. Nell +was missed later, and all the right thinking men of the town, although +they said little, feared the worst for Nell Blossom. + +Nell had displayed at the last some little interest in Dick the Devil. +The other girls at the Grub Stake gossiped about it. + +Then came Mother Tubbs with a bona-fide letter from the girl to dam the +flood of gossip. Nell was working as usual in a cabaret. She had left +Boss Tolley because she could not stand him any longer. She was bitter +about the Grub Stake and its proprietor. And not a word in the letter +about Dick Beckworth. It was plain, even to the most suspicious, that +Dick had not gone with her after all. + +These few facts colored Joe Hurley's thoughts as they rode along the +track. What colored Nell's? + +When the sprightly talk lapsed between them, the girl's face fell into +unhappy lines. She who had been as blithe as a field lark all her life +was showing to Joe Hurley for the first time a most unnatural soberness +of spirit. Her eyes, their gaze fixed straight ahead, were filmed with +remoteness that his friendly glance could not penetrate. + +Something had changed Nell Blossom. She was no longer the happy-go-lucky +girl she had been heretofore. He wondered if, after all, her affair with +Dick Beckworth was serious. + +They skirted the Overhang, their horses now at a canter. Nell suddenly +pulled in her mount at a place where a patch along the brink of the +treacherous cap had recently crumbled. + +"Looks as if there might have been a small slide," observed Hurley +cheerfully. + +"Was--was anybody hurt?" + +"Reckon not. Just about where the big slide was years ago. There are +always bits dropping down this cliff. I tell 'em there's bound to be +another landslip some time that will play hob with Runaway River and +maybe flood out the town again. It's like living over a volcano." + +Nell still looked back at the broken edge of the cliff. "Nobody missing, +then? Nobody--er--left town?" + +He laughed. "Nobody but you and old Steve and Andy McCann. Those old +desert rats lit out the same morning you left town. Hold on! I don't +know as you know it; but Dick Beckworth went about that time. He's gone +to Denver, so Tolley says, to deal faro at a big place there." + +He could not see the girl's face. As far as he knew the statement made +no impression upon her. They jogged on practically in silence until they +came to the point where the wagon-track plunged steeply to the ford of +the West Fork, and from which spot the squalid town was first visible. + +"Ugh!" Nell shuddered and glanced at Joe again. "It is such an ugly +place." + +"Where's your civic pride, Nell?" and the other chuckled. + +"What is there to be proud of?" was her sharp demand. + +"It's a money-making town." + +"Money!" + +"Quite a necessary evil, that same money," he rejoined. "Gold is a good +foundation to build a town upon. Canyon Pass has 'got a future in front +of it,' as the feller said. Business is booming. Bank deposits are +increasing. Three families have bought piano-players, and there are at +least a dozen talking machines in town--besides the female citizens," and +he laughed again. + +"All that?" in a sneering tone. "Still, the bulk of the wages from the +mines and washings are spent for drink and in gambling. The increase in +bank deposits I bet are made by the merchants and honkytonk keepers, Mr. +Hurley. Canyon Pass is prosperous--yes. But at the expense of everything +decent and everybody's decency. Mother Tubbs has got it right. Canyon +Pass hasn't got a heart." + +"Oh--heart!" + +"Yes, heart. There's neither law nor gospel, she says. Only such law as +is enforced at the muzzle of the sheriff's gun. And as far as religion +goes--when was there ever a parson in Canyon Pass?" + +"They're rare birds, I admit. But you needn't blame me, Nell." + +"I do blame you!" she exclaimed fiercely. "You're at fault--you, and +Slickpenny Norris who runs the bank, and Bill Judson of the Three Star, +and the manager of the Oreode Company, and the other more influential +men. It is your fault that there isn't a church and other civilized +things in Canyon Pass." + +"Great saltpeter, Nell! You're not wailing for a Sunday School and a sky +pilot?" + +"Me? I reckon not!" She almost spat out the scornful denial. "I'm just +telling you what your old Canyon Pass is. It's a back number. But I'm +free to confess if a parson and a crew of psalm-singing tenderfoots came +here, I'd like enough pull my freight again--and that time for keeps! +Even Hoskins would be more endurable." + +At this outburst Joe Hurley broke into laughter. Nell Blossom was +paradoxical--had always been. + +And yet, what Nell had said about the shortcomings of Canyon Pass stuck +in Joe Hurley's mind. Within a few days the thought, fermenting within +him, resulted in that letter which had so interested--not to say +excited--the Reverend Willett Ford Hunt in far-away Ditson Corners. + + + + +CHAPTER IV--PHILOSOPHY BOUND IN HOMESPUN + + +"No, there ain't no news--no news a-tall," declared Mrs. Sam Tubbs, +comfortably rocking. "Nothing ever happens in Canyon Pass. For a right +busy town on its main street, there's less happens in the back alleys +than in any camp I ever seen--and I seen a-plenty. + +"It's in the back alleys o' life, Nell, that the interesting things +happen. Folks buy and sell, and argue and scheme, and otherwise play the +fool out on the main streets. But in the alleys babies is born, and +people die, and boys and gals make love and marry. Them's the re'lly +interesting things in life." + +"Ugh! Love and marriage! They are the biggest fool things the world +knows anything about." + +Mother Tubbs chuckled. It was an unctuous chuckle. It shook her great +body like a violent explosion in a jelly-bag and made the wide-armed +rocking-chair she sat in creak. + +"Sho!" she said. "I've heard seventeen-year-old gals say as much 'fore +now, who dandled their second young-un on their knee 'fore they was +twenty. The things we're least sure of in this world is love and +marriage. Lightning ain't nothin' to 'em--nothin'! + +"Now, there's Mr. Joe Hurley----" + +Nell started, turned on the top step of the Tubbs' back porch, and +looked searchingly at the old woman with a frown on her brow. + +"Now, there's Mr. Joe Hurley," pursued Mother Tubbs placidly. "There +ain't a thing the matter with that man but that he needs a wife." + +"Why doesn't he take one, then?" demanded Nell wickedly. "There are +plenty of them around here whose husbands don't seem to care anything +about them." + +"Like me and my Sam, heh?" put forth Mother Tubbs, still amused. "But I +reckon if Mr. Joe Hurley, or any other man, should attempt to run away +with me, Sam would go gunning for him. What they call the 'first law of +Nater'--which is the sense of possession, not self-preservation--would +probably get to working in Sam's mind. + +"He'd get to thinking of my flapjacks and chicken-with-fixin's and his +bile would rise 'gainst the man--no matter who--who was enjoying them +victuals. + +"Oh, yes. Not only is the way to a man's heart through his stomach; but +believe me, Nell, most men are like those people the Bible speaks of +'whose god is their stomach.'" + +"Does the Bible say that, Mother Tubbs?" broke in the girl. + +"Somethin' near to it." + +"Then there is some sense in the Bible, isn't there?" + +"Hush-er-you, Nell Blossom!" ejaculated the old woman sternly. "Does +seem awful that you're such a heathen. The Bible's plumb full of good +advice, and lovely stories, and sweet truths. I used to read it a lot +before I broke my specs. But I remember lots that I read, thanks be." + +"I don't care for stories," said the girl crossly. "And I don't know +that I believe there is a heaven," she went on quickly. "Once you are +dead I reckon that's all there is to it. I won't learn any more songs +about heaven. I used to cry over them--and about folks dying. I remember +the first song Dad taught me to sing in the saloons. It used to make me +cry when I came to the verse: + + Last night as I lay on my pillow-- + Last night as I lay on my bed-- + Last night as I lay on my pillow, + I dreamt that my Bonnie was dead. + Bring back! Oh, bring back! + Bring back my Bonnie to me, to me---- + +It's all stuff and nonsense!" she broke off with confidence. + +"That ain't a hymn," said Mother Tubbs placidly. "Hymns is different, +Nell. A good, uplifting hymn like 'Am I a Soldier of the Cross,' or +'Beulah Land,' takes you right out of yourself--bears your heart up on +wings o' hope and helps you forget you're only a poor, miserable worm----" + +"I'm not a worm!" interrupted Nell with vigor. "I'm as good as +anybody--as good as anybody in Canyon Pass, anyway, even if some of these +women do look down on me." + +"Of course you are, Nell. 'Worm' is just a manner o' speaking." + +"Dad trained me to sing in these saloons, I know," went on the girl +quickly, angrily, "because he was too weakly to use a pick and shovel. +We had to eat, and he thought he had to have drink. So I had to earn it. +But I've been a good girl." + +"I never doubted it, Nell," Mother Tubbs hastened to say. "Nobody could +doubt it that knowed you as well as I do." She let her gaze wander over +the squalid back yards of the row of shacks of which the Tubbs' domicile +was no better than its neighbors. "They don't know you like I do, Nell. +You've lived with me for three years--all the time you was growing into a +woman, as ye might say. You hafter do what you do, and I don't 'low when +we are forced into a job, no matter what it is, that it's counted +against us as a sin." + +Nell flashed the placid old woman another glance. There was something +hidden behind that look--of late there was something secretive in all +Nell Blossom said or did. Did Mother Tubbs understand that this was so? +Was she, in her rude but kindly way, offering a sympathy that she feared +to put into audible speech for fear of offending the proud girl? + +The latter suddenly laughed, but it was not the songbird's note her +voice expressed. There was something harsh--something scornful--in it. + +"I reckon I could get away with murder, and you'd say I was all right, +Mother Tubbs," she declared. + +"Well, mebbe," the old woman admitted, her eyes twinkling. + +"Suppose--" said Nell slowly, her face turned away again, "suppose a +party was the cause of another's death--even if he deserved it--but didn't +mean just that--suppose, anyway, what you did caused a man's death, for +whatever reason, although unintended? Would it be a sin, Mother Tubbs?" + +She might have been reflecting upon a quite casual supposition for all +her tone and manner betrayed. Just how wise Mother Tubbs was--just how +far-seeing--no human soul could know. The old woman had seen much and +learned much during her long journey through a very rough and wicked +world. + +"I tell you, Nell," Mother Tubbs observed, "it's all according to what's +in our hearts, I reckon. If what we done caused a party to die, and we +had death in our heart when we done the thing that killed him, I reckon +it would be a sin. No getting around that. For we can't take God's +duties into our hands and punish even the wickedest man with death--like +we'd crunch a black beetle under our bootsole. 'Vengeance is Mine; I +will repay, saith the Lord.'" She repeated the phrase with reverence. +"No, sin is sin. And because a party deserves to be killed, in our +opinion, don't excuse our killing him." + +Nell was quite still for a minute. Then she shrugged her shoulders. + +"Humph!" she said briskly. "I don't think much of your religion, Mother +Tubbs. No, I don't." + +Mother Tubbs began to croon: + + It's the old-style religion, + The old-style religion, + The old-style religion, + That gets you on your way. + 'Twas good enough for Moses, + Good enough for Moses-- + The old-style religion, + That gets you on your way. + +"It ain't no new-fangled religion, Nell. But it's comforting----" + +"It wouldn't comfort me none," answered the girl. "I reckon it ain't +religion--and a sky pilot--that Canyon Pass needs after all. If we'd just +run about fifty of these tramps out of town--and Boss Tolley and his +gang--we could get along without psalm-singing and such flubdubbery." + +"You ain't talking like you used to, Nell," said the old woman, +observing her curiously. + +"I hadn't thought so much about it. Religion is too soft. These +roughnecks would ride right over a parson and--and that kind. Now, +wouldn't they?" + +"Not altogether. I expect they'd try--at first. But if a man had enough +grace in him, he'd stand up against 'em." + +"He'd better have backbone." + +"Same thing," chuckled Mother Tubbs. "Same thing. It takes the grace of +God to stiffen a man's backbone--I tell you true. I hope this parson Mr. +Joe Hurley talks about has got plenty of grace." + +"Who--what?" gasped the girl. "What parson?" + +"Well, now! That is a gob o' news. But I thought you must o' heard +it--over to Colorado Brown's, or somewhere--the way you was talkin'. This +parson is a friend of Mr. Joe Hurley, and he wants to get him out yere." + +"From the East?" + +"Yeppy. Mr. Joe says he went to school with him. And he's some +preacher." + +"What do you think o' that!" ejaculated Nell. "Mr. Hurley didn't say +anything to me about it the day we rode into the Pass together." + +"I reckon not. This has all been hatched up since then." + +"But, Mother Tubbs!" cried the girl. "You don't expect any tenderfoot +parson can come in here and make over Canyon Pass?" + +"I reckon not. We folks have got to make ourselves over. But we need a +leader--we need a Shower of the Way. We've lost our eyesight--the best of +us--when it comes to seeing God's ways. My soul! I couldn't even raise a +prayer in conference meeting no more. But I used to go reg'lar when I +was a gal--played the melodeon--led the singin'--and often got down on my +knees in public and raised a prayer." + +"Humph!" scoffed the girl. "If God answered prayer, I bet you prayed +over Sam enough to have cured him of getting drunk forty times over!" + +"I don't know--I don't know," returned Mother Tubbs thoughtfully. "I been +thinking lately that, mebbe when I was praying to God to save Sam from +his sins, I was cursing Sam for his meanness! I ain't got as sweet a +disposition as I might have, Nell." + +"Oh, yes you have, Mother Tubbs!" exclaimed Nell, and suddenly jumped up +to kiss the old woman warmly. "You're a dear, sweet old thing!" + +"Well, now," rejoined Mother Tubbs complacently, "I ought to purr like +any old tabby-cat for that." + + + + +CHAPTER V--HOW THE PASSONIANS TOOK IT + + +"Well," observed Bill Judson oracularly, "it's about time for something +new to break in Canyon Pass. About once in so often even a +dead-an'-alive camp like this yere has got to feel the bump of progress +from the train behind. Otherwise we'd stay stalled till Gabriel's +trump." + +He spoke to Smithy, his single clerk at the Three Star Grocery. He had +to speak to Smithy, or to the circumambient air, for nobody but the +gangling clerk was within hearing. They lounged on the store porch in +the middle of the afternoon, and the only other thing alive on the main +street of Canyon Pass was a wandering burro browsing on the tufts of +grass edging the shallow gutters. + +"I don't see as Canyon Pass has got to be bumped by a gospel sharp to +wake it up," complained Smithy, stretching his arms as though they were +elastic. "Yahhoo! Well, he'll have a sweet time here, Mr. Judson." + +"I dunno," said the storekeeper reflectively. "For my part I feel like I +favored it." + +"'Cause it's something new?" + +"'Cause it's something needed. I ain't one of those fellers that run +after every new thing just because it is new. But I'm for progress. I +want to see the Pass get ahead. Crescent City and Lamberton have both +got churches and parsons." + +"And they've got railroads," put in Smithy, making a good point. "Canyon +Pass needs the railroad more'n it does a parson." + +"Son," proclaimed Judson, "before Canyon Pass can get a railroad +connection, mountains have got to be moved and the meanest stretch of +desert that ever spawned lizards, sidewinders and cacti, and produce in +their places about five hundred square mile of irrigated farmland to pay +for spiking the rails to the sleepers. See?" + +"Well, the farms might come," declared Smithy defensively. + +"Sure. So might Christmas come at Fourth o' July. But we ain't never +celebrated the two holidays together yet. No, sir. To irrigate the edge +of that desert even, a dam would have to be built across the southern +outlet of the canyon, and that would back the water up yere in freshet +season till the roof of my shack would be so deep under the surface that +about all I could properly keep in stock would be perch and rainbow +trout. + +"They ain't building branch railroads no more to mining camps like +Canyon Pass. That's why we all chipped in for the stamp mill and the +cyanide plant. Nope. We'll freight in our supplies with mules and +communicate with the more effete centers of civilization by stagecoach +for some time to come I reckon. + +"That being the case we got to uplift ourselves without the help of the +iron horse, as the feller said. And having a church and a parson is +uplifting." + +"Nobody ain't talked very brash about a church." + +"Parson comes first. Naturally. Of course this friend of Joe Hurley is +only coming on a visit at first." + +"He'll have a sweet visit here," repeated Smithy. + +"That's according," said Judson. "We got to be hospitable. If a judge, +or a senator, or a school teacher, or even a drummer sellin' fishin' +tackle, came yere we'd feel like we wanted to show him the town's best +side. Why not this parson?" + +"Huh! A drummer don't try to convert us and innovate psalm-singing and +such," grumbled Smithy. + +"Son," drawled Judson, his eyes twinkling under his bushy brows, "you're +convicted of sin right now. You're scare't of this parson--and that's the +trouble with most of you fellers who are raising a yawp against progress +as represented by this Reverend Hunt." + +"'Taint only us fellers," grumbled Smithy. "Some of the womenfolk ain't +pleased. Say! Nell says she don't want no black-coated parson in this +camp. Says it would give her the willies, so she couldn't sing." + +It was an indisputable fact--Joe Hurley himself had discovered it--that +the Passonians were divided upon the matter of the expected coming of +the Reverend Willett Ford Hunt. The sheep and the goats that had +heretofore milled together in a general herd, were dividing upon +strictly religious lines. Joe was somewhat surprised. Some of the very +people he had presumed would welcome the innovation, were suspicious of +it. + +Mr. Robertson Norris, "Slickpenny" Norris was his undignified +appellation, became quite red of face and beat rather a futile fist upon +the banking counter as he gave his opinion to Joe Hurley. Norris was a +puny-looking, string-bean sort of man. The height of rage could not have +made his appearance impressive. + +"Joe Hurley, you are a director of this bank, and your last statement of +the Great Hope shows that you are a good mining man. I find on most +subjects you display good sense. But on this question you're all +wrong--all wrong!" + +"I don't get you--I don't get you at all," drawled Hurley. "A moral man +like you, Norris, I reckoned would welcome the idea of having a parson +in the town." + +"I have no quarrel with parsons--none at all, Joe," declared the banker. +"But Canyon Pass is in no present shape--financially, I mean--to +contemplate the building of a church edifice. A church is something you +can't tax, and it brings in absolutely no revenue to the town. It's not +an asset, but a liability, and the Pass can't afford any such luxuries +at this time." + +"Great saltpeter!" + +"Listen to me, Joe Hurley! I've advocated proper town improvements, even +when they take the skin off my own nose, and always will. I am strong +for Main Street being paved and sidewalks laid, though 'twould cost me a +pretty penny. We ought to set out trees. Them oil lamps on wooden posts +are a disgrace. I'd make every merchant paint the front of his buildings +on Main Street once a year, by law." + +"Well! What's the matter with a church?" demanded Hurley. "That is, if +we get that far." + +"It's absolutely no use. If one is built it won't be nothing but a +shack. It won't add anything to the importance of the town. No, I don't +approve. I'm disappointed in you, Joe." + +"All right--all right!" cried Joe in some heat. "But I'm not disappointed +in you, old-timer. Great saltpeter! I wonder what you did before you +drifted into Canyon Pass that a parson and religion are likely to bring +fresh into your memory." + +With this backhand slap at the banker, the young man went out. It was +rather odd that Joe Hurley, like Bill Judson, should suspect the +Passonians of the same secret reason for not desiring a spiritual +refreshment of the town. But then, both the storekeeper and the owner of +the Great Hope were observant of human nature and knew Canyon Pass and +its inhabitants very well. + +Joe Hurley's proposal was rattling the dry bones. If he saw two men +conversing on the street, with both their arms and whiskers waving in +the breeze, he might be sure the topic under discussion was the coming +of "that gospel-sharp Joe Hurley's sicked on to us." + +If two housewives met in midflight between store and store in the course +of a forenoon's shopping, the principal subject of gossip was bound to +be the possibility of a parson settling in Canyon Pass. Nor did the +feminine opinion always march with that of Mother Tubbs. + +In spite of the emancipation of the sex and its introduction to the high +office of the ballot, the women of the mining town were--like women +everywhere--considerably influenced by the expressed opinions of their +husbands, brothers, and sons. If Charlie Raidlaw, who dealt faro for +Boss Tolley, or Phin Shattuck, one of Colorado Brown's "gentlemanly +mixers," gave it as his opinion that a white-liveried, lily-handed +parson was going to be a pest in the town and sure to hurt business, +Mrs. Charlie and Sue Shattuck, Phin's sister, were pretty sure to scout +the idea that a parson in the Pass would be any improvement. + +"It's needed," Rosabell Pickett announced with conviction. Rosabell +played the piano in the Grub Stake, painted her face like a Piute +Indian, dressed as gaudily as a circus poster, and was the only employee +Boss Tolley had who really was not afraid of him. In fact, Rosabell was +not afraid of any man and had small respect for most; she was frank in +saying so. A girl can be a piano player in a honkytonk and be long on +self-respect. Rosabell approved of herself--quite. + +"It's needed," repeated Rosabell. "I wish he'd preach in the street out +there, just stir up the people till they was with him, every one, and +then march in here with an ax and smash every hootch bottle behind your +bar, Tolley--that's what I wish." + +"You're crazy, Rosie!" cried the proprietor of the Grub Stake. "I'd +hafter go a-gunnin' for any man that tried to smash up my business +thataway, and that wouldn't make the Grub Stake friends. You oughtn't to +bite the hand that feeds you, Rosie. If it wasn't for the Grub Stake--and +me--you wouldn't be wearin' rhinestone shoebuckles." + +"Is that so?" countered the young woman. "You needn't worry none about +my biting your hand 'nless you keep it washed oftener than is your +present habit. And I want you to know that I don't sell my opinions when +I take the Grub Stake's pay-envelope--not much!" + +"Well, I wanter see that dratted parson come in yere!" said Tolley +blusteringly. + +"He won't come alone," put in Hurley, who had been listening at the bar +to the argument. + +"Huh?" + +"I say he won't come in here alone. I might as well serve notice here +and now that this Parson Hunt is a friend of mine. I don't never aim to +throw a friend down or fail him when he gets into a jam. If he comes in +here--for any purpose, Tolley--I'll likely be with him." + +"You keep him out o' yere! You keep him out!" blustered the other. "We +don't want no sky pilots here in the Pass. Anyway, I won't have 'em in +the Grub Stake." + +A burly fellow in overalls and riding boots broke in. He had already +sampled Tolley's red-eye more deeply than was wise. + +"You say the word, boss," he growled, "and we'll run the preacher out o' +town." + +Joe Hurley looked at the ruffian coldly. "You won't run anybody out of +town, Hicks--not any," the mine owner said. "But I'll tell you something +that may be worth your attention. If Canyon Pass ever gets up on its +hind legs and reares and starts to run certain tramps and ne'er-do-wells +out of town, I'm ready to lay a bet with any man that you'll be right up +in the forefront of them that are chased out. Get me?" + +Hicks, scowling, dropped his hand to the gunbutt peeping above the +waistband of his overalls. Joe Hurley did not flicker an eyelash nor +move a finger. Finally Hicks lurched away with an oath and went out +through the swinging doors. + +"And that's that," said Rosabell briskly, cutting the tense chord of +silence. "I always did say the more of a boozer a man is, the quicker +he'll take water. I hope your friend Mr. Hunt, Joe, has got backbone +same as you have. Is he an old gentleman?" + +"Not so you'd notice it," replied Hurley with a sudden grin. + +He remained awhile to bandy repartee with Rosabell and some of the other +idlers. But Boss Tolley slipped out of the honkytonk, although he did +not follow Hicks. + +Mulligan Lane ran at the rear of the stores, saloons, and other +amusement places facing this side of Main Street. Colorado Brown's +cabaret was not far from Tolley's rear door. It was dusk of rather a +sultry day--a day that had forecast the heat of the approaching summer. + +Tolley lounged under the withered cottonwood behind Brown's +dance-pavilion. The sign of the flood's highwater mark--that flood of +twenty years before--had been cut by some idle knifeblade deep into the +bole of the tree high over Tolley's head, and he was a tall man. A +sallow-faced, bony giant of a man was Tolley, hairy and brawny, without +a redeeming feature in his cruel countenance. Had he not possessed, in +the memorable words of Bill Judson, "a wishbone where his backbone +should have been," Boss Tolley would have been a very dangerous man. +Lacking personal courage he depended upon the backing of men like Hicks +and his bouncer, Macpherson. + +He slouched now under the tree and waited--a sullen lump of a figure +whose dark garments blended with the shadowy trunk as the night fell. +The small figure coming up the slope of the lane approached the back +door of Colorado Brown's place without seeing the man until almost +within arm's length. + +"Hey, Nell!" She started, looked up, stepped back a pace. "Don't be +scare't of me." + +"Don't flatter yourself, Tolley," replied the girl curtly. + +"I want to speak with you." + +"I don't want to speak to you." + +"Say--listen! You ain't treating me right. You walked out and left me +flat. You didn't even ask me for a raise. How'd you know I wouldn't give +you as much as Brown does?" + +"I didn't want to know. I got through. You didn't have any hold on me, +Tolley." + +"Mebbe not. Mebbe I have. You better listen," for the girl was turning +scornfully away. "You and Dick played it low down on me." + +Now she gave him her full attention. It was so dark under the tree that +he could not see her face clearly, but he knew some sudden emotion shook +her. To himself he grinned. + +"I got to admit my losing you and Dick has put a crimp in the Grub +Stake's business. You was my best performer, and Dick Beckworth was the +best card-sharp I had. Looker here! You come back to the Grub Stake +and--and I won't say nothing more." + +"What do you mean?" She had almost instantly gained control of herself. +"You can say all you like. I am never going to sing in your joint +again." + +"You ain't?" + +"No." + +"You better think again." His voice was grim, menacing. "I can say +something you won't like to hear." + +"Say it." She spat the command out as boldly as was her usual speech; +but in her heart sudden fear fluttered like a netted bird. + +"I been tellin' them Dick Beckworth lit out for Crescent City, and that +I heard later he was dealing 'em in Denver." + +"Dick Beckworth?" gasped the girl. + +"Yeppy. I told 'em that. But I know derned well he didn't ride north +that day----" + +"Why do you speak to me of Dick Beckworth?" + +She tried to say it boldly, calmly. She stared at him in the dusk, her +figure tense. He could see her blue eyes gleam like twin sapphires. + +"I'm telling you. Listen," whispered Tolley hoarsely. "I could show 'em +the bones of Dick's hoss in the gravel below the Overhang--right at the +edge of Runaway River. I got his saddle right now in my big safe. What +do you say to that?" + +"Dick----" + +"I reckon you know how the hoss and the saddle went over the cliff. And +Dick was with 'em. He wasn't with 'em when I raked out the saddle. Dick +had gone to some place a dern sight more distant than Crescent City--nor +yet Denver." + +She was silent. He could hear her quick, labored breathing. Satisfaction +fired all the mean soul of the man. + +"You think it over, Nell." + +He turned and lurched heavily away. The girl stood rooted to the place, +more shaken, more terrified, than even Boss Tolley suspected. He was out +of sight before she gained strength to move. + + + + +CHAPTER VI--THE APPROACH + + +In fairylike traceries the tiny drops of a mist-like rain embroidered +the broad pane of the Pullman. Betty Hunt gazed through this at the +flying fields and woods, the panorama of the railroad fences, and the +still nearer blur of telegraph poles with that hopeless feeling a +sentenced prisoner must have as he journeys toward the prison pen. + +Everything she cared for save her brother, everything she knew and that +was familiar to her daily life, every object of her thought and +interest, was being left behind by the onrush of the train. Time, with a +big besom, was sweeping her quiet past into the discard--she felt it, she +knew it! They would never go back to Ditson Corners again, or to Amberly +where they had lived as children with Aunt Prudence or to any similar +sanctuary. + +That was what Betty had most longed for since her last term at boarding +school, which had ended for her so abruptly with the death of her Aunt +Prudence Mason. Her last previous journey by train had been that somber +one to the funeral. When Betty and her brother had later moved to the +Ditson Corners' parsonage they had done so by motor. + +The drumming of the wheels over the rail-joints kept time with the +swiftly flying thoughts of the girl. She lay in the corner of the broad, +tan plush seat like a crumpled flower that had been carelessly flung +there. Thoughts of that last train journey seared her mind in hot +flashes, as summer lightnings play about the horizon at dusk. + +First one thing, then another, she glimpsed--mere jottings of the +happenings that had gone before the hurried good-byes at school and the +anxious trip homeward. These remembrances now were like the projection +of a broken film upon the moving picture screen. + +And those trying, anxious weeks which followed the funeral while Ford +was completing his divinity course and received his ordination and which +came to an end with his selection as pastor of the First Church at +Ditson Corners! All through these weeks was the dull, miserable pain of +disillusion and horror that Betty must keep to herself. She could not +tell Ford. She could tell nobody. What had happened during the last few +weeks at school was a secret that must be buried--buried in her mind and +heart as deeply as Aunt Prudence was buried under the flowering New +England sod. + +Betty, with her secret, was like a hurt animal that hides away to die or +recover of its wound as nature may provide. She could not die. She knew +that, of course, from the first. Time, she felt, would never erase the +scar upon her soul; but the wound itself must heal. + +All that--that which was now such a horror in her thought--she had hoped +to bury deeper as time passed. She had devoted herself to her brother's +needs. She had made his comfort her constant care. Busy mind and busy +hands were her salvation from the gnawing regret for that secret +happening that she believed must wither all her life. + +Now this sudden and unlooked for change had come to shake up all her +fragile plans like the shifting of a kaleidoscope. They were going West, +toward the land she hated, toward people whom, she told herself, she had +every reason to suspect and fear. Why had Ford kept up his +correspondence with that Joe Hurley? Betty did not blame her brother for +wishing to get away from Ditson Corners. But why need it have been that +Westerner who offered the soul-sore minister the refuge that he so +gladly accepted? + +Betty, without a clear explanation, had no reason to oppose to Hunt's +desire for a change that would satisfy him. And such explanation she +would have died rather than have given him! She was swept on toward the +West, toward whatever fate had in store for her, like a chip upon a +current that could not be stemmed. + +Aunt Prudence had left her money--conservatively invested--to Betty; but +she was not to touch the principal until she was thirty. "If the girl +marries before that age, no shiftless man can get it away from her," had +been the spinster's frank statement in her will. "If she is foolish +enough to marry after that age, it is to be hoped she will then have +sense at least regarding money matters." The brother had a small nest +egg left from his father's estate after paying his college and divinity +school expenses. + +So they were not wholly dependent upon Hunt's salary. He could afford to +take a vacation, and it was on this ground--the need of rest--that he had +resigned from the pulpit of Ditson Corners' First Church. They had left +some really good friends behind them in the little Berkshire town--some +who truly appreciated the young minister. But the clique against him had +shown its activity much too promptly to salve Hunt's pride. His +resignation had been accepted without question, and he had remained only +to see Bardell established in his place. + +Betty condemned herself that she could not enter whole-heartedly into +Hunt's high expectations of the new field that lay before him. It was +adventure--high adventure--to his mind. And why should a parson not long +for a bigger life and broader development as well as another healthy +man? + +He was going to Canyon Pass without a penny being guaranteed him. Joe +Hurley urged him to come; but he told him frankly that there would be +opposition. Certain Passonians would not welcome a parson or the +establishment of religious worship. + +But this opposition was that of the enemy. The Reverend Willett Ford +Hunt was not afraid of the devil in an open fight. Opposition in the +church itself was what had conquered him at Ditson Corners. Let the +phalanxes of wickedness confront him at Canyon Pass, he would stand +against them! + +Betty saw him coming back down the aisle of the car, smiling broadly, a +handsome, muscular figure of a man. He did not look the cleric. She had +been so used to seeing him in the black frock-coat and immaculate white +collar that she was at first rather shocked when he had donned another +suit to travel in. + +He was almost boyish looking. He was a big man, and she believed him +capable of big things. She could almost wish he had selected some other +road in life--although that thought was shocking to her, too. Ford might +well have been a business man, an engineer, a banker, a promoter. +Betty's ideas were somewhat vague about business life; but she felt sure +Ford would have shone in any line. She was a loyal sister. + +She shook herself out of the fog of her own thoughts and smiled up at +him. + +"Met a man in the smoking room who knows that country about Canyon Pass +like a book, Bet," Hunt said, dropping down beside her. "It really is a +part of the last frontier. We shall always be a pioneer people, we +Americans. There is something in the raw places of the earth that +intrigues us all--save the saps. And sap, even, hardens in such an +environment as this we are bound for." + +"I hope you will not be disappointed, Ford." + +"Disappointed? Of course I shall be disappointed and heart-sick and +soul-weary. But I believe my efforts will not be narrowed and +circumscribed and bound down by formalism and caste. As Joe says, I +won't be 'throwed and hog-tied.' The old-time revivalists used to urge +their converts to 'get liberty.' I'll get liberty out there, I feel +sure, in Canyon Pass." + +She could say nothing to dash his enthusiasm. It was too late for that +now, in any case. Betty even tried to smile. But her face felt as stiff +as though it were like to crack in the process. + +"All that territory of which Canyon Pass is the heart," pursued Hunt, +"has been phenomenally rich in ore in past time. They have to comb the +mines and sweep the hydraulic-washed benches very scientifically now to +make the game pay. Yet Canyon Pass is distinctly a mining town and +always must be. + +"My new acquaintance says it is really 'wild and woolly.'" He smiled +more broadly. "I fancy it is all Joe said it is. Crude, rude, +roughneck--but honest. If I can dig down to the honest heart of Canyon +Pass, Bet, I shall succeed. We'll not worry about first impressions, or +the lack of super-civilized conveniences, or the fact that men don't +often shave, and the women wear their hair untidily. Of course, I'll +make you as comfortable as possible----" + +"I can stand whatever you can, Ford," she interrupted with brisk +conviction. + +"Well," with a sigh of relief, "that's fine. Oh, Bet! This is the life +we're going to. I am sure you will be happier when you once get a taste +of it." + +But she made no reply. + + * * * * * + +When the two mountain-hogs, drawing and pushing the trans-continental +train up the grade, ground to a brief stop at Crescent City, Betty Hunt +was surprised to see brick office buildings, street cars, several +taxi-cabs at the station, paved streets, and the business bustle of a +Western city which always impresses the stranger with the idea that the +place is commercially much more important than it actually is. + +"This--this cannot be Canyon Pass?" she stammered to Hunt. + +"No." He laughed. "But here's Joe Hurley--bless him! Joe!" + +He shouted it heartily before dropping off the car step and turning to +help Betty. But Joe Hurley strode across the platform and playfully +shouldered the minister aside. + +"Your servant, Miss Betty!" the Westerner cried, sweeping off his +broad-brimmed hat in a not ungraceful bow. + +The girl from the East floated off the step into his arms. Joe set her +as lightly as a thistle-down upon the platform and somehow found her +free hand. + +"When Willie, here, told me you would come with him, Miss Betty, I +promised the boys at the Great Hope a holiday when you arrived. Great +saltpeter!" he added, stepping off to admire her from her rippling, +bistered hair to her silk stockinged ankles. "You sure will make the +boys sit up and take notice!" + +Here Hunt, having relieved himself of the hand-bags, got hold of +Hurley's hand and began pumping. The two young men looked into each +other's eyes over that handclasp. They had little to say, but much to +feel. Betty sighed as she looked on. Her last hope of quick escape from +the West went with that sigh. The handclasp and the look were like an +oath between the two young men to stand by each other. + +"Well, old sobersides!" said Joe. + +"Same old Joe, aren't you?" rejoined the minister. + +"Come on. We'll get your bags into a taxi and go up to the hotel," +Hurley said briskly. "I got rooms for you. We can't go on to the Pass +till eight o'clock to-morrow morning." + +"Is there but one train a day, Mr. Hurley?" Betty asked as he helped her +into the cab. + +"To Canyon Pass? Ain't ever been one yet," and he chuckled. "We go over +with Lizard Dan and the mail. Some day, when the roads are fixed up, we +may get motor service. Until then, a six-mule stagecoach has to serve." + +"Oh!" + +Hunt's eyes twinkled. "Break it to her gently, Joe," he advised. "Bet is +prepared to be very much shocked, I know. This frontier life is going to +be an eye-opener for her." + +"'Frontier life!'" snorted Hurley. "Why, we're plumb civilized. Bill +Judson has laid in a stock of near-silk hosiery and shirts with pleated +bosoms. Wait till you see some of the boys in holiday rig. Knock your +eye out, when it comes to style." + +Betty smiled. She did not mind being laughed at. Besides, the modern +appearance of Crescent City had somewhat relieved her apprehension. Even +the hotel was not bad. Their rooms were cheerful and clean, so she could +excuse the brand-new, shiny oak furniture and the garish brass beds. + +She did not dislike Joe Hurley--not really. It was only his influence +over Ford that she observed with a somewhat jealous eye. Although the +mining man seldom addressed her brother seriously, she realized that he +was fond of Ford. The latter was much the stronger character of the +two--she was sure of that. He would never be overborne in any essential +thing by the lighter-minded Hurley. But Ford admired the latter so much +that Betty felt her brother was likely to give heed to Hurley's advice +in most matters connected with this new and strange environment to which +they had come. + +"Bet is scared of the West and of you Westerners," Hunt said lightly. "I +don't know but what she expected you to have sprouted horns since she +saw you before, Joe." + +"Shucks!" chuckled the other. "We're mostly born with 'em out here, Miss +Betty. But they de-horn us before they let us run loose out o' the +branding pens. And remember, I spent two years in the effete East." + +"It never touched you," and Hunt laughed. "You're just as wild and +woolly as ever." + +The girl noted that Hurley was thoughtful of their every comfort. He +showed them the best of the town that day; but in the evening they +rested at the hotel and talked. The two men conversed while they smoked +in Hunt's room, with the door opened into Betty's. She heard the murmur +of their voices as she sat by her darkened window and looked out into +the electrically lighted main street of Crescent City. + +She was not at all thrilled by the novelty of the situation. She was +only troubled. + + * * * * * + + +Those strangers passing by! She saw a face in the throng but seldom as +the street lights flickered upon it. And always she was fearfully +expectant of seeing--What? Whom? She shuddered. + + + + +CHAPTER VII--THE FIRST TRICK + + +The high-springed stagecoach lurched drunkenly over the trail that wound +through a valley Betty thought gnomes might have hewn out when the world +was young. Barren, riven rock, gaunt, stunted trees, painted cliffs +hazed by distance, all added to a prospect that fell far short in the +Eastern girl's opinion of being picturesque. + +Rather, it was just what her brother had termed this Western +country--raw. Betty did not like any rude thing. She shrank instinctively +from anything crude and unfinished. + +The three--herself, her brother, and Joe Hurley--occupied the seat on the +roof of the plunging coach just behind the driver. "Lizard Dan" was an +uncouth individual both in speech and appearance. He was bewhiskered, +overalled, wore broken boots and an enormous slouched hat, and his hands +were so grimy that Betty shuddered at them, although they so skillfully +handled the reins over the backs of six frisky driving-mules. + +Lizard Dan, Hurley told the Easterners, had gained his nickname when he +was a pocket-hunter in a now far-distant day. He had been lost in the +desert at one time and swore when he came out that he had existed by +eating _Crotaphytus Wislizeni_ roasted over a fire of dry cacti--the +succulence of which saurian is much doubted by the Western white man, +although it is a small brother of the South American iguana, there +considered a delicacy. + +However, Dan acquired a nickname and such a fear of the desert thereby +that he became the one known specimen of the completely cured desert +rat. He never went prospecting again, but instead drove the stage +between Crescent City and Canyon Pass. + +"The boys expecting us at the Pass to-day, Dan?" Joe Hurley had asked +early in the journey. + +"Youbetcha!" + +"Got your gun loaded?" + +Dan kicked the heavy double-barreled shotgun at his feet and replied +again: + +"Youbetcha!" + +"Do--do wild animals infest the road?" Betty had asked stammeringly. + +"Not much," said Hurley. "But Dan carries a heap of registered mail in +which wild men, rather than wild animals, might be interested." + +"Youbetcha!" agreed Dan. + +Hurley glanced sideways at Betty's face, caught its expression, and +exploded into laughter. + +"You've come to 'Youbetcha Land,' Miss Betty," he said, when he could +speak again. + +"He is a character," chuckled Hunt on her other side. + +The suggestion of highwaymen stuck in the girl's mind. She looked from +Lizard Dan's weapon to the ivory butt of the heavy revolver pouched at +Joe Hurley's waist. These weapons could not be worn exactly for show--an +exhibition of the vanity of rather uncouth minds. It fretted her though +without frightening her, this phase of Western life. It was not the +possibility of gun-fights and brawls and the offices of Judge Lynch that +made Betty Hunt shrink from contact with this country and its people. + +The stagecoach mounted out of the valley--which might, Hunt said, have +been fittingly described by Ezekiel--and followed a winding trail through +the minor range of hills that divided Crescent City and its purlieus +from the Canyon Pass country. The coach pitched and rocked as though it +was a sea-going hack. + +In time they crossed the small divide and came down the watershed into +the valley of the East Fork. + +Borne to their ears on the breeze at last, through the sound of the +rumbling coach-wheels and the rattling trace-chains, was another noise. +A throbbing rhythm of sound with the dull swish of intermittent streams +of water. + +"The hydraulic pumps at the Eureka Washings," explained Hurley. "We'll +be in sight of them--and of Canyon Pass--before very long." + +The stagecoach lurched around a corner, and the raw, red bench of the +riverbank came into view. Steam pumps were noisily at work and men were +busy at the sluices into which the gold-bearing earth and gravel were +washed down from the high bank. + +Three great, brass-nozzled hydraulic "guns" were at work--each machine +straddled by a man in oil-skins and hip boots, who manipulated the heavy +stream of water that ate into the bank and crumbled it in sections. + +At the moment of their sighting the hydraulic washings across the river, +there was raised a wild, concerted shout from a point ahead. Out of a +hidden cove galloped a cavalcade of a dozen or more mounted men, who +swept up the road to meet the coach. + +For an instant Betty thought of the shotgun at Dan's feet and of +highwaymen. These coming riders waved guns and yelled like wild Indians. +But she saw a broad grin on Joe Hurley's face. + +"Here come some of the Great Hope boys," he explained. "Their idea of +'welcome to our city' may be a little noisy, but they mean you well, +Hunt." + +They came "a-shootin'," and Lizard Dan threw the long lash of his whip +over the backs of his six mules to force them through the cavalcade on +the gallop. + +Firing their guns and yelling, the riders on their wiry ponies +surrounding the coach as its escort, pounded down to the ford. Their +hullabaloo announced far in advance the approach of the coach to Canyon +Pass. + +In all its ugliness the mining camp was revealed. The gaze of the +Easterners was focused on its unpainted shacks and rutted streets. They +saw men, women, children, and a multitude of dogs running from all +points toward the main thoroughfare of the town. + +It was like a picture--not like anything real. Betty's dazed mind could +not accept this nightmare of a place as actually being the town to which +fate--and her brother's obstinacy--had brought them. Given an opportunity +right then, the girl would have failed her brother! She was in a mood to +desert him and return East as fast as she could travel. + +Joe Hurley grinned at her. She had begun almost to hate those twinkling +brown eyes of his with the golden sparks in them. He seemed to know just +what her feelings were and to enjoy her horror of the crudity which +assailed her on every hand. To her mind, Hurley was worse than his +associates, for he had enjoyed the advantages of some culture. + +The mules dashed into the shallows. Spray flew as high as the roof of +the coach. The mules settled into a heavier pace as they dragged the +vehicle up the farther bank and into the foot of Main Street. + +The crowd--a couple of hundred people of all ages--had gathered before the +Wild Rose Hotel. This stood opposite the bank and farther along the +street than the Three Star Grocery and Boss Tolley's Grub Stake. The +mules picked up their heels again under the cracking of Lizard Dan's +whiplash, and cantered up to the chief hostelry of Canyon Pass. The +yelling crew of horsemen--a bizarre committee of welcome indeed--rode +ahead, punctuating their vociferous clamor by an occasional pistol-shot. + +Betty caught sight of her brother's face. It was as broadly smiling as +was that of Joe Hurley! Actually Ford was enjoying this awful +experience. + +The moment Dan drew the mules to a halt, Hurley was half way to the +ground and turned on the step to help Betty down. She glanced timidly at +Hunt again. He was preparing to descend on the other side of the coach, +leaving her entirely to Hurley's care. + +Then occurred that incident which would ever be engraved upon Betty's +memory, and which marked indeed the coming of the Reverend Willett Ford +Hunt to Canyon Pass on the archives of the town's history in letters +that never would be effaced. + +As Hunt started to descend from the roof of the coach there sounded a +single pistol-shot and the hat he wore--a low-crowned affair, the single +mark of the cleric in his dress--sailed into the air with a ragged hole +through brim and crown. + +As the hat flew upward a fusillade of five more shots followed the +first, and the hat was torn to rags as it sailed over the roof of the +coach. The crowd roared--some in anger, but most in derision. The man +standing by the door of the Grub Stake reloaded his gun before putting +it away, grinning broadly. + +Hunt was startled; but his own smile did not fade. What was it Joe had +impressed so emphatically upon his mind? + +"It's the first impression that counts with Canyon Pass folks. Give 'em +the chance, and they'll laugh you out of town. And remember, they are +bound to judge you, Hunt, by their own standards." + +The young minister felt that the occasion was momentous. His usefulness +here in Canyon Pass might depend upon his action or comment in this +emergency. + +His nerves were perfectly steady. How was his _nerve_? He knew the man +who had shot the hat from his head was such a good shot that he had been +in no danger at all. + +But Hunt felt that something more was expected of him than the mere +ignoring of a rude and offensive act. He started across the road toward +the gunman. Those who stood in the way opened a lane for him with some +alacrity. The smiles upon the faces of those who moved stiffened. +Something extraordinary, something they had not at all expected, was +about to happen. + +Hicks, slouching against the front of the Grub Stake, came to sudden +attention. His fingers crooked, creeping toward the butt of his gun +again. Every atom of the ruffian's courage--such as it was--lay in that +weapon. Without it--and its leaden death--he was a sheep for bravery! + +Smiling still Hunt reached him. The parson's steady gaze held that of +Hicks as the human eye is said to hypnotize the gaze of all wild beasts. +Hicks, however, was not wild. Not now. Not so you could notice it! + +"Brother," Hunt said cheerfully, "you've spoiled my hat. It's the only +hat I've got with me until my trunks come in by freight. You've had your +fun, and it's only fair you should pay for it." + +The expression of Hicks' face sunk into a sneer. He thought the +white-livered parson was trying to get money from him for the hat. He +must indeed be a "softie." + +Then Hunt's hands moved suddenly, swiftly. In a flash he had snatched +the broad-brimmed hat from Hicks' head and placed it on his own, + +"Turn about is fair play, don't you think?" said the parson, and without +waiting for a reply he turned on his heel and went back across the +street! + +The silence that had fallen on the crowd had been of that tense, +strained quality that portended tragedy. Had Hunt showed offense at the +trick played upon him and struck Hicks, the latter would have used his +gun without mercy. And scarcely could a jury have been impaneled in +Canyon Pass that would have convicted the ruffian. + +But of a sudden, a roar of laughter rose from the crowd. They rocked +with it, beating their knees, holding their sides, laughing with +wide-open mouths and streaming eyes. Nor was the comical appearance of +Hicks' dilapidated hat crowning the parson's otherwise impeccable outfit +all that spurred Canyon Pass to such wild cachinnation. + +The strident laughter was aimed at the chagrined gunman. Hicks knew it. +The broad back of the parson offered a sure target; but he knew better +than to draw his gun a second time. Instead he turned away, hatless, and +sought sanctuary in the Grub Stake. + +Hunt had taken the first trick in this game he had "set into." And +Canyon Pass to a man admired a shrewd gambler. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII--A FLOWER IN THE MIRE + + +Had Betty Hunt not had Joe Hurley to steady her as she came down from +the roof of the stagecoach to the ground in the midst of the crowd, she +never could have stood upright through that scene! The sight of her +brother's hat flying overhead, the target of Hicks' six-gun, led her to +believe that Hunt was in peril--deadly peril. + +She wanted to beg Hurley to run to her brother's rescue, but her tongue +clove to the roof of her mouth. What followed utterly appalled her. She +verily believed that Hunt took his life in his hands when he approached +and browbeat the bad man! + +But as she heard the boisterous laughter of the crowd and saw the +strange hat flapping about the Reverend Willett Ford Hunt's ears, Betty +became suddenly angry. + +"Take off that horrid hat, Ford!" she cried when the parson joined them. +"I beg of you, take it off at once." + +"Don't do it, Willie," interposed Hurley. "Let it be. No crown of glory +you may earn will ever so become you. Continue to wear it, Reverend, and +not a soul in Canyon Pass will ever laugh at _you_, if they do at the +hat. It will remind 'em that you're an honest-to-goodness he-man." + +Hunt smiled deprecatingly. "You make too much of it, Joe. Don't worry, +Betty, about the hat. I might as well keep the joke up a little while." + +"'Joke!'" she groaned. + +Hurley slapped Hunt resoundingly on the shoulder. "You're all right, +Willie!" + +This turned Betty against him all the more. It was so uncouth she +thought on Hurley's part and so undignified on her brother's. With all +these people looking on, grinning and gaping, was that the way to gain +respect for a clergyman and for his work? + +"Well, let's go into the Wild Rose and get you settled," Hurley said +with that cordiality that did much, after all, to disarm Betty's +criticism. "I told 'Cholo' Sam and Maria to clean up some rooms for you +and try and make things halfway decent. But I don't know. This isn't +like the hotel at Crescent City." + +The statement was not conducive to Betty's peace of mind. The sordidness +and squalor of Canyon Pass was being from moment to moment etched more +deeply on her brain. They mounted the steps of unplaned boards and +crossed the porch that shook even under Betty's light tread. Unpainted +walls, uncarpeted stairs, and not altogether clean floors met her gaze +as they entered the hostelry. + +If Hunt was appalled by the rudeness of their surroundings he very +successfully hid his real feelings. He had spent vacations in the +hunting and fishing camps of Maine and Quebec. The lack of even the +ordinary conveniences of civilized life could not in any case trouble +him as it did his gently nurtured sister. + +He did, however, on this first evening arrange to have their supper +served in Betty's room, rather than forcing her to eat in the general +dining-room of the hotel. But he explained that they could not thus +segregate themselves in the future. + +"It wouldn't do, Betty. I must mix with these people--show myself willing +to be one of them in ordinary ways. Respect for the cloth cannot be won +among these open-hearted folk by finnicky manners. I must be one of +them. I must show them that I am a man as well as a preacher." + +She could not agree; but at least she was wise enough not to oppose--at +this time--his evident acceptance of Joe Hurley's advice. She saw in the +latter more clearly than ever a dangerous ally for her brother. + +Hunt's abundant cheerfulness--even over the coarse supper-fare and the +absence of napkins--closed his sister's lips even more firmly. The two +had come to Canyon Pass with diametrically opposed mental attitudes. +Hunt was prepared to accept things as they should find them, but nothing +in Canyon Pass, or about it or its inhabitants, could please Betty. + +As darkness fell the town grew noisier, for it was a Saturday night. +Betty, looking from her window, saw only flaring oil lamps and gasoline +torches illuminating the street. The men who passed up and down were +much rougher in appearance and of tongue than those she had watched +under similar circumstances in Crescent City. There were almost no women +in sight. + +Men spoke harshly, or shouted ribaldries to one another. Indeed, the +girl from the East scarcely understood the language they used. Miserably +she crept to bed. She had locked her door after her brother left her, +and she even dragged the pine washstand against it as a barricade. + +The Wild Rose Hotel itself was no quiet abode on this night. There was a +bar, and although it was at the other end of the house, the noise of the +shouting, the rude songs, the stamping and quarreling therein made Betty +shake in her bed until long after midnight. She had no idea that her +brother went to bed, fell asleep in a minute, and slept as peacefully as +a baby until almost sunrise. + +A Sabbath dawn could be as calm at Canyon Pass as at Ditson Corners. The +pearl-gray light of the new day washed the sleep from the Reverend +Willett Ford Hunt's eyes. He arose to lean on his elbow and gaze through +a window that, curtainless, looked out on Mulligan Lane. There were some +frowsy buildings within sight--evidently dwellings of a kind--but the +parson lifted his eyes to the hills feeling with the psalmist that +"whence cometh my strength." + +They stood--those hills--in serrated ranks from the far east to the point +where the sudden uplift of the canyon wall on that side of the river +closed the outlook. Even Old Graylock of his familiar Berkshires had not +the magnificence of these peaks. He was impressed again as he already +had been with the difference merely in size between these western hills +and the Berkshires, let alone the vast dissimilarity in their contour. + +The eminences of western Massachusetts for the most part slope away into +wooded and pastured ridges, which themselves melt into the lush +lowlands. Their crowns do not seem so imposing as these western peaks +because of their configuration. + +His window was open. Suddenly he became aware of voices below it at the +back of the hotel. + +Something was going on there--something that revealed the dregs of life +to be as mean and offensive here in Canyon Pass as they could be in any +place in the whole world. He heard the maundering tones of an +intoxicated man and--sharply contrasted--the voice of a woman. + +"Get up, Sam, and come home." + +"Hic! Won't go home till mawnin'--till mawnin'--hic--doth 'pear." + +"Well, morning's appearing all right, and it'll catch you here, +wallerin' like a hog in the lane. Come home with me." + +"No. I'm a man. I'm--hic!--independent, I am. I'll go hu-hu-home jest +whenever I please." + +"Now's the time to please me, Sam. Get up and come along." + +"Couldn't do it, gal. Couldn't think--hic!--of it. 'Twould be givin' up my +indepen--dic!--dence. I'm--I'm my own master. Leastways, I am on Sunday +when the mine's shut down. Here I stand----" + +"But you don't stand!" ejaculated the woman's voice sharply. "And I +don't believe you can." + +The inebriated man gave no heed to this challenge. "Here I stand," he +repeated. "'On Jordan's bank I take my stand, and cast a--hic!--cast a +wishtful eye'----" + +"More'n likely you'll cast a shoe and won't get home at all, if I can't +start you," complained the woman's voice. + +Hunt had risen and was scrambling into the more necessary articles of +his apparel. He went to the window and looked down into the lane. + +There was an overturned box just below the window and slouched down upon +it was a withered, baldheaded man whose frayed whiskers and untrimmed +hair made him look a deal like an inebriated monkey. There was nothing +humorous looking in this specimen of fallen humanity to the mind of the +parson. He could only pity his case. + +But it must be confessed the other person engaged in the colloquy gained +Hunt's interest and held it at once. + +She was small, lissome, of a vigorous figure and vastly more attractive +to his eye than any girl he had ever looked at. Indeed, he was amazed to +see such a really beautiful creature in such squalid surroundings. + +"Get up and come home with me," said the girl again. "What will Mother +Tubbs say when she sees you?" + +"Heh? I reckon I better stay yere," was the reply. "Man can't keep +his--hic!--dignity when a great walrus of a woman throws him 'round like +he was a sack of spuds. I tell you, gal, I made a great mistake in +marryin' that woman." + +"It was a great mistake for her--that's a fact," was the sharp rejoinder. +"You got so many failings I don't see how Mother Tubbs remembers 'em all +when she prays for you. Ugh! You men! There ain't a one of you I'd give +a hoot in a rain-water barrel for. Get up!" + +The girl again tried to drag him to his feet. Sam Tubbs merely fell over +sideways and sprawled helpless upon the ground. + +Hunt, without his coat or vest, but grabbing up the flap-brimmed hat he +had secured from the gunman the evening before, opened his door, ran +down the back stairway of the hotel, and made his way quickly into the +lane. As he appeared before Nell Blossom, standing over the now +slumbering drunkard, he looked anything but the cleric. + +"Can I be of help?" he asked. + +"You can't help me none, mister," replied Nell brusquely. + +"I scarcely think you need help," said Hunt, smiling. "But this +unfortunate----" + +"'Unfortunate' is right!" repeated the girl. "Sam Tubbs is so +unfortunate that it would be money right now in his pocket if he'd never +been born. If I leave him here some of those cheap hangers-on of the +Grub Stake or Colorado's place will roll him for all he has in his +jeans. And Mother Tubbs needs what he's got left of his pay--believe me!" + +"Where does he live?" + +"Where I do. Down the lane a ways." + +"I think we can get him there," said Hunt, and without further ado he +stooped, got a grip on Sam Tubbs, and proceeded to throw him over his +shoulder like a sack of meal. + +The girl's eyes grew round. For the first time she expressed some +appreciation--perhaps a little admiration--for his friendliness. + +"You wasn't behind the door when they were passing out muscle," she +remarked. "Well, come on. I'll show you the way." + +The now slumbering Sam Tubbs was scarcely a heavy burden, and to Hunt +the task of carrying him was slight. He was considerably amused as well +as interested in the girl. It was quite apparent that she did not know +he was the new parson. Evidently she had not been in the crowd the day +before that had welcomed the coming of the tenderfoot preacher and his +sister to Canyon Pass. + +Hunt was studying her face now with more than amusement, although her +bluff manner of speech and utterly independent air made Nell Blossom a +revelation of a new phase of femininity to him. Her speech, in the first +place, did not accord with her beauty, nor, indeed, with the natural +refinement expressed in her countenance. + +She certainly was a lovely girl! In the early morning light her light +brown hair seemed threaded all through the mass of it with strands of +gold. Her eyes were the blue of a mountain lake--but with ice in their +depths. Their gaze, as it was turned on Hunt, was utterly impersonal. + +Her peachy complexion as well, offset by dark brows and red lips, +aroused Hunt's admiration for its sheer beauty. Brown-gold hair, blue +eyes, petite and lissome figure--when had such description of a girl +caught in the cogs of his memory? Somewhere lately he had seen, or heard +described, such a sprite of a girl as this. + +She was dressed plainly enough in serviceable corduroy--short skirt, +blouse, broad-brimmed hat, high laced boots. A crimson scarf was knotted +under the collar of her blouse. She wore no ornament. + +Nell did not say much during that brief walk. Not that she was at all +timid or bashful; but she seemed to feel no particular interest in this +young man who had put himself out to help Sam Tubbs. + +For her own part she considered Sam a nuisance. She had no use for the +old reprobate. It was solely for Mother Tubbs' sake that she had +bothered herself with regard to Sam. Finding him drunk--as usual--on her +way home from Colorado Brown's place early on this Sunday morning, she +had tried to get him home without realizing at first that Sam was quite +so far gone in liquor as he was. + +As for this man who walked by her side, carrying so easily the +insensible Sam, Nell did not question who he was. That he was a +stranger--possibly a traveling salesman, or "drummer"--perhaps a mining +man, she believed, if she thought of him at all. As Hunt suspected, she +did not for a moment identify him as the parson Joe Hurley had brought +to Canyon Pass. In any event she could not have imagined the Reverend +Willett Ford Hunt as this sort of person. + +They turned abruptly into another narrow alley and came to the front of +the Tubbs' shack. The yard, fenced by pickets of barrel-staves, was +neatly kept and there was an attempt at a flower bed on either side of +the walk. Mother Tubbs usually punished Sam for his sin of drunkenness, +after he had slept off his potations, by making him weed the tiny +gardens and rake the path. These penitential activities kept the Tubbs +premises spick and span. + +Nell led the way imperturbably around to the back door of the shack. +This door was open and a thin blue haze--odorous and appetizing--floated +out of the kitchen. + +"Just getting a nice breakfast for you, honey," said Mother Tubbs, +filling the doorway and seeing Nell first of all. "Now, if only Sam +would come along--Is _that_ Sam? He ain't dead, is he?" + +"Only dead drunk," said Nell in scorn. + +"Where shall I put him?" asked Hunt quietly. + +"Well, I reckon it don't much matter. You can drop him down anywhere, +mister. I'll fetch a dish-pan o' water and sluice him down when I get a +chance. But I can't let them cakes sp'ile." Then she saw and recognized +the parson's face, for Mother Tubbs had been at the Wild Rose Hotel the +day before when the stagecoach had arrived. "Goodness me! I declared, +Mister--er--Brother Hunt, this _is_ good of ye." + +Nell stared. The note of respect in Mother Tubbs' voice revealed in a +flash Hunt's identity to the cabaret singer. + +"I am sartain sure obliged to you," went on the old woman. "Nell Blossom +never could have got him home alone." Hunt had lowered her husband to a +seat on the porch floor and propped his back against a post. "Sleeping +like a baby, ain't he? Well, he can stay thataway till after Nell has +her breakfast." + +Hunt was not giving her his attention. The name "Nell Blossom" had +revealed to him instantly the familiarity of the girl's description. +This was the golden-haired, blue-eyed, high-spirited beauty Joe Hurley +had written about--the girl who could really sing. + +They stared at each other while the old woman went back to her cakes. +Nell was obviously shifting the gears of her opinion about this +stranger. He, a parson? No lunger, this husky six-footer! + +"Mebbe you ain't acquainted," Mother Tubbs said, bustling back from the +stove. "Nell Blossom is a-living with me and has been doing so--off and +on--for more than three years. Ever since her pa, old Henry Blossom, up +and died. She's a singer, Nell is--the sweetest you ever heard, Brother +Hunt. I'm hoping, when you get to holding meetings, that we can get her +to sing in the choir." + +Hunt bowed, smiling, to the girl. Her expression of countenance was no +less forbidding than before. She offered him no encouragement. + +"Won't you stop for breakfast with me and Nell, Brother Hunt?" went on +the hospitable old woman. "I always try to have something hot and tasty +for Nell when she comes home after her night's work." + +Nell started--was it angrily? She opened her lips to speak, then shut +them in a straight, red line. In any case, Hunt caught the significance +of her attitude of objection, had he been tempted to accept the old +woman's hearty invitation. + +"Not this morning, Mrs.--er--Tubbs, is it? Sister Tubbs? I am glad to have +met you." He met her huge hand with a warm clasp of his own. "When we +get started here, I am sure I can depend on your aid and good wishes?" + +"Youbetcha!" exclaimed the old woman. "And you'll see me in one of the +front seats--mebbe in two of 'em if they ain't bigger than usual," she +added with twinkling eyes. + +He laughed boyishly, lifting the dilapidated old hat to both Mother +Tubbs and the girl as he turned the corner of the shack. The old woman +looked down admonishingly at Nell Blossom. + +"You weren't a mite perlite to the minister, Nell," she complained. + + + + +CHAPTER IX--A BEGINNING + + +That eastern mountain range was all etched with rose color now as Hunt +went back to the hotel. But the town had scarcely quieted after its +night's revelry. Inebriates were still dribbling along the streets from +the all-night places. + +He thought of Nell Blossom. She certainly was a flower in the mire of +Canyon Pass. Joe Hurley had written none too enthusiastically about the +girl, as far as concerned her beauty. And although Hunt was by no means +given to impulsive judgments, he knew there was a refined atmosphere +about the girl despite her gruff independence of manner and speech. + +His return to the hotel was unheralded save by the cheerful grin of +Cholo Sam, the Mexican proprietor of the hostelry, who was sluicing out +the barroom. + +"Some morning, thees, Seor Hunt." He flashed a tentative, toothful +smile toward the array of bottles behind his bar. "Weel you have one +leetle drink, Seor? A 'pick-my-up,' you call eet, eh?" + +"Coffee, Sam," replied Hunt briskly, acknowledging the offer in the +spirit it was meant. "Coffee only--and perhaps a bit of bread with it. +Service for two, please. My sister will want some. Will you bring it +up?" + +"But surely, seor." He hesitated. "Ees eet the truth that the seor ees +a meenister--the padre? Si?" + +"Quite true, Sam. That is my business--my trade. And I have come here to +Canyon Pass hoping to exercise it." + +Hunt mounted to his room to find that Betty was already astir. She had +been into his room during his absence. One of the bags he had brought +upon the stagecoach had been opened and across the foot of the bed was +carefully laid his ordinary Sunday garments--frock-coat, high-cut +waistcoat, and narrow trousers of dead black sheen. + +With the outer garments was the stiff-bosomed white shirt--"boiled" Joe +Hurley would have designated its variety--the silk socks, with a pair of +low, gun-metal kid shoes set primly on the floor under the edge of the +bed. + +Ford Hunt looked at all these once--then again. He thought of what he had +been doing already on this Sunday morning. Then he burst into loud +laughter. + +Sunday afternoon when the weather was propitious was the time for social +intercourse in Canyon Pass. Those who had worked or played or had been +intoxicated the night before had slept off the effects of their +super-exertions for the most part. They came forth now shaved and in +clean garments and strolled to Main Street. + +It was still too early for the cabarets and gambling places to be open, +and even the saloon bars were somnolent save for the flies buzzing about +them or drunkenly crawling in the spilled beer. The pivotal point of the +town's rendezvous and gossip on Sunday afternoon was the Three Star +Grocery. In front of that old Bill Judson held forth between his +exertions of waiting on such customers as might claim his attention. + +"Dad burn it!" ejaculated Judson. "I bet Tom Hicks has crawled into his +hole and pulled the hole in after him. I should want to if I was him. +And you take it from me, boys, a parson that can do that to a bad actor +like Tom Hicks will make Canyon Pass sit up and take notice before he's +through." + +"It showed sand, I allow," agreed one of his hearers judiciously. "But +it's r'iled Boss Tolley all up and he swears the parson sha'n't stay." + +"You don't say!" drawled Judson sarcastically. "And who ever elected +Tolley to be boss of the Pass? If for no other reason, I'm strong for +this yere Reverend Hunt." + +"As a man--a reg'lar he-man--I'm for him, too," agreed another. "But I'm +thinkin' we can get along yere at Canyon Pass without much psalm-singing +and preaching." + +"Yeppy. You're right," declared a third of Judson's hearers. + +"Let alone that you're all wrong," put in Judson again with energy, +"let's look at the thing in a practical way, as the feller said. If a +man come in yere and opened a shoe shop or a candy pop or wanted to sell +shoestrings, we'd give him the glad hand, wouldn't we? 'Live and let +live,' has always been the motto of Canyon Pass, ain't it?" + +"What's that got to do with it, Bill?" + +"Why, you big gump! Ain't this parson got something to peddle? His stock +in trade is religion, and he's got just as much right to show goods and +try to drum up trade as the next one, ain't he? He's entitled to a fair +deal. And Boss Tolley, Tom Hicks, and them other highbinders can sulk in +their dens and suck their paws. I ain't never gone ironed since I opened +this shack, nigh thirty years ago. But I'll sling a gun on my hip and +act as bodyguard if it's necessary for any feller that ain't getting a +fair deal in this town. That's gospel!" + +"I never knowed ye was so all-fired religious, Bill," complained one of +his surprised hearers. + +"Religious!" retorted the storekeeper. "It ain't that I'm religious--not +so's you'd notice it. But I got a sense of fair play,--dad burn it! Here +comes the parson now, boys." + +Hunt and Joe Hurley came out of the Wild Rose Hotel. The minister had +not donned his clerical garments. He was dressed as he had been the day +before when he arrived on the stagecoach, except for the hat he wore. +That flopping-brimmed headgear which he had taken from Tom Hicks crowned +the parson's brush of crisp, dark hair. + +"Boys," said Hurley, when they came near, "meet Willie Hunt. He's one of +the best old scouts I met when I was East, that time I stood that +college on its head, like I told you. I reckon you know Willie is a real +man, if he _is_ a parson. Mr. Hunt, meet Jib Collins, Cale Mack, Jim +Tierney, and--last but not least--Bill Judson, who is the honored mentor +of this camp." + +"Whatever that is," and the storekeeper grinned, shaking hands in turn +with Hunt. "This yere Joe Hurley slings language at times that sartainly +stops traffic. He can't seem to get over it. It was wished on him when +he lived East that time he is always telling us about." + +Hunt knew how to meet these men--he was by nature a "good mixer." There +is much in the grasp of a hand, a steady look, an unafraid smile, that +recommends the stranger to such bold spirits. The timid, even the +hesitant, make no progress with them. + +"Parson," pursued Judson, "we was just discussin' your business as you +and Joe come along. In my opinion we need you yere at Canyon Pass. I'm +speakin' for myself alone," and he glared at the other men in the group +accusingly; "but I can't put it too strong. We need ye. To my mind +religion is a mighty good thing. We're loose livin', we're loose +talkin', and we need to be jacked up right smart. + +"You can count on me, parson, to back any play you make, clean across +the board. I'm for you, strong. We need meetin's started. We ought to +have a Sunday school for the young 'uns. We need to be preached at and +prayed with. I come of right strict Presbyterian stock, and when I was a +lad I was used to all the means of grace, I was." + +"You are interested, then, Mr. Judson, in any attempt we may make to +inaugurate services here on Sunday?" Hunt asked cheerfully. + +"Youbetcha!" was the hearty rejoinder. + +"Of course, Mr. Judson," Hunt pursued, "you understand that, to have +successful and helpful services, some of us at least must have the +spirit of service?" + +"Sure. That's what I tell 'em." + +"I take it from brief observation that this day--the Sabbath--is observed +very little at present in Canyon Pass?" + +"True as true," said the storekeeper. + +"To get people really interested in divine services on this day, don't +you think we should begin by making some difference--a real +difference--between the First Day and the other six?" Hunt continued, +eyeing Judson reflectively. "If we who are interested in the betterment +of the community are not willing to lead in this matter, those we wish +to help can scarcely follow. + +"Sunday should not be like the other six days of the week. Your mines +and gold washings shut down on this day. How about other secular +activities ceasing--as far as it may be possible?" + +"I--I reckon you're right, parson," Judson said, though with some +hesitation. "Of course, the boys have been used to having their freedom +on Sundays, and their fun. I don't believe you could go far in shutting +down the saloons and gambling tables--not right at first." + +"But would you go as far as you could personally to establish a better +standard of Sunday observance?" pursued Hunt. + +"Heh?" ejaculated the puzzled Judson. + +Hunt, still smiling, mounted the steps of the store, closed the door, +and turned the great key which had been left in the outside of the lock. +He removed the key and handed it to Bill Judson as he came down the +steps again. + +"Mr. Judson," he said in a perfectly unmoved voice, "if you will begin +by keeping that door locked on Sundays you will be leading the way in +this community toward a proper observance of the Lord's Day." + +Joe Hurley was on the point of bursting out laughing. But he thought +better of joining Collins, Mack, and Tierney in wild expressions of joy +at the old man's discomfiture. + +Judson's face turned from its usual weather-beaten tan to a purple-red. +His rheumy eyes sparked. Then slowly, reflectively, a grin wreathed his +tobacco-stained lips and crinkled the outer corners of his eyelids. + +"Parson," he said, thrusting out his hand again, "you're on! I'll show +these fellers I'm a good sport. Nobody was ever able to say honestly +that Bill Judson took water; and I won't give 'em the chance't to say it +now." + + + + +CHAPTER X--MUTTERINGS OF A STORM + + +It was Joe Hurley who saw Betty appear on the porch of the hotel. +Perhaps his gaze had been fixed in that direction for that very purpose. +It was a vision to draw the eyes of any man hungry for a picture of a +well-dressed and modest young woman. Betty Hunt was like nothing that +had ever before stepped out upon the Main Street of Canyon Pass. + +"Come on, Willie," urged Hurley, seizing the minister's sleeve. "You've +jarred Judson clean to bedrock. Spare him any more for now. Come on. +Your sister is waiting for us to take her to the Great Hope." + +Betty was not gaily appareled. Her frock was black and white, and so was +her hat. She still remembered Aunt Prudence's death--and that she was a +parson's sister! But it was the way the frock was made, and how it and +the hat became her that marked Betty as an object of approval, to the +male Passonians at least. + +"Such a beautiful day, Mr. Hurley," Betty ventured. "One might think it +a respectable country town if only one could forget last night." + +She stared at Hurley with accusation. He dropped his head sheepishly. +Somehow Betty Hunt put the matter as though it were his fault! + +"We're going to change all that in time," said Hunt cheerfully. "These +people are not so bad, Betty----" + +"That they couldn't be worse? Yes, I know," retorted his sister. + +"Why, Betty!" murmured Hunt, "isn't that a bit uncharitable?" + +"I have no thought for charity in a place like this," declared the girl. +"Such dirt, vileness and disorder I never dreamed of! These people are +not even human! I cannot excuse them. No branch of the human family +could possibly be ignorant enough for us to excuse what I have already +seen about me in Canyon Pass." + +"Great saltpeter!" murmured Hurley. + +"You did not tell my brother the half of it!" she cried, flaring at the +mining man. "You hid the worst. You only said things in your letters +that you knew would attract him here." + +Joe Hurley started back a step. If a kitten he had stooped to pet had +suddenly turned and gouged him with its claws he could have been no more +startled. + +But Betty Hunt proved herself no kitten. She was usually a very +self-contained and quite unexcited young woman. It was only for a minute +that she allowed her anger to flame out. + +"Now, that's enough about that," she pursued, still with a frown. "The +thing is done. We are here. I do not believe that Ford will ever be +happy in Canyon Pass; and I know I shall not." + +"Better not speak so positively, Bet," said Hunt coolly. A brother +seldom is much impressed by his sister's little ruffles of temper. "You +may have to change your opinion. My belief is that none of us can find +happiness in a new environment. We must take the happiness with us to +any new abode." + +Hurley was much subdued during their walk through the town. His +knowledge of girls like Betty was very slight. He had never had a sister +and he could not remember his mother. + +Even girls like Nell Blossom had not been frequent events in the mining +man's life. His two years spent in the East had been almost as barren of +feminine society as his years in the West. + +Now, it must be confessed, Betty Hunt had "got him going," to quote his +own thought in the matter. Not that Hurley was of a fickle temperament. +But he was not a man to eat his heart out in an utterly impossible +cause. + +Nell had shown him plainly that she had no use for him save as an +acquaintance. He could not even count himself her friend now, for since +her return from Hoskins she had seemed more remote from the men of +Canyon Pass than ever before. + +So, Joe Hurley had already put Nell out of his mind in that way before +Betty Hunt had appeared on the scene. And, it seemed, he was fated to be +attracted by a distant star. The minister's sister was distinctly of +another world--and a world far, far above that of Canyon Pass, Hurley +told himself. + +It was not Betty's finnicky ways, as her brother bluntly called them, +that held the girl from the East so dear in Joe's eyes. It was in spite +of her disapproval of Canyon Pass and all that lay therein. The mining +man was deeply interested in the development of the camp. He had done +much in a business way to improve conditions here. He hoped to do more. + +He had quite realized that the place needed something besides modern +business methods to raise it out of the slough in which it wallowed as a +community. This realization, shared with such people as Bill Judson and +old Mother Tubbs, had led Hurley to interest the Reverend Willett Ford +Hunt in Canyon Pass. He foresaw the camp in time as well governed a +place as Crescent City. + +Betty's scorn and vituperation regarding the shortcomings of the Pass +actually pained Hurley. Was it so bad as she seemed to think it was? +This girl from the East was very positive in her dislike for the place +and its people. + +Then he looked over her head at the quietly smiling face of Hunt. He did +not seem to share his sister's opinion that the Pass was beyond +redemption. There was, after all, a quality of sanity and stability +about Hunt that bolstered Hurley's hope. + +"That boy is all right," thought Hurley finally. "He sees things with a +clear eye. And our crudeness doesn't scare him. His sister----Well! what +could you expect of a pretty, fluffy little thing like her? This place +is bound to look rotten to her at the first. But at that, she may change +her opinion." + +In fact, Joe Hurley had determination enough to believe that he was just +the chap who could change these opinions of Betty Hunt! His non-success +with Nell Blossom had not convinced him that he would never be able to +attract other girls. + +Right at the start Joe had been enamored of the fragile beauty of the +parson's sister. Hers was not the robust, if petite, prettiness of Nell +Blossom. It was a beauty of spirit and character that looked out of +Betty's gray eyes. Her very calmness and primness intrigued the mining +man. + +Opposite is attracted by opposite. Because he was so open and hearty +himself, Hurley admired the daintiness and delicacy of Betty. Her +primness, even her shrinking from the things to which he was so used in +and about Canyon Pass, pleased the young man in a way. + +Here was just the sort of girl he desired to establish in his home--a +real home--when he got one. Joe Hurley did not propose to live in a +bachelor shack in the purlieus of Canyon Pass all his life--by no means! +He was getting on. The Great Hope was panning out well. It had every +promise of being a big thing in time. He was going to be rich. Betty +Hunt would grace the head of the table of a millionaire--wear the clothes +a prince might buy for his wife--hold the respect and admiration that the +highest lady in the land might claim. + +"I've got to have that girl," thought Hurley. "And I'm going after her!" + +They climbed the steep road of rolled rock to the highland overlooking +the town and giving them a view to the first turn of the canyon bed of +Runaway River. When the squalid sight of Canyon Pass could be shut out +of the mind, even Betty admitted that the dimming light in the canyon +lent a fairylike charm to all its ruggedness. It was a slot made by +giants in the hills without doubt. She expressed a desire to see more of +it. + +"I'll get you a good cayuse," said Hurley eagerly. "Got any riding duds +with you?" + +"I have my habit in one of my trunks." + +The Westerner looked at her doubtfully. "Don't know about long skirts +flapping around the legs of these Western critters----" + +"Habits are not made with skirts nowadays, Mr. Hurley," Betty +interrupted coldly. "Fashion--even in the Fenway--demands that the +feminine riding suit shall be mannish." + +"Oh! If you ride astraddle," replied Hurley, without realizing that his +phrase shocked her, "we can find you a horse that will fill the bill. +I've got one that I ride myself, and I can pick up one for Willie." + +"Most agreeable to me, I'm sure," agreed the parson. "I can ride after a +fashion. Bet got her training at boarding school. If Aunt Prudence knew +all her niece got at that institution the dear old lady would have been +shocked." + +Betty did not smile. There were things that had happened to her at +boarding school that Ford knew nothing about. His words aroused in her +mind the carking memory of the secret that had changed Betty Hunt's life +completely--the secret that had killed all the sparkle and winsome +lightness in the girl's nature. She became silent and after that only +listened to the talk of the two young men. + +Not that she was not interested as they went on and Hurley pointed out +the several claims being worked with the most modern methods of the +Oreode Company, and the Nufall Syndicate, and by himself and his +associates at the Great Hope. This mining business was all new to the +girl, and she had an inquiring mind. She did not shrink at all, when +Hurley suggested a descent into the shaft and produced slickers and +rubber boots and tarpaulins to put on over their clothes. + +The man in charge let them down in the bucket, and a gasoline torch +showed them all that there was to see under the surface. Hurley +explained with pride how he had found and developed the first paying +lead in the Great Hope, but that the name of the mine foreshadowed a +much richer vein that he was confident was soon to be opened. Science +and that "sixth sense" of the miner assured him that the big thing was +coming. + +"We're always looking toward El Dorado, we miners," he said with a +laugh. "It's hope that keeps us up." + +"'El Dorado'--the hoped-for land," repeated Betty softly. And then, +standing there in the flickering radiance of the torch, she repeated, +while the men were silent, that concluding paragraph of Robert Louis +Stevenson's essay: + + "'O toiling hands of mortals! O unwearied feet, traveling ye know + not whither! Soon, soon it seems to you, you must come forth on some + conspicuous hilltop and, but a little way further, against the + setting sun, descry the spires of El Dorado. Little do ye know your + own blessedness, for to travel hopefully is a better thing than to + arrive, and the true success is to labor.'" + +"Amen," Hunt commented seriously. + +"You said it," agreed the mining man with that bluff emphasis that did +not shock Betty so much now as it might at the beginning. "That's what +keeps me going. Stevenson knew what he was writing about. But, we would +have considered him a weakling out here, I am afraid. We are inclined to +judge everything here in terms of muscle and brawn." + +"But it has been your brains, Joe, not your brawn, that has carried you +so far in this work," Hunt declared warmly. + +Hurley sighed as they went back to the shaft. "Let me tell you I have +had to use considerable brawn, Willie, in handling these roughnecks that +work for me." + +He laughed again. Joe Hurley could not be sober for long. And his temper +exploded when he had to shout at the top of his lungs to attract the +attention of the watchmen when they wanted to get up to the surface. + +"This feller isn't worth the powder to blow him from here to Jericho," +grumbled Hurley. "I always miss old Steve Siebert when he slopes for the +desert, as he's bound to do every spring. That old desert rat is always +here over Sunday to see that everything is all right, when he's on the +job. But he just has to go off prospecting once in so often." + +He told them more about Siebert and Andy McCann as they went away from +the claim. Betty listened as before with quiet interest, but she made no +comment. Hurley was not at all sure that she had enjoyed, or even +approved of their visit to the mine when she and Hunt parted from him at +his own shack, although she thanked him politely. + +The walk did not end for Hunt and his sister without a more adventurous +incident. The sun had disappeared and the dusk had begun to thicken in +corners and by-streets as they approached the hotel. There, at the mouth +of a narrow lane, two figures stood, a man and a girl, and their voices +were sharp and angry. + +"That's what I'm telling you," the man's voice drawled, a note in it +that at once raised in Hunt that feeling that any decent man experiences +who hears one of his own sex so address a woman. "You got to come to it, +and you might as well come now as later. I got you on the hip--that I +have. Understand?" + +"I understand nothing of the kind, Tolley. You're a bluffer and a beast! +And if you don't let me alone----" + +"Don't fool yourself," interrupted the man. "I won't let you alone till +you come back to the Grub Stake. But I won't talk to you about it again. +I'll talk to others." + +Then the girl told him angrily to do his worst. Betty attempted to pass +on swiftly; but the young man hesitated. + +"Do for goodness' sake come along, Ford!" whispered his sister, looking +back at him. + +Back in Ditson Corners--or in almost any other Eastern town--the Reverend +Willett Ford Hunt would scarcely have shown his interest in such a scene +on the street, save perhaps to speak to a constable or policeman about +it. + +But there was something here he could not ignore. Nor was it entirely +because he recognized the angry voice of the girl, although he had not +as yet seen her face in the dusk. + +"You'll do what I tell you," muttered the bully with an oath, as Hunt +stepped nearer. "If you don't come back to the Grub Stake to sing +to-morrow night, I'll let the whole o' Canyon Pass know----" + +It was just then that Hunt's hand dropped upon Boss Tolley's shoulder. +Nor did it drop lightly. The parson twisted the big man around by one +muscular exertion and looked into his flushed face. + +"Don't you think you've said enough to the young lady?" Hunt asked +quietly. "You have evidently forgotten yourself." + +"What--why, you fool tenderfoot!" + +"Suppose you go, Miss Blossom," suggested Hunt with unruffled voice. +"Let me speak to this man." + +But the minister had quite mistaken Nell Blossom's temper. She turned on +him like a shot. + +"What are you butting in for, I'd like to know? I can take care of +myself--always have and always expect to." Then she laughed harshly, +turning to Tolley again. "Better beat it, Tolley, or the parson will do +something to you besides grabbing your hat." + +The dance-hall keeper, swearing still, jerked away from Hunt's grasp. He +did not seek to continue the quarrel, however. He abruptly turned up the +alley and disappeared. + +"For goodness' sake, Ford!" ejaculated Miss Betty. + +Nell Blossom, thus attracted to the other girl, stepped nearer and +stared at her. Her own face was unsmiling. If it had not been so really +pretty one might have said it was a black look that she gave Betty. But +it was an impish look, too. + +"There are some things you'd better learn if you are going to stay in +this camp, parson," said the singer. "The principal thing is to mind +your own business. If I ever need your help in any little thing, I'll +call on you." + +She passed them both, still staring--now with curiosity--at Betty and went +on along the street. Betty seized her brother's arm. + +"What a horrid little creature!" she said. + + + + +CHAPTER XI--THE STORM ABOUT TO BURST + + +There was a strangely paradoxical feeling in the Reverend Willett Ford +Hunt's mind. Nell Blossom was a subject of thought he could not escape. +He could not wholly overlook her manners and speech; yet he did not feel +that she was blameworthy for either. + +What chance had this wild blossom of a girl ever had, out in this +wilderness, the daughter of a drunken ne'er-do-well, as he had been +told, taught from her childhood to sing for her own living and for her +father's in the saloons of mining camps? Why, almost any other girl +would have gone bad--as bad as could be. And he knew Nell Blossom was not +bad. + +He really wished he might make Joe Hurley his confidant about the girl, +but, harking back to that letter of Joe's in which the latter had spoken +so enthusiastically of Nell, the parson felt that his friend was too +strongly prejudiced in Nell's favor to risk his criticizing her in any +way. + +One question recurred again and again to him: What did that man Tolley, +who he knew was the proprietor of the Grub Stake saloon and dance hall, +mean by commanding Nell to return to his employment? + +Betty saw her brother's more serious mien, and it must be confessed, +wickedly hoped that the situation as it opened before him here at Canyon +Pass was beginning to appall him. How could it do otherwise? Let alone +the crudeness and lack of conveniences in their dwelling place, the +nature of the people with whom they must associate, and the utter +forlornness of life here in the mining town, that last incident as they +walked back from the Great Hope Mine should impress Ford with the utter +impracticability of his trying to begin a pastorate here. + +The awful ruffian who had sworn at the girl--horrid as she seemed to +be--shocked Betty beyond expression. And what a look that Nell Blossom, +she had asked her brother the singer's name, had given her, Betty Hunt! +As unfriendly, as hateful, as though the Eastern girl had done the +singer some grievous wrong. + +The strange girl had insulted and flouted Ford, too. Betty's loyalty to +her brother was up in arms at that, if the truth were told. She could +not but admire after all Ford's cool assumption of authority with the +ruffian and with the cabaret singer as well. Why, Ford did not seem to +be afraid of these people at all. Even Joe Hurley could have been no +more sure of himself in such a situation than her brother had proved to +be. + +For in spite of her disapproval of the mining man she realized that Joe +was perfectly able to handle such situations and such rude people with +equanimity. But then, he was of this soil. He was of the West. To tell +the truth, Betty was inclined to think of Hurley as being quite as bad +in manners, speech, and outlook on life as the other people of Canyon +Pass. + +She would say nothing about all this to her brother. Betty Hunt was +quite capable of thinking things out for herself. Prejudiced she had +been--and was--against the town and their visit to it; but she did not +utterly lack logic. She went to bed that second night in the Wild Rose +Hotel with somewhat different thoughts in her mind after all. At least, +she did not drag the washstand in front of her locked door as a barrier. + +In the morning the mining man appeared at the door of the hotel riding +his big bay and leading two other saddled horses. The freight wagons had +come in the evening before, and Betty had got her trunks. Out of one she +had resurrected the riding habit which she had not worn of late, but +which still fitted her perfectly and was chic. + +But Betty was daunted by the look of the mount Hurley had selected for +her. + +"Mr. Hurley!" exclaimed Betty emphatically, "on your honor, is that +horse safe?" + +"As safe as a church. You hitch him on a railroad track, and he'd only +step just far enough aside for the lightning express to go by without +shaving him." + +She looked at him, both puzzled and disapproving. "I never know when you +are serious," she finally said. + +"You can bet your last blue chip on the fact that I am taking no chances +of a hoss throwing you or cutting up rusty while you're on his back," +the man returned earnestly. "Hardscrabble is all right, Miss Betty." + +He offered his hand to Betty for her to step into with all the grace of +a courtier. He looked up into her eyes, too, as she mounted past his +shoulder into the saddle, and his smile was so friendly that she could +not help smiling in return. + +Hunt swung himself on to his own mount--a rather rangy cayuse that +promised speed as well as endurance. Hurley bounded into his own saddle +from the step without touching the stirrups until he was seated. Bouncer +stood up on his hind legs, snorted, came down stiff-legged, and bucked +once just to show that he was in fine fettle. The other horses cantered +away from the hotel more sedately. + +They spattered through the West Fork and went into the canyon along the +river trail. There was not a soul in sight but themselves when they +turned the first out-thrust of the cliff. Runaway River brawled in its +bed. The huge, threatening cap of the Overhang cast its shadow almost to +the opposite wall. The mighty rocks, the deep cracks in which the brush +clung with tenuous roots, the wind-wrung, anguished, stunted trees, all +held the visitors spellbound. Such a devil's slot in the hills they +could never have imagined without actually seeing it. + +"Suppose that should fall?" Betty broke out pointing up at the frowning +cap of the cliff. + +"That's what we are supposing all the time, Miss Betty," replied Hurley +quietly. "Part of it did fall about twenty years ago. That was long +before my time, of course. But Bill Judson and some of the other +old-timers can tell you about it. It came pretty near ringing the +death-knell for Canyon Pass." + +"Backed up the river into the town, did it?" asked the logical Hunt. + +"I'll say it did! And over the town. Judson says it was so deep over his +store that he went out from the headlands in a flatboat and grappled +through the skylight of his joint for tobacco out of the showcase. Takes +that old-timer to spread it on thick," and he chuckled. + +"But is it likely to happen again?" cried Betty. + +"Any day--any hour--any minute," repeated Hurley quietly. "There are +thousands of tons of stuff up there that may fall. Choke the canyon +half-wall high. If it does, there'll be a lake here that'll furnish +water enough to irrigate blame near all of the Topaz Desert--believe me. +Canyon Pass will have to go into raising frogs or such," and he laughed. + +"Oh! I felt that it was a dangerous place to live in," murmured Betty. + +"Great saltpeter!" exclaimed Hurley again. "No worse than folks who live +on the sides of volcanoes in Italy, for instance. Or in the earthquake +belt along the Pacific coast. Pshaw!" + +"But--but there is so much room out here, Mr. Hurley," cried Betty. "Why +not choose a safer place in which to establish a town?" + +"The mines and washings. Gold established Canyon Pass. It isn't a +beautiful spot, but it's handy. We got to just keep on hoping that the +Overhang doesn't fall." + +"There is a place where some of it has fallen--and recently," Hunt broke +in, with some gravity. + +Half blocking the trail, and bulking along the river's edge for perhaps +ten yards, was a heap of gravel and soil on which no grass or other +verdure grew. Looking up the sloping canyon wall they could trace the +downfall of this small slide for more than half the distance to the +summit. + +"What is that sticking out of it?" asked Betty. "A stick?" + +Hurley sniffed like a bird-dog that has just raised a covey. He was to +windward of the heap. Hunt had forced his mount nearer from the other +side. + +"That is not a stick," he said quietly. "It looks to me like----" + +Hurley ejaculated something that was very near an oath. He flung himself +out of his saddle and strode over the rubble. He stopped and examined +the thing Betty had seen, even touching it with his gauntleted hand. + +"Never heard of this," he muttered. "Odd, I must say!" + +"What is it?" asked Hunt. + +"A horse's leg. Been pecked clean by the vultures--not by coyotes, or the +bones would be torn apart. Well!" + +"Oh, there has been a dreadful accident here! Is somebody buried under +that pile of gravel?" demanded Betty. + +"Not likely. Just a cayuse. Maybe a wandering critter. Happened to be +right here--taking a drink at the riverside, maybe--when the slide fell. +Or it might have been the cause of the slip. Came down with it," Hurley +explained in jerky sentences. "The weight of the hoss might have broke +off a piece of the Overhang and--here he is!" + +This seemed to satisfy him. He went back to his own horse and mounted +again. + +They rode several miles farther, but Joe Hurley did not seem quite so +volatile as usual. Was he "studying" on the buried horse by the +riverside? At least, when they rode back toward noon, he fell behind at +the point where the small landslip had landed, halting his horse beside +it for a moment. He overtook his friends in a short time, however, but +did not say anything. + +As they sighted the ford again, down from the upland on this side came a +dashing and brilliant-hued figure--a girl on a cream-colored pony. Hunt +recognized Nell Blossom at first glance. + +"Hi, Nell!" shouted Hurley, raising his hand and arm, palm out, in the +Indian peace sign. + +She scarcely nodded to him, but she grinned elfishly as she rode down +into the shallows and her pony's flying feet spattered them all at the +river's edge. She scarcely seemed to give Hunt and his sister a glance. +She plied the quirt that hung from her wrist, and the cream-colored pony +recklessly forded the stream and climbed the further bank. + +"How impolite," murmured the Eastern girl, brushing the drops from her +sleeve. + +"She's a little devil," agreed Hurley frankly. "That's the lady I was +telling you of, Willie. She's as wild as a jack rabbit." + +Hunt nodded soberly. He made no other comment. As they rode up into Main +Street they heard wild yells and hootings from the far end, then the +pattering of a pony's rapid hoofbeats. Back toward the ford tore the +cream-colored pony bearing the bizarre figure of the cabaret singer. + +Now Nell rode without touching the bridle reins. She swung the whip and +cracked it sharply. In the other hand she gripped a six-shooter of +practical size and weight. + +"What is the matter with that crazy creature?" asked Betty. + +Hurley merely laughed. Nell Blossom approached at a wild gallop. Men +appeared at the doors of various stores and saloons along the street and +yelled their delight. + +"Ye-yip! Yip-py-yip!" shrieked the appreciative audience. "Oh, you Nell! +Ye-_yow_! Git out o' town!" + +The girl, her face glowing, her hair flying from under her hat, her +whole figure electric with life and abundance of spirit, rode faster and +faster. As she approached the front of the Grub Stake she saw the +slouching figure of its proprietor backed against the wall by the door, +smoking. He grinned evilly at the rider. + +Nell pressed the trigger. Five staccato shots whistled skyward. The +sixth ruffled the lank hair on Boss Tolley's head and splintered the +door frame just above it! + +The divekeeper dodged and crouched, as though expecting another bullet. +He almost slunk into his barroom. Then he realized that the girl had +made a show of him and was riding on, applauded by the laughter and +shrieks of the onlookers. + +He whirled, and, lifting both hands, shook the clenched fists after the +flying Nell. He was almost apoplectic with rage. He burst forth: + +"You crazy, derned hoptoad of a gal! Somebody ought to grab you off that +animal. Shootin' at folks thataway! Is that what you done when you drove +poor Dick Beckworth over the edge of the Overhang?" + +The incoming trio of riders--Hurley, Hunt and Betty--were almost opposite +the Grub Stake as Tolley emitted these words. In a flash the mining man +was out of the saddle and standing in front of the startled Tolley. + +"What do you mean, you miserable scoundrel?" demanded Joe in so +threatening a tone that Tolley fell back against the side of the +building again. "What do you mean about Dick Beckworth?" + +Hunt had spurred his own horse nearer. He feared Joe would do something +rash. The rolling, bloodshot eye of the divekeeper expressed fear of the +other; but he was too much enraged to call caution to his aid at that +moment. + +"I mean what I say," he rumbled. "You don't know it, and nobody else in +Canyon Pass, I reckon, knows it but me. But I know that derned crazy gal +was the cause of Dick Beckworth's end. And a mean end it was." + +"Dick the Devil, _dead_?" + +"That's what he is," said Tolley with less vehemence. He sensed that it +would not be wise to be so vociferous with Joe Hurley's eyes glaring +into his own. "Dick come to a mighty mean end. I seen it; but I didn't +know what it meant." + +"It's more likely you killed him, Tolley--if he's dead. Or did you have +him gunned by Tom Hicks or some other of your friends?" demanded Hurley +sharply. + +"I never! Poor Dick wasn't expectin' nawthin', I allow. That crazy +gal----" + +"Be blamed easy how you bring Nell's name into this," muttered Hurley, +his hand upon the butt of his own gun. + +Hunt leaned from his saddle and laid his hand upon his friend's +shoulder. Hurley did not look back--he knew better, for there was +likewise a gun at Boss Tolley's belt. + +"All right, Willie," the mining man said. "Let's listen to what this rat +has to say. But be blame careful, Tolley, that you don't raise your +voice too high. If you do, I'll certainly maul you a pile." + + + + +CHAPTER XII--TOLLEY'S TALE + + +Hunt had a feeling that he was present at one of those tense scenes of a +Western cinema drama, where the heroic gunman holds the villain under +the muzzle of his lethal weapon. + +He might have leaned from his horse again and plucked both Joe Hurley's +gun and that of the divekeeper from their holsters. But he thought twice +about that. Neither of the men was in the mood to brook interference. +Besides, the parson was keenly alive to the mystery manifested in +Tolley's words regarding Nell Blossom and the man called Dick the Devil. + +Nobody else was near enough to have overheard what passed between Tolley +and Joe Hurley. None of the other Passonians, amused by Nell's wild +escapade, drew nearer, and Betty had ridden on to the hotel, refusing to +betray the least interest in such a rude scene. + +"Speak up, Tolley!" commanded Hurley again. "You've been telling us Dick +Beckworth went to Denver to deal faro at a gambling house there. Now you +come out with such a thing as this--mixing Nell's name up in some blamed +lie about Dick's being killed." + +"He was killed. It was murder--or mighty close to it. And that gal----" + +He halted again. There was something in Joe Hurley's eyes that stopped +him. + +"Suppose you start this thing right," said the mine owner more quietly. +"I understand Dick Beckworth left town the morning old Steve and Andy +McCann broke out, the same as usual, this spring?" + +"And the same morning that gal left me and the Grub Stake flat, and went +kitin' off," retorted Tolley. + +"Well, let's hear the particulars." + +"I didn't know Nell had gone at first." He winced, having spoken the +girl's name again, because of the darting threat from Hurley's brown +eyes. "When Dick told me he was off I didn't scarce believe him. But +then I seen him and that--er--gal riding down to the ford. I thought they +was up to some game. Anyway, I thought I could talk Dick into coming +back. He was the best dealer I ever had." + +"Well?" snapped Hurley. + +"I saddled a hoss and went after them. They'd followed the wagon track +to the top of the cliff. But I thought they'd took the river trail. When +I got a piece along the road, I heard something go _bam_--a fall of rock, +or something, down the cliff. I hurried my nag and come around a turn +where I could see. I looked up--never thought to look ahead along the +edge of Runaway River, I see her--Nell--looking over the edge of the +cliff. + +"I see then I was follering the wrong lead," pursued Tolley. "I didn't +think much about the slip I'd heard--not then. I wanted to get at Dick. +So I turned back, got to the foot of the wagon track up the cliff +yonder," he pointed, "and hurried after them. + +"When I got up there neither of 'em was in sight. I hustled along the +road and went clean past the fork of the Hoskins' trail. Never thought +of either of 'em going to that dump," grumbled Tolley. + +"Well, I give it up after a while. I thought I'd lost too much time, +starting out wrong at first as I had. They was too fast for me. So I +rode back. It wasn't till then, when I come to that place I'd seen Nell +looking over from, that I saw how big a lump had broke off the edge of +the Overhang." + +Hurley sucked in his breath sharply. "Go on!" was all he said. + +"I looked down there. I seen how big the slide was. And I seen something +more. There was something sticking out of that heap of stuff on the +river bank. I couldn't be sure, but I thought it was the hind parts of a +hoss, only upside down. + +"I pushed my hoss along the river trail again and come to the heap of +stuff that had come down the cliff. It hadn't come down alone." + +Hunt, listening as closely as Hurley, had no idea how his friend felt; +but for his own part his flesh crawled at the inference he drew from +Tolley's tale. The man let his last words sink into their minds for +fully a minute before he went on. + +"It hit me right where I lived. Something bad had happened. It hadn't +happened to the gal. So I figgered it must be Dick. + +"And I wasn't mistook," continued Tolley with a certain satisfaction in +his tone. "I'd been right when I thought there was a hoss in that pile +of gravel. There was--but not much of it stickin' out. However, I clawed +down to the saddle, undid it, and hauled it out. It was Dick's all +right. I got it now stuck into the bottom of my big safe." + +"But where was Dick?" demanded Hurley. + +"How should _I_ know?" retorted the other. "Maybe under the heap--but I +didn't think so. I reckon he was throwed clean into the river. And you +know what the current of Runaway River is!" + +Hurley groaned. + +"Wait!" said Hunt suddenly. "The man you call Dick might not have gone +over the cliff with the horse. You did not see the accident." + +"He didn't come back to town. And he wouldn't have gone on afoot to +Hoskins or any place else," Tolley said surlily. "Nobody ain't seen him +around yere from that day to this." + +"And you lied about Dick and kept it under your hat all this time?" was +Hurley's comment. + +"Well, I had a right, didn't I?" blustered Tolley. + +"Every right in the world." The mining man spoke evenly now, coldly. +"And you've got a better right to keep the story to yourself right +along." + +"What d'ye mean?" + +"What I say. Keep your mouth shut about it. Don't let me hear of you +opening your yawp the way you did just now. I don't half believe this +yarn, anyway. You couldn't tell _all_ the truth about anything, Tolley. +The truth isn't in you. But sometimes a half-truth does more harm than a +whole lie. You stick to your first story about Dick the Devil going to +Denver. Understand?" + +"I don't understand why I should do what you say, Hurley." + +The latter patted the butt of his own gun. "Notice that?" he said with a +deadly fierceness that shocked Hunt. "If you repeat this yarn, I'll come +after you. And if I come after you, Tolley, I'll get you!" + +He went back to the waiting Bouncer and mounted into the saddle without +another word or a glance at Tolley. But Hunt, his nerves strained to a +tension he had never before experienced, watched the owner of the Grub +Stake sharply. Hurley's disregard of the fellow amazed the man from the +East. He did not realize that Tolley was so unstrung that he could not +have hit the broad side of a barn if he had drawn his gun. But Joe +Hurley knew it. + +The two young men rode on to the door of the hotel, both silent. Cholo +Sam was watching Betty's pony. The girl had dismounted and gone up to +her room. + +"Joe, what is going to be the end of this?" asked Hunt in a low voice. + +"I don't know, Willie." + +"Will you speak----" + +"To Nell? Not on your life!" + +"But the truth will come out some time. Who was that Dick?" + +Hurley told him. He went further and told of the interest the cabaret +singer had shown in the gambler for some time previous to Dick's +disappearance--before Nell had gone to Hoskins to sing in the Tin Can +Saloon. + +"It--it looks bad," faltered Hunt. + +"Bad is no name for it." + +"The girl should be questioned." + +"Not by me!" cried Hurley. "I don't think Tolley will run the risk of +speaking to her about it," he added. + +"He has already," said Hunt. + +He explained about what he and Betty had overheard pass between Nell +Blossom and the owner of the Grub Stake the evening previous. + +"Great saltpeter!" gasped Hurley. "Then that's why Nell cut that caper +just now. She didn't do it just for deviltry. She was warning Tolley on +her own hook." + +"Joe, there must be no bloodshed over this. If one man has died, that is +enough," Hunt said sternly. "We must get at the truth." + +"Not me!" cried Hurley again. "I wouldn't tackle Nell for a farm." + +"And--and you are so close to her--know her so well?" murmured Hunt. + +"That ain't no never-mind," the mining man said earnestly. "That girl's +got teeth, I tell you." + +"But she is in danger. She must be questioned." + +"Great saltpeter! You wouldn't get nothing out of Nell Blossom--nothing +that she didn't want to tell." + +"She should be convinced that her greater danger lies in silence." + +"Convince Nell? What did I tell you, Willie? You couldn't make her do a +thing, or even see a thing, that she did not want to do or see." + +"There is one thing I can do," said Hunt finally. + +"What's that, Willie?" and his friend sighed. + +"Find me a pickax and shovel." + +"What's that?" + +"A pickax and a shovel. At once." + +"Great----Say, that's a new one. I never thought of getting an idea into +Nell Blossom's stubborn head with those tools. But it might work at +that," and Hurley rode off to get the instruments of labor, but without +a smile. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII--PLANS ARE MADE + + +Hurley brought back with him two shovels instead of one, and the pick. +The two young men took a roundabout way to the ford so that Boss Tolley +might not spy them and suspect where they were going. + +They did not talk much. Both were thinking too deeply--were much too +disturbed by the uprearing of this tragic thing--for idle chatter. Hunt +wondered how his friend really thought of Nell Blossom. For his own part +he was heavily depressed by this thing that had come to light. + +The situation threatened serious consequences for the cabaret singer. In +a more law-abiding community the coroner's office would have summoned +Nell Blossom for examination if the district attorney did not. And in +any case, Hunt believed, the whole miserable business must come at last +to the light of day. + +It was past noon when Hunt and his friend arrived at that heap of dirt +and dbris that had before attracted their attention. But neither of +them thought of the hour or of the midday meal. + +Hunt, dismounting, allowed the reins to trail upon the ground before his +horse's nose as he saw Hurley did with Bouncer. Both animals were well +trained. He removed coat, vest, and Tom Hicks' broad-brimmed hat which +he still affected. Rolling up his sleeves he seized the pick and went at +the task with the skill as well as the strength of a trained +ditch-digger. Hurley admired the parson's ability thus displayed. + +"Some boy, you, Willie. I'll tell the world you know something besides +pounding the pulpit. Where's that shovel?" + +They uncovered the dead animal and threw it into the swift, deep current +of the Runaway. + +They did not cease digging, however, until every square yard of the +fallen soil and rubble from the top of the cliff had been combed over. +They covered one section with the upturned windrow of another. Nothing +which had fallen with that fatal landslide remained unseen. But what +they had feared to find was not in evidence. + +"Either Tolley's guess was right, or Dick Beckworth never came down that +wall with his horse," Hurley said with finality. + +Hunt nodded, finally leaning on his spade. "At least, we have satisfied +our own minds," he said. "That is something." + +"And mighty little. Dick isn't here. I bet a thousand he didn't go to +Hoskins with Nell. He wouldn't have walked in any case. Then, where the +devil is he?" + +"That is not the main question," rejoined the parson thoughtfully. "The +principal thing is to get at the truth about this accident. What +happened up there at the top of the cliff? Did the man come down with +the horse and these several tons of gravel and soil? And if he came +down, what became of his body?" + +"Great saltpeter!" Hurley brought out his uncouth ejaculation with a new +emphasis. "Do you suppose Tolley, after all, knows more about that than +Nell does?" + +"What?" Then Hunt understood. "It might be," he said slowly. "Evidently +Tolley was not pleased by that gambler's leaving him, any more than he +was pleased by Miss Blossom's leaving him. It might be----" + +"It might be," finished Hurley with vigor, "that Boss Tolley is dragging +a skunk after him to fool the hounds." + +Hunt admitted the truth of this rather homely expression. "All the more +reason why the girl must be questioned," he said. + +"You're crazy, Willie!" cried Hurley. "You will get nothing out of +Nell--if she doesn't want to talk. And if she knows anything at all about +this, and is at all connected with the matter of Dick's disappearance, +you can just bet she's got good reason for keeping her lips closed." + +"For her own sake, she should confide in us--in you, at least. She will +need our help and our support if this comes out." + +"She's got mine, whether or no," Hurley said, slinging on his belt and +gun again. + +Perhaps Hunt thought he spoke significantly as he hitched the weapon +into place. He wagged a disagreeing head. + +"That sort of support will not save Nell Blossom's soul," he observed +thoughtfully. "To blow off Tolley's head will not help her one iota in +cleansing her mind and heart of anguish if she has guilty knowledge of +that man's death--if he is dead." + +"I tell you that Dick the Devil was well named," cried Hurley furiously. +"Why some man before this had not beaten him to death is a mystery. If +Nell shot him off the edge of that cliff, he got what was coming to him, +and no more." + +"Oh!" murmured Hunt, with a shudder. "It might not be that she has such +a terrible sin as that on her conscience!" + +"I don't give a hang," returned his friend. "If she had, there ain't +twelve men in Canyon County that would convict her of it. Don't tell +me!" + +"Oh, Joe! You don't see. You don't understand," urged his friend sadly. +"What matters man's conviction of her crime? It is of what her own heart +may convict her." + +"'Twouldn't bother me none if I'd sent Dick the Devil over that cliff," +declared Hurley. "But I leave it to you, parson. You maybe know more +about such things than I do. To tell the truth, you do. Otherwise I +wouldn't have had any hopes of your doing any good in Canyon Pass. Maybe +you know more about womankind than I do, as well," he added, a bitter +smile wreathing his lips once more. "I wish you all the luck in the +world when you tackle Nell Blossom on this topic. But I wouldn't be in +your shoes for half my stock in the Great Hope." + +Anxious as he was made by the outbreak of this affair the Reverend +Willett Ford Hunt did not forget the work that he earnestly hoped to +begin in Canyon Pass. Nor did he delay in laying plans for the efforts +he hoped would aid in changing the moral tone of the town. + +It was that evening in the Three Star Grocery where he went with Joe +Hurley that the first tentative plan was discussed. Jib Collins, who +seemed to have been much impressed by the young minister on Sunday +afternoon, was there, as well as the old storekeeper himself. With them +several of the more sober citizens joined in conversation. + +Hunt struck while the iron was hot. The first thing, he thought, was to +find some place in which services could be held on Sunday. He had seen +at least one empty store, or warehouse, he told them, which might be +cleaned out and put into fairly decent shape. He had looked into the +windows. There was a dingy sign on the front which said it was for sale. + +"Dad burn it, parson!" exclaimed Judson, "you must mean that old place +of Tolley's." + +"Tolley?" repeated Hunt with disappointment. "Does it belong to that +man?" + +"Sure does," said Jib Collins. + +"It used to be where Tolley had his honkytonk before he built his bigger +place. He owns it, of course," Hurley remarked. + +"Then I presume we could scarcely count on getting it," said Hunt with +reflection. "Tolley is vigorously opposed, I understand, to this thing +we wish to do." + +"Hold on," put in the storekeeper. "Let's study on it. In the first +place, you all keep it under your hats, and maybe I can do something +with Tolley." + +"You'll do a fat lot with him," prophesied Collins. + +"Mebbe so. We'll see. How 'bout that 'wisdom of sarpints' the Good Book +speaks of, parson?" said the storekeeper. "You lemme try to fix it with +Tolley. That's all." + +"Oh, we'll leave it to you, old-timer," Hurley said laughingly. "Nobody +will begrudge you that job." + +"If we get that place--or some other--we must have seats," Hunt went on. +"There are many things to think of--and many things to get together +before next Sunday. A week is none too long to prepare for such a work." + +"And a pulpit," Collins proposed. "Me and Cale could knock up a +pulpit--of a kind. We are some carpenters--me and Cale. If I can get him +to help." + +Hunt was perfectly willing to put such burdens as he might upon the +friendly citizens of Canyon Pass. In fact, that is just what he wanted +them to do--take hold of the new idea as though they really supported it. +The discussion, although of generalities, brought forth some concrete +results. + +Judson knew that Tolley was anxious to do something with the old shack. +Judson intimated that he expected to need more room for goods. He did +not say exactly when he would need it; but he got Tolley down to an +agreement, and they made a bargain. The storekeeper paid a nominal rent +for the shack six months in advance, agreeing to make such repairs as +the place might need himself. + +The business was kept secret, although Collins and Cale Mack went to +work on their part of the job the very next day. Others collected seats +and a few other furnishings. Everything was of the plainest; even the +pulpit was built of unpainted boards. But Hunt saw that the place was +clean. + +Judson furnished lamps from his stock. "We'll want evening meetings, +too," he said. "After we get to going, I mean. It won't be a bad idea to +commence running a show that will compete with the Grub Stake and +Colorado Brown's and those other joints. The boys drop into the saloons +because there ain't another derned place in the town to go to after +dark." + +On Wednesday Hunt, walking toward the mines, confronted unexpectedly the +withered, baldheaded man he had carried home over his shoulder on Sunday +morning. Sam Tubbs stopped him. + +"I reckon you're the parson, ain't you?" he asked, cocking his head in a +birdlike way to look up at Hunt. "My old woman is right smart anxious to +see you again. That woman's all for this here religion they say you are +going to deal out to the boys. Says she's got something for you." + +"Thank you, Mr. Tubbs. I will go around and call on her." + +"Well, you can if you like. Miz Tubbs is pretty nigh big enough to be +her own boss, and what I say don't affect her no more than as though I +shot my mouth off in the middle of Topaz Desert. That's a fact. I hear +you are a pretty decent feller, as parsons go; but I might as well tell +you right now that I ain't--and don't ever mean to be--a convert." + +"I shall like you none the less for that, Mr. Tubbs," said Hunt, smiling +and offering his hand. "A man must always decide for himself, you know. +I shall be glad to have you come to hear me preach; but you need not +believe a word I say unless your own mind tells you I am right." + +"Huh!" grunted Sam, rather staggered. "That sounds fair. Mebbe I will +come to hear you--sometime. If you last long enough." + +This opinion--that the parson would not last in his attempt to uplift +Canyon Pass--seemed to be the view of the general run of Passonians. + +He had a few very enthusiastic coworkers, however. He found one when he +went to call upon Mother Tubbs. + +"It's been in my heart for many a long day, Brother Hunt," the old woman +said. "This here holding meetings, and the like. I said a long time back +I'd give a pretty if a man of God would come in here and shake this camp +like a snowslide in the mountains. We need to get a mighty bump. +Youbetcha! + +"Now the time's come, I'm just as excited as a gal going to her first +dance. I can't make Sam enthuse none; and I'm disappointed in Nell, I do +say. But I am going to do all I can myself to boost your job for you." + +"Thank you, Sister Tubbs," said the young parson. "Is Miss Blossom +here?" + +"She's upstairs a-dressin'. But I don't reckon she'll give you much but +the rough side of her tongue. Lately, Nell seems to be bewitched. Think +of her ridin' her pony up and down the street the other day, shootin' +and cavortin' like a drunken cow-puncher! She puts on these didoes jest +for devilment. And she ain't got a good word for you and your plans, +Brother Hunt." + +"Well," said the parson calmly, "perhaps things will change with her in +time. We won't worry." + +"I'm glad you can take it so calm," said Mother Tubbs, sniffing. "Now, +come in yere. This is what I got for you." + +She led the way into the inner room, half bedroom and half sitting room, +the principal room in the shack. There was a small center table. On it +was a huge tome with tarnished brass clasps--a bulky volume that had +evidently seen much rough usage. Mother Tubbs put her hand upon it +proudly. + +"See that, Brother Hunt?" she said. "It's the old Bible out of the Blue +Lick Chapel down in Arkansas. The chapel burned down when I was a gal; +but the Bible was saved. When my folks moved out thisaway we brung it +with us, and it's been in the bottom of an old trunk of mine for forty +year. Now it comes to light." She opened it with care. "I reckon you got +all the Bibles you need to work with. But I do like to see a big one +like this on the pulpit for show." + +"This is most thoughtful and kind of you, Sister Tubbs," declared Hunt, +understanding the spirit of pride and reverence in which the old woman +had offered the book. "I shall see that it rests on our pulpit." + +At that moment Nell Blossom came into the room from the stairway. She +nodded to him bruskly, but offered him no welcoming hand. + +"I declare, Nell," complained the old woman, "you ain't going out +without a word to the parson, are you?" + +"I've no particular word for the parson," returned the girl, a glint of +ice in her blue eyes. + +"If you will allow me to say so, Miss Blossom," said Hunt quietly, "I +have a particular word for you." + +She stared at him angrily. He picked up his hat from the chair. + +"If you are going out," he said, "I will walk along with you and say +what I have to say." + +"Humph! I can't stop you from walking up Mulligan Lane. It's free," +returned the girl most ungraciously and walked ahead of him out of the +house. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV--THE GREAT DAY ARRIVES + + +Hunt caught up with Nell Blossom when she had passed through the gap in +the barrelstave picket-fence, and his length of stride easily kept him +beside the girl. Unless Nell broke into a run she could scarcely leave +the parson out of earshot. + +"Miss Blossom," he began, "my interference in your affairs calls for no +excuse. I have no vulgar curiosity. You tell me to mind my own business. +But when I see another in trouble it is my business to offer aid." + +"I am not in trouble," she answered sharply. Then, with scorn: "And if I +was, I wouldn't want a parson's help." + +"No. But a friend's help? I assure you I am your friend." + +She now looked at him rather curiously, but her expression did not +soften in the least. Doubt, scorn, a real dislike of the man who sought +to gain her confidence struggled to gain the mastery of her pretty +features. + +"I don't know you, I've only seen you a few times. I don't make friends +so easy----" + +"We don't make friends in this world, Miss Blossom. We win them whether +we would or not. You have won my friendly feeling because I know that +you are troubled. I know what your trouble is, and I believe I can help +you." + +His downrightness startled Nell, and she stopped and stared at him. + +"You can't help me if I don't want your help," she cried in secret +panic. + +"I cannot help you so much if you deny me your confidence," he admitted. +"But I stand ready to help you." + +"You'd better sit down," she shot at him. "You'll have a long wait +standing for me to get confidential with you, Mr. Parson." + +"Consider," said Hunt seriously, unshaken. "We cannot any of us afford +to refuse an honest offer of sympathy and assistance." + +"What are you trying to do?" she asked with suspicion. "Trying to +squeeze something out of me? You parsons!" + +She muttered the phrase disdainfully. He put her rudeness aside without +change of countenance. His placidity, his assurance, began to shake +Nell's confidence in herself more than any other thing. + +"I have heard something. I have seen something. I know that if you will +listen to me--perhaps accept and follow some advice I may give you--you +will be benefited," he said. + +"In what way, I should like to know?" she asked jeeringly. + +"In your heart. In your mind and conscience." + +"Well!" She was silent again for a moment, but her face did not change +in its expression, "Well, you can talk, I reckon," and she moved on +slowly again. "There ain't any law against talking in Canyon Pass--yet." + +"From the few words I heard that man, Tolley, say to you on Sunday +evening, I know that he threatened you," Hunt said directly. + +"That beast!" + +"He thinks he has knowledge that will make you trouble if spread +broadcast in the town." + +"Let him dare!" + +Her face was suddenly that of a young and beautiful fury. Hunt shook his +head, saying softly: + +"Killing him would not remove the cause of your trouble, Nell Blossom." + +She turned on him again, her little fists clenched. + +"How much do you know? Out with it!" she commanded. + +"I will tell you what Tolley says." + +"So you've been snooping and prying, have you?" she queried, her rage +almost suffocating her. + +"I will tell you what Tolley says," repeated Hunt. And he did so calmly, +dispassionately, as though he were relating a series of common facts. +"That man's horse was under the fall from the cliff. The man's body is +not there--if he fell with the horse." Nell did not even wince, still +staring into his eyes, her own as hard as flint. "Those are all the +facts in my possession, Miss Blossom." + +She remained silent. She had recovered both her regular breathing and +her composed manner. He could only read in her features a determination +that was adamant. + +"Will you answer a few questions?" he ventured. + +"Out with them!" + +"What caused the horse to fall?" + +"You gump! He fell because the bank gave way," she replied rudely. + +"What became of his rider?" + +"I don't know." + +"Did you leave him at that spot?" + +She waited a moment. Then, as harshly as before: + +"Yes." + +"You have not seen him since? Or communicated with him?" + +"Dick Beckworth? I should say not!" + +"Do you know what became of him?" + +A bitter, sneering smile marred her lips. "I know what Tolley says--that +he's in Denver." + +"Tolley proposes to deny that now," Hunt said softly. + +"Let him. One lie is as good as another, and Boss Tolley's full of +them." + +"Will you help me discover if Beckworth is alive?" + +"I tell you once for all, I don't want anything more to do with Dick the +Devil. I don't want to even hear about him." + +"Then you and he quarreled?" + +The mistake was fatal, and the parson knew it the instant he had said +the unwise words. But he could not recall them. + +"See here, Parson Hunt! you're making a nuisance of yourself. I want to +tell you that no tenderfoot will get far in Canyon Pass if he begins as +you have. I've got nothing to tell you. I won't talk to you. I don't +want a thing to do with you. Now! Am I plain enough?" + +She walked on stoutly, her head up, her cheeks aflame. For a few yards +he walked quietly beside her. Then he lifted his hat and turned aside. +When Nell had disappeared, Hunt sadly shook his head. + +"I fear," he told himself, "that I have made a bad beginning." + +Circumstances that followed proved that his suspicion was correct. In +less than twenty-four hours he heard that without a doubt he had made +another enemy. + +"I don't know how it is, parson," said Bill Judson shaking a mournful +head, "but that little devil, Nell Blossom, is on the warpath. And she's +after your scalp." + +"It is stuck on pretty tightly, Mr. Judson," Hunt replied with a smile. + +"'Tain't no laughing matter. Nell has a terrible drag with the boys. If +she don't have you run out of town, she may try to bust up your show. +She says you're a mischief-maker, and all that. She's plumb down on +parsons." + +"We will have to convince her that the tribe is harmless." + +"Not much chance," said Judson, who evidently shared Hurley's opinion of +Nell's obstinacy. + +"Time will cure all that," said the parson, with more apparent +confidence than he really felt. + +While preparations were going forward for the first meeting with +satisfactory speed, Hunt heard on every hand of the gathering forces of +opposition. + +Nell Blossom had resurrected the old song, "This Is No Place for a +Minister's Son," and in a ridiculous clerical make-up sang it each night +in Colorado Brown's place. Passing along the street to his hotel Hunt +heard the chorus roared by the men who applauded the cabaret singer. He +was met with more jeering laughter wherever he went than before; and he +realized that ridicule would do the good cause more harm than any other +form of opposition. + +Joe Hurley was very busy at the mine that week, and he had not much to +say to his friend from the East when they met. But he showed curiosity +as to what had befallen Hunt when he talked with Nell Blossom. + +"I fear I began wrong," admitted the parson. + +"I reckon however you began you wouldn't get far with Nell," observed +Hurley. "I'll keep my eye on Tolley. He's just boiling inside. But +unless he has a gang behind him he hasn't any more spunk than a rabbit. +Nell's too popular--just now, especially--for him to dare spring anything +against her. And she certainly is making herself well-beloved with the +boys from the Eureka Washings and the other mines," and he grinned +ruefully. + +"I can keep most of my own roughnecks in line. I reckon they kind of +cotton to me, and they know I am set on this church business. But Nell +certainly holds the camp in the hollow of her hand." + +"She is wrong; but she does not realize it, perhaps," considered Hunt. +"And yet, maybe she does know." + +The Reverend Willett Ford Hunt might have considered, as his sister +believed at that moment, that the outlook for successful religious work +in Canyon Pass was quite as foggy as it had been at any time at Ditson +Corners. Yet the opposition that had developed here was nothing more +than Hunt had expected. And it was open hostility. There was nothing +hypocritical about it. + +He had met Slickpenny Norris at the bank, Hunt had opened an account +there, and had invited the old curmudgeon to take some interest in the +church proposal. He had got one large grunt from the banker, and that +was all. Norris could be as close-mouthed as a clam when it might be to +his disadvantage to speak his mind. But he offered no encouragement to +the parson by that grunt. + +Saturday evening came and those who were most interested in the uplift +of Canyon Pass gathered at the old Tolley place to view with +satisfaction and no little pride the improvements and changes brought +about. + +"Jib," remarked Judson to Collins, having deserted the Three Star +Grocery and left it in the care of the gangling Smithy at a very busy +hour to "take a squint" at the interior of the meeting room, "Jib, you +and Cale Mack have certainly done yourselves proud on that pulpit." + +"Don't praise me! Don't praise me!" exclaimed Collins. "I never could +stand flattery. It puffs me all up. But it's a pretty nifty bit of work, +I do agree." + +"Yeppy," pursued the storekeeper. "It has a slant to one side that maybe +is more the fault of the floor than your spirit-level, Jib. And it looks +sort o' wabbly. But barrin' them defects, it's what I'd call a sightly +pulpit." + +"It's strong enough," grunted Collins gruffly, now not so much pleased. +"I don't reckon the parson is going to take a maul to it, is he?" + +Mother Tubbs just then entered the door. Behind her staggered Sam, his +reeling motion for once having no connection with an alcoholic cause. +Sam Tubbs was dead sober--and quite as positively provoked. + +"I snun to man!" he croaked. "Makin' a pack-hoss of a man thisaway! If +that danged parson wanted this yere Bible he ought've come and toted it +himself." + +"It's very good of you to bring it, Mr. Tubbs," said Hunt, smiling and +coming forward to relieve the old man of his burden. + +Hunt placed the big Bible on the pulpit. One of the interested +housewives had sent a rather handsome linen table-scarf for a pulpit +cloth, and although it was somewhat yellowed from disuse, it made the +unpainted desk seem less bare. + +They drifted in, one by one and in couples, during the evening, these +people deprived so long of the inspiration of worship in a public sense, +some bringing hymn-books of various sorts and a few Bibles. But Hunt had +not come to Canyon Pass unprepared on that score for church work. He had +brought with him from the East fifty hymn-books of the more popular kind +and a dozen Bibles for the use of the congregation in general. When +these had been distributed about the benches they made, Mother Tubbs +declared, "a mighty tasty show." + +Betty was present to be introduced to the women of the camp. Whatever +her private feelings were, the parson's sister could be, and was on this +occasion, a very helpful assistant to her brother. If the Passonians +felt a little awkward, Betty put them quickly at their ease. She made a +most fortunate impression on them all, and the general opinion was "that +that Eastern gal was a perfect lady." + +Joe Hurley appeared with some of the younger men. They were all scrubbed +till their faces shone, shaved to a nicety, and their hair "slicked" and +anointed with everything Jose, the Mexican barber, had on his shelves. + +"Umph!" murmured Mother Tubbs, wrinkling her nose appreciatively. +"Certainly smells proper good since them fellers come in yere. I never +did see why bay rum smells so much better than drinkin' rum. And bay +rum's the only kind of liquor I approve of. The other I only get at +second-hand--on Sam's breath!" + +It was late in the evening, and the town was getting lively, though it +seemed not so noisy as on most pay-nights, when they scattered from the +door of the meeting room. + +Hunt and Betty were the last to go. He latched the door behind them, but +there was no thought in his mind of locking it. That anybody would enter +the place before morning did not cross his thought. + +But later in the night, when this end of Main Street was deserted and +the frolicking in the various amusement places was continued only by a +few irrepressibles, a figure stole out of the alley beside the old +Tolley building and slipped into the room prepared for the first Sunday +service in Canyon Pass. + +Without a light in the place the intruder had some difficulty in +reaching the desk; once there, some few moments elapsed while the +uninvited visitor climbed into the pulpit and opened carefully the big +Bible. When the book was as carefully closed again, without the white +book-marks the parson had placed in it having been disturbed, the +obtrusive one departed. + +Outside, there seemed an air of satisfaction about the very way this +unknown individual walked away. In addition, a very determined--almost +viciously resolved-voice observed: + +"There! If that impudent pulpit-pounder don't get his, I miss my guess!" + + + + +CHAPTER XV--PEP AND A LITTLE PEPPER + + +All Sabbaths were not fine at Canyon Pass, as Hunt realized on opening +his eyes on that important morning. From the same open window through +which he had viewed the chaste glories of the Topaz Range a week before, +he now saw heavy, thunderous-looking clouds wrapping the peaks and +surging down into the lower reaches of the landscape, blotting out, as +they moved on, each monument that he had learned in this brief time of +his sojourn to know. It promised no fair day for the parson's first +service. + +This, however, was not the basis of the heaviness that oppressed him. +Hunt admitted the cause of his heart-sick feeling without dodging the +issue. It was Nell Blossom and her attitude toward him personally that +so troubled the parson of Canyon Pass. That she opposed the good work he +was trying to inaugurate was only a side issue in Hunt's mind. +Opposition in general merely spurred a spirit like his to greater +effort. That is, a frank opposition. + +But the minister's personal interest in Nell Blossom had become +something that controlled him. He could not control it. + +It was not right, he told himself, to do any poaching on what he +considered Joe's preserves. Whether or not Nell cared for the mine +owner, Hunt believed he would be disloyal to his friend if he showed +anything but the interest of a minister and religious adviser in the +young woman. + +Hunt was honest enough to admit that such feeling was not what inspired +him in the matter. Nell Blossom was not at all the kind of girl he would +have deliberately chosen as the object of a serious affection. But who +of us may choose when love enters the lists? + +The winsomeness of Nell shone through the rough and prickly husk of her. +He realized that no man could see in all its clarity the girl's soul. He +believed that the untaught mining-camp child, used as she was to the +rude life about her and only that life, was really out of her natural +element. Whatever Henry Blossom, Nell's dissolute father, may have been, +the girl's mother had perhaps given her child as a legacy a natural +refinement scarcely to be looked for in any person brought up in so +unpolished a community. + +In short, Nell Blossom's intrinsic worth was no more hidden from the +parson than her physical beauty. Her hatred of and disdain for all men +had its root in no fault she had committed. Some man, had it been that +gambler Hunt had heard called "Dick the Devil?" had disillusioned the +child-heart of Nell Blossom and, perhaps, the sweets of love had turned +to ashes in her mouth. + +What had become of that gambler? What was the truth about that tragedy +at the brink of the canyon wall? Did Tolley know the facts and misstate +them? Or was Dick Beckworth really dead and his body swept away by the +torrent of Runaway River? + +It was plain, Hunt decided, that Dick's disappearance weighed heavily +for some cause on Nell Blossom's mind. Something had happened on that +spring morning weeks before which had changed Nell from the +happy-go-lucky girl the parson knew she must have been to this bitter, +disdainful, and apparently wicked woman who scoffed at religion in any +form, and especially had "no use for a pulpit-pounder." + +In a week he had become imbued with such an interest in Nell that she +was the subject most in his thoughts at all hours. He could not +eradicate her from his mind, though he tried hard to do so. + +In his heart he scarcely supposed that the time would ever come when he +might be a suitor for Nell's hand. Joe Hurley stood between them. But +the Reverend Willett Ford Hunt was old enough and wise enough to know +that whatever came to him in the future, as long as he retained his +faculties, Nell Blossom would occupy a niche in his secret heart that no +other interest could fill. + +Twice at night, when Betty was in bed, Hunt had descended into the lane +and, standing at the back of Colorado Brown's place near an open window, +listened to Nell sing her songs, even to the caustic one with which she +closed her act and in response to which the crowd wildly roared its +applause. The verses about the minister's son "went big." But there was +a sweetness and power in her singing voice that seemed to reveal the +better qualities of the girl in the more tender ballads she sang; for +all her numbers were not of a humorous nature. She could bring tears as +well as smiles to the faces of her audience with that voice. + +Betty came tapping at his door while Hunt was still in his robe. When +she saw the dark business suit laid out on the bed she frowned. + +"Ford! I did hope you would dress properly on this day," she said. + +"I am dressing properly--for Canyon Pass," he returned, smiling. "I am +not inclined to attract the hearty laughter and scorn of such members of +the community as Boss Tolley, Tom Hicks, and their ilk. Clerical garb +might be considered by them as a gratuitous insult. And the last thing I +wish to do here is to antagonize the rougher element." + +Although Betty failed to see much distinction in the roughness of the +community, she did not open that avenue of discussion. She did say +decisively: + +"Why bother about those awful men, Ford? Tolley and his crowd will +never, never be members of your congregation. Maria, Sam's wife, has +been giving me the history of those wicked men. She is afraid of her +life because of the gang that hangs about the Grub Stake. That is a +terrible institution, and everybody in Tolley's employ is bad." + +"And yet, Miss Rosabell Pickett, who plays the piano for Tolley, is +going to have her own piano trucked over to the meeting room this +morning and will play the hymns herself for us. So some good must be +found at the Grub Stake," Hunt rejoined, still smiling. "Besides, if +they are bad men, I hope to help them." + +Cholo Sam was closing the door of his bar and locking it when, later, +Hunt and his sister came down from their rooms. Maria, with a jetted +jacket, yellow petticoat and reboza, was waiting for her husband. + +"Seor Hunt," said the innkeeper, flashing his white teeth as usual, "we +honor ourselfs to attend your service, if we may? Si?" + +"I'll be glad to see you and Maria there, Sam." + +Hunt then followed Betty out of the hotel. It had rained since sunrise, +but had stopped now. They were early for the service. The street was +almost deserted. It had been arranged by Hurley that the whistle of the +hoisting engine at the Great Hope should be blown at a quarter to eleven +and again at five minutes of the hour. There was no other means of +summoning the Passonians to worship. + +There was a roar of voices from the barroom of the Grub Stake as the +parson and his sister passed. They crossed the street to avoid a +quagmire, but the sound of revelry followed them. It seemed that all the +other saloons and stores in sight, including the Three Star Grocery, +were somnolent. + +Bill Judson joined them as they passed the grocery store. The old man +was as solemn as a bishop and as uncomfortable as new shoes, tight light +trousers of an ancient fashion, and a stiff-brimmed straw hat could make +him. + +"Hello! What's the matter with Tolley now?" the storekeeper exclaimed in +surprise. + +The owner of the Grub Stake had come tearing out of the place, seemingly +blinded by rage, and dashed along the street. The group that boiled out +of the Grub Stake after him did not follow, but urged him on with +jeering laughter. + +"What is it?" asked Betty, startled. + +"Dunno," said Judson, quickening his stride. "But the feller's up to +something." + +They were in sight of the meeting room now. The door stood open. When +Tolley reached it he plunged in. + +Hunt would not leave Betty, but he hurried her on, while Judson almost +ran and was over the threshold before them. There was a sudden explosion +of voices inside, Tolley's tones high over all. + +"Here's that derned cheater now!" the owner of the place was heard to +shout as the storekeeper entered. "Bill Judson! you think you're mighty +smart, but you can't put nothing like this over on me." + +"What's eatin' on you, Tolley?" was Judson's cool response. + +"The boys just told me what you folks was aimin' to use this dump for. I +didn't hire it to you for no church. I won't have it, I tell you! This +is my shack." + +"And I've paid rent for it for six months. What you goin' to do about +it?" drawled Judson. + +"I'll show you! I won't let no ham-faced old-timer like you make a fool +of me." + +Hunt reached the door. Betty was almost afraid to enter. There were +several men inside and two or three women. Tolley was striding toward +the pulpit, swinging his arms and shouting himself hoarse. + +"I'll show you!" he shouted. "I own this dump. I'll throw this litter +into the street. A church in my shack? Well, I reckon not!" + +The distant whistle at the Great Hope pealed its first signal for the +service. Several groups of Passonians were visible now, converging +toward the place of worship. + +"Better cool down, Tolley," advised Judson again. "We don't aim to have +any riot yere. This used to be your honkytonk, and a dirty place it was. +But we reckon on running another sort of business in it, and you can't +stop us. You're trying to throw sand in the gears o' progress, as the +feller said." + +"I'll show you what I can do!" shouted Tolley, mounting upon the pulpit +platform. He whirled about, and saw Hunt entering the room. "Here's that +danged preacher now." + +"Mr. Tolley," said the parson clearly, "the wicked have been known to +come to the house of God to scoff and have remained to pray. We are +going to hold a service here in a quarter of an hour. You are invited to +join us. But if you remain, I must ask you to be quiet." + +"Why, you derned, white-livered tenderfoot! I'll show you----" + +He seized upon Mother Tubbs' big Bible and raised it as though he would +fling it upon the ground. Betty gasped. Judson started forward. But +Hunt's voice rang loudest through the room. + +"Tolley! Put that Book down!" + +The compelling tone made the divekeeper pause. He still glared, his face +distorted by wrath; but, as Joe Hurley had once said, the fellow after +all had not the courage of a rabbit. He really expected Hunt to follow +the command with the only show of authority that went in Canyon Pass--the +display of a gun! + +But the parson had made no threatening gesture. He did not even advance +down the room. + +"Dang you!" yelled Tolley, and brought the Bible down upon the pulpit +with such emphasis that the desk rocked. + +The following instant his head was surrounded by a halo of fine +particles, the pungency of which was apparent to the surprised +spectators almost at once. Tolley received the blast of powdered cayenne +full in the face and eyes! + +He gasped--choked--sneezed. He sneezed again, a most vociferous roar of +sound, quite involuntary and spasmodic. The pepper that had been +sprinkled between the leaves of the big book had in one burst pelted +Tolley with its fine grains, filling eyes, nose, and his mouth, for that +had been open to emit another angry shout. + +But now he only shouted for help between sneezes. Tears poured down his +face. He staggered blindly down from the pulpit and begged for the open +air. + +Hunt was first to reach the tortured man and led him forth. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI--LOVE AND LONGING + + +Even Hunt could not express sympathy for the unhappy Tolley. But he did +not join in Judson's laughter or the chatter of the others in the +meeting room. Tolley staggered off toward the Grub Stake, swearing +between the huge sneezes which racked him like successive earthquake +shocks. Hunt returned inside the building. + +The others were grouped near the door, and there were weeping eyes among +them. For the moment the atmosphere in the vicinity of the pulpit was +unbearable. + +Hunt drew forth a handkerchief, tied it across his nose and mouth, and +advanced to the desk. The Bible had not been injured by Tolley's rough +action. But the red pepper was scattered thickly upon the linen pulpit +cloth. He wrapped the book in this cloth and carried it to a window +which looked upon the narrow lane beside the building. Hunt opened this +window; and, leaning over the low sill, dropped the book to the ground. + +He closed that window quickly; but he opened others to ventilate the +room. The damp air quickly relieved the place of the pungent pepper. The +parson did all this quietly. He made no comment on the incident. + +But the gathering company whispered and chattered--the women angrily, the +men more than a little inclined to be amused. + +"Parson," said Bill Judson, his eyes twinkling, "I promised Jib Collins +last night that I'd warn you to go easy on pounding the pulpit because +it was sort o' wabbly. I reckon 'twas Tolley I ought t've warned." + +Betty explained to the woman who furnished the pulpit cloth why it was +not in evidence, and Mother Tubbs when she arrived had to be told why +the pulpit Bible was in retirement. But there was time for little more +than that, as the second whistle blew, and the room began to fill. + +At least an audience was not lacking to hear Hunt preach his first +sermon at Canyon Pass. The seats were comfortably filled. Most of the +congregation were cleanly and neatly dressed; the women in such finery +as they owned. But some of the men, the rougher sort and evidently +present out of curiosity only, looked just as they did on week days. +Smoking, however, was taboo. + +Rosabell Pickett and her piano, a small upright instrument of a rather +uncertain tone, was of great assistance. Without her help the strangely +awkward congregation could scarcely have raised a hymn. + +Hunt made no comment upon the inauguration of the new rgime in the +town. He conducted the service just as he might have conducted a mission +meeting at Ditson Corners. And he preached as carefully thought-out a +discourse as was his wont, although his theme was simple. He held their +respectful attention and, he believed, won their undivided interest. + +After the close of the service the Bible was rescued by two of the women +and cleansed of the pepper which had been so plentifully shaken into it. +Mother Tubbs took Hunt aside. + +"I'm plumb ashamed, parson!" she said indignantly. "To think that Nell +Blossom done such a trick on you!" + +"Nell Blossom?" + +"She done it," said the old woman with conviction. "I missed my box o' +red pepper last evening; but I had no idee what that flighty gal took it +for. And then she said when I tried to get her to come to meetin' this +mornin' that she reckoned it would be too hot up yere for her, and said +for me to keep out o' the front seats." + +"Ah!" + +"She reckoned you'd get to thumping the Book in the middle of the +sermon, maybe. When Boss Tolley hears tell how it come, he won't love +Nell none the better, I reckon." + +The peppering of the pulpit Bible might have made the whole of Canyon +Pass roar with laughter and have brought nothing but ridicule on the +parson had Hunt been the actual victim of Nell Blossom's impish trick. +That Boss Tolley chanced to suffer yielded a number of the townspeople +much amusement. But it afforded others an opportunity to show stronger +approval of what Hunt and his coworkers were trying to do. + +Then, there was a third party. It was chiefly made up of Boss Tolley's +friends. Tolley raved against both Hunt and Nell Blossom, and his +satellites listened and agreed with him. There began to be whispered +about Canyon Pass a story to the effect that the absent Dick Beckworth +would never be seen by mortal eye again, that he had left town in Nell +Blossom's company, and that the cabaret singer, if anybody, could +explain how Dick's horse had come to be found under a heap of fallen +gravel at the edge of Runaway River. + +Joe Hurley did not chance to hear these whispers for some time. In +truth, during the weeks immediately following that first service in +Tolley's old shack, the owner of the Great Hope had found his time fully +occupied by two interests. The mine itself was one, for he believed he +was close upon the unveiling of that rich vein which he had always +believed was the "mother lode" of his claim. The second interest was in +Betty Hunt. + +Hurley sought the society of the Eastern girl whenever he could do so. +Hunt, who was busy himself in several ways--especially in getting +personally acquainted with the people in their homes or where they +worked--was glad Joe could devote himself to Betty. Otherwise his sister +might have found it very lonely here at Canyon Pass. + +The girl from the East allowed Hurley's better qualities to impress her +mind more and more. In her company, too, the young man tried to +eradicate from his speech the vernacular that he knew she despised. Yet +when he grew interested in a subject of conversation, or was excited, it +was the most natural thing in the world for Hurley to revert to the +vivid expressions of the cattle trail and the camp. + +Of course, no man could have prepared himself for college without +obtaining a foundation of book education which Betty must fully approve. +Occasionally Hurley revealed a flash of wit or a literary appreciation +that delighted the girl. + +These weeks of association bred in both young people a confidence and +admiration for each other which under ordinary conditions might have +foretold the growth of a much warmer regard. Hurley began to hope. Yet +Betty gave him no such encouragement as young women are wont to offer a +man in whom they begin to feel a tender interest. + +Midsummer was approaching, and the dry, rarified air of Canyon Pass +sometimes seemed a blast from an open furnace. But when they rode, as +they often did, out upon the heights--above the canyon, for +instance--there was always a cooler and more pleasantly odorous breeze. + +In one of their earlier rides the two had jogged the entire length of +the canyon on the east bank of Runaway River, and even a little way into +the desert, far enough to mark the shallow basin where the last trickle +of what was at Canyon Pass a boisterous torrent disappeared in the +alkali. + +But Betty did not admire even the look of the desert country. There was +something horrible to her mind in the appearance of the dreary waste. +She had never seen the Topaz at sunrise! + +When they mounted to the highlands west of the camp, as they did on this +present day, there were half a dozen trails they might strike into a +country which would reveal beautiful as well as rugged prospects, and to +these Betty could grant admiration. She had begun very soon to feel the +splendors of nature which were so different here from those of her +native Berkshires. + +There was a forest that always intrigued her. The trail led them down +cathedral aisles to the bank of a murmurous stream. To this they +journeyed to-day; and, when within sound of the river, Betty drew her +mount to a stand. + +"It is beautiful, Mr. Hurley," she sighed. "I do not wonder that you so +love this out-of-door life and this wilderness. And then you have always +been used to it. It does make a difference where one is born." + +"You said it!" returned Hurley emphatically. "I pretty near stifle when +I get into a city and have to stay a spell. When I get back to this I +feel like a boy again." He smiled reflectively. "The bard of 'Cactus +Center' hits off my feelings to a fare-ye-well," and he proceeded to +repeat from "The Forester's Return:" + + "'I'm back on the job by the singing river, + Far from the town with its money-mad, + Back where the quaking aspens quiver-- + And I'm glad. + + There's work to do and there's work in plenty, + And it's sleep in the open if fate so wills; + But no man is more than one-and-twenty + In the hills.'" + +"That is fine!" Betty cried with enthusiasm, her eyes sparkling as they +seldom did. "Why, I can almost feel that way myself, sometimes." + +There was a drop in her tone at the end. She looked away and, had he +been able to see into her eyes then, he would have beheld a much +different expression in their dimmed depths. + +"You'd feel like it always if you'd just let yourself, Miss Betty," +Hurley said, with sudden warmth. + +She smiled a little doubtfully, but turned toward him again, having +recovered her composure. Joe's eyes glowed and a strange pallor rose +under his tan. + +"Just think of living out here all your days and enjoying every moment +of them! It's rough, I know, and sort of untamed. But it's a good life, +Miss Betty--a wonderful life!" + +"You--you almost convince me," she stammered, laughing a little +uncertainly, yet gazing at him with a dawning light in her eyes that Joe +had not seen there before. + +It emboldened him; it inspired him to speak the words that were boiling +under the surface of his calm. He was a forthright fellow at best, was +Joe Hurley, and he was very, very much in love with Betty Hunt. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII--A BATTLE IN A GIRL'S HEART + + +"Betty, I want to tell you something," he said, unconsciously urging +Bouncer nearer to the girl's mount. "These weeks you have been here at +Canyon Pass have been the greatest in my life." + +The girl looked at him in a startled way. + +"This is a big country, it is true. Big things are done out here--great +accomplishments achieved--fortunes won. And I have always meant to do my +part in it--both as to making money and winning the better things of life +for myself. I want to see things that are already started, developed, to +watch Canyon Pass grow--in a spiritual as well as a material sense. + +"But something else has got hold of me, Betty. I was living a pretty +wild life before you and Willie came out here. I wrote him I was. I kind +of gloried in being a roughneck, I reckon," he added with a wry smile. +"But all that's changed with me now, Betty--since you came." + +"Mr. Hurley--Joe!" gasped the girl. + +But he raised his hand gently in protest. The gesture asked her to +wait--to hear him through. + +"I've got another object in life--another reason for working and +striving. I reckon a man never does know quite what he's aimin' to do +until he sets a mark before him that isn't altogether selfish. I want to +get ahead just as much as ever--more so. But I want to accomplish what +I'm aimin' at for something higher than just the satisfaction of seeing +the Great Hope pay big and know that folks say Joe Hurley has made a +ten-strike!" + +"You--you will be successful, Joe," she murmured. + +"That's up to you, I reckon," the man said abruptly. "I'm aimin' to +accomplish all this--winning a fortune, helping to put Canyon Pass on the +map, and all--for you, Betty. Just for you." + +"Mr. Hurley! Joe! Don't!" the girl suddenly exclaimed. + +Her face had grown rosy when she began to understand fully what he was +coming to, and then it paled. As she listened to his final outburst the +grieved expression that contracted her lips and dimmed her eyes shocked +him. Before she could speak he knew what answer he was to receive. + +"Don't say anything more--please!" she begged. "It's all wrong. I never +thought this--this would happen. Why, I thought we were just friends." + +"Betty!" ejaculated the man in a tone that wrung the girl's heart. +"Betty, haven't I got a chance with you? I know I'm not worthy----" + +"Oh! Oh! Don't put it that way, Joe," she pleaded. "It really isn't +that!" + +"What's the matter with me then?" he demanded. "Do you want time to +think it over? Or--wait! Betty, is--is it because you left some one back +East?" + +The girl was silent. She turned her head so that he might not see her +face. But Hurley waited. She had to answer--and the halting word was +uttered as though it were wrenched from her. + +"Yes." + +Hurley drew in his breath sharply, and then he was likewise silent. A +minute dragged by. She stole a glance at him at last. He was staring +steadily at her left hand. She had removed her glove, and the hand +rested bare upon her pony's neck. Suddenly her face flamed again. + +"Oh! I do not wear his--his ring," she said hoarsely. "There--there is a +reason. I----" + +"I am not prying into your private affairs, Miss Betty," Hurley said +quickly. "Only--I am sorry I did not know before. Willie never said a +word to warn me." + +"He does not know!" ejaculated the girl. "I--I do not want him to know." + +"He won't learn it from me. Don't fear," said Hurley rather roughly. + +"Oh, Mr. Hurley! I am so--so sorry," whispered the girl. + +The man, with drooping shoulders and hanging head, sat his horse, a +statue of disappointment. He did not move or look at her, as she wheeled +her own mount. + +"I--I think I would like to ride back alone, Mr. Hurley. You--you won't +mind? Afterward I hope we may be quite as good friends as heretofore. I +do appreciate your friendship--Joe." + +Betty could not easily miss the way back. The trail was perfectly plain. +She rode fast at first, for with all her sorrow for Joe Hurley's +disappointment, she could not bear him near her now. + +Because she had no thought of ever considering him other than a friend, +the girl, who was after all quite inexperienced, had not dreamed Hurley +would come to regard her warmly. She could not understand how it had +happened. It seemed unbelievable! + +Love--romance; a lover--happiness; these things were not for Betty Hunt. +She had long ago told herself this. She was devoted to one man only, her +brother. And when he would no longer need her, if that time ever came, +she expected to follow a lonely trail. + +It was not merely Joe Hurley that she could not marry. She could not +marry any man. + +She came out of the majestic forest and reached the open stretch of the +trail from Hoskins. This she followed toward the wagon track which edged +the brink of the Overhang. She had brought her pony to a quieter pace +and jogged along, deep in her unhappy thoughts. Suddenly, turning a +clump of brush, she quite involuntarily drew in her pony and halted. +There was a rider on the trail ahead of her, a stranger. + +It was for only a moment that Betty saw him. Horse and rider were +plunging down a steep declivity beside the trail into a thick copse. Had +he heard her pony and was he seeking to escape observation? The girl was +impressed with this possibility. + +She rode on again, but very cautiously. She held a firm grip upon her +pony's rein. Suppose the stranger should suddenly spur his horse into +the trail again and halt her? From the moment her brother had decided to +come West, and she knew she must attend him, Betty had been fearful of +just such a meeting as she visualized now. + +She half turned her mount, tempted to fly back toward the river and Joe. +There was something very comforting in the thought of Joe's nearness. +Perhaps, if she waited here, he would overtake her. At least, he might +come into sight. + +Then the thought entered her disturbed mind that possibly Hurley had +gone home another way. He knew the country well. He might not follow the +only trail she knew by which to reach Canyon Pass. + +With this to spur her, the girl urged her mount forward. No use in +waiting. The place must be passed. She could see no movement of the +brush where the stranger and his horse had disappeared. But she felt +that he was there! + +Again she gathered up the pony's reins and held them firmly. She gripped +her whip, too, and prepared for a dash. But she continued to walk her +horse. + +She was on the _qui vive_ for a quick start. Her eyes searched the brush +in the little ravine. Suddenly she saw something that was not +vegetation. + +She rode on, but she was more and more disturbed by this object at the +edge of the brush. Then, of a sudden, she realized what it was. It was +the upper part of a man's face. The hatbrim covered all his hair and cut +off much of his forehead; a branch hid all below the point of his nose. + +And yet this patch of face shocked Betty. It seemed that she recognized +it! Was it--could it be---- + +The blood pounded in her temples; her eyes were suffused. At that moment +she could not have spurred her pony had the lurker in the brush sprung +forth into her path! + +Then he moved. She gained a clear glimpse of his entire face before he +dodged again out of sight. His hair rolled upon the collar of his shirt +and he wore a mustache, but no beard. Betty felt sudden relief. + +"It is never Wilkenson--never!" she murmured. "Never him!" + +She knew that her terror had been born in her own mind rather than of +any external danger. The man was nothing to her--no one she had ever +seen. She rode on finally with a sudden access of courage--a feeling that +often comes to one when a peril has been successfully surmounted. + +Indeed when, a little later and in sight of the broader wagon-track, she +heard the pattering hoofs behind her she was not startled. At first she +thought it was Joe Hurley. Then she recognized the fact that there was +more than one horse coming. Even at that she felt confidence. + +She turned to look, and saw three roughly dressed fellows pounding along +the trail on tired and sweating steeds. One of the men had an +authoritative air. It was he who addressed her, sweeping off his hat in +the same way that Joe Hurley was wont to offer greeting. + +"I say, miss," said the man, "have you seen a feller riding this yere +way--couldn't be long ago? Mebbe an hour?" + +"What--what man?" she hesitated. "I rode along here some time ago with +Mr. Joe Hurley----" + +"Shucks, ma'am! I ain't after him," replied the man. "I know Joe mighty +well. And if you are a friend of his, you pass. I'm the sheriff of +Cactus County, and me and my deputies are after a yaller hound that +bamfoozled some honest men out of their hard earnings. He's got the +gold, and we want both him and it! We been trailing him two days." + +Betty trembled so inwardly that she could say nothing; but luckily the +sheriff did not consider there was anything she could say. + +"If you and Joe Hurley come along from Canyon Pass, you'd have seen this +feller, if he'd gone that way. And I'm mighty sure he wouldn't aim for +the Pass. I reckon, boys, Lamberton is our best bet. Good-day to ye, +ma'am." + +He removed his hat again, and the other two did the same. But they did +not ride south at the fork of the trail without casting back more than +one admiring glance at the trim figure and quietly beautiful face of +Betty Hunt. + +She cantered away on the Canyon Pass trail. She had something else to +think of now. By keeping silent had she aided a thief to escape the +hands of justice? But, then, perhaps she had saved a man's life as well! + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII--THE SHADOW ON BETTY'S PATH + + +It was still a beautiful summer morning, but its charm was quite lost +for Betty Hunt. Her appreciation of the beautiful in nature was +submerged by what had so overwhelmed her heart and her thought. + +The thing which had been so long hidden in her mind--that secret which +had changed Betty so desperately at the end of her schooldays--had risen +to the surface again. + +But she had not gone far when something arose that made Betty wish she +had not left Joe Hurley beside the singing river. Her staid old pony +began to limp. + +She was a good rider, but she had not the first idea what to do when a +horse went lame, except to get down and relieve the poor creature of her +weight. But she was much too far from Canyon Pass to walk and lead the +hobbling pony. + +The wise old cow pony made much of the affliction, and when Betty tried +to urge it on the limping horse was a pitiful sight indeed. Betty had +never been taught the proper way to pick up a horse's foot to examine it +for a stone in the frog; but the pony lifted the crippled member in such +a way that the girl managed to get at it. The stone was there, a +sharp-edged flint wedged into the frog, but the girl had no instrument +with which to get it out. + +Fortuitous circumstances do happen elsewhere besides in bald romance. +Unlooked-for help appeared in this moment of Betty's need. She looked up +to see Nell Blossom on her cream-colored pony galloping along the wagon +track, coming from the direction of Canyon Pass. The cabaret singer +glanced at the dismounted girl, nodded, and would have gone right by, +but she chanced to see the pony limp on a yard or two. + +"What's the matter with that hoss?" demanded Nell, reining in her own +pony with both skill and promptness. + +"Oh, Miss Blossom," cried Betty, "there's a stone in his foot, and I +can't get it out." + +"Where's your side partner?" asked Nell, getting slowly down. "That Joe +Hurley oughtn't to let you tenderfoots out of his sight. Not on the open +trail." + +Betty recognized the measure of scorn in this remark, but she was in no +position to resent it. She said as casually as she could: + +"Mr. Hurley stayed behind for something. He may not even come back this +way. I really do not know what to do for the poor creature." + +"Meanin' Joe, or the hoss?" and the blue eyes danced suddenly with +mischief. + +"The poor pony." + +"Get the stone out," Nell said, picking up the pony's foot. + +"It is wedged in tightly--that stone." + +Nell drew from the pocket of her abbreviated skirt a jackknife that +would have delighted the heart of any boy. With an implement in this she +removed the stone in a twinkling. + +"There!" Nell said. "Let him rest here a minute, and he'll be all right. +The old four-flusher! He isn't hurt a mite, but he'd like to have you +think so," and she slapped the pony resoundingly. + +"I'm awfully much obliged to you, Miss Blossom." + +"No need to be. And no need to call me 'Miss.'" + +"Oh--well--Nell, if you like it better," Betty rejoined with a most +disarming smile. "I thank you." + +"That's all right," said Nell in her brusque, but not altogether +unfriendly, way. "I say, Miss Hunt!" + +Betty interrupted with: "Betty, if you please, Nell." + +"Oh! All right," the singer said, the more friendly light sparkling in +her eyes again. "What I wanted to ask you is, is that suit you got on +really what they all wear in the East?" + +"Yes. Since nearly every one rides astride now, the habit is made +mannish." + +"Well, I've straddled a hoss ever since I can remember, but I never seen +anything but a skirt and bloomers or a divided skirt like this on women +before. But I must say them things you wear are plumb fetching." + +Betty was amused. But she had reason for feeling kindly toward Nell +Blossom. + +"You could easily cut over that corduroy skirt you wear into a pair of +breeches like these," she suggested. + +"You reckon so?" asked Nell with eagerness. "I'd like that a pile. But I +don't know----" + +"I could show you. We could cut a pattern. Has anybody in town a sewing +machine?" + +"Sure thing. Mother Tubbs has got one. And I can run up a seam as good +as she can." + +"I'll tell you," proposed Betty with real interest. "You ride back to +the hotel with me, and we'll cut the pattern out of a newspaper." + +Through such seemingly unimportant incidents as this the trend of great +affairs are sometimes changed. Had Nell ridden on she might have seen +the same fugitive Betty had noticed hiding in the chaparral. But Nell +was easily persuaded to attend the parson's sister to the Wild Rose. + +The two girls, who seemed to have so little in common, after all found +much, besides the dressmaking plans, in each other to afford them +interest. + +It was Nell's strangely sweet voice that pleased Betty most. Even when +the Western girl said the rudest things, her voice caressed one's ear. +And Betty began to realize that Nell's "rudeness" was born of frankness +and a certain bashfulness. Most bashful people are abrupt, at times +quite startling, in speech. In another place, among other people, Nell +Blossom would have betrayed timidity and hesitation. But, as she would +have said, she would not have "got far" in Canyon Pass by yielding to +any secret shrinking from her associates. + +"A girl's got to keep her own end up in a place like this. They all root +for me and clap me on and off the stage. But I've got to fight my own +battles," pursued the singer. "Men are like wolves, Betty. The pack will +foller a leader so long as that leader keeps ahead. When the leader goes +plumb lame and falls behind, they eat him." + +"Oh!" + +"I'm popular with the boys. They're strong for me just now. But +'twouldn't take much to make 'em turn on me. I know 'em!" she concluded +grimly. + +She knew a great many things, it was evident, of which Betty Hunt was +ignorant. When the cabaret singer went away with her pattern she left +Betty much to ponder about, which did not fundamentally deal with Nell +Blossom's problems. + +When Nell had gone a grimmer shadow overcame Betty's mind--a shadow that +had lain athwart her path since that bitter season just preceding the +death of her Aunt Prudence Mason and Betty's withdrawal from boarding +school. + +The events of those last weeks at Grandhampton Hall were etched so +deeply upon Betty's memory that they could not be effaced. She believed +that they never would be. + +And on this day all had been rubbed raw again by Joe Hurley's outbreak. +If he had only not spoken as he had! If things had only gone on between +Betty and him as they had been going--calmly, quietly; yes, she confessed +it now, really pleasantly. + +She had come to think of the mining man's attention as an undoubted aid +to her placid life. Her rides with him, and their association in other +ways, their conversations on various subjects had been of greater moment +in establishing her peace of mind than Betty had realized. + +She faced that fact--alone in her own room now--with fuller appreciation +of what Joe Hurley had come to mean to her. + +She was an utterly honest girl. She had faced a terrible and +soul-racking situation before and come to a decision which she had held +to through all the months since she had left school. + +Just what did Joe Hurley mean to Betty Hunt? + +Her first half-fear of Joe, a real dislike of his presumed character, +had melted before a broader understanding of the man and his aims. Joe +was her brother's friend and the chief supporter of Hunt's earnest work +among these people. First of all Betty had begun to like Joe because he +so generously aided the parson. + +Her appreciation of the underlying strata of Joe's character had grown +from day to day of personal association with him. He was a man who would +ultimately achieve big things. She felt this to be his dominant trait. +Yet he had tenderness, generosity, wit, and a measure of "book learning" +of which last she eagerly approved. + +Under ordinary conditions--Betty Hunt admitted this frankly now--she would +have been as strongly attracted by Joe Hurley, once she had got over her +first doubt of his surface qualities, as by any young man she had ever +associated with. + +She did not question her own judgment in Joe's case, no matter how far +wrong the unsophisticated school girl had been to give her heart into +the keeping of another who had seemed a much more charming man! + +Andy Wilkenson--sophisticated, smiling, tender, with all the graces of +person and intellect that any young girl could wish--had set himself to +win Betty Hunt. His intentions had been perfectly honorable, in the +sense thus used. + +Andy had urged marriage--an immediate, if secret, marriage--from the very +first. And there was reason for secrecy. Betty wished to finish her +course at Grandhampton Hall. Aunt Prudence must not know of this great, +new thing that had come into Betty's life. Even Ford must not be told. + +For, after all, the girl realized that she was very young--much younger, +even, it seemed, than Andy Wilkenson. Andy was so much more sensible +than she! + +Betty feared she could not keep her mind sufficiently on her studies to +stand well at the end of the semester if she was not utterly sure of +Andy. Once married to him, of course, Andy would be hers entirely! No +other woman could ever mean anything to him if the unsuspicious, +broken-down old minister in a neighboring town joined them in holy +bonds. + +Aunt Prudence would forgive her when it was all over and she went home +with her diploma and her marriage certificate in her trunk. It would be +absolutely wicked to disturb poor Aunt Prudence by a letter either +announcing the engagement, which was for a very brief term, or her +marriage. For Betty's elderly relative was ill--worse than either Betty +or her brother dreamed of at the time. + +The opportunities Betty had to be with Andy were not many. The rules of +the Hall were very strict. Even her introduction to the young man from +the West had been clandestine. Unknown to Betty, Wilkenson, learning all +he could about certain girls in her set at the school, had selected +Betty Hunt deliberately as his mark. + +Betty's school fees were paid by an old aunt who was reputed very rich. +The aunt was known to be devoted to her. All that she had was sure to be +Betty's when Aunt Prudence died. Wilkenson had even gone so far as to +learn much more particularly about the state of Aunt Prudence Mason's +health than Betty herself knew. + +One item only escaped Andy Wilkenson's cunning mind. It was not until +they had been married and Wilkenson was driving Betty back to the Hall +by unfrequented roads late in the afternoon that the small but appalling +oversight on his part broke upon his understanding. + +"You know, girlie, I haven't got much money. I came East yere"--how Betty +had loved that drawl then--"to get me a stake. I did a fool thing and +threw away--just threw away--my bank roll out in Crescent City." + +"Oh, _money_!" replied Betty with fine scorn. "You can go to work at +something, Andy, and earn more." + +"Ye-as," he agreed in a tone that might have revealed a good deal to a +more sophisticated person than the girl who had so recently been Betty +Hunt, "so I can. But I may not make any good connection before you get +out of that school. And then I'd like us to go back West. I'm known out +there. A man can always do better in his own stamping-grounds." + +"Oh, the West must be wonderful," murmured Betty, with clasped hands. + +"Yep. But no place is wonderful unless you've got a good stake. Now, how +about it, Betty? This old aunt of yours is pretty well fixed, eh?" + +The girl was startled. "Wealthy? I think so. Aunt Prudence has been very +kind to me." + +"She'll keep on being kind to you, I reckon?" + +"Of course! The dear soul. You'll just love her, Andy." + +"Maybe. But I don't think I'll risk trying her out. Not just yet. She's +pretty sick, anyway, isn't she?" + +Betty told him that Aunt Prudence was feeble. The girl did not know at +that time how serious the woman's malady was. Only on the day following +did the telegram come recalling her to Amberly! + +"Anyway," Wilkenson observed, after some thought, "you're her heir, +Betty." For a second time the girl was startled by his speech. She began +to peer at him now in the dusk in a puzzled fashion. + +"What I'm aimin' at," said Wilkenson quite calmly, "is that we'd better +keep all this quiet until Auntie goes over the divide. No use stirring +up possible objections. She'll leave you her money, you say. We'll take +that money and go back West. I know a place I can buy in Crescent City +that will pay big returns. I will let the pasteboards alone, myself. I +always get foolish if I deal 'em wild instead of for the house. We'll +cut a swath out there, Betty, that'll make 'em sit up and take notice. +Sure thing!" + +"Andy! What are you talking about?" asked the incredulous girl. +"Auntie's money---- It's all invested. I know it is. It's tied up." + +"Shucks! we can untie it," and Wilkenson laughed. "No banker's knots +mean much to me. And four or five per cent. interest ain't a patch on +what I'll make for you when we get to going." + +"But, Andy," she said weakly, "I know all about Auntie's will. I have +even read it. She made it years ago when Ford and I were little. And she +is a woman who never changes her mind. Ford has papa's little fortune. +Aunt Prudence gives me her property; but I can spend only the income +from it until I am thirty." + +"What's that?" His tone made her jump. "Thirty?" Then he thought. "Well, +shucks, honey," he drawled, "you're a married woman now. That makes you +practically of age in this State, and the courts----" + +"It makes no difference, Andy. The will is made that way for that very +purpose," the girl said frankly. + +"For what purpose?" + +"So that--that my husband cannot touch the principal. Until I am thirty I +cannot touch it myself." + +An oath--a foul, blistering expression--parted the man's lips. In the +deepening gloom of the evening she could see his face change to a mask +of indignant disappointment. She did not shrink from him. She did not +plead with him. In that dragging minute, Andy had stopped the car with a +jerk, Betty understood everything about this Westerner. And from that +instant had germinated and grown all the hatred and fear of the West and +its people that Betty Hunt had betrayed when first her brother had +suggested the journey to Canyon Pass. + +She had stepped out of the car. She had torn in small pieces the paper +the old minister had given her. She had drawn from her finger the plain +band Wilkenson had placed upon it, which she must have hidden in any +case, and thrown it from her into the bushes beside the way. + +Then Betty Hunt had commanded Andrew Wilkenson never to speak to her +again--never to try to see, write, or otherwise communicate with her. She +walked away from him. She heard the roar of the engine after a moment +and knew he turned the car and drove away. + +And that had been the end of Betty's romance. She had not seen the +Westerner again. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX--A GOOD DEAL OF A MAN + + +During the ensuing weeks the cabaret singer went often to see Betty at +the hotel. They even rode together, for Joe Hurley suddenly became so +busy at the Great Hope Mine that he was forced to excuse himself, so he +said, from accompanying the Eastern girl on those pleasant jaunts which +both had so enjoyed. + +The two girls actually enjoyed each other's society and found more than +a riding habit in which to feel a mutual interest. The friendship grew +out of a hunger in the hearts of both Nell and Betty. + +The parson did not make a third in their rambles, nor was he often in +sight when Nell called on Betty. The latter would not have encouraged +any intimacy between the mining-camp girl and Hunt under any +circumstances. She did not dream that her brother felt more than passing +interest in the half-wild Nell. + +The latter never attended the services held in Tolley's old dance hall. +But the Passonians in general came to accept the religious exercises as +an institution and supported them fairly in point of contributions and +attendance. There was yet, however, strong opposition to the parson and +his work. Nor did it all center around Boss Tolley. + +Nell, soon after the beginning of her acquaintance with Betty, stopped +singing "This Is No Place for a Minister's Son" and took up no other +ditty aimed in any particular at the Reverend Willett Ford Hunt and his +work. + +As for Hunt himself, he went forward, accepting both praise and blame +with equal equanimity. But he began to be worried secretly about Joe +Hurley. + +Hunt supplemented the morning preaching with a Sunday school in the +afternoon and a general service in the evening, at which he usually gave +a helpful talk on more secular lines than his morning sermon. + +Hunt would have been glad to have had more and better singing; but +although Rosabell Pickett did her best, the song service was far from +satisfactory. The parson never passed Colorado Brown's place in the +evening and heard Nell's sweet voice that he was not covetous. He would +never be satisfied--but he whispered this not even to Betty--until he +heard that voice leading his congregation in the meeting room. + +The rougher element that had at first attended the meetings mainly out +of curiosity soon drifted away. + +Hunt was not, however, above carrying his work out into the highways and +byways of the town. If the men would not come to his services, he +carried a measure of his helpful efforts to them. He did more than visit +the homes of Canyon Pass. He went, especially at the noon hour, to where +the men were at work. + +Hunt never made himself offensive. He did not join the workmen at the +mines or washings as a parson, but as another man, interested in their +labor and in themselves. + +Once a mule-drawn ore wagon broke down on the road to the ore-crushers. +It blocked the way of other teams. The parson took off his coat, helped +raise the wagon-body so the axle could be blocked, and aided in getting +on another wheel in place of the broken one. + +A man working alone in a ditch some distance from the Oreode was so +unfortunate as to bring a rock down and get caught by the leg. His +shouts for help were first heard by Hunt, who was striding along the +wagon track. Without other aid the parson pried up the rock and drew the +man out from under it. Then he carried the fellow, with his lacerated +leg, to his shack, where he lived with his partner; and between the +partner and Hunt the injured man was nursed as long as he needed +attention at all. + +This incident was the spark that started the idea of the hospital for +Canyon Pass in Hunt's mind. He began to talk hospital to everybody, even +to Slickpenny Norris. The banker threw up his hands and began to squeal +at last. + +"That's just it! That's just it!" he cried. "I knew one thing would lead +to another if a parson come into this town. I told that crazy Joe Hurley +so. He had no business ever to have brought you here." + +"What has my coming to Canyon Pass got to do with it?" Hunt asked +mildly. "The need of a hospital--there are always accidents happening at +the mines--was here long before I came. If a man is hurt badly he dies +before help can get here. Doctor Peterby is no surgeon--and you know, Mr. +Norris, he is not always to be trusted. This towns needs a place where +an injured man can get surgical treatment and proper nursing." + +"I don't see why," muttered Norris. "We were getting along quite well +enough before you butted in." + +Hurley, however, agreed with his friend. In spite of the fact that he +seemed to have "fallen from grace" a good bit, the owner of the Great +Hope was strong for all secular improvement of the town, whatever may +have been his private emotions regarding the religion that Hunt +represented. The movement for a hospital took form and grew. + +It was not these things, however, that endeared Hunt to the hearts of +the rougher element of Canyon Pass. And in time--and that before +fall--some of the toughest hard-rock men and muckers working in the mines +and at the Eureka Washings openly praised the Reverend Willett Ford +Hunt. + +Hunt one noon had given the men who gathered in a quiet place to eat +their lunches a little talk on first aid to the injured. He had sent to +Denver for several first-aid kits and was now going about from mine to +mine explaining the more important uses of the articles in the box. + +The men understood the helpfulness of this. Neglected wounds meant +blood-poisoning, one of the most painful scourges a prospector or miner +working far beyond the reach of surgeon and hospital, can have. It was +well to know, too, how to make a proper tourniquet, and how to lay a +bandage so that it would hold well. + +The whistle blew and the great engine was started. The men drifted away +to their several jobs. There were three pipes at work tearing down the +bank on the upper bench at the Eureka Washings, and others below. The +force of the water thrown from the nozzles of these pipes rocked the +mighty hydraulic "guns" and caused the men astride of them to hold on +with both hands. It took a husky fellow to guide that stream spouting +from between his knees. + +Hunt had returned the kit to the superintendent's office and climbed to +the upper bench, intending to go over the highland to the Great Hope +Mine, which was nearer the West Fork River. Hi Brownell, who straddled +the middle gun up here, risked waving a cordial hand at the parson when +he saw the latter departing. The noise of the hurtling streams drowned +Hi's voice, of course. + +Just as Hunt returned a smiling salute to the young fellow--one in whom +the parson was deeply interested, for Hi was really a worth-while +boy--the accident happened that was fated to mark this day as one long to +be remembered at Canyon Pass. Incidentally the occasion, more than any +other one thing, brought about the establishment of the new hospital. + +The whine and splash of the streams of water drowned most other sounds. +But of a sudden, as Hunt was turning his back on the scene, he heard a +sharp crack--a sound that would have penetrated the thunderous rumble of +a railroad train. + +Hunt wheeled. He saw Hi Brownell thrown high into the air as though from +a viciously bucking broncho, come down sprawling, and the savage stream +from his pipe strike the man and carry him, as though he were a leaf on +a torrent, into the cavity in the bank, against which the nozzle of the +pipe was aimed. + +The flapping limbs and struggling torso of Brownell were visible for a +moment only; then down upon the spot roared soil, gravel, and larger +stones, of which the bank's strata were built. + +Unguided, the shooting stream from the gun swept first one way along the +bench, then the other. It corrugated the face of the bank deeply for +yards in either direction. For a moment Hunt saw again the struggling +body of the injured man at the edge of the fallen rubble. Then came +another slide to cover it completely! + +The broken hydraulic gun fell over on its side. The parting of some +section of it was what had thrown Brownell into the air and into the +path of its stream. + +But before the other gunners on the bench who saw Brownell's accident +could shut off their streams, Hunt had acted. Some muckers tried to run +in to seize Brownell or dig him out from under the gravel that had +fallen, but the stream from the writhing pipe swept them aside like +chips. Half a dozen were rolling in the mud of the bench. + +Hunt sprang directly for the seat of the trouble. That hose-pipe had to +be controlled before a thing could be done to help the buried Brownell. +Precious moments were lost signaling to the engineer below to shut off +power. + +Hunt had not played football on his college team for nothing. He made an +extremely low "tackle," for he went down on his knees and then slid +along through the mud to grapple with the writhing pipe that had broken +away from its fastenings. He got hold of it and wrestled with it for a +few seconds as two men might wrestle on the mat. When the other men came +running from below Hunt had conquered the formidable thing, and the +stream was shooting into the air, where all the harm it did was to +shower some of the men as it fell back to earth. + +For thirty seconds or more he held it so, until the stream was shut off +below. The others ran for the pile that had overwhelmed Brownell. They +dug into it with their bare hands, got hold of one leg, and dragged him +forth like a wet rag out of a pan of dishwater! + +He was alive; nor were there many bones broken. But he was a terrible +sight, and they had to work over him for some minutes before he breathed +again. Hunt went at this task, too, as coolly as did the superintendent. +That first-aid kit came in very handily at this juncture. + +The men stood around for a little while and watched and talked. The +accident had come near being a tragedy. + +"Believe me," said one rough fellow, "that parson is a good deal of a +man. I'm for him, strong!" + +"You'd even go to church for him, would you, Jack?" chuckled his mate. + +"Church? I'd go to a hotter place than that for him!" was the prompt and +emphatic reply. + + + + +CHAPTER XX--MURDER WILL OUT + + +Joe Hurley had lost none of his admiration for his college friend whom +he had encouraged to come West. He still believed the Reverend Willett +Ford Hunt was the very man to find the heart of Canyon Pass. Nor did +events as they developed disprove his pre-judgment of the result of +Hunt's coming. + +But it must be confessed a sour note had come into the life of the owner +of the Great Hope. He was a worker; he was energetic; he never under any +circumstances neglected business--not even when he had been most +attentive to Betty Hunt. But he now had little joy in his work and +looked for recreation to a means he had eschewed for the most part since +the Easterners had arrived. + +Like most men of his class and upbringing, the ex-cow-puncher found +satisfaction for a certain daring trait in his character at the gambling +table. The coarser forms of pleasure in the honkytonks did not attract +Joe Hurley. He danced occasionally with the better class of girls; he +never drank more than he thought was good for him--and he carried his +drink well; but when he "sat in" at a game of stud poker or went up +against the wheel--roulette was popular with the Passonians--he admitted +in his saner moments that he "didn't know when he had enough." The wild +streak in the fellow showed through the veneer of repression as it had +when he was in college. + +Hunt could not feel as lenient now toward these escapades as he once +had. Not alone had the Easterner's outlook on life become more serious; +but after five years Joe Hurley, he thought, should have "grown up." He +was, however, too wise to utter a single word in opposition to Joe's +renewed course in moral retrogression. He took Sam Tubbs to task when he +met that old reprobate staggering home from the saloons and gave him a +tongue-lashing that Sam admitted afterward made his wife's nagging seem +like a cradle lullaby. Hunt faced down Slickpenny Norris on the open +street, to the delight of the bystanders, over the banker's +niggardliness in opposing the building and equipment of the hospital. +The parson had been known to seize upon two well-grown young fellows +fighting in a vacant lot to the delight of their fellows, knock their +heads together resoundingly and send each home "with a flea in his ear." +But he had not a word of admonition it seemed for Joe Hurley. + +Yet Hunt was troubled about his friend. He feared Betty knew something +about the reason for the change in the mine owner. But here again he was +silent. He knew his sister well--too well to try to gain her confidence +on any matter which she would not give gratuitously. + +Hunt had been much too busy at the time when Hurley began to withdraw +from Betty's companionship to notice the gradual drifting apart of the +two. When the brother awoke to the fact that his friend and his sister +seemed to be mere acquaintances again, Betty had found a close companion +in Nell Blossom. + +Under certain circumstances this latter fact might have encouraged Hunt +to consider his own influence with Nell as increasing; but by this time +he had gained more than a casual acquaintance with the cabaret singer's +character. Joe Hurley had not written too strongly about Nell's +stubbornness. Hunt had undertaken in several ways to break down the wall +the girl had raised between them. She fought him off with all the vigor +of a wildcat and without much more politeness than one of those felines +would have shown. + +He met her at Mother Tubbs'--not by intention; but he was rather +frequently there to confer with the uncultured but very sensible old +woman. Nell snubbed him, or scorned him, or was downright impudent to +him, just as her mood chanced to be. He had to warn the old woman to pay +no attention to the girl's attitude or there would have been a flare-up +between the two. And Hunt very well knew that while Nell lived with +Mother Tubbs she was pretty safe. + +He heartily approved, too, of her intimacy with Betty. He could not +gauge the influence Betty was having on the self-willed girl; but he had +confidence in his sister, and he knew Nell would only be helped by the +association and that Betty would not be injured. + +The opposition of Boss Tolley and his gang was the last thing to trouble +the placidity of Parson Hunt's soul. They snapped and barked, but had as +yet come to no close-quarters since Tolley's adventure with the +pepper-besprinkled Bible. That tale had convulsed the Passonians with +mirth, and even when weeks later it was retold, it brought ready laughs +from the citizens. + +It was now fall, a golden-and-red autumn that enthralled the visitors +from the East when they looked abroad to the hills of a morning. Even +Betty confessed that the glories of the Berkshires at the same season +were surpassed by this sight. She had come now to appreciate the rude +and bold lines of the mountains and the gaudy color schemes of +frost-bitten shrubbery intermixed with the emerald of the _Conifer_. + +The early brightening of the face of nature by these autumnal tints +foretold for the natives of Canyon Pass an early winter. To make this +assurance doubly sure, old Steve Siebert and Andy McCann came wandering +back to the Pass weeks ahead of their scheduled time. + +It was a fair enough day when the two old prospectors came in--McCann in +the morning and Siebert along toward night. In all the time they had +been absent, after getting out of the canyon itself, they had not been +in sight of each other. One had prospected east of the Runaway, and the +other west. Their activities in fact had been at least a hundred miles +apart. But both had seen signs--unmistakable signs--of approaching winter. + +They met as usual the amused inquiries of the Passonians regarding the +"ten-strike" they had been expected to make. Was there due to be a +stampede for the scene of the claims they had staked out? Had they +brought in samples of the "real stuff" that would start a regular +Cripple Creek boom somewhere out in the Topaz? + +The two old men grinned, their watery eyes blinking, and "stood the +gaff" as patiently as they always did. Why did they spend half the year +in the ungodly loneliness of the desert places, and in the end bring +nothing back with them? Not even an additional coating of tan, for their +leathery faces and hands were already so darkened that the sun and wind +had no effect upon them. + +"You old duffers ain't right in your minds," said Judson to Andy McCann. +"Just as loco as you can be. Ye never did make a strike and ye never +will----" + +"Lots you know about it, Bill," grumbled McCann, his jaws moving +stiffly. + +"Well, you never did, did you?" demanded the storekeeper, with twinkling +eyes. + +"If you were yere twenty years ago----" + +"You know derned well I was, Andy," put in Judson. "Reckon I was. And +before." + +"You recommember the flood then?" + +"I ain't lost my mem'ry," muttered Judson. + +"All right. Keep _that_ in yer mind," said Andy, shaking his head in +senile fashion. "There was a discovery made that year that you--nor +nobody else in Canyon Pass--knowed anything about. Talk about the mother +lode! Well!" + +"Is that so?" cried the storekeeper eagerly. "Then why wasn't it worked? +I knowed you and Steve brought in samples of the right stuff; but----" + +"Steve," snarled McCann, his whole manner changing. "That derned rat? +Him? He didn't have no more to do with findin' that vein----Huh! Huh!" He +coughed, fell silent, went out of the store, deaf to any further +questions. + +It was Joe Hurley, standing with Hunt on Main Street, who was first to +welcome Steve Siebert as he came along, riding his lean mare and towing +the burro that looked as though it might have been carved rudely out of +desert rock. + +"Well, old-timer, I certainly am glad to see you," the mining man said. +"What luck?" + +"Oh, so-so," croaked the prospector. + +"Ain't going to tell us you worked all summer just to get free air?" and +Joe chuckled. + +"Sumpin' like it," replied Siebert, and grinned toothlessly. + +"You do beat my time! Goin' to come over to the Great Hope? There's a +job for you." + +"Mighty nice of you, Joe. I'll come," said the old man, nodding. + +"And not a darn thing to show for all your pickin' and smellin' about +the Topaz since spring?" + +"Not what you'd call a bonanza." + +"Youbetcha!" ejaculated Hurley. He turned with a grin to Hunt. "Meet +Parson Hunt, Steve. We've done more in the Pass this summer than you +have on the desert. We've got us a real parson, and we're aimin' to have +a sure-enough church." + +"That's a good word," agreed Steve solemnly, leaning to shake Hunt's +hand. The old man's palm was as dry and scaly as a lizard's back. +"There's a heap o' folks yere that need religion. I understand that +derned Andy McCann's got back." + +The gibe was obvious. Joe grinned with appreciation. + +"Yep," he said. "And he hasn't got any more to show for his summer's +work than you have." + +"Him!" snarled Steve. "Of course he ain't. That dumb-head wouldn't find +gold in the mint. No, sir! Never did find any----" + +"I thought he did make a ten-strike once, but that the slide twenty +years ago knocked his claim into a cocked-hat?" + +"What? Him? Does he say so?" ejaculated Siebert, his wrinkled, tanned +countenance flaming angrily. + +"I heard tell," and Joe chuckled. + +"He's a plumb liar. He didn't find any such thing. If there was any such +discovery made in them days, it was me that done it. Youbetcha! But +_him_! Huh! Anyway, it's all buried deeper 'n the Pit--take it from me," +and, grumbling, Steve Siebert rode on. + +"Believe me, Willie," said Hurley, "there's a case for you. Try to get +those two together." + +"These two old men are enemies?" asked Hunt quietly. + +"That's no name for it. They hate each other as only two fellers can who +once were the closest friends. Old Steve and Andy were once as close as +twins. But they tell me for twenty years they have been snarling at and +back-biting each other something scandalous. If you want to introduce +love and kindness into the hearts of Canyon Pass folks, Willie, just +give those two old ruffians a whirl." + +He laughed--not the kind of laugh he would have uttered some weeks +before. There was a sneering note in Joe Hurley's voice now when he +spoke of Hunt's work and the better things of life. The parson noted it +now as he had often noticed it of late, but he said nothing in comment +at this time. He merely observed, before separating from Joe to return +to the hotel for supper: + +"Drop into the meeting room to-night, Joe. You haven't shown much +interest in the Men's Club lately, and the work should have your +approval. Besides, there are certain business matters that must be +discussed at once." + +"Well," said Joe gruffly. + +He did not promise to attend. He did not attend. + +"I wonder what kept Joe away?" Hunt ventured to Judson, as they, the +last of the company, left the meeting room and the parson locked the +door. That was never left unlocked since Nell Blossom's trick with +Mother Tubbs' Bible. "I expected him to-night to give us his views on +that matter." + +The old storekeeper turned to him and grinned. "Joe's mighty busy, I +reckon," he said. + +"In the evening?" + +"This evening, youbetcha!" + +"In just what way, Judson? What's up your sleeve?" + +"My funnybone," chuckled the storekeeper. "And I have to laugh. Just +about once in so often Joe seems to lose ev'ry mite of sense he was born +with. He thinks he can beat the man that got the first patent out on +stud poker." + +"Ah! I know Joe used to like cards. When he was East. But now----Is it as +bad as you intimate, Judson?" + +"Some worse, I'm free to say," declared the old man. "Joe's gone up +against Colorado Brown's dealer, Miguel, several times lately. They get +up a round game of a few fellers--all friends. But Miguel is always +playin' for the house. He's a wonder. 'Last Card Mike' they sometimes +call him. He seems to be able to read clean through the backs of any +pack o' cards you put up to him. He's a wizard--no mistake." + +"You mean that Joe is losing money in this game?" asked Hunt, with some +apprehension. + +"Me, I'd just as soon bet on flies with their shoes stuck in molasses as +to play stud. Youbetcha!" returned Judson, with a chuckle. + +Hunt separated from the storekeeper and walked slowly toward the Wild +Rose. He passed Colorado's place; then he turned back. It is a matter of +much moment for one man to interfere in another's private affairs, and +no one realized this fact better than the Reverend Willett Ford Hunt. +His office could not excuse any unasked advice or intervention in +Hurley's chosen course, no matter how much Hunt desired to restrain his +friend. + +He hesitated again when he faced the swinging doors. There was not much +noise inside. This was not a Saturday night and the amusement places +along Main Street were not crowded. Most of the Passonians who wasted +their money in the several places of this character spent it all and +spent it quick. The mid-week nights were lean for the dive keepers. + +It was not lack of courage that restrained Mr. Hunt from preaching a +general revival and a bitter war against the cohorts of the devil in +this town. Merely, the time was not yet ripe. Sometimes he feared that +it never would be ripe. Certainly he had not yet reached the heart of +Canyon Pass. Since the first shack had been built here at the junction +of the two forks, the enemy had been in power; and it was now well +entrenched. + +But to-night Hunt was impressed by the feeling that his friend needed +him. Joe was slipping away from him. For some unexplained reason the +very man who had brought him here to the Pass and coaxed the idea of a +spiritual uplift of the place into germination, was backsliding. + +The parson began to feel that he could not stand by and see this thing +go on. He pushed through the flaps of the door. He had seldom entered +this, or any of the other saloons, in the evening. + +His entrance now, however, did not serve to startle any of the habitus. +Brown himself came forward to shake hands with the parson. Some of the +players at the green-covered tables nodded to Hunt. The three-piece +orchestra in the dance hall at the back was droning out a fox-trot. Nell +was not singing. The principal interest seemed to be about a corner +table at which the parson saw Joe Hurley sitting. + +After a word to Brown in greeting, the parson walked over to this corner +table and joined the group standing about it. Hurley looked up, grinned, +and said: + +"Hullo, Willie! Want me?" + +"I've something to ask you--by and by, when you are done." + +"Looks like an all-night session," returned Hurley, immediately giving +his attention to the cards again. "Mike, here, is trying to skin me +alive and the sheep is bleatin'. Deal 'em, Mike." + +Hunt said nothing more; but he remained. By the grim set of Joe's lips +and the silence of the company about the table, he knew that the moment +was unpropitious for any insistence on his part that his friend give him +his attention. Yet he had the feeling that something was going to +happen, that his place was here at this gambling table rather than at +the hotel with Betty. + +The event that he subconsciously expected, however, came from outside. +There was a sudden clamor at the door, the flaps swung in sharply, and +several men entered. Smithy, Judson's gangling young clerk, was the most +noticeable member of the new group. He had a cut over his right eye, a +puff on his cheek-bone that could have been made by nothing but a heavy +fist, and when he spoke a crimson gap in his upper jaw betrayed the +absence of two teeth. + +"What's happened to you, Smithy?" demanded Colorado Brown, coming +forward quickly. It would not be to the benefit of the house to have the +gamblers disturbed at this moment. "Somebody punch you?" + +"I'll thay they did!" lisped Smithy. He was half sobbing, but he was mad +clear through. + +"They didn't improve your looks none," said Colorado. + +"Never mind muh lookth," said Smithy. "I want to know what you fellers +think of this?" + +"I just told you. Whoever done it didn't make you any handsomer," +interposed the proprietor of the hall. "Now, if you've had a fight +outside, don't bring it in here. We're plumb peaceable here to-night, we +are." + +"Wait till you hear what the kid's got to say, Colorado," put in one of +those that had entered with Smithy. + +"Spit it out!" advised the proprietor. + +"I want to know what Mr. Joe Hurley thinks of this?" Smithy managed to +make plain. "What do you think they are saying about Nell Blossom?" + +"Nell Blossom?" + +Hurley's voice did not join the general chorus which repeated the +cabaret singer's name. But he looked up, his gaze met that of the +parson, and a lightning glance of understanding passed between them. + +"What's eatin' on you, Smithy?" demanded Colorado Brown. + +"Up in Tolley's. I was just in there. I heard Tolley and Tom Hicks and +some others of his gang talkin'. I couldn't help hearin' what was said, +and when I went for 'em this--this is what I got." + +He almost choked on the words. Joe Hurley rose up as though a slow +spring uncoiled beneath him. + +"What did they say, Smithy?" he asked, and the tone of his voice seemed +to quell all other sounds. + +"Why, the skunks!" cried Smithy, "they said Nell Blossom shot Dick the +Devil last spring and flung him over the wall of the canyon into Runaway +River." + + + + +CHAPTER XXI--THE DRAMA OF A LIE + + +The tense silence that followed Smithy's half-sobbing speech marked the +poignancy of the moment and the utter stupefaction of his hearers. To +all but Joe Hurley and Hunt such an accusation as this aimed at Nell +Blossom was entirely unlooked for. If the crowd understood anything at +all, they understood that Boss Tolley, if he had started the scandal, +courted annihilation! + +Indeed the first question fired at Smithy following his statement was: + +"Why didn't you fill 'em with lead, Smithy?" + +"I didn't have no gun," replied the grocery clerk. "And Tom Hicks downed +me before I could get at Tolley." + +"Did he say it, Smithy?" demanded Colorado Brown. + +"'Twas him says he knows all about it. Says that Nell killed Dick +Beckworth." + +They talked. But it was Joe Hurley who acted. He threw down the hand of +cards he held. + +"Mike," he said to the Mexican, Miguel Santos, "you know I ain't in the +habit of betraying cold feet. But I got some business to tend to. +Colorado," he added to the proprietor, "I'll settle when I come in +again. I'm in a hurry." + +With the quickness of a cat he slipped through the crowd about the table +and Smithy and shot for the door. But the parson was at his elbow before +he could get through the portal. + +"You'd better keep out of this, Willie," Hurley said between his teeth. +"There's goin' to be the devil to pay in a minute." + +"It is as much my business as it is yours, Joe," said Hunt, in step with +his long stride on the side-walk where they headed toward the Grub +Stake. "And we must do something before those fellows back there wake +up." + +"What?" was Joe's startled ejaculation. + +"That stupid Smithy has started something. Some of those fellows will be +out after us in a minute, and if they get to the Grub Stake before we +straighten things out, there will be trouble." + +"Trouble? Youbetcha there'll be trouble! And you'd better keep out of +it, Willie." + +"I mean to stop it," said Hunt softly. + +But Joe Hurley did not hear him. He turned abruptly and burst into the +main entrance of the Grub Stake. It did not take Joe Hurley's trained +glance to see that something had happened here. Hunt sensed, too, that +if there had already been trouble, more of the same kind was expected. + +The girl who usually presided at the door--the girl who parked your gun +if you wanted to play, or your spurs if you wanted to dance and gave you +checks in return for them--had got out of the way. Several of the gaming +tables were empty. There was not a man standing in front of the bar, and +Boss Tolley's assistants behind the "rosewood" had "stepped out." + +Hunt knew at first glance that some of the toughest men in the camp were +gathered here--either about the remaining tables or with Boss Tolley at +the far end of the bar by the door of his tiny office where the safes +stood. That office, Joe had told the parson, was an arsenal. There was a +bodyguard around the dive keeper of at least six men. + +Joe Hurley saw that all this group was armed. A flash of the several men +at the gaming tables assured the mining man that they might be neutral, +save perhaps the dealers for the house. But he realized that Tolley's +gang was primed for mischief. It was a wonder that Smithy, the poor +fool, had got out of the place alive! + +Hunt had pushed ahead of Joe the moment they stepped inside the door. +They were both big men, and Joe's advantage of height could not hide the +parson's bulk. In a flash, before a word was spoken, Joe took two long +strides sideways and got behind the first table, which was empty. And +he, by this act, left Hunt out of the line of any bullet aimed by the +gang standing at the end of the bar at himself. + +A gun had not yet been drawn, however, on either side. Nor had a word +been spoken by either Tolley and his gang or by the two men who had +entered so suddenly. Still, not a man in the barroom missed the +significance of Joe Hurley's strategic move. + +Sam Tubbs, withered old scarecrow that he was, had been facing the door +at a near-by table. It was evident that Steve Siebert, the returned +desert rat, had been treating Tubbs to more liquor than was good for +him. But Sam had some wit left. + +Joe's action forecast the popping of guns--instantly! Sam had seen too +many such brawls to play the part of "innocent bystander" if he could +help it. He let his feet slide out from under him, shot down in the +chair on the small of his back, and passed out of sight under the table +with all the celerity of an imp in a pantomime. + +Steve Siebert, however, did not even remove his pipe from his lips, but +wheeled in his chair and glared from Joe to Tolley and his bodyguard. +The old man swung a heavy, old-style six-gun low on his hip. But he did +not touch it--then. + +Joe's attitude was as wary as that of a puma about to spring. He +crouched. By one quick motion he could overturn the table, drop behind +it, and use it as a bulwark. But he must move quickly enough to escape, +perhaps, seven bullets from as many guns. + +It was Joe Hurley who first spoke. + +"Tolley!" he said fiercely but clearly, "I warned you what I'd do if you +repeated that lie about the girl. You remember, well enough, you hound! +Stand out from those bootlickers of yours and take your medicine." + +The challenge got no response from Tolley but a grimace like that of a +wolf in a trap. He did not make a motion to draw his own gun. He was too +wise to do that in any event, for he knew he could not beat Joe to it! +And then--what did he subsidize these gunmen for if not for such an +emergency as this? + +"Open your trap, you hound!" commanded Joe. "If you won't fight, speak!" + +"Wait a moment." + +The parson had actually not halted at all when he entered with Joe +Hurley. He had merely slowed up. He was approaching Tolley and his men +down the long length of the bar. But when he spoke Tom Hicks half drew +his gun. + +"Mr. Tolley," Hunt said in the same clear but quiet voice, "will +undoubtedly explain and apologize for what we understand he has said +about the young woman in question. Come now, Mr. Tolley! you are ready +to take back your words, aren't you? You have no more proof, have you, +of your--er--mis-statement than you had several weeks ago when you +discussed the affair with Mr. Hurley in my hearing?" + +"What are you butting in for?" returned Tolley with a threatening growl. + +"For the sake of peace, Mr. Tolley," explained the parson determinedly. + +"Get back, Willie!" Joe ordered from the background. + +He dared not draw his gun, for if he did Hunt would be right in the line +of fire again. With a single motion Tom Hicks could get into action. + +"You derned buttinsky!" spat out Tolley vengefully. "Mind what you are +doing, or you'll stop lead." + +"That will not make a lie the truth, Mr. Tolley," rejoined Hunt, now +squarely between the group of desperadoes and Joe Hurley's position. + +"You mean to say I'm a liar?" blustered Tolley. + +"I mean to say that the story you have repeated about the young woman +and the man you say has disappeared has no foundation in fact and that +you have in your possession no proof to back your statement. If that is +calling you a liar, Mr. Tolley, then consider yourself so called!" + +There was a little stir among the listeners at the tables--a stir of +approval, and one voice ejaculated: + +"What's it all about?" + +Evidently not all of these men now present had been at hand when Smithy +had taken offense at Tolley's words earlier in the evening which +precipitated this situation. Hunt, without raising his voice at all, +continued: + +"I take it that you have no new evidence of a crime having been +committed? You did not see the man fall? You merely saw the young woman +at the summit of the declivity? Later you recovered a saddle you +recognized from the fallen rubbish? Am I right? Isn't that the extent of +your evidence?" + +"Well! Look yere! I reckon I know what I am talkin' about----" + +"But you do not talk about what you know," interposed Hunt. "To my +personal knowledge--and that of Mr. Hurley--the missing man was not buried +under that heap of rubbish with his horse." + +"Then he went into the river!" cried Tolley. + +Here Joe Hurley put in a very pungent word: + +"And that might easily be true. If you found his horse and removed the +saddle, you might have found the man, too, Tolley, and removed some of +his harness." + +"What's that?" was the startled demand. + +"From the first," Joe said sternly, "I suspected you, Tolley. Your dust +won't hide what you have done. You are altogether too sure the man is +dead--after first reporting that you had heard from him in Denver. + +"In fact, you are too anxious to cast suspicion on another person. Your +conscience--if you have such a thing--is troubling you, Tolley. At least, +your fears have made you try to invent a lie that doesn't work out just +the way you expected it to." + +"I'll show you----" + +"You'll show me nothing, Tolley!" retorted Hurley. "You'll listen--and +these other gentlemen. You got the man's saddle. It is just as probable +that you found his body, as well as that of the horse. And he was known +to wear a money-belt around his waist. He was likewise known to be +well-fixed when he left Canyon Pass. He'd been doing well here. You knew +it, if anybody did. You confess that you rode after the man. And you +confess that you got his saddle. Confess the rest of it, you dog. What +else have you got in your safe that belonged to----" + +Boss Tolley threw caution to the winds at this juncture. Hurley's +scathing denunciation pricked to life in him such personal courage as he +possessed. He flung himself forward with a howl of rage and whipped the +gun from the holster at his hip. + +"Get down, Willie!" shouted Hurley and flung the table on its edge with +a crash, dropping behind it. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII--A FACE IN THE STORM + + +An interruption--a voice as hoarse as the croak of a vulture--rose above +the din of other voices: + +"Tolley! You other fellers! Put 'em up! H'ist 'em!" + +Tolley halted--it seemed in midflight. Even the gun hand of Tom Hicks +relaxed. From the other side of the room old Steve Siebert commanded the +situation--and the group of desperate men. The black muzzle of his gun +gaped like the mouth of a cannon. Hunt did not stand between him and +Tolley's crowd. The old man steadied the barrel of his weapon on the +edge of the table behind which he sat and covered the bunch perfectly. + +"H'ist 'em!" he said again, and as Tolley's gun clattered to the floor +and Hicks thrust back his weapon into his sheath, he added: "I don't aim +to mix in what ain't my business, as a usual thing. But when I see seven +skunks goin' after two boys--an' one o' them a parson and not ironed +a-tall--I reckon on takin' a hand. Put 'em up!" + +The ruffians obeyed. Seven pairs of hands reached for the smoke-begrimed +ceiling. Several startled faces appeared under the archway between the +barroom and the dance hall. One was the desert-bitten countenance of +Andy McCann. He would not have sat to drink in the same room with his +one-time partner; but Steve Siebert's voice had stung McCann to action. +Steve saw him. + +"Andy, you derned old rat!" Steve cried, "shut that office door and lock +it. Then, just frisk them rustlers and remove their irons. There ain't +goin' to be no shootin'. Whatever the row is, it's goin' to be settled +plumb peaceful." + +McCann snarled at the other old pocket-hunter like a tiger cat; but he +obeyed--and not without some enjoyment of the chagrin of Tolley and his +gangsters. + +"It takes us old sourdoughs to be slick," he chuckled, when he had +dumped an armful of guns on an empty table. "You boys ain't dry behind +the ears yet when it comes to shootin' scrapes." + +"There ain't goin' to be no shootin'," repeated Steve Siebert. "Not +'nless them fellers start it with their mouths," and he grinned such a +toothless grin that he almost lost his grip on the pipestem clamped in +one corner of his mouth. + +"Now, what's it all about? What's the row? What gal you talkin' about? +Who's the feller that was killed? I'm sort o' curious." + +Joe Hurley stood erect again. He laughed. + +"Great saltpeter!" he exclaimed, "you certainly are a friend in need, +old-timer." + +"Come on," rejoined Steve. "Let's have the pertic'lars." + +It was the Reverend Willett Ford Hunt who took upon himself the +explanation. + +"Nell Blossom!" cried Steve. "That leetle songbird? You mean to say all +this row is over her?" + +"Mr. Tolley has made the statement that Miss Blossom was the cause of +this Beckworth's death. His horse went over the cliff into the canyon. +Whether or not the man went with it----" + +"He did!" cried Andy McCann, smiting his thigh resoundingly with his +palm. "By gravy! Is that what's eatin' all you fellers?" + +"Say! Who's runnin' this court, I'd like to know?" demanded Steve +Siebert angrily. + +"Aw, shut up--you old lizard," said McCann, flaming at him. "'Tain't no +court. It ain't nothin' like it. Put up your gun. It's all off. Dick the +Devil ain't dead at all. At least he wasn't killed that time he went +over the cliff. He's Dick the Devil sure 'nough, and he's got more luck +than a hanged man." + +"Just what do you mean?" Hunt asked. + +"Why, we seen him--me and that old rat sittin' there with his gun, makin' +goo-goo eyes. Sure! And me and him pulled Dick out of the river. He went +clean over his horse's head and landed in the river--same's a bird. He +might have been drowned if me and that ground owl there hadn't got him +out. But he never said one word about Nell Blossom bein' with him or +havin' anything to do with his comin' down that cliff. No, sir!" + +"Nary a word," agreed the surprised Siebert. "Nary a word." + +"What--what became of him?" stammered Hunt, a great weight lifted from +his heart. + +"He went along with me to the edge of the desert," said Siebert slowly. +"He dried out at my fire that night. Next morning he lit out to hit the +Lamberton trail. That's all I know about Dick." + +"And it's more than I knowed," grunted Andy McCann. "That old rat there +might have garroted Dick for his money. But it sure wasn't Nell Blossom +that croaked Dick the Devil--if he's dead at all." + +Here Hunt stepped between the two old prospectors. It looked as though +somebody had to separate them or there might have been a shooting, after +all! + +But it was Joe Hurley who had the last word. He set up the overturned +table and walked over to the bar. + +"To show that there's no hard feelings," he drawled, "this'll be on me. +Get busy, Tolley, on the right side of this bar. And hereafter, you +think twice before you say anything you're not dead sure of about Nell +Blossom. Somebody'd better drag Sam Tubbs out from under that table. He +don't want to miss this." + +There sounded a sudden rush of heavily shod feet outside the barroom +door. As Hunt had expected, an angry crowd from Colorado Brown's burst +in. + +"Just in season, boys," Hurley continued. "All a mistake about our Nell. +Tolley just proved himself to be as careless with the truth as he always +is. Isn't that so, Tolley?" + +Tolley grunted. + + * * * * * + +The winter weather forecast by the return of Steve Siebert and Andy +McCann from the desert held off the next morning when Betty Hunt and +Nell started on their usual ride into the hills. + +Nell had heard a garbled report but few of the particulars of the +incident which the night before had threatened bloodshed at the Grub +Stake. She knew that the parson had again done something that was sure +to endear him to the Passonians in general. And his courageous act had +been in her cause. But she had failed to learn of the disproval of Dick +Beckworth's reported death. + +She said nothing to Betty about the incident. She had begun to shrink +from discussing the rougher side of the life of Canyon Pass with the +parson's sister. As Joe Hurley would have expressed it, Nell Blossom was +becoming "right gentled" through her association with Betty Hunt. + +Betty herself, in Nell's company, managed to put aside those more +serious thoughts and anxieties of mind that ruffled her natural +composure at other times. Since the day, weeks before, when she had been +forced to wreck Joe Hurley's hope of happiness, the cloud of despondency +that overshadowed her life seemed at times greater than she could live +under. + +Nor could the Eastern girl put aside such thoughts of the Westerner as +at first amazed and startled, then revealed to the honest soul of Betty +Hunt that the unfortunate circumstance in her past life that made it +impossible for her to make Joe happy, likewise barred her own heart from +happiness. + +Wicked as her strict upbringing made the fact seem, she had to admit +that she had fallen under the spell of Joe Hurley's generous character, +that she loved him. She could not deny this discovery, although it +filled her mind with confusion. Wedded to a man she hated and in love +with a man she could not wed! + +In any event, this was a secret--like the other that so disturbed +her--which under no circumstances could she confide to either her brother +or any friend. At first she felt the discovery a degrading one. Brought +up as she had been under the grim puritanism of her Aunt Prudence Mason, +the idea of a married woman admitting that she loved a man other than +the one she was married to was a sin. The idea of divorce was as foreign +to her religious training as was the thought of fratricide. + +She was cheerful on the surface at least when she and Nell rode out of +Canyon Pass and through the East Fork. They climbed the canyon wall on +that side by a tortuous path on which only a burro or a very sure-footed +pony was safe. It was Nell, when they were once on the summit, who +discovered the threat of a weather change. + +The air was very keen. Many of the bushes by the way had shriveled +during the night as though before a furnace blast. + +"Black frost," said the younger girl. "Old Steve and Andy know their +little book. Sam says Steve told him there was a blizzard coming. We +won't ride far to-day, Betty." + +"A blizzard? Only fancy," murmured the Eastern girl. + +She was not much impressed. She had no experience--even of New England +winter storms--to enable her to judge the nature of a storm in these +Western mountains. + +But Nell should have known better than to lead the way into a gulch +which quite shut them in from sight of the surrounding country. A +blizzard is a chancy thing; and often the first storm of a Western +winter is the worst of all. + +They rode to a spring at which deer drank; they saw many tracks, but +there were none of the pretty creatures in sight. Birds fluttered +through the chaparral with strange cries, and the rabbits ran back and +forth as though much disturbed by domestic happenings. + +"I never saw them jacks so queer acting," said Nell thoughtfully. "We'd +better ride home, Betty." + +"Why?" asked the other girl gayly. "You are not afraid they will attack +us, are you?" + +"Not that," and the Western-born young woman smiled. "But there's +something comin', I reckon--just as Steve and Andy say." + +Before they rode up out of the gulch they heard something slashing like +a multitude of knives through the dead leaves overhead. When they rode +out into the open they beheld the thick cloud that had almost reached +the zenith, and out of that cloud came not snow, but ice! + +Fine particles of the sharpest crystal were driven in a thick haze +through the singing air. Nell instantly whipped off her neckcloth and +tied it across her nose and mouth, warning Betty to follow her example. + +"Get this in your lungs, Betty, and you'll have pneumonia as sure as +sure!" she shouted. + +Frightened, they urged their ponies on to the beginning of the rough +path down the canyon wall. Although they were soon somewhat sheltered +from the driving ice-storm there were bare places where the two girls +suffered the full force of the gale. + +"I know a place!" cried Nell in a muffled voice. "We got to hole up till +this stops. Come on!" + +It had grown dark of a sudden. Nell pulled her pony off the path, and he +picked his way daintily to a cavity in the wall. Here an overhanging +rock offered some shelter. At least, the girls were out of the steady +beat of the storm. + +They dismounted and got behind the ponies, between their warm bodies and +the rock itself. If Betty was the more frightened of the two, she showed +it no more than did Nell Blossom. + +The air became thicker and the whine of the wind rose to a shriek which +all but drowned their voices when they tried to communicate with each +other. It was such a manifestation of the storm king as Betty Hunt had +never seen before. + +They were but a little way off the path. Suddenly both girls, in spite +of the wind, heard the clatter of shod hoofs. Another horse was coming +down the path. In a moment they dimly saw the looming figure of a man +leading the animal. + +"Who is it?" gasped Betty, but if Nell heard the question she did not +answer. + +Nell clutched Betty's wrist for silence. The girls stared at the man +beating his way downward. He wore a broad-brimmed hat, but they could +see the long, black, curling hair flowing from beneath it. He turned his +face toward them, and Betty beheld the keen face and heavy mustache of +the stranger she had seen hiding from the sheriff and his posse weeks +before near the trail to Hoskins! + +The man progressed so slowly, and he was so near, that the Eastern girl +could study his features now with more certainty. There was something in +the contour of his face that reminded her of Andy Wilkenson! + +Could it be he? Was it possible that this fugitive--the man the officers +had accused of a crime--was the debonair Andy who had so enthralled her +girlish mind and heart back there at Grandhampton Hall? + +She had not forgotten Wilkenson's observations about Crescent City. +Betty had never ceased to fear that he might appear to her in this part +of the great West. But here--now--and in this dramatic manner? + +Much shaken, she turned to look at Nell Blossom. She suddenly realized +that the other girl was sagging against her shoulder very strangely. She +glanced down into Nell's muffled face. + +The younger girl's eyes were closed. She was as pallid as death itself. +Nell Blossom had fainted! + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII--A GREAT LIGHT DAWNS + + +Some men can escape their duty if they choose to--can ignore it, flout +it, even deny its very existence--but not one who is called to be a +leader of men toward a higher plane of daily existence. The greatest +sophism with which the race has ever been cursed is that hoary one of +the lazy preacher: "Do as I say, not as I do." + +Religious precept is utterly worthless if the preceptor does not follow +his own expounded faith with a living example. The Reverend Willett Ford +Hunt had come to that pass where he could no longer ignore the fact that +his friend, Joe Hurley, was on the down grade. When the parson cooled +down after the exciting events of that evening, both in Colorado Brown's +place and at the Grub Stake, he saw more clearly that he had fallen into +error. + +If he was to be the spiritual guide and mentor of his congregation at +Canyon Pass, he must be the same to one member of it as he was to +another. He had not been slow to admonish others of his parishioners; +but the man who had brought him here--the one whom he really looked upon +as being his chief supporter in the work he was striving to do--was +slipping away from him and into flagrantly evil ways. + +If Hunt's character has been revealed at all in this narrative, moral +and physical courage have not seemed to be its lack. Then why had the +young parson failed to go after Joe Hurley as he did after Judson, the +storekeeper, Sam Tubbs, Hi Brownell, Smithy, and other men who were wont +to "kick over the traces"? + +There was just one clear and cogent reason why Hunt had not taken Joe to +task for his failings, as he already had many another man in Canyon +Pass. His old friendship for Joe had nothing to do with this neglect. +And certainly he did not fear making the good cause in which he was so +interested a powerful enemy. There was nothing in Joe Hurley's generous +character that would suggest that for a moment. + +It was, in short, the fact that Hunt believed that he and Joe were in +love with the same girl. + +Although, as far as Hunt had observed, Nell Blossom displayed no +particular fondness for Joe Hurley, the latter believed the mining man +"understood" the cabaret singer. At least, Nell revealed no such disdain +for Joe Hurley as she had publicly for Hunt. + +When the latter reviewed the late incidents as they related to Joe, +while he tossed on his mattress that night, he admitted he was taking +the wrong course with his friend. He had seemed tacitly to overlook sins +of commission on Joe's part that he would have pilloried in another. + +Had Hurley not been heated by drink and his passion for gambling, he +would not have pursued that unwise course in going to the Grub Stake in +a mood which had all but precipitated tragedy. Joe's recklessness had +been unleashed, and Hunt had been obliged to stand by after the +unexpected conclusion of the scene and see his friend drink with the +very men who, a few minutes before, had been ready to take Joe's life. + +He arose with a new determination. He saw his sister and Nell Blossom +ride away from the Wild Rose Hotel. Then he made his way directly to the +Great Hope Mine. + +Hurley had an office--a small shack--off at one side. The parson found him +alone in it, his boots cocked on his battered desk, his pipe drawing +well. His grin was as infectious as ever. + +"Well, Willie! some time that last night, eh?" was Joe's greeting. "When +I get in a tight corner again, I'll never wish for a better side-partner +than you, old sobersides!" + +"Joe," returned Hunt with a directness that seemed brutal, "if you had +been your sober self last night--quite the same man you are wont to +be--there would have been no tight corner." + +"Huh?" The other's boots came to the floor with emphasis. His brown eyes +sparked. The muscles of his jaws set grimly. "You've got a crust, +Willie, to talk to me like that." + +"You need talking to, Joe; and I'm going to do the talking. No! Sit +right where you are and listen. You've got it coming to you; and, if you +are the man I have always thought you, you'll stand the gaff." + +"Aw, shucks! A drink or two isn't going to kill Joe Hurley." + +"A drink or two kills his moral sense, and kills his usefulness as a +good citizen," returned Hunt. "Then, you have been gambling steadily." + +"Great saltpeter! isn't a feller to have any fun at all? I haven't lost +much to Miguel." + +"It is your example to the rest. And what you have lost would help the +fund for our church building. And we must have a church, Joe." + +Joe uttered something under his breath. + +"What makes you so reckless, Joe?" + +"Shucks, Willie! Maybe I have slipped a few cogs. A lone bachelor like +me can't help it sometimes, can he?" asked Hurley, with a smile that +tried to be whimsical rather than bitter. "Remember, Willie, I haven't +got a sister to keep me well balanced. It's womenfolks and--and an +interest in one that makes a man a sobersides." + +"Is it!" returned Hunt, with scorn. "If a man hasn't the stamina to stay +straight, no girl will ever keep him in the narrow path--believe me!" + +"You belittle Miss Betty's powers of persuasion," returned Joe, with a +sly glance. + +"If that is your belief," Hunt said, with sharpness and a rising color, +"I should think you would keep straight for Nell's sake." + +"Nell Blossom?" + +"Yes. You are interested in her, aren't you?" + +"Surest thing you know, Willie." + +"Then, for her sake----" + +"Hold on!" ejaculated Hurley, sudden suspicion in his gaze. "Do you +think I'm soft on Nell?" + +"Well--er--aren't you?" demanded his friend rather faintly. + +"I'm free to confess I was," said Joe slowly, watching Hunt now with +growing understanding in his eyes. "But that little skeesicks showed me +where I got off long ago. And I tell you fair, Willie, she is not the +girl who is bothering me." + +"Then, there is a girl? Joe! You and Betty----" + +Hurley put up his hand, turning his face away. "No use, Willie. Betty's +given me my cong, too. I reckon I am an 'also-ran' with the ladies." + +"My dear Joe!" Hunt grabbed his hand. "I'm sorry. I don't understand +Betty." + +Hurley went to the door suddenly, opened it, and looked out. A cold +blast from the hills ruffled the papers on the desk. The sun was +suddenly dimmed. In the distance the coming wind whined like a sick dog. + +"Say! we're going to get it," he muttered. + +"A storm coming?" asked Hunt absently. His own heart sang. A foolish +happiness swept over him. He went to look out over Hurley's shoulder. +"Does it look bad to you?" + +"Youbetcha! It's coming faster than you ever saw a storm move, I reckon, +Willie. Those old has-beens, Steve and Andy, can't be fooled. They got +in from the desert just ahead of it." + +"A blizzard, Joe?" cried the parson with sudden anxiety. "The girls!" + +"What about them? What girls?" + +"Betty and Nell. They've gone out on horseback." + +"You don't mean it? Er--Well, Nell must have seen it coming and turned +back. She knows this country as well as a man. But, come on! Let's go +down to Tim's corral and see if the ponies are in again. It wouldn't +do----" + +He slammed the office door, shouted to his manager, and strode away. +Hunt had to put his best foot forward to keep up with him. Women and +children were already scuttling to shelter when they went down through +the town. Bill Judson waved a hand at them from his door, shouting: + +"Them old desert rats knowed their biz, didn't they? I'd set my clock by +them, I would." + +At the corral the two young men saw at a glance that the girls' ponies +had not been returned by Cholo Sam. They went on toward the hotel in +silence. Now the first needles of the ice-storm cut their faces. It was +nothing like any storm Hunt had ever seen. And how fast it grew in +volume and strength! + +Cholo Sam and Maria were at the door of the hotel, looking down the +street eagerly and anxiously. + +"Which way did they go?" shouted Hurley, without any preamble. + +"Oh, Seor Hurley!" cried Sam. "To the East. T'roo the East Fork." + +Already sight of the rugged path up the heights on that side of the +canyon was blotted out by the driving ice particles. + +"Shall we get horses and go after them?" panted Hunt. + +"Horses won't live in this. Maybe we can stir up some of the boys to go +with us. Wish I had my roughnecks here." + +But there was not time to go back to the mine. The storm had come on so +suddenly that the workers above the town might hole in until the first +force of the blizzard was over. + +Hunt ran up to his room to get his heavier coat and a couple of +blankets. As he descended the stairs, Cholo Sam came from the barroom +with a filled flask in his hand. + +"Some of the best brandy, Seor Hunt," he said. "It is for the seekness +only that comes with the cold. Ah thees ice in the lungs is death, +seor--death!" + +The parson took it without hesitation and slipped it into his pocket. He +ran out to see Joe Hurley coming out of Colorado Brown's place with Jib +Collins and Cale Mack behind him. In another few seconds, so rapidly did +the driving ice thicken the air, Hunt lost sight of the trio and they +fairly bumped into him when they reached the spot where he stood. + +"That you, Willie?" shouted Hurley. "We'll get a rope and tie ourselves +together. Tie mufflers over our faces. Say, there may be some more +fellers in the Grub Stake who will help." + +He turned that way, finding his direction more by sense than by sight. +They stumbled up the steps and in at the door of the Grub Stake. + +At that very moment a half-frozen man, leading a storm-battered horse, +had fallen at Tolley's rear door. The dive keeper was dragging him into +the place like a log as Hurley, Hunt, and their companions strode into +the barroom. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV--THE BARRIER DOWN--FOR A MOMENT + + +"Hey, you fellers!" shouted Tolley to the several men in the barroom of +the Grub Stake. "Come give me a hand. Here's a feller that's taken +pretty near his last pill, I reckon." + +The parson, as well as Hurley and the others, responded to the dive +keeper's call. Tolley kicked shut the back door with savage insistence +against the driving wind. + +"I reckon his hoss is done for," he panted. "But the feller himself--Hi, +Nobbs! get him a jolt of something hot." + +Hunt and Joe Hurley helped raise the senseless man, and, with Tolley +carrying the feet, they moved him close to one of the glowing stoves. +His hat fell off. It was Joe who voiced a surprise that was not his +alone. + +"Why, Tolley! here's your dead man now. As I'm a sinner--and the parson +assures me that I am--this is Dick Beckworth." + +"Dick the Devil!" ejaculated two or three in chorus. + +"This is a nice sort of a day for him to come back," muttered Tolley, +evidently quite as much amazed as the others. + +Hunt peered into the face of the senseless man. There was a certain +regularity of feature, in spite of the sharpness and blueness caused by +the extreme cold he had suffered, which the parson saw might lead the +casual observer to consider Dick Beckworth handsome. His complexion was +as spotless as a girl's; the skin scarcely tanned; ears and nose small +and perfectly formed; the closed eyes, long-lashed; and the brows as +delicately marked as though done with a stencil. + +He was shaved, although he had come out of the wilderness, and his +jet-black mustache was as silky as his long hair. Dick Beckworth, +gambler and lady's man, without doubt made a striking appearance +wherever he went. Even lying there on the bench, colorless, and with his +eyes closed, the parson realized that the man would be indeed a +"heart-breaker"--among young and inexperienced women at least. + +It could not be doubted that he had made a strong impression upon the +almost childish mind and heart of Nell Blossom. She must have been +attracted by this man just as she would have been by a gaudy flower or a +bird of brilliant plumage. + +Hunt felt a strange loathing for the gambler, much as his present state +should excite pity. This was the man, he believed, who had brought about +the change that Joe Hurley said had suddenly come over Nell Blossom's +character. + +Beckworth had hidden the fact that he had escaped death through his fall +into the canyon and so had laid a burden of terror and anguish upon +Nell's heart, which was reason enough for her apparent hatred of all +mankind. + +Nobbs, the barkeeper, brought the drink at Tolley's command. They forced +open Dick's jaws and poured the potent stuff into him. The color almost +instantly stained his cheeks. His eyelids fluttered. He choked. + +"What was it Andy McCann said about him?" Hurley said thoughtfully. +"He's got the luck of a hanged man. He's coming around all right. But +there are others out in the storm that need help more than this fellow." + +"Who's that?" asked one of the men who had been loitering at the Grub +Stake bar. + +Hurley explained briefly about the absent girls. Two men besides those +already of their party volunteered to join Hurley and the parson. A +rope--a hair lariat--was likewise found with which the searchers could +bind themselves together. It would be the simplest thing imaginable to +drift away from each other in such a blinding storm. + +Dick Beckworth gave unmistakable signs of returning consciousness. He +groaned, struggled, raised up on an elbow to stare about. + +"Hold on!" the parson said to Joe. "See if the man can speak. He may +know something." + +"Right you are, Willie," Hurley agreed. He leaned over the dazed +gambler. "Hi, Dick! Do you know me? Joe Hurley! See?" + +"Where--where am I?" whispered Dick. + +"You're in the Grub Stake, all right, Dick," broke in Tolley eagerly. +"The old Grub Stake, I tell ye--that you never ought t've left." + +"Grub Stake? Tolley?" questioned Dick. Then he opened his eyes wide and +recognized Hurley's face so close to his own. "That you, Joe? I----" + +"Which way did you come into town, Dick?" broke in the mining man. + +"Eh? What?" + +"Did you come through the East Fork or the West Fork?" + +"Why--why, the East Fork." + +"You did! Did you see anybody on the way down? You came down the cliff, +didn't you? Anybody up on the plain?" were Hurley's excited questions. + +"Why--I--I----" + +"Two women are out in the storm," went on Hurley. "Did you see them +anywhere up yonder?" + +"Two women? I--I thought they were men. They rode down ahead of me. Then +it grew so--so thick I couldn't see 'em again." + +"Great saltpeter!" exclaimed Hurley. "You must have passed 'em. They are +up there somewhere among the rocks." + +"Or they've gone over the rocks--hosses and all!" groaned Collins. + +"Shut up!" muttered his chum, Cale Mack. "Ain't you got no sense? Look +at the parson!" + +"This is Parson Hunt," explained Hurley to the staring Dick. "His sister +Betty is one of the missing girls you saw." + +"_Who?_" gasped Dick. "Betty Hunt? Here? Here? At Canyon Pass?" + +"My sister," Hunt said hoarsely. "Didn't you see her and Nell Blossom +again as you rode down?" + +"Your sister?" repeated the startled gambler. "Betty Hunt--your sister?" + +He fell back and closed his eyes. Hurley started for the front door. + +"No time to lose, boys," he cried. "Come on! Betty and Nell are +somewhere up there along that path. No more delay." + +He had already knotted one end of the rope around his waist. Hunt +followed his example, leaving six feet or more of slack between them. +The other men who were going with them quickly fastened themselves in +rotation. They knotted neckerchiefs or mufflers across their faces. +Nobbs opened the door for them, and the file went out into the storm. + +The roar of the storm as the men came out upon the open bank of the East +Fork made the human voice quite inaudible. Nor could they communicate by +signs, for only the dim outlines of the man before him could be seen by +the man behind. A tug of the rope was the only signal understood between +the searchers. + +The driven hail churned the surface of the river to a livid foam. The +reflection of this sheet of ruffled water lent them more light than the +sun itself. The storm beat upon the string of men with a savageness that +appalled Hunt, who had never experienced nature in so bitter a mood. + +But what these men of Canyon Pass could do, the parson would not shrink +from. And were not the two beings he loved most in this world--Nell +Blossom and his sister Betty--in desperate peril somewhere on the other +side of the wind-lashed stream? + +The water was all of knee-depth over the bar, but Joe waded in without +hesitation. They were none of them shod properly for the wading of the +stream; but their personal discomfort--or, indeed, their personal peril +in any way--did not enter into their consideration in this emergency. Two +girls were somewhere up there among the rocks, harassed by the storm and +in danger of their lives. The men's job was to get them. + +The ice--it was more than mere sleet that whipped them so +unmercifully--cut such parts of their faces as were bare, needle sharp +and stinging. From under the peak of his cap each man could now see +scarcely a yard before him. They stumbled on as though they were in an +unlighted cavern. Once Joe stepped off the track and plunged waist deep +in a hole. Hunt hauled him back by the rope, and after a moment they +went on again. + +They reached the farther bank and stumbled up the sleet-covered strand, +standing in a group together for a minute to get their breath and to +ease the binding-rope about their bodies. + +"I reckon I can smell out the path, boys," said their leader, so they +started off again. + +As they pressed upward, now and then they shouted--sometimes in unison. +But their voices could not penetrate the gale far. The sounds were blown +back into their faces as though rebounding from a blank wall. + +At a point some distance up the path Hurley halted again and allowed the +others to approach. He bawled at them: + +"There's a place yonder somewhere under the cliff--I remember it--a +half-shelter. They might have reached it." + +"Don't get off the path, Joe!" warned Jib Collins. + +"But if the girls got off the path?" + +"We don't want to lose our way," objected Mack. + +"I'm going to take a look!" ejaculated Hurley obstinately. But he could +not untie the knot which held him. He fumbled at it. "Got a knife, +Willie?" + +The parson had already drawn out his pocket-knife. But he slashed the +rope between Collins and himself. + +"I'm going with you, Joe," he declared. + +"Keep shoutin'!" bawled Collins, as the two younger men started off at a +tangent from the path. + +The bowlders were glassed with ice. The two friends floundered and +slipped about in an awkward way, straining themselves enormously and not +seldom falling. The one aided the other. It was fortunate, Hunt +realized, that they had come together, for one man alone could never +have accomplished the journey to the sheer wall of the cliff. + +Of a sudden there seemed to be a lull in the gale. Really, they had +reached a more sheltered spot. The storm sang around them, but they were +not so terribly buffeted. + +Joe shouted again: + +"Nell! Nell Blossom! Betty!" + +Hunt joined his voice to that of his friend. They continued to bellow +the girls' names. Hurley grabbed the parson's arm suddenly. + +"Hush!" + +There was a response. A wailing voice replied. + +"It's Betty! Your sister!" shouted Joe, and plunged forward, +half-dragging the equally excited Hunt with him. + +Something loomed up before the latter. He ran into the barrel of a +standing horse! + +"Here they are!" yelled Hurley. + +Somehow, the two young men got around the horses. There was a sheltered +place between the beasts and the wall of rock. Hunt heard his sister +crying and laughing somewhere near. But it was not she whom he first +found. + +"Oh, Mr. Hunt! Oh, Mr. Hunt!" sobbed Nell Blossom's voice. "Are you +real? You ain't another ghost, are you? Oh! Oh!" + +Hunt's arms were around the girl, and he held her fast. Near by, he +knew, Joe and Betty were talking--perhaps were whispering. His own lips +were close to Nell's ear. + +"My dear! My dear!" the parson said over and over again. "God is good to +me! I've found you safe." + +Nell snuggled into his arms like a frightened child and clung to him. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV--UNDERSTANDING + + +It was Betty Hunt, who, after all, seemed to possess the bolder spirit +of the two girls. Nell clung to the parson like a frightened child. He +realized, however, after the first flush of his emotion that he had +allowed his own overpowering desire for the singer to confuse his mind. +The barrier between them was down for a moment only; he raised it again +himself, for he knew he was taking advantage unfairly of the terrified +girl. + +It was Hunt, however, who lifted Nell Blossom into her pony's saddle +with one of the blankets wrapped well about her, and when Joe Hurley +started away leading Betty's mount, the parson followed close behind. +The two young men had freed themselves of each other; but the horses and +their riders bulked so big against the driving curtain of the storm that +they could scarcely lose each other. + +They heard the other searchers shouting and Joe pulled his gun from its +holster and fired two shots into the air. The signal was replied to +immediately. In a minute or two Joe ran, head-on, into Jib Collins. + +"Hey! did you find 'em both?" bawled the man. + +"Youbetcha!" responded Hurley. "When the parson and I go out, we bring +home the bacon, every time." + +They took up the march to the ford. At the water's edge one of the other +men came to the off side of each pony, and they forced the snorting +animals into the stream. The foaming barrier did not look encouraging to +the storm-beaten beasts. + +They all got through safely and up into the town. The driving storm was +changing to snow and sleet; but the foundation of ice that had first +fallen made walking difficult. The girls were lifted off their horses +and carried up into Betty's room, where Maria gave them every assistance +in her power. Somebody put away the horses. Joe scurried off to his own +bachelor shack, while Hunt stripped in his room and gave himself a +savage rub-down with coarse towels. It had been a terrible experience; +but his spirits and his blood were both in glow! + +Surely Nell Blossom could not be unfriendly hereafter. It must be +confessed that the parson's thought was more entangled with Nell and his +recent association with her than in anything else. + +Cholo Sam brought up a steaming pot of coffee, his dark face expanded +with delight. + +"Ah, Seor Hunt!" the Mexican said, "you an' de Seor Hurley--you are de +pure queel, eh? De boys all cheer you--my goodness, yes!" + +When Hunt was dressed again he went to Betty's door and knocked. His +sister's response to his summons was brisk and cheerful, as usual. Yet, +when he entered and looked keenly at her, he thought there was something +feverish--or was it expectant?--in the look she gave him. + +The girls were both in the big bed, heaped with blankets. Nell's petite +face, ruffled about by one of Betty's boudoir caps, was pale. Indeed, +the parson's sister looked in much the better condition of the two. The +excitement and danger of the adventure which had befallen them seemed to +have affected the girls in a paradoxical manner. Whereas the Eastern +girl might be expected to be overcome by the affair and Nell have +suffered the adventure as an ordinary experience, the result seemed +really to be the other way around! Nell lay in the bed pale, almost +hysterical it would seem. Betty could scarcely control her excitement. + +"Ford!" she exclaimed, "I need you. Try to convince this foolish girl +that there is no such thing as a ghost--a real ghost." + +Hunt smiled, but he could not be unsympathetic. He realized that Nell +Blossom, being brought up as she had been--even associating so long with +Mother Tubbs--was probably hopelessly superstitious. He could not find it +in his heart to oppose roughly any fear Nell might hold regarding +supernatural things. He tried to put his admonition in a kindly way. + +"If there is any truth at all in the matter of ghosts," he said, "it +must be of a somewhat unreal nature, must it not? Ghosts are supposed to +be too ethereal for sight or touch or sound. And the only smell, even, +accompanying their visitations, is supposed to be of brimstone, isn't +it?" + +"That feller ought to smell of brimstone all right!" muttered Nell +suddenly hectic in her language. "He ought to come plumb from the bad +place." + +"What does she mean?" Hunt asked Betty. Yet he half suspected what was +in the singer's mind. "Did you girls see----" + +"Nell declares," interrupted Betty, still with that strange excitement, +"that she has seen the ghost of a man she calls Dick Beckworth." + +"Dick Beckworth," Hunt repeated calmly. "You saw him, I presume," he +watched the pale face on the pillow all the time, "on the side of the +cliff over yonder? He rode down behind you----" + +"Do you mean----" gasped Nell. + +A flame of color flashed into both her cheeks. Her blue eyes grew round +with surprise. + +"He says he came into town by that path," the young man rejoined. "He +put us on to the track of you girls. He said he saw you start down the +path ahead of him." + +"He is alive!" murmured Nell. + +"His horse was in bad shape, I believe," Hunt told her. "But the last I +knew--just before we left the Grub Stake to look for you--Dick Beckworth +gave every promise of getting on quite well." + +"Dick the Devil!" muttered Nell. "That sure is his name." + +"From what I have heard about him," said Hunt, "I think his nickname +quite fits him. But it was probably Tolley's meanness alone that made +you--that is," he hastened to correct himself, "that made all of the +trouble. That was thrashed out last evening, Miss Nell. Steve Siebert +and Andy McCann proved Dick was not dead, although he did go over the +cliff back there in the spring." + +"I don't know what you are both talking about," Betty interposed. "Who +is this--this--Dick Beckworth, do you call him?" + +"A gambler, Betty," said her brother. "You would scarcely know such a +person. But unfortunately both Miss Nell and I have been obliged to mix +with all classes of society," he smiled again, "and so we know such +people." + +"Nell should not sing in those places." Betty said it with conviction. +But in a moment she turned again to the identity of the man whose +reappearance had startled Nell Blossom so greatly that she had fainted +in the storm. "What--what does this man, Dick, look like?" + +"Not an unhandsome fellow," said the parson generously. "A somewhat +cruel face--ruthless perhaps would be the better term. Good features; a +beautiful complexion--if such a term should be applied to a man's skin," +and he laughed. + +"You do not like him, Ford!" exclaimed Betty quickly. + +"Would I be likely to?" mildly asked her brother. + +"Oh! But I do not want a psychoanalysis of the man," said Betty, and she +used a handkerchief to half hide her own face. "Just what does he look +like?" + +"Mildly dark. A beautiful, oiled mustache--like a crow's wing as the +Victorian lady novelists would say. Heavy black hair. Under different +circumstances--you must remember I saw him only after he was dragged out +of the storm and on the border of a collapse--I judge Dick Beckworth +would be quite the gentleman in all appearance, and quite the devil at +heart." + +"You said it!" agreed Nell. + +"A mustache--and thick black hair," murmured Betty. "Yes. I saw him go by +when we were cowering there under that wall, too. Well, I am relieved." +Her laugh did not sound right in her brother's ears. "I am glad that it +did not turn out to be a real ghost." + +Hunt sat down upon a chair at Nell's side of the bed. The singer looked +at him, and there suddenly flashed into her eyes a warm light that +enhanced her beauty. She put out a little brown hand and gripped his, +which was only too ready to be seized. + +"Parson--Mr. Hunt, you are a good man!" she said, chokingly. "I heard +about what you did last night. But I didn't hear all about it; so I +didn't know Dick was alive. I--I'm mighty wicked, I reckon. I ain't glad +he didn't die----" + +"No need to go into that," urged Hunt quickly. "All such things are in +the hands of Providence. But your mind, I hope, Nell, is relieved." + +Betty looked from the face of the girl on the pillow to her brother's +glowing countenance. It was another shock for Betty Hunt, but she +understood. + + * * * * * + +The sudden, sharp blizzard that tore across the country blew itself out +by nightfall. In the morning the sun shone brilliantly, a warm wind +followed the gale, and the snow and ice melted like a September frost. +It had been only a foretaste of winter. + +The effect of the incidents of that day remained longer in the hearts of +some of the participators in the events than it did upon the earth or +the rivers, the rocks and gorges, the frosted herbage, or other physical +and material matters about Canyon Pass. To be in mutual peril, to suffer +alike the buffetings of the storm, had linked Betty Hunt and Nell +Blossom with a chain that could not lightly be severed. + +There was, too, a secret knowledge on the Eastern girl's part that made +this chain stronger than Nell imagined. The latter had no suspicion that +Dick Beckworth--Dick the Devil--was a link in the chain that bound her to +the parson's sister. There was as well another thing that made the +cabaret singer an object of Betty's deeper interest. The latter had seen +in her brother's face something which had vastly surprised her and +something which--had it been revealed to her before this time--would have +horrified Betty as well as startled her. + +The Reverend Willett Ford Hunt was plainly and frankly more concerned in +Nell Blossom than he had any right to be--unless he proposed to declare +himself the singer's suitor. It was a somewhat shocking thought for +Betty--no two ways about it. She had scarcely ever considered her brother +in the light of a marrying man, and never here at Canyon Pass! For it to +have been suggested that Hunt would find an object of sentimental +interest in this Western mining camp would have completely confounded +Betty at an earlier date. + +And Nell Blossom? A singer in a rough amusement place that Betty would +consider herself smirched if she entered? Yet--and Betty was surprised to +consider it--she was much less amazed by her brother's seeming choice +than she presumed she would be. Besides, there was a reason why Betty +Hunt felt that she might not criticise her brother's course in this +affair. + +When Nell Blossom had recovered from the exposure sufficiently to go +home to Mother Tubbs, and that was not until late in the day following +the storm, Betty had gained from her brother all he knew and much that +he surmised regarding Nell's association with the gambler who had +returned to the Grub Stake at so dramatic a moment. + +For his part, Hunt had not the first suspicion that Betty held any +personal interest in the man, Dick Beckworth. But he knew that his +sister suspected his love for Nell Blossom. + +Hunt braced himself for an argument, and a serious one. Betty veered +from Nell herself in a most surprising manner and seemed to feel +interest only in Dick the Devil. + +"He is scarcely a person in whom you would find any interest did you +meet him, Betty," declared the parson. "Believe me, as Joe says, the +fellow is one of those fungi attached to society that would much better +be lopped off than allowed to develop and spread their vile spawn +about." + +"Oh!" gasped Betty. "You mean it would have been better had you and--and +Mr. Hurley found the man's remains where you found his horse? Oh, Ford!" + +"Somehow," said the parson gravely, "I feel that way." + +"Ford!" cried his sister vehemently. "This is an awful place! Let--let us +go back East." + +The parson shook his head slowly. "No, Betty. You may go if you wish. I +do not blame you for wanting to give it up. There is no reason why you +should sacrifice yourself. But for me--Canyon Pass is mine. I will not +own to failure. Indeed, my work is not without promise. I am going to +reach the heart of Canyon Pass in some way, and I will keep on in the +quest as long as I am given strength." + +It was Betty's last outbreak against conditions. Nor did her brother +suspect for a moment the reason for the sudden renewal of her hatred of +the mining town. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI--THREATENING WEATHER + + +Joe Hurley had taken a new lease on cheerfulness; yet he scarcely could +have explained why his condition of mind had so suddenly improved. But +it was not difficult for him to put a digit upon that very moment of +time when this new feeling had dawned in his mind. + +It was when, with Hunt, he had plowed his way through the driving storm +to the nook under the sheltering cliff and had, seemingly, by instinct, +found Betty Hunt rather than Nell Blossom. + +Joe told himself that this very fact--that he had stumbled upon Betty +rather than Nell--was a miracle of love. + +All the time they were beating through the blizzard, crossing the icy +river and climbing the steep path, it seemed to Joe that Betty had been +calling to him. It had been the most natural thing in the world that at +the end of the fearful struggle he should find in his arms the girl whom +he loved and whose peril had caused him such anguish. + +And Betty did, quite of her own volition, enter that shelter. It was no +mistake, no chance happening. Betty did not think he was her brother. +"Oh, Joe! I was sure you would find us," she had said. + +Joe did not overlook the confession Betty had made that there was a man +back East who must, in some way, hold her promise if not her affections. +But Joe hoped that by now Betty had taken time to compare that unknown +with himself; and that he, Joe, had a chance. He decided to await +Betty's good pleasure. + +At least, Joe Hurley's recklessness was submerged once more in those +better qualities that the Reverend Willett Ford Hunt warmly liked. Joe +was bound to be the parson's chief assistant and backer in all his +efforts for the betterment of Canyon Pass. And Hunt faced now--he had +seen it coming of course--a situation that must practically make +effective or mar seriously all that he had striven for since he had come +West. + +This emergency came up for discussion that Saturday night in Bill +Judson's Three Star Grocery. The interest of the more decent element of +the town's population was centering in the church and in Parson Hunt's +work. This was a rallying point for all progressive effort and +determination in Canyon Pass. + +In addition, the happenings of the past week seemed to have focused on +Hunt and the good work the eyes of all those Passonians who possessed +vision at all. The almost tragic brawl in Tolley's Grub Stake had +aroused a great deal of warm discussion. What did Canyon Pass and Canyon +County have a sheriff for, if roughnecks were to go armed--and use those +arms--just as they had been wont to do in the old days? + +"Why, we're plumb civilized now. We ain't supposed to go around wearin' +shootin'-irons and pluggin' holes in store-fronts and citizens' hats. If +a bunch of cow-punchers came riotin' in yere and started to shoot up the +camp, Sheriff Blaney would show 'em what-for, blame sudden." + +"Youbetcha!" agreed one of the storekeeper's listeners. "That's a true +word, Bill. If a man means to be peaceable, why go ironed at all?" + +"That's just it," complained the gangling Smithy. "There's them that +ain't for peace. That's why the rest of us hafter go heeled." + +Smithy had been waiting on customers with a gun belted to his waist ever +since the night he had lost two teeth and gained a black eye. Perhaps +the evidence of this gun so prominently displayed had saved the gangling +clerk from much hectoring comment that he might otherwise have suffered +from some of the patrons of the Three Star. + +However, Smithy basked in a certain heroic light. He had been the first +to resent Tolley's scurrilous tale about Nell Blossom, and no matter +what Joe Hurley and the parson had done later, Smithy's small share of +glory could not be ignored. On this very afternoon Nell herself had come +into the Three Star Grocery and thanked Smithy very sweetly for his +courageously expressed opinion on her behalf, the result of which had +rather marred what good looks Smithy had ever been able to lay claim to. + +"Layin' off whatever that boy's mother said about him when he was an +infant," drawled Judson, "nobody ever could honestly say that Smithy +should take a medal for good looks. Now he looks plumb woeful! I come +pretty near bustin' out crying when I look at him." + +"Oh, it's not as bad as all that, Bill Judson, and you know it," Nell +declared. "Don't you believe him, Smithy. I don't think it hurts your +looks any." + +"It couldn't," was Judson's grim comment. + +But this missed Smithy. He fairly gasped with pleasure at Nell's +statement. + +"Don't you mind about it, Miss Nell," he said. "I was goin' to have them +teeth drawed, anyway. I'll get gold ones. And I'd have 'em all knocked +out if 'twould do you a mite of good." + +Now that the conclave between the serious-minded citizens had begun, +even Smithy was listened to with some respect. Besides, the gangling one +put forward an unmistakably pregnant fact. + +"If it wasn't for Tolley and his gang, wouldn't none of us hafter tote +guns," Smithy observed. + +"Surest thing you know!" exclaimed Collins. "Run them out o' town and +the decent men here wouldn't hafter develop saddle-galls from wearing +ten pound or more of iron and lead belted around their waists. Yes, sir! +I'm in favor of reviving the old vigilance committee and running these +yere undesirable citizens out into the Topaz." + +"What would become of them?" put in Hunt mildly. + +"Let 'em 'root, hog, or die'!" muttered Judson. "Tolley, of course, has +got a stake yere. We can't take a man's property away from him. But +those hangers-on of his----" + +"It is a part of Tolley's stake that is the immediate cause of this +discussion, gentlemen," put in the parson again. "Tolley still owns the +place in which we hold our meetings, and Judson's lease will soon run +out." + +"Run Tolley out," said Smithy, who had now enthusiastically taken sides +with the church people, "and you needn't worry about that shack." + +"Maybe he would sell," Hurley suggested. + +"You try to buy it," and Judson grinned. "His eye teeth has done been +cut a far time back. Tolley ain't that kind of a fool. He is wise to the +idea that we'd like to buy that place. If you paved the shack floor with +gold eagles Tolley wouldn't bite." + +"He'd like to bust up the church and run the parson out, if you ask me," +was the comment of another bystander. "And he's got a sharp side-pardner +now, boys. I hear tell Dick the Devil is a-hintin' that things will go +different in Canyon Pass, now that he's come back." + +"How's that?" asked Hurley quickly, his eyes sparkling as they always +did when his temper was ruffled. "What's Dick got to say about it?" + +"He don't favor no parson. He says so." + +"Looks to me," drawled Judson, "that it's comin' close to a show-down. +Either we folks that want a church and decency has got to cave in, or we +got to fight." + +"The right kind of fighting, I hope," said Hunt quickly. "We must hold +our own without open quarreling." + +"Well, it won't be peaceful when we try to hold onto Tolley's shack," +growled Jib Collins. + +"Look yere," queried a voice from the dark end of the store, "what have +you shorthorns been doin' all this time you've had a parson? Why ain't +ye built him a church?" + +"Another county heard from!" snapped Judson, as old Steve Siebert came +forward. "Easy enough to ask that." + +"Why don't ye answer it?" asked the old prospector. "I see you have got +yere in Canyon Pass a blame good parson. I never seen one I liked +better. I ain't heard him preach, and I ain't been to your meetin's. But +any parson that can walk barehanded up to a gang like that Boss Tolley +and his whelps gets my vote, and he can have everything I've got when he +wants it for his church." + +"Them that ain't got nawthin' can easy give it away," muttered Judson. + +But it was another voice that ruffled the serenity of Steve Siebert. On +a box by the door the hooped figure of Andy McCann straightened up. + +"I reckon," he sneered, "that that old gray-backed lizard has got him a +poke full o' nuggets out in the Topaz, and he's goin' to hand it over +for to pay for a church edifice," and his senile giggle was more +maddening than the laughter of the crowd. + +"I likely brought in full as much as yonder ground-owl ever scooped out +o' the ground. But ye don't answer my question, neither. Why ain't you +fellers made some preparation for buildin'?" + +"Mr. Siebert," said the parson soothingly, "the men and women interested +in our work have subscribed several hundred dollars toward a building +fund. But we are none of us prepared to finance such a work as yet. We +wish to put up a fairly good structure when we get at it. We cannot +freight in the frame and heavier timbers. They must be cut and sawn on +the spot. The expense of getting in a mill, aside from the labor, is +enormous." + +"I reckon these hard-shells have tol' you that because their pockets +squeal ev'ry time they put their hands in 'em," growled Siebert. "I know +'em." + +"Look here, old-timer," said Joe Hurley, sharply, "we figure it will +cost close to ten thousand dollars to put up a church. What do you say +to that?" + +"Put your hand in your poke and hand over ten thousand in dust, you +miser'ble desert rat!" cackled Andy McCann. + +"And how much of it can you rake up, after prospectin' this country for +nigh on to thutty years?" was Steve's answer, glowering at his enemy. + +"Wal, dern your hide! there was a time when I might ha' done my share of +it without weepin' none," muttered Andy. "And if it hadn't been for +you----" + +"Is that so?" cried the other old man, his face ablaze with wrath. "And +how about me bein' right in sight once't of the most promisin' lead that +ever was uncovered in Canyon County?" + +"If it hadn't been for you," rejoined Andy, "I would ha' been rollin' in +wealth. And you know it--dad burn your hide!" + +"Look here," interjected Joe Hurley, interested rather than amused. "If +you both tell the truth, you must have together struck a rich streak. +Why didn't you develop it? You were partners, weren't you?" + +"Me, pardners with that yere!" croaked Steve. + +"D'ye think for one moment," demanded Andy, "that I'd help make that +feller's fortune? Not on your tintype!" + +Here Judson, with enormous disgust, broke into the discussion. "Dad burn +it!" he exclaimed, "this ain't helpin' none to build the parson a +church." + +The others were laughing uproariously. Steve and Andy glared at each +other like two angry dogs with a strong fence between them. But slowly +their fierce expressions changed. Hunt, who was watching them with +something more than idle curiosity, saw that both old men began to look +slyly at each other as they calmed down. The others paid no further +attention to Steve and Andy, the flurry of their verbal battle being +over. But in the rheumy eyes of Andy there grew a light which seemed to +register some secret amusement, while Steve's toothless grin displayed a +humorous appreciation of a phase of the argument that the bystanders in +general quite failed to catch. + +"Now," thought the Reverend Willett Ford Hunt, "I wonder, to use one of +Joe's favorite expressions, what those two old fellows have up their +sleeves. Perhaps the joke is on Canyon Pass, rather than on these two +queer old prospectors. I wonder!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII--SEVERAL CONCLUSIONS + + +Nell Blossom had not gone back to sing at Colorado Brown's place. It was +some time before Hunt found this out, and he wondered why she had broken +her agreement with Colorado, for he knew she had entirely recovered from +the effects of her adventure in the storm. + +Had the parson asked his sister, Betty might have illuminated his mind +not a little regarding this and other mysteries about Nell; but he was +chary of ever speaking of the singer in other than a general way before +Betty. + +To tell the truth, he shrank from any argument regarding the Blossom of +Canyon Pass. He had learned just how sweet and innocent Nell Blossom +was. But he did not know how far Betty might approve of the younger +girl, especially if he showed any personal interest in the latter. + +He was firm in his conviction that Nell Blossom was a being set apart as +his mate from the beginning! Strange as it might seem at first view, +Hunt was positive that he and the half-tamed mining-camp girl held much +in common. He had found opportunity to talk with her of late--both at +Mother Tubbs' and elsewhere--and he knew her tastes and aspirations far +better than before. She had confided to him, although with much +timidity, some of her girlish desires and her conclusions upon topics +which she had thought seriously about. + +She was, too, of the very stuff these Canyon Pass people were made--one +of themselves. If he got Nell Blossom for a wife she would be of greater +aid to him in his work here than any other one person possibly could be. +With Nell Blossom for his very own, the Reverend Willett Ford Hunt would +indeed have won the Heart of Canyon Pass. + +Hunt kept all this a secret and said little to Betty about the cabaret +singer. Nothing indeed that gave her a chance to tell him that her eyes +had seen already most of what he thought was hidden from her, and seen +it in a single glance. + +As her brother sat beside the bed the day of the ice-storm and held Nell +Blossom's hand, Betty saw how it was with the Reverend Willett Ford +Hunt. The only matter that puzzled her at all was Nell's possible +attitude. Unsophisticated as the mining-camp girl was, Betty could not +know for sure what Nell's feeling for the parson was. + +But Betty might have given Hunt a pretty correct explanation of why Nell +did not go back to sing at Colorado Brown's place. The girls were +together almost every day after their adventure in the storm. + +Betty did not go to Mother Tubbs'. She scarcely left the hotel at all in +the day time, though going out on the first Sunday following their +perilous adventure to attend church service. + +But Nell came to the Wild Rose, and the two girls grew to know each +other better than before. This because they both wished a closer +understanding. Nell had begun to admire something about Betty Hunt +besides her frocks and the way she manicured her nails. The parson's +sister now desired to know Nell better for the parson's sake. + +"I'm sick to death, Betty, singing for those roughnecks," Nell had burst +forth on one occasion. "I used to think it was great to have 'em cheer +me and clap me off and have 'em throw money at me. But I'm plumb sick of +it." + +"It's a great gift to be able to move people with one's voice so." + +"It ain't nothing of the kind!" Nell declared vehemently. "It's because +they ain't got no brains--at least, what they've got are addled with +hootch. I've only got just a nice, sweet, singing voice. Them fellers +are so plumb ignorant that they hoot and holler for me because I please +'em. I'd love to be really able to sing!" + +"I am not so sure that you cannot sing, as you mean it," was Betty's +sympathetic rejoinder. "Merely, you do not sing worth-while +songs--altogether." + +"I'm mighty ashamed about singing that 'This Is No Place for a +Minister's Son,'" burst out Nell suddenly. + +"Why, I think it's funny," and Betty laughed. "I've often heard Ford +humming it." + +"Oh! I--I sang it at him, Betty. I did!" + +"I am quite sure it never disturbed Ford in the least." + +"Well, no, I reckon not. Nothing a girl like me done----" + +"Did!" + +"_Did_--could bother a man like Parson Hunt." + +"I am not so sure of that," Betty rejoined, eyeing the other girl +keenly. + +But Nell Blossom, if she had a secret, hid it successfully. Betty did +not miss the opportunity, however, of trying to help her friend. + +"Suppose you learn some better songs--some really worth-while pieces? I +brought my music with me, although I do not know if I shall ever touch a +piano again." She sighed. "But I sometimes sit and hum over my +favorites. You read music of course, Nell?" + +"I don't know a note--to speak the name of it, I mean," confessed the +singer. "But I never saw the piece yet that I couldn't pick up pretty +easy. Rosabell Pickett says I'm a natural sight-reader with a great ear +for harmony." + +She accepted with gratitude the selections Betty made from her library. +Betty had chosen the songs with some little guile. That fact was proved +by what occurred later. + +"Anyway," Nell concluded, "I ain't going back to Colorado's place for a +while. I got some money, and Sam's bringing his pay home to Mother Tubbs +pretty reg'lar now. I can live for a while without singing for those +roughnecks, that's a sure thing!" + +But Betty had her own grave thoughts--thoughts that kept her awake at +night. Hollow eyes and certain twitching lines about her sensitive mouth +were the result of these secret cogitations. Hunt noticed his sister's +changed appearance but he misunderstood its source. He feared that Betty +found the life at Canyon Pass, with winter coming on, too hard to bear. +Yet he saw that she always cheered up when Joe Hurley ran in to see +them. + +The Eastern girl's trouble did not arise from the locality in which she +was forced to live; it was the presence of one person in the town that +caused her such serious thoughts. The man who had passed Nell Blossom +and her in the storm, whose unexpected appearance had made Nell faint, +had shocked Betty much more deeply than he did the singer! + +Without that heavy mustache, with his waving hair cut more to conform to +Eastern ideas of propriety, the girl visualized the fellow as she had +once known Andy Wilkenson. He was the man, thought of whom had so +worried Betty's mind for these long months since she had left +Grandhampton Hall. Andy Wilkenson! The man she had hoped never to see or +hear from again. Her worst fears on coming West were now realized. And +his reappearance here at Canyon Pass warned Betty that she could never +allow Joe Hurley to see just how much she had learned to care for him. + +She went to church on that next Sunday morning in fear and trembling. +She sat well forward as usual. But she knew when "Dick Beckworth" came +in and sat down in one of the rear seats. + +His coming here surprised them all. Heads were turned, and there was +whispering. Dick was dressed in the same flashy way, for he had left a +trunk at the Grub Stake when he went away in the spring. He sat during +the sermon with a sneer on his handsome face and the dancing light of +the demon flickering in his hard eyes. Hunt usually met strangers after +the meeting with a cordial handclasp. He did not approach Dick +Beckworth. + +Betty drew a veil across her face before she arose for the benediction. +She waited to return to the hotel with her brother. + +She was the only person in the assembly who was not amused by the +appearance of the two old prospectors, Siebert and McCann, at the +service. They did not come in together; and when Andy McCann entered to +see Steve seated at one side, he chose a seat just as far from the other +old-timer as he could and on the other side of the house. Their scowls +turned on each other were more significant than words. + +Hunt did not let Steve and Andy get away without a personal word with +them. + +"I am very glad to welcome you among us, Mr. McCann," he said to that +individual when he shook the pocket-hunter's wrinkled claw. + +"Wal, it's all right, I reckon," muttered Andy. "In a meetin' you've got +to stand for most anybody droppin' in. But that old rip," nodding toward +the distant Steve, "would look a heap better 'cordin' to my idee in jail +than at church." + +"We must be charitable, Mr. McCann," said the parson, moving toward the +other prospector. + +Old Steve was quite as bitter in his comment. But he added something, +too, that gave Hunt pause. + +"It seems a good deal like old times. I used to go to church reg'lar, +onc't," said Siebert. "But I miss something, parson--I sure do." + +"What's that?" asked Hunt smiling. + +"Let alone I never expected to see that old has-been at meetin'--an' I +don't reckon he's come for any good--I see you don't look jest like a +preacher ought to look. Say, don't ministers dress different no more +from other folks? You might be a banker or a gambler as far as your coat +goes to show." + +The blunt criticism shocked Hunt not a little. Up to this time he had +carefully eschewed clerical dress. He began to wonder if, after all, he +was not making a mistake. + +Dick Beckworth was not on the street when the parson and his sister went +back to the hotel. In fact Dick had slipped out very soon after the +meeting ceased and was then in conference with Boss Tolley in the little +office at the end of the long bar in the Grub Stake. + +"Well," said Tolley, eagerly, "did you see her?" + +"Sure as sure." + +"Is it her?" demanded the dive keeper, grinning like a wolf. + +"It sure is. It's her that was Betty Hunt." + +"Dad burn it! And she paradin' 'round here like an unmarried woman. +Dick, we got that parson on the hip." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII--CATASTROPHE + + +No more snow or ice had followed that first sharp, furious blizzard; but +with the higher temperature had come heavy rainstorms which the natives +declared were quite unseasonable. The rivers were bank full. The lower +end of Main Street was washed by the water from both Forks. Several +families had been obliged to move into the higher part of the town. + +But the flood had not driven Mother Tubbs and her little family out of +their home. The wise old woman did not know just why Nell Blossom sang +no more at the dance hall; but in her mind she knew that "suthin' was +workin' on that gal." Meanwhile she proceeded to "work on" Sam as usual. + +Rocking on her back porch with the vista of dreary yards under her eye, +but the rugged beauties of the Topaz Range in the distance, she +philosophized as usual on all things both spiritual and mundane. Sam was +pottering about a broken table that she had convinced him he must mend +before he left the premises for a stroll into the town, it being +Saturday afternoon. + +"I must say, too, that it seems as peaceful as Sunday back in +Missouri--or pretty near," Mother Tubbs observed. "Things is changed yere +in Canyon Pass. Ye must admit it, Sam." + +"Drat it!" snarled her husband, sucking a thumb he had just smashed with +his hammer. "I admit it all right. The Pass is gettin' plumb wuthless to +live in. Psalm singin', and preachin', and singin' meetings, and sech. +Huh! Parson wants me to come to Bible class." + +After all he said it with some pride. Sam had, as he expressed it, "a +sneakin' likin'" for the parson. But he was determined not to show that +this was so before Mother Tubbs. + +"Ain't you glad to live less like a savage--more decent and civilized +like--than you useter, Sam Tubbs?" demanded the old woman. + +"I was satisfied as I was," grunted her husband. "I ain't one o' them +that's always wantin' change and somethin' new. If I had been, I'd +picked me a new woman before now." + +"The pickin' ain't very good in Canyon Pass," rejoined Mother Tubbs +complacently. "Them that's got husbands don't want to exchange. 'Twould +be like jumpin' out of the skillet onto the coals. Them women that ain't +got nary man are well content, I reckon, to get on without one if you, +Sam Tubbs, are the only hope they got." + +"Huh!" + +Nell's sweet, clear voice floated down from the upper chamber. In +accents that caressed, she sang an old song which she had found in Betty +Hunt's music, arranged for solo use. + +"Hear that child, Sam!" whispered the old woman, wiping her eyes when +the pleading verse was finished. "Ain't that heaven-born?" + +"Huh!" said Sam, but in truth a little doubtfully. "I never considered +our Nell as bein' pertic'lar angelic. No ma'am! Not before." + +"She's as good as any angel," declared Mother Tubbs with conviction. +"Only she's flighty. Or useter be. And if she'd just go and sing them +songs at meetin', Canyon Pass would learn for once just what good +singin' is." + +"I dunno but you're right, old woman," said Sam softly, as the voice +from above took up the song again. "I've heard Nell Blossom sing many a +time before; but it never so sort o' caught in muh cogs as that song +does. But she can't sing them kind o' tunes in Colorado Brown's or the +Grub Stake." + +"Hush, Sam! Don't mention it!" whispered his wife. "I hope to the Lord +she won't never hafter work in them places again." + +"Huh! How's she going to live?" asked the startled Sam. + +"You leave it to Parson Hunt," declared Mother Tubbs in the same +secretive way, "and Nell Blossom won't never no more hafter sing for her +livin'." + +Sam stared. His bald head flushed as his eyes began to twinkle and the +knowing grin wreathed his sunken lips. He suddenly burst into a cackle +of delight. + +"D'ye mean it? The parson? By mighty! So he's willin' to go the way of +all flesh, is he? Nell needn't work no more for her livin' if she don't +want?" + +"You poor fool," scornfully said his wife, holding up one of his +enormous blue yarn socks with a gaping hole in the heel, "if the parson +is as hard on his socks as you are, Sam Tubbs, Nell will have her work +cut out for her--sure as sure!" + +It was the very next night that Nell Blossom sang for the first time at +the Canyon Pass church service. She had been twice to morning service +before this, coming in alone, refusing to sit near Mother Tubbs or +Betty, and remaining silent even through the hymns. In truth, she had +never learned those hymns that chanced to be given out on those +occasions. Rosabell Pickett did yeoman's service at the badly tuned +piano; but her own voice had the sweetness of a crow with the carrying +power of that same non-soothing bird. Rosabell kept the hymns going; but +sometimes Hunt could have wished for even Miss Pelter of the Ditson +Corners' choir to carry the air! + +As has been said, the Sunday evening service at Tolley's old shack was +not so formal as the morning session. Hunt tried in the evening to lead +the singing himself. He had managed through the summer to teach the +young folks several of the newer and more sprightly songs out of the +collection he had brought with him from the East. Some of the rougher +young men who filled the rear benches in the evening were glad to make a +noise with something besides their heavy boots, and they "went in" for +the singing with gusto. + +On this evening Nell came in with Mother Tubbs and Sam, but she sat down +on the front bench between Betty and Rosabell Pickett. She handed some +sheets of music to Rosabell, and Betty recognized them with a flush of +pleasure. It was plain that the accompanist had been prepared for Nell's +new move. + +"Do you think Mr. Hunt would let me sing a song?" whispered Nell to +Betty. + +"Let you!" returned Betty eagerly. "He'll love you for it." + +Perhaps the emphatic statement was made by the parson's sister without +thought of how it sounded. Nell's flower-like face warmed to a flush +that spread from the collar of her blouse to the waving tendrils of hair +under her hat brim. She hid her face quickly from Betty. The latter, +perhaps somewhat wickedly, enjoyed the other girl's confusion. Her heart +had suddenly expanded to Nell and her brother Ford. If she saw no +happiness ahead of her in life, Betty Hunt had begun to hope that the +Reverend Willett Ford Hunt and the Canyon Pass blossom would realize all +the happiness that a loving pair could compass. + +With a whisper and a head shake Betty informed the parson of what he +might expect from Nell at this meeting. Her presence had already filled +Hunt's heart with singing. Now, before his talk to the congregation--it +was not a sermon--he smiled at Nell and sat down while she sang the song +she had prepared and that had so stirred the hearts of Mother Tubbs and +Sam the day before. + +Rosabell Pickett for once got the spirit of the composition. She played +the accompaniment softly, and she slurred over the sour notes of the old +piano. When Nell stood up a hush of expectancy fell upon the +congregation. Even the boot-scrapings from the back benches were +silenced. + +Never had Canyon Pass heard Nell Blossom sing so sweetly. The girl's +tones fairly gripped the heart-strings of her hearers and wrung them. +The tears rolled down good old Mother Tubbs' face. Sam sat beside her, +looking straight ahead more like a gargoyle than ever, afraid to wink +for fear the salt drops would carom from his bony cheeks. Steve Siebert +in his corner, and Andy McCann in his--as far apart as the width of the +room would allow--looked like their burros, carved out of desert rock. +Nothing seemed to move those old fellows. But the rest of the +congregation--even the roughnecks on the back seats--were subdued when the +song was done. + +After the service Hunt apprehended a new note in the manner and speech +of his flock. He scarcely realized that his own talk had been more +spiritual than usual because of the emotion roused within him by Nell's +song. There was a hush over the room. The noisy fellows went out on +tiptoe. Voices were subdued. For almost the first time the atmosphere of +this rough room where they "held meetings" had become that of a real +house of worship. + +"Steve Siebert is right," the parson told himself not without gravity. +"It is time that I should show my own respect beyond peradventure for +the religion I preach. Betty must shake the mothballs out of that coat." + + * * * * * + +Lizard Dan tooled his six mules across the East Fork. The water was more +than waist deep, and the beasts swam for part of the way, and the inside +passengers sat on the small of their backs with their boots up on the +cross-straps. The driver urged the team with voice and whip up the muddy +rise to the Wild Rose. His desert-stained face was full of wrinkles of +excitement. Joe Hurley, who chanced to be lingering at the door of the +hotel, spied the emotion in the bus-driver's countenance. + +"What's got you, old-timer?" asked the mining man, strolling down to the +step below the driver. "Something on the road over from Crescent City +bite you?" + +"I got bit all right," growled Lizard Dan. He stooped to put his tobacco +stained lips close to Joe's ear. "The sheriff of Cactus County rode over +on the seat with me. Yeppy! And he dropped off back yonder to talk to +Sheriff Blaney." + +"Something doing?" + +"Youbetcha! The Cactus County sheriff was tellin' me. He's been after a +guy that turned a trick last summer--fore part of the summer in fact--'way +out beyond Hoskins. He was some pretty shrewd short-card tin-horn, if +you ask me." + +"A gambler? Anybody know him?" asked Joe quite idly. + +"I didn't get his name. The sheriff was pumpin' me a lot about who was +new--if any--in Canyon Pass. I told him," and Dan grinned widely, "that +'bout the newest citizens we had yere was Parson Hunt and his sister." + +"You're some little josher, aren't you, Dan?" said Joe, grimly. "What +had the feller done?" + +"The one the sheriff's after? Cleaned out a sheep camp with marked cards +and then made his get-a-way under a gun. Cool as the devil! Shot one of +those sheepticks--I mean to say, a shepherd. Never did have much use for +sheep men----" + +"Me neither," admitted Hurley. + +"But they are ha'f human--leastways, that's how I look at 'em," pursued +Lizard Dan. "They should have their chance. Marked cards and a gun is no +way to win their spondulicks. No, sir." + +"What makes the Cactus County officer think the sharper came this way?" + +"Says he and a posse follered him to the Canyon County line, up yonder, +'long back in the summer. They figgered he'd gone Lamberton way, so they +swayed off and didn't come yere. Now something new has come up about the +feller, I take it, and the Cactus County sheriff has come yere to get +Blaney to help comb this part of the territory. I told him we didn't +have no loose gamblers yere. They all got jobs and have held 'em some +time." + +"Tolley is always picking up new hombres," said Hurley thoughtfully. "I +can't keep run of all the scabby customers he brings in here." + +"But not card-sharps," said Lizard Dan, shaking his head. "He ain't got +a new dealer in a dog's age. You wouldn't count Dick Beckworth one. It's +just like he's always been yere." + +He waddled away with the mail sacks and his large-bore gun. Hurley found +himself suddenly startled by an entirely uncalled-for thought. Surely +nothing Lizard Dan had said should have inspired this: + +Dick Beckworth had been away from Canyon Pass from the early springtime +until recently. He had ridden in from the wilderness on the occasion of +the first blizzard. Where had the gambler been during the months he was +missed at the Grub Stake? + +Hurley was half tempted to go to the Grub Stake and make an inquiry or +two, but since that notable night when Steve Siebert had held up Tolley +and his gang, Joe had seldom been inside the place. He did, however, +wander along the now quiet street toward the honkytonk. + +It was drawing toward evening, and a drizzle of rain, which had +threatened all day, swept across the West Fork and muffled the town +almost instantly as in a gray blanket. The roar of Runaway River in the +canyon blew back into Joe's ears and made him deaf to most other sounds. + +But as he crossed the mouth of the alley beside Tolley's place he heard +a sharp "Hist!" He turned to look. A girl, wrapped in a fluttering +cloak, stood there, dimly revealed in the thicker darkness of the alley. + +"Well, what do you want?" demanded the mining man. + +"Mr. Hurley!" + +"Great saltpeter! what's the matter, Rosy?" + +"Hush! Shet your yawp!" warned the piano player. "Want to get me into +trouble?" + +"Not a bit. What's up?" + +"I don't know. But it's something--something bad." + +"Bad? About whom?" + +"Parson Hunt and his sister Betty." + +"Betty Hunt?" muttered the mining man with an emphasis that would have +told a woman of much less discernment than Rosabell Pickett all that was +necessary. + +"Yeppy. You like her, Joe Hurley. You want to look out for her. Somebody +has got to. That Dick Beckworth----" + +"Dick the Devil?" + +"You said it! He's got something on her." + +"He's got something on Betty Hunt? Never!" + +"No use layin' your hand on your gun butt. It needs something besides +that. When fire's touched to the end of the fuse, no use tryin' to stamp +on the ashes. It is burning toward the powder barrel. The thing's +started. Dick's told it about her----" + +"Told what?" asked Hurley, almost shaking the girl. + +"That she was married back East, long before she come out here, and is +posing here as an unmarried woman. He says he knows the man that was +married to her." + +Hurley was stricken dumb for the moment. Yet recovery was swift. He +stammered: + +"She--she might. It's no crime. She--she might have got a divorce and +taken her maiden name again, if it's true. But I wouldn't take Dick the +Devil's word as to the color of the blue sky." + +"He's got a paper to prove it. I seen him show it to Boss Tolley. I run +to get you. I saw you at the Wild Rose. I figger you are the one to tell +the parson." + +"And who's to tell Betty?" Joe inquired. "I--I----" + +"Oh! What's that?" exclaimed Rosabell, shrinking away. "I--I thought it +was thunder." + +A muttering sound grew in Hurley's hearing, but he paid little attention +to it at first. Was it this Betty had meant all the time, when she had +kept him at arm's length? When she had told him that there was somebody +back East who, at least, had her promise? + +Then the air quaked as though there had been a volcanic upheaval within +the immediate district of Canyon Pass. Rosabell shrieked and ran back +into the gloom, disappearing toward the rear door of the Grub Stake. Joe +ran out into the street, seeing other men coming from the shops and +saloons. + +His gaze by chance was turned upon the wagon track down the slope beyond +the West Fork. He saw a flaming patch of white there. It came down the +wagon track with terrific speed. In a moment he realized that it was a +white pony and rider. + +Lashing the steed the rider forced it into the West Fork. The animal had +to swim for it. It seemed as though the stream had filled terrifically +within the last few minutes. + +Out of the flood scrambled the pony. It was not until then that anybody +recognized Nell Blossom and her cream-colored mount. She urged the horse +up into the town and they heard her clear voice rising above the sullen +thunder of the three rivers: + +"The Overhang! The Overhang! It's down--it's filled the canyon! Runaway +River is stoppered like with a cork in the neck of a bottle. The flood +is coming!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX--HIS LAST CARD + + +Hunt lingered in his sister's room after Joe Hurley had left them. They +were talking when Maria came up to take away the tea things. The Mexican +woman was greatly excited. + +"Those bad men! She get it now--in the neck you say, si? My goodness, +yes! He no run you out of town lak' he say, Seor Hunt." + +"Who is this who wants to run me out?" asked Hunt good-naturedly. "I +must be getting awfully unpopular in some quarters." + +"Those bad man at Tolley's Grub Stake. Ah, yes, Seor! She hate you--my +goodness, yes!" + +Betty began to be troubled--as she always was when she heard her +brother's peace threatened. + +"Have you heard something new, Maria?" she asked the woman. + +"Cholo, he hear. He come just now from the sheriff. A man come to town +and he say he want those bad man." + +"What bad man? Not my brother?" cried Betty. + +"_Madre de Dios!_ Is the Seor Hunt bad?" gasped Maria. "Why, it is Dick +the Deevil I say." + +"Ah-ha!" muttered Hunt, with more interest than surprise. He did not +look at Betty. "This man has something against Dick Beckworth?" + +"Cholo whisper to me, jus' now, before I come up here, that the sheriff +weel arres' Dick the Deevil. For robbery and swindle, you say. Si!" + +"This is news!" ejaculated Hunt, putting on his coat and hat. "I must go +down and get the particulars." + +"Oh, Ford!" + +What Betty might have said--how much she might have betrayed of her +secret to her brother at that moment--will never be known. Before he +could turn to look at her anguished face the house shook, and an +atmospheric tremor seemed to pass over the town. An "airquake" was the +better term for it! And with it they heard a continuous thundering roar +that seemed to mingle with, yet almost drown, the chorus of the rivers +which had been a monotone in their ears all day. + +Maria screamed and flew out of the room. Hunt exclaimed: + +"Something's blown up at one of the mines, perhaps. But Joe is all +right. He could not have got far away from the hotel." + +It was not until he ran down and reached the street that he learned the +truth. Nell had pulled in her wet and exhausted pony before the hotel +and was surrounded by the excited populace. Joe was with her, and Hunt, +seeing both safe, was relieved. + +The parson listened to her story with amazement and some of the dread +that the older inhabitants of Canyon Pass felt. Something like this had +happened twenty years before. She had seen a great landslide--a large +part of the Overhang she thought--fall into the canyon. Already the +rivers were backing up. Filled as they were by the recent unseasonable +rains, the flood, if the canyon bed was really closed by the landslide, +would soon rise into the town. + +Hunt and Hurley joined a party that launched a big batteau to go down +the Runaway to the first turn in the canyon wall to see just what the +danger was. Most of the other inhabitants of Canyon Pass were crowding +into Main Street. It might be that all would have to get back to the +headlands where the mines were in order to escape the flood. + +Betty, alone in her room in the hotel, saw the people milling about +below and could only guess what it meant. She did not dare go down to +ask about the catastrophe, and Maria did not return. But as she sat +there, trembling not altogether from fear of what might happen to the +town, she saw the knob of her door turn slowly. There was somebody in +the hall--somebody coming in! + +In her terror--terror of she knew not what--the girl could not move. She +could only watch the frail door sag slowly open. She saw a hand with a +sparkling diamond upon it. But it was a man's hand. A shoulder appeared +as the door was thrust farther inward. + +Then she saw the face of the intruder. + +"Andy Wilkenson!" + +Betty did not know that her voice was audible. But as the man slid in +with the sleekness of a cat and closed the door behind him, he +whispered: + +"So you know me all right, do you? Then that makes it easier. You've got +to hide me, Betty. They are after me. I got out of the Grub Stake +through a window--just in time." + +He laughed. There was a reckless gayety in his manner that was forced; +but it seemed to Betty more terrible than if he had shown fear. + +"You wouldn't want them to get your husband, would you, honey?" he went +on, his back against the door, his eyes glittering. "And there's going +to be high water. I can't get away at once. I've got to hide. You'll +have to keep me here." He chuckled. "A girl wouldn't give her hubby up +to the sheriff, would she? I----" + +"Go away!" she gasped. + +"Not a chance!" exclaimed Dick lightly. "That sheriff will comb the +town. But he will never come into your bedroom, honey. And I'm going to +stay here till the flurry is over." + +He took a step into the room. Betty shrank from him. Her eyes were now +aflame--and there was something besides fear in them. + +"I will give you time to get out, Andy Wilkenson," she said hoarsely. +"But no more. All I have to do is to raise this window and scream----" + +"Dare to!" he snapped. "I'll stay right here. You're my wife----" + +"Nobody will believe that if I deny it!" she exclaimed. + +"So you think I can't prove it?" He laughed again. "I know that you +would deny it if you could. I know that you even tore up the marriage +certificate that old minister gave you. But I went back to him and got a +copy. And I have got a copy of the license record, and all. Think I'm a +fool? You may have fooled me about your aunt's money; but one never +knows when such a moment as this may come. If you give me up to the +sheriff, I'll tell 'em all just who and what you are. Mrs. Andy +Wilkenson! Sounds good, don't it? And 'Andy Wilkenson' is Dick +Beckworth. Being married under an assumed name don't make the tie any +less binding, Betty. You are married to me hard and fast, and I'm going +to turn the fact to good account. Don't doubt it!" + +"I--I'll call my brother," said Betty weakly. + +"I bet he doesn't know, either. Nor that Joe Hurley you've been chumming +around with," and Dick chuckled hugely. "Oh, I've got you, my girl. You +had the chance to call me, and call me good, that time. But it's my turn +now. You are going to hide me here, and then help me get away. I know +your breed. You'd die rather than let the story of our marriage get to +the people of Canyon Pass." + +The girl sat huddled in the chair by the window. She stared at him with +an intensity of horror that seemed to have paralyzed her whole body. And +what he said--his final declaration--she knew was true. + +She would much rather die than have it revealed to all Canyon Pass that +Dick the Devil was the discarded husband of the Reverend Willett Ford +Hunt's sister! + +The smile with which Dick watched the agonized girl marked the cruelty +that was the underlying trait of his whole character. He knew she +suffered. He knew how she suffered now. And he exulted in it. + +But he was, too, fearful for his own safety. The crime he had committed +miles away across the sheep range, and which had set the sheriff on his +track, was a most despicable one. It was, too, in this community a crime +that might easily excite the passions of the rougher element. Men had +been lynched for much less than Dick Beckworth's crime! + +With night coming on, the waters about the town rising, and no means for +quick egress before morning at least, Dick the Devil realized that his +only hope lay with this tortured girl. Aside from the satisfaction it +gave him to make her shield him, he was quite aware that no better place +than Betty Hunt's room could be imagined in which he might hide from the +officers. + +"There's a closet," he said finally, seeing the small door in the +partition. "Put me in that. You can let your brother in if you like--or +Joe Hurley." He sneered at her. "They'll never believe the proper Betty +Hunt has a man hidden in her room. What's that?" + +He hissed the question, grabbing the handle of the closet door, and +looked back at the one opening from the hall. There was a light step +outside; the door-knob rattled. + +"Quick!" breathed Dick. "Don't say a word----" + +He tried to open the closet door. Although it was a spring latch, it was +likewise locked. All Betty's little valuables were in the closet, and +she had the key. + +"The key!" shrilled the man. "You fool! Do you want me to give the thing +away? As sure as you are alive I'll tell them you're my wife. Quick!" + +Betty did not move. She shook her head. The door-knob was again rattled. +A muffled voice cried: + +"Betty!" + +The knob turned--as it had before, slowly, hesitatingly. The door was +pushed inward. Dick the Devil snatched a pistol from its sling under his +left armpit, with the motion of a rattlesnake about to strike. + +Nell Blossom stepped into the room and closed the door swiftly behind +her. She had seen Betty. Her cry of "Betty! what's happened?" was +answered by a sigh from Dick of such relief that it seemed like a sob. + +Alert as she could be, Nell wheeled to look at the man. Although there +was no light in the room and the evening was drawing on, the singer knew +that half-crouching figure at first glance. She saw, too, the flash of +the weapon in the gambler's hand. + +"Dick Beckworth! I might have known you'd come sneaking to a girl's room +to hide," said Nell, her voice quite unshaken. "Put away that gun. I'm +not the sheriff." + +Dick was silent. But he had the grace to put away his gun. Nell said to +Betty: + +"Has he scared you, honey? Don't you mind. Dick the Devil has got his +comeupance this time, I reckon. The minute he steps out of this house +they'll nab him. Somebody saw him sneak in by the back way. But nobody +thought of his daring to come into your room. Come on, you, get out! +Take your miserable carcass off to some other part of the house." + +"Oh, Nell!" breathed Betty. + +"Don't you be afraid, honey," said the cabaret singer again. "This +rascal knows me, I reckon. It's too bad he wasn't killed--like I thought +he was--back last spring when I was fool enough to be caught by his sleek +ways and talk. Oh, yes! I played the fool. And I come pretty near +believing since that time that there wasn't any decent men in the world. +All because of that whelp." + +For once Dick Beckworth had nothing to say. At another time he might +have flouted the girl. But the moment was not propitious. He stood and +glared from Nell to Betty, and back again; but said nothing. + +"Come! Beat it!" said Nell harshly. "Don't you hear me?" + +"I am going to remain here," Dick said in a low voice. "Right here." + +"Not much!" Nell wheeled to open the door. "I'll call 'em up. They are +watching for you below." + +"Nell!" gasped Betty. + +"You better speak for me," sneered Dick. "I don't reckon that you two +girls will turn me over to the sheriff. Don't forget, Nellie, that once +I was your honey-boy." + +The mining-camp girl's whole person seemed to fire under this spur. Her +face blazed. She was tense with wrath--wrath that she could not for the +moment audibly express. + +But when she did speak her voice was as hard as ice and her accents as +cold: + +"Dick Beckworth, you get out of here! March!" + +"Not much." + +Nell had been riding. She never went abroad on horseback without wearing +her belt and gun. The latter flashed into her hand too quickly for Dick +to have again produced his weapon, had he so desired. + +"Put 'em up!" was Nell's concise command. "Don't flutter a finger wrong. +I been thinking for months that I saw you go over that cliff to your +death. Maybe I worried some over being the possible cause of your taking +that drop. But I feel a whole lot different about you now, Dick +Beckworth. Keep your hands up and march out of this room." + +The man, sneering, his countenance torn with emotion, his eyes as +glittering as those of an angered serpent, came forward into the middle +of the room again. He was staring at Betty rather than at Nell. He said +to the former: + +"You going to let me go out, Betty?" + +"Oh! Oh! I----" + +"Don't mind even to answer him--the dog!" Nell muttered. "I swear, after +this, I would not lift a hand to stop the boys from stringing him up." + +"Is that so?" queried Dick, turning to her again. "You think you've got +things your own way, don't you? I'll show you. Betty! tell this girl +what and who I am and why I am not going to leave this room. Tell her, +my dear, why you can't bear to see me given up to the sheriff." + +"You dog!" ejaculated Nell. + +"Tell her, Betty," commanded Dick, but without raising his voice. + +The parson's sister, fairly writhing in her chair, put up her clasped +hands to Nell. She whispered brokenly: + +"Don't--don't send him out. Don't tell, Nell. I--I couldn't bear it!" + +"In the name of common sense," queried the singer, "what do you mean? +This fellow's frightened you out of your wits." + +"No, no! For my sake----" + +"You're crazy. He can't hurt you. I have him under my gun. If he makes a +move----" + +"Betty!" shot in Dick. + +"For Ford's sake let him stay!" begged Betty, and sank back in her chair +again, almost at the point of collapse. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX--CLEARING SKIES + + +Betty Hunt had, after all, retained her self-possession in a +considerable degree throughout this trying interview. Dick Beckworth's +appearance had startled her; but already she had schooled her mind to +expecting an interview with him. + +Really, the coming of Nell Blossom and what had followed her entrance +had disturbed Betty more than Dick's appearance. But now she had got a +clutch again upon her mental processes and at this moment, when Dick was +about to reveal to the cabaret singer the fact that Betty was his wife, +the Eastern girl apprehended and seized upon the plea she believed +would, more than any other, cause Nell to let the villain remain without +question. + +For, with the hotel surrounded and the officers searching for Dick, it +was probable that the moment he stepped out of the room he would be +caught. So Betty cried: + +"For Ford's sake let him stay!" + +It was, after all, a shot in the dark. Betty had not been sure up to +this moment that Nell really felt toward the parson as his sister knew +Hunt felt toward Nell. But she was in a desperate plight. Betty could +not bear to have even her girl friend know of her relation to Dick +Beckworth, not as Dick would tell it! And if the villain spread the tale +as he promised, Betty knew that her brother's work might be greatly +injured even in such a community as Canyon Pass. + +For after all, although the mining town was not like Ditson Corners, +human nature is about the same everywhere. Betty had done nothing +disgraceful in marrying Dick Beckworth and leaving him so abruptly. But +for hiding the unfortunate alliance and posing here as an unmarried +girl, the tongue of gossip would undoubtedly drag both her own name and +Ford's through the mire of half-truths and suppositions. + +If Nell loved Ford and thought that Dick might reveal something that +would injure the parson, Betty hoped the singer would relent. Afterward +she could in her own way explain to Nell. + +The latter stared now at Betty; but Dick was quite in the line of her +gun and her hand did not tremble. + +"You--you mean he's got something on the parson?" she asked. + +Dick grinned. Betty tried to speak. Before another word could be said, +however, there was a sudden outbreak of sound from below and loud voices +on the stair. + +"Betty!" shouted Joe Hurley's voice. + +"Is Nell Blossom there?" called Hunt. + +Both young men were tramping up to this very room. They would be here in +thirty seconds. + +Betty came to her feet as though galvanized by an electric shock. She +fumbled in her bosom and drew forth the key of the closet door. She +extended it to Dick. + +"Let him--let him hide!" she gasped. + +Nell lowered her gun. Dick grabbed the key, the grin on his face +demoniac, and leaped across the floor on the balls of his feet. In a +flash he had the door open, was inside, the door closed and the spring +lock snapped. Nell thrust the gun back into its holster. Came a +thunderous knock upon the door. + +"Girls!" shouted Hunt, "may we come in?" + +Betty and Nell looked at each other. The latter sat down on the bed. +Betty dropped back into her chair. + +"Of course you may come in, Ford," she said in a voice that, if not +unshaken, seemed calm to the ears of the men. + +Hunt and Hurley, both splashed with mud, appeared at the open door. + +"Pack a bag, Betty," said her brother. "The water is backing up into the +town, and although we don't believe it will rise high, it may come in +over the lower floor. It won't be pleasant here to-night. Joe suggests +that we take you both up to his office at the Great Hope. That can be +made comfortable for you until we see just how bad a time Canyon Pass is +in for." + +"If you say so," said Betty in a low voice. "Will you go, Nell?" + +"Sure," declared the other girl. + +She thought that probably anything was better for Betty than to remain +here. In ten minutes they set forth, hurrying down and out of the hotel. +Sheriff Blaney, and a red-faced man whom Betty remembered having seen +before on the Hoskins trail hunting a fugitive, was on the porch. + +"Derned funny where that Dick Beckworth has holed up," Blaney was +saying. "But he can't get out of town to-night, that's sure." + +That was a night scarcely to be forgotten in the annals of Canyon Pass. +The people streamed up the muddy roads on to the highlands all night +long while the waters rose higher and higher. They could hear toward +morning the crashing of undermined buildings, but not until dawn did the +fugitives learn all the damage of the flood. + +Then, just before sunrise, there sounded several tremendous explosions +from below, in the canyon. Joe Hurley and a gang of engineers had been +down there all night, and the several charges of dynamite they put in at +the barrier across the river brought the relief that had been hoped. In +an hour a way was burst through the wall of fallen dbris and the mad +waters tore a passage to freedom. + +The flood began to recede, and by the time the expedition got back from +the canyon in the batteau, the mud hole of Main Street could be seen +again from the site of the Great Hope. Joe Hurley looked grave, however, +when he rejoined his friends in the little shack of an office. + +"It's done a sight of damage," the mining man said. "A lot of folks will +have to double up till new shacks can be built. The church--Tolley's old +place--is standing, Willie." + +"I see it is," returned the parson. "But I miss some buildings----" + +"You miss one in particular," said his friend quickly. "I don't know but +you and Betty are chief among the flood sufferers." + +"What do you mean, Joe?" Betty asked quickly. + +"The hotel. It was undermined and is in ruins; looks like it had been +rammed. Oh!" as he saw Betty pale, "nobody was hurt. Cholo Sam and Maria +are safe. Fact is, not a life lost as far as we know. It might have been +a whole lot worse. We had great luck." + +"Great luck!" murmured Betty, looking at Nell, whose face likewise +showed a strange anxiety. + +"Talking about luck," added Hurley suddenly. "What do you know about old +Steve and Andy? They've been out all night." + +"What do you mean?" asked Hunt. "They haven't gone back to the desert?" + +"Not on your life. They've been prospecting where they prospected twenty +years ago. Or that's what I figger. Just at dawn, after we let off those +shots that started the dam-busting, I spied 'em prowling around up there +on the side of the canyon. Reckless as kids, those old tykes are. Might +another slip come 'most any time." + +"Oh!" said Betty, "I hope you did not leave them in danger, Joe." + +"If they were, I couldn't help 'em," Hurley replied. "You can't +influence those old desert rats any more than you could lead an iron +horse to drink. No, sir! Steve and Andy were up there on a shelf that +was uncovered by the last slip, a-holding hands and ghost-dancing like a +couple of Piute Injuns. Acted plumb crazy. + +"They must have swum the West Fork to get there. And I bet they didn't +go together. But when they got up there and saw the way open----" + +"To what?" interrupted Nell. "You haven't told us what they found." + +"That's so," chuckled Joe. "They've found something all right. I reckon +Steve and Andy can't be fooled when it comes to 'color.' They certainly +have made a ten-strike. Steve shouted down to me that the slip had +uncovered the mother lode. Of course, they are claiming everything in +sight. Got their claims staked out, and if it's really a sure-enough +find I expect there will be a small stampede to that side of the canyon. +There's gold all through those cliffs. This is a gold country. Some day +they'll find out how to work the Topaz Desert as a paying proposition. +The wash from these headlands and the canyon sides has been carried out +into the desert by the Runaway for a couple of million years--more or +less." + +"Anyway," said Nell, her eyes sparkling, "the old-timers are going to be +rich at last? How fine!" + +"It may only be a pocket--or a broken lead. But I wish 'em both +millionaires. Me, I'll stick to the Great Hope a while longer." He +looked at Betty. "I am a great feller for sticking to a thing." + +Betty blushed and looked away. Hunt said thoughtfully: + +"If the slide has only caused Siebert and McCann to be friends again, it +has brought about something good--something very good indeed." + +"Well, you talk to Judson about that. His stock is pretty near ruined. +And see Tolley. He's almost weeping. And Colorado Brown. To say nothing +of Cholo Sam, who has lost his hotel." + +The girls again looked at each other. There was the same thought in +their minds. What had become of Dick Beckworth if the hotel had +collapsed? Of course there had been plenty of time for him to have +escaped from the building before it went down. None of the structures +had fallen much before daybreak. Yet thought of him continued to trouble +the girls. + +Joe Hurley got Betty off to one side. There was no work being done at +any of the mines, so the owner of the Great Hope had nothing to do at +this hour. Having been at work all night it might be supposed that he +would need sleep; but when he looked on Betty Hunt his gaze was anything +but somnolent. + +"There's a whole lot been happening in a few short hours, Betty," he +said to the parson's sister. "It come on us so quick and it happened so +fast that it put out of my head for the time being something I had to +say to you." + +"Something--Nothing you shouldn't say, Joe?" she stammered, looking at +him with pleading eyes. + +"I get you, Betty," said the mining man. "I get you--sure. You are +warning me off the grass. I don't blame you. You think I am kind of +dense, I expect----" + +"Oh, never that, Joe," she murmured. "You are kind and thoughtful only." + +"I hope you will believe so," said Joe bluntly, "when I tell you I know +what your trouble is--and I know there ain't no chance for me now. But I +am going to be your friend just as you said I could." + +"Oh! Joe, do you know?" + +"I got wind of a story Dick Beckworth's been telling--about your being +already married. It's so, isn't it?" + +Betty, her face working pitifully, nodded. + +"All right. We won't say no more about it. He's a low dog for telling +about it. I don't want to know no more--not even who the feller is who +married you. But you can bank on me, Betty, every time! I'm your +friend." + +"I know you are, Joe," she whispered, and the look she gave him paid Joe +Hurley for a good deal. + +But he was by no means satisfied to consider that Betty Hunt's marriage +closed the door of paradise in his face. He was just as determined to +get her as ever he had been. He had learned the great thing that he had +desired to know. Betty loved him. He had seen it in her look! He could +wait, and be patient, and let things take their course. She could be +wedded to another man as hard and fast as all the laws could make it. +But Joe Hurley felt a glory in his soul that expanded from the +heaven-born belief that time would change all that! + +They started down into the town, the girls shod with rubber boots that +Joe supplied. The people of Canyon Pass were running about like muddy +ants seeking their flooded hills. Mother Tubbs and Sam were high and dry +in the loft of the stamp mill. The old woman had made Sam lug up there +her one good feather-bed--and it was dry. But as she said, she expected +to find all her other possessions "as wet as a frog's hind leg." + +Bill Judson lounged in the doorway of the Three Star and hailed them +with some cheerfulness. + +"There's one sure thing, Parson Hunt," he said. "What I got in cans +ain't water-soaked--much. And the cat and six kittens ain't drowned. I +expect I can keep shop with what I got left for a while. But Smithy's +lost all his clo'es that's fit to wear, dad burn it! I can't have him +waitin' on lady customers in a gunny-sack and a pair of ridin' boots." + +A little group surrounded Sheriff Blaney on the street as the quartette +strolled along. Joe was interested. + +"Find him, Blaney?" he asked the officer. + +"Not any. And it beats my time. I don't see where that Dick Beckworth +could have holed up. He sure didn't get out of town, for the Forks are +both plumb impassable for man or beast." + +The two girls exchanged glances again. What had happened to Dick +Beckworth? Surely he must have got out of the closet--out of the hotel---- + +Suddenly Betty seized Nell's arm with an hysterical grip. + +"Nell! Nell!" she whispered. + +"Don't give way. Of course he's all right--though he ought not to be!" + +"That closet door! It shut with a spring lock. It could not be opened +from inside!" + +"Oh, he could smash down the door." + +The two young men did not notice the girls' perturbation. They were +striding ahead. A crowd was running toward the fallen hotel. Something +of moment was happening there. But before they reached the place Cholo +Sam saw them, and started toward the parson and Joe. + +"Seor Hunt! Seor Joe! Keep the seoritas back. It is not for them to +see." + +"What's the matter, Sam?" asked Hurley. + +"That Dick the Deevil! He ees found--my goodness, yes! They haf just +pulled him out of the ruins of my Wild Rose--drowned like one rat!" + + * * * * * + +Fortunately for Canyon Pass and its flood-harassed inhabitants, frost +and snow held off that winter until remarkably late. The mild season +gave ample opportunity for new homes to be built and for the necessary +repairs to be made upon the structures that had withstood the rising +waters. + +The supply wagons brought in quantities of necessary goods from Crescent +City and the railroads. The mines and washings shut down while all +turned to the work of rebuilding. Tolley's Grub Stake and Colorado +Brown's place, both swept by the water, were the last buildings to be +remodeled. The gamblers and dance-hall girls and other employees of +those places left town, for it promised to be a lean winter for their +ilk at Canyon Pass. + +In fact, Boss Tolley sold out and got out himself among the very first +to desert the town. His departure and the sale of all his property +opened the way for Parson Hunt's supporters to buy from the purchaser of +Tolley's property the building which had been used for church services +and the lot on which it stood. + +They could not begin the building of a proper church until spring, of +course; but the money was pledged for an edifice that would cost all Joe +Hurley had planned. + +Hurley himself was able to subscribe a much larger sum than at first, +for the Great Hope had proved to be as valuable a mine as he had told +Betty and the parson he believed it would. But it was from another +source that the church building fund gained its largest contribution. + +Old Steve Siebert and Andy McCann had "struck it rich." The romance of +the uncovering of a rich vein of gold in the west wall of the canyon is +told to-day to every tourist who comes to Canyon Pass. + +How, at a time in the camp's early history, two partners who had +prospected the Topaz Range and the desert adjoining fruitlessly for +years had found traces of gold high up on the canyon wall behind a +sheltering ledge and had "locked horns" in their first quarrel over how +the lode was to be got at. + +At the height of their argument a landslip had buried the hollow where +the rich find was located and, rather than that either should profit by +the joint find, the two old fellows had never tried to open the claim +until nature, by another freak, uncovered it for them. + +"I says to Andy, and Andy says to me," Steve Siebert was wont to recall, +"when we seen how rich that lode was, a part of our profits oughter go +to the parson and his church." + +"You're mighty right we did," agreed Andy. Agreeing was now Andy's +strongest trait. "We-all got to pull together in this world. And if +we-all pull together yere in Canyon Pass we can have as good a church as +any camp needs. We sure got the best parson." + +"You're right, Andy," Steve said. "I certainly do despise folks that are +always fighting each other and pullin' contrary. No sense in it--no sense +a-tall." + +In fact the two old fellows became joint treasurers of the church +building fund. They took it upon themselves, too, to pass the +contribution plates at service. The only friction Andy McCann and Steve +Siebert were ever known to display thereafter was a mild rivalry as to +the amount of money collected from the congregation seated on their +particular sides of the house. It was suspected that each swelled his +collection considerably on Sunday mornings so that his half of the house +would make the best showing when the offering was counted! + +"Dad burn it!" muttered Bill Judson, "let 'em alone. That's a mild +matter for disagreement. They ain't likely to pull no guns on each other +over that." + +Indeed Canyon Pass was on its good behavior that winter. The exigencies +of the flood which had driven out a good deal of the worst element of +the town gave the better people a chance to take hold of its government +with a firmer hand--and a hand that Hunt and his associates were +determined should not again lose its grip. Even Slickpenny Norris in +time came to see that religious progress was not actually synonymous +with bankruptcy. + +To the parson's standard flocked many of those who had before been but +lukewarm. Not least of his new helpers was the erstwhile cabaret singer. +Nell Blossom proved her value in the work to be quite all that Hunt had +hoped. + +This busy time, when Joe Hurley and Betty really were so wrapped up in +each other that they could scarcely be expected to be of value to +anybody but themselves, the parson found in Nell Blossom a willing and +efficient aid. They were both earnest in the cause, and so earnest that +it seemed they had little thought for extraneous matters. Yet on one +occasion when they were looking over the blueprints of the proposed +church edifice, Nell slipped an extra sheet of plans into sight from +beneath those of the church. + +"Why, what is this, Ford?" she asked. + +"Oh, yes! I wanted to show you that, Nell. And get your approval." + +"My approval?" + +"Er--yes. You see, I've bought the lot right next to the church site. +Now, this cottage--er---- Here! Let me show you. We can have the mill work +for it shipped in with the church stuff. The same gang that builds the +church can run the house up. There's the front elevation. Say, Nell, how +do you like it?" + +"Why, it's lovely!" she cried. + +"Do you think it's nice enough for a parson's wife to live in?" + +"Ford! Mr. Hunt! I----" + +"Better let the 'Mr. Hunt' stuff slide, Nell Blossom," he said, getting +hold of her hand. "Even a minister's wife is supposed to call her +husband by his first name--at least, in private." + +"Oh, Ford!" + +"That's better." + +"But--but I am not fit to be a parson's wife, Ford," she cried, +trembling. + +"Do you know, sometimes I've half believed I wasn't fit to be a parson? +But it's my job and I'm going to do the best I can with it. And--I need +your help, Nell Blossom." + +"I came out here to try to win the heart of Canyon Pass. I found +it--almost as soon as I arrived. But I thought for a long time that it +never would be mine. I am bold enough now, Nell, to believe that I may +win it." + +He smiled at her with such affection in his gaze, such a warmth of +comprehension as well as desire, that Nell Blossom, tearful, trembling, +half fearful, swayed toward him and felt again his strong arms about +her. + +"If--if I can only be worthy of you, Ford. If I don't disgrace you," she +sobbed. "Just think! A singer all my life in those ugly cabarets----" + +"Ah, yes," said the Reverend Willett Ford Hunt quietly. "And only for a +difference in environment I might have been a part of the most reckless +audience you ever had to sing to. We will let the past bury the past, +Nell. We have only to deal with the future." + +And he held her to him close. + + THE END + + + + +Popular Copyright Novels + +AT MODERATE PRICES + +Ask Your Dealer for a Complete List of +A. L. Burt Company's Popular Copyright Fiction + + Adventures of Jimmie Dale, The. By Frank L. Packard. + Adventures of Sherlock Holmes. By A. Conan Doyle. + Affinities, and Other Stories. By Mary Roberts Rinehart. + After House, The. By Mary Roberts Rinehart. + Against the Winds. By Kate Jordan. + Ailsa Paige. By Robert W. Chambers. + Also Ran. By Mrs. Baillie Reynolds. + Amateur Gentleman, The. By Jeffery Farnol. + Anderson Crow, Detective. By George Barr McCutcheon. + Anna, the Adventuress. By E. 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Holmes" name="DC.Creator"/> + <meta content="en" name="DC.Language"/> + <meta content="1921" name="DC.Created"/> + <meta name="generator" content="ppgen (1.17) generated Aug 02, 2011 07:03 PM" /> + <title>The Heart of Canyon Pass</title> + <style type="text/css"> + body {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%;} + p {margin-top:1ex; margin-bottom:0; text-align:justify;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size:x-small; text-align:right; text-indent:0; + position:absolute; right:2%; padding:1px 3px; font-style:normal; + font-variant:normal; font-weight:normal; text-decoration:none; + background-color:inherit; border:1px solid #eee;} + .pncolor {color:silver;} + h1 {text-align:center; font-weight:normal; + font-size:1.4em; margin-top:4em; margin-bottom:2em;} + h2 {text-align:left; font-weight:normal; + font-size:1.2em; margin-top:4em; margin-bottom:2em;} + h3 {text-align:center; font-weight:bold; + font-size:0.9em; margin-top:1.5em; margin-bottom:1em;} + hr.pb {margin:30px 0; width:100%; border:none; border-top:thin dashed silver; clear:both;} + .sc {font-variant: small-caps;} + .center {margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto; text-align:center;} + .larger {font-size:larger;} + .smaller {font-size:smaller;} + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + table.c {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + .caption {font-size: 80%;} + .sc {font-variant:small-caps} + div.center>:first-child {margin: .5em auto 0 auto;text-align:center;} + div.center p {margin: 0 auto; text-align:center;} + hr.tb {border:none; border-bottom: 1px solid black; margin: 20px auto; width:35%} + </style> +</head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Heart of Canyon Pass, by Thomas K. Holmes + +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 Heart of Canyon Pass + +Author: Thomas K. Holmes + +Release Date: August 3, 2011 [EBook #36953] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HEART OF CANYON PASS *** + + + + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + +<div class='figcenter' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='i001' id='i001'></a> +<img src="images/illus-fpc.jpg" alt="Hunt’s arms were around the girl and he held her fast." title=""/><br /> +<span class='caption'>Hunt’s arms were around the girl and he held her fast.</span> +</div> +<p> + <br /> + <br /> + <br /> +</p> +<div class='center'> +<p><span style='font-size:1.4em;font-weight:bold;'>THE HEART OF</span></p> +<p><span style='font-size:1.4em;font-weight:bold;'>CANYON PASS</span></p> +<p> </p> +<p><span class='sc'>By</span> THOMAS K. HOLMES</p> +<p> </p> +<p><span style='font-size:smaller;'><span class='sc'>Author of</span></span></p> +<p><span style='font-size:smaller;'><em>“The Man From Tall Timber” etc.</em></span></p> +</div> +<div class='figcenter' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='i002' id='i002'></a> +<img src='images/illus-emb.png' alt='' title=''/><br /> +</div> +<div class='center'> +<p>A. L. BURT COMPANY</p> +<p>Publishers New York</p> +<p> </p> +<p>Published by arrangement with George Sully & Company</p> +<p><span style='font-size:smaller;'>Printed in U. S. A.</span></p> +</div> +<p> + <br /> + <br /> + <br /> +</p> +<div class='center'> +<p><span class='sc'>Copyrighted</span>, 1921 (as a serial).</p> +<p> </p> +<p><span class='sc'>Copyright, 1921, by</span></p> +<p>GEORGE SULLY & COMPANY</p> +<p> </p> +<p><em>All rights reserved</em></p> +<p><em>Printed in U. S. A.</em></p> +</div> +<p> + <br /> + <br /> + <br /> +</p> +<div class='center'> +<p><span style='font-size:larger;'>CONTENTS</span></p> +</div> +<table class='c' summary='table of contents'> +<tr><td style='font-size:smaller'>CHAPTER</td><td></td><td style='font-size:smaller'>PAGE</td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>I.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Discontent at Canyon Pass</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chI'>1</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>II.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Discontent at Ditson Corners</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chII'>18</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>III.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>A Shadow Thrown Before</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chIII'>30</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>IV.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Philosophy Bound in Homespun</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chIV'>38</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>V.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>How the Passonians Took It</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chV'>46</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>VI.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>The Approach</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chVI'>58</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>VII.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>The First Trick</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chVII'>69</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>VIII.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>A Flower in the Mire</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chVIII'>78</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>IX.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>A Beginning</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chIX'>91</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>X.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Mutterings of a Storm</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chX'>99</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XI.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>The Storm About To Burst</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXI'>111</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XII.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Tolley’s Tale</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXII'>122</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XIII.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Plans Are Made</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXIII'>130</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XIV.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>The Great Day Arrives</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXIV'>141</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XV.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Pep and a Little Pepper</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXV'>152</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XVI.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Love and Longing</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXVI'>161</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XVII.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>A Battle in a Girl’s Heart</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXVII'>169</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XVIII.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>The Shadow on Betty’s Path</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXVIII'>177</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XIX.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>A Good Deal of a Man</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXIX'>189</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XX.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Murder Will Out</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXX'>197</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XXI.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>The Drama of a Lie</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXXI'>211</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XXII.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>A Face in the Storm</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXXII'>219</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XXIII.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>A Great Light Dawns</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXXIII'>229</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XXIV.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>The Barrier Down—for a Moment</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXXIV'>237</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XXV.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Understanding</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXXV'>246</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XXVI.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Threatening Weather</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXXVI'>256</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XXVII.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Several Conclusions</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXXVII'>265</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XXVIII.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Catastrophe</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXXVIII'>273</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XXIX.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>His Last Card</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXXIX'>286</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XXX.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Clearing Skies</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXXX'>297</a></td></tr> +</table> +<p> + <br /> + <br /> + <br /> +</p> +<h1>THE HEART OF CANYON PASS</h1> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_1'></a>1</span><a name='chI' id='chI'></a>CHAPTER I—DISCONTENT AT CANYON PASS</h2> +<p> +The bluebird was no harbinger of spring at +Canyon Pass. Most of the inhabitants had never +seen that feathered songster and many had never +heard of it. Incidentally these same Passonians +would not have known a harbinger in any case, presuming +possibly that it was one of those new-fangled +nipples for the hydraulic pipes at the +Eureka Washings, or something fancy that Bill +Judson was selling in cans at the Three Star +Grocery. +</p> +<p> +But spring had unmistakably arrived at Canyon +Pass when those two irrepressible pocket-hunters, +Steve Siebert and Andy McCann, got together their +frayed and rusty outfits, exchanged the hard-earned +money each had toiled for during the winter over +the counter of the Three Star for supplies and +loaded each his burro till the sad-eyed little brutes +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_2'></a>2</span> +almost buckled under the weight of flour, beans, salt +pork, coffee, and prospectors’ tools. +</p> +<p> +Each ancient then mounted his moth-eaten cayuse, +jerked the towline of his objecting burro, and proceeded +out of town, Steve making the ford through +the East Fork, while Andy plodded through the +shallows of the West Fork, both bound down the +canyon for the desert country which they hated with +an unbelievably bitter hatred, yet which dragged +the old men back to its grim barrens as soon as the +spring freshets cleared the canyon and gulches of +winter’s accumulation of snow. +</p> +<p> +Canyon Pass was no beauty spot over which an +artist might rave; nor was the landscape surrounding +it even passably attractive to the eye. Man, in +delving for nature’s treasures in the rocky headlands +and along the benches of the East and West +Forks, had marred past redemption what little +beauty of form and color the rugged wedge of land +at the head of the canyon once possessed. +</p> +<p> +But on this morning there was a soft blur of blue +haze padding the sharp outlines of the canyon walls +and brooding over the higher hills. The streams +flowing on either side of the town crooned instead +of foaming boisterously in their beds, and where +they joined to make Runaway River, which followed +the bed of the canyon southerly, the thunder of their +waters seemed hushed. +</p> +<p> +It was not yet sunrise, but a pearl-gray radiance +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_3'></a>3</span> +flooded the town and canyon as far south as one +could see. Lights wavered drunkenly behind the +window-panes of the all-night saloons and dance +halls. This enticing spring morning followed the +dregs of another riotous night in Canyon Pass. +</p> +<p> +The day before had been pay day at the Eureka +Washings and the Oreode Company’s diggings and +at most of the major mining prospects in the vicinity. +At noon the miners and other workmen had +knocked off work, drawn their pay, and, cleaned +up and dressed in holiday attire, had sought the +amusement places of the town. From dark till +dawn they had as usual torn the town wide open like +a paper sack, to quote Bill Judson, as he stood in +the doorway of his store and watched the two old +desert rats leaving the dulling merriment and +drunkenness behind them as they weaved their several +ways out of sight on either bank of Runaway +River. +</p> +<p> +“They’ve been doing this for twenty years,” +added Judson, pointing with his pipe stem to the +disappearing prospectors. “An’ to my knowledge +and belief ain’t neither of ’em struck a smell of +paying color in all that time.” +</p> +<p> +“That so?” returned Smithy, his gangling clerk, +coming outside to stretch and yawn. Smithy had +the look of a young man who was still in growth +and he needed, as Judson said, “all outdoors to +stretch in.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_4'></a>4</span> +</p> +<p> +“Say! What’s the matter with them two old +sour doughs? All the time they was buyin’ that +stuff they never spoke a word to each other, and if +one of ’em caught a look from t’other he snarled +like a wild tagger! They’d have showed their +teeth—both of ’em—if they’d had any left but +stubs.” +</p> +<p> +“Ain’t spoke, to my knowledge,” said the storekeeper, +“Steve and Andy ain’t, in all of these +twenty years. ’Fore that they was as thick as hasty +puddin’ an’ throwed in together ev’ry spring—even +steven—when they went prospecting; comin’ back +yere to Canyon Pass in the fall as happy as a bride +and groom returning from the honeymoon.” +</p> +<p> +“What happened? What made ’em so sore on +each other?” asked Smithy. +</p> +<p> +“Don’t know. Never did know. Never could +find out. ’Twas right after the big slide. You’ve +heard tell o’ that, even if you ain’t been here six +months?” +</p> +<p> +“A thousand times,” returned Smithy in a bored +tone. +</p> +<p> +“Well, Steve and Andy was perky as blackbirds +in a strawyard that spring. ’Twas twenty years +back. They hid out their camp somewhere near +town that time. I always figgered they had a good +prospect below there, in the canyon. ’Twas even +reported that they took a sample of the right stuff +to the assayer’s office. But they was as close +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_5'></a>5</span> +mouthed as twin clams in the last stages of hydrophoby. +</p> +<p> +“Then come the slide. Most of us that was yere +then didn’t think of much for a week or two but +whether Canyon Pass was goin’ to be left on the +map or not. Our stake was yere, and the slide +acted like a stopper in Runaway River—like to +plugged the old canyon for fair. +</p> +<p> +“Howsumever, when the channel was more or +less clear again and we could come down off the +roofs of our shacks, Steve and Andy showed up, +but from different directions, as sore at each other +as two carbuncles, and they ain’t never been knowed +to speak to one another since. Won’t even drink +at the same bar. The only time they come into the +Three Star together is the morning they pull stakes +for the desert.” +</p> +<p> +Smithy yawned again. Steve Siebert and Andy +McCann had now disappeared beyond outcropping +warts of rock at the foot of the canyon walls. +</p> +<p> +Down the street from the direction of the mining +shafts sunk in the heights behind the town strode +a well-proportioned young man whose bootsoles +rang on the patches of earth out of which the frost +had not yet thawed. He was cleanly shaved and +clean-looking, and stood more than six feet tall, +with an air of frank assertiveness even in his carriage. +He owned a high color under the wind-tan +of his countenance, sandy hair, and brown eyes with +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_6'></a>6</span> +golden flecks in them when he was amused or when +he was angry. +</p> +<p> +And Joe Hurley was usually swayed by one emotion +or the other. Now he appeared to be amused +as he came abreast of the Three Star Grocery. +</p> +<p> +“What’s got you and Smithy up so early, Bill?” +he asked. +</p> +<p> +“Dad burn it, Joe! Don’t you know spring has +came?” +</p> +<p> +“Pshaw! I thought I heard a tree-frog last +night. So Steve Siebert and Andy McCann have +lit out same as usual? We shall miss Steve at the +Great Hope.” +</p> +<p> +“Surest thing you know, Joe. They’re on their +way. And just as sociable as usual.” Joe Hurley’s +eyes flashed with the gleam of fun that made him +beloved of all who did not hate him. But before +he could utter a comment the storekeeper added: +“Wasn’t you in to the Grub Stake to-night?” +</p> +<p> +Hurley wheeled to frown suddenly at the flickering +lamps of Boss Tolley’s gambling hall and +cabaret almost directly across the street. The quick +change of emotion reflected in his face betrayed +the character of the man. Hurley was given to sudden +impulses, usually spurred by the primal passions. +Yet he was a strong man, too, and kept the +lid on those passions if he desired. +</p> +<p> +“Nell’s got some new songs,” went on Judson +slyly. “Right cute they are. She certainly is some +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_7'></a>7</span> +songbird, Joe. Dad burn it! She’s too good for +those roughnecks.” +</p> +<p> +Hurley nodded slowly but did not show Judson +his face at once, still watching the pale lights of the +honkytonk fighting the advancing glow of the dawn. +The storekeeper had not lived sixty-five years—thirty +years of them right here in Canyon Pass—without +gaining a pretty keen insight into human +nature. He did not have to see that scowl on Joe +Hurley’s face. He knew what Joe was ruminating. +</p> +<p> +“And ’tain’t only roughnecks that our Nell’s too +good for,” pursued Judson finally. “The pizenest +snakes, they tell me, is the prettiest. An’ kids are +tickled to look at pretties. Nell’s only a kid after +all.” +</p> +<p> +“You’re right, Bill!” ejaculated the mine owner +with a snap of his jaws and his eyes sparking from +no good humor. +</p> +<p> +He glanced balefully at the Grub Stake, his face +set grimly, almost threatening. +</p> +<p> +There were fitful strains of music from within +and still some clatter of feet and voices. Boss Tolley +made it his boast that his show continued until the +last reveler left. +</p> +<p> +The Grub Stake was a sprawling, T-shaped structure +with the long bar and gaming tables in the +shank of the T, the dance hall and stage at the rear. +Beside the main entrance was the sign: “Check +Your Guns and Spurs Here,” and at the short +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_8'></a>8</span> +counter presided a young woman in a sleeveless silk +jersey and kneelength satin skirt, who dealt out +brass checks and airy persiflage indiscriminately. +</p> +<p> +The rosewood bar, behind which Boss Tolley and +his three barmen sweated at the height of the revelry, +had cost a fortune to freight over the trail +to Canyon Pass. The gaudy oil painting which +hung back of the bar, to hear Boss Tolley tell it, +had cost him a second fortune. +</p> +<p> +Dick Beckworth, who was Tolley’s chief dealer +at the tables of chance, was a privileged character. +He was supposed to be a “killer” with the ladies. +He dressed his long curls and heavy black mustache +as carefully as he did his sleek and slender person. +Cream-colored flannel shirt, a flowing tie, velvet +jacket and broadcloth trousers tucked into patent-leather +boots, and a Mexican sombrero heavy with +silver cord to top this ensemble, he made a picture +to rival the squalid painting over the bar. +</p> +<p> +The night had been strenuous at the tables, but +the gambling fever had now abated. Dick lolled +gracefully in the armchair at his empty table with +half-closed eyes, smoking a cigarette. Around a +table near the archway between the barroom and +the hall was a noisy group of miners, but they were +no longer playing. Their glasses had just been refilled +at the bar. +</p> +<p> +The rasping chords of a hard-working male +quartette beyond the archway repeated a syncopated +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_9'></a>9</span> +rhythm for the entertainment of the patrons of the +tables. +</p> +<p> +From beneath the arch into the barroom stepped +suddenly an astonishingly brilliant figure—a figure +engraved as sharply as a cameo against the blue +mist of tobacco smoke that now drifted in a thin +haze throughout the barnlike place. The group of +miners about the first table roared a greeting. +</p> +<p> +“Nell! Nell Blossom! The blossom of Canyon +Pass!” +</p> +<p> +“Give us a song of your own, Nellie!” added one +burly miner, swaying from his seat toward her, a +maudlin smile on his face. +</p> +<p> +The girl’s smiling expression changed swiftly to +one of flaring fury. She swept past the miners and +headed straight for Dick Beckworth, who had +watched the incident with a little smile flickering +about his lips. The girl’s face was still ablaze. She +needed no rouge or lipstick in any case to lend it +color. +</p> +<p> +“Dick,” she said tensely, “I hate this place!” +</p> +<p> +“I’ve already told you I hate to see you in it,” +he rejoined with apparent frankness. “Singing and +dancing for these roughnecks is far beneath you.” +</p> +<p> +The flame of her anger gradually waned as she +gazed down into his face. His usual calmness was +somewhat ruffled by her near presence. Nell +Blossom held a certain influence over him that +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_10'></a>10</span> +“Dick the Devil”—his boasted cognomen among +his admirers—was loath to acknowledge. +</p> +<p> +But she was sweet enough and pretty enough as +she stood there to stir the most placid heart. Even +the tawdry costume she wore could not detract from +her charm, the red silk blouse with the V-shaped +cut at the neck, belted velvet skirt to the tops of +tiny riding-boots on tiny feet, her clustering curls +of a golden-brown color crowned by a “cowgirl” hat—all +worn as a costume in which to sing “Pony +Boy,” and “Cheyenne,” which popular hits had +finally reached Canyon Pass. +</p> +<p> +“I hate this place, Dick,” she said again, now +wearily dropping into a chair at his elbow. +</p> +<p> +Nell Blossom possessed one of those rare complexions +that remind one of nothing so much as a +ripe Alberta peach. The crimson of her cheeks was +vivid, but tinted away into the creaminess of her +satin skin. Her lips were not too red. Her nose +was a nose to be proud of without being large. Her +ears were visible and like the blossoms of the dogwood +tree in texture and coloring. +</p> +<p> +“You know how I feel, Nell,” said Dick, with a +calm that belied his heartbeats. “I’m sick of all +this, too.” He gestured gracefully with the hand +that held his cigarette. A jewel sparkled on that +hand. “Canyon Pass is a dirty hole. If you say +the word we’ll get out of it. I’ve made a good stake. +My rake-off has given me a full poke at last. We’ll +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_11'></a>11</span> +go away from here, and I’ll get into some paying +business. I’ll never turn a card again—for Boss +Tolley or any other man. I mean it!” +</p> +<p> +The girl was looking straight into his eyes. He +met that searching gaze as inscrutably as he had +learned to endure the scrutiny of his opponent at +the poker table. +</p> +<p> +“Do you mean it, Dick?” +</p> +<p> +“Just that.” He nodded. “As I told you yesterday, +say the word and we’ll light out—now—this +morning. You don’t know much about the world +outside of Canyon Pass, Nell, but I’ll show it to +you. And I love you—love you like the devil!” +</p> +<p> +There was a force in his final phrase, although +he did not stir in his chair, that made her tremble. +A vivid flush slowly dyed her cheeks and throat. +It passed, to leave her blue eyes humid and her lips +smiling. +</p> +<p> +“If you don’t believe me—” +</p> +<p> +“I do,” she interrupted. “I believed you yesterday. +My saddlebags are all packed, Dick, and I’m +ready just whenever you are.” +</p> +<p> +A sudden electric tremor passed through the man’s +nerves. He veiled his eyes for a moment that she +might not see what flared into them. He rose with +her. +</p> +<p> +“Get into your riding clothes and we’ll start. I’ll +meet you with my horse in half an hour,” he said +almost sternly. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_12'></a>12</span> +</p> +<p> +But his eyes now answered her look of gratefulness +and adoration with what she thought was a reflection +of her own chaste desire. +</p> +<p> +So it came about that two other riders left Canyon +Pass on this spring morning while the sun still +lingered abed, and, crossing the West Fork an hour +behind Andy McCann, unlike him chose the wagon-track +to the summit of the canyon wall on that side +of Runaway River. +</p> +<p> +“Which way do we go, Dick? To Crescent +City?” +</p> +<p> +“South,” he returned, without looking at her. +</p> +<p> +“We-ell. Lamberton is further but there’s a parson +there, too. That’s another reason why I’ve +come to hate Canyon Pass. It isn’t decent like +other towns—or even up-to-date. It never had a +church or a parson. It’s got everything else—saloons, +gambling halls, honkytonks, stores, a bank, a +hotel, a stamp mill, an express office, even a school, +such as it is. But it’s heathen—plumb heathen, +Dick.” +</p> +<p> +He smiled at her then, rather a superior smile. +“It’s not the only mining town that answers your +description.” +</p> +<p> +“I know it,” Nell rejoined. “But I want to see +the other kind of towns. Mother Tubbs says Canyon +Pass ain’t got no heart, and she’s right. She +says she can’t even tell when Sunday comes, only +that Sam always comes home drunk that day. This +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_13'></a>13</span> +is Sunday, Dick. It’s a good day on which to begin +a new life.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, life’s all right,” the gambler said easily. +“Take it as you find it, Nell.” +</p> +<p> +They came up into the sunlight on the rim of +the canyon wall. Once on the level trail their +horses broke into a canter. They could look down +at certain points into the sink of the canyon where +Runaway River foamed in its narrow channel. +They spied Steve Siebert with his outfit traveling +on the river trail. McCann, of course, they could +not see, for the canyon wall on this side was almost +sheer. +</p> +<p> +Ahead, as they rode on, was the Overhang—that +monstrous projection capping the scarp of the cliff, +left ages ago when the canyon was roughed out by +the glacial floods to threaten the pass below with +utter extinction if its bulk ever fell. Parts of it had +fallen some twenty years previous. This was the +“big slide” which had for a time choked the river +channel with soil and rubble and threatened to flood +out Canyon Pass. +</p> +<p> +The scar on the steep slope of the west wall down +which that slide had fallen was now masked by a +hardy growth of scrubby trees and brush. But the +two old prospectors never passed the place, either +going out of or returning to Canyon Pass, without +keenly studying the scar. +</p> +<p> +Halfway up the height had been a shelf with a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_14'></a>14</span> +hollow behind it—an ideal spot for a secret camp, +for it could be observed neither from the trail on +the opposite side of the river nor from the rim of +the west wall of the canyon. Buried as this shelf +had been by the slide, Steve Siebert and Andy +McCann now marked the spot—and what it hid—and +then glanced sardonically at each other across +the foaming river. They snarled at each other like +a pair of toothless old wolves. The fruit of their +joint toil that lay behind that slide, one could not +reach, and the other could not compass. The secret +had festered in their hearts and poisoned the very +souls of the two ancients for these twenty years. +</p> +<p> +Above, the two in the plane of sunshine and freer +air rode along the brink of the Overhang. +</p> +<p> +“Say!” Dick said jerkily. “Let’s not go to +Lamberton—not direct.” +</p> +<p> +“What?” +</p> +<p> +There was a sharp note in her voice. She turned +in her saddle to face him. Her gaze narrowed. +Was there after all a doubt in the very depths of +Nell’s soul about the man? +</p> +<p> +“I know a fine place—better hotel than at Lamberton—really +a nice place to stop. We can reach +it before night. Hoskins. You know?” +</p> +<p> +He still spoke nervously. Nell’s gaze no more +left his face. She said evenly, as though her mind +was quite placid again: +</p> +<p> +“There’s no parson at Hoskins, either.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_15'></a>15</span> +</p> +<p> +He darted her another side-glance. How was +she taking it? Was she, after all, going to be +“sensible?” Nell was seventeen, but a woman +grown. +</p> +<p> +“Shucks, honey,” Dick said, putting out a hand +to touch her for the first time. “We’ll ride on and +find a parson later. We’re in no rush. We’re out +for a grand, good time—” +</p> +<p> +She pulled her horse across the path with a fierce +jerk of the bridle-rein, and so escaped the defilement +of his touch. Her right hand clutched the +handle of her quirt, the knuckles bone-white. +</p> +<p> +“Do you mean—you won’t marry me?” +</p> +<p> +Dick smiled his most disarming smile, his brown +eyes even twinkled. That frank and humorous look +was what had first won his advantage with Nell +Blossom. +</p> +<p> +“Shucks, honey,” he drawled again. “Why so +serious? Don’t worry about that. I’m free to confess +I’m not a marrying man. Seen too much +trouble for both parties when they are tied to one +another with any silly string of the law. It’s love +that will hold us together.” +</p> +<p> +“That’s heathen, Dick!” she exclaimed hotly. +“Just as heathen as Canyon Pass.” +</p> +<p> +“Nonsense!” He laughed. “You’re just as safe +with me, whether we’re married or not.” +</p> +<p> +Which might have been quite true, but Nell +stared at him, her expression as inscrutable as his +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_16'></a>16</span> +own when he worked behind the green table. Dick +the Devil was a shrewd gambler, but Nell Blossom +had played poker herself ever since she could read +the pips on the cards. And she had been fighting +her own battles in harsh environment and against +men almost from the same tender age. Her cold +rage now sprang from the fact that he should so +mistake her character. +</p> +<p> +“Come on, honey!” he said coaxingly. +</p> +<p> +The quirt came up slowly; then it sang through +the air. +</p> +<p> +“You dog, you! Dick the Devil is your true +name! And I thought—” +</p> +<p> +The man, shouting an oath, dragged his mount +backward. The lash descended, missed his handsome +face, but seared the horse across its neck. +</p> +<p> +Squealing, the animal leaped to one side—to the +verge of the out-thrust lip of the Overhang. The +gambler wheeled him again, seeking to save himself. +</p> +<p> +“Do you want to murder me—you wildcat!” he +cried angrily. +</p> +<p> +There was a sudden crack, like the slapping of +one board upon another. Between the plunging +horse and the girl a gap yawned in the earth. +Frost, the early rains, or perhaps time itself, had +weakened this bit of the Overhang. A patch no +larger than a good-sized dining table broke away +and slid outward. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_17'></a>17</span> +</p> +<p> +The scrambling, wild-eyed horse and the shrieking, +white-faced man disappeared with it. The girl +held in her own mount with a firm hand. The flare +of insane anger faded from her blue eyes. But her +countenance settled into a harsh and unlovely +expression. +</p> +<p> +Yet she slipped down from her saddle, quieted +her horse with a word, and stepped recklessly to +the crumbling edge, trying to see down the face of +the cliff. +</p> +<p> +She could mark no trace of horse or rider. She +could no longer hear the rumble of the falling +débris. An icy horror gripped her. He was gone! +</p> +<p> +Finally she drew back from the brink. She looked +about at the landscape, but there was not a human +being to be seen. She slowly mounted her horse +again. +</p> +<p> +Something besides a terrible disaster had happened +here at the brink of the Overhang. Something +had happened to Nell Blossom so great, so +soul-racking, that she would never be altogether +the same girl again. It is a dreadful thing for one +so young to find its love-idol shattered. +</p> +<p> +After a little Nell started her mount, but she did +not ride back toward Canyon Pass. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_18'></a>18</span><a name='chII' id='chII'></a>CHAPTER II—DISCONTENT AT DITSON CORNERS</h2> +<p> +The Reverend Willett Ford Hunt read twice +these closing words of the long letter. +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +... and so, my dear Willie, to use your own way of +expressing it, I am steering straight for the devil—and +enjoying the trip immensely. +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +Wishing you were with me, Willie, I am, even after +your rather bitter castigation, +</p> +<p style='text-align:right; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; margin-right:2em;;'>Sincerely your friend,</p> +<p style='text-align:right; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; margin-right:2em;;'><span class='sc'>Joe Hurley</span>.</p> +<p> +He laid the missive on his desk with a full-bosomed +sigh. Nor was that sigh wholly because +of the reprobate Joe. Joe’s flowers of speech did +not much ruffle the parson’s spirit. +</p> +<p> +Joe Hurley might be gay, irresponsible, reckless, +even downright wicked; but he never could fail to +be kind. Two years of close contact with the blithe +Westerner—those final two years at college before +Hunt went to the divinity school—had assured the +latter that Joe Hurley owned a heart of gold. The +gold might be tarnished, but it was true metal +nevertheless. +</p> +<p> +Hunt’s mental picture of his college friend, and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_19'></a>19</span> +never had scholastic friendship been more astounding, +could not include any great blemish of later-developed +character. It was five years since they +had seen each other. Those five years could not +have made of Joe Hurley the “roughneck” that he +intimated he had become. That was Joe’s penchant +for painting with a wide brush. +</p> +<p> +The reputation the Westerner had left behind him +at college when he was requested by a horrified +governing board to depart for the sake of the general +welfare of the undergraduate body, revealed +Joe’s character unequivocally. +</p> +<p> +When Joe had been “bounced” by the faculty he +had celebrated the occasion by giving a farewell +banquet at one of the shadiest hotels in the college +town, to the wildest crowd of students he could get +together. On his own part Joe had dressed in full +cowboy regalia, and as the apex of the evening’s +entertainment he had “shot up” the banquet room, +paying the bill for damages the next morning with +a cheerful smile. +</p> +<p> +The Reverend Willett Ford Hunt remembered +the occasion now with a little shiver of apprehension. +Suppose the people of Ditson Corners should +ever learn that he, their pastor, had been one of +that company who had helped Joe Hurley celebrate +his dismissal from scholastic halls! +</p> +<p> +Joe’s father, a cattleman, had left him a considerable +fortune. Joe had invested much of it in a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_20'></a>20</span> +certain mining claim called the Great Hope, for the +young fellow had been keen enough to see that the +day of the small cattleman was gone. The mine +was paying a comfortable income with the promise +of doing more than that in the future, so Joe wrote. +But he wrote more—much more that was exceedingly +interesting to Hunt in his present discontented +state of mind. +</p> +<p> +He picked up the letter again to re-read a part +of the third page, this broken sentence first meeting +his envious eye: +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +... and if ever there was a peach, she surely is one, +Willie. Golden-brown hair, big blue eyes, and a voice—Say! +No songbird ever had anything on Nell. If you +once saw her and heard her sing, you’d go crazy about +her, old sobersides. All Canyon Pass—I mean the men-folks—are +at her feet again, now she has returned to +town and is singing in Colorado Brown’s cabaret. Sounds +sort of devilish and horrid, doesn’t it, Willie? Believe me, +Nell Blossom is some girl. But wild—say! You can’t +get near her. She’s got a laugh that plays the deuce with +a man’s heart strings—accelerates the pit-a-pat of the +cardiac nerve to top-notch and then some! She’s got us +all on her string, from gray-bearded sour doughs to the +half-grown grocery clerk at the Three Star, who would +commit suicide to-morrow at her behest—believe me! +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +But no man, Willie, has seemed yet to put the come +hither on Nell Blossom. She just won’t be led, coaxed, or +driven. She’s as hard as molded glass. A man-hater, if +ever you heard of one. With all your famed powers of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_21'></a>21</span> +persuasion, reverend, I’d like to make a wager that you +couldn’t mold our Nell into a pattern of the New England +virtues, such as your own prim little sister has become +by this time, I’ve no doubt. No insult to Miss Betty +intended, Willie. But our Nell—well, you’d have your +hands full in trying to make her do a thing that she did +not want to do. +</p> +<p> +The Reverend Willett Ford Hunt was stung here, +not by the good-natured raillery aimed at his own +traits of character by his old college mate. But +why had Joe gone out of his way to drag Betty’s +name into it? It seemed to be a mild slur upon his +sister’s character, and Hunt had an uneasy feeling +that he ought to resent it. +</p> +<p> +Betty had met Joe Hurley but once—to Hunt’s +knowledge. It was an occasion when she had +stopped at the college town on her way home from +boarding school. Hunt had met her at the station, +and Joe had shown up, too. The three of them had +sought a restaurant where they ate, and Betty had +chattered like—well, just as a girl of her age and +fresh from the excitement of boarding school would +chatter. When her first fear of the big Westerner +had worn off she had usurped the conversation +almost completely. Hunt had often thought since +that Joe Hurley was quite attracted by his lively +sister. +</p> +<p> +But how did Joe know that Betty had changed so? +</p> +<p> +That his sister was not the same cheerful, brisk, +chatterbox of a girl she had been when Joe met +her, Hunt quite well knew. And the change puzzled +him. +</p> +<p> +He visualized their Aunt Prudence Mason, who +had lived all her long life in the rut of New England +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_22'></a>22</span> +spinsterhood, molding more or less the characters +of the orphaned brother and sister left at an +early age to her sole care. Was Betty, here in +the straitened environment of Ditson Corners, +doomed to jog along the well-beaten track Aunt +Prudence had followed? The brother shuddered as +he thought of it. +</p> +<p> +He glanced at Joe’s letter once more. A golden-haired, +blue-eyed girl who really sang—not shrieked +as did Miss Pelter whose top notes in the church +choir rasped Hunt’s nerves like a cross-cut saw +dragged through a pine knot. +</p> +<p> +There was always a quarrel of some kind in that +choir—the bickerings and heart-burnings of his +volunteer church choir were perennial. +</p> +<p> +Then, there was the feud over the Ditson pew—which +branch of the influential Ditson family should +hold the chief seats in the church. Hunt could not +satisfy everybody. There was still a clique, even +after his two years’ pastorate, who let it be frankly +known that they had desired to call Bardell, instead +of him, to the pulpit of the First Church. +</p> +<p> +These continued faultfindings and disputes were +getting on Hunt’s nerves. And they must be affecting +Betty—influencing her more than he had heretofore +considered. +</p> +<p> +This letter from Joe Hurley had come at a moment +when Hunt was desperately and completely +out of tune with his environment. He had brought +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_23'></a>23</span> +to his first pastorate a modicum of enthusiasm +which, during the first year, had expanded into an +earnest and purposeful determination to do his duty +as he saw it and to carry his congregation in spirit +to the heights he would achieve. +</p> +<p> +He—and they—had risen to a certain apex of +spiritual experience through the first months of his +earnest endeavor, and then the cogs had begun to +slip. Suddenly Willett Ford Hunt’s castles toppled +and collapsed about him. He found himself, half +stunned, wholly mazed, wallowing in the débris of +his first church row, the renewed war over the Ditson +pew. +</p> +<p> +Hunt had extricated himself from this cataclysm +with difficulty, almost like a man lifting himself +off the earth by his bootstraps. The Ditson feud +was by no means at an end even now, and it never +would be ended as long as two Ditsons of different +branches of the family remained alive. Hunt had +sought to renew his own and his congregation’s +spiritual life. It was then and not until then that he +discovered the fire was out. +</p> +<p> +Oh, for a church where one might preach as one +pleased, so long as one followed the spiritual instincts +aroused by right living and a true desire to +help one’s fellow men! That is what Hunt said he +longed for. +</p> +<p> +But actually what he longed for is what perhaps +we all long for whether we know it or not—appreciation. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_24'></a>24</span> +Not fulsome praise, not a mawkishly sentimental +fawning flattery. He desired to feel that +the understanding heart of the community apprehended +what he wished to do and respected his +effort though he might fall short of the goal. +</p> +<p> +There seemed to be no heart—understanding or +otherwise—in Ditson Corners. Why! A wild +Western mining camp, such as Joe said Canyon +Pass was, could be no more ungrateful a soil to +cultivate than this case-hardened, hide-bound, self-centered +and utterly uncharitable Berkshire community. +</p> +<p> +The thought—not even audibly expressed—nevertheless +shocked Hunt. +</p> +<p> +Hunt reached for the letter again. What had +Joe said about there being a field for religious endeavor +in Canyon Pass? It was along in the first +part of the screed, and when he had found it he +read: +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +Joshing aside, Willie, I believe you might dig down to +the very heart of Canyon Pass—and I believe it has a +heart. You were such a devil of a fellow for getting at +the tap-root of a subject. If anybody can electrify the +moral fiber of Canyon Pass—as some of them say I have +the business part—it will be a man like you. You could +do the “Lazarus, arise!” stunt if anybody could—make +the composite moral man of Canyon Pass get up, put on +a boiled shirt, and go forth a decent citizen. And believe +me, the composite figure of the moral man here sadly +needs such an awakening. +</p> +<p> +There was something that gripped Hunt in the +rough and ready diction of this letter—something +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_25'></a>25</span> +that aroused his imagination. It brought to his +mind, too, a picture of Joe himself—a picture of +both his physical and his mental proportions. +</p> +<p> +The Reverend Willett Ford Hunt was no pigmy +himself, nor did he lack courage and vigor. He was +good to look upon, dark without being sallow, +crowned with a thick brush of dull black hair—there +were some brown lights in it—possessing good +features, keen gray eyes, broad shoulders, a hundred +and eighty pounds of gristle and flesh on a perfect +bony structure, and could look over a six-barred +gate before he vaulted it. He had not allowed his +spiritual experiences, neither rising nor falling, to +interfere with his gymnastics or his daily walk. +</p> +<p> +But Joe Hurley topped Hunt by two inches, was +broader, hardier, a wholly out-of-door man. Joe +was typically of the West and the wilderness. He +knew the open places and the tall timber, the mountains +and the canyons, the boisterous waters of cascade +and rock-hemmed river. He was such an entirely +different being from Hunt that the latter had +often wondered why the Westerner had made such +a chum and confidant of him during those two years +at college. +</p> +<p> +And now the pastor of Ditson Corners’ First +Church realized that Joe Hurley had something +that he wanted. He wished he was with Joe, out +there in that raw country. He felt that he could get +nearer to mankind out there and perhaps—he said +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_26'></a>26</span> +it reverently—nearer to the God he humbly desired +to serve. He thought of Betty. +</p> +<p> +“She needs a change as much as I do. How does +Joe guess that she is becoming exactly a prim, repressed, +narrow-thinking woman, and a Martha +cumbered by many cares? She needs her chance +as much as I need mine.” +</p> +<p> +He heard Betty’s step on the porch, and in a +moment she entered the study, her hands full of +those grateful mid-spring flowers, the lily of the +valley. +</p> +<p> +Betty Hunt was not a fragile girl, but she did +not possess much of that embonpoint the Greeks +considered so necessary to beauty of figure. Nor +was she angular. At least, her grace of carriage +and credibly tailored frock masked any lack of flesh. +</p> +<p> +Slim hands she had, too,—beautiful hands, very +white and with only a faint tracery of blue veins +upon them. Really, they were a musician’s hands—pliable, +light of touch, but strong. The deftness +with which they arranged the flowers suggested that +she did not need vision to aid in the task. +</p> +<p> +Therefore she kept her gaze on Hunt. He felt +it, turned, and smiled up at her. He shook the leaves +of the letter in his hand. +</p> +<p> +“Bet,” he said, “I’ve got another letter from Joe +Hurley.” +</p> +<p> +Betty’s countenance changed in a flash. +</p> +<p> +“Oh! That Westerner?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_27'></a>27</span> +</p> +<p> +There was more than disapproval in her tone. +She looked away from him quickly. Her own gray +eyes filmed. A shocked, almost terrified expression +seemed to stiffen all her face. But Hunt did not +see this. +</p> +<p> +“There is no use talking, Bet,” her brother pursued +in an argumentative way, thoughtfully staring +at the letter again. “There is no use talking. Joe +has it right. We are vegetating here. Most people +in towns like this, here in the East, might honestly +be classified among the <em>flora</em> rather than the <em>fauna</em>. +We’re like rows of cabbages in a kitchen garden.” +</p> +<p> +“Why, Ford!” +</p> +<p> +He grinned up at her—a suddenly recalled +grimace of his boyhood. +</p> +<p> +“There speaks the cabbage, Bet! We’re all alike—or +most of us are. Here in the old Commonwealth +I mean. We’re afraid to step aside from +the rutted path, to accept a new idea; really afraid +to be and live out each his own individuality. +</p> +<p> +“Ah! Out in this place Joe writes about——” +</p> +<p> +He fingered the sheets of the letter again. She +watched with the slow fading of all animation from +her face—just as though a veil were drawn across +it by invisible fingers. Her expression was not so +much one of disapproval—her eyes held something +entirely different in their depths. Was it fear? +</p> +<p> +“This Canyon Pass is a real field for a man’s +efforts,” burst out Hunt with sudden exasperation. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_28'></a>28</span> +“I tell you, Bet, I feel as though my usefulness here +had evaporated. I haven’t a thing in common with +these people. Carping criticism and little else confronts +me whichever way I turn.” +</p> +<p> +“You—you are nervous, Ford.” +</p> +<p> +“Nerves! What right has a man like me with +nerves?” he demanded hotly. +</p> +<p> +“But, Ford—your work here?” +</p> +<p> +“Is a failure. Oh, yes. I can see better than you +do, Bet—more clearly—that I have lost my grip on +these people.” +</p> +<p> +“Surely there are other churches in the East that +would welcome a man of your talents.” +</p> +<p> +“Aye! Another little hard-baked community in +which I shall find exactly the elements that have +made my pastorate here a failure.” +</p> +<p> +“You are not a failure!” she cried loyally. +</p> +<p> +“That’s nice of you, Bet. You are a mighty +good sister. But I am letting you in for a share +of the very difficulties that would soon put gray in +my hair and a stone in my bosom instead of a +heart.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Ford!” +</p> +<p> +“Out there—in some place like this Joe writes +about—would be a new and unplowed field. A +place where a man could develop—grow, not vegetate.” +</p> +<p> +“But—but must it necessarily be the West, Ford? +I am not fond of the West.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_29'></a>29</span> +</p> +<p> +“You’ve never seen it.” +</p> +<p> +“I’m not fond of Western people.” +</p> +<p> +He looked at her with a dawning smile. “You’re +afraid of them, Bet.” +</p> +<p> +“Yes. I am afraid of them,” whispered his sister, +turning her face away from his gaze. “They +are not our kind, Ford.” +</p> +<p> +“That’s exactly it,” he cried, smiting the desk +with the flat of his palm. “We need to get out +into the world, among people who are just as different +from ‘our kind,’ as you term them, as possible. +There we can expand. Out in Canyon Pass. I +believe I could be a real help to that community. +What is it Joe says?” He glanced again at the +letter before him. “Yes! I might dig down to +the very heart of Canyon Pass. Ditson Corners has +merely a pumping station to circulate the blood of +the community, patterned after the one at the reservoir +on Knob Hill.” +</p> +<p> +She did not speak again. When Hunt looked +around she had stolen from the room. +</p> +<p> +“Poor Bet!” he muttered. “The idea of change +alarms her as it might have alarmed Aunt Prudence. +Joe Hurley is right—he’s right beyond a doubt!” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_30'></a>30</span><a name='chIII' id='chIII'></a>CHAPTER III—A SHADOW THROWN BEFORE</h2> +<p> +A rider had his choice in journeying to Canyon +Pass from a southerly direction—say from Lamberton, +which lies between the railroad and the desert—of +following the river trail to be deafened by the +boisterous voice of the flood, or of climbing to the +high lands and there jogging along the wagon track +which finally dipped down the steeps to the ford of +the West Fork and so into the mining town. +</p> +<p> +Spring was drifting into the background of the +year. The cottonwood leaves were the size of squirrel +ears. The new fronds of the piñon had expanded +to full size and now their needles quivered in the +heat of the almost summer-like day. Joe Hurley, +sitting his heavy-haunched bay, giving as easily to +the animal’s paces as a sack of meal, followed the +wagon track rather than the river trail and so came +to that fork where wheel-ruts from a westerly direction +joined the road along the brink of the canyon +wall. +</p> +<p> +A cream-colored pony came cantering along the +trail from Hoskins, its rider as gaily dressed as a +Mexican vaquero—a splotch of color against the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_31'></a>31</span> +background of the evergreens almost startling to his +vision. But it was the identity of this rider that +invigorated the tone of the mining man’s reflections. +</p> +<p> +“Nell Blossom! The only sure-enough cure for +ophthalmia! Am I going to have the pleasure of +being your escort back to Canyon Pass? It will sure +do me proud. The Passonians are honing for you, +Nell.” +</p> +<p> +“I’m going back to the Pass—yes, Mr. Hurley,” +she said, pulling down her pony to the more sedate +pace of his big bay. +</p> +<p> +“Where you been since you left us all in the +lurch? There was almost a riot at the Grub Stake +when Tolley found out you had gone.” +</p> +<p> +“Boss Tolley hasn’t got anything on me,” she said +defensively. “I’d never sing there again, anyway.” +</p> +<p> +“Somebody said you’d lit out for the desert with +Steve Siebert and Andy McCann,” and he chuckled. +“They started the same day you vamoosed.” +</p> +<p> +“I might just as well have gone with those old +desert rats. Pocket hunting couldn’t be much +worse than Hoskins.” +</p> +<p> +“Great saltpeter! What took you to Hoskins?” +exclaimed Hurley. “Where’s your local pride? If +you weren’t born at Canyon Pass, you’ve lived there +most of your life. You shouldn’t encourage a dump +like Hoskins to believe for a moment that it has +greater attractions than the Pass.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_32'></a>32</span> +</p> +<p> +“If I thought it might be more attractive, I +learned better,” she said shortly. +</p> +<p> +“Mother Tubbs got a letter from you, but she +wouldn’t tell us where you were.” +</p> +<p> +“No,” Nell said. “I didn’t want the boys riding +over there and starting a roughhouse at the Tin Can +Saloon.” +</p> +<p> +“Great saltpeter!” exclaimed Hurley again. +“You don’t mean to say you been caroling your +roundelays in <em>that</em> place?” +</p> +<p> +“A girl has to work somewhere, and I was sick +to death of the Grub Stake.” +</p> +<p> +“Boss Tolley is no pleasant citizen and his joint +is no sweet-scented garden spot, I admit,” Hurley +agreed. “Personally I’d like to see Tolley run out +of town and the Grub Stake eliminated. But Colorado +Brown has opened a new place and is going to +run it right—so he says.” +</p> +<p> +“That’s what is bringing me back,” Nell confessed. +“He got word to me by Mother Tubbs, and +he made me a better offer than Tolley ever would. +But I expect one cabaret is about like another in +these roughneck towns.” +</p> +<p> +“I don’t know about that,” the man said defensively. +“We mean to try to clean up Canyon Pass. +The boys have got to have amusement. Colorado +Brown is a white man, and, if he gets the backing +of the better element, he can give a good show and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_33'></a>33</span> +sell better hootch and better grub than ever Boss +Tolley dared to.” +</p> +<p> +“Hootch is hootch,” Nell interrupted. “It’s all +bad. There’s nothing good about a rotten egg, Mr. +Hurley. And the men’s money is wasted in all +those places—plumb wasted!” +</p> +<p> +He had been watching her closely as they talked. +He had been watching Nell closely, off and on, for +several years. Like many of the other young and +unattached men of Canyon Pass, Joe Hurley had +at one time attempted to storm the fortress of Nell +Blossom’s heart. Finally he had become convinced +that the girl was not for him. +</p> +<p> +Joe Hurley neither wore his heart on his sleeve +nor was he unwise enough to anger Nell by forcing +his attentions beyond that barrier she had raised +between them. His were merely the objections of +any clean-minded man when he had seen her yielding +to the machinations of Dick the Devil. Joe knew +the gambler’s kind. +</p> +<p> +He had felt no little anxiety when, with the usual +spring exodus of the two old desert rats, Steve +Siebert and Andy McCann, Nell and Dick Beckworth +had likewise disappeared from the Grub +Stake. Dick, of course, had settled with Boss +Tolley; he intimated that he was starting north for +the railroad at Crescent City. The hour had been +so early that nobody else had chanced to see the +gambler and the girl ride away. Nell was missed +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_34'></a>34</span> +later, and all the right thinking men of the town, +although they said little, feared the worst for Nell +Blossom. +</p> +<p> +Nell had displayed at the last some little interest +in Dick the Devil. The other girls at the Grub +Stake gossiped about it. +</p> +<p> +Then came Mother Tubbs with a bona-fide letter +from the girl to dam the flood of gossip. Nell was +working as usual in a cabaret. She had left Boss +Tolley because she could not stand him any longer. +She was bitter about the Grub Stake and its proprietor. +And not a word in the letter about Dick +Beckworth. It was plain, even to the most suspicious, +that Dick had not gone with her after all. +</p> +<p> +These few facts colored Joe Hurley’s thoughts as +they rode along the track. What colored Nell’s? +</p> +<p> +When the sprightly talk lapsed between them, the +girl’s face fell into unhappy lines. She who had +been as blithe as a field lark all her life was showing +to Joe Hurley for the first time a most unnatural +soberness of spirit. Her eyes, their gaze fixed +straight ahead, were filmed with remoteness that +his friendly glance could not penetrate. +</p> +<p> +Something had changed Nell Blossom. She was +no longer the happy-go-lucky girl she had been +heretofore. He wondered if, after all, her affair +with Dick Beckworth was serious. +</p> +<p> +They skirted the Overhang, their horses now at +a canter. Nell suddenly pulled in her mount at a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_35'></a>35</span> +place where a patch along the brink of the treacherous +cap had recently crumbled. +</p> +<p> +“Looks as if there might have been a small slide,” +observed Hurley cheerfully. +</p> +<p> +“Was—was anybody hurt?” +</p> +<p> +“Reckon not. Just about where the big slide +was years ago. There are always bits dropping +down this cliff. I tell ’em there’s bound to be another +landslip some time that will play hob with +Runaway River and maybe flood out the town +again. It’s like living over a volcano.” +</p> +<p> +Nell still looked back at the broken edge of the +cliff. “Nobody missing, then? Nobody—er—left +town?” +</p> +<p> +He laughed. “Nobody but you and old Steve and +Andy McCann. Those old desert rats lit out the +same morning you left town. Hold on! I don’t +know as you know it; but Dick Beckworth went +about that time. He’s gone to Denver, so Tolley +says, to deal faro at a big place there.” +</p> +<p> +He could not see the girl’s face. As far as he +knew the statement made no impression upon her. +They jogged on practically in silence until they +came to the point where the wagon-track plunged +steeply to the ford of the West Fork, and from +which spot the squalid town was first visible. +</p> +<p> +“Ugh!” Nell shuddered and glanced at Joe +again. “It is such an ugly place.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_36'></a>36</span> +</p> +<p> +“Where’s your civic pride, Nell?” and the other +chuckled. +</p> +<p> +“What is there to be proud of?” was her sharp +demand. +</p> +<p> +“It’s a money-making town.” +</p> +<p> +“Money!” +</p> +<p> +“Quite a necessary evil, that same money,” he +rejoined. “Gold is a good foundation to build a +town upon. Canyon Pass has ‘got a future in front +of it,’ as the feller said. Business is booming. Bank +deposits are increasing. Three families have bought +piano-players, and there are at least a dozen talking +machines in town—besides the female citizens,” and +he laughed again. +</p> +<p> +“All that?” in a sneering tone. “Still, the bulk +of the wages from the mines and washings are +spent for drink and in gambling. The increase in +bank deposits I bet are made by the merchants and +honkytonk keepers, Mr. Hurley. Canyon Pass is +prosperous—yes. But at the expense of everything +decent and everybody’s decency. Mother Tubbs has +got it right. Canyon Pass hasn’t got a heart.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh—heart!” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, heart. There’s neither law nor gospel, she +says. Only such law as is enforced at the muzzle +of the sheriff’s gun. And as far as religion goes—when +was there ever a parson in Canyon Pass?” +</p> +<p> +“They’re rare birds, I admit. But you needn’t +blame me, Nell.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_37'></a>37</span> +</p> +<p> +“I do blame you!” she exclaimed fiercely. “You’re +at fault—you, and Slickpenny Norris who runs the +bank, and Bill Judson of the Three Star, and the +manager of the Oreode Company, and the other +more influential men. It is your fault that there +isn’t a church and other civilized things in Canyon +Pass.” +</p> +<p> +“Great saltpeter, Nell! You’re not wailing for a +Sunday School and a sky pilot?” +</p> +<p> +“Me? I reckon not!” She almost spat out the +scornful denial. “I’m just telling you what your +old Canyon Pass is. It’s a back number. But I’m +free to confess if a parson and a crew of psalm-singing +tenderfoots came here, I’d like enough pull +my freight again—and that time for keeps! Even +Hoskins would be more endurable.” +</p> +<p> +At this outburst Joe Hurley broke into laughter. +Nell Blossom was paradoxical—had always been. +</p> +<p> +And yet, what Nell had said about the shortcomings +of Canyon Pass stuck in Joe Hurley’s mind. +Within a few days the thought, fermenting within +him, resulted in that letter which had so interested—not +to say excited—the Reverend Willett Ford +Hunt in far-away Ditson Corners. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_38'></a>38</span><a name='chIV' id='chIV'></a>CHAPTER IV—PHILOSOPHY BOUND IN HOMESPUN</h2> +<p> +“No, there ain’t no news—no news a-tall,” +declared Mrs. Sam Tubbs, comfortably rocking. +“Nothing ever happens in Canyon Pass. For a +right busy town on its main street, there’s less happens +in the back alleys than in any camp I ever seen—and +I seen a-plenty. +</p> +<p> +“It’s in the back alleys o’ life, Nell, that the interesting +things happen. Folks buy and sell, and +argue and scheme, and otherwise play the fool out +on the main streets. But in the alleys babies is +born, and people die, and boys and gals make love +and marry. Them’s the re’lly interesting things in +life.” +</p> +<p> +“Ugh! Love and marriage! They are the biggest +fool things the world knows anything about.” +</p> +<p> +Mother Tubbs chuckled. It was an unctuous +chuckle. It shook her great body like a violent +explosion in a jelly-bag and made the wide-armed +rocking-chair she sat in creak. +</p> +<p> +“Sho!” she said. “I’ve heard seventeen-year-old +gals say as much ’fore now, who dandled their +second young-un on their knee ’fore they was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_39'></a>39</span> +twenty. The things we’re least sure of in this +world is love and marriage. Lightning ain’t nothin’ +to ’em—nothin’! +</p> +<p> +“Now, there’s Mr. Joe Hurley——” +</p> +<p> +Nell started, turned on the top step of the Tubbs’ +back porch, and looked searchingly at the old woman +with a frown on her brow. +</p> +<p> +“Now, there’s Mr. Joe Hurley,” pursued Mother +Tubbs placidly. “There ain’t a thing the matter +with that man but that he needs a wife.” +</p> +<p> +“Why doesn’t he take one, then?” demanded Nell +wickedly. “There are plenty of them around here +whose husbands don’t seem to care anything about +them.” +</p> +<p> +“Like me and my Sam, heh?” put forth Mother +Tubbs, still amused. “But I reckon if Mr. Joe +Hurley, or any other man, should attempt to run +away with me, Sam would go gunning for him. +What they call the ‘first law of Nater’—which is the +sense of possession, not self-preservation—would +probably get to working in Sam’s mind. +</p> +<p> +“He’d get to thinking of my flapjacks and +chicken-with-fixin’s and his bile would rise ’gainst the +man—no matter who—who was enjoying them victuals. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, yes. Not only is the way to a man’s heart +through his stomach; but believe me, Nell, most +men are like those people the Bible speaks of ‘whose +god is their stomach.’” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_40'></a>40</span> +</p> +<p> +“Does the Bible say that, Mother Tubbs?” broke +in the girl. +</p> +<p> +“Somethin’ near to it.” +</p> +<p> +“Then there is some sense in the Bible, isn’t +there?” +</p> +<p> +“Hush-er-you, Nell Blossom!” ejaculated the old +woman sternly. “Does seem awful that you’re +such a heathen. The Bible’s plumb full of good +advice, and lovely stories, and sweet truths. I used +to read it a lot before I broke my specs. But I +remember lots that I read, thanks be.” +</p> +<p> +“I don’t care for stories,” said the girl crossly. +“And I don’t know that I believe there is a heaven,” +she went on quickly. “Once you are dead I reckon +that’s all there is to it. I won’t learn any more +songs about heaven. I used to cry over them—and +about folks dying. I remember the first song Dad +taught me to sing in the saloons. It used to make +me cry when I came to the verse: +</p> +<p> + Last night as I lay on my pillow—<br /> + Last night as I lay on my bed—<br /> + Last night as I lay on my pillow,<br /> + I dreamt that my Bonnie was dead.<br /> + Bring back! Oh, bring back!<br /> + Bring back my Bonnie to me, to me——<br /> +</p> +<p> +It’s all stuff and nonsense!” she broke off with +confidence. +</p> +<p> +“That ain’t a hymn,” said Mother Tubbs placidly. +“Hymns is different, Nell. A good, uplifting hymn +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_41'></a>41</span> +like ‘Am I a Soldier of the Cross,’ or ‘Beulah Land,’ +takes you right out of yourself—bears your heart +up on wings o’ hope and helps you forget you’re +only a poor, miserable worm——” +</p> +<p> +“I’m not a worm!” interrupted Nell with vigor. +“I’m as good as anybody—as good as anybody in +Canyon Pass, anyway, even if some of these women +do look down on me.” +</p> +<p> +“Of course you are, Nell. ‘Worm’ is just a +manner o’ speaking.” +</p> +<p> +“Dad trained me to sing in these saloons, I +know,” went on the girl quickly, angrily, “because +he was too weakly to use a pick and shovel. We +had to eat, and he thought he had to have drink. +So I had to earn it. But I’ve been a good girl.” +</p> +<p> +“I never doubted it, Nell,” Mother Tubbs hastened +to say. “Nobody could doubt it that knowed +you as well as I do.” She let her gaze wander over +the squalid back yards of the row of shacks of +which the Tubbs’ domicile was no better than its +neighbors. “They don’t know you like I do, Nell. +You’ve lived with me for three years—all the time +you was growing into a woman, as ye might say. +You hafter do what you do, and I don’t ’low when +we are forced into a job, no matter what it is, that +it’s counted against us as a sin.” +</p> +<p> +Nell flashed the placid old woman another glance. +There was something hidden behind that look—of +late there was something secretive in all Nell +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_42'></a>42</span> +Blossom said or did. Did Mother Tubbs understand +that this was so? Was she, in her rude but kindly +way, offering a sympathy that she feared to put +into audible speech for fear of offending the proud +girl? +</p> +<p> +The latter suddenly laughed, but it was not the +songbird’s note her voice expressed. There was +something harsh—something scornful—in it. +</p> +<p> +“I reckon I could get away with murder, and +you’d say I was all right, Mother Tubbs,” she declared. +</p> +<p> +“Well, mebbe,” the old woman admitted, her eyes +twinkling. +</p> +<p> +“Suppose—” said Nell slowly, her face turned +away again, “suppose a party was the cause of another’s +death—even if he deserved it—but didn’t +mean just that—suppose, anyway, what you did +caused a man’s death, for whatever reason, although +unintended? Would it be a sin, Mother Tubbs?” +</p> +<p> +She might have been reflecting upon a quite casual +supposition for all her tone and manner betrayed. +Just how wise Mother Tubbs was—just how far-seeing—no +human soul could know. The old +woman had seen much and learned much during her +long journey through a very rough and wicked +world. +</p> +<p> +“I tell you, Nell,” Mother Tubbs observed, “it’s +all according to what’s in our hearts, I reckon. If +what we done caused a party to die, and we had +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_43'></a>43</span> +death in our heart when we done the thing that +killed him, I reckon it would be a sin. No getting +around that. For we can’t take God’s duties into +our hands and punish even the wickedest man with +death—like we’d crunch a black beetle under our +bootsole. ‘Vengeance is Mine; I will repay, saith +the Lord.’” She repeated the phrase with reverence. +“No, sin is sin. And because a party deserves +to be killed, in our opinion, don’t excuse our +killing him.” +</p> +<p> +Nell was quite still for a minute. Then she +shrugged her shoulders. +</p> +<p> +“Humph!” she said briskly. “I don’t think much +of your religion, Mother Tubbs. No, I don’t.” +</p> +<p> +Mother Tubbs began to croon: +</p> +<p> + It’s the old-style religion,<br /> + The old-style religion,<br /> + The old-style religion,<br /> + That gets you on your way.<br /> + ’Twas good enough for Moses,<br /> + Good enough for Moses—<br /> + The old-style religion,<br /> + That gets you on your way.<br /> +</p> +<p> +“It ain’t no new-fangled religion, Nell. But it’s +comforting——” +</p> +<p> +“It wouldn’t comfort me none,” answered the +girl. “I reckon it ain’t religion—and a sky pilot—that +Canyon Pass needs after all. If we’d just run +about fifty of these tramps out of town—and Boss +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_44'></a>44</span> +Tolley and his gang—we could get along without +psalm-singing and such flubdubbery.” +</p> +<p> +“You ain’t talking like you used to, Nell,” said +the old woman, observing her curiously. +</p> +<p> +“I hadn’t thought so much about it. Religion is +too soft. These roughnecks would ride right over +a parson and—and that kind. Now, wouldn’t +they?” +</p> +<p> +“Not altogether. I expect they’d try—at first. +But if a man had enough grace in him, he’d stand up +against ’em.” +</p> +<p> +“He’d better have backbone.” +</p> +<p> +“Same thing,” chuckled Mother Tubbs. “Same +thing. It takes the grace of God to stiffen a man’s +backbone—I tell you true. I hope this parson Mr. +Joe Hurley talks about has got plenty of grace.” +</p> +<p> +“Who—what?” gasped the girl. “What parson?” +</p> +<p> +“Well, now! That is a gob o’ news. But I +thought you must o’ heard it—over to Colorado +Brown’s, or somewhere—the way you was talkin’. +This parson is a friend of Mr. Joe Hurley, and he +wants to get him out yere.” +</p> +<p> +“From the East?” +</p> +<p> +“Yeppy. Mr. Joe says he went to school with +him. And he’s some preacher.” +</p> +<p> +“What do you think o’ that!” ejaculated Nell. +“Mr. Hurley didn’t say anything to me about it the +day we rode into the Pass together.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_45'></a>45</span> +</p> +<p> +“I reckon not. This has all been hatched up since +then.” +</p> +<p> +“But, Mother Tubbs!” cried the girl. “You don’t +expect any tenderfoot parson can come in here and +make over Canyon Pass?” +</p> +<p> +“I reckon not. We folks have got to make ourselves +over. But we need a leader—we need a +Shower of the Way. We’ve lost our eyesight—the +best of us—when it comes to seeing God’s ways. +My soul! I couldn’t even raise a prayer in conference +meeting no more. But I used to go reg’lar +when I was a gal—played the melodeon—led the +singin’—and often got down on my knees in public +and raised a prayer.” +</p> +<p> +“Humph!” scoffed the girl. “If God answered +prayer, I bet you prayed over Sam enough to have +cured him of getting drunk forty times over!” +</p> +<p> +“I don’t know—I don’t know,” returned Mother +Tubbs thoughtfully. “I been thinking lately that, +mebbe when I was praying to God to save Sam from +his sins, I was cursing Sam for his meanness! I +ain’t got as sweet a disposition as I might have, +Nell.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, yes you have, Mother Tubbs!” exclaimed +Nell, and suddenly jumped up to kiss the old woman +warmly. “You’re a dear, sweet old thing!” +</p> +<p> +“Well, now,” rejoined Mother Tubbs complacently, +“I ought to purr like any old tabby-cat for +that.” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_46'></a>46</span><a name='chV' id='chV'></a>CHAPTER V—HOW THE PASSONIANS TOOK IT</h2> +<p> +“Well,” observed Bill Judson oracularly, “it’s +about time for something new to break in Canyon +Pass. About once in so often even a dead-an’-alive +camp like this yere has got to feel the bump of +progress from the train behind. Otherwise we’d +stay stalled till Gabriel’s trump.” +</p> +<p> +He spoke to Smithy, his single clerk at the Three +Star Grocery. He had to speak to Smithy, or to +the circumambient air, for nobody but the gangling +clerk was within hearing. They lounged on the +store porch in the middle of the afternoon, and the +only other thing alive on the main street of Canyon +Pass was a wandering burro browsing on the tufts +of grass edging the shallow gutters. +</p> +<p> +“I don’t see as Canyon Pass has got to be +bumped by a gospel sharp to wake it up,” complained +Smithy, stretching his arms as though they were +elastic. “Yahhoo! Well, he’ll have a sweet time +here, Mr. Judson.” +</p> +<p> +“I dunno,” said the storekeeper reflectively. +“For my part I feel like I favored it.” +</p> +<p> +“’Cause it’s something new?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_47'></a>47</span> +</p> +<p> +“’Cause it’s something needed. I ain’t one of +those fellers that run after every new thing just +because it is new. But I’m for progress. I want +to see the Pass get ahead. Crescent City and +Lamberton have both got churches and parsons.” +</p> +<p> +“And they’ve got railroads,” put in Smithy, +making a good point. “Canyon Pass needs the railroad +more’n it does a parson.” +</p> +<p> +“Son,” proclaimed Judson, “before Canyon Pass +can get a railroad connection, mountains have got +to be moved and the meanest stretch of desert that +ever spawned lizards, sidewinders and cacti, and +produce in their places about five hundred square +mile of irrigated farmland to pay for spiking the +rails to the sleepers. See?” +</p> +<p> +“Well, the farms might come,” declared Smithy +defensively. +</p> +<p> +“Sure. So might Christmas come at Fourth o’ +July. But we ain’t never celebrated the two holidays +together yet. No, sir. To irrigate the edge +of that desert even, a dam would have to be built +across the southern outlet of the canyon, and that +would back the water up yere in freshet season till +the roof of my shack would be so deep under the +surface that about all I could properly keep in stock +would be perch and rainbow trout. +</p> +<p> +“They ain’t building branch railroads no more +to mining camps like Canyon Pass. That’s why we +all chipped in for the stamp mill and the cyanide +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_48'></a>48</span> +plant. Nope. We’ll freight in our supplies with +mules and communicate with the more effete centers +of civilization by stagecoach for some time to +come I reckon. +</p> +<p> +“That being the case we got to uplift ourselves +without the help of the iron horse, as the feller said. +And having a church and a parson is uplifting.” +</p> +<p> +“Nobody ain’t talked very brash about a church.” +</p> +<p> +“Parson comes first. Naturally. Of course this +friend of Joe Hurley is only coming on a visit at +first.” +</p> +<p> +“He’ll have a sweet visit here,” repeated Smithy. +</p> +<p> +“That’s according,” said Judson. “We got to be +hospitable. If a judge, or a senator, or a school +teacher, or even a drummer sellin’ fishin’ tackle, +came yere we’d feel like we wanted to show him +the town’s best side. Why not this parson?” +</p> +<p> +“Huh! A drummer don’t try to convert us +and innovate psalm-singing and such,” grumbled +Smithy. +</p> +<p> +“Son,” drawled Judson, his eyes twinkling under +his bushy brows, “you’re convicted of sin right now. +You’re scare’t of this parson—and that’s the +trouble with most of you fellers who are raising a +yawp against progress as represented by this +Reverend Hunt.” +</p> +<p> +“’Taint only us fellers,” grumbled Smithy. +“Some of the womenfolk ain’t pleased. Say! Nell +says she don’t want no black-coated parson in this +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_49'></a>49</span> +camp. Says it would give her the willies, so she +couldn’t sing.” +</p> +<p> +It was an indisputable fact—Joe Hurley himself +had discovered it—that the Passonians were divided +upon the matter of the expected coming of the +Reverend Willett Ford Hunt. The sheep and the +goats that had heretofore milled together in a general +herd, were dividing upon strictly religious lines. +Joe was somewhat surprised. Some of the very +people he had presumed would welcome the innovation, +were suspicious of it. +</p> +<p> +Mr. Robertson Norris, “Slickpenny” Norris was +his undignified appellation, became quite red of face +and beat rather a futile fist upon the banking counter +as he gave his opinion to Joe Hurley. Norris was +a puny-looking, string-bean sort of man. The height +of rage could not have made his appearance impressive. +</p> +<p> +“Joe Hurley, you are a director of this bank, and +your last statement of the Great Hope shows that +you are a good mining man. I find on most subjects +you display good sense. But on this question +you’re all wrong—all wrong!” +</p> +<p> +“I don’t get you—I don’t get you at all,” drawled +Hurley. “A moral man like you, Norris, I reckoned +would welcome the idea of having a parson in the +town.” +</p> +<p> +“I have no quarrel with parsons—none at all, +Joe,” declared the banker. “But Canyon Pass is in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_50'></a>50</span> +no present shape—financially, I mean—to contemplate +the building of a church edifice. A church is +something you can’t tax, and it brings in absolutely +no revenue to the town. It’s not an asset, but a +liability, and the Pass can’t afford any such luxuries +at this time.” +</p> +<p> +“Great saltpeter!” +</p> +<p> +“Listen to me, Joe Hurley! I’ve advocated +proper town improvements, even when they take +the skin off my own nose, and always will. I am +strong for Main Street being paved and sidewalks +laid, though ’twould cost me a pretty penny. We +ought to set out trees. Them oil lamps on wooden +posts are a disgrace. I’d make every merchant paint +the front of his buildings on Main Street once a +year, by law.” +</p> +<p> +“Well! What’s the matter with a church?” demanded +Hurley. “That is, if we get that far.” +</p> +<p> +“It’s absolutely no use. If one is built it won’t +be nothing but a shack. It won’t add anything to +the importance of the town. No, I don’t approve. +I’m disappointed in you, Joe.” +</p> +<p> +“All right—all right!” cried Joe in some heat. +“But I’m not disappointed in you, old-timer. Great +saltpeter! I wonder what you did before you +drifted into Canyon Pass that a parson and religion +are likely to bring fresh into your memory.” +</p> +<p> +With this backhand slap at the banker, the young +man went out. It was rather odd that Joe Hurley, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_51'></a>51</span> +like Bill Judson, should suspect the Passonians of +the same secret reason for not desiring a spiritual +refreshment of the town. But then, both the storekeeper +and the owner of the Great Hope were observant +of human nature and knew Canyon Pass +and its inhabitants very well. +</p> +<p> +Joe Hurley’s proposal was rattling the dry bones. +If he saw two men conversing on the street, with +both their arms and whiskers waving in the breeze, +he might be sure the topic under discussion was the +coming of “that gospel-sharp Joe Hurley’s sicked +on to us.” +</p> +<p> +If two housewives met in midflight between store +and store in the course of a forenoon’s shopping, the +principal subject of gossip was bound to be the +possibility of a parson settling in Canyon Pass. +Nor did the feminine opinion always march with +that of Mother Tubbs. +</p> +<p> +In spite of the emancipation of the sex and its +introduction to the high office of the ballot, the +women of the mining town were—like women +everywhere—considerably influenced by the expressed +opinions of their husbands, brothers, and +sons. If Charlie Raidlaw, who dealt faro for Boss +Tolley, or Phin Shattuck, one of Colorado Brown’s +“gentlemanly mixers,” gave it as his opinion that a +white-liveried, lily-handed parson was going to be +a pest in the town and sure to hurt business, Mrs. +Charlie and Sue Shattuck, Phin’s sister, were pretty +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_52'></a>52</span> +sure to scout the idea that a parson in the Pass +would be any improvement. +</p> +<p> +“It’s needed,” Rosabell Pickett announced with +conviction. Rosabell played the piano in the Grub +Stake, painted her face like a Piute Indian, dressed +as gaudily as a circus poster, and was the only employee +Boss Tolley had who really was not afraid +of him. In fact, Rosabell was not afraid of any +man and had small respect for most; she was frank +in saying so. A girl can be a piano player in a +honkytonk and be long on self-respect. Rosabell +approved of herself—quite. +</p> +<p> +“It’s needed,” repeated Rosabell. “I wish he’d +preach in the street out there, just stir up the people +till they was with him, every one, and then march +in here with an ax and smash every hootch bottle +behind your bar, Tolley—that’s what I wish.” +</p> +<p> +“You’re crazy, Rosie!” cried the proprietor of the +Grub Stake. “I’d hafter go a-gunnin’ for any man +that tried to smash up my business thataway, and +that wouldn’t make the Grub Stake friends. You +oughtn’t to bite the hand that feeds you, Rosie. If +it wasn’t for the Grub Stake—and me—you +wouldn’t be wearin’ rhinestone shoebuckles.” +</p> +<p> +“Is that so?” countered the young woman. “You +needn’t worry none about my biting your hand +’nless you keep it washed oftener than is your present +habit. And I want you to know that I don’t sell +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_53'></a>53</span> +my opinions when I take the Grub Stake’s pay-envelope—not +much!” +</p> +<p> +“Well, I wanter see that dratted parson come in +yere!” said Tolley blusteringly. +</p> +<p> +“He won’t come alone,” put in Hurley, who had +been listening at the bar to the argument. +</p> +<p> +“Huh?” +</p> +<p> +“I say he won’t come in here alone. I might as +well serve notice here and now that this Parson +Hunt is a friend of mine. I don’t never aim to +throw a friend down or fail him when he gets into +a jam. If he comes in here—for any purpose, +Tolley—I’ll likely be with him.” +</p> +<p> +“You keep him out o’ yere! You keep him out!” +blustered the other. “We don’t want no sky pilots +here in the Pass. Anyway, I won’t have ’em in the +Grub Stake.” +</p> +<p> +A burly fellow in overalls and riding boots broke +in. He had already sampled Tolley’s red-eye more +deeply than was wise. +</p> +<p> +“You say the word, boss,” he growled, “and we’ll +run the preacher out o’ town.” +</p> +<p> +Joe Hurley looked at the ruffian coldly. “You +won’t run anybody out of town, Hicks—not any,” +the mine owner said. “But I’ll tell you something +that may be worth your attention. If Canyon Pass +ever gets up on its hind legs and reares and starts +to run certain tramps and ne’er-do-wells out of +town, I’m ready to lay a bet with any man that +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_54'></a>54</span> +you’ll be right up in the forefront of them that are +chased out. Get me?” +</p> +<p> +Hicks, scowling, dropped his hand to the gunbutt +peeping above the waistband of his overalls. Joe +Hurley did not flicker an eyelash nor move a finger. +Finally Hicks lurched away with an oath and went +out through the swinging doors. +</p> +<p> +“And that’s that,” said Rosabell briskly, cutting +the tense chord of silence. “I always did say the +more of a boozer a man is, the quicker he’ll take +water. I hope your friend Mr. Hunt, Joe, has got +backbone same as you have. Is he an old gentleman?” +</p> +<p> +“Not so you’d notice it,” replied Hurley with a +sudden grin. +</p> +<p> +He remained awhile to bandy repartee with Rosabell +and some of the other idlers. But Boss Tolley +slipped out of the honkytonk, although he did not +follow Hicks. +</p> +<p> +Mulligan Lane ran at the rear of the stores, saloons, +and other amusement places facing this side +of Main Street. Colorado Brown’s cabaret was not +far from Tolley’s rear door. It was dusk of rather +a sultry day—a day that had forecast the heat of the +approaching summer. +</p> +<p> +Tolley lounged under the withered cottonwood +behind Brown’s dance-pavilion. The sign of the +flood’s highwater mark—that flood of twenty years +before—had been cut by some idle knifeblade deep +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_55'></a>55</span> +into the bole of the tree high over Tolley’s head, +and he was a tall man. A sallow-faced, bony giant +of a man was Tolley, hairy and brawny, without a +redeeming feature in his cruel countenance. Had +he not possessed, in the memorable words of Bill +Judson, “a wishbone where his backbone should +have been,” Boss Tolley would have been a very +dangerous man. Lacking personal courage he depended +upon the backing of men like Hicks and his +bouncer, Macpherson. +</p> +<p> +He slouched now under the tree and waited—a +sullen lump of a figure whose dark garments +blended with the shadowy trunk as the night fell. +The small figure coming up the slope of the lane +approached the back door of Colorado Brown’s +place without seeing the man until almost within +arm’s length. +</p> +<p> +“Hey, Nell!” She started, looked up, stepped +back a pace. “Don’t be scare’t of me.” +</p> +<p> +“Don’t flatter yourself, Tolley,” replied the girl +curtly. +</p> +<p> +“I want to speak with you.” +</p> +<p> +“I don’t want to speak to you.” +</p> +<p> +“Say—listen! You ain’t treating me right. You +walked out and left me flat. You didn’t even ask +me for a raise. How’d you know I wouldn’t give +you as much as Brown does?” +</p> +<p> +“I didn’t want to know. I got through. You +didn’t have any hold on me, Tolley.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_56'></a>56</span> +</p> +<p> +“Mebbe not. Mebbe I have. You better listen,” +for the girl was turning scornfully away. “You +and Dick played it low down on me.” +</p> +<p> +Now she gave him her full attention. It was so +dark under the tree that he could not see her face +clearly, but he knew some sudden emotion shook +her. To himself he grinned. +</p> +<p> +“I got to admit my losing you and Dick has put +a crimp in the Grub Stake’s business. You was +my best performer, and Dick Beckworth was the +best card-sharp I had. Looker here! You come +back to the Grub Stake and—and I won’t say nothing +more.” +</p> +<p> +“What do you mean?” She had almost instantly +gained control of herself. “You can say all you +like. I am never going to sing in your joint again.” +</p> +<p> +“You ain’t?” +</p> +<p> +“No.” +</p> +<p> +“You better think again.” His voice was grim, +menacing. “I can say something you won’t like to +hear.” +</p> +<p> +“Say it.” She spat the command out as boldly +as was her usual speech; but in her heart sudden +fear fluttered like a netted bird. +</p> +<p> +“I been tellin’ them Dick Beckworth lit out for +Crescent City, and that I heard later he was dealing +’em in Denver.” +</p> +<p> +“Dick Beckworth?” gasped the girl. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_57'></a>57</span> +</p> +<p> +“Yeppy. I told ’em that. But I know derned +well he didn’t ride north that day——” +</p> +<p> +“Why do you speak to me of Dick Beckworth?” +</p> +<p> +She tried to say it boldly, calmly. She stared at +him in the dusk, her figure tense. He could see +her blue eyes gleam like twin sapphires. +</p> +<p> +“I’m telling you. Listen,” whispered Tolley +hoarsely. “I could show ’em the bones of Dick’s +hoss in the gravel below the Overhang—right at the +edge of Runaway River. I got his saddle right now +in my big safe. What do you say to that?” +</p> +<p> +“Dick——” +</p> +<p> +“I reckon you know how the hoss and the saddle +went over the cliff. And Dick was with ’em. He +wasn’t with ’em when I raked out the saddle. Dick +had gone to some place a dern sight more distant +than Crescent City—nor yet Denver.” +</p> +<p> +She was silent. He could hear her quick, labored +breathing. Satisfaction fired all the mean soul of +the man. +</p> +<p> +“You think it over, Nell.” +</p> +<p> +He turned and lurched heavily away. The girl +stood rooted to the place, more shaken, more terrified, +than even Boss Tolley suspected. He was out +of sight before she gained strength to move. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_58'></a>58</span><a name='chVI' id='chVI'></a>CHAPTER VI—THE APPROACH</h2> +<p> +In fairylike traceries the tiny drops of a mist-like +rain embroidered the broad pane of the Pullman. +Betty Hunt gazed through this at the flying fields +and woods, the panorama of the railroad fences, and +the still nearer blur of telegraph poles with that +hopeless feeling a sentenced prisoner must have +as he journeys toward the prison pen. +</p> +<p> +Everything she cared for save her brother, everything +she knew and that was familiar to her daily +life, every object of her thought and interest, was +being left behind by the onrush of the train. Time, +with a big besom, was sweeping her quiet past into +the discard—she felt it, she knew it! They would +never go back to Ditson Corners again, or to Amberly +where they had lived as children with Aunt +Prudence or to any similar sanctuary. +</p> +<p> +That was what Betty had most longed for since +her last term at boarding school, which had ended +for her so abruptly with the death of her Aunt +Prudence Mason. Her last previous journey by +train had been that somber one to the funeral. +When Betty and her brother had later moved to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_59'></a>59</span> +the Ditson Corners’ parsonage they had done so +by motor. +</p> +<p> +The drumming of the wheels over the rail-joints +kept time with the swiftly flying thoughts of the +girl. She lay in the corner of the broad, tan plush +seat like a crumpled flower that had been carelessly +flung there. Thoughts of that last train journey +seared her mind in hot flashes, as summer lightnings +play about the horizon at dusk. +</p> +<p> +First one thing, then another, she glimpsed—mere +jottings of the happenings that had gone +before the hurried good-byes at school and the anxious +trip homeward. These remembrances now were +like the projection of a broken film upon the moving +picture screen. +</p> +<p> +And those trying, anxious weeks which followed +the funeral while Ford was completing his divinity +course and received his ordination and which came +to an end with his selection as pastor of the First +Church at Ditson Corners! All through these +weeks was the dull, miserable pain of disillusion and +horror that Betty must keep to herself. She could +not tell Ford. She could tell nobody. What had +happened during the last few weeks at school was +a secret that must be buried—buried in her mind and +heart as deeply as Aunt Prudence was buried under +the flowering New England sod. +</p> +<p> +Betty, with her secret, was like a hurt animal +that hides away to die or recover of its wound as +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_60'></a>60</span> +nature may provide. She could not die. She knew +that, of course, from the first. Time, she felt, +would never erase the scar upon her soul; but the +wound itself must heal. +</p> +<p> +All that—that which was now such a horror in +her thought—she had hoped to bury deeper as time +passed. She had devoted herself to her brother’s +needs. She had made his comfort her constant care. +Busy mind and busy hands were her salvation from +the gnawing regret for that secret happening that +she believed must wither all her life. +</p> +<p> +Now this sudden and unlooked for change had +come to shake up all her fragile plans like the shifting +of a kaleidoscope. They were going West, +toward the land she hated, toward people whom, +she told herself, she had every reason to suspect +and fear. Why had Ford kept up his correspondence +with that Joe Hurley? Betty did not blame +her brother for wishing to get away from Ditson +Corners. But why need it have been that Westerner +who offered the soul-sore minister the refuge that +he so gladly accepted? +</p> +<p> +Betty, without a clear explanation, had no reason +to oppose to Hunt’s desire for a change that +would satisfy him. And such explanation she +would have died rather than have given him! She +was swept on toward the West, toward whatever +fate had in store for her, like a chip upon a current +that could not be stemmed. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_61'></a>61</span> +</p> +<p> +Aunt Prudence had left her money—conservatively +invested—to Betty; but she was not to touch +the principal until she was thirty. “If the girl +marries before that age, no shiftless man can get +it away from her,” had been the spinster’s frank +statement in her will. “If she is foolish enough to +marry after that age, it is to be hoped she will then +have sense at least regarding money matters.” The +brother had a small nest egg left from his father’s +estate after paying his college and divinity school +expenses. +</p> +<p> +So they were not wholly dependent upon Hunt’s +salary. He could afford to take a vacation, and it +was on this ground—the need of rest—that he had +resigned from the pulpit of Ditson Corners’ First +Church. They had left some really good friends +behind them in the little Berkshire town—some +who truly appreciated the young minister. But the +clique against him had shown its activity much too +promptly to salve Hunt’s pride. His resignation +had been accepted without question, and he had +remained only to see Bardell established in his +place. +</p> +<p> +Betty condemned herself that she could not enter +whole-heartedly into Hunt’s high expectations of +the new field that lay before him. It was adventure—high +adventure—to his mind. And why +should a parson not long for a bigger life and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_62'></a>62</span> +broader development as well as another healthy +man? +</p> +<p> +He was going to Canyon Pass without a penny +being guaranteed him. Joe Hurley urged him to +come; but he told him frankly that there would be +opposition. Certain Passonians would not welcome +a parson or the establishment of religious worship. +</p> +<p> +But this opposition was that of the enemy. The +Reverend Willett Ford Hunt was not afraid of the +devil in an open fight. Opposition in the church +itself was what had conquered him at Ditson Corners. +Let the phalanxes of wickedness confront him +at Canyon Pass, he would stand against them! +</p> +<p> +Betty saw him coming back down the aisle of the +car, smiling broadly, a handsome, muscular figure +of a man. He did not look the cleric. She had been +so used to seeing him in the black frock-coat and +immaculate white collar that she was at first rather +shocked when he had donned another suit to +travel in. +</p> +<p> +He was almost boyish looking. He was a big +man, and she believed him capable of big things. +She could almost wish he had selected some other +road in life—although that thought was shocking +to her, too. Ford might well have been a business +man, an engineer, a banker, a promoter. Betty’s +ideas were somewhat vague about business life; but +she felt sure Ford would have shone in any line. +She was a loyal sister. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_63'></a>63</span> +</p> +<p> +She shook herself out of the fog of her own +thoughts and smiled up at him. +</p> +<p> +“Met a man in the smoking room who knows +that country about Canyon Pass like a book, Bet,” +Hunt said, dropping down beside her. “It really is +a part of the last frontier. We shall always be a +pioneer people, we Americans. There is something +in the raw places of the earth that intrigues us all—save +the saps. And sap, even, hardens in such an +environment as this we are bound for.” +</p> +<p> +“I hope you will not be disappointed, Ford.” +</p> +<p> +“Disappointed? Of course I shall be disappointed +and heart-sick and soul-weary. But I +believe my efforts will not be narrowed and circumscribed +and bound down by formalism and +caste. As Joe says, I won’t be ‘throwed and hog-tied.’ +The old-time revivalists used to urge their +converts to ‘get liberty.’ I’ll get liberty out there, +I feel sure, in Canyon Pass.” +</p> +<p> +She could say nothing to dash his enthusiasm. +It was too late for that now, in any case. Betty +even tried to smile. But her face felt as stiff as +though it were like to crack in the process. +</p> +<p> +“All that territory of which Canyon Pass is the +heart,” pursued Hunt, “has been phenomenally rich +in ore in past time. They have to comb the mines +and sweep the hydraulic-washed benches very scientifically +now to make the game pay. Yet Canyon +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_64'></a>64</span> +Pass is distinctly a mining town and always +must be. +</p> +<p> +“My new acquaintance says it is really ‘wild and +woolly.’” He smiled more broadly. “I fancy it +is all Joe said it is. Crude, rude, roughneck—but +honest. If I can dig down to the honest heart of +Canyon Pass, Bet, I shall succeed. We’ll not worry +about first impressions, or the lack of super-civilized +conveniences, or the fact that men don’t +often shave, and the women wear their hair +untidily. Of course, I’ll make you as comfortable +as possible——” +</p> +<p> +“I can stand whatever you can, Ford,” she interrupted +with brisk conviction. +</p> +<p> +“Well,” with a sigh of relief, “that’s fine. Oh, +Bet! This is the life we’re going to. I am sure +you will be happier when you once get a taste of it.” +</p> +<p> +But she made no reply. +</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p> +When the two mountain-hogs, drawing and +pushing the trans-continental train up the grade, +ground to a brief stop at Crescent City, Betty Hunt +was surprised to see brick office buildings, street +cars, several taxi-cabs at the station, paved streets, +and the business bustle of a Western city which +always impresses the stranger with the idea that +the place is commercially much more important than +it actually is. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_65'></a>65</span> +</p> +<p> +“This—this cannot be Canyon Pass?” she stammered +to Hunt. +</p> +<p> +“No.” He laughed. “But here’s Joe Hurley—bless +him! Joe!” +</p> +<p> +He shouted it heartily before dropping off the car +step and turning to help Betty. But Joe Hurley +strode across the platform and playfully shouldered +the minister aside. +</p> +<p> +“Your servant, Miss Betty!” the Westerner +cried, sweeping off his broad-brimmed hat in a not +ungraceful bow. +</p> +<p> +The girl from the East floated off the step into +his arms. Joe set her as lightly as a thistle-down +upon the platform and somehow found her free +hand. +</p> +<p> +“When Willie, here, told me you would come with +him, Miss Betty, I promised the boys at the Great +Hope a holiday when you arrived. Great saltpeter!” +he added, stepping off to admire her from +her rippling, bistered hair to her silk stockinged +ankles. “You sure will make the boys sit up and +take notice!” +</p> +<p> +Here Hunt, having relieved himself of the hand-bags, +got hold of Hurley’s hand and began pumping. +The two young men looked into each other’s eyes +over that handclasp. They had little to say, but +much to feel. Betty sighed as she looked on. Her +last hope of quick escape from the West went with +that sigh. The handclasp and the look were like +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_66'></a>66</span> +an oath between the two young men to stand by +each other. +</p> +<p> +“Well, old sobersides!” said Joe. +</p> +<p> +“Same old Joe, aren’t you?” rejoined the minister. +</p> +<p> +“Come on. We’ll get your bags into a taxi and +go up to the hotel,” Hurley said briskly. “I got +rooms for you. We can’t go on to the Pass till +eight o’clock to-morrow morning.” +</p> +<p> +“Is there but one train a day, Mr. Hurley?” +Betty asked as he helped her into the cab. +</p> +<p> +“To Canyon Pass? Ain’t ever been one yet,” and +he chuckled. “We go over with Lizard Dan and +the mail. Some day, when the roads are fixed up, +we may get motor service. Until then, a six-mule +stagecoach has to serve.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh!” +</p> +<p> +Hunt’s eyes twinkled. “Break it to her gently, +Joe,” he advised. “Bet is prepared to be very much +shocked, I know. This frontier life is going to be +an eye-opener for her.” +</p> +<p> +“‘Frontier life!’” snorted Hurley. “Why, we’re +plumb civilized. Bill Judson has laid in a stock of +near-silk hosiery and shirts with pleated bosoms. +Wait till you see some of the boys in holiday rig. +Knock your eye out, when it comes to style.” +</p> +<p> +Betty smiled. She did not mind being laughed +at. Besides, the modern appearance of Crescent +City had somewhat relieved her apprehension. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_67'></a>67</span> +Even the hotel was not bad. Their rooms were +cheerful and clean, so she could excuse the brand-new, +shiny oak furniture and the garish brass beds. +</p> +<p> +She did not dislike Joe Hurley—not really. It +was only his influence over Ford that she observed +with a somewhat jealous eye. Although the mining +man seldom addressed her brother seriously, +she realized that he was fond of Ford. The latter +was much the stronger character of the two—she +was sure of that. He would never be overborne in +any essential thing by the lighter-minded Hurley. +But Ford admired the latter so much that Betty +felt her brother was likely to give heed to Hurley’s +advice in most matters connected with this new and +strange environment to which they had come. +</p> +<p> +“Bet is scared of the West and of you Westerners,” +Hunt said lightly. “I don’t know but what +she expected you to have sprouted horns since she +saw you before, Joe.” +</p> +<p> +“Shucks!” chuckled the other. “We’re mostly +born with ’em out here, Miss Betty. But they +de-horn us before they let us run loose out o’ the +branding pens. And remember, I spent two years +in the effete East.” +</p> +<p> +“It never touched you,” and Hunt laughed. +“You’re just as wild and woolly as ever.” +</p> +<p> +The girl noted that Hurley was thoughtful of +their every comfort. He showed them the best of +the town that day; but in the evening they rested +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_68'></a>68</span> +at the hotel and talked. The two men conversed +while they smoked in Hunt’s room, with the door +opened into Betty’s. She heard the murmur of +their voices as she sat by her darkened window and +looked out into the electrically lighted main street +of Crescent City. +</p> +<p> +She was not at all thrilled by the novelty of the +situation. She was only troubled. +</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p> +Those strangers passing by! She saw a face in +the throng but seldom as the street lights flickered +upon it. And always she was fearfully expectant +of seeing—What? Whom? She shuddered. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_69'></a>69</span><a name='chVII' id='chVII'></a>CHAPTER VII—THE FIRST TRICK</h2> +<p> +The high-springed stagecoach lurched drunkenly +over the trail that wound through a valley Betty +thought gnomes might have hewn out when the +world was young. Barren, riven rock, gaunt, stunted +trees, painted cliffs hazed by distance, all added +to a prospect that fell far short in the Eastern girl’s +opinion of being picturesque. +</p> +<p> +Rather, it was just what her brother had termed +this Western country—raw. Betty did not like any +rude thing. She shrank instinctively from anything +crude and unfinished. +</p> +<p> +The three—herself, her brother, and Joe Hurley—occupied +the seat on the roof of the plunging +coach just behind the driver. “Lizard Dan” was +an uncouth individual both in speech and appearance. +He was bewhiskered, overalled, wore broken +boots and an enormous slouched hat, and his hands +were so grimy that Betty shuddered at them, although +they so skillfully handled the reins over the +backs of six frisky driving-mules. +</p> +<p> +Lizard Dan, Hurley told the Easterners, had +gained his nickname when he was a pocket-hunter in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_70'></a>70</span> +a now far-distant day. He had been lost in the +desert at one time and swore when he came out +that he had existed by eating <em>Crotaphytus Wislizeni</em> +roasted over a fire of dry cacti—the succulence of +which saurian is much doubted by the Western +white man, although it is a small brother of the +South American iguana, there considered a delicacy. +</p> +<p> +However, Dan acquired a nickname and such a +fear of the desert thereby that he became the one +known specimen of the completely cured desert rat. +He never went prospecting again, but instead drove +the stage between Crescent City and Canyon Pass. +</p> +<p> +“The boys expecting us at the Pass to-day, Dan?” +Joe Hurley had asked early in the journey. +</p> +<p> +“Youbetcha!” +</p> +<p> +“Got your gun loaded?” +</p> +<p> +Dan kicked the heavy double-barreled shotgun at +his feet and replied again: +</p> +<p> +“Youbetcha!” +</p> +<p> +“Do—do wild animals infest the road?” Betty +had asked stammeringly. +</p> +<p> +“Not much,” said Hurley. “But Dan carries a +heap of registered mail in which wild men, rather +than wild animals, might be interested.” +</p> +<p> +“Youbetcha!” agreed Dan. +</p> +<p> +Hurley glanced sideways at Betty’s face, caught +its expression, and exploded into laughter. +</p> +<p> +“You’ve come to ‘Youbetcha Land,’ Miss Betty,” +he said, when he could speak again. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_71'></a>71</span> +</p> +<p> +“He is a character,” chuckled Hunt on her other +side. +</p> +<p> +The suggestion of highwaymen stuck in the girl’s +mind. She looked from Lizard Dan’s weapon to +the ivory butt of the heavy revolver pouched at +Joe Hurley’s waist. These weapons could not +be worn exactly for show—an exhibition of the +vanity of rather uncouth minds. It fretted her +though without frightening her, this phase of Western +life. It was not the possibility of gun-fights and +brawls and the offices of Judge Lynch that made +Betty Hunt shrink from contact with this country +and its people. +</p> +<p> +The stagecoach mounted out of the valley—which +might, Hunt said, have been fittingly described by +Ezekiel—and followed a winding trail through the +minor range of hills that divided Crescent City +and its purlieus from the Canyon Pass country. The +coach pitched and rocked as though it was a sea-going +hack. +</p> +<p> +In time they crossed the small divide and came +down the watershed into the valley of the East Fork. +</p> +<p> +Borne to their ears on the breeze at last, through +the sound of the rumbling coach-wheels and the +rattling trace-chains, was another noise. A throbbing +rhythm of sound with the dull swish of intermittent +streams of water. +</p> +<p> +“The hydraulic pumps at the Eureka Washings,” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_72'></a>72</span> +explained Hurley. “We’ll be in sight of them—and +of Canyon Pass—before very long.” +</p> +<p> +The stagecoach lurched around a corner, and the +raw, red bench of the riverbank came into view. +Steam pumps were noisily at work and men were +busy at the sluices into which the gold-bearing earth +and gravel were washed down from the high bank. +</p> +<p> +Three great, brass-nozzled hydraulic “guns” were +at work—each machine straddled by a man in oil-skins +and hip boots, who manipulated the heavy +stream of water that ate into the bank and crumbled +it in sections. +</p> +<p> +At the moment of their sighting the hydraulic +washings across the river, there was raised a wild, +concerted shout from a point ahead. Out of a hidden +cove galloped a cavalcade of a dozen or more +mounted men, who swept up the road to meet the +coach. +</p> +<p> +For an instant Betty thought of the shotgun at +Dan’s feet and of highwaymen. These coming +riders waved guns and yelled like wild Indians. But +she saw a broad grin on Joe Hurley’s face. +</p> +<p> +“Here come some of the Great Hope boys,” he +explained. “Their idea of ‘welcome to our city’ +may be a little noisy, but they mean you well, Hunt.” +</p> +<p> +They came “a-shootin’,” and Lizard Dan threw +the long lash of his whip over the backs of his six +mules to force them through the cavalcade on the +gallop. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_73'></a>73</span> +</p> +<p> +Firing their guns and yelling, the riders on their +wiry ponies surrounding the coach as its escort, +pounded down to the ford. Their hullabaloo announced +far in advance the approach of the coach to +Canyon Pass. +</p> +<p> +In all its ugliness the mining camp was revealed. +The gaze of the Easterners was focused on its unpainted +shacks and rutted streets. They saw men, +women, children, and a multitude of dogs running +from all points toward the main thoroughfare +of the town. +</p> +<p> +It was like a picture—not like anything real. +Betty’s dazed mind could not accept this nightmare +of a place as actually being the town to which +fate—and her brother’s obstinacy—had brought +them. Given an opportunity right then, the girl +would have failed her brother! She was in a mood +to desert him and return East as fast as she could +travel. +</p> +<p> +Joe Hurley grinned at her. She had begun almost +to hate those twinkling brown eyes of his with the +golden sparks in them. He seemed to know just +what her feelings were and to enjoy her horror of +the crudity which assailed her on every hand. To +her mind, Hurley was worse than his associates, +for he had enjoyed the advantages of some culture. +</p> +<p> +The mules dashed into the shallows. Spray flew +as high as the roof of the coach. The mules settled +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_74'></a>74</span> +into a heavier pace as they dragged the vehicle up +the farther bank and into the foot of Main Street. +</p> +<p> +The crowd—a couple of hundred people of all +ages—had gathered before the Wild Rose Hotel. +This stood opposite the bank and farther along the +street than the Three Star Grocery and Boss Tolley’s +Grub Stake. The mules picked up their heels +again under the cracking of Lizard Dan’s whiplash, +and cantered up to the chief hostelry of Canyon +Pass. The yelling crew of horsemen—a bizarre +committee of welcome indeed—rode ahead, punctuating +their vociferous clamor by an occasional pistol-shot. +</p> +<p> +Betty caught sight of her brother’s face. It was +as broadly smiling as was that of Joe Hurley! Actually +Ford was enjoying this awful experience. +</p> +<p> +The moment Dan drew the mules to a halt, Hurley +was half way to the ground and turned on the +step to help Betty down. She glanced timidly at +Hunt again. He was preparing to descend on the +other side of the coach, leaving her entirely to +Hurley’s care. +</p> +<p> +Then occurred that incident which would ever be +engraved upon Betty’s memory, and which marked +indeed the coming of the Reverend Willett Ford +Hunt to Canyon Pass on the archives of the town’s +history in letters that never would be effaced. +</p> +<p> +As Hunt started to descend from the roof of the +coach there sounded a single pistol-shot and the hat +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_75'></a>75</span> +he wore—a low-crowned affair, the single mark of +the cleric in his dress—sailed into the air with a +ragged hole through brim and crown. +</p> +<p> +As the hat flew upward a fusillade of five more +shots followed the first, and the hat was torn to +rags as it sailed over the roof of the coach. The +crowd roared—some in anger, but most in derision. +The man standing by the door of the Grub Stake +reloaded his gun before putting it away, grinning +broadly. +</p> +<p> +Hunt was startled; but his own smile did not fade. +What was it Joe had impressed so emphatically upon +his mind? +</p> +<p> +“It’s the first impression that counts with Canyon +Pass folks. Give ’em the chance, and they’ll +laugh you out of town. And remember, they are +bound to judge you, Hunt, by their own standards.” +</p> +<p> +The young minister felt that the occasion was +momentous. His usefulness here in Canyon Pass +might depend upon his action or comment in this +emergency. +</p> +<p> +His nerves were perfectly steady. How was his +<em>nerve</em>? He knew the man who had shot the hat +from his head was such a good shot that he had +been in no danger at all. +</p> +<p> +But Hunt felt that something more was expected +of him than the mere ignoring of a rude and offensive +act. He started across the road toward the gunman. +Those who stood in the way opened a lane +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_76'></a>76</span> +for him with some alacrity. The smiles upon the +faces of those who moved stiffened. Something extraordinary, +something they had not at all expected, +was about to happen. +</p> +<p> +Hicks, slouching against the front of the Grub +Stake, came to sudden attention. His fingers +crooked, creeping toward the butt of his gun again. +Every atom of the ruffian’s courage—such as it was—lay +in that weapon. Without it—and its leaden +death—he was a sheep for bravery! +</p> +<p> +Smiling still Hunt reached him. The parson’s +steady gaze held that of Hicks as the human eye is +said to hypnotize the gaze of all wild beasts. Hicks, +however, was not wild. Not now. Not so you could +notice it! +</p> +<p> +“Brother,” Hunt said cheerfully, “you’ve spoiled +my hat. It’s the only hat I’ve got with me until my +trunks come in by freight. You’ve had your fun, +and it’s only fair you should pay for it.” +</p> +<p> +The expression of Hicks’ face sunk into a sneer. +He thought the white-livered parson was trying to +get money from him for the hat. He must indeed +be a “softie.” +</p> +<p> +Then Hunt’s hands moved suddenly, swiftly. In +a flash he had snatched the broad-brimmed hat from +Hicks’ head and placed it on his own, +</p> +<p> +“Turn about is fair play, don’t you think?” said +the parson, and without waiting for a reply he turned +on his heel and went back across the street! +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_77'></a>77</span> +</p> +<p> +The silence that had fallen on the crowd had +been of that tense, strained quality that portended +tragedy. Had Hunt showed offense at the trick +played upon him and struck Hicks, the latter would +have used his gun without mercy. And scarcely +could a jury have been impaneled in Canyon Pass +that would have convicted the ruffian. +</p> +<p> +But of a sudden, a roar of laughter rose from +the crowd. They rocked with it, beating their +knees, holding their sides, laughing with wide-open +mouths and streaming eyes. Nor was the comical +appearance of Hicks’ dilapidated hat crowning the +parson’s otherwise impeccable outfit all that spurred +Canyon Pass to such wild cachinnation. +</p> +<p> +The strident laughter was aimed at the chagrined +gunman. Hicks knew it. The broad back of the +parson offered a sure target; but he knew better +than to draw his gun a second time. Instead he +turned away, hatless, and sought sanctuary in the +Grub Stake. +</p> +<p> +Hunt had taken the first trick in this game he +had “set into.” And Canyon Pass to a man admired +a shrewd gambler. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_78'></a>78</span><a name='chVIII' id='chVIII'></a>CHAPTER VIII—A FLOWER IN THE MIRE</h2> +<p> +Had Betty Hunt not had Joe Hurley to steady her +as she came down from the roof of the stagecoach to +the ground in the midst of the crowd, she never +could have stood upright through that scene! The +sight of her brother’s hat flying overhead, the target +of Hicks’ six-gun, led her to believe that Hunt +was in peril—deadly peril. +</p> +<p> +She wanted to beg Hurley to run to her brother’s +rescue, but her tongue clove to the roof of her +mouth. What followed utterly appalled her. She +verily believed that Hunt took his life in his hands +when he approached and browbeat the bad man! +</p> +<p> +But as she heard the boisterous laughter of the +crowd and saw the strange hat flapping about the +Reverend Willett Ford Hunt’s ears, Betty became +suddenly angry. +</p> +<p> +“Take off that horrid hat, Ford!” she cried when +the parson joined them. “I beg of you, take it off at +once.” +</p> +<p> +“Don’t do it, Willie,” interposed Hurley. “Let +it be. No crown of glory you may earn will ever +so become you. Continue to wear it, Reverend, and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_79'></a>79</span> +not a soul in Canyon Pass will ever laugh at <em>you</em>, if +they do at the hat. It will remind ’em that you’re an +honest-to-goodness he-man.” +</p> +<p> +Hunt smiled deprecatingly. “You make too much +of it, Joe. Don’t worry, Betty, about the hat. I +might as well keep the joke up a little while.” +</p> +<p> +“‘Joke!’” she groaned. +</p> +<p> +Hurley slapped Hunt resoundingly on the shoulder. +“You’re all right, Willie!” +</p> +<p> +This turned Betty against him all the more. It +was so uncouth she thought on Hurley’s part and so +undignified on her brother’s. With all these people +looking on, grinning and gaping, was that the way +to gain respect for a clergyman and for his work? +</p> +<p> +“Well, let’s go into the Wild Rose and get you +settled,” Hurley said with that cordiality that did +much, after all, to disarm Betty’s criticism. “I told +‘Cholo’ Sam and Maria to clean up some rooms +for you and try and make things halfway decent. +But I don’t know. This isn’t like the hotel at +Crescent City.” +</p> +<p> +The statement was not conducive to Betty’s peace +of mind. The sordidness and squalor of Canyon +Pass was being from moment to moment etched +more deeply on her brain. They mounted the steps +of unplaned boards and crossed the porch that shook +even under Betty’s light tread. Unpainted walls, +uncarpeted stairs, and not altogether clean floors +met her gaze as they entered the hostelry. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_80'></a>80</span> +</p> +<p> +If Hunt was appalled by the rudeness of their +surroundings he very successfully hid his real feelings. +He had spent vacations in the hunting and +fishing camps of Maine and Quebec. The lack of +even the ordinary conveniences of civilized life +could not in any case trouble him as it did his gently +nurtured sister. +</p> +<p> +He did, however, on this first evening arrange to +have their supper served in Betty’s room, rather +than forcing her to eat in the general dining-room +of the hotel. But he explained that they could not +thus segregate themselves in the future. +</p> +<p> +“It wouldn’t do, Betty. I must mix with these +people—show myself willing to be one of them in +ordinary ways. Respect for the cloth cannot be +won among these open-hearted folk by finnicky +manners. I must be one of them. I must show +them that I am a man as well as a preacher.” +</p> +<p> +She could not agree; but at least she was wise +enough not to oppose—at this time—his evident +acceptance of Joe Hurley’s advice. She saw in the +latter more clearly than ever a dangerous ally for +her brother. +</p> +<p> +Hunt’s abundant cheerfulness—even over the +coarse supper-fare and the absence of napkins—closed +his sister’s lips even more firmly. The two +had come to Canyon Pass with diametrically opposed +mental attitudes. Hunt was prepared to accept +things as they should find them, but nothing in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_81'></a>81</span> +Canyon Pass, or about it or its inhabitants, could +please Betty. +</p> +<p> +As darkness fell the town grew noisier, for it was +a Saturday night. Betty, looking from her window, +saw only flaring oil lamps and gasoline torches illuminating +the street. The men who passed up and +down were much rougher in appearance and of +tongue than those she had watched under similar +circumstances in Crescent City. There were almost +no women in sight. +</p> +<p> +Men spoke harshly, or shouted ribaldries to one +another. Indeed, the girl from the East scarcely +understood the language they used. Miserably she +crept to bed. She had locked her door after her +brother left her, and she even dragged the pine +washstand against it as a barricade. +</p> +<p> +The Wild Rose Hotel itself was no quiet abode on +this night. There was a bar, and although it was +at the other end of the house, the noise of the +shouting, the rude songs, the stamping and quarreling +therein made Betty shake in her bed until long +after midnight. She had no idea that her brother +went to bed, fell asleep in a minute, and slept as +peacefully as a baby until almost sunrise. +</p> +<p> +A Sabbath dawn could be as calm at Canyon +Pass as at Ditson Corners. The pearl-gray light +of the new day washed the sleep from the Reverend +Willett Ford Hunt’s eyes. He arose to lean on his +elbow and gaze through a window that, curtainless, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_82'></a>82</span> +looked out on Mulligan Lane. There were some +frowsy buildings within sight—evidently dwellings +of a kind—but the parson lifted his eyes to the hills +feeling with the psalmist that “whence cometh my +strength.” +</p> +<p> +They stood—those hills—in serrated ranks from +the far east to the point where the sudden uplift of +the canyon wall on that side of the river closed the +outlook. Even Old Graylock of his familiar Berkshires +had not the magnificence of these peaks. He +was impressed again as he already had been with the +difference merely in size between these western hills +and the Berkshires, let alone the vast dissimilarity +in their contour. +</p> +<p> +The eminences of western Massachusetts for the +most part slope away into wooded and pastured +ridges, which themselves melt into the lush lowlands. +Their crowns do not seem so imposing as +these western peaks because of their configuration. +</p> +<p> +His window was open. Suddenly he became +aware of voices below it at the back of the hotel. +</p> +<p> +Something was going on there—something that +revealed the dregs of life to be as mean and offensive +here in Canyon Pass as they could be in any place +in the whole world. He heard the maundering tones +of an intoxicated man and—sharply contrasted—the +voice of a woman. +</p> +<p> +“Get up, Sam, and come home.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_83'></a>83</span> +</p> +<p> +“Hic! Won’t go home till mawnin’—till mawnin’—hic—doth +’pear.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, morning’s appearing all right, and it’ll +catch you here, wallerin’ like a hog in the lane. Come +home with me.” +</p> +<p> +“No. I’m a man. I’m—hic!—independent, I +am. I’ll go hu-hu-home jest whenever I please.” +</p> +<p> +“Now’s the time to please me, Sam. Get up and +come along.” +</p> +<p> +“Couldn’t do it, gal. Couldn’t think—hic!—of it. +’Twould be givin’ up my indepen—dic!—dence. I’m—I’m +my own master. Leastways, I am on Sunday +when the mine’s shut down. Here I stand——” +</p> +<p> +“But you don’t stand!” ejaculated the woman’s +voice sharply. “And I don’t believe you can.” +</p> +<p> +The inebriated man gave no heed to this challenge. +“Here I stand,” he repeated. “‘On Jordan’s +bank I take my stand, and cast a—hic!—cast +a wishtful eye’——” +</p> +<p> +“More’n likely you’ll cast a shoe and won’t get +home at all, if I can’t start you,” complained the +woman’s voice. +</p> +<p> +Hunt had risen and was scrambling into the more +necessary articles of his apparel. He went to the +window and looked down into the lane. +</p> +<p> +There was an overturned box just below the +window and slouched down upon it was a withered, +baldheaded man whose frayed whiskers and untrimmed +hair made him look a deal like an inebriated +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_84'></a>84</span> +monkey. There was nothing humorous looking in +this specimen of fallen humanity to the mind of the +parson. He could only pity his case. +</p> +<p> +But it must be confessed the other person engaged +in the colloquy gained Hunt’s interest and held it at +once. +</p> +<p> +She was small, lissome, of a vigorous figure and +vastly more attractive to his eye than any girl he +had ever looked at. Indeed, he was amazed to see +such a really beautiful creature in such squalid +surroundings. +</p> +<p> +“Get up and come home with me,” said the girl +again. “What will Mother Tubbs say when she sees +you?” +</p> +<p> +“Heh? I reckon I better stay yere,” was the reply. +“Man can’t keep his—hic!—dignity when a +great walrus of a woman throws him ’round like he +was a sack of spuds. I tell you, gal, I made a great +mistake in marryin’ that woman.” +</p> +<p> +“It was a great mistake for her—that’s a fact,” +was the sharp rejoinder. “You got so many failings +I don’t see how Mother Tubbs remembers ’em all +when she prays for you. Ugh! You men! There +ain’t a one of you I’d give a hoot in a rain-water +barrel for. Get up!” +</p> +<p> +The girl again tried to drag him to his feet. Sam +Tubbs merely fell over sideways and sprawled helpless +upon the ground. +</p> +<p> +Hunt, without his coat or vest, but grabbing up +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_85'></a>85</span> +the flap-brimmed hat he had secured from the gunman +the evening before, opened his door, ran down +the back stairway of the hotel, and made his way +quickly into the lane. As he appeared before Nell +Blossom, standing over the now slumbering drunkard, +he looked anything but the cleric. +</p> +<p> +“Can I be of help?” he asked. +</p> +<p> +“You can’t help me none, mister,” replied Nell +brusquely. +</p> +<p> +“I scarcely think you need help,” said Hunt, smiling. +“But this unfortunate——” +</p> +<p> +“‘Unfortunate’ is right!” repeated the girl. “Sam +Tubbs is so unfortunate that it would be money +right now in his pocket if he’d never been born. If +I leave him here some of those cheap hangers-on +of the Grub Stake or Colorado’s place will roll him +for all he has in his jeans. And Mother Tubbs +needs what he’s got left of his pay—believe me!” +</p> +<p> +“Where does he live?” +</p> +<p> +“Where I do. Down the lane a ways.” +</p> +<p> +“I think we can get him there,” said Hunt, and +without further ado he stooped, got a grip on Sam +Tubbs, and proceeded to throw him over his shoulder +like a sack of meal. +</p> +<p> +The girl’s eyes grew round. For the first time +she expressed some appreciation—perhaps a little +admiration—for his friendliness. +</p> +<p> +“You wasn’t behind the door when they were +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_86'></a>86</span> +passing out muscle,” she remarked. “Well, come +on. I’ll show you the way.” +</p> +<p> +The now slumbering Sam Tubbs was scarcely a +heavy burden, and to Hunt the task of carrying +him was slight. He was considerably amused as +well as interested in the girl. It was quite apparent +that she did not know he was the new parson. Evidently +she had not been in the crowd the day before +that had welcomed the coming of the tenderfoot +preacher and his sister to Canyon Pass. +</p> +<p> +Hunt was studying her face now with more than +amusement, although her bluff manner of speech +and utterly independent air made Nell Blossom a +revelation of a new phase of femininity to him. Her +speech, in the first place, did not accord with her +beauty, nor, indeed, with the natural refinement expressed +in her countenance. +</p> +<p> +She certainly was a lovely girl! In the early +morning light her light brown hair seemed threaded +all through the mass of it with strands of gold. +Her eyes were the blue of a mountain lake—but +with ice in their depths. Their gaze, as it was +turned on Hunt, was utterly impersonal. +</p> +<p> +Her peachy complexion as well, offset by dark +brows and red lips, aroused Hunt’s admiration for +its sheer beauty. Brown-gold hair, blue eyes, petite +and lissome figure—when had such description of a +girl caught in the cogs of his memory? Somewhere +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_87'></a>87</span> +lately he had seen, or heard described, such +a sprite of a girl as this. +</p> +<p> +She was dressed plainly enough in serviceable +corduroy—short skirt, blouse, broad-brimmed hat, +high laced boots. A crimson scarf was knotted under +the collar of her blouse. She wore no ornament. +</p> +<p> +Nell did not say much during that brief walk. +Not that she was at all timid or bashful; but she +seemed to feel no particular interest in this young +man who had put himself out to help Sam Tubbs. +</p> +<p> +For her own part she considered Sam a nuisance. +She had no use for the old reprobate. It was solely +for Mother Tubbs’ sake that she had bothered herself +with regard to Sam. Finding him drunk—as +usual—on her way home from Colorado Brown’s +place early on this Sunday morning, she had tried +to get him home without realizing at first that Sam +was quite so far gone in liquor as he was. +</p> +<p> +As for this man who walked by her side, carrying +so easily the insensible Sam, Nell did not question +who he was. That he was a stranger—possibly a +traveling salesman, or “drummer”—perhaps a mining +man, she believed, if she thought of him at all. +As Hunt suspected, she did not for a moment identify +him as the parson Joe Hurley had brought to +Canyon Pass. In any event she could not have imagined +the Reverend Willett Ford Hunt as this +sort of person. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_88'></a>88</span> +</p> +<p> +They turned abruptly into another narrow alley +and came to the front of the Tubbs’ shack. The +yard, fenced by pickets of barrel-staves, was neatly +kept and there was an attempt at a flower bed on +either side of the walk. Mother Tubbs usually +punished Sam for his sin of drunkenness, after he +had slept off his potations, by making him weed the +tiny gardens and rake the path. These penitential +activities kept the Tubbs premises spick and span. +</p> +<p> +Nell led the way imperturbably around to the back +door of the shack. This door was open and a thin +blue haze—odorous and appetizing—floated out of +the kitchen. +</p> +<p> +“Just getting a nice breakfast for you, honey,” +said Mother Tubbs, filling the doorway and seeing +Nell first of all. “Now, if only Sam would come +along—Is <em>that</em> Sam? He ain’t dead, is he?” +</p> +<p> +“Only dead drunk,” said Nell in scorn. +</p> +<p> +“Where shall I put him?” asked Hunt quietly. +</p> +<p> +“Well, I reckon it don’t much matter. You can +drop him down anywhere, mister. I’ll fetch a dish-pan +o’ water and sluice him down when I get a +chance. But I can’t let them cakes sp’ile.” Then she +saw and recognized the parson’s face, for Mother +Tubbs had been at the Wild Rose Hotel the day +before when the stagecoach had arrived. “Goodness +me! I declared, Mister—er—Brother Hunt, this <em>is</em> +good of ye.” +</p> +<p> +Nell stared. The note of respect in Mother +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_89'></a>89</span> +Tubbs’ voice revealed in a flash Hunt’s identity to +the cabaret singer. +</p> +<p> +“I am sartain sure obliged to you,” went on the +old woman. “Nell Blossom never could have got +him home alone.” Hunt had lowered her husband +to a seat on the porch floor and propped his back +against a post. “Sleeping like a baby, ain’t he? +Well, he can stay thataway till after Nell has her +breakfast.” +</p> +<p> +Hunt was not giving her his attention. The name +“Nell Blossom” had revealed to him instantly the +familiarity of the girl’s description. This was the +golden-haired, blue-eyed, high-spirited beauty Joe +Hurley had written about—the girl who could really +sing. +</p> +<p> +They stared at each other while the old woman +went back to her cakes. Nell was obviously shifting +the gears of her opinion about this stranger. +He, a parson? No lunger, this husky six-footer! +</p> +<p> +“Mebbe you ain’t acquainted,” Mother Tubbs +said, bustling back from the stove. “Nell Blossom is +a-living with me and has been doing so—off and +on—for more than three years. Ever since her pa, +old Henry Blossom, up and died. She’s a singer, +Nell is—the sweetest you ever heard, Brother Hunt. +I’m hoping, when you get to holding meetings, that +we can get her to sing in the choir.” +</p> +<p> +Hunt bowed, smiling, to the girl. Her expression +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_90'></a>90</span> +of countenance was no less forbidding than before. +She offered him no encouragement. +</p> +<p> +“Won’t you stop for breakfast with me and Nell, +Brother Hunt?” went on the hospitable old woman. +“I always try to have something hot and tasty for +Nell when she comes home after her night’s work.” +</p> +<p> +Nell started—was it angrily? She opened her lips +to speak, then shut them in a straight, red line. In +any case, Hunt caught the significance of her attitude +of objection, had he been tempted to accept +the old woman’s hearty invitation. +</p> +<p> +“Not this morning, Mrs.—er—Tubbs, is it? Sister +Tubbs? I am glad to have met you.” He met +her huge hand with a warm clasp of his own. +“When we get started here, I am sure I can depend +on your aid and good wishes?” +</p> +<p> +“Youbetcha!” exclaimed the old woman. “And +you’ll see me in one of the front seats—mebbe in +two of ’em if they ain’t bigger than usual,” she +added with twinkling eyes. +</p> +<p> +He laughed boyishly, lifting the dilapidated old +hat to both Mother Tubbs and the girl as he turned +the corner of the shack. The old woman looked +down admonishingly at Nell Blossom. +</p> +<p> +“You weren’t a mite perlite to the minister, Nell,” +she complained. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_91'></a>91</span><a name='chIX' id='chIX'></a>CHAPTER IX—A BEGINNING</h2> +<p> +That eastern mountain range was all etched with +rose color now as Hunt went back to the hotel. But +the town had scarcely quieted after its night’s +revelry. Inebriates were still dribbling along the +streets from the all-night places. +</p> +<p> +He thought of Nell Blossom. She certainly was +a flower in the mire of Canyon Pass. Joe Hurley +had written none too enthusiastically about the girl, +as far as concerned her beauty. And although Hunt +was by no means given to impulsive judgments, he +knew there was a refined atmosphere about the girl +despite her gruff independence of manner and +speech. +</p> +<p> +His return to the hotel was unheralded save by +the cheerful grin of Cholo Sam, the Mexican proprietor +of the hostelry, who was sluicing out the +barroom. +</p> +<p> +“Some morning, thees, Señor Hunt.” He flashed +a tentative, toothful smile toward the array of bottles +behind his bar. “Weel you have one leetle drink, +Señor? A ‘pick-my-up,’ you call eet, eh?” +</p> +<p> +“Coffee, Sam,” replied Hunt briskly, acknowledging +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_92'></a>92</span> +the offer in the spirit it was meant. “Coffee +only—and perhaps a bit of bread with it. Service +for two, please. My sister will want some. Will +you bring it up?” +</p> +<p> +“But surely, señor.” He hesitated. “Ees eet the +truth that the señor ees a meenister—the padre? +Si?” +</p> +<p> +“Quite true, Sam. That is my business—my +trade. And I have come here to Canyon Pass hoping +to exercise it.” +</p> +<p> +Hunt mounted to his room to find that Betty was +already astir. She had been into his room during +his absence. One of the bags he had brought upon +the stagecoach had been opened and across the foot +of the bed was carefully laid his ordinary Sunday +garments—frock-coat, high-cut waistcoat, and narrow +trousers of dead black sheen. +</p> +<p> +With the outer garments was the stiff-bosomed +white shirt—“boiled” Joe Hurley would have designated +its variety—the silk socks, with a pair of low, +gun-metal kid shoes set primly on the floor under +the edge of the bed. +</p> +<p> +Ford Hunt looked at all these once—then again. +He thought of what he had been doing already on +this Sunday morning. Then he burst into loud +laughter. +</p> +<p> +Sunday afternoon when the weather was propitious +was the time for social intercourse in Canyon +Pass. Those who had worked or played or had +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_93'></a>93</span> +been intoxicated the night before had slept off the +effects of their super-exertions for the most part. +They came forth now shaved and in clean garments +and strolled to Main Street. +</p> +<p> +It was still too early for the cabarets and gambling +places to be open, and even the saloon bars were +somnolent save for the flies buzzing about them or +drunkenly crawling in the spilled beer. The pivotal +point of the town’s rendezvous and gossip on Sunday +afternoon was the Three Star Grocery. In +front of that old Bill Judson held forth between his +exertions of waiting on such customers as might +claim his attention. +</p> +<p> +“Dad burn it!” ejaculated Judson. “I bet Tom +Hicks has crawled into his hole and pulled the hole +in after him. I should want to if I was him. And +you take it from me, boys, a parson that can do +that to a bad actor like Tom Hicks will make Canyon +Pass sit up and take notice before he’s through.” +</p> +<p> +“It showed sand, I allow,” agreed one of his hearers +judiciously. “But it’s r’iled Boss Tolley all up +and he swears the parson sha’n’t stay.” +</p> +<p> +“You don’t say!” drawled Judson sarcastically. +“And who ever elected Tolley to be boss of the Pass? +If for no other reason, I’m strong for this yere Reverend +Hunt.” +</p> +<p> +“As a man—a reg’lar he-man—I’m for him, too,” +agreed another. “But I’m thinkin’ we can get along +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_94'></a>94</span> +yere at Canyon Pass without much psalm-singing +and preaching.” +</p> +<p> +“Yeppy. You’re right,” declared a third of Judson’s +hearers. +</p> +<p> +“Let alone that you’re all wrong,” put in Judson +again with energy, “let’s look at the thing in a practical +way, as the feller said. If a man come in yere +and opened a shoe shop or a candy pop or wanted to +sell shoestrings, we’d give him the glad hand, +wouldn’t we? ‘Live and let live,’ has always been +the motto of Canyon Pass, ain’t it?” +</p> +<p> +“What’s that got to do with it, Bill?” +</p> +<p> +“Why, you big gump! Ain’t this parson got +something to peddle? His stock in trade is religion, +and he’s got just as much right to show goods +and try to drum up trade as the next one, ain’t he? +He’s entitled to a fair deal. And Boss Tolley, Tom +Hicks, and them other highbinders can sulk in their +dens and suck their paws. I ain’t never gone ironed +since I opened this shack, nigh thirty years ago. But +I’ll sling a gun on my hip and act as bodyguard if +it’s necessary for any feller that ain’t getting a fair +deal in this town. That’s gospel!” +</p> +<p> +“I never knowed ye was so all-fired religious, +Bill,” complained one of his surprised hearers. +</p> +<p> +“Religious!” retorted the storekeeper. “It ain’t +that I’m religious—not so’s you’d notice it. But I +got a sense of fair play,—dad burn it! Here comes +the parson now, boys.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_95'></a>95</span> +</p> +<p> +Hunt and Joe Hurley came out of the Wild Rose +Hotel. The minister had not donned his clerical +garments. He was dressed as he had been the day +before when he arrived on the stagecoach, except +for the hat he wore. That flopping-brimmed headgear +which he had taken from Tom Hicks crowned +the parson’s brush of crisp, dark hair. +</p> +<p> +“Boys,” said Hurley, when they came near, “meet +Willie Hunt. He’s one of the best old scouts I met +when I was East, that time I stood that college on +its head, like I told you. I reckon you know Willie +is a real man, if he <em>is</em> a parson. Mr. Hunt, meet +Jib Collins, Cale Mack, Jim Tierney, and—last but +not least—Bill Judson, who is the honored mentor of +this camp.” +</p> +<p> +“Whatever that is,” and the storekeeper grinned, +shaking hands in turn with Hunt. “This yere Joe +Hurley slings language at times that sartainly stops +traffic. He can’t seem to get over it. It was wished +on him when he lived East that time he is always +telling us about.” +</p> +<p> +Hunt knew how to meet these men—he was by +nature a “good mixer.” There is much in the grasp +of a hand, a steady look, an unafraid smile, that +recommends the stranger to such bold spirits. The +timid, even the hesitant, make no progress with +them. +</p> +<p> +“Parson,” pursued Judson, “we was just discussin’ +your business as you and Joe come along. In +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_96'></a>96</span> +my opinion we need you yere at Canyon Pass. I’m +speakin’ for myself alone,” and he glared at the +other men in the group accusingly; “but I can’t put it +too strong. We need ye. To my mind religion is a +mighty good thing. We’re loose livin’, we’re loose +talkin’, and we need to be jacked up right smart. +</p> +<p> +“You can count on me, parson, to back any play +you make, clean across the board. I’m for you, +strong. We need meetin’s started. We ought to +have a Sunday school for the young ’uns. We need +to be preached at and prayed with. I come of right +strict Presbyterian stock, and when I was a lad +I was used to all the means of grace, I was.” +</p> +<p> +“You are interested, then, Mr. Judson, in any +attempt we may make to inaugurate services here on +Sunday?” Hunt asked cheerfully. +</p> +<p> +“Youbetcha!” was the hearty rejoinder. +</p> +<p> +“Of course, Mr. Judson,” Hunt pursued, “you +understand that, to have successful and helpful +services, some of us at least must have the spirit +of service?” +</p> +<p> +“Sure. That’s what I tell ’em.” +</p> +<p> +“I take it from brief observation that this day—the +Sabbath—is observed very little at present in +Canyon Pass?” +</p> +<p> +“True as true,” said the storekeeper. +</p> +<p> +“To get people really interested in divine services +on this day, don’t you think we should begin by +making some difference—a real difference—between +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_97'></a>97</span> +the First Day and the other six?” Hunt +continued, eyeing Judson reflectively. “If we who +are interested in the betterment of the community +are not willing to lead in this matter, those we wish +to help can scarcely follow. +</p> +<p> +“Sunday should not be like the other six days of +the week. Your mines and gold washings shut +down on this day. How about other secular activities +ceasing—as far as it may be possible?” +</p> +<p> +“I—I reckon you’re right, parson,” Judson said, +though with some hesitation. “Of course, the boys +have been used to having their freedom on Sundays, +and their fun. I don’t believe you could go far in +shutting down the saloons and gambling tables—not +right at first.” +</p> +<p> +“But would you go as far as you could personally +to establish a better standard of Sunday observance?” +pursued Hunt. +</p> +<p> +“Heh?” ejaculated the puzzled Judson. +</p> +<p> +Hunt, still smiling, mounted the steps of the store, +closed the door, and turned the great key which had +been left in the outside of the lock. He removed +the key and handed it to Bill Judson as he came +down the steps again. +</p> +<p> +“Mr. Judson,” he said in a perfectly unmoved +voice, “if you will begin by keeping that door locked +on Sundays you will be leading the way in this community +toward a proper observance of the Lord’s +Day.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_98'></a>98</span> +</p> +<p> +Joe Hurley was on the point of bursting out +laughing. But he thought better of joining Collins, +Mack, and Tierney in wild expressions of joy at the +old man’s discomfiture. +</p> +<p> +Judson’s face turned from its usual weather-beaten +tan to a purple-red. His rheumy eyes +sparked. Then slowly, reflectively, a grin wreathed +his tobacco-stained lips and crinkled the outer corners +of his eyelids. +</p> +<p> +“Parson,” he said, thrusting out his hand again, +“you’re on! I’ll show these fellers I’m a good sport. +Nobody was ever able to say honestly that Bill Judson +took water; and I won’t give ’em the chance’t +to say it now.” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_99'></a>99</span><a name='chX' id='chX'></a>CHAPTER X—MUTTERINGS OF A STORM</h2> +<p> +It was Joe Hurley who saw Betty appear on the +porch of the hotel. Perhaps his gaze had been fixed +in that direction for that very purpose. It was +a vision to draw the eyes of any man hungry for a +picture of a well-dressed and modest young woman. +Betty Hunt was like nothing that had ever before +stepped out upon the Main Street of Canyon Pass. +</p> +<p> +“Come on, Willie,” urged Hurley, seizing the +minister’s sleeve. “You’ve jarred Judson clean to +bedrock. Spare him any more for now. Come on. +Your sister is waiting for us to take her to the +Great Hope.” +</p> +<p> +Betty was not gaily appareled. Her frock was +black and white, and so was her hat. She still +remembered Aunt Prudence’s death—and that she was +a parson’s sister! But it was the way the frock was +made, and how it and the hat became her that +marked Betty as an object of approval, to the male +Passonians at least. +</p> +<p> +“Such a beautiful day, Mr. Hurley,” Betty ventured. +“One might think it a respectable country +town if only one could forget last night.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_100'></a>100</span> +</p> +<p> +She stared at Hurley with accusation. He dropped +his head sheepishly. Somehow Betty Hunt put the +matter as though it were his fault! +</p> +<p> +“We’re going to change all that in time,” said +Hunt cheerfully. “These people are not so bad, +Betty——” +</p> +<p> +“That they couldn’t be worse? Yes, I know,” +retorted his sister. +</p> +<p> +“Why, Betty!” murmured Hunt, “isn’t that a bit +uncharitable?” +</p> +<p> +“I have no thought for charity in a place like +this,” declared the girl. “Such dirt, vileness and +disorder I never dreamed of! These people are not +even human! I cannot excuse them. No branch +of the human family could possibly be ignorant +enough for us to excuse what I have already seen +about me in Canyon Pass.” +</p> +<p> +“Great saltpeter!” murmured Hurley. +</p> +<p> +“You did not tell my brother the half of it!” +she cried, flaring at the mining man. “You hid the +worst. You only said things in your letters that +you knew would attract him here.” +</p> +<p> +Joe Hurley started back a step. If a kitten he +had stooped to pet had suddenly turned and gouged +him with its claws he could have been no more +startled. +</p> +<p> +But Betty Hunt proved herself no kitten. She +was usually a very self-contained and quite unexcited +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_101'></a>101</span> +young woman. It was only for a minute that +she allowed her anger to flame out. +</p> +<p> +“Now, that’s enough about that,” she pursued, +still with a frown. “The thing is done. We are +here. I do not believe that Ford will ever be +happy in Canyon Pass; and I know I shall not.” +</p> +<p> +“Better not speak so positively, Bet,” said Hunt +coolly. A brother seldom is much impressed by his +sister’s little ruffles of temper. “You may have to +change your opinion. My belief is that none of us +can find happiness in a new environment. We must +take the happiness with us to any new abode.” +</p> +<p> +Hurley was much subdued during their walk +through the town. His knowledge of girls like Betty +was very slight. He had never had a sister and +he could not remember his mother. +</p> +<p> +Even girls like Nell Blossom had not been frequent +events in the mining man’s life. His two years +spent in the East had been almost as barren of feminine +society as his years in the West. +</p> +<p> +Now, it must be confessed, Betty Hunt had “got +him going,” to quote his own thought in the matter. +Not that Hurley was of a fickle temperament. But +he was not a man to eat his heart out in an utterly +impossible cause. +</p> +<p> +Nell had shown him plainly that she had no use +for him save as an acquaintance. He could not +even count himself her friend now, for since her +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_102'></a>102</span> +return from Hoskins she had seemed more remote +from the men of Canyon Pass than ever before. +</p> +<p> +So, Joe Hurley had already put Nell out of his +mind in that way before Betty Hunt had appeared +on the scene. And, it seemed, he was fated to be +attracted by a distant star. The minister’s sister was +distinctly of another world—and a world far, far +above that of Canyon Pass, Hurley told himself. +</p> +<p> +It was not Betty’s finnicky ways, as her brother +bluntly called them, that held the girl from the East +so dear in Joe’s eyes. It was in spite of her disapproval +of Canyon Pass and all that lay therein. The +mining man was deeply interested in the development +of the camp. He had done much in a business +way to improve conditions here. He hoped to do +more. +</p> +<p> +He had quite realized that the place needed something +besides modern business methods to raise it +out of the slough in which it wallowed as a community. +This realization, shared with such people +as Bill Judson and old Mother Tubbs, had led Hurley +to interest the Reverend Willett Ford Hunt in +Canyon Pass. He foresaw the camp in time as well +governed a place as Crescent City. +</p> +<p> +Betty’s scorn and vituperation regarding the shortcomings +of the Pass actually pained Hurley. Was +it so bad as she seemed to think it was? This girl +from the East was very positive in her dislike for +the place and its people. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_103'></a>103</span> +</p> +<p> +Then he looked over her head at the quietly smiling +face of Hunt. He did not seem to share his +sister’s opinion that the Pass was beyond redemption. +There was, after all, a quality of sanity and +stability about Hunt that bolstered Hurley’s hope. +</p> +<p> +“That boy is all right,” thought Hurley finally. +“He sees things with a clear eye. And our crudeness +doesn’t scare him. His sister——Well! what +could you expect of a pretty, fluffy little thing like +her? This place is bound to look rotten to her at the +first. But at that, she may change her opinion.” +</p> +<p> +In fact, Joe Hurley had determination enough to +believe that he was just the chap who could change +these opinions of Betty Hunt! His non-success with +Nell Blossom had not convinced him that he would +never be able to attract other girls. +</p> +<p> +Right at the start Joe had been enamored of the +fragile beauty of the parson’s sister. Hers was not +the robust, if petite, prettiness of Nell Blossom. It +was a beauty of spirit and character that looked +out of Betty’s gray eyes. Her very calmness and +primness intrigued the mining man. +</p> +<p> +Opposite is attracted by opposite. Because he was +so open and hearty himself, Hurley admired the +daintiness and delicacy of Betty. Her primness, +even her shrinking from the things to which he was +so used in and about Canyon Pass, pleased the young +man in a way. +</p> +<p> +Here was just the sort of girl he desired to establish +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_104'></a>104</span> +in his home—a real home—when he got one. +Joe Hurley did not propose to live in a bachelor +shack in the purlieus of Canyon Pass all his life—by +no means! He was getting on. The Great Hope +was panning out well. It had every promise of +being a big thing in time. He was going to be rich. +Betty Hunt would grace the head of the table of a +millionaire—wear the clothes a prince might buy for +his wife—hold the respect and admiration that the +highest lady in the land might claim. +</p> +<p> +“I’ve got to have that girl,” thought Hurley. +“And I’m going after her!” +</p> +<p> +They climbed the steep road of rolled rock to the +highland overlooking the town and giving them a +view to the first turn of the canyon bed of Runaway +River. When the squalid sight of Canyon Pass +could be shut out of the mind, even Betty admitted +that the dimming light in the canyon lent a fairylike +charm to all its ruggedness. It was a slot made by +giants in the hills without doubt. She expressed a +desire to see more of it. +</p> +<p> +“I’ll get you a good cayuse,” said Hurley eagerly. +“Got any riding duds with you?” +</p> +<p> +“I have my habit in one of my trunks.” +</p> +<p> +The Westerner looked at her doubtfully. “Don’t +know about long skirts flapping around the legs of +these Western critters——” +</p> +<p> +“Habits are not made with skirts nowadays, Mr. +Hurley,” Betty interrupted coldly. “Fashion—even +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_105'></a>105</span> +in the Fenway—demands that the feminine +riding suit shall be mannish.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh! If you ride astraddle,” replied Hurley, +without realizing that his phrase shocked her, “we +can find you a horse that will fill the bill. I’ve got +one that I ride myself, and I can pick up one for +Willie.” +</p> +<p> +“Most agreeable to me, I’m sure,” agreed the +parson. “I can ride after a fashion. Bet got her +training at boarding school. If Aunt Prudence +knew all her niece got at that institution the dear +old lady would have been shocked.” +</p> +<p> +Betty did not smile. There were things that had +happened to her at boarding school that Ford knew +nothing about. His words aroused in her mind the +carking memory of the secret that had changed +Betty Hunt’s life completely—the secret that had +killed all the sparkle and winsome lightness in the +girl’s nature. She became silent and after that only +listened to the talk of the two young men. +</p> +<p> +Not that she was not interested as they went on +and Hurley pointed out the several claims being +worked with the most modern methods of the Oreode +Company, and the Nufall Syndicate, and by himself +and his associates at the Great Hope. This mining +business was all new to the girl, and she had an +inquiring mind. She did not shrink at all, when +Hurley suggested a descent into the shaft and produced +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_106'></a>106</span> +slickers and rubber boots and tarpaulins to +put on over their clothes. +</p> +<p> +The man in charge let them down in the bucket, +and a gasoline torch showed them all that there was +to see under the surface. Hurley explained with +pride how he had found and developed the first +paying lead in the Great Hope, but that the name of +the mine foreshadowed a much richer vein that he +was confident was soon to be opened. Science and +that “sixth sense” of the miner assured him that the +big thing was coming. +</p> +<p> +“We’re always looking toward El Dorado, we +miners,” he said with a laugh. “It’s hope that keeps +us up.” +</p> +<p> +“‘El Dorado’—the hoped-for land,” repeated +Betty softly. And then, standing there in the flickering +radiance of the torch, she repeated, while the +men were silent, that concluding paragraph of Robert +Louis Stevenson’s essay: +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +“‘O toiling hands of mortals! O unwearied feet, +traveling ye know not whither! Soon, soon it seems +to you, you must come forth on some conspicuous +hilltop and, but a little way further, against the +setting sun, descry the spires of El Dorado. Little +do ye know your own blessedness, for to travel hopefully +is a better thing than to arrive, and the true +success is to labor.’” +</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_107'></a>107</span></div> +<p> +“Amen,” Hunt commented seriously. +</p> +<p> +“You said it,” agreed the mining man with that +bluff emphasis that did not shock Betty so much +now as it might at the beginning. “That’s what +keeps me going. Stevenson knew what he was +writing about. But, we would have considered him +a weakling out here, I am afraid. We are inclined +to judge everything here in terms of muscle and +brawn.” +</p> +<p> +“But it has been your brains, Joe, not your brawn, +that has carried you so far in this work,” Hunt +declared warmly. +</p> +<p> +Hurley sighed as they went back to the shaft. +“Let me tell you I have had to use considerable +brawn, Willie, in handling these roughnecks that +work for me.” +</p> +<p> +He laughed again. Joe Hurley could not be +sober for long. And his temper exploded when he +had to shout at the top of his lungs to attract the +attention of the watchmen when they wanted to get +up to the surface. +</p> +<p> +“This feller isn’t worth the powder to blow him +from here to Jericho,” grumbled Hurley. “I always +miss old Steve Siebert when he slopes for the desert, +as he’s bound to do every spring. That old desert +rat is always here over Sunday to see that everything +is all right, when he’s on the job. But he +just has to go off prospecting once in so often.” +</p> +<p> +He told them more about Siebert and Andy McCann as +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_108'></a>108</span> +they went away from the claim. Betty +listened as before with quiet interest, but she made +no comment. Hurley was not at all sure that she +had enjoyed, or even approved of their visit to the +mine when she and Hunt parted from him at his +own shack, although she thanked him politely. +</p> +<p> +The walk did not end for Hunt and his sister +without a more adventurous incident. The sun had +disappeared and the dusk had begun to thicken in +corners and by-streets as they approached the hotel. +There, at the mouth of a narrow lane, two figures +stood, a man and a girl, and their voices were sharp +and angry. +</p> +<p> +“That’s what I’m telling you,” the man’s voice +drawled, a note in it that at once raised in Hunt +that feeling that any decent man experiences who +hears one of his own sex so address a woman. +“You got to come to it, and you might as well +come now as later. I got you on the hip—that I +have. Understand?” +</p> +<p> +“I understand nothing of the kind, Tolley. You’re +a bluffer and a beast! And if you don’t let me +alone——” +</p> +<p> +“Don’t fool yourself,” interrupted the man. “I +won’t let you alone till you come back to the Grub +Stake. But I won’t talk to you about it again. I’ll +talk to others.” +</p> +<p> +Then the girl told him angrily to do his worst. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_109'></a>109</span> +Betty attempted to pass on swiftly; but the young +man hesitated. +</p> +<p> +“Do for goodness’ sake come along, Ford!” whispered +his sister, looking back at him. +</p> +<p> +Back in Ditson Corners—or in almost any other +Eastern town—the Reverend Willett Ford Hunt +would scarcely have shown his interest in such a +scene on the street, save perhaps to speak to a +constable or policeman about it. +</p> +<p> +But there was something here he could not ignore. +Nor was it entirely because he recognized +the angry voice of the girl, although he had not as +yet seen her face in the dusk. +</p> +<p> +“You’ll do what I tell you,” muttered the bully +with an oath, as Hunt stepped nearer. “If you don’t +come back to the Grub Stake to sing to-morrow +night, I’ll let the whole o’ Canyon Pass know——” +</p> +<p> +It was just then that Hunt’s hand dropped upon +Boss Tolley’s shoulder. Nor did it drop lightly. +The parson twisted the big man around by one muscular +exertion and looked into his flushed face. +</p> +<p> +“Don’t you think you’ve said enough to the young +lady?” Hunt asked quietly. “You have evidently +forgotten yourself.” +</p> +<p> +“What—why, you fool tenderfoot!” +</p> +<p> +“Suppose you go, Miss Blossom,” suggested Hunt +with unruffled voice. “Let me speak to this man.” +</p> +<p> +But the minister had quite mistaken Nell Blossom’s +temper. She turned on him like a shot. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_110'></a>110</span> +</p> +<p> +“What are you butting in for, I’d like to know? +I can take care of myself—always have and always +expect to.” Then she laughed harshly, turning to +Tolley again. “Better beat it, Tolley, or the parson +will do something to you besides grabbing your +hat.” +</p> +<p> +The dance-hall keeper, swearing still, jerked away +from Hunt’s grasp. He did not seek to continue +the quarrel, however. He abruptly turned up the +alley and disappeared. +</p> +<p> +“For goodness’ sake, Ford!” ejaculated Miss +Betty. +</p> +<p> +Nell Blossom, thus attracted to the other girl, +stepped nearer and stared at her. Her own face was +unsmiling. If it had not been so really pretty one +might have said it was a black look that she gave +Betty. But it was an impish look, too. +</p> +<p> +“There are some things you’d better learn if you +are going to stay in this camp, parson,” said the +singer. “The principal thing is to mind your own +business. If I ever need your help in any little +thing, I’ll call on you.” +</p> +<p> +She passed them both, still staring—now with +curiosity—at Betty and went on along the street. +Betty seized her brother’s arm. +</p> +<p> +“What a horrid little creature!” she said. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_111'></a>111</span><a name='chXI' id='chXI'></a>CHAPTER XI—THE STORM ABOUT TO BURST</h2> +<p> +There was a strangely paradoxical feeling in the +Reverend Willett Ford Hunt’s mind. Nell Blossom +was a subject of thought he could not escape. He +could not wholly overlook her manners and speech; +yet he did not feel that she was blameworthy for +either. +</p> +<p> +What chance had this wild blossom of a girl ever +had, out in this wilderness, the daughter of a drunken +ne’er-do-well, as he had been told, taught from +her childhood to sing for her own living and for +her father’s in the saloons of mining camps? Why, +almost any other girl would have gone bad—as bad +as could be. And he knew Nell Blossom was not +bad. +</p> +<p> +He really wished he might make Joe Hurley his +confidant about the girl, but, harking back to that +letter of Joe’s in which the latter had spoken so enthusiastically +of Nell, the parson felt that his friend +was too strongly prejudiced in Nell’s favor to risk +his criticizing her in any way. +</p> +<p> +One question recurred again and again to him: +What did that man Tolley, who he knew was the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_112'></a>112</span> +proprietor of the Grub Stake saloon and dance hall, +mean by commanding Nell to return to his employment? +</p> +<p> +Betty saw her brother’s more serious mien, and it +must be confessed, wickedly hoped that the situation +as it opened before him here at Canyon Pass was +beginning to appall him. How could it do otherwise? +Let alone the crudeness and lack of conveniences +in their dwelling place, the nature of the +people with whom they must associate, and the utter +forlornness of life here in the mining town, that last +incident as they walked back from the Great Hope +Mine should impress Ford with the utter impracticability +of his trying to begin a pastorate here. +</p> +<p> +The awful ruffian who had sworn at the girl—horrid +as she seemed to be—shocked Betty beyond +expression. And what a look that Nell Blossom, +she had asked her brother the singer’s name, had +given her, Betty Hunt! As unfriendly, as hateful, +as though the Eastern girl had done the singer some +grievous wrong. +</p> +<p> +The strange girl had insulted and flouted Ford, +too. Betty’s loyalty to her brother was up in arms +at that, if the truth were told. She could not but +admire after all Ford’s cool assumption of authority +with the ruffian and with the cabaret singer as well. +Why, Ford did not seem to be afraid of these people +at all. Even Joe Hurley could have been no more +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_113'></a>113</span> +sure of himself in such a situation than her brother +had proved to be. +</p> +<p> +For in spite of her disapproval of the mining man +she realized that Joe was perfectly able to handle +such situations and such rude people with equanimity. +But then, he was of this soil. He was of the +West. To tell the truth, Betty was inclined to think +of Hurley as being quite as bad in manners, speech, +and outlook on life as the other people of Canyon +Pass. +</p> +<p> +She would say nothing about all this to her +brother. Betty Hunt was quite capable of thinking +things out for herself. Prejudiced she had been—and +was—against the town and their visit to it; +but she did not utterly lack logic. She went to bed +that second night in the Wild Rose Hotel with somewhat +different thoughts in her mind after all. At +least, she did not drag the washstand in front of her +locked door as a barrier. +</p> +<p> +In the morning the mining man appeared at the +door of the hotel riding his big bay and leading +two other saddled horses. The freight wagons had +come in the evening before, and Betty had got her +trunks. Out of one she had resurrected the riding +habit which she had not worn of late, but which +still fitted her perfectly and was chic. +</p> +<p> +But Betty was daunted by the look of the mount +Hurley had selected for her. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_114'></a>114</span> +</p> +<p> +“Mr. Hurley!” exclaimed Betty emphatically, “on +your honor, is that horse safe?” +</p> +<p> +“As safe as a church. You hitch him on a railroad +track, and he’d only step just far enough aside +for the lightning express to go by without shaving +him.” +</p> +<p> +She looked at him, both puzzled and disapproving. +“I never know when you are serious,” she finally +said. +</p> +<p> +“You can bet your last blue chip on the fact that +I am taking no chances of a hoss throwing you or +cutting up rusty while you’re on his back,” the man +returned earnestly. “Hardscrabble is all right, Miss +Betty.” +</p> +<p> +He offered his hand to Betty for her to step into +with all the grace of a courtier. He looked up into +her eyes, too, as she mounted past his shoulder into +the saddle, and his smile was so friendly that she +could not help smiling in return. +</p> +<p> +Hunt swung himself on to his own mount—a +rather rangy cayuse that promised speed as well as +endurance. Hurley bounded into his own saddle +from the step without touching the stirrups until he +was seated. Bouncer stood up on his hind legs, +snorted, came down stiff-legged, and bucked once +just to show that he was in fine fettle. The other +horses cantered away from the hotel more sedately. +</p> +<p> +They spattered through the West Fork and went +into the canyon along the river trail. There was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_115'></a>115</span> +not a soul in sight but themselves when they turned +the first out-thrust of the cliff. Runaway River +brawled in its bed. The huge, threatening cap of +the Overhang cast its shadow almost to the opposite +wall. The mighty rocks, the deep cracks in which +the brush clung with tenuous roots, the wind-wrung, +anguished, stunted trees, all held the visitors spellbound. +Such a devil’s slot in the hills they could +never have imagined without actually seeing it. +</p> +<p> +“Suppose that should fall?” Betty broke out +pointing up at the frowning cap of the cliff. +</p> +<p> +“That’s what we are supposing all the time, Miss +Betty,” replied Hurley quietly. “Part of it did +fall about twenty years ago. That was long before +my time, of course. But Bill Judson and some of +the other old-timers can tell you about it. It came +pretty near ringing the death-knell for Canyon +Pass.” +</p> +<p> +“Backed up the river into the town, did it?” +asked the logical Hunt. +</p> +<p> +“I’ll say it did! And over the town. Judson says +it was so deep over his store that he went out from +the headlands in a flatboat and grappled through +the skylight of his joint for tobacco out of the showcase. +Takes that old-timer to spread it on thick,” +and he chuckled. +</p> +<p> +“But is it likely to happen again?” cried Betty. +</p> +<p> +“Any day—any hour—any minute,” repeated +Hurley quietly. “There are thousands of tons of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_116'></a>116</span> +stuff up there that may fall. Choke the canyon half-wall +high. If it does, there’ll be a lake here that’ll +furnish water enough to irrigate blame near all +of the Topaz Desert—believe me. Canyon Pass will +have to go into raising frogs or such,” and he +laughed. +</p> +<p> +“Oh! I felt that it was a dangerous place to +live in,” murmured Betty. +</p> +<p> +“Great saltpeter!” exclaimed Hurley again. “No +worse than folks who live on the sides of volcanoes +in Italy, for instance. Or in the earthquake belt +along the Pacific coast. Pshaw!” +</p> +<p> +“But—but there is so much room out here, Mr. +Hurley,” cried Betty. “Why not choose a safer +place in which to establish a town?” +</p> +<p> +“The mines and washings. Gold established +Canyon Pass. It isn’t a beautiful spot, but it’s +handy. We got to just keep on hoping that the +Overhang doesn’t fall.” +</p> +<p> +“There is a place where some of it has fallen—and +recently,” Hunt broke in, with some gravity. +</p> +<p> +Half blocking the trail, and bulking along the +river’s edge for perhaps ten yards, was a heap of +gravel and soil on which no grass or other verdure +grew. Looking up the sloping canyon wall they +could trace the downfall of this small slide for more +than half the distance to the summit. +</p> +<p> +“What is that sticking out of it?” asked Betty. +“A stick?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_117'></a>117</span> +</p> +<p> +Hurley sniffed like a bird-dog that has just raised +a covey. He was to windward of the heap. Hunt +had forced his mount nearer from the other side. +</p> +<p> +“That is not a stick,” he said quietly. “It looks +to me like——” +</p> +<p> +Hurley ejaculated something that was very near +an oath. He flung himself out of his saddle and +strode over the rubble. He stopped and examined +the thing Betty had seen, even touching it with his +gauntleted hand. +</p> +<p> +“Never heard of this,” he muttered. “Odd, I +must say!” +</p> +<p> +“What is it?” asked Hunt. +</p> +<p> +“A horse’s leg. Been pecked clean by the vultures—not +by coyotes, or the bones would be torn +apart. Well!” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, there has been a dreadful accident here! +Is somebody buried under that pile of gravel?” demanded +Betty. +</p> +<p> +“Not likely. Just a cayuse. Maybe a wandering +critter. Happened to be right here—taking +a drink at the riverside, maybe—when the slide fell. +Or it might have been the cause of the slip. Came +down with it,” Hurley explained in jerky sentences. +“The weight of the hoss might have broke off a +piece of the Overhang and—here he is!” +</p> +<p> +This seemed to satisfy him. He went back to +his own horse and mounted again. +</p> +<p> +They rode several miles farther, but Joe Hurley +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_118'></a>118</span> +did not seem quite so volatile as usual. Was he +“studying” on the buried horse by the riverside? +At least, when they rode back toward noon, he fell +behind at the point where the small landslip had +landed, halting his horse beside it for a moment. +He overtook his friends in a short time, however, +but did not say anything. +</p> +<p> +As they sighted the ford again, down from the +upland on this side came a dashing and brilliant-hued +figure—a girl on a cream-colored pony. Hunt +recognized Nell Blossom at first glance. +</p> +<p> +“Hi, Nell!” shouted Hurley, raising his hand and +arm, palm out, in the Indian peace sign. +</p> +<p> +She scarcely nodded to him, but she grinned +elfishly as she rode down into the shallows and +her pony’s flying feet spattered them all at the river’s +edge. She scarcely seemed to give Hunt and +his sister a glance. She plied the quirt that hung +from her wrist, and the cream-colored pony recklessly +forded the stream and climbed the further +bank. +</p> +<p> +“How impolite,” murmured the Eastern girl, +brushing the drops from her sleeve. +</p> +<p> +“She’s a little devil,” agreed Hurley frankly. +“That’s the lady I was telling you of, Willie. She’s +as wild as a jack rabbit.” +</p> +<p> +Hunt nodded soberly. He made no other comment. +As they rode up into Main Street they heard +wild yells and hootings from the far end, then the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_119'></a>119</span> +pattering of a pony’s rapid hoofbeats. Back toward +the ford tore the cream-colored pony bearing the +bizarre figure of the cabaret singer. +</p> +<p> +Now Nell rode without touching the bridle reins. +She swung the whip and cracked it sharply. In +the other hand she gripped a six-shooter of practical +size and weight. +</p> +<p> +“What is the matter with that crazy creature?” +asked Betty. +</p> +<p> +Hurley merely laughed. Nell Blossom approached +at a wild gallop. Men appeared at the doors of +various stores and saloons along the street and +yelled their delight. +</p> +<p> +“Ye-yip! Yip-py-yip!” shrieked the appreciative +audience. “Oh, you Nell! Ye-<em>yow</em>! Git out o’ +town!” +</p> +<p> +The girl, her face glowing, her hair flying from +under her hat, her whole figure electric with life +and abundance of spirit, rode faster and faster. +As she approached the front of the Grub Stake she +saw the slouching figure of its proprietor backed +against the wall by the door, smoking. He grinned +evilly at the rider. +</p> +<p> +Nell pressed the trigger. Five staccato shots +whistled skyward. The sixth ruffled the lank hair on +Boss Tolley’s head and splintered the door frame +just above it! +</p> +<p> +The divekeeper dodged and crouched, as though +expecting another bullet. He almost slunk into his +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_120'></a>120</span> +barroom. Then he realized that the girl had made +a show of him and was riding on, applauded by the +laughter and shrieks of the onlookers. +</p> +<p> +He whirled, and, lifting both hands, shook the +clenched fists after the flying Nell. He was almost +apoplectic with rage. He burst forth: +</p> +<p> +“You crazy, derned hoptoad of a gal! Somebody +ought to grab you off that animal. Shootin’ +at folks thataway! Is that what you done when +you drove poor Dick Beckworth over the edge of +the Overhang?” +</p> +<p> +The incoming trio of riders—Hurley, Hunt and +Betty—were almost opposite the Grub Stake as +Tolley emitted these words. In a flash the mining +man was out of the saddle and standing in front +of the startled Tolley. +</p> +<p> +“What do you mean, you miserable scoundrel?” +demanded Joe in so threatening a tone that Tolley +fell back against the side of the building again. +“What do you mean about Dick Beckworth?” +</p> +<p> +Hunt had spurred his own horse nearer. He +feared Joe would do something rash. The rolling, +bloodshot eye of the divekeeper expressed fear of +the other; but he was too much enraged to call +caution to his aid at that moment. +</p> +<p> +“I mean what I say,” he rumbled. “You don’t +know it, and nobody else in Canyon Pass, I reckon, +knows it but me. But I know that derned crazy +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_121'></a>121</span> +gal was the cause of Dick Beckworth’s end. And +a mean end it was.” +</p> +<p> +“Dick the Devil, <em>dead</em>?” +</p> +<p> +“That’s what he is,” said Tolley with less vehemence. +He sensed that it would not be wise to +be so vociferous with Joe Hurley’s eyes glaring into +his own. “Dick come to a mighty mean end. I seen +it; but I didn’t know what it meant.” +</p> +<p> +“It’s more likely you killed him, Tolley—if he’s +dead. Or did you have him gunned by Tom Hicks +or some other of your friends?” demanded Hurley +sharply. +</p> +<p> +“I never! Poor Dick wasn’t expectin’ nawthin’, +I allow. That crazy gal——” +</p> +<p> +“Be blamed easy how you bring Nell’s name into +this,” muttered Hurley, his hand upon the butt of +his own gun. +</p> +<p> +Hunt leaned from his saddle and laid his hand +upon his friend’s shoulder. Hurley did not look +back—he knew better, for there was likewise a gun +at Boss Tolley’s belt. +</p> +<p> +“All right, Willie,” the mining man said. “Let’s +listen to what this rat has to say. But be blame +careful, Tolley, that you don’t raise your voice too +high. If you do, I’ll certainly maul you a pile.” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_122'></a>122</span><a name='chXII' id='chXII'></a>CHAPTER XII—TOLLEY’S TALE</h2> +<p> +Hunt had a feeling that he was present at one +of those tense scenes of a Western cinema drama, +where the heroic gunman holds the villain under the +muzzle of his lethal weapon. +</p> +<p> +He might have leaned from his horse again and +plucked both Joe Hurley’s gun and that of the divekeeper +from their holsters. But he thought twice +about that. Neither of the men was in the mood to +brook interference. Besides, the parson was keenly +alive to the mystery manifested in Tolley’s words +regarding Nell Blossom and the man called Dick +the Devil. +</p> +<p> +Nobody else was near enough to have overheard +what passed between Tolley and Joe Hurley. None +of the other Passonians, amused by Nell’s wild +escapade, drew nearer, and Betty had ridden on to +the hotel, refusing to betray the least interest in such +a rude scene. +</p> +<p> +“Speak up, Tolley!” commanded Hurley again. +“You’ve been telling us Dick Beckworth went to +Denver to deal faro at a gambling house there. Now +you come out with such a thing as this—mixing +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_123'></a>123</span> +Nell’s name up in some blamed lie about Dick’s +being killed.” +</p> +<p> +“He was killed. It was murder—or mighty close +to it. And that gal——” +</p> +<p> +He halted again. There was something in Joe +Hurley’s eyes that stopped him. +</p> +<p> +“Suppose you start this thing right,” said the +mine owner more quietly. “I understand Dick +Beckworth left town the morning old Steve and +Andy McCann broke out, the same as usual, this +spring?” +</p> +<p> +“And the same morning that gal left me and the +Grub Stake flat, and went kitin’ off,” retorted Tolley. +</p> +<p> +“Well, let’s hear the particulars.” +</p> +<p> +“I didn’t know Nell had gone at first.” He +winced, having spoken the girl’s name again, because +of the darting threat from Hurley’s brown +eyes. “When Dick told me he was off I didn’t +scarce believe him. But then I seen him and that—er—gal +riding down to the ford. I thought they +was up to some game. Anyway, I thought I could +talk Dick into coming back. He was the best dealer +I ever had.” +</p> +<p> +“Well?” snapped Hurley. +</p> +<p> +“I saddled a hoss and went after them. They’d +followed the wagon track to the top of the cliff. +But I thought they’d took the river trail. When I +got a piece along the road, I heard something go +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_124'></a>124</span> +<em>bam</em>—a fall of rock, or something, down the cliff. +I hurried my nag and come around a turn where I +could see. I looked up—never thought to look ahead +along the edge of Runaway River, I see her—Nell—looking +over the edge of the cliff. +</p> +<p> +“I see then I was follering the wrong lead,” +pursued Tolley. “I didn’t think much about the +slip I’d heard—not then. I wanted to get at Dick. +So I turned back, got to the foot of the wagon +track up the cliff yonder,” he pointed, “and hurried +after them. +</p> +<p> +“When I got up there neither of ’em was in sight. +I hustled along the road and went clean past the +fork of the Hoskins’ trail. Never thought of either +of ’em going to that dump,” grumbled Tolley. +</p> +<p> +“Well, I give it up after a while. I thought I’d +lost too much time, starting out wrong at first +as I had. They was too fast for me. So I rode +back. It wasn’t till then, when I come to that place +I’d seen Nell looking over from, that I saw how +big a lump had broke off the edge of the Overhang.” +</p> +<p> +Hurley sucked in his breath sharply. “Go on!” +was all he said. +</p> +<p> +“I looked down there. I seen how big the slide +was. And I seen something more. There was +something sticking out of that heap of stuff on the +river bank. I couldn’t be sure, but I thought it was +the hind parts of a hoss, only upside down. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_125'></a>125</span> +</p> +<p> +“I pushed my hoss along the river trail again and +come to the heap of stuff that had come down the +cliff. It hadn’t come down alone.” +</p> +<p> +Hunt, listening as closely as Hurley, had no +idea how his friend felt; but for his own part his +flesh crawled at the inference he drew from Tolley’s +tale. The man let his last words sink into their +minds for fully a minute before he went on. +</p> +<p> +“It hit me right where I lived. Something bad +had happened. It hadn’t happened to the gal. So +I figgered it must be Dick. +</p> +<p> +“And I wasn’t mistook,” continued Tolley with a +certain satisfaction in his tone. “I’d been right +when I thought there was a hoss in that pile of +gravel. There was—but not much of it stickin’ +out. However, I clawed down to the saddle, undid +it, and hauled it out. It was Dick’s all right. I got +it now stuck into the bottom of my big safe.” +</p> +<p> +“But where was Dick?” demanded Hurley. +</p> +<p> +“How should <em>I</em> know?” retorted the other. +“Maybe under the heap—but I didn’t think so. I +reckon he was throwed clean into the river. And +you know what the current of Runaway River is!” +</p> +<p> +Hurley groaned. +</p> +<p> +“Wait!” said Hunt suddenly. “The man you +call Dick might not have gone over the cliff with +the horse. You did not see the accident.” +</p> +<p> +“He didn’t come back to town. And he wouldn’t +have gone on afoot to Hoskins or any place else,” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_126'></a>126</span> +Tolley said surlily. “Nobody ain’t seen him around +yere from that day to this.” +</p> +<p> +“And you lied about Dick and kept it under your +hat all this time?” was Hurley’s comment. +</p> +<p> +“Well, I had a right, didn’t I?” blustered Tolley. +</p> +<p> +“Every right in the world.” The mining man +spoke evenly now, coldly. “And you’ve got a better +right to keep the story to yourself right along.” +</p> +<p> +“What d’ye mean?” +</p> +<p> +“What I say. Keep your mouth shut about it. +Don’t let me hear of you opening your yawp the +way you did just now. I don’t half believe this +yarn, anyway. You couldn’t tell <em>all</em> the truth about +anything, Tolley. The truth isn’t in you. But +sometimes a half-truth does more harm than a +whole lie. You stick to your first story about Dick +the Devil going to Denver. Understand?” +</p> +<p> +“I don’t understand why I should do what you +say, Hurley.” +</p> +<p> +The latter patted the butt of his own gun. “Notice +that?” he said with a deadly fierceness that +shocked Hunt. “If you repeat this yarn, I’ll come +after you. And if I come after you, Tolley, I’ll get +you!” +</p> +<p> +He went back to the waiting Bouncer and mounted +into the saddle without another word or a glance +at Tolley. But Hunt, his nerves strained to a +tension he had never before experienced, watched +the owner of the Grub Stake sharply. Hurley’s +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_127'></a>127</span> +disregard of the fellow amazed the man from the +East. He did not realize that Tolley was so unstrung +that he could not have hit the broad side of +a barn if he had drawn his gun. But Joe Hurley +knew it. +</p> +<p> +The two young men rode on to the door of the +hotel, both silent. Cholo Sam was watching Betty’s +pony. The girl had dismounted and gone up to her +room. +</p> +<p> +“Joe, what is going to be the end of this?” asked +Hunt in a low voice. +</p> +<p> +“I don’t know, Willie.” +</p> +<p> +“Will you speak——” +</p> +<p> +“To Nell? Not on your life!” +</p> +<p> +“But the truth will come out some time. Who +was that Dick?” +</p> +<p> +Hurley told him. He went further and told of +the interest the cabaret singer had shown in the +gambler for some time previous to Dick’s disappearance—before +Nell had gone to Hoskins to sing +in the Tin Can Saloon. +</p> +<p> +“It—it looks bad,” faltered Hunt. +</p> +<p> +“Bad is no name for it.” +</p> +<p> +“The girl should be questioned.” +</p> +<p> +“Not by me!” cried Hurley. “I don’t think Tolley +will run the risk of speaking to her about it,” +he added. +</p> +<p> +“He has already,” said Hunt. +</p> +<p> +He explained about what he and Betty had +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_128'></a>128</span> +overheard pass between Nell Blossom and the owner +of the Grub Stake the evening previous. +</p> +<p> +“Great saltpeter!” gasped Hurley. “Then that’s +why Nell cut that caper just now. She didn’t do +it just for deviltry. She was warning Tolley on +her own hook.” +</p> +<p> +“Joe, there must be no bloodshed over this. If +one man has died, that is enough,” Hunt said sternly. +“We must get at the truth.” +</p> +<p> +“Not me!” cried Hurley again. “I wouldn’t +tackle Nell for a farm.” +</p> +<p> +“And—and you are so close to her—know her so +well?” murmured Hunt. +</p> +<p> +“That ain’t no never-mind,” the mining man said +earnestly. “That girl’s got teeth, I tell you.” +</p> +<p> +“But she is in danger. She must be questioned.” +</p> +<p> +“Great saltpeter! You wouldn’t get nothing out +of Nell Blossom—nothing that she didn’t want to +tell.” +</p> +<p> +“She should be convinced that her greater danger +lies in silence.” +</p> +<p> +“Convince Nell? What did I tell you, Willie? +You couldn’t make her do a thing, or even see a +thing, that she did not want to do or see.” +</p> +<p> +“There is one thing I can do,” said Hunt finally. +</p> +<p> +“What’s that, Willie?” and his friend sighed. +</p> +<p> +“Find me a pickax and shovel.” +</p> +<p> +“What’s that?” +</p> +<p> +“A pickax and a shovel. At once.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_129'></a>129</span> +</p> +<p> +“Great——Say, that’s a new one. I never +thought of getting an idea into Nell Blossom’s stubborn +head with those tools. But it might work at +that,” and Hurley rode off to get the instruments +of labor, but without a smile. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_130'></a>130</span><a name='chXIII' id='chXIII'></a>CHAPTER XIII—PLANS ARE MADE</h2> +<p> +Hurley brought back with him two shovels instead +of one, and the pick. The two young men +took a roundabout way to the ford so that Boss +Tolley might not spy them and suspect where they +were going. +</p> +<p> +They did not talk much. Both were thinking +too deeply—were much too disturbed by the uprearing +of this tragic thing—for idle chatter. Hunt +wondered how his friend really thought of Nell +Blossom. For his own part he was heavily depressed +by this thing that had come to light. +</p> +<p> +The situation threatened serious consequences for +the cabaret singer. In a more law-abiding community +the coroner’s office would have summoned +Nell Blossom for examination if the district attorney +did not. And in any case, Hunt believed, +the whole miserable business must come at last to +the light of day. +</p> +<p> +It was past noon when Hunt and his friend arrived +at that heap of dirt and débris that had before +attracted their attention. But neither of them +thought of the hour or of the midday meal. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_131'></a>131</span> +</p> +<p> +Hunt, dismounting, allowed the reins to trail +upon the ground before his horse’s nose as he saw +Hurley did with Bouncer. Both animals were well +trained. He removed coat, vest, and Tom Hicks’ +broad-brimmed hat which he still affected. Rolling +up his sleeves he seized the pick and went at the +task with the skill as well as the strength of a +trained ditch-digger. Hurley admired the parson’s +ability thus displayed. +</p> +<p> +“Some boy, you, Willie. I’ll tell the world you +know something besides pounding the pulpit. +Where’s that shovel?” +</p> +<p> +They uncovered the dead animal and threw it +into the swift, deep current of the Runaway. +</p> +<p> +They did not cease digging, however, until every +square yard of the fallen soil and rubble from the +top of the cliff had been combed over. They covered +one section with the upturned windrow of another. +Nothing which had fallen with that fatal +landslide remained unseen. But what they had +feared to find was not in evidence. +</p> +<p> +“Either Tolley’s guess was right, or Dick Beckworth +never came down that wall with his horse,” +Hurley said with finality. +</p> +<p> +Hunt nodded, finally leaning on his spade. “At +least, we have satisfied our own minds,” he said. +“That is something.” +</p> +<p> +“And mighty little. Dick isn’t here. I bet a +thousand he didn’t go to Hoskins with Nell. He +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_132'></a>132</span> +wouldn’t have walked in any case. Then, where the +devil is he?” +</p> +<p> +“That is not the main question,” rejoined the +parson thoughtfully. “The principal thing is to +get at the truth about this accident. What happened +up there at the top of the cliff? Did the man +come down with the horse and these several tons +of gravel and soil? And if he came down, what +became of his body?” +</p> +<p> +“Great saltpeter!” Hurley brought out his uncouth +ejaculation with a new emphasis. “Do you +suppose Tolley, after all, knows more about that +than Nell does?” +</p> +<p> +“What?” Then Hunt understood. “It might +be,” he said slowly. “Evidently Tolley was not +pleased by that gambler’s leaving him, any more than +he was pleased by Miss Blossom’s leaving him. It +might be——” +</p> +<p> +“It might be,” finished Hurley with vigor, “that +Boss Tolley is dragging a skunk after him to fool +the hounds.” +</p> +<p> +Hunt admitted the truth of this rather homely expression. +“All the more reason why the girl must +be questioned,” he said. +</p> +<p> +“You’re crazy, Willie!” cried Hurley. “You will +get nothing out of Nell—if she doesn’t want to talk. +And if she knows anything at all about this, and is +at all connected with the matter of Dick’s disappearance, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_133'></a>133</span> +you can just bet she’s got good reason for +keeping her lips closed.” +</p> +<p> +“For her own sake, she should confide in us—in +you, at least. She will need our help and our support +if this comes out.” +</p> +<p> +“She’s got mine, whether or no,” Hurley said, +slinging on his belt and gun again. +</p> +<p> +Perhaps Hunt thought he spoke significantly as +he hitched the weapon into place. He wagged a +disagreeing head. +</p> +<p> +“That sort of support will not save Nell Blossom’s +soul,” he observed thoughtfully. “To blow +off Tolley’s head will not help her one iota in +cleansing her mind and heart of anguish if she has +guilty knowledge of that man’s death—if he is +dead.” +</p> +<p> +“I tell you that Dick the Devil was well named,” +cried Hurley furiously. “Why some man before +this had not beaten him to death is a mystery. If +Nell shot him off the edge of that cliff, he got what +was coming to him, and no more.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh!” murmured Hunt, with a shudder. “It +might not be that she has such a terrible sin as that +on her conscience!” +</p> +<p> +“I don’t give a hang,” returned his friend. “If +she had, there ain’t twelve men in Canyon County +that would convict her of it. Don’t tell me!” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Joe! You don’t see. You don’t understand,” +urged his friend sadly. “What matters +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_134'></a>134</span> +man’s conviction of her crime? It is of what her +own heart may convict her.” +</p> +<p> +“’Twouldn’t bother me none if I’d sent Dick the +Devil over that cliff,” declared Hurley. “But I +leave it to you, parson. You maybe know more +about such things than I do. To tell the truth, you +do. Otherwise I wouldn’t have had any hopes of +your doing any good in Canyon Pass. Maybe you +know more about womankind than I do, as well,” +he added, a bitter smile wreathing his lips once +more. “I wish you all the luck in the world when +you tackle Nell Blossom on this topic. But I +wouldn’t be in your shoes for half my stock in the +Great Hope.” +</p> +<p> +Anxious as he was made by the outbreak of this +affair the Reverend Willett Ford Hunt did not forget +the work that he earnestly hoped to begin in +Canyon Pass. Nor did he delay in laying plans for +the efforts he hoped would aid in changing the +moral tone of the town. +</p> +<p> +It was that evening in the Three Star Grocery +where he went with Joe Hurley that the first tentative +plan was discussed. Jib Collins, who seemed +to have been much impressed by the young minister +on Sunday afternoon, was there, as well as the +old storekeeper himself. With them several of the +more sober citizens joined in conversation. +</p> +<p> +Hunt struck while the iron was hot. The first +thing, he thought, was to find some place in which +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_135'></a>135</span> +services could be held on Sunday. He had seen +at least one empty store, or warehouse, he told them, +which might be cleaned out and put into fairly decent +shape. He had looked into the windows. +There was a dingy sign on the front which said it +was for sale. +</p> +<p> +“Dad burn it, parson!” exclaimed Judson, “you +must mean that old place of Tolley’s.” +</p> +<p> +“Tolley?” repeated Hunt with disappointment. +“Does it belong to that man?” +</p> +<p> +“Sure does,” said Jib Collins. +</p> +<p> +“It used to be where Tolley had his honkytonk +before he built his bigger place. He owns it, of +course,” Hurley remarked. +</p> +<p> +“Then I presume we could scarcely count on getting +it,” said Hunt with reflection. “Tolley is +vigorously opposed, I understand, to this thing we +wish to do.” +</p> +<p> +“Hold on,” put in the storekeeper. “Let’s study +on it. In the first place, you all keep it under your +hats, and maybe I can do something with Tolley.” +</p> +<p> +“You’ll do a fat lot with him,” prophesied Collins. +</p> +<p> +“Mebbe so. We’ll see. How ’bout that ‘wisdom +of sarpints’ the Good Book speaks of, parson?” +said the storekeeper. “You lemme try to fix it with +Tolley. That’s all.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, we’ll leave it to you, old-timer,” Hurley +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_136'></a>136</span> +said laughingly. “Nobody will begrudge you that +job.” +</p> +<p> +“If we get that place—or some other—we must +have seats,” Hunt went on. “There are many things +to think of—and many things to get together before +next Sunday. A week is none too long to prepare +for such a work.” +</p> +<p> +“And a pulpit,” Collins proposed. “Me and Cale +could knock up a pulpit—of a kind. We are some +carpenters—me and Cale. If I can get him to help.” +</p> +<p> +Hunt was perfectly willing to put such burdens +as he might upon the friendly citizens of Canyon +Pass. In fact, that is just what he wanted them to +do—take hold of the new idea as though they really +supported it. The discussion, although of generalities, +brought forth some concrete results. +</p> +<p> +Judson knew that Tolley was anxious to do something +with the old shack. Judson intimated that he +expected to need more room for goods. He did not +say exactly when he would need it; but he got Tolley +down to an agreement, and they made a bargain. +The storekeeper paid a nominal rent for the shack +six months in advance, agreeing to make such repairs +as the place might need himself. +</p> +<p> +The business was kept secret, although Collins +and Cale Mack went to work on their part of the +job the very next day. Others collected seats and +a few other furnishings. Everything was of the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_137'></a>137</span> +plainest; even the pulpit was built of unpainted +boards. But Hunt saw that the place was clean. +</p> +<p> +Judson furnished lamps from his stock. “We’ll +want evening meetings, too,” he said. “After we +get to going, I mean. It won’t be a bad idea to commence +running a show that will compete with the +Grub Stake and Colorado Brown’s and those other +joints. The boys drop into the saloons because +there ain’t another derned place in the town to go +to after dark.” +</p> +<p> +On Wednesday Hunt, walking toward the mines, +confronted unexpectedly the withered, baldheaded +man he had carried home over his shoulder on Sunday +morning. Sam Tubbs stopped him. +</p> +<p> +“I reckon you’re the parson, ain’t you?” he asked, +cocking his head in a birdlike way to look up at +Hunt. “My old woman is right smart anxious to +see you again. That woman’s all for this here religion +they say you are going to deal out to the +boys. Says she’s got something for you.” +</p> +<p> +“Thank you, Mr. Tubbs. I will go around and +call on her.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, you can if you like. Miz Tubbs is pretty +nigh big enough to be her own boss, and what I +say don’t affect her no more than as though I shot +my mouth off in the middle of Topaz Desert. That’s +a fact. I hear you are a pretty decent feller, as +parsons go; but I might as well tell you right now +that I ain’t—and don’t ever mean to be—a convert.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_138'></a>138</span> +</p> +<p> +“I shall like you none the less for that, Mr. +Tubbs,” said Hunt, smiling and offering his hand. +“A man must always decide for himself, you know. +I shall be glad to have you come to hear me preach; +but you need not believe a word I say unless your +own mind tells you I am right.” +</p> +<p> +“Huh!” grunted Sam, rather staggered. “That +sounds fair. Mebbe I will come to hear you—sometime. +If you last long enough.” +</p> +<p> +This opinion—that the parson would not last in +his attempt to uplift Canyon Pass—seemed to be +the view of the general run of Passonians. +</p> +<p> +He had a few very enthusiastic coworkers, however. +He found one when he went to call upon +Mother Tubbs. +</p> +<p> +“It’s been in my heart for many a long day, +Brother Hunt,” the old woman said. “This here +holding meetings, and the like. I said a long time +back I’d give a pretty if a man of God would come +in here and shake this camp like a snowslide in the +mountains. We need to get a mighty bump. Youbetcha! +</p> +<p> +“Now the time’s come, I’m just as excited as a +gal going to her first dance. I can’t make Sam enthuse +none; and I’m disappointed in Nell, I do say. +But I am going to do all I can myself to boost your +job for you.” +</p> +<p> +“Thank you, Sister Tubbs,” said the young parson. +“Is Miss Blossom here?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_139'></a>139</span> +</p> +<p> +“She’s upstairs a-dressin’. But I don’t reckon +she’ll give you much but the rough side of her +tongue. Lately, Nell seems to be bewitched. Think +of her ridin’ her pony up and down the street the +other day, shootin’ and cavortin’ like a drunken +cow-puncher! She puts on these didoes jest for +devilment. And she ain’t got a good word for you +and your plans, Brother Hunt.” +</p> +<p> +“Well,” said the parson calmly, “perhaps things +will change with her in time. We won’t worry.” +</p> +<p> +“I’m glad you can take it so calm,” said Mother +Tubbs, sniffing. “Now, come in yere. This is what +I got for you.” +</p> +<p> +She led the way into the inner room, half bedroom +and half sitting room, the principal room in the +shack. There was a small center table. On it was a +huge tome with tarnished brass clasps—a bulky volume +that had evidently seen much rough usage. +Mother Tubbs put her hand upon it proudly. +</p> +<p> +“See that, Brother Hunt?” she said. “It’s the +old Bible out of the Blue Lick Chapel down in Arkansas. +The chapel burned down when I was a +gal; but the Bible was saved. When my folks +moved out thisaway we brung it with us, and it’s +been in the bottom of an old trunk of mine for forty +year. Now it comes to light.” She opened it with +care. “I reckon you got all the Bibles you need to +work with. But I do like to see a big one like this +on the pulpit for show.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_140'></a>140</span> +</p> +<p> +“This is most thoughtful and kind of you, Sister +Tubbs,” declared Hunt, understanding the spirit of +pride and reverence in which the old woman had +offered the book. “I shall see that it rests on our +pulpit.” +</p> +<p> +At that moment Nell Blossom came into the room +from the stairway. She nodded to him bruskly, but +offered him no welcoming hand. +</p> +<p> +“I declare, Nell,” complained the old woman, +“you ain’t going out without a word to the parson, +are you?” +</p> +<p> +“I’ve no particular word for the parson,” returned +the girl, a glint of ice in her blue eyes. +</p> +<p> +“If you will allow me to say so, Miss Blossom,” +said Hunt quietly, “I have a particular word for +you.” +</p> +<p> +She stared at him angrily. He picked up his hat +from the chair. +</p> +<p> +“If you are going out,” he said, “I will walk along +with you and say what I have to say.” +</p> +<p> +“Humph! I can’t stop you from walking up +Mulligan Lane. It’s free,” returned the girl most +ungraciously and walked ahead of him out of the +house. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_141'></a>141</span><a name='chXIV' id='chXIV'></a>CHAPTER XIV—THE GREAT DAY ARRIVES</h2> +<p> +Hunt caught up with Nell Blossom when she had +passed through the gap in the barrelstave picket-fence, +and his length of stride easily kept him beside +the girl. Unless Nell broke into a run she +could scarcely leave the parson out of earshot. +</p> +<p> +“Miss Blossom,” he began, “my interference in +your affairs calls for no excuse. I have no vulgar +curiosity. You tell me to mind my own business. +But when I see another in trouble it is my business +to offer aid.” +</p> +<p> +“I am not in trouble,” she answered sharply. +Then, with scorn: “And if I was, I wouldn’t want +a parson’s help.” +</p> +<p> +“No. But a friend’s help? I assure you I am +your friend.” +</p> +<p> +She now looked at him rather curiously, but her +expression did not soften in the least. Doubt, scorn, +a real dislike of the man who sought to gain her +confidence struggled to gain the mastery of her +pretty features. +</p> +<p> +“I don’t know you, I’ve only seen you a few times. +I don’t make friends so easy——” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_142'></a>142</span> +</p> +<p> +“We don’t make friends in this world, Miss Blossom. +We win them whether we would or not. +You have won my friendly feeling because I know +that you are troubled. I know what your trouble +is, and I believe I can help you.” +</p> +<p> +His downrightness startled Nell, and she stopped +and stared at him. +</p> +<p> +“You can’t help me if I don’t want your help,” +she cried in secret panic. +</p> +<p> +“I cannot help you so much if you deny me your +confidence,” he admitted. “But I stand ready to +help you.” +</p> +<p> +“You’d better sit down,” she shot at him. “You’ll +have a long wait standing for me to get confidential +with you, Mr. Parson.” +</p> +<p> +“Consider,” said Hunt seriously, unshaken. “We +cannot any of us afford to refuse an honest offer of +sympathy and assistance.” +</p> +<p> +“What are you trying to do?” she asked with +suspicion. “Trying to squeeze something out of +me? You parsons!” +</p> +<p> +She muttered the phrase disdainfully. He put +her rudeness aside without change of countenance. +His placidity, his assurance, began to shake Nell’s +confidence in herself more than any other thing. +</p> +<p> +“I have heard something. I have seen something. +I know that if you will listen to me—perhaps accept +and follow some advice I may give you—you +will be benefited,” he said. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_143'></a>143</span> +</p> +<p> +“In what way, I should like to know?” she asked +jeeringly. +</p> +<p> +“In your heart. In your mind and conscience.” +</p> +<p> +“Well!” She was silent again for a moment, but +her face did not change in its expression, “Well, +you can talk, I reckon,” and she moved on slowly +again. “There ain’t any law against talking in +Canyon Pass—yet.” +</p> +<p> +“From the few words I heard that man, Tolley, +say to you on Sunday evening, I know that he +threatened you,” Hunt said directly. +</p> +<p> +“That beast!” +</p> +<p> +“He thinks he has knowledge that will make you +trouble if spread broadcast in the town.” +</p> +<p> +“Let him dare!” +</p> +<p> +Her face was suddenly that of a young and beautiful +fury. Hunt shook his head, saying softly: +</p> +<p> +“Killing him would not remove the cause of your +trouble, Nell Blossom.” +</p> +<p> +She turned on him again, her little fists clenched. +</p> +<p> +“How much do you know? Out with it!” she +commanded. +</p> +<p> +“I will tell you what Tolley says.” +</p> +<p> +“So you’ve been snooping and prying, have you?” +she queried, her rage almost suffocating her. +</p> +<p> +“I will tell you what Tolley says,” repeated Hunt. +And he did so calmly, dispassionately, as though he +were relating a series of common facts. “That +man’s horse was under the fall from the cliff. The +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_144'></a>144</span> +man’s body is not there—if he fell with the horse.” +Nell did not even wince, still staring into his eyes, +her own as hard as flint. “Those are all the facts +in my possession, Miss Blossom.” +</p> +<p> +She remained silent. She had recovered both +her regular breathing and her composed manner. +He could only read in her features a determination +that was adamant. +</p> +<p> +“Will you answer a few questions?” he ventured. +</p> +<p> +“Out with them!” +</p> +<p> +“What caused the horse to fall?” +</p> +<p> +“You gump! He fell because the bank gave way,” +she replied rudely. +</p> +<p> +“What became of his rider?” +</p> +<p> +“I don’t know.” +</p> +<p> +“Did you leave him at that spot?” +</p> +<p> +She waited a moment. Then, as harshly as before: +</p> +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> +<p> +“You have not seen him since? Or communicated +with him?” +</p> +<p> +“Dick Beckworth? I should say not!” +</p> +<p> +“Do you know what became of him?” +</p> +<p> +A bitter, sneering smile marred her lips. “I know +what Tolley says—that he’s in Denver.” +</p> +<p> +“Tolley proposes to deny that now,” Hunt said +softly. +</p> +<p> +“Let him. One lie is as good as another, and +Boss Tolley’s full of them.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_145'></a>145</span> +</p> +<p> +“Will you help me discover if Beckworth is +alive?” +</p> +<p> +“I tell you once for all, I don’t want anything +more to do with Dick the Devil. I don’t want to +even hear about him.” +</p> +<p> +“Then you and he quarreled?” +</p> +<p> +The mistake was fatal, and the parson knew it +the instant he had said the unwise words. But +he could not recall them. +</p> +<p> +“See here, Parson Hunt! you’re making a nuisance +of yourself. I want to tell you that no tenderfoot +will get far in Canyon Pass if he begins as +you have. I’ve got nothing to tell you. I won’t +talk to you. I don’t want a thing to do with you. +Now! Am I plain enough?” +</p> +<p> +She walked on stoutly, her head up, her cheeks +aflame. For a few yards he walked quietly beside +her. Then he lifted his hat and turned aside. When +Nell had disappeared, Hunt sadly shook his head. +</p> +<p> +“I fear,” he told himself, “that I have made a +bad beginning.” +</p> +<p> +Circumstances that followed proved that his suspicion +was correct. In less than twenty-four hours +he heard that without a doubt he had made another +enemy. +</p> +<p> +“I don’t know how it is, parson,” said Bill Judson +shaking a mournful head, “but that little devil, +Nell Blossom, is on the warpath. And she’s after +your scalp.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_146'></a>146</span> +</p> +<p> +“It is stuck on pretty tightly, Mr. Judson,” Hunt +replied with a smile. +</p> +<p> +“’Tain’t no laughing matter. Nell has a terrible +drag with the boys. If she don’t have you run out +of town, she may try to bust up your show. She +says you’re a mischief-maker, and all that. She’s +plumb down on parsons.” +</p> +<p> +“We will have to convince her that the tribe is +harmless.” +</p> +<p> +“Not much chance,” said Judson, who evidently +shared Hurley’s opinion of Nell’s obstinacy. +</p> +<p> +“Time will cure all that,” said the parson, with +more apparent confidence than he really felt. +</p> +<p> +While preparations were going forward for the +first meeting with satisfactory speed, Hunt heard +on every hand of the gathering forces of opposition. +</p> +<p> +Nell Blossom had resurrected the old song, “This +Is No Place for a Minister’s Son,” and in a ridiculous +clerical make-up sang it each night in Colorado +Brown’s place. Passing along the street to +his hotel Hunt heard the chorus roared by the men +who applauded the cabaret singer. He was met +with more jeering laughter wherever he went than +before; and he realized that ridicule would do the +good cause more harm than any other form of opposition. +</p> +<p> +Joe Hurley was very busy at the mine that week, +and he had not much to say to his friend from the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_147'></a>147</span> +East when they met. But he showed curiosity as +to what had befallen Hunt when he talked with +Nell Blossom. +</p> +<p> +“I fear I began wrong,” admitted the parson. +</p> +<p> +“I reckon however you began you wouldn’t get +far with Nell,” observed Hurley. “I’ll keep my +eye on Tolley. He’s just boiling inside. But unless +he has a gang behind him he hasn’t any more spunk +than a rabbit. Nell’s too popular—just now, especially—for +him to dare spring anything against +her. And she certainly is making herself well-beloved +with the boys from the Eureka Washings +and the other mines,” and he grinned ruefully. +</p> +<p> +“I can keep most of my own roughnecks in line. +I reckon they kind of cotton to me, and they know +I am set on this church business. But Nell certainly +holds the camp in the hollow of her hand.” +</p> +<p> +“She is wrong; but she does not realize it, perhaps,” +considered Hunt. “And yet, maybe she does +know.” +</p> +<p> +The Reverend Willett Ford Hunt might have considered, +as his sister believed at that moment, that +the outlook for successful religious work in Canyon +Pass was quite as foggy as it had been at any time +at Ditson Corners. Yet the opposition that had +developed here was nothing more than Hunt had +expected. And it was open hostility. There was +nothing hypocritical about it. +</p> +<p> +He had met Slickpenny Norris at the bank, Hunt +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_148'></a>148</span> +had opened an account there, and had invited the old +curmudgeon to take some interest in the church proposal. +He had got one large grunt from the banker, +and that was all. Norris could be as close-mouthed +as a clam when it might be to his disadvantage to +speak his mind. But he offered no encouragement +to the parson by that grunt. +</p> +<p> +Saturday evening came and those who were most +interested in the uplift of Canyon Pass gathered at +the old Tolley place to view with satisfaction and +no little pride the improvements and changes brought +about. +</p> +<p> +“Jib,” remarked Judson to Collins, having deserted +the Three Star Grocery and left it in the +care of the gangling Smithy at a very busy hour +to “take a squint” at the interior of the meeting +room, “Jib, you and Cale Mack have certainly done +yourselves proud on that pulpit.” +</p> +<p> +“Don’t praise me! Don’t praise me!” exclaimed +Collins. “I never could stand flattery. It puffs +me all up. But it’s a pretty nifty bit of work, I +do agree.” +</p> +<p> +“Yeppy,” pursued the storekeeper. “It has a +slant to one side that maybe is more the fault of +the floor than your spirit-level, Jib. And it looks +sort o’ wabbly. But barrin’ them defects, it’s what +I’d call a sightly pulpit.” +</p> +<p> +“It’s strong enough,” grunted Collins gruffly, now +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_149'></a>149</span> +not so much pleased. “I don’t reckon the parson +is going to take a maul to it, is he?” +</p> +<p> +Mother Tubbs just then entered the door. Behind +her staggered Sam, his reeling motion for once +having no connection with an alcoholic cause. Sam +Tubbs was dead sober—and quite as positively provoked. +</p> +<p> +“I snun to man!” he croaked. “Makin’ a pack-hoss +of a man thisaway! If that danged parson +wanted this yere Bible he ought’ve come and toted +it himself.” +</p> +<p> +“It’s very good of you to bring it, Mr. Tubbs,” +said Hunt, smiling and coming forward to relieve +the old man of his burden. +</p> +<p> +Hunt placed the big Bible on the pulpit. One of +the interested housewives had sent a rather handsome +linen table-scarf for a pulpit cloth, and although +it was somewhat yellowed from disuse, it +made the unpainted desk seem less bare. +</p> +<p> +They drifted in, one by one and in couples, during +the evening, these people deprived so long of the +inspiration of worship in a public sense, some bringing +hymn-books of various sorts and a few Bibles. +But Hunt had not come to Canyon Pass unprepared +on that score for church work. He had brought +with him from the East fifty hymn-books of the +more popular kind and a dozen Bibles for the use +of the congregation in general. When these had +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_150'></a>150</span> +been distributed about the benches they made, +Mother Tubbs declared, “a mighty tasty show.” +</p> +<p> +Betty was present to be introduced to the women +of the camp. Whatever her private feelings were, +the parson’s sister could be, and was on this occasion, +a very helpful assistant to her brother. If +the Passonians felt a little awkward, Betty put +them quickly at their ease. She made a most fortunate +impression on them all, and the general opinion +was “that that Eastern gal was a perfect lady.” +</p> +<p> +Joe Hurley appeared with some of the younger +men. They were all scrubbed till their faces shone, +shaved to a nicety, and their hair “slicked” and +anointed with everything Jose, the Mexican barber, +had on his shelves. +</p> +<p> +“Umph!” murmured Mother Tubbs, wrinkling +her nose appreciatively. “Certainly smells proper +good since them fellers come in yere. I never did +see why bay rum smells so much better than drinkin’ +rum. And bay rum’s the only kind of liquor +I approve of. The other I only get at second-hand—on +Sam’s breath!” +</p> +<p> +It was late in the evening, and the town was getting +lively, though it seemed not so noisy as on most +pay-nights, when they scattered from the door of +the meeting room. +</p> +<p> +Hunt and Betty were the last to go. He latched +the door behind them, but there was no thought in +his mind of locking it. That anybody would enter +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_151'></a>151</span> +the place before morning did not cross his thought. +</p> +<p> +But later in the night, when this end of Main +Street was deserted and the frolicking in the various +amusement places was continued only by a few +irrepressibles, a figure stole out of the alley beside +the old Tolley building and slipped into the room +prepared for the first Sunday service in Canyon +Pass. +</p> +<p> +Without a light in the place the intruder had +some difficulty in reaching the desk; once there, +some few moments elapsed while the uninvited visitor +climbed into the pulpit and opened carefully the +big Bible. When the book was as carefully closed +again, without the white book-marks the parson had +placed in it having been disturbed, the obtrusive one +departed. +</p> +<p> +Outside, there seemed an air of satisfaction about +the very way this unknown individual walked away. +In addition, a very determined—almost viciously +resolved-voice observed: +</p> +<p> +“There! If that impudent pulpit-pounder don’t +get his, I miss my guess!” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_152'></a>152</span><a name='chXV' id='chXV'></a>CHAPTER XV—PEP AND A LITTLE PEPPER</h2> +<p> +All Sabbaths were not fine at Canyon Pass, as +Hunt realized on opening his eyes on that important +morning. From the same open window through +which he had viewed the chaste glories of the Topaz +Range a week before, he now saw heavy, thunderous-looking +clouds wrapping the peaks and surging +down into the lower reaches of the landscape, blotting +out, as they moved on, each monument that he +had learned in this brief time of his sojourn to +know. It promised no fair day for the parson’s first +service. +</p> +<p> +This, however, was not the basis of the heaviness +that oppressed him. Hunt admitted the cause of +his heart-sick feeling without dodging the issue. It +was Nell Blossom and her attitude toward him personally +that so troubled the parson of Canyon Pass. +That she opposed the good work he was trying to inaugurate +was only a side issue in Hunt’s mind. +Opposition in general merely spurred a spirit like +his to greater effort. That is, a frank opposition. +</p> +<p> +But the minister’s personal interest in Nell +Blossom had become something that controlled him. +He could not control it. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_153'></a>153</span> +</p> +<p> +It was not right, he told himself, to do any poaching +on what he considered Joe’s preserves. Whether +or not Nell cared for the mine owner, Hunt believed +he would be disloyal to his friend if he showed anything +but the interest of a minister and religious +adviser in the young woman. +</p> +<p> +Hunt was honest enough to admit that such feeling +was not what inspired him in the matter. Nell +Blossom was not at all the kind of girl he would +have deliberately chosen as the object of a serious +affection. But who of us may choose when love +enters the lists? +</p> +<p> +The winsomeness of Nell shone through the +rough and prickly husk of her. He realized that no +man could see in all its clarity the girl’s soul. He +believed that the untaught mining-camp child, used +as she was to the rude life about her and only that +life, was really out of her natural element. Whatever +Henry Blossom, Nell’s dissolute father, may +have been, the girl’s mother had perhaps given her +child as a legacy a natural refinement scarcely to be +looked for in any person brought up in so unpolished +a community. +</p> +<p> +In short, Nell Blossom’s intrinsic worth was no +more hidden from the parson than her physical +beauty. Her hatred of and disdain for all men had +its root in no fault she had committed. Some man, +had it been that gambler Hunt had heard called +“Dick the Devil?” had disillusioned the child-heart +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_154'></a>154</span> +of Nell Blossom and, perhaps, the sweets of love +had turned to ashes in her mouth. +</p> +<p> +What had become of that gambler? What was +the truth about that tragedy at the brink of the +canyon wall? Did Tolley know the facts and misstate +them? Or was Dick Beckworth really dead +and his body swept away by the torrent of Runaway +River? +</p> +<p> +It was plain, Hunt decided, that Dick’s disappearance +weighed heavily for some cause on Nell Blossom’s +mind. Something had happened on that +spring morning weeks before which had changed +Nell from the happy-go-lucky girl the parson knew +she must have been to this bitter, disdainful, and +apparently wicked woman who scoffed at religion +in any form, and especially had “no use for a pulpit-pounder.” +</p> +<p> +In a week he had become imbued with such an +interest in Nell that she was the subject most in +his thoughts at all hours. He could not eradicate +her from his mind, though he tried hard to do so. +</p> +<p> +In his heart he scarcely supposed that the time +would ever come when he might be a suitor for +Nell’s hand. Joe Hurley stood between them. But +the Reverend Willett Ford Hunt was old enough +and wise enough to know that whatever came to him +in the future, as long as he retained his faculties, Nell +Blossom would occupy a niche in his secret heart that +no other interest could fill. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_155'></a>155</span> +</p> +<p> +Twice at night, when Betty was in bed, Hunt +had descended into the lane and, standing at the +back of Colorado Brown’s place near an open window, +listened to Nell sing her songs, even to the +caustic one with which she closed her act and in response +to which the crowd wildly roared its applause. +The verses about the minister’s son “went +big.” But there was a sweetness and power in her +singing voice that seemed to reveal the better qualities +of the girl in the more tender ballads she sang; +for all her numbers were not of a humorous nature. +She could bring tears as well as smiles to the faces +of her audience with that voice. +</p> +<p> +Betty came tapping at his door while Hunt was +still in his robe. When she saw the dark business +suit laid out on the bed she frowned. +</p> +<p> +“Ford! I did hope you would dress properly on +this day,” she said. +</p> +<p> +“I am dressing properly—for Canyon Pass,” he +returned, smiling. “I am not inclined to attract the +hearty laughter and scorn of such members of the +community as Boss Tolley, Tom Hicks, and their +ilk. Clerical garb might be considered by them as +a gratuitous insult. And the last thing I wish to do +here is to antagonize the rougher element.” +</p> +<p> +Although Betty failed to see much distinction in +the roughness of the community, she did not open +that avenue of discussion. She did say decisively: +</p> +<p> +“Why bother about those awful men, Ford? Tolley and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_156'></a>156</span> +his crowd will never, never be members of +your congregation. Maria, Sam’s wife, has been +giving me the history of those wicked men. She is +afraid of her life because of the gang that hangs +about the Grub Stake. That is a terrible institution, +and everybody in Tolley’s employ is bad.” +</p> +<p> +“And yet, Miss Rosabell Pickett, who plays the +piano for Tolley, is going to have her own piano +trucked over to the meeting room this morning and +will play the hymns herself for us. So some good +must be found at the Grub Stake,” Hunt rejoined, +still smiling. “Besides, if they are bad men, I hope +to help them.” +</p> +<p> +Cholo Sam was closing the door of his bar and +locking it when, later, Hunt and his sister came +down from their rooms. Maria, with a jetted jacket, +yellow petticoat and reboza, was waiting for her +husband. +</p> +<p> +“Señor Hunt,” said the innkeeper, flashing his +white teeth as usual, “we honor ourselfs to attend +your service, if we may? Si?” +</p> +<p> +“I’ll be glad to see you and Maria there, Sam.” +</p> +<p> +Hunt then followed Betty out of the hotel. It +had rained since sunrise, but had stopped now. They +were early for the service. The street was almost +deserted. It had been arranged by Hurley that the +whistle of the hoisting engine at the Great Hope +should be blown at a quarter to eleven and again +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_157'></a>157</span> +at five minutes of the hour. There was no other +means of summoning the Passonians to worship. +</p> +<p> +There was a roar of voices from the barroom of +the Grub Stake as the parson and his sister passed. +They crossed the street to avoid a quagmire, but +the sound of revelry followed them. It seemed that +all the other saloons and stores in sight, including +the Three Star Grocery, were somnolent. +</p> +<p> +Bill Judson joined them as they passed the grocery +store. The old man was as solemn as a bishop +and as uncomfortable as new shoes, tight light +trousers of an ancient fashion, and a stiff-brimmed +straw hat could make him. +</p> +<p> +“Hello! What’s the matter with Tolley now?” +the storekeeper exclaimed in surprise. +</p> +<p> +The owner of the Grub Stake had come tearing +out of the place, seemingly blinded by rage, and +dashed along the street. The group that boiled +out of the Grub Stake after him did not follow, but +urged him on with jeering laughter. +</p> +<p> +“What is it?” asked Betty, startled. +</p> +<p> +“Dunno,” said Judson, quickening his stride. +“But the feller’s up to something.” +</p> +<p> +They were in sight of the meeting room now. +The door stood open. When Tolley reached it +he plunged in. +</p> +<p> +Hunt would not leave Betty, but he hurried her +on, while Judson almost ran and was over the +threshold before them. There was a sudden explosion +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_158'></a>158</span> +of voices inside, Tolley’s tones high over all. +</p> +<p> +“Here’s that derned cheater now!” the owner of +the place was heard to shout as the storekeeper entered. +“Bill Judson! you think you’re mighty smart, +but you can’t put nothing like this over on me.” +</p> +<p> +“What’s eatin’ on you, Tolley?” was Judson’s +cool response. +</p> +<p> +“The boys just told me what you folks was aimin’ +to use this dump for. I didn’t hire it to you for +no church. I won’t have it, I tell you! This is +my shack.” +</p> +<p> +“And I’ve paid rent for it for six months. What +you goin’ to do about it?” drawled Judson. +</p> +<p> +“I’ll show you! I won’t let no ham-faced old-timer +like you make a fool of me.” +</p> +<p> +Hunt reached the door. Betty was almost afraid +to enter. There were several men inside and two +or three women. Tolley was striding toward the +pulpit, swinging his arms and shouting himself +hoarse. +</p> +<p> +“I’ll show you!” he shouted. “I own this dump. +I’ll throw this litter into the street. A church in my +shack? Well, I reckon not!” +</p> +<p> +The distant whistle at the Great Hope pealed its +first signal for the service. Several groups of Passonians +were visible now, converging toward the +place of worship. +</p> +<p> +“Better cool down, Tolley,” advised Judson again. +“We don’t aim to have any riot yere. This used +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_159'></a>159</span> +to be your honkytonk, and a dirty place it was. +But we reckon on running another sort of business +in it, and you can’t stop us. You’re trying to throw +sand in the gears o’ progress, as the feller said.” +</p> +<p> +“I’ll show you what I can do!” shouted Tolley, +mounting upon the pulpit platform. He whirled +about, and saw Hunt entering the room. “Here’s +that danged preacher now.” +</p> +<p> +“Mr. Tolley,” said the parson clearly, “the wicked +have been known to come to the house of God to +scoff and have remained to pray. We are going to +hold a service here in a quarter of an hour. You +are invited to join us. But if you remain, I must +ask you to be quiet.” +</p> +<p> +“Why, you derned, white-livered tenderfoot! I’ll +show you——” +</p> +<p> +He seized upon Mother Tubbs’ big Bible and +raised it as though he would fling it upon the ground. +Betty gasped. Judson started forward. But Hunt’s +voice rang loudest through the room. +</p> +<p> +“Tolley! Put that Book down!” +</p> +<p> +The compelling tone made the divekeeper pause. +He still glared, his face distorted by wrath; but, +as Joe Hurley had once said, the fellow after all +had not the courage of a rabbit. He really expected +Hunt to follow the command with the only +show of authority that went in Canyon Pass—the +display of a gun! +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_160'></a>160</span> +</p> +<p> +But the parson had made no threatening gesture. +He did not even advance down the room. +</p> +<p> +“Dang you!” yelled Tolley, and brought the Bible +down upon the pulpit with such emphasis that the +desk rocked. +</p> +<p> +The following instant his head was surrounded by +a halo of fine particles, the pungency of which was +apparent to the surprised spectators almost at once. +Tolley received the blast of powdered cayenne full +in the face and eyes! +</p> +<p> +He gasped—choked—sneezed. He sneezed again, +a most vociferous roar of sound, quite involuntary +and spasmodic. The pepper that had been sprinkled +between the leaves of the big book had in one +burst pelted Tolley with its fine grains, filling eyes, +nose, and his mouth, for that had been open to emit +another angry shout. +</p> +<p> +But now he only shouted for help between sneezes. +Tears poured down his face. He staggered blindly +down from the pulpit and begged for the open air. +</p> +<p> +Hunt was first to reach the tortured man and +led him forth. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_161'></a>161</span><a name='chXVI' id='chXVI'></a>CHAPTER XVI—LOVE AND LONGING</h2> +<p> +Even Hunt could not express sympathy for the +unhappy Tolley. But he did not join in Judson’s +laughter or the chatter of the others in the meeting +room. Tolley staggered off toward the Grub Stake, +swearing between the huge sneezes which racked him +like successive earthquake shocks. Hunt returned +inside the building. +</p> +<p> +The others were grouped near the door, and there +were weeping eyes among them. For the moment +the atmosphere in the vicinity of the pulpit was +unbearable. +</p> +<p> +Hunt drew forth a handkerchief, tied it across +his nose and mouth, and advanced to the desk. The +Bible had not been injured by Tolley’s rough action. +But the red pepper was scattered thickly upon +the linen pulpit cloth. He wrapped the book in +this cloth and carried it to a window which looked +upon the narrow lane beside the building. Hunt +opened this window; and, leaning over the low sill, +dropped the book to the ground. +</p> +<p> +He closed that window quickly; but he opened +others to ventilate the room. The damp air quickly +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_162'></a>162</span> +relieved the place of the pungent pepper. The parson +did all this quietly. He made no comment on +the incident. +</p> +<p> +But the gathering company whispered and chattered—the +women angrily, the men more than a little +inclined to be amused. +</p> +<p> +“Parson,” said Bill Judson, his eyes twinkling, +“I promised Jib Collins last night that I’d warn +you to go easy on pounding the pulpit because it +was sort o’ wabbly. I reckon ’twas Tolley I ought +t’ve warned.” +</p> +<p> +Betty explained to the woman who furnished the +pulpit cloth why it was not in evidence, and Mother +Tubbs when she arrived had to be told why the pulpit +Bible was in retirement. But there was time for +little more than that, as the second whistle blew, +and the room began to fill. +</p> +<p> +At least an audience was not lacking to hear Hunt +preach his first sermon at Canyon Pass. The seats +were comfortably filled. Most of the congregation +were cleanly and neatly dressed; the women in such +finery as they owned. But some of the men, the +rougher sort and evidently present out of curiosity +only, looked just as they did on week days. Smoking, +however, was taboo. +</p> +<p> +Rosabell Pickett and her piano, a small upright instrument +of a rather uncertain tone, was of great +assistance. Without her help the strangely awkward +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_163'></a>163</span> +congregation could scarcely have raised a +hymn. +</p> +<p> +Hunt made no comment upon the inauguration +of the new régime in the town. He conducted the +service just as he might have conducted a mission +meeting at Ditson Corners. And he preached as +carefully thought-out a discourse as was his wont, +although his theme was simple. He held their respectful +attention and, he believed, won their undivided +interest. +</p> +<p> +After the close of the service the Bible was rescued +by two of the women and cleansed of the +pepper which had been so plentifully shaken into it. +Mother Tubbs took Hunt aside. +</p> +<p> +“I’m plumb ashamed, parson!” she said indignantly. +“To think that Nell Blossom done such a +trick on you!” +</p> +<p> +“Nell Blossom?” +</p> +<p> +“She done it,” said the old woman with conviction. +“I missed my box o’ red pepper last evening; +but I had no idee what that flighty gal took +it for. And then she said when I tried to get her +to come to meetin’ this mornin’ that she reckoned +it would be too hot up yere for her, and said for +me to keep out o’ the front seats.” +</p> +<p> +“Ah!” +</p> +<p> +“She reckoned you’d get to thumping the Book +in the middle of the sermon, maybe. When Boss +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_164'></a>164</span> +Tolley hears tell how it come, he won’t love Nell +none the better, I reckon.” +</p> +<p> +The peppering of the pulpit Bible might have +made the whole of Canyon Pass roar with laughter +and have brought nothing but ridicule on the parson +had Hunt been the actual victim of Nell Blossom’s +impish trick. That Boss Tolley chanced to +suffer yielded a number of the townspeople much +amusement. But it afforded others an opportunity +to show stronger approval of what Hunt and his +coworkers were trying to do. +</p> +<p> +Then, there was a third party. It was chiefly +made up of Boss Tolley’s friends. Tolley raved +against both Hunt and Nell Blossom, and his satellites +listened and agreed with him. There began +to be whispered about Canyon Pass a story to the +effect that the absent Dick Beckworth would never +be seen by mortal eye again, that he had left town +in Nell Blossom’s company, and that the cabaret +singer, if anybody, could explain how Dick’s horse +had come to be found under a heap of fallen gravel +at the edge of Runaway River. +</p> +<p> +Joe Hurley did not chance to hear these whispers +for some time. In truth, during the weeks immediately +following that first service in Tolley’s old +shack, the owner of the Great Hope had found his +time fully occupied by two interests. The mine itself +was one, for he believed he was close upon the +unveiling of that rich vein which he had always believed +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_165'></a>165</span> +was the “mother lode” of his claim. The +second interest was in Betty Hunt. +</p> +<p> +Hurley sought the society of the Eastern girl +whenever he could do so. Hunt, who was busy himself +in several ways—especially in getting personally +acquainted with the people in their homes or +where they worked—was glad Joe could devote himself +to Betty. Otherwise his sister might have +found it very lonely here at Canyon Pass. +</p> +<p> +The girl from the East allowed Hurley’s better +qualities to impress her mind more and more. +In her company, too, the young man tried to eradicate +from his speech the vernacular that he knew +she despised. Yet when he grew interested in a +subject of conversation, or was excited, it was the +most natural thing in the world for Hurley to revert +to the vivid expressions of the cattle trail and the +camp. +</p> +<p> +Of course, no man could have prepared himself +for college without obtaining a foundation of book +education which Betty must fully approve. Occasionally +Hurley revealed a flash of wit or a literary +appreciation that delighted the girl. +</p> +<p> +These weeks of association bred in both young +people a confidence and admiration for each other +which under ordinary conditions might have foretold +the growth of a much warmer regard. Hurley +began to hope. Yet Betty gave him no such encouragement +as young women are wont to offer a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_166'></a>166</span> +man in whom they begin to feel a tender interest. +</p> +<p> +Midsummer was approaching, and the dry, rarified +air of Canyon Pass sometimes seemed a blast +from an open furnace. But when they rode, as they +often did, out upon the heights—above the canyon, +for instance—there was always a cooler and more +pleasantly odorous breeze. +</p> +<p> +In one of their earlier rides the two had jogged +the entire length of the canyon on the east bank of +Runaway River, and even a little way into the +desert, far enough to mark the shallow basin where +the last trickle of what was at Canyon Pass a boisterous +torrent disappeared in the alkali. +</p> +<p> +But Betty did not admire even the look of the +desert country. There was something horrible to +her mind in the appearance of the dreary waste. +She had never seen the Topaz at sunrise! +</p> +<p> +When they mounted to the highlands west of the +camp, as they did on this present day, there were half +a dozen trails they might strike into a country which +would reveal beautiful as well as rugged prospects, +and to these Betty could grant admiration. She +had begun very soon to feel the splendors of nature +which were so different here from those of her +native Berkshires. +</p> +<p> +There was a forest that always intrigued her. +The trail led them down cathedral aisles to the bank +of a murmurous stream. To this they journeyed +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_167'></a>167</span> +to-day; and, when within sound of the river, Betty +drew her mount to a stand. +</p> +<p> +“It is beautiful, Mr. Hurley,” she sighed. “I +do not wonder that you so love this out-of-door life +and this wilderness. And then you have always been +used to it. It does make a difference where one is +born.” +</p> +<p> +“You said it!” returned Hurley emphatically. +“I pretty near stifle when I get into a city and have +to stay a spell. When I get back to this I feel like +a boy again.” He smiled reflectively. “The bard +of ‘Cactus Center’ hits off my feelings to a fare-ye-well,” +and he proceeded to repeat from “The +Forester’s Return:” +</p> +<p> + “‘I’m back on the job by the singing river,<br /> + Far from the town with its money-mad,<br /> + Back where the quaking aspens quiver—<br /> + And I’m glad.<br /> + <br/> + There’s work to do and there’s work in plenty,<br /> + And it’s sleep in the open if fate so wills;<br /> + But no man is more than one-and-twenty<br /> + In the hills.’”<br /> +</p> +<p> +“That is fine!” Betty cried with enthusiasm, her +eyes sparkling as they seldom did. “Why, I can +almost feel that way myself, sometimes.” +</p> +<p> +There was a drop in her tone at the end. She +looked away and, had he been able to see into her +eyes then, he would have beheld a much different +expression in their dimmed depths. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_168'></a>168</span> +</p> +<p> +“You’d feel like it always if you’d just let yourself, +Miss Betty,” Hurley said, with sudden warmth. +</p> +<p> +She smiled a little doubtfully, but turned toward +him again, having recovered her composure. Joe’s +eyes glowed and a strange pallor rose under his tan. +</p> +<p> +“Just think of living out here all your days and +enjoying every moment of them! It’s rough, I +know, and sort of untamed. But it’s a good life, +Miss Betty—a wonderful life!” +</p> +<p> +“You—you almost convince me,” she stammered, +laughing a little uncertainly, yet gazing at him with +a dawning light in her eyes that Joe had not seen +there before. +</p> +<p> +It emboldened him; it inspired him to speak the +words that were boiling under the surface of his +calm. He was a forthright fellow at best, was Joe +Hurley, and he was very, very much in love with +Betty Hunt. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_169'></a>169</span><a name='chXVII' id='chXVII'></a>CHAPTER XVII—A BATTLE IN A GIRL’S HEART</h2> +<p> +“Betty, I want to tell you something,” he said, +unconsciously urging Bouncer nearer to the girl’s +mount. “These weeks you have been here at Canyon +Pass have been the greatest in my life.” +</p> +<p> +The girl looked at him in a startled way. +</p> +<p> +“This is a big country, it is true. Big things are +done out here—great accomplishments achieved—fortunes +won. And I have always meant to do my +part in it—both as to making money and winning +the better things of life for myself. I want to see +things that are already started, developed, to watch +Canyon Pass grow—in a spiritual as well as a material +sense. +</p> +<p> +“But something else has got hold of me, Betty. +I was living a pretty wild life before you and Willie +came out here. I wrote him I was. I kind of +gloried in being a roughneck, I reckon,” he added +with a wry smile. “But all that’s changed with me +now, Betty—since you came.” +</p> +<p> +“Mr. Hurley—Joe!” gasped the girl. +</p> +<p> +But he raised his hand gently in protest. The +gesture asked her to wait—to hear him through. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_170'></a>170</span> +</p> +<p> +“I’ve got another object in life—another reason +for working and striving. I reckon a man never +does know quite what he’s aimin’ to do until he +sets a mark before him that isn’t altogether selfish. +I want to get ahead just as much as ever—more so. +But I want to accomplish what I’m aimin’ at for +something higher than just the satisfaction of seeing +the Great Hope pay big and know that folks say +Joe Hurley has made a ten-strike!” +</p> +<p> +“You—you will be successful, Joe,” she murmured. +</p> +<p> +“That’s up to you, I reckon,” the man said abruptly. +“I’m aimin’ to accomplish all this—winning +a fortune, helping to put Canyon Pass on the map, +and all—for you, Betty. Just for you.” +</p> +<p> +“Mr. Hurley! Joe! Don’t!” the girl suddenly +exclaimed. +</p> +<p> +Her face had grown rosy when she began to understand +fully what he was coming to, and then it +paled. As she listened to his final outburst the +grieved expression that contracted her lips and +dimmed her eyes shocked him. Before she could +speak he knew what answer he was to receive. +</p> +<p> +“Don’t say anything more—please!” she begged. +“It’s all wrong. I never thought this—this would +happen. Why, I thought we were just friends.” +</p> +<p> +“Betty!” ejaculated the man in a tone that wrung +the girl’s heart. “Betty, haven’t I got a chance with +you? I know I’m not worthy——” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_171'></a>171</span> +</p> +<p> +“Oh! Oh! Don’t put it that way, Joe,” she +pleaded. “It really isn’t that!” +</p> +<p> +“What’s the matter with me then?” he demanded. +“Do you want time to think it over? Or—wait! +Betty, is—is it because you left some one back +East?” +</p> +<p> +The girl was silent. She turned her head so that +he might not see her face. But Hurley waited. She +had to answer—and the halting word was uttered +as though it were wrenched from her. +</p> +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> +<p> +Hurley drew in his breath sharply, and then he +was likewise silent. A minute dragged by. She +stole a glance at him at last. He was staring steadily +at her left hand. She had removed her glove, +and the hand rested bare upon her pony’s neck. +Suddenly her face flamed again. +</p> +<p> +“Oh! I do not wear his—his ring,” she said +hoarsely. “There—there is a reason. I——” +</p> +<p> +“I am not prying into your private affairs, Miss +Betty,” Hurley said quickly. “Only—I am sorry +I did not know before. Willie never said a word +to warn me.” +</p> +<p> +“He does not know!” ejaculated the girl. “I—I +do not want him to know.” +</p> +<p> +“He won’t learn it from me. Don’t fear,” said +Hurley rather roughly. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Mr. Hurley! I am so—so sorry,” whispered +the girl. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_172'></a>172</span> +</p> +<p> +The man, with drooping shoulders and hanging +head, sat his horse, a statue of disappointment. He +did not move or look at her, as she wheeled her own +mount. +</p> +<p> +“I—I think I would like to ride back alone, Mr. +Hurley. You—you won’t mind? Afterward I hope +we may be quite as good friends as heretofore. I +do appreciate your friendship—Joe.” +</p> +<p> +Betty could not easily miss the way back. The +trail was perfectly plain. She rode fast at first, for +with all her sorrow for Joe Hurley’s disappointment, +she could not bear him near her now. +</p> +<p> +Because she had no thought of ever considering +him other than a friend, the girl, who was after all +quite inexperienced, had not dreamed Hurley would +come to regard her warmly. She could not understand +how it had happened. It seemed unbelievable! +</p> +<p> +Love—romance; a lover—happiness; these things +were not for Betty Hunt. She had long ago told +herself this. She was devoted to one man only, her +brother. And when he would no longer need her, +if that time ever came, she expected to follow a +lonely trail. +</p> +<p> +It was not merely Joe Hurley that she could not +marry. She could not marry any man. +</p> +<p> +She came out of the majestic forest and reached +the open stretch of the trail from Hoskins. This +she followed toward the wagon track which edged +the brink of the Overhang. She had brought her +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_173'></a>173</span> +pony to a quieter pace and jogged along, deep in +her unhappy thoughts. Suddenly, turning a clump +of brush, she quite involuntarily drew in her pony +and halted. There was a rider on the trail ahead +of her, a stranger. +</p> +<p> +It was for only a moment that Betty saw him. +Horse and rider were plunging down a steep declivity +beside the trail into a thick copse. Had he +heard her pony and was he seeking to escape observation? +The girl was impressed with this possibility. +</p> +<p> +She rode on again, but very cautiously. She held +a firm grip upon her pony’s rein. Suppose the +stranger should suddenly spur his horse into the +trail again and halt her? From the moment her +brother had decided to come West, and she knew +she must attend him, Betty had been fearful of just +such a meeting as she visualized now. +</p> +<p> +She half turned her mount, tempted to fly back +toward the river and Joe. There was something +very comforting in the thought of Joe’s nearness. +Perhaps, if she waited here, he would overtake her. +At least, he might come into sight. +</p> +<p> +Then the thought entered her disturbed mind that +possibly Hurley had gone home another way. He +knew the country well. He might not follow the +only trail she knew by which to reach Canyon Pass. +</p> +<p> +With this to spur her, the girl urged her mount +forward. No use in waiting. The place must be +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_174'></a>174</span> +passed. She could see no movement of the brush +where the stranger and his horse had disappeared. +But she felt that he was there! +</p> +<p> +Again she gathered up the pony’s reins and held +them firmly. She gripped her whip, too, and prepared +for a dash. But she continued to walk her +horse. +</p> +<p> +She was on the <em>qui vive</em> for a quick start. Her +eyes searched the brush in the little ravine. Suddenly +she saw something that was not vegetation. +</p> +<p> +She rode on, but she was more and more disturbed +by this object at the edge of the brush. Then, +of a sudden, she realized what it was. It was the +upper part of a man’s face. The hatbrim covered +all his hair and cut off much of his forehead; a +branch hid all below the point of his nose. +</p> +<p> +And yet this patch of face shocked Betty. It +seemed that she recognized it! Was it—could it +be—— +</p> +<p> +The blood pounded in her temples; her eyes were +suffused. At that moment she could not have +spurred her pony had the lurker in the brush sprung +forth into her path! +</p> +<p> +Then he moved. She gained a clear glimpse of +his entire face before he dodged again out of sight. +His hair rolled upon the collar of his shirt and he +wore a mustache, but no beard. Betty felt sudden +relief. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_175'></a>175</span> +</p> +<p> +“It is never Wilkenson—never!” she murmured. +“Never him!” +</p> +<p> +She knew that her terror had been born in her +own mind rather than of any external danger. The +man was nothing to her—no one she had ever seen. +She rode on finally with a sudden access of courage—a +feeling that often comes to one when a peril +has been successfully surmounted. +</p> +<p> +Indeed when, a little later and in sight of the +broader wagon-track, she heard the pattering hoofs +behind her she was not startled. At first she thought +it was Joe Hurley. Then she recognized the fact +that there was more than one horse coming. Even +at that she felt confidence. +</p> +<p> +She turned to look, and saw three roughly dressed +fellows pounding along the trail on tired and sweating +steeds. One of the men had an authoritative +air. It was he who addressed her, sweeping off his +hat in the same way that Joe Hurley was wont to +offer greeting. +</p> +<p> +“I say, miss,” said the man, “have you seen a +feller riding this yere way—couldn’t be long ago? +Mebbe an hour?” +</p> +<p> +“What—what man?” she hesitated. “I rode +along here some time ago with Mr. Joe Hurley——” +</p> +<p> +“Shucks, ma’am! I ain’t after him,” replied the +man. “I know Joe mighty well. And if you are a +friend of his, you pass. I’m the sheriff of Cactus +County, and me and my deputies are after a yaller +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_176'></a>176</span> +hound that bamfoozled some honest men out of +their hard earnings. He’s got the gold, and we want +both him and it! We been trailing him two days.” +</p> +<p> +Betty trembled so inwardly that she could say +nothing; but luckily the sheriff did not consider there +was anything she could say. +</p> +<p> +“If you and Joe Hurley come along from Canyon +Pass, you’d have seen this feller, if he’d gone that +way. And I’m mighty sure he wouldn’t aim for +the Pass. I reckon, boys, Lamberton is our best +bet. Good-day to ye, ma’am.” +</p> +<p> +He removed his hat again, and the other two did +the same. But they did not ride south at the fork +of the trail without casting back more than one +admiring glance at the trim figure and quietly beautiful +face of Betty Hunt. +</p> +<p> +She cantered away on the Canyon Pass trail. She +had something else to think of now. By keeping +silent had she aided a thief to escape the hands of +justice? But, then, perhaps she had saved a man’s +life as well! +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_177'></a>177</span><a name='chXVIII' id='chXVIII'></a>CHAPTER XVIII—THE SHADOW ON BETTY’S PATH</h2> +<p> +It was still a beautiful summer morning, but its +charm was quite lost for Betty Hunt. Her appreciation +of the beautiful in nature was submerged +by what had so overwhelmed her heart and her +thought. +</p> +<p> +The thing which had been so long hidden in her +mind—that secret which had changed Betty so desperately +at the end of her schooldays—had risen to +the surface again. +</p> +<p> +But she had not gone far when something arose +that made Betty wish she had not left Joe Hurley +beside the singing river. Her staid old pony began +to limp. +</p> +<p> +She was a good rider, but she had not the first +idea what to do when a horse went lame, except to +get down and relieve the poor creature of her weight. +But she was much too far from Canyon Pass to +walk and lead the hobbling pony. +</p> +<p> +The wise old cow pony made much of the affliction, +and when Betty tried to urge it on the limping +horse was a pitiful sight indeed. Betty had never +been taught the proper way to pick up a horse’s foot +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_178'></a>178</span> +to examine it for a stone in the frog; but the pony +lifted the crippled member in such a way that the +girl managed to get at it. The stone was there, a +sharp-edged flint wedged into the frog, but the girl +had no instrument with which to get it out. +</p> +<p> +Fortuitous circumstances do happen elsewhere besides +in bald romance. Unlooked-for help appeared +in this moment of Betty’s need. She looked up to +see Nell Blossom on her cream-colored pony galloping +along the wagon track, coming from the direction +of Canyon Pass. The cabaret singer glanced +at the dismounted girl, nodded, and would have gone +right by, but she chanced to see the pony limp on a +yard or two. +</p> +<p> +“What’s the matter with that hoss?” demanded +Nell, reining in her own pony with both skill and +promptness. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Miss Blossom,” cried Betty, “there’s a stone +in his foot, and I can’t get it out.” +</p> +<p> +“Where’s your side partner?” asked Nell, getting +slowly down. “That Joe Hurley oughtn’t to let you +tenderfoots out of his sight. Not on the open +trail.” +</p> +<p> +Betty recognized the measure of scorn in this remark, +but she was in no position to resent it. She +said as casually as she could: +</p> +<p> +“Mr. Hurley stayed behind for something. He +may not even come back this way. I really do not +know what to do for the poor creature.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_179'></a>179</span> +</p> +<p> +“Meanin’ Joe, or the hoss?” and the blue eyes +danced suddenly with mischief. +</p> +<p> +“The poor pony.” +</p> +<p> +“Get the stone out,” Nell said, picking up the +pony’s foot. +</p> +<p> +“It is wedged in tightly—that stone.” +</p> +<p> +Nell drew from the pocket of her abbreviated +skirt a jackknife that would have delighted the heart +of any boy. With an implement in this she removed +the stone in a twinkling. +</p> +<p> +“There!” Nell said. “Let him rest here a minute, +and he’ll be all right. The old four-flusher! He +isn’t hurt a mite, but he’d like to have you think so,” +and she slapped the pony resoundingly. +</p> +<p> +“I’m awfully much obliged to you, Miss Blossom.” +</p> +<p> +“No need to be. And no need to call me ‘Miss.’” +</p> +<p> +“Oh—well—Nell, if you like it better,” Betty +rejoined with a most disarming smile. “I thank +you.” +</p> +<p> +“That’s all right,” said Nell in her brusque, but +not altogether unfriendly, way. “I say, Miss Hunt!” +</p> +<p> +Betty interrupted with: “Betty, if you please, +Nell.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh! All right,” the singer said, the more +friendly light sparkling in her eyes again. “What +I wanted to ask you is, is that suit you got on really +what they all wear in the East?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes. Since nearly every one rides astride now, +the habit is made mannish.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_180'></a>180</span> +</p> +<p> +“Well, I’ve straddled a hoss ever since I can +remember, but I never seen anything but a skirt and +bloomers or a divided skirt like this on women before. +But I must say them things you wear are +plumb fetching.” +</p> +<p> +Betty was amused. But she had reason for feeling +kindly toward Nell Blossom. +</p> +<p> +“You could easily cut over that corduroy skirt +you wear into a pair of breeches like these,” she +suggested. +</p> +<p> +“You reckon so?” asked Nell with eagerness. +“I’d like that a pile. But I don’t know——” +</p> +<p> +“I could show you. We could cut a pattern. +Has anybody in town a sewing machine?” +</p> +<p> +“Sure thing. Mother Tubbs has got one. And I +can run up a seam as good as she can.” +</p> +<p> +“I’ll tell you,” proposed Betty with real interest. +“You ride back to the hotel with me, and we’ll cut +the pattern out of a newspaper.” +</p> +<p> +Through such seemingly unimportant incidents as +this the trend of great affairs are sometimes changed. +Had Nell ridden on she might have seen the same +fugitive Betty had noticed hiding in the chaparral. +But Nell was easily persuaded to attend the parson’s +sister to the Wild Rose. +</p> +<p> +The two girls, who seemed to have so little in +common, after all found much, besides the dressmaking +plans, in each other to afford them interest. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_181'></a>181</span> +</p> +<p> +It was Nell’s strangely sweet voice that pleased +Betty most. Even when the Western girl said the +rudest things, her voice caressed one’s ear. And +Betty began to realize that Nell’s “rudeness” was +born of frankness and a certain bashfulness. Most +bashful people are abrupt, at times quite startling, +in speech. In another place, among other people, +Nell Blossom would have betrayed timidity and hesitation. +But, as she would have said, she would not +have “got far” in Canyon Pass by yielding to any +secret shrinking from her associates. +</p> +<p> +“A girl’s got to keep her own end up in a place +like this. They all root for me and clap me on and +off the stage. But I’ve got to fight my own battles,” +pursued the singer. “Men are like wolves, Betty. +The pack will foller a leader so long as that leader +keeps ahead. When the leader goes plumb lame +and falls behind, they eat him.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh!” +</p> +<p> +“I’m popular with the boys. They’re strong for +me just now. But ’twouldn’t take much to make ’em +turn on me. I know ’em!” she concluded grimly. +</p> +<p> +She knew a great many things, it was evident, +of which Betty Hunt was ignorant. When the +cabaret singer went away with her pattern she left +Betty much to ponder about, which did not fundamentally +deal with Nell Blossom’s problems. +</p> +<p> +When Nell had gone a grimmer shadow overcame +Betty’s mind—a shadow that had lain athwart +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_182'></a>182</span> +her path since that bitter season just preceding the +death of her Aunt Prudence Mason and Betty’s +withdrawal from boarding school. +</p> +<p> +The events of those last weeks at Grandhampton +Hall were etched so deeply upon Betty’s memory +that they could not be effaced. She believed that +they never would be. +</p> +<p> +And on this day all had been rubbed raw again +by Joe Hurley’s outbreak. If he had only not spoken +as he had! If things had only gone on between +Betty and him as they had been going—calmly, +quietly; yes, she confessed it now, really pleasantly. +</p> +<p> +She had come to think of the mining man’s attention +as an undoubted aid to her placid life. Her +rides with him, and their association in other ways, +their conversations on various subjects had been of +greater moment in establishing her peace of mind +than Betty had realized. +</p> +<p> +She faced that fact—alone in her own room now—with +fuller appreciation of what Joe Hurley had +come to mean to her. +</p> +<p> +She was an utterly honest girl. She had faced a +terrible and soul-racking situation before and come +to a decision which she had held to through all the +months since she had left school. +</p> +<p> +Just what did Joe Hurley mean to Betty Hunt? +</p> +<p> +Her first half-fear of Joe, a real dislike of his +presumed character, had melted before a broader +understanding of the man and his aims. Joe was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_183'></a>183</span> +her brother’s friend and the chief supporter of +Hunt’s earnest work among these people. First of +all Betty had begun to like Joe because he so generously +aided the parson. +</p> +<p> +Her appreciation of the underlying strata of Joe’s +character had grown from day to day of personal +association with him. He was a man who would +ultimately achieve big things. She felt this to be +his dominant trait. Yet he had tenderness, generosity, +wit, and a measure of “book learning” of +which last she eagerly approved. +</p> +<p> +Under ordinary conditions—Betty Hunt admitted +this frankly now—she would have been as strongly +attracted by Joe Hurley, once she had got over her +first doubt of his surface qualities, as by any young +man she had ever associated with. +</p> +<p> +She did not question her own judgment in Joe’s +case, no matter how far wrong the unsophisticated +school girl had been to give her heart into the keeping +of another who had seemed a much more charming +man! +</p> +<p> +Andy Wilkenson—sophisticated, smiling, tender, +with all the graces of person and intellect that any +young girl could wish—had set himself to win Betty +Hunt. His intentions had been perfectly honorable, +in the sense thus used. +</p> +<p> +Andy had urged marriage—an immediate, if secret, +marriage—from the very first. And there was +reason for secrecy. Betty wished to finish her course +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_184'></a>184</span> +at Grandhampton Hall. Aunt Prudence must not +know of this great, new thing that had come into +Betty’s life. Even Ford must not be told. +</p> +<p> +For, after all, the girl realized that she was very +young—much younger, even, it seemed, than Andy +Wilkenson. Andy was so much more sensible than +she! +</p> +<p> +Betty feared she could not keep her mind sufficiently +on her studies to stand well at the end of +the semester if she was not utterly sure of Andy. +Once married to him, of course, Andy would be hers +entirely! No other woman could ever mean anything +to him if the unsuspicious, broken-down old +minister in a neighboring town joined them in holy +bonds. +</p> +<p> +Aunt Prudence would forgive her when it was all +over and she went home with her diploma and her +marriage certificate in her trunk. It would be absolutely +wicked to disturb poor Aunt Prudence by a +letter either announcing the engagement, which was +for a very brief term, or her marriage. For Betty’s +elderly relative was ill—worse than either Betty or +her brother dreamed of at the time. +</p> +<p> +The opportunities Betty had to be with Andy +were not many. The rules of the Hall were very +strict. Even her introduction to the young man +from the West had been clandestine. Unknown to +Betty, Wilkenson, learning all he could about certain +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_185'></a>185</span> +girls in her set at the school, had selected Betty Hunt +deliberately as his mark. +</p> +<p> +Betty’s school fees were paid by an old aunt who +was reputed very rich. The aunt was known to be +devoted to her. All that she had was sure to be +Betty’s when Aunt Prudence died. Wilkenson had +even gone so far as to learn much more particularly +about the state of Aunt Prudence Mason’s +health than Betty herself knew. +</p> +<p> +One item only escaped Andy Wilkenson’s cunning +mind. It was not until they had been married and +Wilkenson was driving Betty back to the Hall by +unfrequented roads late in the afternoon that the +small but appalling oversight on his part broke upon +his understanding. +</p> +<p> +“You know, girlie, I haven’t got much money. I +came East yere”—how Betty had loved that drawl +then—“to get me a stake. I did a fool thing and +threw away—just threw away—my bank roll out in +Crescent City.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, <em>money</em>!” replied Betty with fine scorn. “You +can go to work at something, Andy, and earn more.” +</p> +<p> +“Ye-as,” he agreed in a tone that might have +revealed a good deal to a more sophisticated person +than the girl who had so recently been Betty Hunt, +“so I can. But I may not make any good connection +before you get out of that school. And then I’d +like us to go back West. I’m known out there. A +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_186'></a>186</span> +man can always do better in his own stamping-grounds.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, the West must be wonderful,” murmured +Betty, with clasped hands. +</p> +<p> +“Yep. But no place is wonderful unless you’ve +got a good stake. Now, how about it, Betty? This +old aunt of yours is pretty well fixed, eh?” +</p> +<p> +The girl was startled. “Wealthy? I think so. +Aunt Prudence has been very kind to me.” +</p> +<p> +“She’ll keep on being kind to you, I reckon?” +</p> +<p> +“Of course! The dear soul. You’ll just love +her, Andy.” +</p> +<p> +“Maybe. But I don’t think I’ll risk trying her +out. Not just yet. She’s pretty sick, anyway, +isn’t she?” +</p> +<p> +Betty told him that Aunt Prudence was feeble. +The girl did not know at that time how serious +the woman’s malady was. Only on the day following +did the telegram come recalling her to Amberly! +</p> +<p> +“Anyway,” Wilkenson observed, after some +thought, “you’re her heir, Betty.” For a second time +the girl was startled by his speech. She began to +peer at him now in the dusk in a puzzled fashion. +</p> +<p> +“What I’m aimin’ at,” said Wilkenson quite +calmly, “is that we’d better keep all this quiet until +Auntie goes over the divide. No use stirring up +possible objections. She’ll leave you her money, +you say. We’ll take that money and go back West. +I know a place I can buy in Crescent City that will +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_187'></a>187</span> +pay big returns. I will let the pasteboards alone, +myself. I always get foolish if I deal ’em wild +instead of for the house. We’ll cut a swath out +there, Betty, that’ll make ’em sit up and take notice. +Sure thing!” +</p> +<p> +“Andy! What are you talking about?” asked the +incredulous girl. “Auntie’s money—— It’s all invested. +I know it is. It’s tied up.” +</p> +<p> +“Shucks! we can untie it,” and Wilkenson laughed. +“No banker’s knots mean much to me. And four +or five per cent. interest ain’t a patch on what I’ll +make for you when we get to going.” +</p> +<p> +“But, Andy,” she said weakly, “I know all about +Auntie’s will. I have even read it. She made it +years ago when Ford and I were little. And she +is a woman who never changes her mind. Ford has +papa’s little fortune. Aunt Prudence gives me her +property; but I can spend only the income from it +until I am thirty.” +</p> +<p> +“What’s that?” His tone made her jump. +“Thirty?” Then he thought. “Well, shucks, +honey,” he drawled, “you’re a married woman now. +That makes you practically of age in this State, and +the courts——” +</p> +<p> +“It makes no difference, Andy. The will is made +that way for that very purpose,” the girl said frankly. +</p> +<p> +“For what purpose?” +</p> +<p> +“So that—that my husband cannot touch the principal. +Until I am thirty I cannot touch it myself.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_188'></a>188</span> +</p> +<p> +An oath—a foul, blistering expression—parted the +man’s lips. In the deepening gloom of the evening +she could see his face change to a mask of indignant +disappointment. She did not shrink from him. She +did not plead with him. In that dragging minute, +Andy had stopped the car with a jerk, Betty understood +everything about this Westerner. And from +that instant had germinated and grown all the hatred +and fear of the West and its people that Betty Hunt +had betrayed when first her brother had suggested +the journey to Canyon Pass. +</p> +<p> +She had stepped out of the car. She had torn +in small pieces the paper the old minister had given +her. She had drawn from her finger the plain band +Wilkenson had placed upon it, which she must have +hidden in any case, and thrown it from her into +the bushes beside the way. +</p> +<p> +Then Betty Hunt had commanded Andrew Wilkenson +never to speak to her again—never to try to +see, write, or otherwise communicate with her. She +walked away from him. She heard the roar of the +engine after a moment and knew he turned the car +and drove away. +</p> +<p> +And that had been the end of Betty’s romance. +She had not seen the Westerner again. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_189'></a>189</span><a name='chXIX' id='chXIX'></a>CHAPTER XIX—A GOOD DEAL OF A MAN</h2> +<p> +During the ensuing weeks the cabaret singer went +often to see Betty at the hotel. They even rode together, +for Joe Hurley suddenly became so busy at +the Great Hope Mine that he was forced to excuse +himself, so he said, from accompanying the Eastern +girl on those pleasant jaunts which both had so enjoyed. +</p> +<p> +The two girls actually enjoyed each other’s society +and found more than a riding habit in which to +feel a mutual interest. The friendship grew out of +a hunger in the hearts of both Nell and Betty. +</p> +<p> +The parson did not make a third in their rambles, +nor was he often in sight when Nell called on Betty. +The latter would not have encouraged any intimacy +between the mining-camp girl and Hunt under any +circumstances. She did not dream that her brother +felt more than passing interest in the half-wild Nell. +</p> +<p> +The latter never attended the services held in Tolley’s +old dance hall. But the Passonians in general +came to accept the religious exercises as an institution +and supported them fairly in point of contributions +and attendance. There was yet, however, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_190'></a>190</span> +strong opposition to the parson and his work. Nor +did it all center around Boss Tolley. +</p> +<p> +Nell, soon after the beginning of her acquaintance +with Betty, stopped singing “This Is No Place for a +Minister’s Son” and took up no other ditty aimed +in any particular at the Reverend Willett Ford Hunt +and his work. +</p> +<p> +As for Hunt himself, he went forward, accepting +both praise and blame with equal equanimity. But +he began to be worried secretly about Joe Hurley. +</p> +<p> +Hunt supplemented the morning preaching with +a Sunday school in the afternoon and a general +service in the evening, at which he usually gave a +helpful talk on more secular lines than his morning +sermon. +</p> +<p> +Hunt would have been glad to have had more and +better singing; but although Rosabell Pickett did +her best, the song service was far from satisfactory. +The parson never passed Colorado Brown’s place in +the evening and heard Nell’s sweet voice that he was +not covetous. He would never be satisfied—but he +whispered this not even to Betty—until he heard that +voice leading his congregation in the meeting room. +</p> +<p> +The rougher element that had at first attended the +meetings mainly out of curiosity soon drifted away. +</p> +<p> +Hunt was not, however, above carrying his work +out into the highways and byways of the town. If +the men would not come to his services, he carried a +measure of his helpful efforts to them. He did +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_191'></a>191</span> +more than visit the homes of Canyon Pass. He went, +especially at the noon hour, to where the men were +at work. +</p> +<p> +Hunt never made himself offensive. He did not +join the workmen at the mines or washings as a +parson, but as another man, interested in their labor +and in themselves. +</p> +<p> +Once a mule-drawn ore wagon broke down on the +road to the ore-crushers. It blocked the way of +other teams. The parson took off his coat, helped +raise the wagon-body so the axle could be blocked, +and aided in getting on another wheel in place of the +broken one. +</p> +<p> +A man working alone in a ditch some distance +from the Oreode was so unfortunate as to bring a +rock down and get caught by the leg. His shouts +for help were first heard by Hunt, who was striding +along the wagon track. Without other aid the parson +pried up the rock and drew the man out from +under it. Then he carried the fellow, with his +lacerated leg, to his shack, where he lived with his +partner; and between the partner and Hunt the injured +man was nursed as long as he needed attention +at all. +</p> +<p> +This incident was the spark that started the idea +of the hospital for Canyon Pass in Hunt’s mind. +He began to talk hospital to everybody, even to +Slickpenny Norris. The banker threw up his hands +and began to squeal at last. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_192'></a>192</span> +</p> +<p> +“That’s just it! That’s just it!” he cried. “I +knew one thing would lead to another if a parson +come into this town. I told that crazy Joe Hurley +so. He had no business ever to have brought you +here.” +</p> +<p> +“What has my coming to Canyon Pass got to do +with it?” Hunt asked mildly. “The need of a hospital—there +are always accidents happening at the +mines—was here long before I came. If a man is +hurt badly he dies before help can get here. Doctor +Peterby is no surgeon—and you know, Mr. Norris, +he is not always to be trusted. This towns needs a +place where an injured man can get surgical treatment +and proper nursing.” +</p> +<p> +“I don’t see why,” muttered Norris. “We were +getting along quite well enough before you butted +in.” +</p> +<p> +Hurley, however, agreed with his friend. In spite +of the fact that he seemed to have “fallen from grace” +a good bit, the owner of the Great Hope was strong +for all secular improvement of the town, whatever +may have been his private emotions regarding the +religion that Hunt represented. The movement for +a hospital took form and grew. +</p> +<p> +It was not these things, however, that endeared +Hunt to the hearts of the rougher element of Canyon +Pass. And in time—and that before fall—some of +the toughest hard-rock men and muckers working in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_193'></a>193</span> +the mines and at the Eureka Washings openly praised +the Reverend Willett Ford Hunt. +</p> +<p> +Hunt one noon had given the men who gathered +in a quiet place to eat their lunches a little talk on +first aid to the injured. He had sent to Denver for +several first-aid kits and was now going about from +mine to mine explaining the more important uses of +the articles in the box. +</p> +<p> +The men understood the helpfulness of this. Neglected +wounds meant blood-poisoning, one of the +most painful scourges a prospector or miner working +far beyond the reach of surgeon and hospital, +can have. It was well to know, too, how to make +a proper tourniquet, and how to lay a bandage so +that it would hold well. +</p> +<p> +The whistle blew and the great engine was started. +The men drifted away to their several jobs. There +were three pipes at work tearing down the bank on +the upper bench at the Eureka Washings, and others +below. The force of the water thrown from the +nozzles of these pipes rocked the mighty hydraulic +“guns” and caused the men astride of them to hold +on with both hands. It took a husky fellow to guide +that stream spouting from between his knees. +</p> +<p> +Hunt had returned the kit to the superintendent’s +office and climbed to the upper bench, intending to +go over the highland to the Great Hope Mine, which +was nearer the West Fork River. Hi Brownell, +who straddled the middle gun up here, risked waving +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_194'></a>194</span> +a cordial hand at the parson when he saw the +latter departing. The noise of the hurtling streams +drowned Hi’s voice, of course. +</p> +<p> +Just as Hunt returned a smiling salute to the +young fellow—one in whom the parson was deeply +interested, for Hi was really a worth-while boy—the +accident happened that was fated to mark this day +as one long to be remembered at Canyon Pass. Incidentally +the occasion, more than any other one +thing, brought about the establishment of the new +hospital. +</p> +<p> +The whine and splash of the streams of water +drowned most other sounds. But of a sudden, as +Hunt was turning his back on the scene, he heard a +sharp crack—a sound that would have penetrated the +thunderous rumble of a railroad train. +</p> +<p> +Hunt wheeled. He saw Hi Brownell thrown high +into the air as though from a viciously bucking +broncho, come down sprawling, and the savage +stream from his pipe strike the man and carry him, +as though he were a leaf on a torrent, into the cavity +in the bank, against which the nozzle of the pipe +was aimed. +</p> +<p> +The flapping limbs and struggling torso of Brownell +were visible for a moment only; then down upon +the spot roared soil, gravel, and larger stones, of +which the bank’s strata were built. +</p> +<p> +Unguided, the shooting stream from the gun +swept first one way along the bench, then the other. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_195'></a>195</span> +It corrugated the face of the bank deeply for yards +in either direction. For a moment Hunt saw again +the struggling body of the injured man at the edge +of the fallen rubble. Then came another slide to +cover it completely! +</p> +<p> +The broken hydraulic gun fell over on its side. +The parting of some section of it was what had +thrown Brownell into the air and into the path of +its stream. +</p> +<p> +But before the other gunners on the bench who +saw Brownell’s accident could shut off their streams, +Hunt had acted. Some muckers tried to run in to +seize Brownell or dig him out from under the gravel +that had fallen, but the stream from the writhing +pipe swept them aside like chips. Half a dozen were +rolling in the mud of the bench. +</p> +<p> +Hunt sprang directly for the seat of the trouble. +That hose-pipe had to be controlled before a thing +could be done to help the buried Brownell. Precious +moments were lost signaling to the engineer below +to shut off power. +</p> +<p> +Hunt had not played football on his college team +for nothing. He made an extremely low “tackle,” +for he went down on his knees and then slid along +through the mud to grapple with the writhing pipe +that had broken away from its fastenings. He got +hold of it and wrestled with it for a few seconds as +two men might wrestle on the mat. When the other +men came running from below Hunt had conquered +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_196'></a>196</span> +the formidable thing, and the stream was shooting +into the air, where all the harm it did was to shower +some of the men as it fell back to earth. +</p> +<p> +For thirty seconds or more he held it so, until the +stream was shut off below. The others ran for the +pile that had overwhelmed Brownell. They dug +into it with their bare hands, got hold of one leg, +and dragged him forth like a wet rag out of a pan +of dishwater! +</p> +<p> +He was alive; nor were there many bones broken. +But he was a terrible sight, and they had to work +over him for some minutes before he breathed again. +Hunt went at this task, too, as coolly as did the +superintendent. That first-aid kit came in very +handily at this juncture. +</p> +<p> +The men stood around for a little while and +watched and talked. The accident had come near +being a tragedy. +</p> +<p> +“Believe me,” said one rough fellow, “that parson +is a good deal of a man. I’m for him, strong!” +</p> +<p> +“You’d even go to church for him, would you, +Jack?” chuckled his mate. +</p> +<p> +“Church? I’d go to a hotter place than that for +him!” was the prompt and emphatic reply. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_197'></a>197</span><a name='chXX' id='chXX'></a>CHAPTER XX—MURDER WILL OUT</h2> +<p> +Joe Hurley had lost none of his admiration for +his college friend whom he had encouraged to come +West. He still believed the Reverend Willett Ford +Hunt was the very man to find the heart of Canyon +Pass. Nor did events as they developed disprove his +pre-judgment of the result of Hunt’s coming. +</p> +<p> +But it must be confessed a sour note had come +into the life of the owner of the Great Hope. He +was a worker; he was energetic; he never under any +circumstances neglected business—not even when he +had been most attentive to Betty Hunt. But he now +had little joy in his work and looked for recreation +to a means he had eschewed for the most part since +the Easterners had arrived. +</p> +<p> +Like most men of his class and upbringing, the +ex-cow-puncher found satisfaction for a certain daring +trait in his character at the gambling table. The +coarser forms of pleasure in the honkytonks did not +attract Joe Hurley. He danced occasionally with +the better class of girls; he never drank more than +he thought was good for him—and he carried his +drink well; but when he “sat in” at a game of stud +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_198'></a>198</span> +poker or went up against the wheel—roulette was +popular with the Passonians—he admitted in his +saner moments that he “didn’t know when he had +enough.” The wild streak in the fellow showed +through the veneer of repression as it had when he +was in college. +</p> +<p> +Hunt could not feel as lenient now toward these +escapades as he once had. Not alone had the Easterner’s +outlook on life become more serious; but +after five years Joe Hurley, he thought, should have +“grown up.” He was, however, too wise to utter a +single word in opposition to Joe’s renewed course +in moral retrogression. He took Sam Tubbs to task +when he met that old reprobate staggering home +from the saloons and gave him a tongue-lashing that +Sam admitted afterward made his wife’s nagging +seem like a cradle lullaby. Hunt faced down Slickpenny +Norris on the open street, to the delight of the +bystanders, over the banker’s niggardliness in opposing +the building and equipment of the hospital. +The parson had been known to seize upon two well-grown +young fellows fighting in a vacant lot to the +delight of their fellows, knock their heads together +resoundingly and send each home “with a flea in his +ear.” But he had not a word of admonition it +seemed for Joe Hurley. +</p> +<p> +Yet Hunt was troubled about his friend. He +feared Betty knew something about the reason for +the change in the mine owner. But here again he +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_199'></a>199</span> +was silent. He knew his sister well—too well to try +to gain her confidence on any matter which she would +not give gratuitously. +</p> +<p> +Hunt had been much too busy at the time when +Hurley began to withdraw from Betty’s companionship +to notice the gradual drifting apart of the two. +When the brother awoke to the fact that his friend +and his sister seemed to be mere acquaintances again, +Betty had found a close companion in Nell Blossom. +</p> +<p> +Under certain circumstances this latter fact might +have encouraged Hunt to consider his own influence +with Nell as increasing; but by this time he had +gained more than a casual acquaintance with the +cabaret singer’s character. Joe Hurley had not written +too strongly about Nell’s stubbornness. Hunt +had undertaken in several ways to break down the +wall the girl had raised between them. She fought +him off with all the vigor of a wildcat and without +much more politeness than one of those felines would +have shown. +</p> +<p> +He met her at Mother Tubbs’—not by intention; +but he was rather frequently there to confer with +the uncultured but very sensible old woman. Nell +snubbed him, or scorned him, or was downright +impudent to him, just as her mood chanced to be. He +had to warn the old woman to pay no attention to +the girl’s attitude or there would have been a flare-up +between the two. And Hunt very well knew that +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_200'></a>200</span> +while Nell lived with Mother Tubbs she was pretty +safe. +</p> +<p> +He heartily approved, too, of her intimacy with +Betty. He could not gauge the influence Betty was +having on the self-willed girl; but he had confidence +in his sister, and he knew Nell would only be helped +by the association and that Betty would not be injured. +</p> +<p> +The opposition of Boss Tolley and his gang was +the last thing to trouble the placidity of Parson +Hunt’s soul. They snapped and barked, but had as +yet come to no close-quarters since Tolley’s adventure +with the pepper-besprinkled Bible. That tale +had convulsed the Passonians with mirth, and even +when weeks later it was retold, it brought ready +laughs from the citizens. +</p> +<p> +It was now fall, a golden-and-red autumn that enthralled +the visitors from the East when they looked +abroad to the hills of a morning. Even Betty confessed +that the glories of the Berkshires at the same +season were surpassed by this sight. She had come +now to appreciate the rude and bold lines of the +mountains and the gaudy color schemes of frost-bitten +shrubbery intermixed with the emerald of the +<em>Coniferæ</em>. +</p> +<p> +The early brightening of the face of nature by +these autumnal tints foretold for the natives of Canyon +Pass an early winter. To make this assurance +doubly sure, old Steve Siebert and Andy McCann +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_201'></a>201</span> +came wandering back to the Pass weeks ahead of +their scheduled time. +</p> +<p> +It was a fair enough day when the two old prospectors +came in—McCann in the morning and +Siebert along toward night. In all the time they +had been absent, after getting out of the canyon +itself, they had not been in sight of each other. One +had prospected east of the Runaway, and the other +west. Their activities in fact had been at least a +hundred miles apart. But both had seen signs—unmistakable +signs—of approaching winter. +</p> +<p> +They met as usual the amused inquiries of the +Passonians regarding the “ten-strike” they had been +expected to make. Was there due to be a stampede +for the scene of the claims they had staked out? +Had they brought in samples of the “real stuff” +that would start a regular Cripple Creek boom somewhere +out in the Topaz? +</p> +<p> +The two old men grinned, their watery eyes blinking, +and “stood the gaff” as patiently as they always +did. Why did they spend half the year in the ungodly +loneliness of the desert places, and in the end +bring nothing back with them? Not even an additional +coating of tan, for their leathery faces and +hands were already so darkened that the sun and +wind had no effect upon them. +</p> +<p> +“You old duffers ain’t right in your minds,” said +Judson to Andy McCann. “Just as loco as you can +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_202'></a>202</span> +be. Ye never did make a strike and ye never +will——” +</p> +<p> +“Lots you know about it, Bill,” grumbled McCann, +his jaws moving stiffly. +</p> +<p> +“Well, you never did, did you?” demanded the +storekeeper, with twinkling eyes. +</p> +<p> +“If you were yere twenty years ago——” +</p> +<p> +“You know derned well I was, Andy,” put in +Judson. “Reckon I was. And before.” +</p> +<p> +“You recommember the flood then?” +</p> +<p> +“I ain’t lost my mem’ry,” muttered Judson. +</p> +<p> +“All right. Keep <em>that</em> in yer mind,” said Andy, +shaking his head in senile fashion. “There was a +discovery made that year that you—nor nobody else +in Canyon Pass—knowed anything about. Talk +about the mother lode! Well!” +</p> +<p> +“Is that so?” cried the storekeeper eagerly. “Then +why wasn’t it worked? I knowed you and Steve +brought in samples of the right stuff; but——” +</p> +<p> +“Steve,” snarled McCann, his whole manner +changing. “That derned rat? Him? He didn’t +have no more to do with findin’ that vein——Huh! +Huh!” He coughed, fell silent, went out of the +store, deaf to any further questions. +</p> +<p> +It was Joe Hurley, standing with Hunt on Main +Street, who was first to welcome Steve Siebert as +he came along, riding his lean mare and towing the +burro that looked as though it might have been +carved rudely out of desert rock. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_203'></a>203</span> +</p> +<p> +“Well, old-timer, I certainly am glad to see you,” +the mining man said. “What luck?” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, so-so,” croaked the prospector. +</p> +<p> +“Ain’t going to tell us you worked all summer +just to get free air?” and Joe chuckled. +</p> +<p> +“Sumpin’ like it,” replied Siebert, and grinned +toothlessly. +</p> +<p> +“You do beat my time! Goin’ to come over to +the Great Hope? There’s a job for you.” +</p> +<p> +“Mighty nice of you, Joe. I’ll come,” said the old +man, nodding. +</p> +<p> +“And not a darn thing to show for all your pickin’ +and smellin’ about the Topaz since spring?” +</p> +<p> +“Not what you’d call a bonanza.” +</p> +<p> +“Youbetcha!” ejaculated Hurley. He turned with +a grin to Hunt. “Meet Parson Hunt, Steve. We’ve +done more in the Pass this summer than you have +on the desert. We’ve got us a real parson, and +we’re aimin’ to have a sure-enough church.” +</p> +<p> +“That’s a good word,” agreed Steve solemnly, +leaning to shake Hunt’s hand. The old man’s palm +was as dry and scaly as a lizard’s back. “There’s +a heap o’ folks yere that need religion. I understand +that derned Andy McCann’s got back.” +</p> +<p> +The gibe was obvious. Joe grinned with appreciation. +</p> +<p> +“Yep,” he said. “And he hasn’t got any more to +show for his summer’s work than you have.” +</p> +<p> +“Him!” snarled Steve. “Of course he ain’t. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_204'></a>204</span> +That dumb-head wouldn’t find gold in the mint. +No, sir! Never did find any——” +</p> +<p> +“I thought he did make a ten-strike once, but that +the slide twenty years ago knocked his claim into a +cocked-hat?” +</p> +<p> +“What? Him? Does he say so?” ejaculated Siebert, +his wrinkled, tanned countenance flaming +angrily. +</p> +<p> +“I heard tell,” and Joe chuckled. +</p> +<p> +“He’s a plumb liar. He didn’t find any such thing. +If there was any such discovery made in them days, +it was me that done it. Youbetcha! But <em>him</em>! +Huh! Anyway, it’s all buried deeper ’n the Pit—take +it from me,” and, grumbling, Steve Siebert +rode on. +</p> +<p> +“Believe me, Willie,” said Hurley, “there’s a case +for you. Try to get those two together.” +</p> +<p> +“These two old men are enemies?” asked Hunt +quietly. +</p> +<p> +“That’s no name for it. They hate each other +as only two fellers can who once were the closest +friends. Old Steve and Andy were once as close +as twins. But they tell me for twenty years they +have been snarling at and back-biting each other +something scandalous. If you want to introduce +love and kindness into the hearts of Canyon Pass +folks, Willie, just give those two old ruffians a +whirl.” +</p> +<p> +He laughed—not the kind of laugh he would have +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_205'></a>205</span> +uttered some weeks before. There was a sneering +note in Joe Hurley’s voice now when he spoke of +Hunt’s work and the better things of life. The +parson noted it now as he had often noticed it of +late, but he said nothing in comment at this time. +He merely observed, before separating from Joe to +return to the hotel for supper: +</p> +<p> +“Drop into the meeting room to-night, Joe. You +haven’t shown much interest in the Men’s Club lately, +and the work should have your approval. Besides, +there are certain business matters that must be discussed +at once.” +</p> +<p> +“Well,” said Joe gruffly. +</p> +<p> +He did not promise to attend. He did not attend. +</p> +<p> +“I wonder what kept Joe away?” Hunt ventured +to Judson, as they, the last of the company, left the +meeting room and the parson locked the door. That +was never left unlocked since Nell Blossom’s trick +with Mother Tubbs’ Bible. “I expected him to-night +to give us his views on that matter.” +</p> +<p> +The old storekeeper turned to him and grinned. +“Joe’s mighty busy, I reckon,” he said. +</p> +<p> +“In the evening?” +</p> +<p> +“This evening, youbetcha!” +</p> +<p> +“In just what way, Judson? What’s up your +sleeve?” +</p> +<p> +“My funnybone,” chuckled the storekeeper. “And +I have to laugh. Just about once in so often Joe +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_206'></a>206</span> +seems to lose ev’ry mite of sense he was born with. +He thinks he can beat the man that got the first +patent out on stud poker.” +</p> +<p> +“Ah! I know Joe used to like cards. When he +was East. But now——Is it as bad as you intimate, +Judson?” +</p> +<p> +“Some worse, I’m free to say,” declared the old +man. “Joe’s gone up against Colorado Brown’s +dealer, Miguel, several times lately. They get up a +round game of a few fellers—all friends. But +Miguel is always playin’ for the house. He’s a wonder. +‘Last Card Mike’ they sometimes call him. +He seems to be able to read clean through the backs +of any pack o’ cards you put up to him. He’s a +wizard—no mistake.” +</p> +<p> +“You mean that Joe is losing money in this +game?” asked Hunt, with some apprehension. +</p> +<p> +“Me, I’d just as soon bet on flies with their shoes +stuck in molasses as to play stud. Youbetcha!” returned +Judson, with a chuckle. +</p> +<p> +Hunt separated from the storekeeper and walked +slowly toward the Wild Rose. He passed Colorado’s +place; then he turned back. It is a matter of much +moment for one man to interfere in another’s private +affairs, and no one realized this fact better +than the Reverend Willett Ford Hunt. His office +could not excuse any unasked advice or intervention +in Hurley’s chosen course, no matter how much +Hunt desired to restrain his friend. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_207'></a>207</span> +</p> +<p> +He hesitated again when he faced the swinging +doors. There was not much noise inside. This +was not a Saturday night and the amusement places +along Main Street were not crowded. Most of the +Passonians who wasted their money in the several +places of this character spent it all and spent it +quick. The mid-week nights were lean for the dive +keepers. +</p> +<p> +It was not lack of courage that restrained Mr. +Hunt from preaching a general revival and a bitter +war against the cohorts of the devil in this town. +Merely, the time was not yet ripe. Sometimes he +feared that it never would be ripe. Certainly he +had not yet reached the heart of Canyon Pass. +Since the first shack had been built here at the +junction of the two forks, the enemy had been in +power; and it was now well entrenched. +</p> +<p> +But to-night Hunt was impressed by the feeling +that his friend needed him. Joe was slipping away +from him. For some unexplained reason the very +man who had brought him here to the Pass and +coaxed the idea of a spiritual uplift of the place +into germination, was backsliding. +</p> +<p> +The parson began to feel that he could not stand +by and see this thing go on. He pushed through +the flaps of the door. He had seldom entered this, +or any of the other saloons, in the evening. +</p> +<p> +His entrance now, however, did not serve to +startle any of the habitués. Brown himself came +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_208'></a>208</span> +forward to shake hands with the parson. Some of +the players at the green-covered tables nodded to +Hunt. The three-piece orchestra in the dance hall +at the back was droning out a fox-trot. Nell was +not singing. The principal interest seemed to be +about a corner table at which the parson saw Joe +Hurley sitting. +</p> +<p> +After a word to Brown in greeting, the parson +walked over to this corner table and joined the group +standing about it. Hurley looked up, grinned, and +said: +</p> +<p> +“Hullo, Willie! Want me?” +</p> +<p> +“I’ve something to ask you—by and by, when you +are done.” +</p> +<p> +“Looks like an all-night session,” returned Hurley, +immediately giving his attention to the cards again. +“Mike, here, is trying to skin me alive and the sheep +is bleatin’. Deal ’em, Mike.” +</p> +<p> +Hunt said nothing more; but he remained. By +the grim set of Joe’s lips and the silence of the company +about the table, he knew that the moment was +unpropitious for any insistence on his part that his +friend give him his attention. Yet he had the feeling +that something was going to happen, that his +place was here at this gambling table rather than at +the hotel with Betty. +</p> +<p> +The event that he subconsciously expected, however, +came from outside. There was a sudden +clamor at the door, the flaps swung in sharply, and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_209'></a>209</span> +several men entered. Smithy, Judson’s gangling +young clerk, was the most noticeable member of the +new group. He had a cut over his right eye, a puff +on his cheek-bone that could have been made by +nothing but a heavy fist, and when he spoke a crimson +gap in his upper jaw betrayed the absence of two +teeth. +</p> +<p> +“What’s happened to you, Smithy?” demanded +Colorado Brown, coming forward quickly. It would +not be to the benefit of the house to have the gamblers +disturbed at this moment. “Somebody punch +you?” +</p> +<p> +“I’ll thay they did!” lisped Smithy. He was half +sobbing, but he was mad clear through. +</p> +<p> +“They didn’t improve your looks none,” said +Colorado. +</p> +<p> +“Never mind muh lookth,” said Smithy. “I want +to know what you fellers think of this?” +</p> +<p> +“I just told you. Whoever done it didn’t make +you any handsomer,” interposed the proprietor of +the hall. “Now, if you’ve had a fight outside, don’t +bring it in here. We’re plumb peaceable here to-night, +we are.” +</p> +<p> +“Wait till you hear what the kid’s got to say, +Colorado,” put in one of those that had entered +with Smithy. +</p> +<p> +“Spit it out!” advised the proprietor. +</p> +<p> +“I want to know what Mr. Joe Hurley thinks of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_210'></a>210</span> +this?” Smithy managed to make plain. “What do +you think they are saying about Nell Blossom?” +</p> +<p> +“Nell Blossom?” +</p> +<p> +Hurley’s voice did not join the general chorus +which repeated the cabaret singer’s name. But he +looked up, his gaze met that of the parson, and a +lightning glance of understanding passed between +them. +</p> +<p> +“What’s eatin’ on you, Smithy?” demanded Colorado +Brown. +</p> +<p> +“Up in Tolley’s. I was just in there. I heard +Tolley and Tom Hicks and some others of his gang +talkin’. I couldn’t help hearin’ what was said, and +when I went for ’em this—this is what I got.” +</p> +<p> +He almost choked on the words. Joe Hurley rose +up as though a slow spring uncoiled beneath him. +</p> +<p> +“What did they say, Smithy?” he asked, and the +tone of his voice seemed to quell all other sounds. +</p> +<p> +“Why, the skunks!” cried Smithy, “they said Nell +Blossom shot Dick the Devil last spring and flung +him over the wall of the canyon into Runaway +River.” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_211'></a>211</span><a name='chXXI' id='chXXI'></a>CHAPTER XXI—THE DRAMA OF A LIE</h2> +<p> +The tense silence that followed Smithy’s half-sobbing +speech marked the poignancy of the moment +and the utter stupefaction of his hearers. To +all but Joe Hurley and Hunt such an accusation as +this aimed at Nell Blossom was entirely unlooked +for. If the crowd understood anything at all, they +understood that Boss Tolley, if he had started the +scandal, courted annihilation! +</p> +<p> +Indeed the first question fired at Smithy following +his statement was: +</p> +<p> +“Why didn’t you fill ’em with lead, Smithy?” +</p> +<p> +“I didn’t have no gun,” replied the grocery clerk. +“And Tom Hicks downed me before I could get at +Tolley.” +</p> +<p> +“Did he say it, Smithy?” demanded Colorado +Brown. +</p> +<p> +“’Twas him says he knows all about it. Says +that Nell killed Dick Beckworth.” +</p> +<p> +They talked. But it was Joe Hurley who acted. +He threw down the hand of cards he held. +</p> +<p> +“Mike,” he said to the Mexican, Miguel Santos, +“you know I ain’t in the habit of betraying cold +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_212'></a>212</span> +feet. But I got some business to tend to. Colorado,” +he added to the proprietor, “I’ll settle when +I come in again. I’m in a hurry.” +</p> +<p> +With the quickness of a cat he slipped through the +crowd about the table and Smithy and shot for the +door. But the parson was at his elbow before he +could get through the portal. +</p> +<p> +“You’d better keep out of this, Willie,” Hurley +said between his teeth. “There’s goin’ to be the +devil to pay in a minute.” +</p> +<p> +“It is as much my business as it is yours, Joe,” +said Hunt, in step with his long stride on the side-walk +where they headed toward the Grub Stake. +“And we must do something before those fellows +back there wake up.” +</p> +<p> +“What?” was Joe’s startled ejaculation. +</p> +<p> +“That stupid Smithy has started something. Some +of those fellows will be out after us in a minute, and +if they get to the Grub Stake before we straighten +things out, there will be trouble.” +</p> +<p> +“Trouble? Youbetcha there’ll be trouble! And +you’d better keep out of it, Willie.” +</p> +<p> +“I mean to stop it,” said Hunt softly. +</p> +<p> +But Joe Hurley did not hear him. He turned +abruptly and burst into the main entrance of the +Grub Stake. It did not take Joe Hurley’s trained +glance to see that something had happened here. +Hunt sensed, too, that if there had already been +trouble, more of the same kind was expected. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_213'></a>213</span> +</p> +<p> +The girl who usually presided at the door—the +girl who parked your gun if you wanted to play, or +your spurs if you wanted to dance and gave you +checks in return for them—had got out of the way. +Several of the gaming tables were empty. There +was not a man standing in front of the bar, and +Boss Tolley’s assistants behind the “rosewood” had +“stepped out.” +</p> +<p> +Hunt knew at first glance that some of the toughest +men in the camp were gathered here—either +about the remaining tables or with Boss Tolley at the +far end of the bar by the door of his tiny office +where the safes stood. That office, Joe had told +the parson, was an arsenal. There was a bodyguard +around the dive keeper of at least six men. +</p> +<p> +Joe Hurley saw that all this group was armed. +A flash of the several men at the gaming tables assured +the mining man that they might be neutral, +save perhaps the dealers for the house. But he +realized that Tolley’s gang was primed for mischief. +It was a wonder that Smithy, the poor fool, had got +out of the place alive! +</p> +<p> +Hunt had pushed ahead of Joe the moment +they stepped inside the door. They were both big +men, and Joe’s advantage of height could not hide +the parson’s bulk. In a flash, before a word was +spoken, Joe took two long strides sideways and got +behind the first table, which was empty. And he, +by this act, left Hunt out of the line of any bullet +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_214'></a>214</span> +aimed by the gang standing at the end of the bar at +himself. +</p> +<p> +A gun had not yet been drawn, however, on either +side. Nor had a word been spoken by either Tolley +and his gang or by the two men who had entered so +suddenly. Still, not a man in the barroom missed +the significance of Joe Hurley’s strategic move. +</p> +<p> +Sam Tubbs, withered old scarecrow that he was, +had been facing the door at a near-by table. It +was evident that Steve Siebert, the returned desert +rat, had been treating Tubbs to more liquor than +was good for him. But Sam had some wit left. +</p> +<p> +Joe’s action forecast the popping of guns—instantly! +Sam had seen too many such brawls to +play the part of “innocent bystander” if he could +help it. He let his feet slide out from under him, +shot down in the chair on the small of his back, and +passed out of sight under the table with all the +celerity of an imp in a pantomime. +</p> +<p> +Steve Siebert, however, did not even remove his +pipe from his lips, but wheeled in his chair and +glared from Joe to Tolley and his bodyguard. The +old man swung a heavy, old-style six-gun low on his +hip. But he did not touch it—then. +</p> +<p> +Joe’s attitude was as wary as that of a puma about +to spring. He crouched. By one quick motion he +could overturn the table, drop behind it, and use it +as a bulwark. But he must move quickly enough +to escape, perhaps, seven bullets from as many guns. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_215'></a>215</span> +</p> +<p> +It was Joe Hurley who first spoke. +</p> +<p> +“Tolley!” he said fiercely but clearly, “I warned +you what I’d do if you repeated that lie about the +girl. You remember, well enough, you hound! Stand +out from those bootlickers of yours and take your +medicine.” +</p> +<p> +The challenge got no response from Tolley but +a grimace like that of a wolf in a trap. He did +not make a motion to draw his own gun. He was +too wise to do that in any event, for he knew he could +not beat Joe to it! And then—what did he subsidize +these gunmen for if not for such an emergency as +this? +</p> +<p> +“Open your trap, you hound!” commanded Joe. +“If you won’t fight, speak!” +</p> +<p> +“Wait a moment.” +</p> +<p> +The parson had actually not halted at all when +he entered with Joe Hurley. He had merely slowed +up. He was approaching Tolley and his men down +the long length of the bar. But when he spoke Tom +Hicks half drew his gun. +</p> +<p> +“Mr. Tolley,” Hunt said in the same clear but +quiet voice, “will undoubtedly explain and apologize +for what we understand he has said about the young +woman in question. Come now, Mr. Tolley! you +are ready to take back your words, aren’t you? You +have no more proof, have you, of your—er—mis-statement +than you had several weeks ago when you +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_216'></a>216</span> +discussed the affair with Mr. Hurley in my hearing?” +</p> +<p> +“What are you butting in for?” returned Tolley +with a threatening growl. +</p> +<p> +“For the sake of peace, Mr. Tolley,” explained +the parson determinedly. +</p> +<p> +“Get back, Willie!” Joe ordered from the background. +</p> +<p> +He dared not draw his gun, for if he did Hunt +would be right in the line of fire again. With a +single motion Tom Hicks could get into action. +</p> +<p> +“You derned buttinsky!” spat out Tolley vengefully. +“Mind what you are doing, or you’ll stop +lead.” +</p> +<p> +“That will not make a lie the truth, Mr. Tolley,” +rejoined Hunt, now squarely between the group of +desperadoes and Joe Hurley’s position. +</p> +<p> +“You mean to say I’m a liar?” blustered Tolley. +</p> +<p> +“I mean to say that the story you have repeated +about the young woman and the man you say has +disappeared has no foundation in fact and that you +have in your possession no proof to back your statement. +If that is calling you a liar, Mr. Tolley, then +consider yourself so called!” +</p> +<p> +There was a little stir among the listeners at the +tables—a stir of approval, and one voice ejaculated: +</p> +<p> +“What’s it all about?” +</p> +<p> +Evidently not all of these men now present had +been at hand when Smithy had taken offense at Tolley’s +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_217'></a>217</span> +words earlier in the evening which precipitated +this situation. Hunt, without raising his voice at +all, continued: +</p> +<p> +“I take it that you have no new evidence of a +crime having been committed? You did not see +the man fall? You merely saw the young woman +at the summit of the declivity? Later you recovered +a saddle you recognized from the fallen rubbish? Am +I right? Isn’t that the extent of your evidence?” +</p> +<p> +“Well! Look yere! I reckon I know what I am +talkin’ about——” +</p> +<p> +“But you do not talk about what you know,” +interposed Hunt. “To my personal knowledge—and +that of Mr. Hurley—the missing man was not +buried under that heap of rubbish with his horse.” +</p> +<p> +“Then he went into the river!” cried Tolley. +</p> +<p> +Here Joe Hurley put in a very pungent word: +</p> +<p> +“And that might easily be true. If you found +his horse and removed the saddle, you might have +found the man, too, Tolley, and removed some of his +harness.” +</p> +<p> +“What’s that?” was the startled demand. +</p> +<p> +“From the first,” Joe said sternly, “I suspected +you, Tolley. Your dust won’t hide what you have +done. You are altogether too sure the man is dead—after +first reporting that you had heard from +him in Denver. +</p> +<p> +“In fact, you are too anxious to cast suspicion +on another person. Your conscience—if you have +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_218'></a>218</span> +such a thing—is troubling you, Tolley. At least, +your fears have made you try to invent a lie that +doesn’t work out just the way you expected it to.” +</p> +<p> +“I’ll show you——” +</p> +<p> +“You’ll show me nothing, Tolley!” retorted Hurley. +“You’ll listen—and these other gentlemen. +You got the man’s saddle. It is just as probable +that you found his body, as well as that of the horse. +And he was known to wear a money-belt around +his waist. He was likewise known to be well-fixed +when he left Canyon Pass. He’d been doing well +here. You knew it, if anybody did. You confess +that you rode after the man. And you confess that +you got his saddle. Confess the rest of it, you dog. +What else have you got in your safe that belonged +to——” +</p> +<p> +Boss Tolley threw caution to the winds at this +juncture. Hurley’s scathing denunciation pricked +to life in him such personal courage as he possessed. +He flung himself forward with a howl of rage and +whipped the gun from the holster at his hip. +</p> +<p> +“Get down, Willie!” shouted Hurley and flung the +table on its edge with a crash, dropping behind it. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_219'></a>219</span><a name='chXXII' id='chXXII'></a>CHAPTER XXII—A FACE IN THE STORM</h2> +<p> +An interruption—a voice as hoarse as the croak +of a vulture—rose above the din of other voices: +</p> +<p> +“Tolley! You other fellers! Put ’em up! H’ist +’em!” +</p> +<p> +Tolley halted—it seemed in midflight. Even the +gun hand of Tom Hicks relaxed. From the other +side of the room old Steve Siebert commanded the +situation—and the group of desperate men. The +black muzzle of his gun gaped like the mouth of a +cannon. Hunt did not stand between him and Tolley’s +crowd. The old man steadied the barrel of his +weapon on the edge of the table behind which he +sat and covered the bunch perfectly. +</p> +<p> +“H’ist ’em!” he said again, and as Tolley’s gun +clattered to the floor and Hicks thrust back his +weapon into his sheath, he added: “I don’t aim to +mix in what ain’t my business, as a usual thing. +But when I see seven skunks goin’ after two boys—an’ +one o’ them a parson and not ironed a-tall—I +reckon on takin’ a hand. Put ’em up!” +</p> +<p> +The ruffians obeyed. Seven pairs of hands +reached for the smoke-begrimed ceiling. Several +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_220'></a>220</span> +startled faces appeared under the archway between +the barroom and the dance hall. One was the desert-bitten +countenance of Andy McCann. He would +not have sat to drink in the same room with his one-time +partner; but Steve Siebert’s voice had stung +McCann to action. Steve saw him. +</p> +<p> +“Andy, you derned old rat!” Steve cried, “shut +that office door and lock it. Then, just frisk them +rustlers and remove their irons. There ain’t goin’ +to be no shootin’. Whatever the row is, it’s goin’ to +be settled plumb peaceful.” +</p> +<p> +McCann snarled at the other old pocket-hunter +like a tiger cat; but he obeyed—and not without +some enjoyment of the chagrin of Tolley and his +gangsters. +</p> +<p> +“It takes us old sourdoughs to be slick,” he +chuckled, when he had dumped an armful of guns on +an empty table. “You boys ain’t dry behind the +ears yet when it comes to shootin’ scrapes.” +</p> +<p> +“There ain’t goin’ to be no shootin’,” repeated +Steve Siebert. “Not ’nless them fellers start it with +their mouths,” and he grinned such a toothless grin +that he almost lost his grip on the pipestem clamped +in one corner of his mouth. +</p> +<p> +“Now, what’s it all about? What’s the row? +What gal you talkin’ about? Who’s the feller that +was killed? I’m sort o’ curious.” +</p> +<p> +Joe Hurley stood erect again. He laughed. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_221'></a>221</span> +</p> +<p> +“Great saltpeter!” he exclaimed, “you certainly +are a friend in need, old-timer.” +</p> +<p> +“Come on,” rejoined Steve. “Let’s have the pertic’lars.” +</p> +<p> +It was the Reverend Willett Ford Hunt who took +upon himself the explanation. +</p> +<p> +“Nell Blossom!” cried Steve. “That leetle songbird? +You mean to say all this row is over her?” +</p> +<p> +“Mr. Tolley has made the statement that Miss +Blossom was the cause of this Beckworth’s death. +His horse went over the cliff into the canyon. +Whether or not the man went with it——” +</p> +<p> +“He did!” cried Andy McCann, smiting his thigh +resoundingly with his palm. “By gravy! Is that +what’s eatin’ all you fellers?” +</p> +<p> +“Say! Who’s runnin’ this court, I’d like to +know?” demanded Steve Siebert angrily. +</p> +<p> +“Aw, shut up—you old lizard,” said McCann, +flaming at him. “’Tain’t no court. It ain’t nothin’ +like it. Put up your gun. It’s all off. Dick the +Devil ain’t dead at all. At least he wasn’t killed +that time he went over the cliff. He’s Dick the +Devil sure ’nough, and he’s got more luck than a +hanged man.” +</p> +<p> +“Just what do you mean?” Hunt asked. +</p> +<p> +“Why, we seen him—me and that old rat sittin’ +there with his gun, makin’ goo-goo eyes. Sure! And +me and him pulled Dick out of the river. He went +clean over his horse’s head and landed in the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_222'></a>222</span> +river—same’s a bird. He might have been drowned if me +and that ground owl there hadn’t got him out. But +he never said one word about Nell Blossom bein’ +with him or havin’ anything to do with his comin’ +down that cliff. No, sir!” +</p> +<p> +“Nary a word,” agreed the surprised Siebert. +“Nary a word.” +</p> +<p> +“What—what became of him?” stammered Hunt, +a great weight lifted from his heart. +</p> +<p> +“He went along with me to the edge of the desert,” +said Siebert slowly. “He dried out at my fire that +night. Next morning he lit out to hit the Lamberton +trail. That’s all I know about Dick.” +</p> +<p> +“And it’s more than I knowed,” grunted Andy +McCann. “That old rat there might have garroted +Dick for his money. But it sure wasn’t Nell Blossom +that croaked Dick the Devil—if he’s dead at +all.” +</p> +<p> +Here Hunt stepped between the two old prospectors. +It looked as though somebody had to separate +them or there might have been a shooting, after all! +</p> +<p> +But it was Joe Hurley who had the last word. +He set up the overturned table and walked over to +the bar. +</p> +<p> +“To show that there’s no hard feelings,” he +drawled, “this’ll be on me. Get busy, Tolley, on +the right side of this bar. And hereafter, you think +twice before you say anything you’re not dead sure +of about Nell Blossom. Somebody’d better drag +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_223'></a>223</span> +Sam Tubbs out from under that table. He don’t +want to miss this.” +</p> +<p> +There sounded a sudden rush of heavily shod feet +outside the barroom door. As Hunt had expected, +an angry crowd from Colorado Brown’s burst in. +</p> +<p> +“Just in season, boys,” Hurley continued. “All +a mistake about our Nell. Tolley just proved himself +to be as careless with the truth as he always +is. Isn’t that so, Tolley?” +</p> +<p> +Tolley grunted. +</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p> +The winter weather forecast by the return of Steve +Siebert and Andy McCann from the desert held off +the next morning when Betty Hunt and Nell started +on their usual ride into the hills. +</p> +<p> +Nell had heard a garbled report but few of the +particulars of the incident which the night before +had threatened bloodshed at the Grub Stake. She +knew that the parson had again done something that +was sure to endear him to the Passonians in general. +And his courageous act had been in her cause. +But she had failed to learn of the disproval of Dick +Beckworth’s reported death. +</p> +<p> +She said nothing to Betty about the incident. She +had begun to shrink from discussing the rougher +side of the life of Canyon Pass with the parson’s +sister. As Joe Hurley would have expressed it, Nell +Blossom was becoming “right gentled” through her +association with Betty Hunt. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_224'></a>224</span> +</p> +<p> +Betty herself, in Nell’s company, managed to put +aside those more serious thoughts and anxieties of +mind that ruffled her natural composure at other +times. Since the day, weeks before, when she had +been forced to wreck Joe Hurley’s hope of happiness, +the cloud of despondency that overshadowed +her life seemed at times greater than she could live +under. +</p> +<p> +Nor could the Eastern girl put aside such thoughts +of the Westerner as at first amazed and startled, +then revealed to the honest soul of Betty Hunt that +the unfortunate circumstance in her past life that +made it impossible for her to make Joe happy, likewise +barred her own heart from happiness. +</p> +<p> +Wicked as her strict upbringing made the fact +seem, she had to admit that she had fallen under +the spell of Joe Hurley’s generous character, that +she loved him. She could not deny this discovery, +although it filled her mind with confusion. Wedded +to a man she hated and in love with a man she could +not wed! +</p> +<p> +In any event, this was a secret—like the other +that so disturbed her—which under no circumstances +could she confide to either her brother or any friend. +At first she felt the discovery a degrading one. +Brought up as she had been under the grim puritanism +of her Aunt Prudence Mason, the idea of +a married woman admitting that she loved a man +other than the one she was married to was a sin. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_225'></a>225</span> +The idea of divorce was as foreign to her religious +training as was the thought of fratricide. +</p> +<p> +She was cheerful on the surface at least when she +and Nell rode out of Canyon Pass and through the +East Fork. They climbed the canyon wall on that +side by a tortuous path on which only a burro or a +very sure-footed pony was safe. It was Nell, when +they were once on the summit, who discovered the +threat of a weather change. +</p> +<p> +The air was very keen. Many of the bushes by the +way had shriveled during the night as though before +a furnace blast. +</p> +<p> +“Black frost,” said the younger girl. “Old Steve +and Andy know their little book. Sam says Steve +told him there was a blizzard coming. We won’t +ride far to-day, Betty.” +</p> +<p> +“A blizzard? Only fancy,” murmured the Eastern +girl. +</p> +<p> +She was not much impressed. She had no experience—even +of New England winter storms—to enable +her to judge the nature of a storm in these +Western mountains. +</p> +<p> +But Nell should have known better than to lead +the way into a gulch which quite shut them in from +sight of the surrounding country. A blizzard is a +chancy thing; and often the first storm of a Western +winter is the worst of all. +</p> +<p> +They rode to a spring at which deer drank; they +saw many tracks, but there were none of the pretty +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_226'></a>226</span> +creatures in sight. Birds fluttered through the +chaparral with strange cries, and the rabbits ran +back and forth as though much disturbed by domestic +happenings. +</p> +<p> +“I never saw them jacks so queer acting,” said +Nell thoughtfully. “We’d better ride home, Betty.” +</p> +<p> +“Why?” asked the other girl gayly. “You are +not afraid they will attack us, are you?” +</p> +<p> +“Not that,” and the Western-born young woman +smiled. “But there’s something comin’, I reckon—just +as Steve and Andy say.” +</p> +<p> +Before they rode up out of the gulch they heard +something slashing like a multitude of knives +through the dead leaves overhead. When they rode +out into the open they beheld the thick cloud that +had almost reached the zenith, and out of that cloud +came not snow, but ice! +</p> +<p> +Fine particles of the sharpest crystal were driven +in a thick haze through the singing air. Nell instantly +whipped off her neckcloth and tied it across +her nose and mouth, warning Betty to follow her example. +</p> +<p> +“Get this in your lungs, Betty, and you’ll have +pneumonia as sure as sure!” she shouted. +</p> +<p> +Frightened, they urged their ponies on to the beginning +of the rough path down the canyon wall. +Although they were soon somewhat sheltered from +the driving ice-storm there were bare places where +the two girls suffered the full force of the gale. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_227'></a>227</span> +</p> +<p> +“I know a place!” cried Nell in a muffled voice. +“We got to hole up till this stops. Come on!” +</p> +<p> +It had grown dark of a sudden. Nell pulled her +pony off the path, and he picked his way daintily +to a cavity in the wall. Here an overhanging rock +offered some shelter. At least, the girls were out +of the steady beat of the storm. +</p> +<p> +They dismounted and got behind the ponies, between +their warm bodies and the rock itself. If +Betty was the more frightened of the two, she +showed it no more than did Nell Blossom. +</p> +<p> +The air became thicker and the whine of the wind +rose to a shriek which all but drowned their voices +when they tried to communicate with each other. It +was such a manifestation of the storm king as Betty +Hunt had never seen before. +</p> +<p> +They were but a little way off the path. Suddenly +both girls, in spite of the wind, heard the clatter +of shod hoofs. Another horse was coming down +the path. In a moment they dimly saw the looming +figure of a man leading the animal. +</p> +<p> +“Who is it?” gasped Betty, but if Nell heard +the question she did not answer. +</p> +<p> +Nell clutched Betty’s wrist for silence. The girls +stared at the man beating his way downward. He +wore a broad-brimmed hat, but they could see the +long, black, curling hair flowing from beneath it. +He turned his face toward them, and Betty beheld +the keen face and heavy mustache of the stranger +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_228'></a>228</span> +she had seen hiding from the sheriff and his posse +weeks before near the trail to Hoskins! +</p> +<p> +The man progressed so slowly, and he was so near, +that the Eastern girl could study his features now +with more certainty. There was something in the +contour of his face that reminded her of Andy Wilkenson! +</p> +<p> +Could it be he? Was it possible that this fugitive—the +man the officers had accused of a crime—was +the debonair Andy who had so enthralled her girlish +mind and heart back there at Grandhampton Hall? +</p> +<p> +She had not forgotten Wilkenson’s observations +about Crescent City. Betty had never ceased to +fear that he might appear to her in this part of the +great West. But here—now—and in this dramatic +manner? +</p> +<p> +Much shaken, she turned to look at Nell Blossom. +She suddenly realized that the other girl was +sagging against her shoulder very strangely. She +glanced down into Nell’s muffled face. +</p> +<p> +The younger girl’s eyes were closed. She was as +pallid as death itself. Nell Blossom had fainted! +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_229'></a>229</span><a name='chXXIII' id='chXXIII'></a>CHAPTER XXIII—A GREAT LIGHT DAWNS</h2> +<p> +Some men can escape their duty if they choose to—can +ignore it, flout it, even deny its very existence—but +not one who is called to be a leader of men +toward a higher plane of daily existence. The greatest +sophism with which the race has ever been +cursed is that hoary one of the lazy preacher: “Do +as I say, not as I do.” +</p> +<p> +Religious precept is utterly worthless if the preceptor +does not follow his own expounded faith with +a living example. The Reverend Willett Ford Hunt +had come to that pass where he could no longer +ignore the fact that his friend, Joe Hurley, was on +the down grade. When the parson cooled down +after the exciting events of that evening, both in +Colorado Brown’s place and at the Grub Stake, he +saw more clearly that he had fallen into error. +</p> +<p> +If he was to be the spiritual guide and mentor +of his congregation at Canyon Pass, he must be +the same to one member of it as he was to another. +He had not been slow to admonish others of +his parishioners; but the man who had brought him +here—the one whom he really looked upon as being +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_230'></a>230</span> +his chief supporter in the work he was striving to +do—was slipping away from him and into flagrantly +evil ways. +</p> +<p> +If Hunt’s character has been revealed at all in this +narrative, moral and physical courage have not +seemed to be its lack. Then why had the young parson +failed to go after Joe Hurley as he did after Judson, +the storekeeper, Sam Tubbs, Hi Brownell, +Smithy, and other men who were wont to “kick over +the traces”? +</p> +<p> +There was just one clear and cogent reason why +Hunt had not taken Joe to task for his failings, as +he already had many another man in Canyon Pass. +His old friendship for Joe had nothing to do with +this neglect. And certainly he did not fear making +the good cause in which he was so interested a powerful +enemy. There was nothing in Joe Hurley’s generous +character that would suggest that for a moment. +</p> +<p> +It was, in short, the fact that Hunt believed that +he and Joe were in love with the same girl. +</p> +<p> +Although, as far as Hunt had observed, Nell Blossom +displayed no particular fondness for Joe Hurley, +the latter believed the mining man “understood” +the cabaret singer. At least, Nell revealed no such +disdain for Joe Hurley as she had publicly for +Hunt. +</p> +<p> +When the latter reviewed the late incidents as they +related to Joe, while he tossed on his mattress that +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_231'></a>231</span> +night, he admitted he was taking the wrong course +with his friend. He had seemed tacitly to overlook +sins of commission on Joe’s part that he would +have pilloried in another. +</p> +<p> +Had Hurley not been heated by drink and his +passion for gambling, he would not have pursued +that unwise course in going to the Grub Stake in a +mood which had all but precipitated tragedy. Joe’s +recklessness had been unleashed, and Hunt had been +obliged to stand by after the unexpected conclusion +of the scene and see his friend drink with the very +men who, a few minutes before, had been ready to +take Joe’s life. +</p> +<p> +He arose with a new determination. He saw his +sister and Nell Blossom ride away from the Wild +Rose Hotel. Then he made his way directly to the +Great Hope Mine. +</p> +<p> +Hurley had an office—a small shack—off at one +side. The parson found him alone in it, his boots +cocked on his battered desk, his pipe drawing well. +His grin was as infectious as ever. +</p> +<p> +“Well, Willie! some time that last night, eh?” +was Joe’s greeting. “When I get in a tight corner +again, I’ll never wish for a better side-partner than +you, old sobersides!” +</p> +<p> +“Joe,” returned Hunt with a directness that +seemed brutal, “if you had been your sober self last +night—quite the same man you are wont to be—there +would have been no tight corner.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_232'></a>232</span> +</p> +<p> +“Huh?” The other’s boots came to the floor with +emphasis. His brown eyes sparked. The muscles +of his jaws set grimly. “You’ve got a crust, Willie, +to talk to me like that.” +</p> +<p> +“You need talking to, Joe; and I’m going to do +the talking. No! Sit right where you are and +listen. You’ve got it coming to you; and, if you +are the man I have always thought you, you’ll stand +the gaff.” +</p> +<p> +“Aw, shucks! A drink or two isn’t going to kill +Joe Hurley.” +</p> +<p> +“A drink or two kills his moral sense, and kills his +usefulness as a good citizen,” returned Hunt. “Then, +you have been gambling steadily.” +</p> +<p> +“Great saltpeter! isn’t a feller to have any fun at +all? I haven’t lost much to Miguel.” +</p> +<p> +“It is your example to the rest. And what you +have lost would help the fund for our church building. +And we must have a church, Joe.” +</p> +<p> +Joe uttered something under his breath. +</p> +<p> +“What makes you so reckless, Joe?” +</p> +<p> +“Shucks, Willie! Maybe I have slipped a few +cogs. A lone bachelor like me can’t help it sometimes, +can he?” asked Hurley, with a smile that tried +to be whimsical rather than bitter. “Remember, +Willie, I haven’t got a sister to keep me well balanced. +It’s womenfolks and—and an interest in +one that makes a man a sobersides.” +</p> +<p> +“Is it!” returned Hunt, with scorn. “If a man +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_233'></a>233</span> +hasn’t the stamina to stay straight, no girl will ever +keep him in the narrow path—believe me!” +</p> +<p> +“You belittle Miss Betty’s powers of persuasion,” +returned Joe, with a sly glance. +</p> +<p> +“If that is your belief,” Hunt said, with sharpness +and a rising color, “I should think you would +keep straight for Nell’s sake.” +</p> +<p> +“Nell Blossom?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes. You are interested in her, aren’t you?” +</p> +<p> +“Surest thing you know, Willie.” +</p> +<p> +“Then, for her sake——” +</p> +<p> +“Hold on!” ejaculated Hurley, sudden suspicion +in his gaze. “Do you think I’m soft on Nell?” +</p> +<p> +“Well—er—aren’t you?” demanded his friend +rather faintly. +</p> +<p> +“I’m free to confess I was,” said Joe slowly, +watching Hunt now with growing understanding in +his eyes. “But that little skeesicks showed me where +I got off long ago. And I tell you fair, Willie, she +is not the girl who is bothering me.” +</p> +<p> +“Then, there is a girl? Joe! You and Betty——” +</p> +<p> +Hurley put up his hand, turning his face away. +“No use, Willie. Betty’s given me my congé, too. +I reckon I am an ‘also-ran’ with the ladies.” +</p> +<p> +“My dear Joe!” Hunt grabbed his hand. “I’m +sorry. I don’t understand Betty.” +</p> +<p> +Hurley went to the door suddenly, opened it, and +looked out. A cold blast from the hills ruffled the +papers on the desk. The sun was suddenly dimmed. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_234'></a>234</span> +In the distance the coming wind whined like a sick +dog. +</p> +<p> +“Say! we’re going to get it,” he muttered. +</p> +<p> +“A storm coming?” asked Hunt absently. His +own heart sang. A foolish happiness swept over +him. He went to look out over Hurley’s shoulder. +“Does it look bad to you?” +</p> +<p> +“Youbetcha! It’s coming faster than you ever +saw a storm move, I reckon, Willie. Those old has-beens, +Steve and Andy, can’t be fooled. They got +in from the desert just ahead of it.” +</p> +<p> +“A blizzard, Joe?” cried the parson with sudden +anxiety. “The girls!” +</p> +<p> +“What about them? What girls?” +</p> +<p> +“Betty and Nell. They’ve gone out on horseback.” +</p> +<p> +“You don’t mean it? Er—Well, Nell must have +seen it coming and turned back. She knows this +country as well as a man. But, come on! Let’s go +down to Tim’s corral and see if the ponies are in +again. It wouldn’t do——” +</p> +<p> +He slammed the office door, shouted to his manager, +and strode away. Hunt had to put his best +foot forward to keep up with him. Women and +children were already scuttling to shelter when they +went down through the town. Bill Judson waved a +hand at them from his door, shouting: +</p> +<p> +“Them old desert rats knowed their biz, didn’t +they? I’d set my clock by them, I would.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_235'></a>235</span> +</p> +<p> +At the corral the two young men saw at a glance +that the girls’ ponies had not been returned by Cholo +Sam. They went on toward the hotel in silence. +Now the first needles of the ice-storm cut their faces. +It was nothing like any storm Hunt had ever seen. +And how fast it grew in volume and strength! +</p> +<p> +Cholo Sam and Maria were at the door of the +hotel, looking down the street eagerly and anxiously. +</p> +<p> +“Which way did they go?” shouted Hurley, without +any preamble. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Señor Hurley!” cried Sam. “To the East. +T’roo the East Fork.” +</p> +<p> +Already sight of the rugged path up the heights +on that side of the canyon was blotted out by the +driving ice particles. +</p> +<p> +“Shall we get horses and go after them?” panted +Hunt. +</p> +<p> +“Horses won’t live in this. Maybe we can stir +up some of the boys to go with us. Wish I had +my roughnecks here.” +</p> +<p> +But there was not time to go back to the mine. +The storm had come on so suddenly that the workers +above the town might hole in until the first force +of the blizzard was over. +</p> +<p> +Hunt ran up to his room to get his heavier coat +and a couple of blankets. As he descended the stairs, +Cholo Sam came from the barroom with a filled +flask in his hand. +</p> +<p> +“Some of the best brandy, Señor Hunt,” he said. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_236'></a>236</span> +“It is for the seekness only that comes with the +cold. Ah thees ice in the lungs is death, señor—death!” +</p> +<p> +The parson took it without hesitation and slipped +it into his pocket. He ran out to see Joe Hurley +coming out of Colorado Brown’s place with Jib Collins +and Cale Mack behind him. In another few seconds, +so rapidly did the driving ice thicken the air, +Hunt lost sight of the trio and they fairly bumped +into him when they reached the spot where he +stood. +</p> +<p> +“That you, Willie?” shouted Hurley. “We’ll get +a rope and tie ourselves together. Tie mufflers over +our faces. Say, there may be some more fellers +in the Grub Stake who will help.” +</p> +<p> +He turned that way, finding his direction more by +sense than by sight. They stumbled up the steps +and in at the door of the Grub Stake. +</p> +<p> +At that very moment a half-frozen man, leading +a storm-battered horse, had fallen at Tolley’s rear +door. The dive keeper was dragging him into the +place like a log as Hurley, Hunt, and their companions +strode into the barroom. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_237'></a>237</span><a name='chXXIV' id='chXXIV'></a>CHAPTER XXIV—THE BARRIER DOWN—FOR A MOMENT</h2> +<p> +“Hey, you fellers!” shouted Tolley to the several +men in the barroom of the Grub Stake. “Come give +me a hand. Here’s a feller that’s taken pretty near +his last pill, I reckon.” +</p> +<p> +The parson, as well as Hurley and the others, +responded to the dive keeper’s call. Tolley kicked +shut the back door with savage insistence against +the driving wind. +</p> +<p> +“I reckon his hoss is done for,” he panted. “But +the feller himself—Hi, Nobbs! get him a jolt of +something hot.” +</p> +<p> +Hunt and Joe Hurley helped raise the senseless +man, and, with Tolley carrying the feet, they +moved him close to one of the glowing stoves. His +hat fell off. It was Joe who voiced a surprise that +was not his alone. +</p> +<p> +“Why, Tolley! here’s your dead man now. As +I’m a sinner—and the parson assures me that I am—this +is Dick Beckworth.” +</p> +<p> +“Dick the Devil!” ejaculated two or three in +chorus. +</p> +<p> +“This is a nice sort of a day for him to come +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_238'></a>238</span> +back,” muttered Tolley, evidently quite as much +amazed as the others. +</p> +<p> +Hunt peered into the face of the senseless man. +There was a certain regularity of feature, in spite +of the sharpness and blueness caused by the extreme +cold he had suffered, which the parson saw +might lead the casual observer to consider Dick +Beckworth handsome. His complexion was as spotless +as a girl’s; the skin scarcely tanned; ears and +nose small and perfectly formed; the closed eyes, +long-lashed; and the brows as delicately marked as +though done with a stencil. +</p> +<p> +He was shaved, although he had come out of the +wilderness, and his jet-black mustache was as silky +as his long hair. Dick Beckworth, gambler and +lady’s man, without doubt made a striking appearance +wherever he went. Even lying there on the +bench, colorless, and with his eyes closed, the +parson realized that the man would be indeed a +“heart-breaker”—among young and inexperienced +women at least. +</p> +<p> +It could not be doubted that he had made a strong +impression upon the almost childish mind and heart +of Nell Blossom. She must have been attracted by +this man just as she would have been by a gaudy +flower or a bird of brilliant plumage. +</p> +<p> +Hunt felt a strange loathing for the gambler, +much as his present state should excite pity. This +was the man, he believed, who had brought about +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_239'></a>239</span> +the change that Joe Hurley said had suddenly come +over Nell Blossom’s character. +</p> +<p> +Beckworth had hidden the fact that he had escaped +death through his fall into the canyon and +so had laid a burden of terror and anguish upon +Nell’s heart, which was reason enough for her apparent +hatred of all mankind. +</p> +<p> +Nobbs, the barkeeper, brought the drink at Tolley’s +command. They forced open Dick’s jaws and +poured the potent stuff into him. The color almost +instantly stained his cheeks. His eyelids +fluttered. He choked. +</p> +<p> +“What was it Andy McCann said about him?” +Hurley said thoughtfully. “He’s got the luck of a +hanged man. He’s coming around all right. But +there are others out in the storm that need help more +than this fellow.” +</p> +<p> +“Who’s that?” asked one of the men who had been +loitering at the Grub Stake bar. +</p> +<p> +Hurley explained briefly about the absent girls. +Two men besides those already of their party volunteered +to join Hurley and the parson. A rope—a +hair lariat—was likewise found with which the +searchers could bind themselves together. It would +be the simplest thing imaginable to drift away from +each other in such a blinding storm. +</p> +<p> +Dick Beckworth gave unmistakable signs of returning +consciousness. He groaned, struggled, raised +up on an elbow to stare about. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_240'></a>240</span> +</p> +<p> +“Hold on!” the parson said to Joe. “See if the +man can speak. He may know something.” +</p> +<p> +“Right you are, Willie,” Hurley agreed. He +leaned over the dazed gambler. “Hi, Dick! Do you +know me? Joe Hurley! See?” +</p> +<p> +“Where—where am I?” whispered Dick. +</p> +<p> +“You’re in the Grub Stake, all right, Dick,” broke +in Tolley eagerly. “The old Grub Stake, I tell ye—that +you never ought t’ve left.” +</p> +<p> +“Grub Stake? Tolley?” questioned Dick. Then +he opened his eyes wide and recognized Hurley’s +face so close to his own. “That you, Joe? I——” +</p> +<p> +“Which way did you come into town, Dick?” +broke in the mining man. +</p> +<p> +“Eh? What?” +</p> +<p> +“Did you come through the East Fork or the +West Fork?” +</p> +<p> +“Why—why, the East Fork.” +</p> +<p> +“You did! Did you see anybody on the way +down? You came down the cliff, didn’t you? Anybody +up on the plain?” were Hurley’s excited questions. +</p> +<p> +“Why—I—I——” +</p> +<p> +“Two women are out in the storm,” went on Hurley. +“Did you see them anywhere up yonder?” +</p> +<p> +“Two women? I—I thought they were men. +They rode down ahead of me. Then it grew so—so +thick I couldn’t see ’em again.” +</p> +<p> +“Great saltpeter!” exclaimed Hurley. “You must +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_241'></a>241</span> +have passed ’em. They are up there somewhere +among the rocks.” +</p> +<p> +“Or they’ve gone over the rocks—hosses and all!” +groaned Collins. +</p> +<p> +“Shut up!” muttered his chum, Cale Mack. “Ain’t +you got no sense? Look at the parson!” +</p> +<p> +“This is Parson Hunt,” explained Hurley to the +staring Dick. “His sister Betty is one of the missing +girls you saw.” +</p> +<p> +“<em>Who?</em>” gasped Dick. “Betty Hunt? Here? +Here? At Canyon Pass?” +</p> +<p> +“My sister,” Hunt said hoarsely. “Didn’t you +see her and Nell Blossom again as you rode down?” +</p> +<p> +“Your sister?” repeated the startled gambler. +“Betty Hunt—your sister?” +</p> +<p> +He fell back and closed his eyes. Hurley started +for the front door. +</p> +<p> +“No time to lose, boys,” he cried. “Come on! +Betty and Nell are somewhere up there along that +path. No more delay.” +</p> +<p> +He had already knotted one end of the rope around +his waist. Hunt followed his example, leaving six +feet or more of slack between them. The other men +who were going with them quickly fastened themselves +in rotation. They knotted neckerchiefs or +mufflers across their faces. Nobbs opened the door +for them, and the file went out into the storm. +</p> +<p> +The roar of the storm as the men came out upon +the open bank of the East Fork made the human +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_242'></a>242</span> +voice quite inaudible. Nor could they communicate +by signs, for only the dim outlines of the +man before him could be seen by the man behind. +A tug of the rope was the only signal understood between +the searchers. +</p> +<p> +The driven hail churned the surface of the river +to a livid foam. The reflection of this sheet of +ruffled water lent them more light than the sun itself. +The storm beat upon the string of men with +a savageness that appalled Hunt, who had never +experienced nature in so bitter a mood. +</p> +<p> +But what these men of Canyon Pass could do, the +parson would not shrink from. And were not the +two beings he loved most in this world—Nell Blossom +and his sister Betty—in desperate peril somewhere +on the other side of the wind-lashed stream? +</p> +<p> +The water was all of knee-depth over the bar, but +Joe waded in without hesitation. They were none +of them shod properly for the wading of the stream; +but their personal discomfort—or, indeed, their personal +peril in any way—did not enter into their consideration +in this emergency. Two girls were somewhere +up there among the rocks, harassed by the +storm and in danger of their lives. The men’s job +was to get them. +</p> +<p> +The ice—it was more than mere sleet that whipped +them so unmercifully—cut such parts of their faces +as were bare, needle sharp and stinging. From under +the peak of his cap each man could now see +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_243'></a>243</span> +scarcely a yard before him. They stumbled on as +though they were in an unlighted cavern. Once Joe +stepped off the track and plunged waist deep in a +hole. Hunt hauled him back by the rope, and after +a moment they went on again. +</p> +<p> +They reached the farther bank and stumbled up +the sleet-covered strand, standing in a group together +for a minute to get their breath and to ease +the binding-rope about their bodies. +</p> +<p> +“I reckon I can smell out the path, boys,” said +their leader, so they started off again. +</p> +<p> +As they pressed upward, now and then they shouted—sometimes +in unison. But their voices could not +penetrate the gale far. The sounds were blown +back into their faces as though rebounding from a +blank wall. +</p> +<p> +At a point some distance up the path Hurley halted +again and allowed the others to approach. He +bawled at them: +</p> +<p> +“There’s a place yonder somewhere under the +cliff—I remember it—a half-shelter. They might +have reached it.” +</p> +<p> +“Don’t get off the path, Joe!” warned Jib Collins. +</p> +<p> +“But if the girls got off the path?” +</p> +<p> +“We don’t want to lose our way,” objected Mack. +</p> +<p> +“I’m going to take a look!” ejaculated Hurley +obstinately. But he could not untie the knot +which held him. He fumbled at it. “Got a knife, +Willie?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_244'></a>244</span> +</p> +<p> +The parson had already drawn out his pocket-knife. +But he slashed the rope between Collins and +himself. +</p> +<p> +“I’m going with you, Joe,” he declared. +</p> +<p> +“Keep shoutin’!” bawled Collins, as the two +younger men started off at a tangent from the path. +</p> +<p> +The bowlders were glassed with ice. The two +friends floundered and slipped about in an awkward +way, straining themselves enormously and not seldom +falling. The one aided the other. It was fortunate, +Hunt realized, that they had come together, +for one man alone could never have accomplished the +journey to the sheer wall of the cliff. +</p> +<p> +Of a sudden there seemed to be a lull in the gale. +Really, they had reached a more sheltered spot. The +storm sang around them, but they were not so terribly +buffeted. +</p> +<p> +Joe shouted again: +</p> +<p> +“Nell! Nell Blossom! Betty!” +</p> +<p> +Hunt joined his voice to that of his friend. They +continued to bellow the girls’ names. Hurley grabbed +the parson’s arm suddenly. +</p> +<p> +“Hush!” +</p> +<p> +There was a response. A wailing voice replied. +</p> +<p> +“It’s Betty! Your sister!” shouted Joe, and +plunged forward, half-dragging the equally excited +Hunt with him. +</p> +<p> +Something loomed up before the latter. He ran +into the barrel of a standing horse! +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_245'></a>245</span> +</p> +<p> +“Here they are!” yelled Hurley. +</p> +<p> +Somehow, the two young men got around the +horses. There was a sheltered place between the +beasts and the wall of rock. Hunt heard his sister +crying and laughing somewhere near. But it was +not she whom he first found. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Mr. Hunt! Oh, Mr. Hunt!” sobbed Nell +Blossom’s voice. “Are you real? You ain’t another +ghost, are you? Oh! Oh!” +</p> +<p> +Hunt’s arms were around the girl, and he held her +fast. Near by, he knew, Joe and Betty were talking—perhaps +were whispering. His own lips were +close to Nell’s ear. +</p> +<p> +“My dear! My dear!” the parson said over and +over again. “God is good to me! I’ve found you +safe.” +</p> +<p> +Nell snuggled into his arms like a frightened +child and clung to him. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_246'></a>246</span><a name='chXXV' id='chXXV'></a>CHAPTER XXV—UNDERSTANDING</h2> +<p> +It was Betty Hunt, who, after all, seemed to possess +the bolder spirit of the two girls. Nell clung +to the parson like a frightened child. He realized, +however, after the first flush of his emotion that he +had allowed his own overpowering desire for the +singer to confuse his mind. The barrier between +them was down for a moment only; he raised it +again himself, for he knew he was taking advantage +unfairly of the terrified girl. +</p> +<p> +It was Hunt, however, who lifted Nell Blossom +into her pony’s saddle with one of the blankets +wrapped well about her, and when Joe Hurley started +away leading Betty’s mount, the parson followed +close behind. The two young men had freed themselves +of each other; but the horses and their riders +bulked so big against the driving curtain of the +storm that they could scarcely lose each other. +</p> +<p> +They heard the other searchers shouting and Joe +pulled his gun from its holster and fired two shots +into the air. The signal was replied to immediately. +In a minute or two Joe ran, head-on, into Jib Collins. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_247'></a>247</span> +</p> +<p> +“Hey! did you find ’em both?” bawled the man. +</p> +<p> +“Youbetcha!” responded Hurley. “When the parson +and I go out, we bring home the bacon, every +time.” +</p> +<p> +They took up the march to the ford. At the +water’s edge one of the other men came to the off +side of each pony, and they forced the snorting animals +into the stream. The foaming barrier did not +look encouraging to the storm-beaten beasts. +</p> +<p> +They all got through safely and up into the +town. The driving storm was changing to snow and +sleet; but the foundation of ice that had first fallen +made walking difficult. The girls were lifted off +their horses and carried up into Betty’s room, where +Maria gave them every assistance in her power. +Somebody put away the horses. Joe scurried off to +his own bachelor shack, while Hunt stripped in his +room and gave himself a savage rub-down with +coarse towels. It had been a terrible experience; but +his spirits and his blood were both in glow! +</p> +<p> +Surely Nell Blossom could not be unfriendly hereafter. +It must be confessed that the parson’s thought +was more entangled with Nell and his recent association +with her than in anything else. +</p> +<p> +Cholo Sam brought up a steaming pot of coffee, +his dark face expanded with delight. +</p> +<p> +“Ah, Señor Hunt!” the Mexican said, “you an’ de +Señor Hurley—you are de pure queel, eh? De boys +all cheer you—my goodness, yes!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_248'></a>248</span> +</p> +<p> +When Hunt was dressed again he went to Betty’s +door and knocked. His sister’s response to his summons +was brisk and cheerful, as usual. Yet, when +he entered and looked keenly at her, he thought there +was something feverish—or was it expectant?—in +the look she gave him. +</p> +<p> +The girls were both in the big bed, heaped with +blankets. Nell’s petite face, ruffled about by one of +Betty’s boudoir caps, was pale. Indeed, the parson’s +sister looked in much the better condition of the +two. The excitement and danger of the adventure +which had befallen them seemed to have affected the +girls in a paradoxical manner. Whereas the Eastern +girl might be expected to be overcome by the affair +and Nell have suffered the adventure as an ordinary +experience, the result seemed really to be the other +way around! Nell lay in the bed pale, almost hysterical +it would seem. Betty could scarcely control +her excitement. +</p> +<p> +“Ford!” she exclaimed, “I need you. Try to +convince this foolish girl that there is no such thing +as a ghost—a real ghost.” +</p> +<p> +Hunt smiled, but he could not be unsympathetic. +He realized that Nell Blossom, being brought up as +she had been—even associating so long with Mother +Tubbs—was probably hopelessly superstitious. He +could not find it in his heart to oppose roughly any +fear Nell might hold regarding supernatural things. +He tried to put his admonition in a kindly way. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_249'></a>249</span> +</p> +<p> +“If there is any truth at all in the matter of +ghosts,” he said, “it must be of a somewhat unreal +nature, must it not? Ghosts are supposed to be too +ethereal for sight or touch or sound. And the only +smell, even, accompanying their visitations, is supposed +to be of brimstone, isn’t it?” +</p> +<p> +“That feller ought to smell of brimstone all right!” +muttered Nell suddenly hectic in her language. “He +ought to come plumb from the bad place.” +</p> +<p> +“What does she mean?” Hunt asked Betty. Yet +he half suspected what was in the singer’s mind. +“Did you girls see——” +</p> +<p> +“Nell declares,” interrupted Betty, still with that +strange excitement, “that she has seen the ghost of +a man she calls Dick Beckworth.” +</p> +<p> +“Dick Beckworth,” Hunt repeated calmly. “You +saw him, I presume,” he watched the pale face on +the pillow all the time, “on the side of the cliff over +yonder? He rode down behind you——” +</p> +<p> +“Do you mean——” gasped Nell. +</p> +<p> +A flame of color flashed into both her cheeks. +Her blue eyes grew round with surprise. +</p> +<p> +“He says he came into town by that path,” the +young man rejoined. “He put us on to the track +of you girls. He said he saw you start down the +path ahead of him.” +</p> +<p> +“He is alive!” murmured Nell. +</p> +<p> +“His horse was in bad shape, I believe,” Hunt +told her. “But the last I knew—just before we left +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_250'></a>250</span> +the Grub Stake to look for you—Dick Beckworth +gave every promise of getting on quite well.” +</p> +<p> +“Dick the Devil!” muttered Nell. “That sure is +his name.” +</p> +<p> +“From what I have heard about him,” said Hunt, +“I think his nickname quite fits him. But it was +probably Tolley’s meanness alone that made you—that +is,” he hastened to correct himself, “that made +all of the trouble. That was thrashed out last evening, +Miss Nell. Steve Siebert and Andy McCann +proved Dick was not dead, although he did go over +the cliff back there in the spring.” +</p> +<p> +“I don’t know what you are both talking about,” +Betty interposed. “Who is this—this—Dick Beckworth, +do you call him?” +</p> +<p> +“A gambler, Betty,” said her brother. “You would +scarcely know such a person. But unfortunately +both Miss Nell and I have been obliged to mix with +all classes of society,” he smiled again, “and so we +know such people.” +</p> +<p> +“Nell should not sing in those places.” Betty +said it with conviction. But in a moment she turned +again to the identity of the man whose reappearance +had startled Nell Blossom so greatly that she had +fainted in the storm. “What—what does this man, +Dick, look like?” +</p> +<p> +“Not an unhandsome fellow,” said the parson generously. +“A somewhat cruel face—ruthless perhaps +would be the better term. Good features; a beautiful +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_251'></a>251</span> +complexion—if such a term should be applied to a +man’s skin,” and he laughed. +</p> +<p> +“You do not like him, Ford!” exclaimed Betty +quickly. +</p> +<p> +“Would I be likely to?” mildly asked her brother. +</p> +<p> +“Oh! But I do not want a psychoanalysis of the +man,” said Betty, and she used a handkerchief to +half hide her own face. “Just what does he look +like?” +</p> +<p> +“Mildly dark. A beautiful, oiled mustache—like +a crow’s wing as the Victorian lady novelists would +say. Heavy black hair. Under different circumstances—you +must remember I saw him only after +he was dragged out of the storm and on the border +of a collapse—I judge Dick Beckworth would be +quite the gentleman in all appearance, and quite the +devil at heart.” +</p> +<p> +“You said it!” agreed Nell. +</p> +<p> +“A mustache—and thick black hair,” murmured +Betty. “Yes. I saw him go by when we were cowering +there under that wall, too. Well, I am relieved.” +Her laugh did not sound right in her +brother’s ears. “I am glad that it did not turn out +to be a real ghost.” +</p> +<p> +Hunt sat down upon a chair at Nell’s side of the +bed. The singer looked at him, and there suddenly +flashed into her eyes a warm light that enhanced +her beauty. She put out a little brown +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_252'></a>252</span> +hand and gripped his, which was only too ready to +be seized. +</p> +<p> +“Parson—Mr. Hunt, you are a good man!” she +said, chokingly. “I heard about what you did last +night. But I didn’t hear all about it; so I didn’t +know Dick was alive. I—I’m mighty wicked, I +reckon. I ain’t glad he didn’t die——” +</p> +<p> +“No need to go into that,” urged Hunt quickly. +“All such things are in the hands of Providence. +But your mind, I hope, Nell, is relieved.” +</p> +<p> +Betty looked from the face of the girl on the +pillow to her brother’s glowing countenance. It was +another shock for Betty Hunt, but she understood. +</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p> +The sudden, sharp blizzard that tore across the +country blew itself out by nightfall. In the morning +the sun shone brilliantly, a warm wind followed +the gale, and the snow and ice melted like a September +frost. It had been only a foretaste of winter. +</p> +<p> +The effect of the incidents of that day remained +longer in the hearts of some of the participators +in the events than it did upon the earth or the rivers, +the rocks and gorges, the frosted herbage, or other +physical and material matters about Canyon Pass. +To be in mutual peril, to suffer alike the buffetings +of the storm, had linked Betty Hunt and Nell +Blossom with a chain that could not lightly be +severed. +</p> +<p> +There was, too, a secret knowledge on the Eastern +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_253'></a>253</span> +girl’s part that made this chain stronger than +Nell imagined. The latter had no suspicion that +Dick Beckworth—Dick the Devil—was a link in the +chain that bound her to the parson’s sister. There +was as well another thing that made the cabaret +singer an object of Betty’s deeper interest. The latter +had seen in her brother’s face something which +had vastly surprised her and something which—had +it been revealed to her before this time—would have +horrified Betty as well as startled her. +</p> +<p> +The Reverend Willett Ford Hunt was plainly and +frankly more concerned in Nell Blossom than he +had any right to be—unless he proposed to declare +himself the singer’s suitor. It was a somewhat +shocking thought for Betty—no two ways about it. +She had scarcely ever considered her brother in the +light of a marrying man, and never here at Canyon +Pass! For it to have been suggested that Hunt +would find an object of sentimental interest in this +Western mining camp would have completely confounded +Betty at an earlier date. +</p> +<p> +And Nell Blossom? A singer in a rough amusement +place that Betty would consider herself +smirched if she entered? Yet—and Betty was surprised +to consider it—she was much less amazed by +her brother’s seeming choice than she presumed +she would be. Besides, there was a reason why +Betty Hunt felt that she might not criticise her +brother’s course in this affair. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_254'></a>254</span> +</p> +<p> +When Nell Blossom had recovered from the exposure +sufficiently to go home to Mother Tubbs, and +that was not until late in the day following the storm, +Betty had gained from her brother all he knew and +much that he surmised regarding Nell’s association +with the gambler who had returned to the Grub +Stake at so dramatic a moment. +</p> +<p> +For his part, Hunt had not the first suspicion that +Betty held any personal interest in the man, Dick +Beckworth. But he knew that his sister suspected +his love for Nell Blossom. +</p> +<p> +Hunt braced himself for an argument, and a +serious one. Betty veered from Nell herself in a +most surprising manner and seemed to feel interest +only in Dick the Devil. +</p> +<p> +“He is scarcely a person in whom you would find +any interest did you meet him, Betty,” declared the +parson. “Believe me, as Joe says, the fellow is +one of those fungi attached to society that would +much better be lopped off than allowed to develop +and spread their vile spawn about.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh!” gasped Betty. “You mean it would have +been better had you and—and Mr. Hurley found the +man’s remains where you found his horse? Oh, +Ford!” +</p> +<p> +“Somehow,” said the parson gravely, “I feel that +way.” +</p> +<p> +“Ford!” cried his sister vehemently. “This is an +awful place! Let—let us go back East.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_255'></a>255</span> +</p> +<p> +The parson shook his head slowly. “No, Betty. +You may go if you wish. I do not blame you for +wanting to give it up. There is no reason why +you should sacrifice yourself. But for me—Canyon +Pass is mine. I will not own to failure. Indeed, my +work is not without promise. I am going to reach +the heart of Canyon Pass in some way, and I will +keep on in the quest as long as I am given strength.” +</p> +<p> +It was Betty’s last outbreak against conditions. +Nor did her brother suspect for a moment the reason +for the sudden renewal of her hatred of the mining +town. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_256'></a>256</span><a name='chXXVI' id='chXXVI'></a>CHAPTER XXVI—THREATENING WEATHER</h2> +<p> +Joe Hurley had taken a new lease on cheerfulness; +yet he scarcely could have explained why his +condition of mind had so suddenly improved. But +it was not difficult for him to put a digit upon that +very moment of time when this new feeling had +dawned in his mind. +</p> +<p> +It was when, with Hunt, he had plowed his way +through the driving storm to the nook under the +sheltering cliff and had, seemingly, by instinct, found +Betty Hunt rather than Nell Blossom. +</p> +<p> +Joe told himself that this very fact—that he had +stumbled upon Betty rather than Nell—was a miracle +of love. +</p> +<p> +All the time they were beating through the blizzard, +crossing the icy river and climbing the steep +path, it seemed to Joe that Betty had been calling +to him. It had been the most natural thing in the +world that at the end of the fearful struggle he should +find in his arms the girl whom he loved and whose +peril had caused him such anguish. +</p> +<p> +And Betty did, quite of her own volition, enter +that shelter. It was no mistake, no chance happening. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_257'></a>257</span> +Betty did not think he was her brother. “Oh, +Joe! I was sure you would find us,” she had said. +</p> +<p> +Joe did not overlook the confession Betty had +made that there was a man back East who must, in +some way, hold her promise if not her affections. +But Joe hoped that by now Betty had taken time +to compare that unknown with himself; and that +he, Joe, had a chance. He decided to await Betty’s +good pleasure. +</p> +<p> +At least, Joe Hurley’s recklessness was submerged +once more in those better qualities that the Reverend +Willett Ford Hunt warmly liked. Joe was bound to +be the parson’s chief assistant and backer in all his +efforts for the betterment of Canyon Pass. And +Hunt faced now—he had seen it coming of course—a +situation that must practically make effective or +mar seriously all that he had striven for since he had +come West. +</p> +<p> +This emergency came up for discussion that Saturday +night in Bill Judson’s Three Star Grocery. +The interest of the more decent element of the town’s +population was centering in the church and in Parson +Hunt’s work. This was a rallying point for +all progressive effort and determination in Canyon +Pass. +</p> +<p> +In addition, the happenings of the past week +seemed to have focused on Hunt and the good work +the eyes of all those Passonians who possessed vision +at all. The almost tragic brawl in Tolley’s Grub +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_258'></a>258</span> +Stake had aroused a great deal of warm discussion. +What did Canyon Pass and Canyon County have a +sheriff for, if roughnecks were to go armed—and +use those arms—just as they had been wont to do +in the old days? +</p> +<p> +“Why, we’re plumb civilized now. We ain’t supposed +to go around wearin’ shootin’-irons and pluggin’ +holes in store-fronts and citizens’ hats. If a +bunch of cow-punchers came riotin’ in yere and +started to shoot up the camp, Sheriff Blaney would +show ’em what-for, blame sudden.” +</p> +<p> +“Youbetcha!” agreed one of the storekeeper’s listeners. +“That’s a true word, Bill. If a man means +to be peaceable, why go ironed at all?” +</p> +<p> +“That’s just it,” complained the gangling Smithy. +“There’s them that ain’t for peace. That’s why the +rest of us hafter go heeled.” +</p> +<p> +Smithy had been waiting on customers with a +gun belted to his waist ever since the night he had +lost two teeth and gained a black eye. Perhaps +the evidence of this gun so prominently displayed +had saved the gangling clerk from much hectoring +comment that he might otherwise have suffered +from some of the patrons of the Three Star. +</p> +<p> +However, Smithy basked in a certain heroic light. +He had been the first to resent Tolley’s scurrilous +tale about Nell Blossom, and no matter what Joe +Hurley and the parson had done later, Smithy’s small +share of glory could not be ignored. On this very +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_259'></a>259</span> +afternoon Nell herself had come into the Three Star +Grocery and thanked Smithy very sweetly for his +courageously expressed opinion on her behalf, the +result of which had rather marred what good looks +Smithy had ever been able to lay claim to. +</p> +<p> +“Layin’ off whatever that boy’s mother said about +him when he was an infant,” drawled Judson, “nobody +ever could honestly say that Smithy should +take a medal for good looks. Now he looks plumb +woeful! I come pretty near bustin’ out crying when +I look at him.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, it’s not as bad as all that, Bill Judson, and +you know it,” Nell declared. “Don’t you believe +him, Smithy. I don’t think it hurts your looks +any.” +</p> +<p> +“It couldn’t,” was Judson’s grim comment. +</p> +<p> +But this missed Smithy. He fairly gasped with +pleasure at Nell’s statement. +</p> +<p> +“Don’t you mind about it, Miss Nell,” he said. “I +was goin’ to have them teeth drawed, anyway. I’ll +get gold ones. And I’d have ’em all knocked out if +’twould do you a mite of good.” +</p> +<p> +Now that the conclave between the serious-minded +citizens had begun, even Smithy was listened to +with some respect. Besides, the gangling one put +forward an unmistakably pregnant fact. +</p> +<p> +“If it wasn’t for Tolley and his gang, wouldn’t +none of us hafter tote guns,” Smithy observed. +</p> +<p> +“Surest thing you know!” exclaimed Collins. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_260'></a>260</span> +“Run them out o’ town and the decent men here +wouldn’t hafter develop saddle-galls from wearing +ten pound or more of iron and lead belted around +their waists. Yes, sir! I’m in favor of reviving the +old vigilance committee and running these yere undesirable +citizens out into the Topaz.” +</p> +<p> +“What would become of them?” put in Hunt +mildly. +</p> +<p> +“Let ’em ‘root, hog, or die’!” muttered Judson. +“Tolley, of course, has got a stake yere. We can’t +take a man’s property away from him. But those +hangers-on of his——” +</p> +<p> +“It is a part of Tolley’s stake that is the immediate +cause of this discussion, gentlemen,” put in +the parson again. “Tolley still owns the place in +which we hold our meetings, and Judson’s lease will +soon run out.” +</p> +<p> +“Run Tolley out,” said Smithy, who had now +enthusiastically taken sides with the church people, +“and you needn’t worry about that shack.” +</p> +<p> +“Maybe he would sell,” Hurley suggested. +</p> +<p> +“You try to buy it,” and Judson grinned. “His +eye teeth has done been cut a far time back. Tolley +ain’t that kind of a fool. He is wise to the +idea that we’d like to buy that place. If you paved +the shack floor with gold eagles Tolley wouldn’t +bite.” +</p> +<p> +“He’d like to bust up the church and run the +parson out, if you ask me,” was the comment of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_261'></a>261</span> +another bystander. “And he’s got a sharp side-pardner +now, boys. I hear tell Dick the Devil is a-hintin’ +that things will go different in Canyon Pass, +now that he’s come back.” +</p> +<p> +“How’s that?” asked Hurley quickly, his eyes +sparkling as they always did when his temper was +ruffled. “What’s Dick got to say about it?” +</p> +<p> +“He don’t favor no parson. He says so.” +</p> +<p> +“Looks to me,” drawled Judson, “that it’s comin’ +close to a show-down. Either we folks that want +a church and decency has got to cave in, or we got to +fight.” +</p> +<p> +“The right kind of fighting, I hope,” said Hunt +quickly. “We must hold our own without open +quarreling.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, it won’t be peaceful when we try to hold +onto Tolley’s shack,” growled Jib Collins. +</p> +<p> +“Look yere,” queried a voice from the dark end +of the store, “what have you shorthorns been doin’ +all this time you’ve had a parson? Why ain’t ye +built him a church?” +</p> +<p> +“Another county heard from!” snapped Judson, +as old Steve Siebert came forward. “Easy enough +to ask that.” +</p> +<p> +“Why don’t ye answer it?” asked the old prospector. +“I see you have got yere in Canyon Pass a +blame good parson. I never seen one I liked better. +I ain’t heard him preach, and I ain’t been to your +meetin’s. But any parson that can walk barehanded +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_262'></a>262</span> +up to a gang like that Boss Tolley and his whelps +gets my vote, and he can have everything I’ve got +when he wants it for his church.” +</p> +<p> +“Them that ain’t got nawthin’ can easy give it +away,” muttered Judson. +</p> +<p> +But it was another voice that ruffled the serenity of +Steve Siebert. On a box by the door the hooped +figure of Andy McCann straightened up. +</p> +<p> +“I reckon,” he sneered, “that that old gray-backed +lizard has got him a poke full o’ nuggets out in +the Topaz, and he’s goin’ to hand it over for to pay +for a church edifice,” and his senile giggle was more +maddening than the laughter of the crowd. +</p> +<p> +“I likely brought in full as much as yonder +ground-owl ever scooped out o’ the ground. But +ye don’t answer my question, neither. Why ain’t +you fellers made some preparation for buildin’?” +</p> +<p> +“Mr. Siebert,” said the parson soothingly, “the +men and women interested in our work have subscribed +several hundred dollars toward a building +fund. But we are none of us prepared to finance +such a work as yet. We wish to put up a fairly +good structure when we get at it. We cannot freight +in the frame and heavier timbers. They must be +cut and sawn on the spot. The expense of getting +in a mill, aside from the labor, is enormous.” +</p> +<p> +“I reckon these hard-shells have tol’ you that because +their pockets squeal ev’ry time they put their +hands in ’em,” growled Siebert. “I know ’em.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_263'></a>263</span> +</p> +<p> +“Look here, old-timer,” said Joe Hurley, sharply, +“we figure it will cost close to ten thousand dollars +to put up a church. What do you say to that?” +</p> +<p> +“Put your hand in your poke and hand over ten +thousand in dust, you miser’ble desert rat!” cackled +Andy McCann. +</p> +<p> +“And how much of it can you rake up, after prospectin’ +this country for nigh on to thutty years?” +was Steve’s answer, glowering at his enemy. +</p> +<p> +“Wal, dern your hide! there was a time when I +might ha’ done my share of it without weepin’ +none,” muttered Andy. “And if it hadn’t been +for you——” +</p> +<p> +“Is that so?” cried the other old man, his face +ablaze with wrath. “And how about me bein’ right +in sight once’t of the most promisin’ lead that ever +was uncovered in Canyon County?” +</p> +<p> +“If it hadn’t been for you,” rejoined Andy, “I +would ha’ been rollin’ in wealth. And you know +it—dad burn your hide!” +</p> +<p> +“Look here,” interjected Joe Hurley, interested +rather than amused. “If you both tell the truth, you +must have together struck a rich streak. Why didn’t +you develop it? You were partners, weren’t you?” +</p> +<p> +“Me, pardners with that yere!” croaked Steve. +</p> +<p> +“D’ye think for one moment,” demanded Andy, +“that I’d help make that feller’s fortune? Not on +your tintype!” +</p> +<p> +Here Judson, with enormous disgust, broke into +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_264'></a>264</span> +the discussion. “Dad burn it!” he exclaimed, “this +ain’t helpin’ none to build the parson a church.” +</p> +<p> +The others were laughing uproariously. Steve +and Andy glared at each other like two angry dogs +with a strong fence between them. But slowly their +fierce expressions changed. Hunt, who was watching +them with something more than idle curiosity, +saw that both old men began to look slyly at each +other as they calmed down. The others paid no +further attention to Steve and Andy, the flurry of +their verbal battle being over. But in the rheumy +eyes of Andy there grew a light which seemed to +register some secret amusement, while Steve’s toothless +grin displayed a humorous appreciation of a +phase of the argument that the bystanders in general +quite failed to catch. +</p> +<p> +“Now,” thought the Reverend Willett Ford Hunt, +“I wonder, to use one of Joe’s favorite expressions, +what those two old fellows have up their sleeves. +Perhaps the joke is on Canyon Pass, rather than +on these two queer old prospectors. I wonder!” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_265'></a>265</span><a name='chXXVII' id='chXXVII'></a>CHAPTER XXVII—SEVERAL CONCLUSIONS</h2> +<p> +Nell Blossom had not gone back to sing at Colorado +Brown’s place. It was some time before Hunt +found this out, and he wondered why she had broken +her agreement with Colorado, for he knew she had +entirely recovered from the effects of her adventure +in the storm. +</p> +<p> +Had the parson asked his sister, Betty might have +illuminated his mind not a little regarding this and +other mysteries about Nell; but he was chary of ever +speaking of the singer in other than a general way +before Betty. +</p> +<p> +To tell the truth, he shrank from any argument +regarding the Blossom of Canyon Pass. He had +learned just how sweet and innocent Nell Blossom +was. But he did not know how far Betty might +approve of the younger girl, especially if he showed +any personal interest in the latter. +</p> +<p> +He was firm in his conviction that Nell Blossom +was a being set apart as his mate from the beginning! +Strange as it might seem at first view, Hunt was +positive that he and the half-tamed mining-camp +girl held much in common. He had found opportunity +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_266'></a>266</span> +to talk with her of late—both at Mother +Tubbs’ and elsewhere—and he knew her tastes and +aspirations far better than before. She had confided +to him, although with much timidity, some +of her girlish desires and her conclusions upon topics +which she had thought seriously about. +</p> +<p> +She was, too, of the very stuff these Canyon Pass +people were made—one of themselves. If he got +Nell Blossom for a wife she would be of greater +aid to him in his work here than any other one person +possibly could be. With Nell Blossom for his +very own, the Reverend Willett Ford Hunt would +indeed have won the Heart of Canyon Pass. +</p> +<p> +Hunt kept all this a secret and said little to +Betty about the cabaret singer. Nothing indeed that +gave her a chance to tell him that her eyes had seen +already most of what he thought was hidden from +her, and seen it in a single glance. +</p> +<p> +As her brother sat beside the bed the day of the +ice-storm and held Nell Blossom’s hand, Betty saw +how it was with the Reverend Willett Ford Hunt. +The only matter that puzzled her at all was Nell’s +possible attitude. Unsophisticated as the mining-camp +girl was, Betty could not know for sure what +Nell’s feeling for the parson was. +</p> +<p> +But Betty might have given Hunt a pretty correct +explanation of why Nell did not go back to sing +at Colorado Brown’s place. The girls were together +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_267'></a>267</span> +almost every day after their adventure in +the storm. +</p> +<p> +Betty did not go to Mother Tubbs’. She scarcely +left the hotel at all in the day time, though going +out on the first Sunday following their perilous adventure +to attend church service. +</p> +<p> +But Nell came to the Wild Rose, and the two +girls grew to know each other better than before. +This because they both wished a closer understanding. +Nell had begun to admire something about +Betty Hunt besides her frocks and the way she manicured +her nails. The parson’s sister now desired +to know Nell better for the parson’s sake. +</p> +<p> +“I’m sick to death, Betty, singing for those roughnecks,” +Nell had burst forth on one occasion. “I +used to think it was great to have ’em cheer me and +clap me off and have ’em throw money at me. But +I’m plumb sick of it.” +</p> +<p> +“It’s a great gift to be able to move people with +one’s voice so.” +</p> +<p> +“It ain’t nothing of the kind!” Nell declared +vehemently. “It’s because they ain’t got no brains—at +least, what they’ve got are addled with hootch. +I’ve only got just a nice, sweet, singing voice. Them +fellers are so plumb ignorant that they hoot and +holler for me because I please ’em. I’d love to be +really able to sing!” +</p> +<p> +“I am not so sure that you cannot sing, as you +mean it,” was Betty’s sympathetic rejoinder. “Merely, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_268'></a>268</span> +you do not sing worth-while songs—altogether.” +</p> +<p> +“I’m mighty ashamed about singing that ‘This Is +No Place for a Minister’s Son,’” burst out Nell +suddenly. +</p> +<p> +“Why, I think it’s funny,” and Betty laughed. +“I’ve often heard Ford humming it.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh! I—I sang it at him, Betty. I did!” +</p> +<p> +“I am quite sure it never disturbed Ford in the +least.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, no, I reckon not. Nothing a girl like me +done——” +</p> +<p> +“Did!” +</p> +<p> +“<em>Did</em>—could bother a man like Parson Hunt.” +</p> +<p> +“I am not so sure of that,” Betty rejoined, eyeing +the other girl keenly. +</p> +<p> +But Nell Blossom, if she had a secret, hid it successfully. +Betty did not miss the opportunity, however, +of trying to help her friend. +</p> +<p> +“Suppose you learn some better songs—some +really worth-while pieces? I brought my music with +me, although I do not know if I shall ever touch a +piano again.” She sighed. “But I sometimes sit +and hum over my favorites. You read music of +course, Nell?” +</p> +<p> +“I don’t know a note—to speak the name of it, I +mean,” confessed the singer. “But I never saw +the piece yet that I couldn’t pick up pretty easy. +Rosabell Pickett says I’m a natural sight-reader with +a great ear for harmony.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_269'></a>269</span> +</p> +<p> +She accepted with gratitude the selections Betty +made from her library. Betty had chosen the songs +with some little guile. That fact was proved by +what occurred later. +</p> +<p> +“Anyway,” Nell concluded, “I ain’t going back to +Colorado’s place for a while. I got some money, +and Sam’s bringing his pay home to Mother Tubbs +pretty reg’lar now. I can live for a while without +singing for those roughnecks, that’s a sure thing!” +</p> +<p> +But Betty had her own grave thoughts—thoughts +that kept her awake at night. Hollow eyes and certain +twitching lines about her sensitive mouth were +the result of these secret cogitations. Hunt noticed +his sister’s changed appearance but he misunderstood +its source. He feared that Betty found the life at +Canyon Pass, with winter coming on, too hard to +bear. Yet he saw that she always cheered up when +Joe Hurley ran in to see them. +</p> +<p> +The Eastern girl’s trouble did not arise from the +locality in which she was forced to live; it was the +presence of one person in the town that caused her +such serious thoughts. The man who had passed +Nell Blossom and her in the storm, whose unexpected +appearance had made Nell faint, had shocked Betty +much more deeply than he did the singer! +</p> +<p> +Without that heavy mustache, with his waving +hair cut more to conform to Eastern ideas of propriety, +the girl visualized the fellow as she had once +known Andy Wilkenson. He was the man, thought +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_270'></a>270</span> +of whom had so worried Betty’s mind for these long +months since she had left Grandhampton Hall. Andy +Wilkenson! The man she had hoped never to see +or hear from again. Her worst fears on coming +West were now realized. And his reappearance here +at Canyon Pass warned Betty that she could never +allow Joe Hurley to see just how much she had +learned to care for him. +</p> +<p> +She went to church on that next Sunday morning +in fear and trembling. She sat well forward as +usual. But she knew when “Dick Beckworth” came +in and sat down in one of the rear seats. +</p> +<p> +His coming here surprised them all. Heads were +turned, and there was whispering. Dick was dressed +in the same flashy way, for he had left a trunk at +the Grub Stake when he went away in the spring. +He sat during the sermon with a sneer on his handsome +face and the dancing light of the demon flickering +in his hard eyes. Hunt usually met strangers +after the meeting with a cordial handclasp. He did +not approach Dick Beckworth. +</p> +<p> +Betty drew a veil across her face before she arose +for the benediction. She waited to return to the +hotel with her brother. +</p> +<p> +She was the only person in the assembly who was +not amused by the appearance of the two old prospectors, +Siebert and McCann, at the service. They +did not come in together; and when Andy McCann +entered to see Steve seated at one side, he chose a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_271'></a>271</span> +seat just as far from the other old-timer as he could +and on the other side of the house. Their scowls +turned on each other were more significant than +words. +</p> +<p> +Hunt did not let Steve and Andy get away without +a personal word with them. +</p> +<p> +“I am very glad to welcome you among us, Mr. +McCann,” he said to that individual when he shook +the pocket-hunter’s wrinkled claw. +</p> +<p> +“Wal, it’s all right, I reckon,” muttered Andy. +“In a meetin’ you’ve got to stand for most anybody +droppin’ in. But that old rip,” nodding toward the +distant Steve, “would look a heap better ’cordin’ +to my idee in jail than at church.” +</p> +<p> +“We must be charitable, Mr. McCann,” said the +parson, moving toward the other prospector. +</p> +<p> +Old Steve was quite as bitter in his comment. +But he added something, too, that gave Hunt pause. +</p> +<p> +“It seems a good deal like old times. I used to +go to church reg’lar, onc’t,” said Siebert. “But I +miss something, parson—I sure do.” +</p> +<p> +“What’s that?” asked Hunt smiling. +</p> +<p> +“Let alone I never expected to see that old has-been +at meetin’—an’ I don’t reckon he’s come for +any good—I see you don’t look jest like a preacher +ought to look. Say, don’t ministers dress different +no more from other folks? You might be a banker +or a gambler as far as your coat goes to show.” +</p> +<p> +The blunt criticism shocked Hunt not a little. Up +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_272'></a>272</span> +to this time he had carefully eschewed clerical dress. +He began to wonder if, after all, he was not making +a mistake. +</p> +<p> +Dick Beckworth was not on the street when the +parson and his sister went back to the hotel. In fact +Dick had slipped out very soon after the meeting +ceased and was then in conference with Boss Tolley +in the little office at the end of the long bar +in the Grub Stake. +</p> +<p> +“Well,” said Tolley, eagerly, “did you see her?” +</p> +<p> +“Sure as sure.” +</p> +<p> +“Is it her?” demanded the dive keeper, grinning +like a wolf. +</p> +<p> +“It sure is. It’s her that was Betty Hunt.” +</p> +<p> +“Dad burn it! And she paradin’ ’round here like +an unmarried woman. Dick, we got that parson on +the hip.” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_273'></a>273</span><a name='chXXVIII' id='chXXVIII'></a>CHAPTER XXVIII—CATASTROPHE</h2> +<p> +No more snow or ice had followed that first sharp, +furious blizzard; but with the higher temperature +had come heavy rainstorms which the natives declared +were quite unseasonable. The rivers were +bank full. The lower end of Main Street was +washed by the water from both Forks. Several families +had been obliged to move into the higher part +of the town. +</p> +<p> +But the flood had not driven Mother Tubbs and +her little family out of their home. The wise old +woman did not know just why Nell Blossom sang +no more at the dance hall; but in her mind she knew +that “suthin’ was workin’ on that gal.” Meanwhile +she proceeded to “work on” Sam as usual. +</p> +<p> +Rocking on her back porch with the vista of +dreary yards under her eye, but the rugged beauties +of the Topaz Range in the distance, she philosophized +as usual on all things both spiritual and mundane. +Sam was pottering about a broken table that she had +convinced him he must mend before he left the +premises for a stroll into the town, it being Saturday +afternoon. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_274'></a>274</span> +</p> +<p> +“I must say, too, that it seems as peaceful as Sunday +back in Missouri—or pretty near,” Mother +Tubbs observed. “Things is changed yere in Canyon +Pass. Ye must admit it, Sam.” +</p> +<p> +“Drat it!” snarled her husband, sucking a thumb +he had just smashed with his hammer. “I admit it +all right. The Pass is gettin’ plumb wuthless to +live in. Psalm singin’, and preachin’, and singin’ +meetings, and sech. Huh! Parson wants me to come +to Bible class.” +</p> +<p> +After all he said it with some pride. Sam had, +as he expressed it, “a sneakin’ likin’” for the parson. +But he was determined not to show that this +was so before Mother Tubbs. +</p> +<p> +“Ain’t you glad to live less like a savage—more +decent and civilized like—than you useter, Sam +Tubbs?” demanded the old woman. +</p> +<p> +“I was satisfied as I was,” grunted her husband. +“I ain’t one o’ them that’s always wantin’ change +and somethin’ new. If I had been, I’d picked me a +new woman before now.” +</p> +<p> +“The pickin’ ain’t very good in Canyon Pass,” rejoined +Mother Tubbs complacently. “Them that’s +got husbands don’t want to exchange. ’Twould be +like jumpin’ out of the skillet onto the coals. Them +women that ain’t got nary man are well content, I +reckon, to get on without one if you, Sam Tubbs, +are the only hope they got.” +</p> +<p> +“Huh!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_275'></a>275</span> +</p> +<p> +Nell’s sweet, clear voice floated down from the +upper chamber. In accents that caressed, she sang +an old song which she had found in Betty Hunt’s +music, arranged for solo use. +</p> +<p> +“Hear that child, Sam!” whispered the old woman, +wiping her eyes when the pleading verse was +finished. “Ain’t that heaven-born?” +</p> +<p> +“Huh!” said Sam, but in truth a little doubtfully. +“I never considered our Nell as bein’ pertic’lar angelic. +No ma’am! Not before.” +</p> +<p> +“She’s as good as any angel,” declared Mother +Tubbs with conviction. “Only she’s flighty. Or +useter be. And if she’d just go and sing them songs +at meetin’, Canyon Pass would learn for once just +what good singin’ is.” +</p> +<p> +“I dunno but you’re right, old woman,” said Sam +softly, as the voice from above took up the song +again. “I’ve heard Nell Blossom sing many a time +before; but it never so sort o’ caught in muh cogs +as that song does. But she can’t sing them kind o’ +tunes in Colorado Brown’s or the Grub Stake.” +</p> +<p> +“Hush, Sam! Don’t mention it!” whispered his +wife. “I hope to the Lord she won’t never hafter +work in them places again.” +</p> +<p> +“Huh! How’s she going to live?” asked the +startled Sam. +</p> +<p> +“You leave it to Parson Hunt,” declared Mother +Tubbs in the same secretive way, “and Nell Blossom +won’t never no more hafter sing for her livin’.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_276'></a>276</span> +</p> +<p> +Sam stared. His bald head flushed as his eyes +began to twinkle and the knowing grin wreathed his +sunken lips. He suddenly burst into a cackle of delight. +</p> +<p> +“D’ye mean it? The parson? By mighty! So +he’s willin’ to go the way of all flesh, is he? Nell +needn’t work no more for her livin’ if she don’t +want?” +</p> +<p> +“You poor fool,” scornfully said his wife, holding +up one of his enormous blue yarn socks with a +gaping hole in the heel, “if the parson is as hard on +his socks as you are, Sam Tubbs, Nell will have +her work cut out for her—sure as sure!” +</p> +<p> +It was the very next night that Nell Blossom +sang for the first time at the Canyon Pass church +service. She had been twice to morning service before +this, coming in alone, refusing to sit near +Mother Tubbs or Betty, and remaining silent even +through the hymns. In truth, she had never learned +those hymns that chanced to be given out on those occasions. +Rosabell Pickett did yeoman’s service at +the badly tuned piano; but her own voice had the +sweetness of a crow with the carrying power of that +same non-soothing bird. Rosabell kept the hymns +going; but sometimes Hunt could have wished for +even Miss Pelter of the Ditson Corners’ choir to +carry the air! +</p> +<p> +As has been said, the Sunday evening service at +Tolley’s old shack was not so formal as the morning +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_277'></a>277</span> +session. Hunt tried in the evening to lead the +singing himself. He had managed through the summer +to teach the young folks several of the newer +and more sprightly songs out of the collection he had +brought with him from the East. Some of the +rougher young men who filled the rear benches in the +evening were glad to make a noise with something +besides their heavy boots, and they “went in” for the +singing with gusto. +</p> +<p> +On this evening Nell came in with Mother Tubbs +and Sam, but she sat down on the front bench between +Betty and Rosabell Pickett. She handed +some sheets of music to Rosabell, and Betty recognized +them with a flush of pleasure. It was plain +that the accompanist had been prepared for Nell’s +new move. +</p> +<p> +“Do you think Mr. Hunt would let me sing a +song?” whispered Nell to Betty. +</p> +<p> +“Let you!” returned Betty eagerly. “He’ll love +you for it.” +</p> +<p> +Perhaps the emphatic statement was made by the +parson’s sister without thought of how it sounded. +Nell’s flower-like face warmed to a flush that spread +from the collar of her blouse to the waving tendrils +of hair under her hat brim. She hid her face quickly +from Betty. The latter, perhaps somewhat wickedly, +enjoyed the other girl’s confusion. Her heart +had suddenly expanded to Nell and her brother Ford. +If she saw no happiness ahead of her in life, Betty +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_278'></a>278</span> +Hunt had begun to hope that the Reverend Willett +Ford Hunt and the Canyon Pass blossom would +realize all the happiness that a loving pair could +compass. +</p> +<p> +With a whisper and a head shake Betty informed +the parson of what he might expect from Nell at +this meeting. Her presence had already filled Hunt’s +heart with singing. Now, before his talk to the congregation—it +was not a sermon—he smiled at Nell +and sat down while she sang the song she had prepared +and that had so stirred the hearts of Mother +Tubbs and Sam the day before. +</p> +<p> +Rosabell Pickett for once got the spirit of the +composition. She played the accompaniment softly, +and she slurred over the sour notes of the old piano. +When Nell stood up a hush of expectancy fell upon +the congregation. Even the boot-scrapings from +the back benches were silenced. +</p> +<p> +Never had Canyon Pass heard Nell Blossom sing +so sweetly. The girl’s tones fairly gripped the heart-strings +of her hearers and wrung them. The tears +rolled down good old Mother Tubbs’ face. Sam sat +beside her, looking straight ahead more like a gargoyle +than ever, afraid to wink for fear the salt +drops would carom from his bony cheeks. Steve +Siebert in his corner, and Andy McCann in his—as +far apart as the width of the room would allow—looked +like their burros, carved out of desert rock. +Nothing seemed to move those old fellows. But the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_279'></a>279</span> +rest of the congregation—even the roughnecks on +the back seats—were subdued when the song was +done. +</p> +<p> +After the service Hunt apprehended a new note in +the manner and speech of his flock. He scarcely +realized that his own talk had been more spiritual +than usual because of the emotion roused within him +by Nell’s song. There was a hush over the room. +The noisy fellows went out on tiptoe. Voices were +subdued. For almost the first time the atmosphere +of this rough room where they “held meetings” had +become that of a real house of worship. +</p> +<p> +“Steve Siebert is right,” the parson told himself +not without gravity. “It is time that I should +show my own respect beyond peradventure for the +religion I preach. Betty must shake the mothballs +out of that coat.” +</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p> +Lizard Dan tooled his six mules across the East +Fork. The water was more than waist deep, and +the beasts swam for part of the way, and the inside +passengers sat on the small of their backs with +their boots up on the cross-straps. The driver urged +the team with voice and whip up the muddy rise to +the Wild Rose. His desert-stained face was full of +wrinkles of excitement. Joe Hurley, who chanced +to be lingering at the door of the hotel, spied the +emotion in the bus-driver’s countenance. +</p> +<p> +“What’s got you, old-timer?” asked the mining +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_280'></a>280</span> +man, strolling down to the step below the driver. +“Something on the road over from Crescent City +bite you?” +</p> +<p> +“I got bit all right,” growled Lizard Dan. He +stooped to put his tobacco stained lips close to Joe’s +ear. “The sheriff of Cactus County rode over on +the seat with me. Yeppy! And he dropped off +back yonder to talk to Sheriff Blaney.” +</p> +<p> +“Something doing?” +</p> +<p> +“Youbetcha! The Cactus County sheriff was tellin’ +me. He’s been after a guy that turned a trick +last summer—fore part of the summer in fact—’way +out beyond Hoskins. He was some pretty +shrewd short-card tin-horn, if you ask me.” +</p> +<p> +“A gambler? Anybody know him?” asked Joe +quite idly. +</p> +<p> +“I didn’t get his name. The sheriff was pumpin’ +me a lot about who was new—if any—in Canyon +Pass. I told him,” and Dan grinned widely, “that +’bout the newest citizens we had yere was Parson +Hunt and his sister.” +</p> +<p> +“You’re some little josher, aren’t you, Dan?” said +Joe, grimly. “What had the feller done?” +</p> +<p> +“The one the sheriff’s after? Cleaned out a sheep +camp with marked cards and then made his get-a-way +under a gun. Cool as the devil! Shot one of +those sheepticks—I mean to say, a shepherd. Never +did have much use for sheep men——” +</p> +<p> +“Me neither,” admitted Hurley. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_281'></a>281</span> +</p> +<p> +“But they are ha’f human—leastways, that’s how +I look at ’em,” pursued Lizard Dan. “They should +have their chance. Marked cards and a gun is no +way to win their spondulicks. No, sir.” +</p> +<p> +“What makes the Cactus County officer think the +sharper came this way?” +</p> +<p> +“Says he and a posse follered him to the Canyon +County line, up yonder, ’long back in the summer. +They figgered he’d gone Lamberton way, so +they swayed off and didn’t come yere. Now something +new has come up about the feller, I take it, +and the Cactus County sheriff has come yere to get +Blaney to help comb this part of the territory. I told +him we didn’t have no loose gamblers yere. They +all got jobs and have held ’em some time.” +</p> +<p> +“Tolley is always picking up new hombres,” said +Hurley thoughtfully. “I can’t keep run of all the +scabby customers he brings in here.” +</p> +<p> +“But not card-sharps,” said Lizard Dan, shaking +his head. “He ain’t got a new dealer in a dog’s +age. You wouldn’t count Dick Beckworth one. +It’s just like he’s always been yere.” +</p> +<p> +He waddled away with the mail sacks and his +large-bore gun. Hurley found himself suddenly +startled by an entirely uncalled-for thought. Surely +nothing Lizard Dan had said should have inspired +this: +</p> +<p> +Dick Beckworth had been away from Canyon +Pass from the early springtime until recently. He +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_282'></a>282</span> +had ridden in from the wilderness on the occasion +of the first blizzard. Where had the gambler been +during the months he was missed at the Grub +Stake? +</p> +<p> +Hurley was half tempted to go to the Grub Stake +and make an inquiry or two, but since that notable +night when Steve Siebert had held up Tolley and +his gang, Joe had seldom been inside the place. He +did, however, wander along the now quiet street +toward the honkytonk. +</p> +<p> +It was drawing toward evening, and a drizzle of +rain, which had threatened all day, swept across +the West Fork and muffled the town almost instantly +as in a gray blanket. The roar of Runaway +River in the canyon blew back into Joe’s ears and +made him deaf to most other sounds. +</p> +<p> +But as he crossed the mouth of the alley beside +Tolley’s place he heard a sharp “Hist!” He turned +to look. A girl, wrapped in a fluttering cloak, stood +there, dimly revealed in the thicker darkness of the +alley. +</p> +<p> +“Well, what do you want?” demanded the mining +man. +</p> +<p> +“Mr. Hurley!” +</p> +<p> +“Great saltpeter! what’s the matter, Rosy?” +</p> +<p> +“Hush! Shet your yawp!” warned the piano +player. “Want to get me into trouble?” +</p> +<p> +“Not a bit. What’s up?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_283'></a>283</span> +</p> +<p> +“I don’t know. But it’s something—something +bad.” +</p> +<p> +“Bad? About whom?” +</p> +<p> +“Parson Hunt and his sister Betty.” +</p> +<p> +“Betty Hunt?” muttered the mining man with an +emphasis that would have told a woman of much +less discernment than Rosabell Pickett all that was +necessary. +</p> +<p> +“Yeppy. You like her, Joe Hurley. You want +to look out for her. Somebody has got to. That +Dick Beckworth——” +</p> +<p> +“Dick the Devil?” +</p> +<p> +“You said it! He’s got something on her.” +</p> +<p> +“He’s got something on Betty Hunt? Never!” +</p> +<p> +“No use layin’ your hand on your gun butt. It +needs something besides that. When fire’s touched +to the end of the fuse, no use tryin’ to stamp on the +ashes. It is burning toward the powder barrel. The +thing’s started. Dick’s told it about her——” +</p> +<p> +“Told what?” asked Hurley, almost shaking the +girl. +</p> +<p> +“That she was married back East, long before +she come out here, and is posing here as an unmarried +woman. He says he knows the man that was +married to her.” +</p> +<p> +Hurley was stricken dumb for the moment. Yet +recovery was swift. He stammered: +</p> +<p> +“She—she might. It’s no crime. She—she might +have got a divorce and taken her maiden name again, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_284'></a>284</span> +if it’s true. But I wouldn’t take Dick the Devil’s +word as to the color of the blue sky.” +</p> +<p> +“He’s got a paper to prove it. I seen him show +it to Boss Tolley. I run to get you. I saw you at +the Wild Rose. I figger you are the one to tell +the parson.” +</p> +<p> +“And who’s to tell Betty?” Joe inquired. “I—I——” +</p> +<p> +“Oh! What’s that?” exclaimed Rosabell, shrinking +away. “I—I thought it was thunder.” +</p> +<p> +A muttering sound grew in Hurley’s hearing, +but he paid little attention to it at first. Was it this +Betty had meant all the time, when she had kept him +at arm’s length? When she had told him that there +was somebody back East who, at least, had her +promise? +</p> +<p> +Then the air quaked as though there had been a +volcanic upheaval within the immediate district of +Canyon Pass. Rosabell shrieked and ran back into +the gloom, disappearing toward the rear door of the +Grub Stake. Joe ran out into the street, seeing +other men coming from the shops and saloons. +</p> +<p> +His gaze by chance was turned upon the wagon +track down the slope beyond the West Fork. He +saw a flaming patch of white there. It came down +the wagon track with terrific speed. In a moment +he realized that it was a white pony and rider. +</p> +<p> +Lashing the steed the rider forced it into the West +Fork. The animal had to swim for it. It seemed +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_285'></a>285</span> +as though the stream had filled terrifically within +the last few minutes. +</p> +<p> +Out of the flood scrambled the pony. It was not +until then that anybody recognized Nell Blossom and +her cream-colored mount. She urged the horse up +into the town and they heard her clear voice rising +above the sullen thunder of the three rivers: +</p> +<p> +“The Overhang! The Overhang! It’s down—it’s +filled the canyon! Runaway River is stoppered +like with a cork in the neck of a bottle. The flood +is coming!” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_286'></a>286</span><a name='chXXIX' id='chXXIX'></a>CHAPTER XXIX—HIS LAST CARD</h2> +<p> +Hunt lingered in his sister’s room after Joe Hurley +had left them. They were talking when Maria +came up to take away the tea things. The Mexican +woman was greatly excited. +</p> +<p> +“Those bad men! She get it now—in the neck +you say, si? My goodness, yes! He no run you +out of town lak’ he say, Señor Hunt.” +</p> +<p> +“Who is this who wants to run me out?” asked +Hunt good-naturedly. “I must be getting awfully +unpopular in some quarters.” +</p> +<p> +“Those bad man at Tolley’s Grub Stake. Ah, +yes, Señor! She hate you—my goodness, yes!” +</p> +<p> +Betty began to be troubled—as she always was +when she heard her brother’s peace threatened. +</p> +<p> +“Have you heard something new, Maria?” she +asked the woman. +</p> +<p> +“Cholo, he hear. He come just now from the +sheriff. A man come to town and he say he want +those bad man.” +</p> +<p> +“What bad man? Not my brother?” cried Betty. +</p> +<p> +“<em>Madre de Dios!</em> Is the Señor Hunt bad?” +gasped Maria. “Why, it is Dick the Deevil I say.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_287'></a>287</span> +</p> +<p> +“Ah-ha!” muttered Hunt, with more interest than +surprise. He did not look at Betty. “This man +has something against Dick Beckworth?” +</p> +<p> +“Cholo whisper to me, jus’ now, before I come up +here, that the sheriff weel arres’ Dick the Deevil. +For robbery and swindle, you say. Si!” +</p> +<p> +“This is news!” ejaculated Hunt, putting on his +coat and hat. “I must go down and get the particulars.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Ford!” +</p> +<p> +What Betty might have said—how much she +might have betrayed of her secret to her brother at +that moment—will never be known. Before he +could turn to look at her anguished face the house +shook, and an atmospheric tremor seemed to pass +over the town. An “airquake” was the better term +for it! And with it they heard a continuous thundering +roar that seemed to mingle with, yet almost +drown, the chorus of the rivers which had been a +monotone in their ears all day. +</p> +<p> +Maria screamed and flew out of the room. Hunt +exclaimed: +</p> +<p> +“Something’s blown up at one of the mines, perhaps. +But Joe is all right. He could not have got +far away from the hotel.” +</p> +<p> +It was not until he ran down and reached the street +that he learned the truth. Nell had pulled in her +wet and exhausted pony before the hotel and was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_288'></a>288</span> +surrounded by the excited populace. Joe was with +her, and Hunt, seeing both safe, was relieved. +</p> +<p> +The parson listened to her story with amazement +and some of the dread that the older inhabitants of +Canyon Pass felt. Something like this had happened +twenty years before. She had seen a great +landslide—a large part of the Overhang she thought—fall +into the canyon. Already the rivers were +backing up. Filled as they were by the recent unseasonable +rains, the flood, if the canyon bed was +really closed by the landslide, would soon rise into +the town. +</p> +<p> +Hunt and Hurley joined a party that launched a +big batteau to go down the Runaway to the first +turn in the canyon wall to see just what the danger +was. Most of the other inhabitants of Canyon Pass +were crowding into Main Street. It might be that +all would have to get back to the headlands where +the mines were in order to escape the flood. +</p> +<p> +Betty, alone in her room in the hotel, saw the +people milling about below and could only guess +what it meant. She did not dare go down to ask +about the catastrophe, and Maria did not return. +But as she sat there, trembling not altogether from +fear of what might happen to the town, she saw +the knob of her door turn slowly. There was somebody +in the hall—somebody coming in! +</p> +<p> +In her terror—terror of she knew not what—the +girl could not move. She could only watch the frail +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_289'></a>289</span> +door sag slowly open. She saw a hand with a +sparkling diamond upon it. But it was a man’s +hand. A shoulder appeared as the door was thrust +farther inward. +</p> +<p> +Then she saw the face of the intruder. +</p> +<p> +“Andy Wilkenson!” +</p> +<p> +Betty did not know that her voice was audible. +But as the man slid in with the sleekness of a cat +and closed the door behind him, he whispered: +</p> +<p> +“So you know me all right, do you? Then that +makes it easier. You’ve got to hide me, Betty. +They are after me. I got out of the Grub Stake +through a window—just in time.” +</p> +<p> +He laughed. There was a reckless gayety in his +manner that was forced; but it seemed to Betty +more terrible than if he had shown fear. +</p> +<p> +“You wouldn’t want them to get your husband, +would you, honey?” he went on, his back against +the door, his eyes glittering. “And there’s going to +be high water. I can’t get away at once. I’ve got +to hide. You’ll have to keep me here.” He +chuckled. “A girl wouldn’t give her hubby up to +the sheriff, would she? I——” +</p> +<p> +“Go away!” she gasped. +</p> +<p> +“Not a chance!” exclaimed Dick lightly. “That +sheriff will comb the town. But he will never come +into your bedroom, honey. And I’m going to stay +here till the flurry is over.” +</p> +<p> +He took a step into the room. Betty shrank from +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_290'></a>290</span> +him. Her eyes were now aflame—and there was +something besides fear in them. +</p> +<p> +“I will give you time to get out, Andy Wilkenson,” +she said hoarsely. “But no more. All I have +to do is to raise this window and scream——” +</p> +<p> +“Dare to!” he snapped. “I’ll stay right here. +You’re my wife——” +</p> +<p> +“Nobody will believe that if I deny it!” she exclaimed. +</p> +<p> +“So you think I can’t prove it?” He laughed +again. “I know that you would deny it if you could. +I know that you even tore up the marriage certificate +that old minister gave you. But I went back +to him and got a copy. And I have got a copy of +the license record, and all. Think I’m a fool? You +may have fooled me about your aunt’s money; but +one never knows when such a moment as this may +come. If you give me up to the sheriff, I’ll tell ’em +all just who and what you are. Mrs. Andy Wilkenson! +Sounds good, don’t it? And ‘Andy Wilkenson’ +is Dick Beckworth. Being married under an +assumed name don’t make the tie any less binding, +Betty. You are married to me hard and fast, and +I’m going to turn the fact to good account. Don’t +doubt it!” +</p> +<p> +“I—I’ll call my brother,” said Betty weakly. +</p> +<p> +“I bet he doesn’t know, either. Nor that Joe Hurley +you’ve been chumming around with,” and Dick +chuckled hugely. “Oh, I’ve got you, my girl. You +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_291'></a>291</span> +had the chance to call me, and call me good, that +time. But it’s my turn now. You are going to +hide me here, and then help me get away. I know +your breed. You’d die rather than let the story of +our marriage get to the people of Canyon Pass.” +</p> +<p> +The girl sat huddled in the chair by the window. +She stared at him with an intensity of horror that +seemed to have paralyzed her whole body. And +what he said—his final declaration—she knew was +true. +</p> +<p> +She would much rather die than have it revealed +to all Canyon Pass that Dick the Devil was the discarded +husband of the Reverend Willett Ford Hunt’s +sister! +</p> +<p> +The smile with which Dick watched the agonized +girl marked the cruelty that was the underlying trait +of his whole character. He knew she suffered. He +knew how she suffered now. And he exulted in it. +</p> +<p> +But he was, too, fearful for his own safety. The +crime he had committed miles away across the sheep +range, and which had set the sheriff on his track, +was a most despicable one. It was, too, in this +community a crime that might easily excite the passions +of the rougher element. Men had been lynched +for much less than Dick Beckworth’s crime! +</p> +<p> +With night coming on, the waters about the town +rising, and no means for quick egress before morning +at least, Dick the Devil realized that his only +hope lay with this tortured girl. Aside from the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_292'></a>292</span> +satisfaction it gave him to make her shield him, he +was quite aware that no better place than Betty +Hunt’s room could be imagined in which he might +hide from the officers. +</p> +<p> +“There’s a closet,” he said finally, seeing the small +door in the partition. “Put me in that. You can +let your brother in if you like—or Joe Hurley.” +He sneered at her. “They’ll never believe the proper +Betty Hunt has a man hidden in her room. What’s +that?” +</p> +<p> +He hissed the question, grabbing the handle of +the closet door, and looked back at the one opening +from the hall. There was a light step outside; the +door-knob rattled. +</p> +<p> +“Quick!” breathed Dick. “Don’t say a +word——” +</p> +<p> +He tried to open the closet door. Although it +was a spring latch, it was likewise locked. All +Betty’s little valuables were in the closet, and she +had the key. +</p> +<p> +“The key!” shrilled the man. “You fool! Do +you want me to give the thing away? As sure as +you are alive I’ll tell them you’re my wife. Quick!” +</p> +<p> +Betty did not move. She shook her head. The +door-knob was again rattled. A muffled voice cried: +</p> +<p> +“Betty!” +</p> +<p> +The knob turned—as it had before, slowly, hesitatingly. +The door was pushed inward. Dick the +Devil snatched a pistol from its sling under his left +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_293'></a>293</span> +armpit, with the motion of a rattlesnake about to +strike. +</p> +<p> +Nell Blossom stepped into the room and closed +the door swiftly behind her. She had seen Betty. +Her cry of “Betty! what’s happened?” was answered +by a sigh from Dick of such relief that it +seemed like a sob. +</p> +<p> +Alert as she could be, Nell wheeled to look at +the man. Although there was no light in the room +and the evening was drawing on, the singer knew +that half-crouching figure at first glance. She saw, +too, the flash of the weapon in the gambler’s hand. +</p> +<p> +“Dick Beckworth! I might have known you’d +come sneaking to a girl’s room to hide,” said Nell, +her voice quite unshaken. “Put away that gun. +I’m not the sheriff.” +</p> +<p> +Dick was silent. But he had the grace to put +away his gun. Nell said to Betty: +</p> +<p> +“Has he scared you, honey? Don’t you mind. +Dick the Devil has got his comeupance this time, I +reckon. The minute he steps out of this house +they’ll nab him. Somebody saw him sneak in by +the back way. But nobody thought of his daring +to come into your room. Come on, you, get out! +Take your miserable carcass off to some other part +of the house.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Nell!” breathed Betty. +</p> +<p> +“Don’t you be afraid, honey,” said the cabaret +singer again. “This rascal knows me, I reckon. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_294'></a>294</span> +It’s too bad he wasn’t killed—like I thought he was—back +last spring when I was fool enough to be +caught by his sleek ways and talk. Oh, yes! I +played the fool. And I come pretty near believing +since that time that there wasn’t any decent men +in the world. All because of that whelp.” +</p> +<p> +For once Dick Beckworth had nothing to say. +At another time he might have flouted the girl. But +the moment was not propitious. He stood and +glared from Nell to Betty, and back again; but said +nothing. +</p> +<p> +“Come! Beat it!” said Nell harshly. “Don’t you +hear me?” +</p> +<p> +“I am going to remain here,” Dick said in a low +voice. “Right here.” +</p> +<p> +“Not much!” Nell wheeled to open the door. +“I’ll call ’em up. They are watching for you below.” +</p> +<p> +“Nell!” gasped Betty. +</p> +<p> +“You better speak for me,” sneered Dick. “I +don’t reckon that you two girls will turn me over +to the sheriff. Don’t forget, Nellie, that once I was +your honey-boy.” +</p> +<p> +The mining-camp girl’s whole person seemed to +fire under this spur. Her face blazed. She was +tense with wrath—wrath that she could not for the +moment audibly express. +</p> +<p> +But when she did speak her voice was as hard as +ice and her accents as cold: +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_295'></a>295</span> +</p> +<p> +“Dick Beckworth, you get out of here! March!” +</p> +<p> +“Not much.” +</p> +<p> +Nell had been riding. She never went abroad +on horseback without wearing her belt and gun. +The latter flashed into her hand too quickly for +Dick to have again produced his weapon, had he so +desired. +</p> +<p> +“Put ’em up!” was Nell’s concise command. +“Don’t flutter a finger wrong. I been thinking for +months that I saw you go over that cliff to your +death. Maybe I worried some over being the possible +cause of your taking that drop. But I feel a +whole lot different about you now, Dick Beckworth. +Keep your hands up and march out of this room.” +</p> +<p> +The man, sneering, his countenance torn with emotion, +his eyes as glittering as those of an angered +serpent, came forward into the middle of the room +again. He was staring at Betty rather than at +Nell. He said to the former: +</p> +<p> +“You going to let me go out, Betty?” +</p> +<p> +“Oh! Oh! I——” +</p> +<p> +“Don’t mind even to answer him—the dog!” Nell +muttered. “I swear, after this, I would not lift a +hand to stop the boys from stringing him up.” +</p> +<p> +“Is that so?” queried Dick, turning to her again. +“You think you’ve got things your own way, don’t +you? I’ll show you. Betty! tell this girl what and +who I am and why I am not going to leave this +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_296'></a>296</span> +room. Tell her, my dear, why you can’t bear to +see me given up to the sheriff.” +</p> +<p> +“You dog!” ejaculated Nell. +</p> +<p> +“Tell her, Betty,” commanded Dick, but without +raising his voice. +</p> +<p> +The parson’s sister, fairly writhing in her chair, +put up her clasped hands to Nell. She whispered +brokenly: +</p> +<p> +“Don’t—don’t send him out. Don’t tell, Nell. +I—I couldn’t bear it!” +</p> +<p> +“In the name of common sense,” queried the +singer, “what do you mean? This fellow’s frightened +you out of your wits.” +</p> +<p> +“No, no! For my sake——” +</p> +<p> +“You’re crazy. He can’t hurt you. I have him +under my gun. If he makes a move——” +</p> +<p> +“Betty!” shot in Dick. +</p> +<p> +“For Ford’s sake let him stay!” begged Betty, +and sank back in her chair again, almost at the point +of collapse. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_297'></a>297</span><a name='chXXX' id='chXXX'></a>CHAPTER XXX—CLEARING SKIES</h2> +<p> +Betty Hunt had, after all, retained her self-possession +in a considerable degree throughout this +trying interview. Dick Beckworth’s appearance +had startled her; but already she had schooled her +mind to expecting an interview with him. +</p> +<p> +Really, the coming of Nell Blossom and what +had followed her entrance had disturbed Betty more +than Dick’s appearance. But now she had got a +clutch again upon her mental processes and at this +moment, when Dick was about to reveal to the +cabaret singer the fact that Betty was his wife, the +Eastern girl apprehended and seized upon the plea +she believed would, more than any other, cause Nell +to let the villain remain without question. +</p> +<p> +For, with the hotel surrounded and the officers +searching for Dick, it was probable that the moment +he stepped out of the room he would be caught. +So Betty cried: +</p> +<p> +“For Ford’s sake let him stay!” +</p> +<p> +It was, after all, a shot in the dark. Betty had +not been sure up to this moment that Nell really felt +toward the parson as his sister knew Hunt felt toward +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_298'></a>298</span> +Nell. But she was in a desperate plight. +Betty could not bear to have even her girl friend +know of her relation to Dick Beckworth, not as Dick +would tell it! And if the villain spread the tale as +he promised, Betty knew that her brother’s work +might be greatly injured even in such a community +as Canyon Pass. +</p> +<p> +For after all, although the mining town was not +like Ditson Corners, human nature is about the same +everywhere. Betty had done nothing disgraceful +in marrying Dick Beckworth and leaving him so +abruptly. But for hiding the unfortunate alliance +and posing here as an unmarried girl, the tongue of +gossip would undoubtedly drag both her own name +and Ford’s through the mire of half-truths and suppositions. +</p> +<p> +If Nell loved Ford and thought that Dick might +reveal something that would injure the parson, Betty +hoped the singer would relent. Afterward she could +in her own way explain to Nell. +</p> +<p> +The latter stared now at Betty; but Dick was +quite in the line of her gun and her hand did not +tremble. +</p> +<p> +“You—you mean he’s got something on the parson?” +she asked. +</p> +<p> +Dick grinned. Betty tried to speak. Before another +word could be said, however, there was a +sudden outbreak of sound from below and loud +voices on the stair. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_299'></a>299</span> +</p> +<p> +“Betty!” shouted Joe Hurley’s voice. +</p> +<p> +“Is Nell Blossom there?” called Hunt. +</p> +<p> +Both young men were tramping up to this very +room. They would be here in thirty seconds. +</p> +<p> +Betty came to her feet as though galvanized by +an electric shock. She fumbled in her bosom and +drew forth the key of the closet door. She extended +it to Dick. +</p> +<p> +“Let him—let him hide!” she gasped. +</p> +<p> +Nell lowered her gun. Dick grabbed the key, +the grin on his face demoniac, and leaped across the +floor on the balls of his feet. In a flash he had the +door open, was inside, the door closed and the spring +lock snapped. Nell thrust the gun back into its holster. +Came a thunderous knock upon the door. +</p> +<p> +“Girls!” shouted Hunt, “may we come in?” +</p> +<p> +Betty and Nell looked at each other. The latter +sat down on the bed. Betty dropped back into her +chair. +</p> +<p> +“Of course you may come in, Ford,” she said in +a voice that, if not unshaken, seemed calm to the ears +of the men. +</p> +<p> +Hunt and Hurley, both splashed with mud, appeared +at the open door. +</p> +<p> +“Pack a bag, Betty,” said her brother. “The +water is backing up into the town, and although we +don’t believe it will rise high, it may come in over +the lower floor. It won’t be pleasant here to-night. +Joe suggests that we take you both up to his office +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_300'></a>300</span> +at the Great Hope. That can be made comfortable +for you until we see just how bad a time Canyon +Pass is in for.” +</p> +<p> +“If you say so,” said Betty in a low voice. “Will +you go, Nell?” +</p> +<p> +“Sure,” declared the other girl. +</p> +<p> +She thought that probably anything was better +for Betty than to remain here. In ten minutes +they set forth, hurrying down and out of the hotel. +Sheriff Blaney, and a red-faced man whom Betty +remembered having seen before on the Hoskins trail +hunting a fugitive, was on the porch. +</p> +<p> +“Derned funny where that Dick Beckworth has +holed up,” Blaney was saying. “But he can’t get +out of town to-night, that’s sure.” +</p> +<p> +That was a night scarcely to be forgotten in the +annals of Canyon Pass. The people streamed up +the muddy roads on to the highlands all night long +while the waters rose higher and higher. They +could hear toward morning the crashing of undermined +buildings, but not until dawn did the fugitives +learn all the damage of the flood. +</p> +<p> +Then, just before sunrise, there sounded several +tremendous explosions from below, in the canyon. +Joe Hurley and a gang of engineers had been down +there all night, and the several charges of dynamite +they put in at the barrier across the river brought +the relief that had been hoped. In an hour a way +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_301'></a>301</span> +was burst through the wall of fallen débris and the +mad waters tore a passage to freedom. +</p> +<p> +The flood began to recede, and by the time the +expedition got back from the canyon in the batteau, +the mud hole of Main Street could be seen +again from the site of the Great Hope. Joe Hurley +looked grave, however, when he rejoined his friends +in the little shack of an office. +</p> +<p> +“It’s done a sight of damage,” the mining man +said. “A lot of folks will have to double up till +new shacks can be built. The church—Tolley’s old +place—is standing, Willie.” +</p> +<p> +“I see it is,” returned the parson. “But I miss +some buildings——” +</p> +<p> +“You miss one in particular,” said his friend +quickly. “I don’t know but you and Betty are chief +among the flood sufferers.” +</p> +<p> +“What do you mean, Joe?” Betty asked quickly. +</p> +<p> +“The hotel. It was undermined and is in ruins; +looks like it had been rammed. Oh!” as he saw +Betty pale, “nobody was hurt. Cholo Sam and +Maria are safe. Fact is, not a life lost as far as +we know. It might have been a whole lot worse. +We had great luck.” +</p> +<p> +“Great luck!” murmured Betty, looking at Nell, +whose face likewise showed a strange anxiety. +</p> +<p> +“Talking about luck,” added Hurley suddenly. +“What do you know about old Steve and Andy? +They’ve been out all night.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_302'></a>302</span> +</p> +<p> +“What do you mean?” asked Hunt. “They haven’t +gone back to the desert?” +</p> +<p> +“Not on your life. They’ve been prospecting +where they prospected twenty years ago. Or that’s +what I figger. Just at dawn, after we let off those +shots that started the dam-busting, I spied ’em prowling +around up there on the side of the canyon. Reckless +as kids, those old tykes are. Might another +slip come ’most any time.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh!” said Betty, “I hope you did not leave them +in danger, Joe.” +</p> +<p> +“If they were, I couldn’t help ’em,” Hurley replied. +“You can’t influence those old desert rats +any more than you could lead an iron horse to +drink. No, sir! Steve and Andy were up there +on a shelf that was uncovered by the last slip, +a-holding hands and ghost-dancing like a couple of +Piute Injuns. Acted plumb crazy. +</p> +<p> +“They must have swum the West Fork to get +there. And I bet they didn’t go together. But +when they got up there and saw the way open——” +</p> +<p> +“To what?” interrupted Nell. “You haven’t told +us what they found.” +</p> +<p> +“That’s so,” chuckled Joe. “They’ve found +something all right. I reckon Steve and Andy can’t +be fooled when it comes to ‘color.’ They certainly +have made a ten-strike. Steve shouted down to me +that the slip had uncovered the mother lode. Of +course, they are claiming everything in sight. Got +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_303'></a>303</span> +their claims staked out, and if it’s really a sure-enough +find I expect there will be a small stampede +to that side of the canyon. There’s gold all through +those cliffs. This is a gold country. Some day +they’ll find out how to work the Topaz Desert as a +paying proposition. The wash from these headlands +and the canyon sides has been carried out into the +desert by the Runaway for a couple of million years—more +or less.” +</p> +<p> +“Anyway,” said Nell, her eyes sparkling, “the +old-timers are going to be rich at last? How fine!” +</p> +<p> +“It may only be a pocket—or a broken lead. But +I wish ’em both millionaires. Me, I’ll stick to the +Great Hope a while longer.” He looked at Betty. +“I am a great feller for sticking to a thing.” +</p> +<p> +Betty blushed and looked away. Hunt said +thoughtfully: +</p> +<p> +“If the slide has only caused Siebert and McCann +to be friends again, it has brought about something +good—something very good indeed.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, you talk to Judson about that. His stock +is pretty near ruined. And see Tolley. He’s almost +weeping. And Colorado Brown. To say nothing +of Cholo Sam, who has lost his hotel.” +</p> +<p> +The girls again looked at each other. There was +the same thought in their minds. What had become +of Dick Beckworth if the hotel had collapsed? Of +course there had been plenty of time for him to +have escaped from the building before it went down. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_304'></a>304</span> +None of the structures had fallen much before daybreak. +Yet thought of him continued to trouble the +girls. +</p> +<p> +Joe Hurley got Betty off to one side. There was +no work being done at any of the mines, so the +owner of the Great Hope had nothing to do at this +hour. Having been at work all night it might be +supposed that he would need sleep; but when he +looked on Betty Hunt his gaze was anything but +somnolent. +</p> +<p> +“There’s a whole lot been happening in a few +short hours, Betty,” he said to the parson’s sister. +“It come on us so quick and it happened so fast that +it put out of my head for the time being something +I had to say to you.” +</p> +<p> +“Something—Nothing you shouldn’t say, Joe?” +she stammered, looking at him with pleading eyes. +</p> +<p> +“I get you, Betty,” said the mining man. “I get +you—sure. You are warning me off the grass. I +don’t blame you. You think I am kind of dense, +I expect——” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, never that, Joe,” she murmured. “You are +kind and thoughtful only.” +</p> +<p> +“I hope you will believe so,” said Joe bluntly, +“when I tell you I know what your trouble is—and +I know there ain’t no chance for me now. But I +am going to be your friend just as you said I could.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh! Joe, do you know?” +</p> +<p> +“I got wind of a story Dick Beckworth’s been +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_305'></a>305</span> +telling—about your being already married. It’s so, +isn’t it?” +</p> +<p> +Betty, her face working pitifully, nodded. +</p> +<p> +“All right. We won’t say no more about it. He’s +a low dog for telling about it. I don’t want to know +no more—not even who the feller is who married +you. But you can bank on me, Betty, every time! +I’m your friend.” +</p> +<p> +“I know you are, Joe,” she whispered, and the +look she gave him paid Joe Hurley for a good deal. +</p> +<p> +But he was by no means satisfied to consider that +Betty Hunt’s marriage closed the door of paradise +in his face. He was just as determined to get her +as ever he had been. He had learned the great thing +that he had desired to know. Betty loved him. He +had seen it in her look! He could wait, and be patient, +and let things take their course. She could +be wedded to another man as hard and fast as all +the laws could make it. But Joe Hurley felt a glory +in his soul that expanded from the heaven-born belief +that time would change all that! +</p> +<p> +They started down into the town, the girls shod +with rubber boots that Joe supplied. The people +of Canyon Pass were running about like muddy ants +seeking their flooded hills. Mother Tubbs and Sam +were high and dry in the loft of the stamp mill. The +old woman had made Sam lug up there her one good +feather-bed—and it was dry. But as she said, she +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_306'></a>306</span> +expected to find all her other possessions “as wet +as a frog’s hind leg.” +</p> +<p> +Bill Judson lounged in the doorway of the Three +Star and hailed them with some cheerfulness. +</p> +<p> +“There’s one sure thing, Parson Hunt,” he said. +“What I got in cans ain’t water-soaked—much. And +the cat and six kittens ain’t drowned. I expect I +can keep shop with what I got left for a while. But +Smithy’s lost all his clo’es that’s fit to wear, dad +burn it! I can’t have him waitin’ on lady customers +in a gunny-sack and a pair of ridin’ boots.” +</p> +<p> +A little group surrounded Sheriff Blaney on the +street as the quartette strolled along. Joe was interested. +</p> +<p> +“Find him, Blaney?” he asked the officer. +</p> +<p> +“Not any. And it beats my time. I don’t see +where that Dick Beckworth could have holed up. He +sure didn’t get out of town, for the Forks are both +plumb impassable for man or beast.” +</p> +<p> +The two girls exchanged glances again. What +had happened to Dick Beckworth? Surely he must +have got out of the closet—out of the hotel—— +</p> +<p> +Suddenly Betty seized Nell’s arm with an hysterical +grip. +</p> +<p> +“Nell! Nell!” she whispered. +</p> +<p> +“Don’t give way. Of course he’s all right—though +he ought not to be!” +</p> +<p> +“That closet door! It shut with a spring lock. +It could not be opened from inside!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_307'></a>307</span> +</p> +<p> +“Oh, he could smash down the door.” +</p> +<p> +The two young men did not notice the girls’ perturbation. +They were striding ahead. A crowd +was running toward the fallen hotel. Something +of moment was happening there. But before they +reached the place Cholo Sam saw them, and started +toward the parson and Joe. +</p> +<p> +“Señor Hunt! Señor Joe! Keep the señoritas +back. It is not for them to see.” +</p> +<p> +“What’s the matter, Sam?” asked Hurley. +</p> +<p> +“That Dick the Deevil! He ees found—my goodness, +yes! They haf just pulled him out of the +ruins of my Wild Rose—drowned like one rat!” +</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p> +Fortunately for Canyon Pass and its flood-harassed +inhabitants, frost and snow held off that winter +until remarkably late. The mild season gave +ample opportunity for new homes to be built and +for the necessary repairs to be made upon the structures +that had withstood the rising waters. +</p> +<p> +The supply wagons brought in quantities of necessary +goods from Crescent City and the railroads. +The mines and washings shut down while all turned +to the work of rebuilding. Tolley’s Grub Stake +and Colorado Brown’s place, both swept by the +water, were the last buildings to be remodeled. The +gamblers and dance-hall girls and other employees +of those places left town, for it promised to be a +lean winter for their ilk at Canyon Pass. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_308'></a>308</span> +</p> +<p> +In fact, Boss Tolley sold out and got out himself +among the very first to desert the town. His departure +and the sale of all his property opened the +way for Parson Hunt’s supporters to buy from the +purchaser of Tolley’s property the building which +had been used for church services and the lot on +which it stood. +</p> +<p> +They could not begin the building of a proper +church until spring, of course; but the money was +pledged for an edifice that would cost all Joe Hurley +had planned. +</p> +<p> +Hurley himself was able to subscribe a much +larger sum than at first, for the Great Hope had +proved to be as valuable a mine as he had told Betty +and the parson he believed it would. But it was +from another source that the church building fund +gained its largest contribution. +</p> +<p> +Old Steve Siebert and Andy McCann had “struck +it rich.” The romance of the uncovering of a rich +vein of gold in the west wall of the canyon is told +to-day to every tourist who comes to Canyon Pass. +</p> +<p> +How, at a time in the camp’s early history, two +partners who had prospected the Topaz Range and +the desert adjoining fruitlessly for years had found +traces of gold high up on the canyon wall behind a +sheltering ledge and had “locked horns” in their +first quarrel over how the lode was to be got at. +</p> +<p> +At the height of their argument a landslip had +buried the hollow where the rich find was located +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_309'></a>309</span> +and, rather than that either should profit by the +joint find, the two old fellows had never tried to +open the claim until nature, by another freak, uncovered +it for them. +</p> +<p> +“I says to Andy, and Andy says to me,” Steve +Siebert was wont to recall, “when we seen how rich +that lode was, a part of our profits oughter go to the +parson and his church.” +</p> +<p> +“You’re mighty right we did,” agreed Andy. +Agreeing was now Andy’s strongest trait. “We-all +got to pull together in this world. And if we-all +pull together yere in Canyon Pass we can have as +good a church as any camp needs. We sure got the +best parson.” +</p> +<p> +“You’re right, Andy,” Steve said. “I certainly +do despise folks that are always fighting each other +and pullin’ contrary. No sense in it—no sense +a-tall.” +</p> +<p> +In fact the two old fellows became joint treasurers +of the church building fund. They took it +upon themselves, too, to pass the contribution plates +at service. The only friction Andy McCann and +Steve Siebert were ever known to display thereafter +was a mild rivalry as to the amount of money collected +from the congregation seated on their particular +sides of the house. It was suspected that each +swelled his collection considerably on Sunday mornings +so that his half of the house would make the +best showing when the offering was counted! +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_310'></a>310</span> +</p> +<p> +“Dad burn it!” muttered Bill Judson, “let ’em +alone. That’s a mild matter for disagreement. They +ain’t likely to pull no guns on each other over that.” +</p> +<p> +Indeed Canyon Pass was on its good behavior that +winter. The exigencies of the flood which had +driven out a good deal of the worst element of the +town gave the better people a chance to take hold of +its government with a firmer hand—and a hand that +Hunt and his associates were determined should not +again lose its grip. Even Slickpenny Norris in time +came to see that religious progress was not actually +synonymous with bankruptcy. +</p> +<p> +To the parson’s standard flocked many of those +who had before been but lukewarm. Not least of +his new helpers was the erstwhile cabaret singer. +Nell Blossom proved her value in the work to be +quite all that Hunt had hoped. +</p> +<p> +This busy time, when Joe Hurley and Betty really +were so wrapped up in each other that they could +scarcely be expected to be of value to anybody but +themselves, the parson found in Nell Blossom a +willing and efficient aid. They were both earnest +in the cause, and so earnest that it seemed they had +little thought for extraneous matters. Yet on one +occasion when they were looking over the blueprints +of the proposed church edifice, Nell slipped an extra +sheet of plans into sight from beneath those of the +church. +</p> +<p> +“Why, what is this, Ford?” she asked. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_311'></a>311</span> +</p> +<p> +“Oh, yes! I wanted to show you that, Nell. And +get your approval.” +</p> +<p> +“My approval?” +</p> +<p> +“Er—yes. You see, I’ve bought the lot right +next to the church site. Now, this cottage—er—— +Here! Let me show you. We can have the mill +work for it shipped in with the church stuff. The +same gang that builds the church can run the house +up. There’s the front elevation. Say, Nell, how +do you like it?” +</p> +<p> +“Why, it’s lovely!” she cried. +</p> +<p> +“Do you think it’s nice enough for a parson’s +wife to live in?” +</p> +<p> +“Ford! Mr. Hunt! I——” +</p> +<p> +“Better let the ‘Mr. Hunt’ stuff slide, Nell Blossom,” +he said, getting hold of her hand. “Even a +minister’s wife is supposed to call her husband by +his first name—at least, in private.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Ford!” +</p> +<p> +“That’s better.” +</p> +<p> +“But—but I am not fit to be a parson’s wife, +Ford,” she cried, trembling. +</p> +<p> +“Do you know, sometimes I’ve half believed I +wasn’t fit to be a parson? But it’s my job and I’m +going to do the best I can with it. And—I need your +help, Nell Blossom.” +</p> +<p> +“I came out here to try to win the heart of Canyon +Pass. I found it—almost as soon as I arrived. But +I thought for a long time that it never would be +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_312'></a>312</span> +mine. I am bold enough now, Nell, to believe that +I may win it.” +</p> +<p> +He smiled at her with such affection in his gaze, +such a warmth of comprehension as well as desire, +that Nell Blossom, tearful, trembling, half fearful, +swayed toward him and felt again his strong arms +about her. +</p> +<p> +“If—if I can only be worthy of you, Ford. If +I don’t disgrace you,” she sobbed. “Just think! +A singer all my life in those ugly cabarets——” +</p> +<p> +“Ah, yes,” said the Reverend Willett Ford Hunt +quietly. “And only for a difference in environment +I might have been a part of the most reckless audience +you ever had to sing to. We will let the past +bury the past, Nell. We have only to deal with the +future.” +</p> +<p> +And he held her to him close. +</p> +<div class='center'> +<p>THE END</p> +</div> +<p> + <br /> + <br /> + <br /> +</p> +<p> +<span style='font-size:1.2em;font-weight:bold;'>Popular Copyright Novels</span> +</p> +<p> +AT MODERATE PRICES +</p> +<p> +Ask Your Dealer for a Complete List of<br /> +A. L. Burt Company’s Popular Copyright Fiction<br /> +</p> +<p> + <b>Adventures of Jimmie Dale, The.</b> By Frank L. Packard.<br /> + <b>Adventures of Sherlock Holmes.</b> By A. Conan Doyle.<br /> + <b>Affinities, and Other Stories.</b> By Mary Roberts Rinehart.<br /> + <b>After House, The.</b> By Mary Roberts Rinehart.<br /> + <b>Against the Winds.</b> By Kate Jordan.<br /> + <b>Ailsa Paige.</b> By Robert W. Chambers.<br /> + <b>Also Ran.</b> By Mrs. Baillie Reynolds.<br /> + <b>Amateur Gentleman, The.</b> By Jeffery Farnol.<br /> + <b>Anderson Crow, Detective.</b> By George Barr McCutcheon.<br /> + <b>Anna, the Adventuress.</b> By E. 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Holmes + +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 Heart of Canyon Pass + +Author: Thomas K. Holmes + +Release Date: August 3, 2011 [EBook #36953] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HEART OF CANYON PASS *** + + + + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + +[Illustration: Hunt's arms were around the girl and he held her fast.] + + + + + THE HEART OF + CANYON PASS + + By THOMAS K. HOLMES + + Author of + _"The Man From Tall Timber" etc._ + + A. L. BURT COMPANY + Publishers New York + + Published by arrangement with George Sully & Company + Printed in U. S. A. + + + + + Copyrighted, 1921 (as a serial). + + Copyright, 1921, by + GEORGE SULLY & COMPANY + + _All rights reserved_ + _Printed in U. S. A._ + + + + + CONTENTS + + CHAPTER PAGE + I. Discontent at Canyon Pass 1 + II. Discontent at Ditson Corners 18 + III. A Shadow Thrown Before 30 + IV. Philosophy Bound in Homespun 38 + V. How the Passonians Took It 46 + VI. The Approach 58 + VII. The First Trick 69 + VIII. A Flower in the Mire 78 + IX. A Beginning 91 + X. Mutterings of a Storm 99 + XI. The Storm About To Burst 111 + XII. Tolley's Tale 122 + XIII. Plans Are Made 130 + XIV. The Great Day Arrives 141 + XV. Pep and a Little Pepper 152 + XVI. Love and Longing 161 + XVII. A Battle in a Girl's Heart 169 + XVIII. The Shadow on Betty's Path 177 + XIX. A Good Deal of a Man 189 + XX. Murder Will Out 197 + XXI. The Drama of a Lie 211 + XXII. A Face in the Storm 219 + XXIII. A Great Light Dawns 229 + XXIV. The Barrier Down--for a Moment 237 + XXV. Understanding 246 + XXVI. Threatening Weather 256 + XXVII. Several Conclusions 265 + XXVIII. Catastrophe 273 + XXIX. His Last Card 286 + XXX. Clearing Skies 297 + + + + +THE HEART OF CANYON PASS + + + + +CHAPTER I--DISCONTENT AT CANYON PASS + + +The bluebird was no harbinger of spring at Canyon Pass. Most of the +inhabitants had never seen that feathered songster and many had never +heard of it. Incidentally these same Passonians would not have known a +harbinger in any case, presuming possibly that it was one of those +new-fangled nipples for the hydraulic pipes at the Eureka Washings, or +something fancy that Bill Judson was selling in cans at the Three Star +Grocery. + +But spring had unmistakably arrived at Canyon Pass when those two +irrepressible pocket-hunters, Steve Siebert and Andy McCann, got +together their frayed and rusty outfits, exchanged the hard-earned money +each had toiled for during the winter over the counter of the Three Star +for supplies and loaded each his burro till the sad-eyed little brutes +almost buckled under the weight of flour, beans, salt pork, coffee, and +prospectors' tools. + +Each ancient then mounted his moth-eaten cayuse, jerked the towline of +his objecting burro, and proceeded out of town, Steve making the ford +through the East Fork, while Andy plodded through the shallows of the +West Fork, both bound down the canyon for the desert country which they +hated with an unbelievably bitter hatred, yet which dragged the old men +back to its grim barrens as soon as the spring freshets cleared the +canyon and gulches of winter's accumulation of snow. + +Canyon Pass was no beauty spot over which an artist might rave; nor was +the landscape surrounding it even passably attractive to the eye. Man, +in delving for nature's treasures in the rocky headlands and along the +benches of the East and West Forks, had marred past redemption what +little beauty of form and color the rugged wedge of land at the head of +the canyon once possessed. + +But on this morning there was a soft blur of blue haze padding the sharp +outlines of the canyon walls and brooding over the higher hills. The +streams flowing on either side of the town crooned instead of foaming +boisterously in their beds, and where they joined to make Runaway River, +which followed the bed of the canyon southerly, the thunder of their +waters seemed hushed. + +It was not yet sunrise, but a pearl-gray radiance flooded the town and +canyon as far south as one could see. Lights wavered drunkenly behind +the window-panes of the all-night saloons and dance halls. This enticing +spring morning followed the dregs of another riotous night in Canyon +Pass. + +The day before had been pay day at the Eureka Washings and the Oreode +Company's diggings and at most of the major mining prospects in the +vicinity. At noon the miners and other workmen had knocked off work, +drawn their pay, and, cleaned up and dressed in holiday attire, had +sought the amusement places of the town. From dark till dawn they had as +usual torn the town wide open like a paper sack, to quote Bill Judson, +as he stood in the doorway of his store and watched the two old desert +rats leaving the dulling merriment and drunkenness behind them as they +weaved their several ways out of sight on either bank of Runaway River. + +"They've been doing this for twenty years," added Judson, pointing with +his pipe stem to the disappearing prospectors. "An' to my knowledge and +belief ain't neither of 'em struck a smell of paying color in all that +time." + +"That so?" returned Smithy, his gangling clerk, coming outside to +stretch and yawn. Smithy had the look of a young man who was still in +growth and he needed, as Judson said, "all outdoors to stretch in." + +"Say! What's the matter with them two old sour doughs? All the time they +was buyin' that stuff they never spoke a word to each other, and if one +of 'em caught a look from t'other he snarled like a wild tagger! They'd +have showed their teeth--both of 'em--if they'd had any left but stubs." + +"Ain't spoke, to my knowledge," said the storekeeper, "Steve and Andy +ain't, in all of these twenty years. 'Fore that they was as thick as +hasty puddin' an' throwed in together ev'ry spring--even steven--when they +went prospecting; comin' back yere to Canyon Pass in the fall as happy +as a bride and groom returning from the honeymoon." + +"What happened? What made 'em so sore on each other?" asked Smithy. + +"Don't know. Never did know. Never could find out. 'Twas right after the +big slide. You've heard tell o' that, even if you ain't been here six +months?" + +"A thousand times," returned Smithy in a bored tone. + +"Well, Steve and Andy was perky as blackbirds in a strawyard that +spring. 'Twas twenty years back. They hid out their camp somewhere near +town that time. I always figgered they had a good prospect below there, +in the canyon. 'Twas even reported that they took a sample of the right +stuff to the assayer's office. But they was as close mouthed as twin +clams in the last stages of hydrophoby. + +"Then come the slide. Most of us that was yere then didn't think of much +for a week or two but whether Canyon Pass was goin' to be left on the +map or not. Our stake was yere, and the slide acted like a stopper in +Runaway River--like to plugged the old canyon for fair. + +"Howsumever, when the channel was more or less clear again and we could +come down off the roofs of our shacks, Steve and Andy showed up, but +from different directions, as sore at each other as two carbuncles, and +they ain't never been knowed to speak to one another since. Won't even +drink at the same bar. The only time they come into the Three Star +together is the morning they pull stakes for the desert." + +Smithy yawned again. Steve Siebert and Andy McCann had now disappeared +beyond outcropping warts of rock at the foot of the canyon walls. + +Down the street from the direction of the mining shafts sunk in the +heights behind the town strode a well-proportioned young man whose +bootsoles rang on the patches of earth out of which the frost had not +yet thawed. He was cleanly shaved and clean-looking, and stood more than +six feet tall, with an air of frank assertiveness even in his carriage. +He owned a high color under the wind-tan of his countenance, sandy hair, +and brown eyes with golden flecks in them when he was amused or when he +was angry. + +And Joe Hurley was usually swayed by one emotion or the other. Now he +appeared to be amused as he came abreast of the Three Star Grocery. + +"What's got you and Smithy up so early, Bill?" he asked. + +"Dad burn it, Joe! Don't you know spring has came?" + +"Pshaw! I thought I heard a tree-frog last night. So Steve Siebert and +Andy McCann have lit out same as usual? We shall miss Steve at the Great +Hope." + +"Surest thing you know, Joe. They're on their way. And just as sociable +as usual." Joe Hurley's eyes flashed with the gleam of fun that made him +beloved of all who did not hate him. But before he could utter a comment +the storekeeper added: "Wasn't you in to the Grub Stake to-night?" + +Hurley wheeled to frown suddenly at the flickering lamps of Boss +Tolley's gambling hall and cabaret almost directly across the street. +The quick change of emotion reflected in his face betrayed the character +of the man. Hurley was given to sudden impulses, usually spurred by the +primal passions. Yet he was a strong man, too, and kept the lid on those +passions if he desired. + +"Nell's got some new songs," went on Judson slyly. "Right cute they are. +She certainly is some songbird, Joe. Dad burn it! She's too good for +those roughnecks." + +Hurley nodded slowly but did not show Judson his face at once, still +watching the pale lights of the honkytonk fighting the advancing glow of +the dawn. The storekeeper had not lived sixty-five years--thirty years of +them right here in Canyon Pass--without gaining a pretty keen insight +into human nature. He did not have to see that scowl on Joe Hurley's +face. He knew what Joe was ruminating. + +"And 'tain't only roughnecks that our Nell's too good for," pursued +Judson finally. "The pizenest snakes, they tell me, is the prettiest. +An' kids are tickled to look at pretties. Nell's only a kid after all." + +"You're right, Bill!" ejaculated the mine owner with a snap of his jaws +and his eyes sparking from no good humor. + +He glanced balefully at the Grub Stake, his face set grimly, almost +threatening. + +There were fitful strains of music from within and still some clatter of +feet and voices. Boss Tolley made it his boast that his show continued +until the last reveler left. + +The Grub Stake was a sprawling, T-shaped structure with the long bar and +gaming tables in the shank of the T, the dance hall and stage at the +rear. Beside the main entrance was the sign: "Check Your Guns and Spurs +Here," and at the short counter presided a young woman in a sleeveless +silk jersey and kneelength satin skirt, who dealt out brass checks and +airy persiflage indiscriminately. + +The rosewood bar, behind which Boss Tolley and his three barmen sweated +at the height of the revelry, had cost a fortune to freight over the +trail to Canyon Pass. The gaudy oil painting which hung back of the bar, +to hear Boss Tolley tell it, had cost him a second fortune. + +Dick Beckworth, who was Tolley's chief dealer at the tables of chance, +was a privileged character. He was supposed to be a "killer" with the +ladies. He dressed his long curls and heavy black mustache as carefully +as he did his sleek and slender person. Cream-colored flannel shirt, a +flowing tie, velvet jacket and broadcloth trousers tucked into +patent-leather boots, and a Mexican sombrero heavy with silver cord to +top this ensemble, he made a picture to rival the squalid painting over +the bar. + +The night had been strenuous at the tables, but the gambling fever had +now abated. Dick lolled gracefully in the armchair at his empty table +with half-closed eyes, smoking a cigarette. Around a table near the +archway between the barroom and the hall was a noisy group of miners, +but they were no longer playing. Their glasses had just been refilled at +the bar. + +The rasping chords of a hard-working male quartette beyond the archway +repeated a syncopated rhythm for the entertainment of the patrons of the +tables. + +From beneath the arch into the barroom stepped suddenly an astonishingly +brilliant figure--a figure engraved as sharply as a cameo against the +blue mist of tobacco smoke that now drifted in a thin haze throughout +the barnlike place. The group of miners about the first table roared a +greeting. + +"Nell! Nell Blossom! The blossom of Canyon Pass!" + +"Give us a song of your own, Nellie!" added one burly miner, swaying +from his seat toward her, a maudlin smile on his face. + +The girl's smiling expression changed swiftly to one of flaring fury. +She swept past the miners and headed straight for Dick Beckworth, who +had watched the incident with a little smile flickering about his lips. +The girl's face was still ablaze. She needed no rouge or lipstick in any +case to lend it color. + +"Dick," she said tensely, "I hate this place!" + +"I've already told you I hate to see you in it," he rejoined with +apparent frankness. "Singing and dancing for these roughnecks is far +beneath you." + +The flame of her anger gradually waned as she gazed down into his face. +His usual calmness was somewhat ruffled by her near presence. Nell +Blossom held a certain influence over him that "Dick the Devil"--his +boasted cognomen among his admirers--was loath to acknowledge. + +But she was sweet enough and pretty enough as she stood there to stir +the most placid heart. Even the tawdry costume she wore could not +detract from her charm, the red silk blouse with the V-shaped cut at the +neck, belted velvet skirt to the tops of tiny riding-boots on tiny feet, +her clustering curls of a golden-brown color crowned by a "cowgirl" +hat--all worn as a costume in which to sing "Pony Boy," and "Cheyenne," +which popular hits had finally reached Canyon Pass. + +"I hate this place, Dick," she said again, now wearily dropping into a +chair at his elbow. + +Nell Blossom possessed one of those rare complexions that remind one of +nothing so much as a ripe Alberta peach. The crimson of her cheeks was +vivid, but tinted away into the creaminess of her satin skin. Her lips +were not too red. Her nose was a nose to be proud of without being +large. Her ears were visible and like the blossoms of the dogwood tree +in texture and coloring. + +"You know how I feel, Nell," said Dick, with a calm that belied his +heartbeats. "I'm sick of all this, too." He gestured gracefully with the +hand that held his cigarette. A jewel sparkled on that hand. "Canyon +Pass is a dirty hole. If you say the word we'll get out of it. I've made +a good stake. My rake-off has given me a full poke at last. We'll go +away from here, and I'll get into some paying business. I'll never turn +a card again--for Boss Tolley or any other man. I mean it!" + +The girl was looking straight into his eyes. He met that searching gaze +as inscrutably as he had learned to endure the scrutiny of his opponent +at the poker table. + +"Do you mean it, Dick?" + +"Just that." He nodded. "As I told you yesterday, say the word and we'll +light out--now--this morning. You don't know much about the world outside +of Canyon Pass, Nell, but I'll show it to you. And I love you--love you +like the devil!" + +There was a force in his final phrase, although he did not stir in his +chair, that made her tremble. A vivid flush slowly dyed her cheeks and +throat. It passed, to leave her blue eyes humid and her lips smiling. + +"If you don't believe me--" + +"I do," she interrupted. "I believed you yesterday. My saddlebags are +all packed, Dick, and I'm ready just whenever you are." + +A sudden electric tremor passed through the man's nerves. He veiled his +eyes for a moment that she might not see what flared into them. He rose +with her. + +"Get into your riding clothes and we'll start. I'll meet you with my +horse in half an hour," he said almost sternly. + +But his eyes now answered her look of gratefulness and adoration with +what she thought was a reflection of her own chaste desire. + +So it came about that two other riders left Canyon Pass on this spring +morning while the sun still lingered abed, and, crossing the West Fork +an hour behind Andy McCann, unlike him chose the wagon-track to the +summit of the canyon wall on that side of Runaway River. + +"Which way do we go, Dick? To Crescent City?" + +"South," he returned, without looking at her. + +"We-ell. Lamberton is further but there's a parson there, too. That's +another reason why I've come to hate Canyon Pass. It isn't decent like +other towns--or even up-to-date. It never had a church or a parson. It's +got everything else--saloons, gambling halls, honkytonks, stores, a bank, +a hotel, a stamp mill, an express office, even a school, such as it is. +But it's heathen--plumb heathen, Dick." + +He smiled at her then, rather a superior smile. "It's not the only +mining town that answers your description." + +"I know it," Nell rejoined. "But I want to see the other kind of towns. +Mother Tubbs says Canyon Pass ain't got no heart, and she's right. She +says she can't even tell when Sunday comes, only that Sam always comes +home drunk that day. This is Sunday, Dick. It's a good day on which to +begin a new life." + +"Oh, life's all right," the gambler said easily. "Take it as you find +it, Nell." + +They came up into the sunlight on the rim of the canyon wall. Once on +the level trail their horses broke into a canter. They could look down +at certain points into the sink of the canyon where Runaway River foamed +in its narrow channel. They spied Steve Siebert with his outfit +traveling on the river trail. McCann, of course, they could not see, for +the canyon wall on this side was almost sheer. + +Ahead, as they rode on, was the Overhang--that monstrous projection +capping the scarp of the cliff, left ages ago when the canyon was +roughed out by the glacial floods to threaten the pass below with utter +extinction if its bulk ever fell. Parts of it had fallen some twenty +years previous. This was the "big slide" which had for a time choked the +river channel with soil and rubble and threatened to flood out Canyon +Pass. + +The scar on the steep slope of the west wall down which that slide had +fallen was now masked by a hardy growth of scrubby trees and brush. But +the two old prospectors never passed the place, either going out of or +returning to Canyon Pass, without keenly studying the scar. + +Halfway up the height had been a shelf with a hollow behind it--an ideal +spot for a secret camp, for it could be observed neither from the trail +on the opposite side of the river nor from the rim of the west wall of +the canyon. Buried as this shelf had been by the slide, Steve Siebert +and Andy McCann now marked the spot--and what it hid--and then glanced +sardonically at each other across the foaming river. They snarled at +each other like a pair of toothless old wolves. The fruit of their joint +toil that lay behind that slide, one could not reach, and the other +could not compass. The secret had festered in their hearts and poisoned +the very souls of the two ancients for these twenty years. + +Above, the two in the plane of sunshine and freer air rode along the +brink of the Overhang. + +"Say!" Dick said jerkily. "Let's not go to Lamberton--not direct." + +"What?" + +There was a sharp note in her voice. She turned in her saddle to face +him. Her gaze narrowed. Was there after all a doubt in the very depths +of Nell's soul about the man? + +"I know a fine place--better hotel than at Lamberton--really a nice place +to stop. We can reach it before night. Hoskins. You know?" + +He still spoke nervously. Nell's gaze no more left his face. She said +evenly, as though her mind was quite placid again: + +"There's no parson at Hoskins, either." + +He darted her another side-glance. How was she taking it? Was she, after +all, going to be "sensible?" Nell was seventeen, but a woman grown. + +"Shucks, honey," Dick said, putting out a hand to touch her for the +first time. "We'll ride on and find a parson later. We're in no rush. +We're out for a grand, good time--" + +She pulled her horse across the path with a fierce jerk of the +bridle-rein, and so escaped the defilement of his touch. Her right hand +clutched the handle of her quirt, the knuckles bone-white. + +"Do you mean--you won't marry me?" + +Dick smiled his most disarming smile, his brown eyes even twinkled. That +frank and humorous look was what had first won his advantage with Nell +Blossom. + +"Shucks, honey," he drawled again. "Why so serious? Don't worry about +that. I'm free to confess I'm not a marrying man. Seen too much trouble +for both parties when they are tied to one another with any silly string +of the law. It's love that will hold us together." + +"That's heathen, Dick!" she exclaimed hotly. "Just as heathen as Canyon +Pass." + +"Nonsense!" He laughed. "You're just as safe with me, whether we're +married or not." + +Which might have been quite true, but Nell stared at him, her expression +as inscrutable as his own when he worked behind the green table. Dick +the Devil was a shrewd gambler, but Nell Blossom had played poker +herself ever since she could read the pips on the cards. And she had +been fighting her own battles in harsh environment and against men +almost from the same tender age. Her cold rage now sprang from the fact +that he should so mistake her character. + +"Come on, honey!" he said coaxingly. + +The quirt came up slowly; then it sang through the air. + +"You dog, you! Dick the Devil is your true name! And I thought--" + +The man, shouting an oath, dragged his mount backward. The lash +descended, missed his handsome face, but seared the horse across its +neck. + +Squealing, the animal leaped to one side--to the verge of the out-thrust +lip of the Overhang. The gambler wheeled him again, seeking to save +himself. + +"Do you want to murder me--you wildcat!" he cried angrily. + +There was a sudden crack, like the slapping of one board upon another. +Between the plunging horse and the girl a gap yawned in the earth. +Frost, the early rains, or perhaps time itself, had weakened this bit of +the Overhang. A patch no larger than a good-sized dining table broke +away and slid outward. + +The scrambling, wild-eyed horse and the shrieking, white-faced man +disappeared with it. The girl held in her own mount with a firm hand. +The flare of insane anger faded from her blue eyes. But her countenance +settled into a harsh and unlovely expression. + +Yet she slipped down from her saddle, quieted her horse with a word, and +stepped recklessly to the crumbling edge, trying to see down the face of +the cliff. + +She could mark no trace of horse or rider. She could no longer hear the +rumble of the falling debris. An icy horror gripped her. He was gone! + +Finally she drew back from the brink. She looked about at the landscape, +but there was not a human being to be seen. She slowly mounted her horse +again. + +Something besides a terrible disaster had happened here at the brink of +the Overhang. Something had happened to Nell Blossom so great, so +soul-racking, that she would never be altogether the same girl again. It +is a dreadful thing for one so young to find its love-idol shattered. + +After a little Nell started her mount, but she did not ride back toward +Canyon Pass. + + + + +CHAPTER II--DISCONTENT AT DITSON CORNERS + + +The Reverend Willett Ford Hunt read twice these closing words of the +long letter. + + ... and so, my dear Willie, to use your own way of expressing it, I + am steering straight for the devil--and enjoying the trip immensely. + + Wishing you were with me, Willie, I am, even after your rather + bitter castigation, + + Sincerely your friend, + Joe Hurley. + +He laid the missive on his desk with a full-bosomed sigh. Nor was that +sigh wholly because of the reprobate Joe. Joe's flowers of speech did +not much ruffle the parson's spirit. + +Joe Hurley might be gay, irresponsible, reckless, even downright wicked; +but he never could fail to be kind. Two years of close contact with the +blithe Westerner--those final two years at college before Hunt went to +the divinity school--had assured the latter that Joe Hurley owned a heart +of gold. The gold might be tarnished, but it was true metal +nevertheless. + +Hunt's mental picture of his college friend, and never had scholastic +friendship been more astounding, could not include any great blemish of +later-developed character. It was five years since they had seen each +other. Those five years could not have made of Joe Hurley the +"roughneck" that he intimated he had become. That was Joe's penchant for +painting with a wide brush. + +The reputation the Westerner had left behind him at college when he was +requested by a horrified governing board to depart for the sake of the +general welfare of the undergraduate body, revealed Joe's character +unequivocally. + +When Joe had been "bounced" by the faculty he had celebrated the +occasion by giving a farewell banquet at one of the shadiest hotels in +the college town, to the wildest crowd of students he could get +together. On his own part Joe had dressed in full cowboy regalia, and as +the apex of the evening's entertainment he had "shot up" the banquet +room, paying the bill for damages the next morning with a cheerful +smile. + +The Reverend Willett Ford Hunt remembered the occasion now with a little +shiver of apprehension. Suppose the people of Ditson Corners should ever +learn that he, their pastor, had been one of that company who had helped +Joe Hurley celebrate his dismissal from scholastic halls! + +Joe's father, a cattleman, had left him a considerable fortune. Joe had +invested much of it in a certain mining claim called the Great Hope, for +the young fellow had been keen enough to see that the day of the small +cattleman was gone. The mine was paying a comfortable income with the +promise of doing more than that in the future, so Joe wrote. But he +wrote more--much more that was exceedingly interesting to Hunt in his +present discontented state of mind. + +He picked up the letter again to re-read a part of the third page, this +broken sentence first meeting his envious eye: + + ... and if ever there was a peach, she surely is one, Willie. + Golden-brown hair, big blue eyes, and a voice--Say! No songbird ever + had anything on Nell. If you once saw her and heard her sing, you'd + go crazy about her, old sobersides. All Canyon Pass--I mean the + men-folks--are at her feet again, now she has returned to town and is + singing in Colorado Brown's cabaret. Sounds sort of devilish and + horrid, doesn't it, Willie? Believe me, Nell Blossom is some girl. + But wild--say! You can't get near her. She's got a laugh that plays + the deuce with a man's heart strings--accelerates the pit-a-pat of + the cardiac nerve to top-notch and then some! She's got us all on + her string, from gray-bearded sour doughs to the half-grown grocery + clerk at the Three Star, who would commit suicide to-morrow at her + behest--believe me! + + But no man, Willie, has seemed yet to put the come hither on Nell + Blossom. She just won't be led, coaxed, or driven. She's as hard as + molded glass. A man-hater, if ever you heard of one. With all your + famed powers of persuasion, reverend, I'd like to make a wager that + you couldn't mold our Nell into a pattern of the New England + virtues, such as your own prim little sister has become by this + time, I've no doubt. No insult to Miss Betty intended, Willie. But + our Nell--well, you'd have your hands full in trying to make her do a + thing that she did not want to do. + +The Reverend Willett Ford Hunt was stung here, not by the good-natured +raillery aimed at his own traits of character by his old college mate. +But why had Joe gone out of his way to drag Betty's name into it? It +seemed to be a mild slur upon his sister's character, and Hunt had an +uneasy feeling that he ought to resent it. + +Betty had met Joe Hurley but once--to Hunt's knowledge. It was an +occasion when she had stopped at the college town on her way home from +boarding school. Hunt had met her at the station, and Joe had shown up, +too. The three of them had sought a restaurant where they ate, and Betty +had chattered like--well, just as a girl of her age and fresh from the +excitement of boarding school would chatter. When her first fear of the +big Westerner had worn off she had usurped the conversation almost +completely. Hunt had often thought since that Joe Hurley was quite +attracted by his lively sister. + +But how did Joe know that Betty had changed so? + +That his sister was not the same cheerful, brisk, chatterbox of a girl +she had been when Joe met her, Hunt quite well knew. And the change +puzzled him. + +He visualized their Aunt Prudence Mason, who had lived all her long life +in the rut of New England spinsterhood, molding more or less the +characters of the orphaned brother and sister left at an early age to +her sole care. Was Betty, here in the straitened environment of Ditson +Corners, doomed to jog along the well-beaten track Aunt Prudence had +followed? The brother shuddered as he thought of it. + +He glanced at Joe's letter once more. A golden-haired, blue-eyed girl +who really sang--not shrieked as did Miss Pelter whose top notes in the +church choir rasped Hunt's nerves like a cross-cut saw dragged through a +pine knot. + +There was always a quarrel of some kind in that choir--the bickerings and +heart-burnings of his volunteer church choir were perennial. + +Then, there was the feud over the Ditson pew--which branch of the +influential Ditson family should hold the chief seats in the church. +Hunt could not satisfy everybody. There was still a clique, even after +his two years' pastorate, who let it be frankly known that they had +desired to call Bardell, instead of him, to the pulpit of the First +Church. + +These continued faultfindings and disputes were getting on Hunt's +nerves. And they must be affecting Betty--influencing her more than he +had heretofore considered. + +This letter from Joe Hurley had come at a moment when Hunt was +desperately and completely out of tune with his environment. He had +brought to his first pastorate a modicum of enthusiasm which, during the +first year, had expanded into an earnest and purposeful determination to +do his duty as he saw it and to carry his congregation in spirit to the +heights he would achieve. + +He--and they--had risen to a certain apex of spiritual experience through +the first months of his earnest endeavor, and then the cogs had begun to +slip. Suddenly Willett Ford Hunt's castles toppled and collapsed about +him. He found himself, half stunned, wholly mazed, wallowing in the +debris of his first church row, the renewed war over the Ditson pew. + +Hunt had extricated himself from this cataclysm with difficulty, almost +like a man lifting himself off the earth by his bootstraps. The Ditson +feud was by no means at an end even now, and it never would be ended as +long as two Ditsons of different branches of the family remained alive. +Hunt had sought to renew his own and his congregation's spiritual life. +It was then and not until then that he discovered the fire was out. + +Oh, for a church where one might preach as one pleased, so long as one +followed the spiritual instincts aroused by right living and a true +desire to help one's fellow men! That is what Hunt said he longed for. + +But actually what he longed for is what perhaps we all long for whether +we know it or not--appreciation. Not fulsome praise, not a mawkishly +sentimental fawning flattery. He desired to feel that the understanding +heart of the community apprehended what he wished to do and respected +his effort though he might fall short of the goal. + +There seemed to be no heart--understanding or otherwise--in Ditson +Corners. Why! A wild Western mining camp, such as Joe said Canyon Pass +was, could be no more ungrateful a soil to cultivate than this +case-hardened, hide-bound, self-centered and utterly uncharitable +Berkshire community. + +The thought--not even audibly expressed--nevertheless shocked Hunt. + +Hunt reached for the letter again. What had Joe said about there being a +field for religious endeavor in Canyon Pass? It was along in the first +part of the screed, and when he had found it he read: + + Joshing aside, Willie, I believe you might dig down to the very + heart of Canyon Pass--and I believe it has a heart. You were such a + devil of a fellow for getting at the tap-root of a subject. If + anybody can electrify the moral fiber of Canyon Pass--as some of them + say I have the business part--it will be a man like you. You could do + the "Lazarus, arise!" stunt if anybody could--make the composite + moral man of Canyon Pass get up, put on a boiled shirt, and go forth + a decent citizen. And believe me, the composite figure of the moral + man here sadly needs such an awakening. + +There was something that gripped Hunt in the rough and ready diction of +this letter--something that aroused his imagination. It brought to his +mind, too, a picture of Joe himself--a picture of both his physical and +his mental proportions. + +The Reverend Willett Ford Hunt was no pigmy himself, nor did he lack +courage and vigor. He was good to look upon, dark without being sallow, +crowned with a thick brush of dull black hair--there were some brown +lights in it--possessing good features, keen gray eyes, broad shoulders, +a hundred and eighty pounds of gristle and flesh on a perfect bony +structure, and could look over a six-barred gate before he vaulted it. +He had not allowed his spiritual experiences, neither rising nor +falling, to interfere with his gymnastics or his daily walk. + +But Joe Hurley topped Hunt by two inches, was broader, hardier, a wholly +out-of-door man. Joe was typically of the West and the wilderness. He +knew the open places and the tall timber, the mountains and the canyons, +the boisterous waters of cascade and rock-hemmed river. He was such an +entirely different being from Hunt that the latter had often wondered +why the Westerner had made such a chum and confidant of him during those +two years at college. + +And now the pastor of Ditson Corners' First Church realized that Joe +Hurley had something that he wanted. He wished he was with Joe, out +there in that raw country. He felt that he could get nearer to mankind +out there and perhaps--he said it reverently--nearer to the God he humbly +desired to serve. He thought of Betty. + +"She needs a change as much as I do. How does Joe guess that she is +becoming exactly a prim, repressed, narrow-thinking woman, and a Martha +cumbered by many cares? She needs her chance as much as I need mine." + +He heard Betty's step on the porch, and in a moment she entered the +study, her hands full of those grateful mid-spring flowers, the lily of +the valley. + +Betty Hunt was not a fragile girl, but she did not possess much of that +embonpoint the Greeks considered so necessary to beauty of figure. Nor +was she angular. At least, her grace of carriage and credibly tailored +frock masked any lack of flesh. + +Slim hands she had, too,--beautiful hands, very white and with only a +faint tracery of blue veins upon them. Really, they were a musician's +hands--pliable, light of touch, but strong. The deftness with which they +arranged the flowers suggested that she did not need vision to aid in +the task. + +Therefore she kept her gaze on Hunt. He felt it, turned, and smiled up +at her. He shook the leaves of the letter in his hand. + +"Bet," he said, "I've got another letter from Joe Hurley." + +Betty's countenance changed in a flash. + +"Oh! That Westerner?" + +There was more than disapproval in her tone. She looked away from him +quickly. Her own gray eyes filmed. A shocked, almost terrified +expression seemed to stiffen all her face. But Hunt did not see this. + +"There is no use talking, Bet," her brother pursued in an argumentative +way, thoughtfully staring at the letter again. "There is no use talking. +Joe has it right. We are vegetating here. Most people in towns like +this, here in the East, might honestly be classified among the _flora_ +rather than the _fauna_. We're like rows of cabbages in a kitchen +garden." + +"Why, Ford!" + +He grinned up at her--a suddenly recalled grimace of his boyhood. + +"There speaks the cabbage, Bet! We're all alike--or most of us are. Here +in the old Commonwealth I mean. We're afraid to step aside from the +rutted path, to accept a new idea; really afraid to be and live out each +his own individuality. + +"Ah! Out in this place Joe writes about----" + +He fingered the sheets of the letter again. She watched with the slow +fading of all animation from her face--just as though a veil were drawn +across it by invisible fingers. Her expression was not so much one of +disapproval--her eyes held something entirely different in their depths. +Was it fear? + +"This Canyon Pass is a real field for a man's efforts," burst out Hunt +with sudden exasperation. "I tell you, Bet, I feel as though my +usefulness here had evaporated. I haven't a thing in common with these +people. Carping criticism and little else confronts me whichever way I +turn." + +"You--you are nervous, Ford." + +"Nerves! What right has a man like me with nerves?" he demanded hotly. + +"But, Ford--your work here?" + +"Is a failure. Oh, yes. I can see better than you do, Bet--more +clearly--that I have lost my grip on these people." + +"Surely there are other churches in the East that would welcome a man of +your talents." + +"Aye! Another little hard-baked community in which I shall find exactly +the elements that have made my pastorate here a failure." + +"You are not a failure!" she cried loyally. + +"That's nice of you, Bet. You are a mighty good sister. But I am letting +you in for a share of the very difficulties that would soon put gray in +my hair and a stone in my bosom instead of a heart." + +"Oh, Ford!" + +"Out there--in some place like this Joe writes about--would be a new and +unplowed field. A place where a man could develop--grow, not vegetate." + +"But--but must it necessarily be the West, Ford? I am not fond of the +West." + +"You've never seen it." + +"I'm not fond of Western people." + +He looked at her with a dawning smile. "You're afraid of them, Bet." + +"Yes. I am afraid of them," whispered his sister, turning her face away +from his gaze. "They are not our kind, Ford." + +"That's exactly it," he cried, smiting the desk with the flat of his +palm. "We need to get out into the world, among people who are just as +different from 'our kind,' as you term them, as possible. There we can +expand. Out in Canyon Pass. I believe I could be a real help to that +community. What is it Joe says?" He glanced again at the letter before +him. "Yes! I might dig down to the very heart of Canyon Pass. Ditson +Corners has merely a pumping station to circulate the blood of the +community, patterned after the one at the reservoir on Knob Hill." + +She did not speak again. When Hunt looked around she had stolen from the +room. + +"Poor Bet!" he muttered. "The idea of change alarms her as it might have +alarmed Aunt Prudence. Joe Hurley is right--he's right beyond a doubt!" + + + + +CHAPTER III--A SHADOW THROWN BEFORE + + +A rider had his choice in journeying to Canyon Pass from a southerly +direction--say from Lamberton, which lies between the railroad and the +desert--of following the river trail to be deafened by the boisterous +voice of the flood, or of climbing to the high lands and there jogging +along the wagon track which finally dipped down the steeps to the ford +of the West Fork and so into the mining town. + +Spring was drifting into the background of the year. The cottonwood +leaves were the size of squirrel ears. The new fronds of the pinon had +expanded to full size and now their needles quivered in the heat of the +almost summer-like day. Joe Hurley, sitting his heavy-haunched bay, +giving as easily to the animal's paces as a sack of meal, followed the +wagon track rather than the river trail and so came to that fork where +wheel-ruts from a westerly direction joined the road along the brink of +the canyon wall. + +A cream-colored pony came cantering along the trail from Hoskins, its +rider as gaily dressed as a Mexican vaquero--a splotch of color against +the background of the evergreens almost startling to his vision. But it +was the identity of this rider that invigorated the tone of the mining +man's reflections. + +"Nell Blossom! The only sure-enough cure for ophthalmia! Am I going to +have the pleasure of being your escort back to Canyon Pass? It will sure +do me proud. The Passonians are honing for you, Nell." + +"I'm going back to the Pass--yes, Mr. Hurley," she said, pulling down her +pony to the more sedate pace of his big bay. + +"Where you been since you left us all in the lurch? There was almost a +riot at the Grub Stake when Tolley found out you had gone." + +"Boss Tolley hasn't got anything on me," she said defensively. "I'd +never sing there again, anyway." + +"Somebody said you'd lit out for the desert with Steve Siebert and Andy +McCann," and he chuckled. "They started the same day you vamoosed." + +"I might just as well have gone with those old desert rats. Pocket +hunting couldn't be much worse than Hoskins." + +"Great saltpeter! What took you to Hoskins?" exclaimed Hurley. "Where's +your local pride? If you weren't born at Canyon Pass, you've lived there +most of your life. You shouldn't encourage a dump like Hoskins to +believe for a moment that it has greater attractions than the Pass." + +"If I thought it might be more attractive, I learned better," she said +shortly. + +"Mother Tubbs got a letter from you, but she wouldn't tell us where you +were." + +"No," Nell said. "I didn't want the boys riding over there and starting +a roughhouse at the Tin Can Saloon." + +"Great saltpeter!" exclaimed Hurley again. "You don't mean to say you +been caroling your roundelays in _that_ place?" + +"A girl has to work somewhere, and I was sick to death of the Grub +Stake." + +"Boss Tolley is no pleasant citizen and his joint is no sweet-scented +garden spot, I admit," Hurley agreed. "Personally I'd like to see Tolley +run out of town and the Grub Stake eliminated. But Colorado Brown has +opened a new place and is going to run it right--so he says." + +"That's what is bringing me back," Nell confessed. "He got word to me by +Mother Tubbs, and he made me a better offer than Tolley ever would. But +I expect one cabaret is about like another in these roughneck towns." + +"I don't know about that," the man said defensively. "We mean to try to +clean up Canyon Pass. The boys have got to have amusement. Colorado +Brown is a white man, and, if he gets the backing of the better element, +he can give a good show and sell better hootch and better grub than ever +Boss Tolley dared to." + +"Hootch is hootch," Nell interrupted. "It's all bad. There's nothing +good about a rotten egg, Mr. Hurley. And the men's money is wasted in +all those places--plumb wasted!" + +He had been watching her closely as they talked. He had been watching +Nell closely, off and on, for several years. Like many of the other +young and unattached men of Canyon Pass, Joe Hurley had at one time +attempted to storm the fortress of Nell Blossom's heart. Finally he had +become convinced that the girl was not for him. + +Joe Hurley neither wore his heart on his sleeve nor was he unwise enough +to anger Nell by forcing his attentions beyond that barrier she had +raised between them. His were merely the objections of any clean-minded +man when he had seen her yielding to the machinations of Dick the Devil. +Joe knew the gambler's kind. + +He had felt no little anxiety when, with the usual spring exodus of the +two old desert rats, Steve Siebert and Andy McCann, Nell and Dick +Beckworth had likewise disappeared from the Grub Stake. Dick, of course, +had settled with Boss Tolley; he intimated that he was starting north +for the railroad at Crescent City. The hour had been so early that +nobody else had chanced to see the gambler and the girl ride away. Nell +was missed later, and all the right thinking men of the town, although +they said little, feared the worst for Nell Blossom. + +Nell had displayed at the last some little interest in Dick the Devil. +The other girls at the Grub Stake gossiped about it. + +Then came Mother Tubbs with a bona-fide letter from the girl to dam the +flood of gossip. Nell was working as usual in a cabaret. She had left +Boss Tolley because she could not stand him any longer. She was bitter +about the Grub Stake and its proprietor. And not a word in the letter +about Dick Beckworth. It was plain, even to the most suspicious, that +Dick had not gone with her after all. + +These few facts colored Joe Hurley's thoughts as they rode along the +track. What colored Nell's? + +When the sprightly talk lapsed between them, the girl's face fell into +unhappy lines. She who had been as blithe as a field lark all her life +was showing to Joe Hurley for the first time a most unnatural soberness +of spirit. Her eyes, their gaze fixed straight ahead, were filmed with +remoteness that his friendly glance could not penetrate. + +Something had changed Nell Blossom. She was no longer the happy-go-lucky +girl she had been heretofore. He wondered if, after all, her affair with +Dick Beckworth was serious. + +They skirted the Overhang, their horses now at a canter. Nell suddenly +pulled in her mount at a place where a patch along the brink of the +treacherous cap had recently crumbled. + +"Looks as if there might have been a small slide," observed Hurley +cheerfully. + +"Was--was anybody hurt?" + +"Reckon not. Just about where the big slide was years ago. There are +always bits dropping down this cliff. I tell 'em there's bound to be +another landslip some time that will play hob with Runaway River and +maybe flood out the town again. It's like living over a volcano." + +Nell still looked back at the broken edge of the cliff. "Nobody missing, +then? Nobody--er--left town?" + +He laughed. "Nobody but you and old Steve and Andy McCann. Those old +desert rats lit out the same morning you left town. Hold on! I don't +know as you know it; but Dick Beckworth went about that time. He's gone +to Denver, so Tolley says, to deal faro at a big place there." + +He could not see the girl's face. As far as he knew the statement made +no impression upon her. They jogged on practically in silence until they +came to the point where the wagon-track plunged steeply to the ford of +the West Fork, and from which spot the squalid town was first visible. + +"Ugh!" Nell shuddered and glanced at Joe again. "It is such an ugly +place." + +"Where's your civic pride, Nell?" and the other chuckled. + +"What is there to be proud of?" was her sharp demand. + +"It's a money-making town." + +"Money!" + +"Quite a necessary evil, that same money," he rejoined. "Gold is a good +foundation to build a town upon. Canyon Pass has 'got a future in front +of it,' as the feller said. Business is booming. Bank deposits are +increasing. Three families have bought piano-players, and there are at +least a dozen talking machines in town--besides the female citizens," and +he laughed again. + +"All that?" in a sneering tone. "Still, the bulk of the wages from the +mines and washings are spent for drink and in gambling. The increase in +bank deposits I bet are made by the merchants and honkytonk keepers, Mr. +Hurley. Canyon Pass is prosperous--yes. But at the expense of everything +decent and everybody's decency. Mother Tubbs has got it right. Canyon +Pass hasn't got a heart." + +"Oh--heart!" + +"Yes, heart. There's neither law nor gospel, she says. Only such law as +is enforced at the muzzle of the sheriff's gun. And as far as religion +goes--when was there ever a parson in Canyon Pass?" + +"They're rare birds, I admit. But you needn't blame me, Nell." + +"I do blame you!" she exclaimed fiercely. "You're at fault--you, and +Slickpenny Norris who runs the bank, and Bill Judson of the Three Star, +and the manager of the Oreode Company, and the other more influential +men. It is your fault that there isn't a church and other civilized +things in Canyon Pass." + +"Great saltpeter, Nell! You're not wailing for a Sunday School and a sky +pilot?" + +"Me? I reckon not!" She almost spat out the scornful denial. "I'm just +telling you what your old Canyon Pass is. It's a back number. But I'm +free to confess if a parson and a crew of psalm-singing tenderfoots came +here, I'd like enough pull my freight again--and that time for keeps! +Even Hoskins would be more endurable." + +At this outburst Joe Hurley broke into laughter. Nell Blossom was +paradoxical--had always been. + +And yet, what Nell had said about the shortcomings of Canyon Pass stuck +in Joe Hurley's mind. Within a few days the thought, fermenting within +him, resulted in that letter which had so interested--not to say +excited--the Reverend Willett Ford Hunt in far-away Ditson Corners. + + + + +CHAPTER IV--PHILOSOPHY BOUND IN HOMESPUN + + +"No, there ain't no news--no news a-tall," declared Mrs. Sam Tubbs, +comfortably rocking. "Nothing ever happens in Canyon Pass. For a right +busy town on its main street, there's less happens in the back alleys +than in any camp I ever seen--and I seen a-plenty. + +"It's in the back alleys o' life, Nell, that the interesting things +happen. Folks buy and sell, and argue and scheme, and otherwise play the +fool out on the main streets. But in the alleys babies is born, and +people die, and boys and gals make love and marry. Them's the re'lly +interesting things in life." + +"Ugh! Love and marriage! They are the biggest fool things the world +knows anything about." + +Mother Tubbs chuckled. It was an unctuous chuckle. It shook her great +body like a violent explosion in a jelly-bag and made the wide-armed +rocking-chair she sat in creak. + +"Sho!" she said. "I've heard seventeen-year-old gals say as much 'fore +now, who dandled their second young-un on their knee 'fore they was +twenty. The things we're least sure of in this world is love and +marriage. Lightning ain't nothin' to 'em--nothin'! + +"Now, there's Mr. Joe Hurley----" + +Nell started, turned on the top step of the Tubbs' back porch, and +looked searchingly at the old woman with a frown on her brow. + +"Now, there's Mr. Joe Hurley," pursued Mother Tubbs placidly. "There +ain't a thing the matter with that man but that he needs a wife." + +"Why doesn't he take one, then?" demanded Nell wickedly. "There are +plenty of them around here whose husbands don't seem to care anything +about them." + +"Like me and my Sam, heh?" put forth Mother Tubbs, still amused. "But I +reckon if Mr. Joe Hurley, or any other man, should attempt to run away +with me, Sam would go gunning for him. What they call the 'first law of +Nater'--which is the sense of possession, not self-preservation--would +probably get to working in Sam's mind. + +"He'd get to thinking of my flapjacks and chicken-with-fixin's and his +bile would rise 'gainst the man--no matter who--who was enjoying them +victuals. + +"Oh, yes. Not only is the way to a man's heart through his stomach; but +believe me, Nell, most men are like those people the Bible speaks of +'whose god is their stomach.'" + +"Does the Bible say that, Mother Tubbs?" broke in the girl. + +"Somethin' near to it." + +"Then there is some sense in the Bible, isn't there?" + +"Hush-er-you, Nell Blossom!" ejaculated the old woman sternly. "Does +seem awful that you're such a heathen. The Bible's plumb full of good +advice, and lovely stories, and sweet truths. I used to read it a lot +before I broke my specs. But I remember lots that I read, thanks be." + +"I don't care for stories," said the girl crossly. "And I don't know +that I believe there is a heaven," she went on quickly. "Once you are +dead I reckon that's all there is to it. I won't learn any more songs +about heaven. I used to cry over them--and about folks dying. I remember +the first song Dad taught me to sing in the saloons. It used to make me +cry when I came to the verse: + + Last night as I lay on my pillow-- + Last night as I lay on my bed-- + Last night as I lay on my pillow, + I dreamt that my Bonnie was dead. + Bring back! Oh, bring back! + Bring back my Bonnie to me, to me---- + +It's all stuff and nonsense!" she broke off with confidence. + +"That ain't a hymn," said Mother Tubbs placidly. "Hymns is different, +Nell. A good, uplifting hymn like 'Am I a Soldier of the Cross,' or +'Beulah Land,' takes you right out of yourself--bears your heart up on +wings o' hope and helps you forget you're only a poor, miserable worm----" + +"I'm not a worm!" interrupted Nell with vigor. "I'm as good as +anybody--as good as anybody in Canyon Pass, anyway, even if some of these +women do look down on me." + +"Of course you are, Nell. 'Worm' is just a manner o' speaking." + +"Dad trained me to sing in these saloons, I know," went on the girl +quickly, angrily, "because he was too weakly to use a pick and shovel. +We had to eat, and he thought he had to have drink. So I had to earn it. +But I've been a good girl." + +"I never doubted it, Nell," Mother Tubbs hastened to say. "Nobody could +doubt it that knowed you as well as I do." She let her gaze wander over +the squalid back yards of the row of shacks of which the Tubbs' domicile +was no better than its neighbors. "They don't know you like I do, Nell. +You've lived with me for three years--all the time you was growing into a +woman, as ye might say. You hafter do what you do, and I don't 'low when +we are forced into a job, no matter what it is, that it's counted +against us as a sin." + +Nell flashed the placid old woman another glance. There was something +hidden behind that look--of late there was something secretive in all +Nell Blossom said or did. Did Mother Tubbs understand that this was so? +Was she, in her rude but kindly way, offering a sympathy that she feared +to put into audible speech for fear of offending the proud girl? + +The latter suddenly laughed, but it was not the songbird's note her +voice expressed. There was something harsh--something scornful--in it. + +"I reckon I could get away with murder, and you'd say I was all right, +Mother Tubbs," she declared. + +"Well, mebbe," the old woman admitted, her eyes twinkling. + +"Suppose--" said Nell slowly, her face turned away again, "suppose a +party was the cause of another's death--even if he deserved it--but didn't +mean just that--suppose, anyway, what you did caused a man's death, for +whatever reason, although unintended? Would it be a sin, Mother Tubbs?" + +She might have been reflecting upon a quite casual supposition for all +her tone and manner betrayed. Just how wise Mother Tubbs was--just how +far-seeing--no human soul could know. The old woman had seen much and +learned much during her long journey through a very rough and wicked +world. + +"I tell you, Nell," Mother Tubbs observed, "it's all according to what's +in our hearts, I reckon. If what we done caused a party to die, and we +had death in our heart when we done the thing that killed him, I reckon +it would be a sin. No getting around that. For we can't take God's +duties into our hands and punish even the wickedest man with death--like +we'd crunch a black beetle under our bootsole. 'Vengeance is Mine; I +will repay, saith the Lord.'" She repeated the phrase with reverence. +"No, sin is sin. And because a party deserves to be killed, in our +opinion, don't excuse our killing him." + +Nell was quite still for a minute. Then she shrugged her shoulders. + +"Humph!" she said briskly. "I don't think much of your religion, Mother +Tubbs. No, I don't." + +Mother Tubbs began to croon: + + It's the old-style religion, + The old-style religion, + The old-style religion, + That gets you on your way. + 'Twas good enough for Moses, + Good enough for Moses-- + The old-style religion, + That gets you on your way. + +"It ain't no new-fangled religion, Nell. But it's comforting----" + +"It wouldn't comfort me none," answered the girl. "I reckon it ain't +religion--and a sky pilot--that Canyon Pass needs after all. If we'd just +run about fifty of these tramps out of town--and Boss Tolley and his +gang--we could get along without psalm-singing and such flubdubbery." + +"You ain't talking like you used to, Nell," said the old woman, +observing her curiously. + +"I hadn't thought so much about it. Religion is too soft. These +roughnecks would ride right over a parson and--and that kind. Now, +wouldn't they?" + +"Not altogether. I expect they'd try--at first. But if a man had enough +grace in him, he'd stand up against 'em." + +"He'd better have backbone." + +"Same thing," chuckled Mother Tubbs. "Same thing. It takes the grace of +God to stiffen a man's backbone--I tell you true. I hope this parson Mr. +Joe Hurley talks about has got plenty of grace." + +"Who--what?" gasped the girl. "What parson?" + +"Well, now! That is a gob o' news. But I thought you must o' heard +it--over to Colorado Brown's, or somewhere--the way you was talkin'. This +parson is a friend of Mr. Joe Hurley, and he wants to get him out yere." + +"From the East?" + +"Yeppy. Mr. Joe says he went to school with him. And he's some +preacher." + +"What do you think o' that!" ejaculated Nell. "Mr. Hurley didn't say +anything to me about it the day we rode into the Pass together." + +"I reckon not. This has all been hatched up since then." + +"But, Mother Tubbs!" cried the girl. "You don't expect any tenderfoot +parson can come in here and make over Canyon Pass?" + +"I reckon not. We folks have got to make ourselves over. But we need a +leader--we need a Shower of the Way. We've lost our eyesight--the best of +us--when it comes to seeing God's ways. My soul! I couldn't even raise a +prayer in conference meeting no more. But I used to go reg'lar when I +was a gal--played the melodeon--led the singin'--and often got down on my +knees in public and raised a prayer." + +"Humph!" scoffed the girl. "If God answered prayer, I bet you prayed +over Sam enough to have cured him of getting drunk forty times over!" + +"I don't know--I don't know," returned Mother Tubbs thoughtfully. "I been +thinking lately that, mebbe when I was praying to God to save Sam from +his sins, I was cursing Sam for his meanness! I ain't got as sweet a +disposition as I might have, Nell." + +"Oh, yes you have, Mother Tubbs!" exclaimed Nell, and suddenly jumped up +to kiss the old woman warmly. "You're a dear, sweet old thing!" + +"Well, now," rejoined Mother Tubbs complacently, "I ought to purr like +any old tabby-cat for that." + + + + +CHAPTER V--HOW THE PASSONIANS TOOK IT + + +"Well," observed Bill Judson oracularly, "it's about time for something +new to break in Canyon Pass. About once in so often even a +dead-an'-alive camp like this yere has got to feel the bump of progress +from the train behind. Otherwise we'd stay stalled till Gabriel's +trump." + +He spoke to Smithy, his single clerk at the Three Star Grocery. He had +to speak to Smithy, or to the circumambient air, for nobody but the +gangling clerk was within hearing. They lounged on the store porch in +the middle of the afternoon, and the only other thing alive on the main +street of Canyon Pass was a wandering burro browsing on the tufts of +grass edging the shallow gutters. + +"I don't see as Canyon Pass has got to be bumped by a gospel sharp to +wake it up," complained Smithy, stretching his arms as though they were +elastic. "Yahhoo! Well, he'll have a sweet time here, Mr. Judson." + +"I dunno," said the storekeeper reflectively. "For my part I feel like I +favored it." + +"'Cause it's something new?" + +"'Cause it's something needed. I ain't one of those fellers that run +after every new thing just because it is new. But I'm for progress. I +want to see the Pass get ahead. Crescent City and Lamberton have both +got churches and parsons." + +"And they've got railroads," put in Smithy, making a good point. "Canyon +Pass needs the railroad more'n it does a parson." + +"Son," proclaimed Judson, "before Canyon Pass can get a railroad +connection, mountains have got to be moved and the meanest stretch of +desert that ever spawned lizards, sidewinders and cacti, and produce in +their places about five hundred square mile of irrigated farmland to pay +for spiking the rails to the sleepers. See?" + +"Well, the farms might come," declared Smithy defensively. + +"Sure. So might Christmas come at Fourth o' July. But we ain't never +celebrated the two holidays together yet. No, sir. To irrigate the edge +of that desert even, a dam would have to be built across the southern +outlet of the canyon, and that would back the water up yere in freshet +season till the roof of my shack would be so deep under the surface that +about all I could properly keep in stock would be perch and rainbow +trout. + +"They ain't building branch railroads no more to mining camps like +Canyon Pass. That's why we all chipped in for the stamp mill and the +cyanide plant. Nope. We'll freight in our supplies with mules and +communicate with the more effete centers of civilization by stagecoach +for some time to come I reckon. + +"That being the case we got to uplift ourselves without the help of the +iron horse, as the feller said. And having a church and a parson is +uplifting." + +"Nobody ain't talked very brash about a church." + +"Parson comes first. Naturally. Of course this friend of Joe Hurley is +only coming on a visit at first." + +"He'll have a sweet visit here," repeated Smithy. + +"That's according," said Judson. "We got to be hospitable. If a judge, +or a senator, or a school teacher, or even a drummer sellin' fishin' +tackle, came yere we'd feel like we wanted to show him the town's best +side. Why not this parson?" + +"Huh! A drummer don't try to convert us and innovate psalm-singing and +such," grumbled Smithy. + +"Son," drawled Judson, his eyes twinkling under his bushy brows, "you're +convicted of sin right now. You're scare't of this parson--and that's the +trouble with most of you fellers who are raising a yawp against progress +as represented by this Reverend Hunt." + +"'Taint only us fellers," grumbled Smithy. "Some of the womenfolk ain't +pleased. Say! Nell says she don't want no black-coated parson in this +camp. Says it would give her the willies, so she couldn't sing." + +It was an indisputable fact--Joe Hurley himself had discovered it--that +the Passonians were divided upon the matter of the expected coming of +the Reverend Willett Ford Hunt. The sheep and the goats that had +heretofore milled together in a general herd, were dividing upon +strictly religious lines. Joe was somewhat surprised. Some of the very +people he had presumed would welcome the innovation, were suspicious of +it. + +Mr. Robertson Norris, "Slickpenny" Norris was his undignified +appellation, became quite red of face and beat rather a futile fist upon +the banking counter as he gave his opinion to Joe Hurley. Norris was a +puny-looking, string-bean sort of man. The height of rage could not have +made his appearance impressive. + +"Joe Hurley, you are a director of this bank, and your last statement of +the Great Hope shows that you are a good mining man. I find on most +subjects you display good sense. But on this question you're all +wrong--all wrong!" + +"I don't get you--I don't get you at all," drawled Hurley. "A moral man +like you, Norris, I reckoned would welcome the idea of having a parson +in the town." + +"I have no quarrel with parsons--none at all, Joe," declared the banker. +"But Canyon Pass is in no present shape--financially, I mean--to +contemplate the building of a church edifice. A church is something you +can't tax, and it brings in absolutely no revenue to the town. It's not +an asset, but a liability, and the Pass can't afford any such luxuries +at this time." + +"Great saltpeter!" + +"Listen to me, Joe Hurley! I've advocated proper town improvements, even +when they take the skin off my own nose, and always will. I am strong +for Main Street being paved and sidewalks laid, though 'twould cost me a +pretty penny. We ought to set out trees. Them oil lamps on wooden posts +are a disgrace. I'd make every merchant paint the front of his buildings +on Main Street once a year, by law." + +"Well! What's the matter with a church?" demanded Hurley. "That is, if +we get that far." + +"It's absolutely no use. If one is built it won't be nothing but a +shack. It won't add anything to the importance of the town. No, I don't +approve. I'm disappointed in you, Joe." + +"All right--all right!" cried Joe in some heat. "But I'm not disappointed +in you, old-timer. Great saltpeter! I wonder what you did before you +drifted into Canyon Pass that a parson and religion are likely to bring +fresh into your memory." + +With this backhand slap at the banker, the young man went out. It was +rather odd that Joe Hurley, like Bill Judson, should suspect the +Passonians of the same secret reason for not desiring a spiritual +refreshment of the town. But then, both the storekeeper and the owner of +the Great Hope were observant of human nature and knew Canyon Pass and +its inhabitants very well. + +Joe Hurley's proposal was rattling the dry bones. If he saw two men +conversing on the street, with both their arms and whiskers waving in +the breeze, he might be sure the topic under discussion was the coming +of "that gospel-sharp Joe Hurley's sicked on to us." + +If two housewives met in midflight between store and store in the course +of a forenoon's shopping, the principal subject of gossip was bound to +be the possibility of a parson settling in Canyon Pass. Nor did the +feminine opinion always march with that of Mother Tubbs. + +In spite of the emancipation of the sex and its introduction to the high +office of the ballot, the women of the mining town were--like women +everywhere--considerably influenced by the expressed opinions of their +husbands, brothers, and sons. If Charlie Raidlaw, who dealt faro for +Boss Tolley, or Phin Shattuck, one of Colorado Brown's "gentlemanly +mixers," gave it as his opinion that a white-liveried, lily-handed +parson was going to be a pest in the town and sure to hurt business, +Mrs. Charlie and Sue Shattuck, Phin's sister, were pretty sure to scout +the idea that a parson in the Pass would be any improvement. + +"It's needed," Rosabell Pickett announced with conviction. Rosabell +played the piano in the Grub Stake, painted her face like a Piute +Indian, dressed as gaudily as a circus poster, and was the only employee +Boss Tolley had who really was not afraid of him. In fact, Rosabell was +not afraid of any man and had small respect for most; she was frank in +saying so. A girl can be a piano player in a honkytonk and be long on +self-respect. Rosabell approved of herself--quite. + +"It's needed," repeated Rosabell. "I wish he'd preach in the street out +there, just stir up the people till they was with him, every one, and +then march in here with an ax and smash every hootch bottle behind your +bar, Tolley--that's what I wish." + +"You're crazy, Rosie!" cried the proprietor of the Grub Stake. "I'd +hafter go a-gunnin' for any man that tried to smash up my business +thataway, and that wouldn't make the Grub Stake friends. You oughtn't to +bite the hand that feeds you, Rosie. If it wasn't for the Grub Stake--and +me--you wouldn't be wearin' rhinestone shoebuckles." + +"Is that so?" countered the young woman. "You needn't worry none about +my biting your hand 'nless you keep it washed oftener than is your +present habit. And I want you to know that I don't sell my opinions when +I take the Grub Stake's pay-envelope--not much!" + +"Well, I wanter see that dratted parson come in yere!" said Tolley +blusteringly. + +"He won't come alone," put in Hurley, who had been listening at the bar +to the argument. + +"Huh?" + +"I say he won't come in here alone. I might as well serve notice here +and now that this Parson Hunt is a friend of mine. I don't never aim to +throw a friend down or fail him when he gets into a jam. If he comes in +here--for any purpose, Tolley--I'll likely be with him." + +"You keep him out o' yere! You keep him out!" blustered the other. "We +don't want no sky pilots here in the Pass. Anyway, I won't have 'em in +the Grub Stake." + +A burly fellow in overalls and riding boots broke in. He had already +sampled Tolley's red-eye more deeply than was wise. + +"You say the word, boss," he growled, "and we'll run the preacher out o' +town." + +Joe Hurley looked at the ruffian coldly. "You won't run anybody out of +town, Hicks--not any," the mine owner said. "But I'll tell you something +that may be worth your attention. If Canyon Pass ever gets up on its +hind legs and reares and starts to run certain tramps and ne'er-do-wells +out of town, I'm ready to lay a bet with any man that you'll be right up +in the forefront of them that are chased out. Get me?" + +Hicks, scowling, dropped his hand to the gunbutt peeping above the +waistband of his overalls. Joe Hurley did not flicker an eyelash nor +move a finger. Finally Hicks lurched away with an oath and went out +through the swinging doors. + +"And that's that," said Rosabell briskly, cutting the tense chord of +silence. "I always did say the more of a boozer a man is, the quicker +he'll take water. I hope your friend Mr. Hunt, Joe, has got backbone +same as you have. Is he an old gentleman?" + +"Not so you'd notice it," replied Hurley with a sudden grin. + +He remained awhile to bandy repartee with Rosabell and some of the other +idlers. But Boss Tolley slipped out of the honkytonk, although he did +not follow Hicks. + +Mulligan Lane ran at the rear of the stores, saloons, and other +amusement places facing this side of Main Street. Colorado Brown's +cabaret was not far from Tolley's rear door. It was dusk of rather a +sultry day--a day that had forecast the heat of the approaching summer. + +Tolley lounged under the withered cottonwood behind Brown's +dance-pavilion. The sign of the flood's highwater mark--that flood of +twenty years before--had been cut by some idle knifeblade deep into the +bole of the tree high over Tolley's head, and he was a tall man. A +sallow-faced, bony giant of a man was Tolley, hairy and brawny, without +a redeeming feature in his cruel countenance. Had he not possessed, in +the memorable words of Bill Judson, "a wishbone where his backbone +should have been," Boss Tolley would have been a very dangerous man. +Lacking personal courage he depended upon the backing of men like Hicks +and his bouncer, Macpherson. + +He slouched now under the tree and waited--a sullen lump of a figure +whose dark garments blended with the shadowy trunk as the night fell. +The small figure coming up the slope of the lane approached the back +door of Colorado Brown's place without seeing the man until almost +within arm's length. + +"Hey, Nell!" She started, looked up, stepped back a pace. "Don't be +scare't of me." + +"Don't flatter yourself, Tolley," replied the girl curtly. + +"I want to speak with you." + +"I don't want to speak to you." + +"Say--listen! You ain't treating me right. You walked out and left me +flat. You didn't even ask me for a raise. How'd you know I wouldn't give +you as much as Brown does?" + +"I didn't want to know. I got through. You didn't have any hold on me, +Tolley." + +"Mebbe not. Mebbe I have. You better listen," for the girl was turning +scornfully away. "You and Dick played it low down on me." + +Now she gave him her full attention. It was so dark under the tree that +he could not see her face clearly, but he knew some sudden emotion shook +her. To himself he grinned. + +"I got to admit my losing you and Dick has put a crimp in the Grub +Stake's business. You was my best performer, and Dick Beckworth was the +best card-sharp I had. Looker here! You come back to the Grub Stake +and--and I won't say nothing more." + +"What do you mean?" She had almost instantly gained control of herself. +"You can say all you like. I am never going to sing in your joint +again." + +"You ain't?" + +"No." + +"You better think again." His voice was grim, menacing. "I can say +something you won't like to hear." + +"Say it." She spat the command out as boldly as was her usual speech; +but in her heart sudden fear fluttered like a netted bird. + +"I been tellin' them Dick Beckworth lit out for Crescent City, and that +I heard later he was dealing 'em in Denver." + +"Dick Beckworth?" gasped the girl. + +"Yeppy. I told 'em that. But I know derned well he didn't ride north +that day----" + +"Why do you speak to me of Dick Beckworth?" + +She tried to say it boldly, calmly. She stared at him in the dusk, her +figure tense. He could see her blue eyes gleam like twin sapphires. + +"I'm telling you. Listen," whispered Tolley hoarsely. "I could show 'em +the bones of Dick's hoss in the gravel below the Overhang--right at the +edge of Runaway River. I got his saddle right now in my big safe. What +do you say to that?" + +"Dick----" + +"I reckon you know how the hoss and the saddle went over the cliff. And +Dick was with 'em. He wasn't with 'em when I raked out the saddle. Dick +had gone to some place a dern sight more distant than Crescent City--nor +yet Denver." + +She was silent. He could hear her quick, labored breathing. Satisfaction +fired all the mean soul of the man. + +"You think it over, Nell." + +He turned and lurched heavily away. The girl stood rooted to the place, +more shaken, more terrified, than even Boss Tolley suspected. He was out +of sight before she gained strength to move. + + + + +CHAPTER VI--THE APPROACH + + +In fairylike traceries the tiny drops of a mist-like rain embroidered +the broad pane of the Pullman. Betty Hunt gazed through this at the +flying fields and woods, the panorama of the railroad fences, and the +still nearer blur of telegraph poles with that hopeless feeling a +sentenced prisoner must have as he journeys toward the prison pen. + +Everything she cared for save her brother, everything she knew and that +was familiar to her daily life, every object of her thought and +interest, was being left behind by the onrush of the train. Time, with a +big besom, was sweeping her quiet past into the discard--she felt it, she +knew it! They would never go back to Ditson Corners again, or to Amberly +where they had lived as children with Aunt Prudence or to any similar +sanctuary. + +That was what Betty had most longed for since her last term at boarding +school, which had ended for her so abruptly with the death of her Aunt +Prudence Mason. Her last previous journey by train had been that somber +one to the funeral. When Betty and her brother had later moved to the +Ditson Corners' parsonage they had done so by motor. + +The drumming of the wheels over the rail-joints kept time with the +swiftly flying thoughts of the girl. She lay in the corner of the broad, +tan plush seat like a crumpled flower that had been carelessly flung +there. Thoughts of that last train journey seared her mind in hot +flashes, as summer lightnings play about the horizon at dusk. + +First one thing, then another, she glimpsed--mere jottings of the +happenings that had gone before the hurried good-byes at school and the +anxious trip homeward. These remembrances now were like the projection +of a broken film upon the moving picture screen. + +And those trying, anxious weeks which followed the funeral while Ford +was completing his divinity course and received his ordination and which +came to an end with his selection as pastor of the First Church at +Ditson Corners! All through these weeks was the dull, miserable pain of +disillusion and horror that Betty must keep to herself. She could not +tell Ford. She could tell nobody. What had happened during the last few +weeks at school was a secret that must be buried--buried in her mind and +heart as deeply as Aunt Prudence was buried under the flowering New +England sod. + +Betty, with her secret, was like a hurt animal that hides away to die or +recover of its wound as nature may provide. She could not die. She knew +that, of course, from the first. Time, she felt, would never erase the +scar upon her soul; but the wound itself must heal. + +All that--that which was now such a horror in her thought--she had hoped +to bury deeper as time passed. She had devoted herself to her brother's +needs. She had made his comfort her constant care. Busy mind and busy +hands were her salvation from the gnawing regret for that secret +happening that she believed must wither all her life. + +Now this sudden and unlooked for change had come to shake up all her +fragile plans like the shifting of a kaleidoscope. They were going West, +toward the land she hated, toward people whom, she told herself, she had +every reason to suspect and fear. Why had Ford kept up his +correspondence with that Joe Hurley? Betty did not blame her brother for +wishing to get away from Ditson Corners. But why need it have been that +Westerner who offered the soul-sore minister the refuge that he so +gladly accepted? + +Betty, without a clear explanation, had no reason to oppose to Hunt's +desire for a change that would satisfy him. And such explanation she +would have died rather than have given him! She was swept on toward the +West, toward whatever fate had in store for her, like a chip upon a +current that could not be stemmed. + +Aunt Prudence had left her money--conservatively invested--to Betty; but +she was not to touch the principal until she was thirty. "If the girl +marries before that age, no shiftless man can get it away from her," had +been the spinster's frank statement in her will. "If she is foolish +enough to marry after that age, it is to be hoped she will then have +sense at least regarding money matters." The brother had a small nest +egg left from his father's estate after paying his college and divinity +school expenses. + +So they were not wholly dependent upon Hunt's salary. He could afford to +take a vacation, and it was on this ground--the need of rest--that he had +resigned from the pulpit of Ditson Corners' First Church. They had left +some really good friends behind them in the little Berkshire town--some +who truly appreciated the young minister. But the clique against him had +shown its activity much too promptly to salve Hunt's pride. His +resignation had been accepted without question, and he had remained only +to see Bardell established in his place. + +Betty condemned herself that she could not enter whole-heartedly into +Hunt's high expectations of the new field that lay before him. It was +adventure--high adventure--to his mind. And why should a parson not long +for a bigger life and broader development as well as another healthy +man? + +He was going to Canyon Pass without a penny being guaranteed him. Joe +Hurley urged him to come; but he told him frankly that there would be +opposition. Certain Passonians would not welcome a parson or the +establishment of religious worship. + +But this opposition was that of the enemy. The Reverend Willett Ford +Hunt was not afraid of the devil in an open fight. Opposition in the +church itself was what had conquered him at Ditson Corners. Let the +phalanxes of wickedness confront him at Canyon Pass, he would stand +against them! + +Betty saw him coming back down the aisle of the car, smiling broadly, a +handsome, muscular figure of a man. He did not look the cleric. She had +been so used to seeing him in the black frock-coat and immaculate white +collar that she was at first rather shocked when he had donned another +suit to travel in. + +He was almost boyish looking. He was a big man, and she believed him +capable of big things. She could almost wish he had selected some other +road in life--although that thought was shocking to her, too. Ford might +well have been a business man, an engineer, a banker, a promoter. +Betty's ideas were somewhat vague about business life; but she felt sure +Ford would have shone in any line. She was a loyal sister. + +She shook herself out of the fog of her own thoughts and smiled up at +him. + +"Met a man in the smoking room who knows that country about Canyon Pass +like a book, Bet," Hunt said, dropping down beside her. "It really is a +part of the last frontier. We shall always be a pioneer people, we +Americans. There is something in the raw places of the earth that +intrigues us all--save the saps. And sap, even, hardens in such an +environment as this we are bound for." + +"I hope you will not be disappointed, Ford." + +"Disappointed? Of course I shall be disappointed and heart-sick and +soul-weary. But I believe my efforts will not be narrowed and +circumscribed and bound down by formalism and caste. As Joe says, I +won't be 'throwed and hog-tied.' The old-time revivalists used to urge +their converts to 'get liberty.' I'll get liberty out there, I feel +sure, in Canyon Pass." + +She could say nothing to dash his enthusiasm. It was too late for that +now, in any case. Betty even tried to smile. But her face felt as stiff +as though it were like to crack in the process. + +"All that territory of which Canyon Pass is the heart," pursued Hunt, +"has been phenomenally rich in ore in past time. They have to comb the +mines and sweep the hydraulic-washed benches very scientifically now to +make the game pay. Yet Canyon Pass is distinctly a mining town and +always must be. + +"My new acquaintance says it is really 'wild and woolly.'" He smiled +more broadly. "I fancy it is all Joe said it is. Crude, rude, +roughneck--but honest. If I can dig down to the honest heart of Canyon +Pass, Bet, I shall succeed. We'll not worry about first impressions, or +the lack of super-civilized conveniences, or the fact that men don't +often shave, and the women wear their hair untidily. Of course, I'll +make you as comfortable as possible----" + +"I can stand whatever you can, Ford," she interrupted with brisk +conviction. + +"Well," with a sigh of relief, "that's fine. Oh, Bet! This is the life +we're going to. I am sure you will be happier when you once get a taste +of it." + +But she made no reply. + + * * * * * + +When the two mountain-hogs, drawing and pushing the trans-continental +train up the grade, ground to a brief stop at Crescent City, Betty Hunt +was surprised to see brick office buildings, street cars, several +taxi-cabs at the station, paved streets, and the business bustle of a +Western city which always impresses the stranger with the idea that the +place is commercially much more important than it actually is. + +"This--this cannot be Canyon Pass?" she stammered to Hunt. + +"No." He laughed. "But here's Joe Hurley--bless him! Joe!" + +He shouted it heartily before dropping off the car step and turning to +help Betty. But Joe Hurley strode across the platform and playfully +shouldered the minister aside. + +"Your servant, Miss Betty!" the Westerner cried, sweeping off his +broad-brimmed hat in a not ungraceful bow. + +The girl from the East floated off the step into his arms. Joe set her +as lightly as a thistle-down upon the platform and somehow found her +free hand. + +"When Willie, here, told me you would come with him, Miss Betty, I +promised the boys at the Great Hope a holiday when you arrived. Great +saltpeter!" he added, stepping off to admire her from her rippling, +bistered hair to her silk stockinged ankles. "You sure will make the +boys sit up and take notice!" + +Here Hunt, having relieved himself of the hand-bags, got hold of +Hurley's hand and began pumping. The two young men looked into each +other's eyes over that handclasp. They had little to say, but much to +feel. Betty sighed as she looked on. Her last hope of quick escape from +the West went with that sigh. The handclasp and the look were like an +oath between the two young men to stand by each other. + +"Well, old sobersides!" said Joe. + +"Same old Joe, aren't you?" rejoined the minister. + +"Come on. We'll get your bags into a taxi and go up to the hotel," +Hurley said briskly. "I got rooms for you. We can't go on to the Pass +till eight o'clock to-morrow morning." + +"Is there but one train a day, Mr. Hurley?" Betty asked as he helped her +into the cab. + +"To Canyon Pass? Ain't ever been one yet," and he chuckled. "We go over +with Lizard Dan and the mail. Some day, when the roads are fixed up, we +may get motor service. Until then, a six-mule stagecoach has to serve." + +"Oh!" + +Hunt's eyes twinkled. "Break it to her gently, Joe," he advised. "Bet is +prepared to be very much shocked, I know. This frontier life is going to +be an eye-opener for her." + +"'Frontier life!'" snorted Hurley. "Why, we're plumb civilized. Bill +Judson has laid in a stock of near-silk hosiery and shirts with pleated +bosoms. Wait till you see some of the boys in holiday rig. Knock your +eye out, when it comes to style." + +Betty smiled. She did not mind being laughed at. Besides, the modern +appearance of Crescent City had somewhat relieved her apprehension. Even +the hotel was not bad. Their rooms were cheerful and clean, so she could +excuse the brand-new, shiny oak furniture and the garish brass beds. + +She did not dislike Joe Hurley--not really. It was only his influence +over Ford that she observed with a somewhat jealous eye. Although the +mining man seldom addressed her brother seriously, she realized that he +was fond of Ford. The latter was much the stronger character of the +two--she was sure of that. He would never be overborne in any essential +thing by the lighter-minded Hurley. But Ford admired the latter so much +that Betty felt her brother was likely to give heed to Hurley's advice +in most matters connected with this new and strange environment to which +they had come. + +"Bet is scared of the West and of you Westerners," Hunt said lightly. "I +don't know but what she expected you to have sprouted horns since she +saw you before, Joe." + +"Shucks!" chuckled the other. "We're mostly born with 'em out here, Miss +Betty. But they de-horn us before they let us run loose out o' the +branding pens. And remember, I spent two years in the effete East." + +"It never touched you," and Hunt laughed. "You're just as wild and +woolly as ever." + +The girl noted that Hurley was thoughtful of their every comfort. He +showed them the best of the town that day; but in the evening they +rested at the hotel and talked. The two men conversed while they smoked +in Hunt's room, with the door opened into Betty's. She heard the murmur +of their voices as she sat by her darkened window and looked out into +the electrically lighted main street of Crescent City. + +She was not at all thrilled by the novelty of the situation. She was +only troubled. + + * * * * * + + +Those strangers passing by! She saw a face in the throng but seldom as +the street lights flickered upon it. And always she was fearfully +expectant of seeing--What? Whom? She shuddered. + + + + +CHAPTER VII--THE FIRST TRICK + + +The high-springed stagecoach lurched drunkenly over the trail that wound +through a valley Betty thought gnomes might have hewn out when the world +was young. Barren, riven rock, gaunt, stunted trees, painted cliffs +hazed by distance, all added to a prospect that fell far short in the +Eastern girl's opinion of being picturesque. + +Rather, it was just what her brother had termed this Western +country--raw. Betty did not like any rude thing. She shrank instinctively +from anything crude and unfinished. + +The three--herself, her brother, and Joe Hurley--occupied the seat on the +roof of the plunging coach just behind the driver. "Lizard Dan" was an +uncouth individual both in speech and appearance. He was bewhiskered, +overalled, wore broken boots and an enormous slouched hat, and his hands +were so grimy that Betty shuddered at them, although they so skillfully +handled the reins over the backs of six frisky driving-mules. + +Lizard Dan, Hurley told the Easterners, had gained his nickname when he +was a pocket-hunter in a now far-distant day. He had been lost in the +desert at one time and swore when he came out that he had existed by +eating _Crotaphytus Wislizeni_ roasted over a fire of dry cacti--the +succulence of which saurian is much doubted by the Western white man, +although it is a small brother of the South American iguana, there +considered a delicacy. + +However, Dan acquired a nickname and such a fear of the desert thereby +that he became the one known specimen of the completely cured desert +rat. He never went prospecting again, but instead drove the stage +between Crescent City and Canyon Pass. + +"The boys expecting us at the Pass to-day, Dan?" Joe Hurley had asked +early in the journey. + +"Youbetcha!" + +"Got your gun loaded?" + +Dan kicked the heavy double-barreled shotgun at his feet and replied +again: + +"Youbetcha!" + +"Do--do wild animals infest the road?" Betty had asked stammeringly. + +"Not much," said Hurley. "But Dan carries a heap of registered mail in +which wild men, rather than wild animals, might be interested." + +"Youbetcha!" agreed Dan. + +Hurley glanced sideways at Betty's face, caught its expression, and +exploded into laughter. + +"You've come to 'Youbetcha Land,' Miss Betty," he said, when he could +speak again. + +"He is a character," chuckled Hunt on her other side. + +The suggestion of highwaymen stuck in the girl's mind. She looked from +Lizard Dan's weapon to the ivory butt of the heavy revolver pouched at +Joe Hurley's waist. These weapons could not be worn exactly for show--an +exhibition of the vanity of rather uncouth minds. It fretted her though +without frightening her, this phase of Western life. It was not the +possibility of gun-fights and brawls and the offices of Judge Lynch that +made Betty Hunt shrink from contact with this country and its people. + +The stagecoach mounted out of the valley--which might, Hunt said, have +been fittingly described by Ezekiel--and followed a winding trail through +the minor range of hills that divided Crescent City and its purlieus +from the Canyon Pass country. The coach pitched and rocked as though it +was a sea-going hack. + +In time they crossed the small divide and came down the watershed into +the valley of the East Fork. + +Borne to their ears on the breeze at last, through the sound of the +rumbling coach-wheels and the rattling trace-chains, was another noise. +A throbbing rhythm of sound with the dull swish of intermittent streams +of water. + +"The hydraulic pumps at the Eureka Washings," explained Hurley. "We'll +be in sight of them--and of Canyon Pass--before very long." + +The stagecoach lurched around a corner, and the raw, red bench of the +riverbank came into view. Steam pumps were noisily at work and men were +busy at the sluices into which the gold-bearing earth and gravel were +washed down from the high bank. + +Three great, brass-nozzled hydraulic "guns" were at work--each machine +straddled by a man in oil-skins and hip boots, who manipulated the heavy +stream of water that ate into the bank and crumbled it in sections. + +At the moment of their sighting the hydraulic washings across the river, +there was raised a wild, concerted shout from a point ahead. Out of a +hidden cove galloped a cavalcade of a dozen or more mounted men, who +swept up the road to meet the coach. + +For an instant Betty thought of the shotgun at Dan's feet and of +highwaymen. These coming riders waved guns and yelled like wild Indians. +But she saw a broad grin on Joe Hurley's face. + +"Here come some of the Great Hope boys," he explained. "Their idea of +'welcome to our city' may be a little noisy, but they mean you well, +Hunt." + +They came "a-shootin'," and Lizard Dan threw the long lash of his whip +over the backs of his six mules to force them through the cavalcade on +the gallop. + +Firing their guns and yelling, the riders on their wiry ponies +surrounding the coach as its escort, pounded down to the ford. Their +hullabaloo announced far in advance the approach of the coach to Canyon +Pass. + +In all its ugliness the mining camp was revealed. The gaze of the +Easterners was focused on its unpainted shacks and rutted streets. They +saw men, women, children, and a multitude of dogs running from all +points toward the main thoroughfare of the town. + +It was like a picture--not like anything real. Betty's dazed mind could +not accept this nightmare of a place as actually being the town to which +fate--and her brother's obstinacy--had brought them. Given an opportunity +right then, the girl would have failed her brother! She was in a mood to +desert him and return East as fast as she could travel. + +Joe Hurley grinned at her. She had begun almost to hate those twinkling +brown eyes of his with the golden sparks in them. He seemed to know just +what her feelings were and to enjoy her horror of the crudity which +assailed her on every hand. To her mind, Hurley was worse than his +associates, for he had enjoyed the advantages of some culture. + +The mules dashed into the shallows. Spray flew as high as the roof of +the coach. The mules settled into a heavier pace as they dragged the +vehicle up the farther bank and into the foot of Main Street. + +The crowd--a couple of hundred people of all ages--had gathered before the +Wild Rose Hotel. This stood opposite the bank and farther along the +street than the Three Star Grocery and Boss Tolley's Grub Stake. The +mules picked up their heels again under the cracking of Lizard Dan's +whiplash, and cantered up to the chief hostelry of Canyon Pass. The +yelling crew of horsemen--a bizarre committee of welcome indeed--rode +ahead, punctuating their vociferous clamor by an occasional pistol-shot. + +Betty caught sight of her brother's face. It was as broadly smiling as +was that of Joe Hurley! Actually Ford was enjoying this awful +experience. + +The moment Dan drew the mules to a halt, Hurley was half way to the +ground and turned on the step to help Betty down. She glanced timidly at +Hunt again. He was preparing to descend on the other side of the coach, +leaving her entirely to Hurley's care. + +Then occurred that incident which would ever be engraved upon Betty's +memory, and which marked indeed the coming of the Reverend Willett Ford +Hunt to Canyon Pass on the archives of the town's history in letters +that never would be effaced. + +As Hunt started to descend from the roof of the coach there sounded a +single pistol-shot and the hat he wore--a low-crowned affair, the single +mark of the cleric in his dress--sailed into the air with a ragged hole +through brim and crown. + +As the hat flew upward a fusillade of five more shots followed the +first, and the hat was torn to rags as it sailed over the roof of the +coach. The crowd roared--some in anger, but most in derision. The man +standing by the door of the Grub Stake reloaded his gun before putting +it away, grinning broadly. + +Hunt was startled; but his own smile did not fade. What was it Joe had +impressed so emphatically upon his mind? + +"It's the first impression that counts with Canyon Pass folks. Give 'em +the chance, and they'll laugh you out of town. And remember, they are +bound to judge you, Hunt, by their own standards." + +The young minister felt that the occasion was momentous. His usefulness +here in Canyon Pass might depend upon his action or comment in this +emergency. + +His nerves were perfectly steady. How was his _nerve_? He knew the man +who had shot the hat from his head was such a good shot that he had been +in no danger at all. + +But Hunt felt that something more was expected of him than the mere +ignoring of a rude and offensive act. He started across the road toward +the gunman. Those who stood in the way opened a lane for him with some +alacrity. The smiles upon the faces of those who moved stiffened. +Something extraordinary, something they had not at all expected, was +about to happen. + +Hicks, slouching against the front of the Grub Stake, came to sudden +attention. His fingers crooked, creeping toward the butt of his gun +again. Every atom of the ruffian's courage--such as it was--lay in that +weapon. Without it--and its leaden death--he was a sheep for bravery! + +Smiling still Hunt reached him. The parson's steady gaze held that of +Hicks as the human eye is said to hypnotize the gaze of all wild beasts. +Hicks, however, was not wild. Not now. Not so you could notice it! + +"Brother," Hunt said cheerfully, "you've spoiled my hat. It's the only +hat I've got with me until my trunks come in by freight. You've had your +fun, and it's only fair you should pay for it." + +The expression of Hicks' face sunk into a sneer. He thought the +white-livered parson was trying to get money from him for the hat. He +must indeed be a "softie." + +Then Hunt's hands moved suddenly, swiftly. In a flash he had snatched +the broad-brimmed hat from Hicks' head and placed it on his own, + +"Turn about is fair play, don't you think?" said the parson, and without +waiting for a reply he turned on his heel and went back across the +street! + +The silence that had fallen on the crowd had been of that tense, +strained quality that portended tragedy. Had Hunt showed offense at the +trick played upon him and struck Hicks, the latter would have used his +gun without mercy. And scarcely could a jury have been impaneled in +Canyon Pass that would have convicted the ruffian. + +But of a sudden, a roar of laughter rose from the crowd. They rocked +with it, beating their knees, holding their sides, laughing with +wide-open mouths and streaming eyes. Nor was the comical appearance of +Hicks' dilapidated hat crowning the parson's otherwise impeccable outfit +all that spurred Canyon Pass to such wild cachinnation. + +The strident laughter was aimed at the chagrined gunman. Hicks knew it. +The broad back of the parson offered a sure target; but he knew better +than to draw his gun a second time. Instead he turned away, hatless, and +sought sanctuary in the Grub Stake. + +Hunt had taken the first trick in this game he had "set into." And +Canyon Pass to a man admired a shrewd gambler. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII--A FLOWER IN THE MIRE + + +Had Betty Hunt not had Joe Hurley to steady her as she came down from +the roof of the stagecoach to the ground in the midst of the crowd, she +never could have stood upright through that scene! The sight of her +brother's hat flying overhead, the target of Hicks' six-gun, led her to +believe that Hunt was in peril--deadly peril. + +She wanted to beg Hurley to run to her brother's rescue, but her tongue +clove to the roof of her mouth. What followed utterly appalled her. She +verily believed that Hunt took his life in his hands when he approached +and browbeat the bad man! + +But as she heard the boisterous laughter of the crowd and saw the +strange hat flapping about the Reverend Willett Ford Hunt's ears, Betty +became suddenly angry. + +"Take off that horrid hat, Ford!" she cried when the parson joined them. +"I beg of you, take it off at once." + +"Don't do it, Willie," interposed Hurley. "Let it be. No crown of glory +you may earn will ever so become you. Continue to wear it, Reverend, and +not a soul in Canyon Pass will ever laugh at _you_, if they do at the +hat. It will remind 'em that you're an honest-to-goodness he-man." + +Hunt smiled deprecatingly. "You make too much of it, Joe. Don't worry, +Betty, about the hat. I might as well keep the joke up a little while." + +"'Joke!'" she groaned. + +Hurley slapped Hunt resoundingly on the shoulder. "You're all right, +Willie!" + +This turned Betty against him all the more. It was so uncouth she +thought on Hurley's part and so undignified on her brother's. With all +these people looking on, grinning and gaping, was that the way to gain +respect for a clergyman and for his work? + +"Well, let's go into the Wild Rose and get you settled," Hurley said +with that cordiality that did much, after all, to disarm Betty's +criticism. "I told 'Cholo' Sam and Maria to clean up some rooms for you +and try and make things halfway decent. But I don't know. This isn't +like the hotel at Crescent City." + +The statement was not conducive to Betty's peace of mind. The sordidness +and squalor of Canyon Pass was being from moment to moment etched more +deeply on her brain. They mounted the steps of unplaned boards and +crossed the porch that shook even under Betty's light tread. Unpainted +walls, uncarpeted stairs, and not altogether clean floors met her gaze +as they entered the hostelry. + +If Hunt was appalled by the rudeness of their surroundings he very +successfully hid his real feelings. He had spent vacations in the +hunting and fishing camps of Maine and Quebec. The lack of even the +ordinary conveniences of civilized life could not in any case trouble +him as it did his gently nurtured sister. + +He did, however, on this first evening arrange to have their supper +served in Betty's room, rather than forcing her to eat in the general +dining-room of the hotel. But he explained that they could not thus +segregate themselves in the future. + +"It wouldn't do, Betty. I must mix with these people--show myself willing +to be one of them in ordinary ways. Respect for the cloth cannot be won +among these open-hearted folk by finnicky manners. I must be one of +them. I must show them that I am a man as well as a preacher." + +She could not agree; but at least she was wise enough not to oppose--at +this time--his evident acceptance of Joe Hurley's advice. She saw in the +latter more clearly than ever a dangerous ally for her brother. + +Hunt's abundant cheerfulness--even over the coarse supper-fare and the +absence of napkins--closed his sister's lips even more firmly. The two +had come to Canyon Pass with diametrically opposed mental attitudes. +Hunt was prepared to accept things as they should find them, but nothing +in Canyon Pass, or about it or its inhabitants, could please Betty. + +As darkness fell the town grew noisier, for it was a Saturday night. +Betty, looking from her window, saw only flaring oil lamps and gasoline +torches illuminating the street. The men who passed up and down were +much rougher in appearance and of tongue than those she had watched +under similar circumstances in Crescent City. There were almost no women +in sight. + +Men spoke harshly, or shouted ribaldries to one another. Indeed, the +girl from the East scarcely understood the language they used. Miserably +she crept to bed. She had locked her door after her brother left her, +and she even dragged the pine washstand against it as a barricade. + +The Wild Rose Hotel itself was no quiet abode on this night. There was a +bar, and although it was at the other end of the house, the noise of the +shouting, the rude songs, the stamping and quarreling therein made Betty +shake in her bed until long after midnight. She had no idea that her +brother went to bed, fell asleep in a minute, and slept as peacefully as +a baby until almost sunrise. + +A Sabbath dawn could be as calm at Canyon Pass as at Ditson Corners. The +pearl-gray light of the new day washed the sleep from the Reverend +Willett Ford Hunt's eyes. He arose to lean on his elbow and gaze through +a window that, curtainless, looked out on Mulligan Lane. There were some +frowsy buildings within sight--evidently dwellings of a kind--but the +parson lifted his eyes to the hills feeling with the psalmist that +"whence cometh my strength." + +They stood--those hills--in serrated ranks from the far east to the point +where the sudden uplift of the canyon wall on that side of the river +closed the outlook. Even Old Graylock of his familiar Berkshires had not +the magnificence of these peaks. He was impressed again as he already +had been with the difference merely in size between these western hills +and the Berkshires, let alone the vast dissimilarity in their contour. + +The eminences of western Massachusetts for the most part slope away into +wooded and pastured ridges, which themselves melt into the lush +lowlands. Their crowns do not seem so imposing as these western peaks +because of their configuration. + +His window was open. Suddenly he became aware of voices below it at the +back of the hotel. + +Something was going on there--something that revealed the dregs of life +to be as mean and offensive here in Canyon Pass as they could be in any +place in the whole world. He heard the maundering tones of an +intoxicated man and--sharply contrasted--the voice of a woman. + +"Get up, Sam, and come home." + +"Hic! Won't go home till mawnin'--till mawnin'--hic--doth 'pear." + +"Well, morning's appearing all right, and it'll catch you here, +wallerin' like a hog in the lane. Come home with me." + +"No. I'm a man. I'm--hic!--independent, I am. I'll go hu-hu-home jest +whenever I please." + +"Now's the time to please me, Sam. Get up and come along." + +"Couldn't do it, gal. Couldn't think--hic!--of it. 'Twould be givin' up my +indepen--dic!--dence. I'm--I'm my own master. Leastways, I am on Sunday +when the mine's shut down. Here I stand----" + +"But you don't stand!" ejaculated the woman's voice sharply. "And I +don't believe you can." + +The inebriated man gave no heed to this challenge. "Here I stand," he +repeated. "'On Jordan's bank I take my stand, and cast a--hic!--cast a +wishtful eye'----" + +"More'n likely you'll cast a shoe and won't get home at all, if I can't +start you," complained the woman's voice. + +Hunt had risen and was scrambling into the more necessary articles of +his apparel. He went to the window and looked down into the lane. + +There was an overturned box just below the window and slouched down upon +it was a withered, baldheaded man whose frayed whiskers and untrimmed +hair made him look a deal like an inebriated monkey. There was nothing +humorous looking in this specimen of fallen humanity to the mind of the +parson. He could only pity his case. + +But it must be confessed the other person engaged in the colloquy gained +Hunt's interest and held it at once. + +She was small, lissome, of a vigorous figure and vastly more attractive +to his eye than any girl he had ever looked at. Indeed, he was amazed to +see such a really beautiful creature in such squalid surroundings. + +"Get up and come home with me," said the girl again. "What will Mother +Tubbs say when she sees you?" + +"Heh? I reckon I better stay yere," was the reply. "Man can't keep +his--hic!--dignity when a great walrus of a woman throws him 'round like +he was a sack of spuds. I tell you, gal, I made a great mistake in +marryin' that woman." + +"It was a great mistake for her--that's a fact," was the sharp rejoinder. +"You got so many failings I don't see how Mother Tubbs remembers 'em all +when she prays for you. Ugh! You men! There ain't a one of you I'd give +a hoot in a rain-water barrel for. Get up!" + +The girl again tried to drag him to his feet. Sam Tubbs merely fell over +sideways and sprawled helpless upon the ground. + +Hunt, without his coat or vest, but grabbing up the flap-brimmed hat he +had secured from the gunman the evening before, opened his door, ran +down the back stairway of the hotel, and made his way quickly into the +lane. As he appeared before Nell Blossom, standing over the now +slumbering drunkard, he looked anything but the cleric. + +"Can I be of help?" he asked. + +"You can't help me none, mister," replied Nell brusquely. + +"I scarcely think you need help," said Hunt, smiling. "But this +unfortunate----" + +"'Unfortunate' is right!" repeated the girl. "Sam Tubbs is so +unfortunate that it would be money right now in his pocket if he'd never +been born. If I leave him here some of those cheap hangers-on of the +Grub Stake or Colorado's place will roll him for all he has in his +jeans. And Mother Tubbs needs what he's got left of his pay--believe me!" + +"Where does he live?" + +"Where I do. Down the lane a ways." + +"I think we can get him there," said Hunt, and without further ado he +stooped, got a grip on Sam Tubbs, and proceeded to throw him over his +shoulder like a sack of meal. + +The girl's eyes grew round. For the first time she expressed some +appreciation--perhaps a little admiration--for his friendliness. + +"You wasn't behind the door when they were passing out muscle," she +remarked. "Well, come on. I'll show you the way." + +The now slumbering Sam Tubbs was scarcely a heavy burden, and to Hunt +the task of carrying him was slight. He was considerably amused as well +as interested in the girl. It was quite apparent that she did not know +he was the new parson. Evidently she had not been in the crowd the day +before that had welcomed the coming of the tenderfoot preacher and his +sister to Canyon Pass. + +Hunt was studying her face now with more than amusement, although her +bluff manner of speech and utterly independent air made Nell Blossom a +revelation of a new phase of femininity to him. Her speech, in the first +place, did not accord with her beauty, nor, indeed, with the natural +refinement expressed in her countenance. + +She certainly was a lovely girl! In the early morning light her light +brown hair seemed threaded all through the mass of it with strands of +gold. Her eyes were the blue of a mountain lake--but with ice in their +depths. Their gaze, as it was turned on Hunt, was utterly impersonal. + +Her peachy complexion as well, offset by dark brows and red lips, +aroused Hunt's admiration for its sheer beauty. Brown-gold hair, blue +eyes, petite and lissome figure--when had such description of a girl +caught in the cogs of his memory? Somewhere lately he had seen, or heard +described, such a sprite of a girl as this. + +She was dressed plainly enough in serviceable corduroy--short skirt, +blouse, broad-brimmed hat, high laced boots. A crimson scarf was knotted +under the collar of her blouse. She wore no ornament. + +Nell did not say much during that brief walk. Not that she was at all +timid or bashful; but she seemed to feel no particular interest in this +young man who had put himself out to help Sam Tubbs. + +For her own part she considered Sam a nuisance. She had no use for the +old reprobate. It was solely for Mother Tubbs' sake that she had +bothered herself with regard to Sam. Finding him drunk--as usual--on her +way home from Colorado Brown's place early on this Sunday morning, she +had tried to get him home without realizing at first that Sam was quite +so far gone in liquor as he was. + +As for this man who walked by her side, carrying so easily the +insensible Sam, Nell did not question who he was. That he was a +stranger--possibly a traveling salesman, or "drummer"--perhaps a mining +man, she believed, if she thought of him at all. As Hunt suspected, she +did not for a moment identify him as the parson Joe Hurley had brought +to Canyon Pass. In any event she could not have imagined the Reverend +Willett Ford Hunt as this sort of person. + +They turned abruptly into another narrow alley and came to the front of +the Tubbs' shack. The yard, fenced by pickets of barrel-staves, was +neatly kept and there was an attempt at a flower bed on either side of +the walk. Mother Tubbs usually punished Sam for his sin of drunkenness, +after he had slept off his potations, by making him weed the tiny +gardens and rake the path. These penitential activities kept the Tubbs +premises spick and span. + +Nell led the way imperturbably around to the back door of the shack. +This door was open and a thin blue haze--odorous and appetizing--floated +out of the kitchen. + +"Just getting a nice breakfast for you, honey," said Mother Tubbs, +filling the doorway and seeing Nell first of all. "Now, if only Sam +would come along--Is _that_ Sam? He ain't dead, is he?" + +"Only dead drunk," said Nell in scorn. + +"Where shall I put him?" asked Hunt quietly. + +"Well, I reckon it don't much matter. You can drop him down anywhere, +mister. I'll fetch a dish-pan o' water and sluice him down when I get a +chance. But I can't let them cakes sp'ile." Then she saw and recognized +the parson's face, for Mother Tubbs had been at the Wild Rose Hotel the +day before when the stagecoach had arrived. "Goodness me! I declared, +Mister--er--Brother Hunt, this _is_ good of ye." + +Nell stared. The note of respect in Mother Tubbs' voice revealed in a +flash Hunt's identity to the cabaret singer. + +"I am sartain sure obliged to you," went on the old woman. "Nell Blossom +never could have got him home alone." Hunt had lowered her husband to a +seat on the porch floor and propped his back against a post. "Sleeping +like a baby, ain't he? Well, he can stay thataway till after Nell has +her breakfast." + +Hunt was not giving her his attention. The name "Nell Blossom" had +revealed to him instantly the familiarity of the girl's description. +This was the golden-haired, blue-eyed, high-spirited beauty Joe Hurley +had written about--the girl who could really sing. + +They stared at each other while the old woman went back to her cakes. +Nell was obviously shifting the gears of her opinion about this +stranger. He, a parson? No lunger, this husky six-footer! + +"Mebbe you ain't acquainted," Mother Tubbs said, bustling back from the +stove. "Nell Blossom is a-living with me and has been doing so--off and +on--for more than three years. Ever since her pa, old Henry Blossom, up +and died. She's a singer, Nell is--the sweetest you ever heard, Brother +Hunt. I'm hoping, when you get to holding meetings, that we can get her +to sing in the choir." + +Hunt bowed, smiling, to the girl. Her expression of countenance was no +less forbidding than before. She offered him no encouragement. + +"Won't you stop for breakfast with me and Nell, Brother Hunt?" went on +the hospitable old woman. "I always try to have something hot and tasty +for Nell when she comes home after her night's work." + +Nell started--was it angrily? She opened her lips to speak, then shut +them in a straight, red line. In any case, Hunt caught the significance +of her attitude of objection, had he been tempted to accept the old +woman's hearty invitation. + +"Not this morning, Mrs.--er--Tubbs, is it? Sister Tubbs? I am glad to have +met you." He met her huge hand with a warm clasp of his own. "When we +get started here, I am sure I can depend on your aid and good wishes?" + +"Youbetcha!" exclaimed the old woman. "And you'll see me in one of the +front seats--mebbe in two of 'em if they ain't bigger than usual," she +added with twinkling eyes. + +He laughed boyishly, lifting the dilapidated old hat to both Mother +Tubbs and the girl as he turned the corner of the shack. The old woman +looked down admonishingly at Nell Blossom. + +"You weren't a mite perlite to the minister, Nell," she complained. + + + + +CHAPTER IX--A BEGINNING + + +That eastern mountain range was all etched with rose color now as Hunt +went back to the hotel. But the town had scarcely quieted after its +night's revelry. Inebriates were still dribbling along the streets from +the all-night places. + +He thought of Nell Blossom. She certainly was a flower in the mire of +Canyon Pass. Joe Hurley had written none too enthusiastically about the +girl, as far as concerned her beauty. And although Hunt was by no means +given to impulsive judgments, he knew there was a refined atmosphere +about the girl despite her gruff independence of manner and speech. + +His return to the hotel was unheralded save by the cheerful grin of +Cholo Sam, the Mexican proprietor of the hostelry, who was sluicing out +the barroom. + +"Some morning, thees, Senor Hunt." He flashed a tentative, toothful +smile toward the array of bottles behind his bar. "Weel you have one +leetle drink, Senor? A 'pick-my-up,' you call eet, eh?" + +"Coffee, Sam," replied Hunt briskly, acknowledging the offer in the +spirit it was meant. "Coffee only--and perhaps a bit of bread with it. +Service for two, please. My sister will want some. Will you bring it +up?" + +"But surely, senor." He hesitated. "Ees eet the truth that the senor ees +a meenister--the padre? Si?" + +"Quite true, Sam. That is my business--my trade. And I have come here to +Canyon Pass hoping to exercise it." + +Hunt mounted to his room to find that Betty was already astir. She had +been into his room during his absence. One of the bags he had brought +upon the stagecoach had been opened and across the foot of the bed was +carefully laid his ordinary Sunday garments--frock-coat, high-cut +waistcoat, and narrow trousers of dead black sheen. + +With the outer garments was the stiff-bosomed white shirt--"boiled" Joe +Hurley would have designated its variety--the silk socks, with a pair of +low, gun-metal kid shoes set primly on the floor under the edge of the +bed. + +Ford Hunt looked at all these once--then again. He thought of what he had +been doing already on this Sunday morning. Then he burst into loud +laughter. + +Sunday afternoon when the weather was propitious was the time for social +intercourse in Canyon Pass. Those who had worked or played or had been +intoxicated the night before had slept off the effects of their +super-exertions for the most part. They came forth now shaved and in +clean garments and strolled to Main Street. + +It was still too early for the cabarets and gambling places to be open, +and even the saloon bars were somnolent save for the flies buzzing about +them or drunkenly crawling in the spilled beer. The pivotal point of the +town's rendezvous and gossip on Sunday afternoon was the Three Star +Grocery. In front of that old Bill Judson held forth between his +exertions of waiting on such customers as might claim his attention. + +"Dad burn it!" ejaculated Judson. "I bet Tom Hicks has crawled into his +hole and pulled the hole in after him. I should want to if I was him. +And you take it from me, boys, a parson that can do that to a bad actor +like Tom Hicks will make Canyon Pass sit up and take notice before he's +through." + +"It showed sand, I allow," agreed one of his hearers judiciously. "But +it's r'iled Boss Tolley all up and he swears the parson sha'n't stay." + +"You don't say!" drawled Judson sarcastically. "And who ever elected +Tolley to be boss of the Pass? If for no other reason, I'm strong for +this yere Reverend Hunt." + +"As a man--a reg'lar he-man--I'm for him, too," agreed another. "But I'm +thinkin' we can get along yere at Canyon Pass without much psalm-singing +and preaching." + +"Yeppy. You're right," declared a third of Judson's hearers. + +"Let alone that you're all wrong," put in Judson again with energy, +"let's look at the thing in a practical way, as the feller said. If a +man come in yere and opened a shoe shop or a candy pop or wanted to sell +shoestrings, we'd give him the glad hand, wouldn't we? 'Live and let +live,' has always been the motto of Canyon Pass, ain't it?" + +"What's that got to do with it, Bill?" + +"Why, you big gump! Ain't this parson got something to peddle? His stock +in trade is religion, and he's got just as much right to show goods and +try to drum up trade as the next one, ain't he? He's entitled to a fair +deal. And Boss Tolley, Tom Hicks, and them other highbinders can sulk in +their dens and suck their paws. I ain't never gone ironed since I opened +this shack, nigh thirty years ago. But I'll sling a gun on my hip and +act as bodyguard if it's necessary for any feller that ain't getting a +fair deal in this town. That's gospel!" + +"I never knowed ye was so all-fired religious, Bill," complained one of +his surprised hearers. + +"Religious!" retorted the storekeeper. "It ain't that I'm religious--not +so's you'd notice it. But I got a sense of fair play,--dad burn it! Here +comes the parson now, boys." + +Hunt and Joe Hurley came out of the Wild Rose Hotel. The minister had +not donned his clerical garments. He was dressed as he had been the day +before when he arrived on the stagecoach, except for the hat he wore. +That flopping-brimmed headgear which he had taken from Tom Hicks crowned +the parson's brush of crisp, dark hair. + +"Boys," said Hurley, when they came near, "meet Willie Hunt. He's one of +the best old scouts I met when I was East, that time I stood that +college on its head, like I told you. I reckon you know Willie is a real +man, if he _is_ a parson. Mr. Hunt, meet Jib Collins, Cale Mack, Jim +Tierney, and--last but not least--Bill Judson, who is the honored mentor +of this camp." + +"Whatever that is," and the storekeeper grinned, shaking hands in turn +with Hunt. "This yere Joe Hurley slings language at times that sartainly +stops traffic. He can't seem to get over it. It was wished on him when +he lived East that time he is always telling us about." + +Hunt knew how to meet these men--he was by nature a "good mixer." There +is much in the grasp of a hand, a steady look, an unafraid smile, that +recommends the stranger to such bold spirits. The timid, even the +hesitant, make no progress with them. + +"Parson," pursued Judson, "we was just discussin' your business as you +and Joe come along. In my opinion we need you yere at Canyon Pass. I'm +speakin' for myself alone," and he glared at the other men in the group +accusingly; "but I can't put it too strong. We need ye. To my mind +religion is a mighty good thing. We're loose livin', we're loose +talkin', and we need to be jacked up right smart. + +"You can count on me, parson, to back any play you make, clean across +the board. I'm for you, strong. We need meetin's started. We ought to +have a Sunday school for the young 'uns. We need to be preached at and +prayed with. I come of right strict Presbyterian stock, and when I was a +lad I was used to all the means of grace, I was." + +"You are interested, then, Mr. Judson, in any attempt we may make to +inaugurate services here on Sunday?" Hunt asked cheerfully. + +"Youbetcha!" was the hearty rejoinder. + +"Of course, Mr. Judson," Hunt pursued, "you understand that, to have +successful and helpful services, some of us at least must have the +spirit of service?" + +"Sure. That's what I tell 'em." + +"I take it from brief observation that this day--the Sabbath--is observed +very little at present in Canyon Pass?" + +"True as true," said the storekeeper. + +"To get people really interested in divine services on this day, don't +you think we should begin by making some difference--a real +difference--between the First Day and the other six?" Hunt continued, +eyeing Judson reflectively. "If we who are interested in the betterment +of the community are not willing to lead in this matter, those we wish +to help can scarcely follow. + +"Sunday should not be like the other six days of the week. Your mines +and gold washings shut down on this day. How about other secular +activities ceasing--as far as it may be possible?" + +"I--I reckon you're right, parson," Judson said, though with some +hesitation. "Of course, the boys have been used to having their freedom +on Sundays, and their fun. I don't believe you could go far in shutting +down the saloons and gambling tables--not right at first." + +"But would you go as far as you could personally to establish a better +standard of Sunday observance?" pursued Hunt. + +"Heh?" ejaculated the puzzled Judson. + +Hunt, still smiling, mounted the steps of the store, closed the door, +and turned the great key which had been left in the outside of the lock. +He removed the key and handed it to Bill Judson as he came down the +steps again. + +"Mr. Judson," he said in a perfectly unmoved voice, "if you will begin +by keeping that door locked on Sundays you will be leading the way in +this community toward a proper observance of the Lord's Day." + +Joe Hurley was on the point of bursting out laughing. But he thought +better of joining Collins, Mack, and Tierney in wild expressions of joy +at the old man's discomfiture. + +Judson's face turned from its usual weather-beaten tan to a purple-red. +His rheumy eyes sparked. Then slowly, reflectively, a grin wreathed his +tobacco-stained lips and crinkled the outer corners of his eyelids. + +"Parson," he said, thrusting out his hand again, "you're on! I'll show +these fellers I'm a good sport. Nobody was ever able to say honestly +that Bill Judson took water; and I won't give 'em the chance't to say it +now." + + + + +CHAPTER X--MUTTERINGS OF A STORM + + +It was Joe Hurley who saw Betty appear on the porch of the hotel. +Perhaps his gaze had been fixed in that direction for that very purpose. +It was a vision to draw the eyes of any man hungry for a picture of a +well-dressed and modest young woman. Betty Hunt was like nothing that +had ever before stepped out upon the Main Street of Canyon Pass. + +"Come on, Willie," urged Hurley, seizing the minister's sleeve. "You've +jarred Judson clean to bedrock. Spare him any more for now. Come on. +Your sister is waiting for us to take her to the Great Hope." + +Betty was not gaily appareled. Her frock was black and white, and so was +her hat. She still remembered Aunt Prudence's death--and that she was a +parson's sister! But it was the way the frock was made, and how it and +the hat became her that marked Betty as an object of approval, to the +male Passonians at least. + +"Such a beautiful day, Mr. Hurley," Betty ventured. "One might think it +a respectable country town if only one could forget last night." + +She stared at Hurley with accusation. He dropped his head sheepishly. +Somehow Betty Hunt put the matter as though it were his fault! + +"We're going to change all that in time," said Hunt cheerfully. "These +people are not so bad, Betty----" + +"That they couldn't be worse? Yes, I know," retorted his sister. + +"Why, Betty!" murmured Hunt, "isn't that a bit uncharitable?" + +"I have no thought for charity in a place like this," declared the girl. +"Such dirt, vileness and disorder I never dreamed of! These people are +not even human! I cannot excuse them. No branch of the human family +could possibly be ignorant enough for us to excuse what I have already +seen about me in Canyon Pass." + +"Great saltpeter!" murmured Hurley. + +"You did not tell my brother the half of it!" she cried, flaring at the +mining man. "You hid the worst. You only said things in your letters +that you knew would attract him here." + +Joe Hurley started back a step. If a kitten he had stooped to pet had +suddenly turned and gouged him with its claws he could have been no more +startled. + +But Betty Hunt proved herself no kitten. She was usually a very +self-contained and quite unexcited young woman. It was only for a minute +that she allowed her anger to flame out. + +"Now, that's enough about that," she pursued, still with a frown. "The +thing is done. We are here. I do not believe that Ford will ever be +happy in Canyon Pass; and I know I shall not." + +"Better not speak so positively, Bet," said Hunt coolly. A brother +seldom is much impressed by his sister's little ruffles of temper. "You +may have to change your opinion. My belief is that none of us can find +happiness in a new environment. We must take the happiness with us to +any new abode." + +Hurley was much subdued during their walk through the town. His +knowledge of girls like Betty was very slight. He had never had a sister +and he could not remember his mother. + +Even girls like Nell Blossom had not been frequent events in the mining +man's life. His two years spent in the East had been almost as barren of +feminine society as his years in the West. + +Now, it must be confessed, Betty Hunt had "got him going," to quote his +own thought in the matter. Not that Hurley was of a fickle temperament. +But he was not a man to eat his heart out in an utterly impossible +cause. + +Nell had shown him plainly that she had no use for him save as an +acquaintance. He could not even count himself her friend now, for since +her return from Hoskins she had seemed more remote from the men of +Canyon Pass than ever before. + +So, Joe Hurley had already put Nell out of his mind in that way before +Betty Hunt had appeared on the scene. And, it seemed, he was fated to be +attracted by a distant star. The minister's sister was distinctly of +another world--and a world far, far above that of Canyon Pass, Hurley +told himself. + +It was not Betty's finnicky ways, as her brother bluntly called them, +that held the girl from the East so dear in Joe's eyes. It was in spite +of her disapproval of Canyon Pass and all that lay therein. The mining +man was deeply interested in the development of the camp. He had done +much in a business way to improve conditions here. He hoped to do more. + +He had quite realized that the place needed something besides modern +business methods to raise it out of the slough in which it wallowed as a +community. This realization, shared with such people as Bill Judson and +old Mother Tubbs, had led Hurley to interest the Reverend Willett Ford +Hunt in Canyon Pass. He foresaw the camp in time as well governed a +place as Crescent City. + +Betty's scorn and vituperation regarding the shortcomings of the Pass +actually pained Hurley. Was it so bad as she seemed to think it was? +This girl from the East was very positive in her dislike for the place +and its people. + +Then he looked over her head at the quietly smiling face of Hunt. He did +not seem to share his sister's opinion that the Pass was beyond +redemption. There was, after all, a quality of sanity and stability +about Hunt that bolstered Hurley's hope. + +"That boy is all right," thought Hurley finally. "He sees things with a +clear eye. And our crudeness doesn't scare him. His sister----Well! what +could you expect of a pretty, fluffy little thing like her? This place +is bound to look rotten to her at the first. But at that, she may change +her opinion." + +In fact, Joe Hurley had determination enough to believe that he was just +the chap who could change these opinions of Betty Hunt! His non-success +with Nell Blossom had not convinced him that he would never be able to +attract other girls. + +Right at the start Joe had been enamored of the fragile beauty of the +parson's sister. Hers was not the robust, if petite, prettiness of Nell +Blossom. It was a beauty of spirit and character that looked out of +Betty's gray eyes. Her very calmness and primness intrigued the mining +man. + +Opposite is attracted by opposite. Because he was so open and hearty +himself, Hurley admired the daintiness and delicacy of Betty. Her +primness, even her shrinking from the things to which he was so used in +and about Canyon Pass, pleased the young man in a way. + +Here was just the sort of girl he desired to establish in his home--a +real home--when he got one. Joe Hurley did not propose to live in a +bachelor shack in the purlieus of Canyon Pass all his life--by no means! +He was getting on. The Great Hope was panning out well. It had every +promise of being a big thing in time. He was going to be rich. Betty +Hunt would grace the head of the table of a millionaire--wear the clothes +a prince might buy for his wife--hold the respect and admiration that the +highest lady in the land might claim. + +"I've got to have that girl," thought Hurley. "And I'm going after her!" + +They climbed the steep road of rolled rock to the highland overlooking +the town and giving them a view to the first turn of the canyon bed of +Runaway River. When the squalid sight of Canyon Pass could be shut out +of the mind, even Betty admitted that the dimming light in the canyon +lent a fairylike charm to all its ruggedness. It was a slot made by +giants in the hills without doubt. She expressed a desire to see more of +it. + +"I'll get you a good cayuse," said Hurley eagerly. "Got any riding duds +with you?" + +"I have my habit in one of my trunks." + +The Westerner looked at her doubtfully. "Don't know about long skirts +flapping around the legs of these Western critters----" + +"Habits are not made with skirts nowadays, Mr. Hurley," Betty +interrupted coldly. "Fashion--even in the Fenway--demands that the +feminine riding suit shall be mannish." + +"Oh! If you ride astraddle," replied Hurley, without realizing that his +phrase shocked her, "we can find you a horse that will fill the bill. +I've got one that I ride myself, and I can pick up one for Willie." + +"Most agreeable to me, I'm sure," agreed the parson. "I can ride after a +fashion. Bet got her training at boarding school. If Aunt Prudence knew +all her niece got at that institution the dear old lady would have been +shocked." + +Betty did not smile. There were things that had happened to her at +boarding school that Ford knew nothing about. His words aroused in her +mind the carking memory of the secret that had changed Betty Hunt's life +completely--the secret that had killed all the sparkle and winsome +lightness in the girl's nature. She became silent and after that only +listened to the talk of the two young men. + +Not that she was not interested as they went on and Hurley pointed out +the several claims being worked with the most modern methods of the +Oreode Company, and the Nufall Syndicate, and by himself and his +associates at the Great Hope. This mining business was all new to the +girl, and she had an inquiring mind. She did not shrink at all, when +Hurley suggested a descent into the shaft and produced slickers and +rubber boots and tarpaulins to put on over their clothes. + +The man in charge let them down in the bucket, and a gasoline torch +showed them all that there was to see under the surface. Hurley +explained with pride how he had found and developed the first paying +lead in the Great Hope, but that the name of the mine foreshadowed a +much richer vein that he was confident was soon to be opened. Science +and that "sixth sense" of the miner assured him that the big thing was +coming. + +"We're always looking toward El Dorado, we miners," he said with a +laugh. "It's hope that keeps us up." + +"'El Dorado'--the hoped-for land," repeated Betty softly. And then, +standing there in the flickering radiance of the torch, she repeated, +while the men were silent, that concluding paragraph of Robert Louis +Stevenson's essay: + + "'O toiling hands of mortals! O unwearied feet, traveling ye know + not whither! Soon, soon it seems to you, you must come forth on some + conspicuous hilltop and, but a little way further, against the + setting sun, descry the spires of El Dorado. Little do ye know your + own blessedness, for to travel hopefully is a better thing than to + arrive, and the true success is to labor.'" + +"Amen," Hunt commented seriously. + +"You said it," agreed the mining man with that bluff emphasis that did +not shock Betty so much now as it might at the beginning. "That's what +keeps me going. Stevenson knew what he was writing about. But, we would +have considered him a weakling out here, I am afraid. We are inclined to +judge everything here in terms of muscle and brawn." + +"But it has been your brains, Joe, not your brawn, that has carried you +so far in this work," Hunt declared warmly. + +Hurley sighed as they went back to the shaft. "Let me tell you I have +had to use considerable brawn, Willie, in handling these roughnecks that +work for me." + +He laughed again. Joe Hurley could not be sober for long. And his temper +exploded when he had to shout at the top of his lungs to attract the +attention of the watchmen when they wanted to get up to the surface. + +"This feller isn't worth the powder to blow him from here to Jericho," +grumbled Hurley. "I always miss old Steve Siebert when he slopes for the +desert, as he's bound to do every spring. That old desert rat is always +here over Sunday to see that everything is all right, when he's on the +job. But he just has to go off prospecting once in so often." + +He told them more about Siebert and Andy McCann as they went away from +the claim. Betty listened as before with quiet interest, but she made no +comment. Hurley was not at all sure that she had enjoyed, or even +approved of their visit to the mine when she and Hunt parted from him at +his own shack, although she thanked him politely. + +The walk did not end for Hunt and his sister without a more adventurous +incident. The sun had disappeared and the dusk had begun to thicken in +corners and by-streets as they approached the hotel. There, at the mouth +of a narrow lane, two figures stood, a man and a girl, and their voices +were sharp and angry. + +"That's what I'm telling you," the man's voice drawled, a note in it +that at once raised in Hunt that feeling that any decent man experiences +who hears one of his own sex so address a woman. "You got to come to it, +and you might as well come now as later. I got you on the hip--that I +have. Understand?" + +"I understand nothing of the kind, Tolley. You're a bluffer and a beast! +And if you don't let me alone----" + +"Don't fool yourself," interrupted the man. "I won't let you alone till +you come back to the Grub Stake. But I won't talk to you about it again. +I'll talk to others." + +Then the girl told him angrily to do his worst. Betty attempted to pass +on swiftly; but the young man hesitated. + +"Do for goodness' sake come along, Ford!" whispered his sister, looking +back at him. + +Back in Ditson Corners--or in almost any other Eastern town--the Reverend +Willett Ford Hunt would scarcely have shown his interest in such a scene +on the street, save perhaps to speak to a constable or policeman about +it. + +But there was something here he could not ignore. Nor was it entirely +because he recognized the angry voice of the girl, although he had not +as yet seen her face in the dusk. + +"You'll do what I tell you," muttered the bully with an oath, as Hunt +stepped nearer. "If you don't come back to the Grub Stake to sing +to-morrow night, I'll let the whole o' Canyon Pass know----" + +It was just then that Hunt's hand dropped upon Boss Tolley's shoulder. +Nor did it drop lightly. The parson twisted the big man around by one +muscular exertion and looked into his flushed face. + +"Don't you think you've said enough to the young lady?" Hunt asked +quietly. "You have evidently forgotten yourself." + +"What--why, you fool tenderfoot!" + +"Suppose you go, Miss Blossom," suggested Hunt with unruffled voice. +"Let me speak to this man." + +But the minister had quite mistaken Nell Blossom's temper. She turned on +him like a shot. + +"What are you butting in for, I'd like to know? I can take care of +myself--always have and always expect to." Then she laughed harshly, +turning to Tolley again. "Better beat it, Tolley, or the parson will do +something to you besides grabbing your hat." + +The dance-hall keeper, swearing still, jerked away from Hunt's grasp. He +did not seek to continue the quarrel, however. He abruptly turned up the +alley and disappeared. + +"For goodness' sake, Ford!" ejaculated Miss Betty. + +Nell Blossom, thus attracted to the other girl, stepped nearer and +stared at her. Her own face was unsmiling. If it had not been so really +pretty one might have said it was a black look that she gave Betty. But +it was an impish look, too. + +"There are some things you'd better learn if you are going to stay in +this camp, parson," said the singer. "The principal thing is to mind +your own business. If I ever need your help in any little thing, I'll +call on you." + +She passed them both, still staring--now with curiosity--at Betty and went +on along the street. Betty seized her brother's arm. + +"What a horrid little creature!" she said. + + + + +CHAPTER XI--THE STORM ABOUT TO BURST + + +There was a strangely paradoxical feeling in the Reverend Willett Ford +Hunt's mind. Nell Blossom was a subject of thought he could not escape. +He could not wholly overlook her manners and speech; yet he did not feel +that she was blameworthy for either. + +What chance had this wild blossom of a girl ever had, out in this +wilderness, the daughter of a drunken ne'er-do-well, as he had been +told, taught from her childhood to sing for her own living and for her +father's in the saloons of mining camps? Why, almost any other girl +would have gone bad--as bad as could be. And he knew Nell Blossom was not +bad. + +He really wished he might make Joe Hurley his confidant about the girl, +but, harking back to that letter of Joe's in which the latter had spoken +so enthusiastically of Nell, the parson felt that his friend was too +strongly prejudiced in Nell's favor to risk his criticizing her in any +way. + +One question recurred again and again to him: What did that man Tolley, +who he knew was the proprietor of the Grub Stake saloon and dance hall, +mean by commanding Nell to return to his employment? + +Betty saw her brother's more serious mien, and it must be confessed, +wickedly hoped that the situation as it opened before him here at Canyon +Pass was beginning to appall him. How could it do otherwise? Let alone +the crudeness and lack of conveniences in their dwelling place, the +nature of the people with whom they must associate, and the utter +forlornness of life here in the mining town, that last incident as they +walked back from the Great Hope Mine should impress Ford with the utter +impracticability of his trying to begin a pastorate here. + +The awful ruffian who had sworn at the girl--horrid as she seemed to +be--shocked Betty beyond expression. And what a look that Nell Blossom, +she had asked her brother the singer's name, had given her, Betty Hunt! +As unfriendly, as hateful, as though the Eastern girl had done the +singer some grievous wrong. + +The strange girl had insulted and flouted Ford, too. Betty's loyalty to +her brother was up in arms at that, if the truth were told. She could +not but admire after all Ford's cool assumption of authority with the +ruffian and with the cabaret singer as well. Why, Ford did not seem to +be afraid of these people at all. Even Joe Hurley could have been no +more sure of himself in such a situation than her brother had proved to +be. + +For in spite of her disapproval of the mining man she realized that Joe +was perfectly able to handle such situations and such rude people with +equanimity. But then, he was of this soil. He was of the West. To tell +the truth, Betty was inclined to think of Hurley as being quite as bad +in manners, speech, and outlook on life as the other people of Canyon +Pass. + +She would say nothing about all this to her brother. Betty Hunt was +quite capable of thinking things out for herself. Prejudiced she had +been--and was--against the town and their visit to it; but she did not +utterly lack logic. She went to bed that second night in the Wild Rose +Hotel with somewhat different thoughts in her mind after all. At least, +she did not drag the washstand in front of her locked door as a barrier. + +In the morning the mining man appeared at the door of the hotel riding +his big bay and leading two other saddled horses. The freight wagons had +come in the evening before, and Betty had got her trunks. Out of one she +had resurrected the riding habit which she had not worn of late, but +which still fitted her perfectly and was chic. + +But Betty was daunted by the look of the mount Hurley had selected for +her. + +"Mr. Hurley!" exclaimed Betty emphatically, "on your honor, is that +horse safe?" + +"As safe as a church. You hitch him on a railroad track, and he'd only +step just far enough aside for the lightning express to go by without +shaving him." + +She looked at him, both puzzled and disapproving. "I never know when you +are serious," she finally said. + +"You can bet your last blue chip on the fact that I am taking no chances +of a hoss throwing you or cutting up rusty while you're on his back," +the man returned earnestly. "Hardscrabble is all right, Miss Betty." + +He offered his hand to Betty for her to step into with all the grace of +a courtier. He looked up into her eyes, too, as she mounted past his +shoulder into the saddle, and his smile was so friendly that she could +not help smiling in return. + +Hunt swung himself on to his own mount--a rather rangy cayuse that +promised speed as well as endurance. Hurley bounded into his own saddle +from the step without touching the stirrups until he was seated. Bouncer +stood up on his hind legs, snorted, came down stiff-legged, and bucked +once just to show that he was in fine fettle. The other horses cantered +away from the hotel more sedately. + +They spattered through the West Fork and went into the canyon along the +river trail. There was not a soul in sight but themselves when they +turned the first out-thrust of the cliff. Runaway River brawled in its +bed. The huge, threatening cap of the Overhang cast its shadow almost to +the opposite wall. The mighty rocks, the deep cracks in which the brush +clung with tenuous roots, the wind-wrung, anguished, stunted trees, all +held the visitors spellbound. Such a devil's slot in the hills they +could never have imagined without actually seeing it. + +"Suppose that should fall?" Betty broke out pointing up at the frowning +cap of the cliff. + +"That's what we are supposing all the time, Miss Betty," replied Hurley +quietly. "Part of it did fall about twenty years ago. That was long +before my time, of course. But Bill Judson and some of the other +old-timers can tell you about it. It came pretty near ringing the +death-knell for Canyon Pass." + +"Backed up the river into the town, did it?" asked the logical Hunt. + +"I'll say it did! And over the town. Judson says it was so deep over his +store that he went out from the headlands in a flatboat and grappled +through the skylight of his joint for tobacco out of the showcase. Takes +that old-timer to spread it on thick," and he chuckled. + +"But is it likely to happen again?" cried Betty. + +"Any day--any hour--any minute," repeated Hurley quietly. "There are +thousands of tons of stuff up there that may fall. Choke the canyon +half-wall high. If it does, there'll be a lake here that'll furnish +water enough to irrigate blame near all of the Topaz Desert--believe me. +Canyon Pass will have to go into raising frogs or such," and he laughed. + +"Oh! I felt that it was a dangerous place to live in," murmured Betty. + +"Great saltpeter!" exclaimed Hurley again. "No worse than folks who live +on the sides of volcanoes in Italy, for instance. Or in the earthquake +belt along the Pacific coast. Pshaw!" + +"But--but there is so much room out here, Mr. Hurley," cried Betty. "Why +not choose a safer place in which to establish a town?" + +"The mines and washings. Gold established Canyon Pass. It isn't a +beautiful spot, but it's handy. We got to just keep on hoping that the +Overhang doesn't fall." + +"There is a place where some of it has fallen--and recently," Hunt broke +in, with some gravity. + +Half blocking the trail, and bulking along the river's edge for perhaps +ten yards, was a heap of gravel and soil on which no grass or other +verdure grew. Looking up the sloping canyon wall they could trace the +downfall of this small slide for more than half the distance to the +summit. + +"What is that sticking out of it?" asked Betty. "A stick?" + +Hurley sniffed like a bird-dog that has just raised a covey. He was to +windward of the heap. Hunt had forced his mount nearer from the other +side. + +"That is not a stick," he said quietly. "It looks to me like----" + +Hurley ejaculated something that was very near an oath. He flung himself +out of his saddle and strode over the rubble. He stopped and examined +the thing Betty had seen, even touching it with his gauntleted hand. + +"Never heard of this," he muttered. "Odd, I must say!" + +"What is it?" asked Hunt. + +"A horse's leg. Been pecked clean by the vultures--not by coyotes, or the +bones would be torn apart. Well!" + +"Oh, there has been a dreadful accident here! Is somebody buried under +that pile of gravel?" demanded Betty. + +"Not likely. Just a cayuse. Maybe a wandering critter. Happened to be +right here--taking a drink at the riverside, maybe--when the slide fell. +Or it might have been the cause of the slip. Came down with it," Hurley +explained in jerky sentences. "The weight of the hoss might have broke +off a piece of the Overhang and--here he is!" + +This seemed to satisfy him. He went back to his own horse and mounted +again. + +They rode several miles farther, but Joe Hurley did not seem quite so +volatile as usual. Was he "studying" on the buried horse by the +riverside? At least, when they rode back toward noon, he fell behind at +the point where the small landslip had landed, halting his horse beside +it for a moment. He overtook his friends in a short time, however, but +did not say anything. + +As they sighted the ford again, down from the upland on this side came a +dashing and brilliant-hued figure--a girl on a cream-colored pony. Hunt +recognized Nell Blossom at first glance. + +"Hi, Nell!" shouted Hurley, raising his hand and arm, palm out, in the +Indian peace sign. + +She scarcely nodded to him, but she grinned elfishly as she rode down +into the shallows and her pony's flying feet spattered them all at the +river's edge. She scarcely seemed to give Hunt and his sister a glance. +She plied the quirt that hung from her wrist, and the cream-colored pony +recklessly forded the stream and climbed the further bank. + +"How impolite," murmured the Eastern girl, brushing the drops from her +sleeve. + +"She's a little devil," agreed Hurley frankly. "That's the lady I was +telling you of, Willie. She's as wild as a jack rabbit." + +Hunt nodded soberly. He made no other comment. As they rode up into Main +Street they heard wild yells and hootings from the far end, then the +pattering of a pony's rapid hoofbeats. Back toward the ford tore the +cream-colored pony bearing the bizarre figure of the cabaret singer. + +Now Nell rode without touching the bridle reins. She swung the whip and +cracked it sharply. In the other hand she gripped a six-shooter of +practical size and weight. + +"What is the matter with that crazy creature?" asked Betty. + +Hurley merely laughed. Nell Blossom approached at a wild gallop. Men +appeared at the doors of various stores and saloons along the street and +yelled their delight. + +"Ye-yip! Yip-py-yip!" shrieked the appreciative audience. "Oh, you Nell! +Ye-_yow_! Git out o' town!" + +The girl, her face glowing, her hair flying from under her hat, her +whole figure electric with life and abundance of spirit, rode faster and +faster. As she approached the front of the Grub Stake she saw the +slouching figure of its proprietor backed against the wall by the door, +smoking. He grinned evilly at the rider. + +Nell pressed the trigger. Five staccato shots whistled skyward. The +sixth ruffled the lank hair on Boss Tolley's head and splintered the +door frame just above it! + +The divekeeper dodged and crouched, as though expecting another bullet. +He almost slunk into his barroom. Then he realized that the girl had +made a show of him and was riding on, applauded by the laughter and +shrieks of the onlookers. + +He whirled, and, lifting both hands, shook the clenched fists after the +flying Nell. He was almost apoplectic with rage. He burst forth: + +"You crazy, derned hoptoad of a gal! Somebody ought to grab you off that +animal. Shootin' at folks thataway! Is that what you done when you drove +poor Dick Beckworth over the edge of the Overhang?" + +The incoming trio of riders--Hurley, Hunt and Betty--were almost opposite +the Grub Stake as Tolley emitted these words. In a flash the mining man +was out of the saddle and standing in front of the startled Tolley. + +"What do you mean, you miserable scoundrel?" demanded Joe in so +threatening a tone that Tolley fell back against the side of the +building again. "What do you mean about Dick Beckworth?" + +Hunt had spurred his own horse nearer. He feared Joe would do something +rash. The rolling, bloodshot eye of the divekeeper expressed fear of the +other; but he was too much enraged to call caution to his aid at that +moment. + +"I mean what I say," he rumbled. "You don't know it, and nobody else in +Canyon Pass, I reckon, knows it but me. But I know that derned crazy gal +was the cause of Dick Beckworth's end. And a mean end it was." + +"Dick the Devil, _dead_?" + +"That's what he is," said Tolley with less vehemence. He sensed that it +would not be wise to be so vociferous with Joe Hurley's eyes glaring +into his own. "Dick come to a mighty mean end. I seen it; but I didn't +know what it meant." + +"It's more likely you killed him, Tolley--if he's dead. Or did you have +him gunned by Tom Hicks or some other of your friends?" demanded Hurley +sharply. + +"I never! Poor Dick wasn't expectin' nawthin', I allow. That crazy +gal----" + +"Be blamed easy how you bring Nell's name into this," muttered Hurley, +his hand upon the butt of his own gun. + +Hunt leaned from his saddle and laid his hand upon his friend's +shoulder. Hurley did not look back--he knew better, for there was +likewise a gun at Boss Tolley's belt. + +"All right, Willie," the mining man said. "Let's listen to what this rat +has to say. But be blame careful, Tolley, that you don't raise your +voice too high. If you do, I'll certainly maul you a pile." + + + + +CHAPTER XII--TOLLEY'S TALE + + +Hunt had a feeling that he was present at one of those tense scenes of a +Western cinema drama, where the heroic gunman holds the villain under +the muzzle of his lethal weapon. + +He might have leaned from his horse again and plucked both Joe Hurley's +gun and that of the divekeeper from their holsters. But he thought twice +about that. Neither of the men was in the mood to brook interference. +Besides, the parson was keenly alive to the mystery manifested in +Tolley's words regarding Nell Blossom and the man called Dick the Devil. + +Nobody else was near enough to have overheard what passed between Tolley +and Joe Hurley. None of the other Passonians, amused by Nell's wild +escapade, drew nearer, and Betty had ridden on to the hotel, refusing to +betray the least interest in such a rude scene. + +"Speak up, Tolley!" commanded Hurley again. "You've been telling us Dick +Beckworth went to Denver to deal faro at a gambling house there. Now you +come out with such a thing as this--mixing Nell's name up in some blamed +lie about Dick's being killed." + +"He was killed. It was murder--or mighty close to it. And that gal----" + +He halted again. There was something in Joe Hurley's eyes that stopped +him. + +"Suppose you start this thing right," said the mine owner more quietly. +"I understand Dick Beckworth left town the morning old Steve and Andy +McCann broke out, the same as usual, this spring?" + +"And the same morning that gal left me and the Grub Stake flat, and went +kitin' off," retorted Tolley. + +"Well, let's hear the particulars." + +"I didn't know Nell had gone at first." He winced, having spoken the +girl's name again, because of the darting threat from Hurley's brown +eyes. "When Dick told me he was off I didn't scarce believe him. But +then I seen him and that--er--gal riding down to the ford. I thought they +was up to some game. Anyway, I thought I could talk Dick into coming +back. He was the best dealer I ever had." + +"Well?" snapped Hurley. + +"I saddled a hoss and went after them. They'd followed the wagon track +to the top of the cliff. But I thought they'd took the river trail. When +I got a piece along the road, I heard something go _bam_--a fall of rock, +or something, down the cliff. I hurried my nag and come around a turn +where I could see. I looked up--never thought to look ahead along the +edge of Runaway River, I see her--Nell--looking over the edge of the +cliff. + +"I see then I was follering the wrong lead," pursued Tolley. "I didn't +think much about the slip I'd heard--not then. I wanted to get at Dick. +So I turned back, got to the foot of the wagon track up the cliff +yonder," he pointed, "and hurried after them. + +"When I got up there neither of 'em was in sight. I hustled along the +road and went clean past the fork of the Hoskins' trail. Never thought +of either of 'em going to that dump," grumbled Tolley. + +"Well, I give it up after a while. I thought I'd lost too much time, +starting out wrong at first as I had. They was too fast for me. So I +rode back. It wasn't till then, when I come to that place I'd seen Nell +looking over from, that I saw how big a lump had broke off the edge of +the Overhang." + +Hurley sucked in his breath sharply. "Go on!" was all he said. + +"I looked down there. I seen how big the slide was. And I seen something +more. There was something sticking out of that heap of stuff on the +river bank. I couldn't be sure, but I thought it was the hind parts of a +hoss, only upside down. + +"I pushed my hoss along the river trail again and come to the heap of +stuff that had come down the cliff. It hadn't come down alone." + +Hunt, listening as closely as Hurley, had no idea how his friend felt; +but for his own part his flesh crawled at the inference he drew from +Tolley's tale. The man let his last words sink into their minds for +fully a minute before he went on. + +"It hit me right where I lived. Something bad had happened. It hadn't +happened to the gal. So I figgered it must be Dick. + +"And I wasn't mistook," continued Tolley with a certain satisfaction in +his tone. "I'd been right when I thought there was a hoss in that pile +of gravel. There was--but not much of it stickin' out. However, I clawed +down to the saddle, undid it, and hauled it out. It was Dick's all +right. I got it now stuck into the bottom of my big safe." + +"But where was Dick?" demanded Hurley. + +"How should _I_ know?" retorted the other. "Maybe under the heap--but I +didn't think so. I reckon he was throwed clean into the river. And you +know what the current of Runaway River is!" + +Hurley groaned. + +"Wait!" said Hunt suddenly. "The man you call Dick might not have gone +over the cliff with the horse. You did not see the accident." + +"He didn't come back to town. And he wouldn't have gone on afoot to +Hoskins or any place else," Tolley said surlily. "Nobody ain't seen him +around yere from that day to this." + +"And you lied about Dick and kept it under your hat all this time?" was +Hurley's comment. + +"Well, I had a right, didn't I?" blustered Tolley. + +"Every right in the world." The mining man spoke evenly now, coldly. +"And you've got a better right to keep the story to yourself right +along." + +"What d'ye mean?" + +"What I say. Keep your mouth shut about it. Don't let me hear of you +opening your yawp the way you did just now. I don't half believe this +yarn, anyway. You couldn't tell _all_ the truth about anything, Tolley. +The truth isn't in you. But sometimes a half-truth does more harm than a +whole lie. You stick to your first story about Dick the Devil going to +Denver. Understand?" + +"I don't understand why I should do what you say, Hurley." + +The latter patted the butt of his own gun. "Notice that?" he said with a +deadly fierceness that shocked Hunt. "If you repeat this yarn, I'll come +after you. And if I come after you, Tolley, I'll get you!" + +He went back to the waiting Bouncer and mounted into the saddle without +another word or a glance at Tolley. But Hunt, his nerves strained to a +tension he had never before experienced, watched the owner of the Grub +Stake sharply. Hurley's disregard of the fellow amazed the man from the +East. He did not realize that Tolley was so unstrung that he could not +have hit the broad side of a barn if he had drawn his gun. But Joe +Hurley knew it. + +The two young men rode on to the door of the hotel, both silent. Cholo +Sam was watching Betty's pony. The girl had dismounted and gone up to +her room. + +"Joe, what is going to be the end of this?" asked Hunt in a low voice. + +"I don't know, Willie." + +"Will you speak----" + +"To Nell? Not on your life!" + +"But the truth will come out some time. Who was that Dick?" + +Hurley told him. He went further and told of the interest the cabaret +singer had shown in the gambler for some time previous to Dick's +disappearance--before Nell had gone to Hoskins to sing in the Tin Can +Saloon. + +"It--it looks bad," faltered Hunt. + +"Bad is no name for it." + +"The girl should be questioned." + +"Not by me!" cried Hurley. "I don't think Tolley will run the risk of +speaking to her about it," he added. + +"He has already," said Hunt. + +He explained about what he and Betty had overheard pass between Nell +Blossom and the owner of the Grub Stake the evening previous. + +"Great saltpeter!" gasped Hurley. "Then that's why Nell cut that caper +just now. She didn't do it just for deviltry. She was warning Tolley on +her own hook." + +"Joe, there must be no bloodshed over this. If one man has died, that is +enough," Hunt said sternly. "We must get at the truth." + +"Not me!" cried Hurley again. "I wouldn't tackle Nell for a farm." + +"And--and you are so close to her--know her so well?" murmured Hunt. + +"That ain't no never-mind," the mining man said earnestly. "That girl's +got teeth, I tell you." + +"But she is in danger. She must be questioned." + +"Great saltpeter! You wouldn't get nothing out of Nell Blossom--nothing +that she didn't want to tell." + +"She should be convinced that her greater danger lies in silence." + +"Convince Nell? What did I tell you, Willie? You couldn't make her do a +thing, or even see a thing, that she did not want to do or see." + +"There is one thing I can do," said Hunt finally. + +"What's that, Willie?" and his friend sighed. + +"Find me a pickax and shovel." + +"What's that?" + +"A pickax and a shovel. At once." + +"Great----Say, that's a new one. I never thought of getting an idea into +Nell Blossom's stubborn head with those tools. But it might work at +that," and Hurley rode off to get the instruments of labor, but without +a smile. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII--PLANS ARE MADE + + +Hurley brought back with him two shovels instead of one, and the pick. +The two young men took a roundabout way to the ford so that Boss Tolley +might not spy them and suspect where they were going. + +They did not talk much. Both were thinking too deeply--were much too +disturbed by the uprearing of this tragic thing--for idle chatter. Hunt +wondered how his friend really thought of Nell Blossom. For his own part +he was heavily depressed by this thing that had come to light. + +The situation threatened serious consequences for the cabaret singer. In +a more law-abiding community the coroner's office would have summoned +Nell Blossom for examination if the district attorney did not. And in +any case, Hunt believed, the whole miserable business must come at last +to the light of day. + +It was past noon when Hunt and his friend arrived at that heap of dirt +and debris that had before attracted their attention. But neither of +them thought of the hour or of the midday meal. + +Hunt, dismounting, allowed the reins to trail upon the ground before his +horse's nose as he saw Hurley did with Bouncer. Both animals were well +trained. He removed coat, vest, and Tom Hicks' broad-brimmed hat which +he still affected. Rolling up his sleeves he seized the pick and went at +the task with the skill as well as the strength of a trained +ditch-digger. Hurley admired the parson's ability thus displayed. + +"Some boy, you, Willie. I'll tell the world you know something besides +pounding the pulpit. Where's that shovel?" + +They uncovered the dead animal and threw it into the swift, deep current +of the Runaway. + +They did not cease digging, however, until every square yard of the +fallen soil and rubble from the top of the cliff had been combed over. +They covered one section with the upturned windrow of another. Nothing +which had fallen with that fatal landslide remained unseen. But what +they had feared to find was not in evidence. + +"Either Tolley's guess was right, or Dick Beckworth never came down that +wall with his horse," Hurley said with finality. + +Hunt nodded, finally leaning on his spade. "At least, we have satisfied +our own minds," he said. "That is something." + +"And mighty little. Dick isn't here. I bet a thousand he didn't go to +Hoskins with Nell. He wouldn't have walked in any case. Then, where the +devil is he?" + +"That is not the main question," rejoined the parson thoughtfully. "The +principal thing is to get at the truth about this accident. What +happened up there at the top of the cliff? Did the man come down with +the horse and these several tons of gravel and soil? And if he came +down, what became of his body?" + +"Great saltpeter!" Hurley brought out his uncouth ejaculation with a new +emphasis. "Do you suppose Tolley, after all, knows more about that than +Nell does?" + +"What?" Then Hunt understood. "It might be," he said slowly. "Evidently +Tolley was not pleased by that gambler's leaving him, any more than he +was pleased by Miss Blossom's leaving him. It might be----" + +"It might be," finished Hurley with vigor, "that Boss Tolley is dragging +a skunk after him to fool the hounds." + +Hunt admitted the truth of this rather homely expression. "All the more +reason why the girl must be questioned," he said. + +"You're crazy, Willie!" cried Hurley. "You will get nothing out of +Nell--if she doesn't want to talk. And if she knows anything at all about +this, and is at all connected with the matter of Dick's disappearance, +you can just bet she's got good reason for keeping her lips closed." + +"For her own sake, she should confide in us--in you, at least. She will +need our help and our support if this comes out." + +"She's got mine, whether or no," Hurley said, slinging on his belt and +gun again. + +Perhaps Hunt thought he spoke significantly as he hitched the weapon +into place. He wagged a disagreeing head. + +"That sort of support will not save Nell Blossom's soul," he observed +thoughtfully. "To blow off Tolley's head will not help her one iota in +cleansing her mind and heart of anguish if she has guilty knowledge of +that man's death--if he is dead." + +"I tell you that Dick the Devil was well named," cried Hurley furiously. +"Why some man before this had not beaten him to death is a mystery. If +Nell shot him off the edge of that cliff, he got what was coming to him, +and no more." + +"Oh!" murmured Hunt, with a shudder. "It might not be that she has such +a terrible sin as that on her conscience!" + +"I don't give a hang," returned his friend. "If she had, there ain't +twelve men in Canyon County that would convict her of it. Don't tell +me!" + +"Oh, Joe! You don't see. You don't understand," urged his friend sadly. +"What matters man's conviction of her crime? It is of what her own heart +may convict her." + +"'Twouldn't bother me none if I'd sent Dick the Devil over that cliff," +declared Hurley. "But I leave it to you, parson. You maybe know more +about such things than I do. To tell the truth, you do. Otherwise I +wouldn't have had any hopes of your doing any good in Canyon Pass. Maybe +you know more about womankind than I do, as well," he added, a bitter +smile wreathing his lips once more. "I wish you all the luck in the +world when you tackle Nell Blossom on this topic. But I wouldn't be in +your shoes for half my stock in the Great Hope." + +Anxious as he was made by the outbreak of this affair the Reverend +Willett Ford Hunt did not forget the work that he earnestly hoped to +begin in Canyon Pass. Nor did he delay in laying plans for the efforts +he hoped would aid in changing the moral tone of the town. + +It was that evening in the Three Star Grocery where he went with Joe +Hurley that the first tentative plan was discussed. Jib Collins, who +seemed to have been much impressed by the young minister on Sunday +afternoon, was there, as well as the old storekeeper himself. With them +several of the more sober citizens joined in conversation. + +Hunt struck while the iron was hot. The first thing, he thought, was to +find some place in which services could be held on Sunday. He had seen +at least one empty store, or warehouse, he told them, which might be +cleaned out and put into fairly decent shape. He had looked into the +windows. There was a dingy sign on the front which said it was for sale. + +"Dad burn it, parson!" exclaimed Judson, "you must mean that old place +of Tolley's." + +"Tolley?" repeated Hunt with disappointment. "Does it belong to that +man?" + +"Sure does," said Jib Collins. + +"It used to be where Tolley had his honkytonk before he built his bigger +place. He owns it, of course," Hurley remarked. + +"Then I presume we could scarcely count on getting it," said Hunt with +reflection. "Tolley is vigorously opposed, I understand, to this thing +we wish to do." + +"Hold on," put in the storekeeper. "Let's study on it. In the first +place, you all keep it under your hats, and maybe I can do something +with Tolley." + +"You'll do a fat lot with him," prophesied Collins. + +"Mebbe so. We'll see. How 'bout that 'wisdom of sarpints' the Good Book +speaks of, parson?" said the storekeeper. "You lemme try to fix it with +Tolley. That's all." + +"Oh, we'll leave it to you, old-timer," Hurley said laughingly. "Nobody +will begrudge you that job." + +"If we get that place--or some other--we must have seats," Hunt went on. +"There are many things to think of--and many things to get together +before next Sunday. A week is none too long to prepare for such a work." + +"And a pulpit," Collins proposed. "Me and Cale could knock up a +pulpit--of a kind. We are some carpenters--me and Cale. If I can get him +to help." + +Hunt was perfectly willing to put such burdens as he might upon the +friendly citizens of Canyon Pass. In fact, that is just what he wanted +them to do--take hold of the new idea as though they really supported it. +The discussion, although of generalities, brought forth some concrete +results. + +Judson knew that Tolley was anxious to do something with the old shack. +Judson intimated that he expected to need more room for goods. He did +not say exactly when he would need it; but he got Tolley down to an +agreement, and they made a bargain. The storekeeper paid a nominal rent +for the shack six months in advance, agreeing to make such repairs as +the place might need himself. + +The business was kept secret, although Collins and Cale Mack went to +work on their part of the job the very next day. Others collected seats +and a few other furnishings. Everything was of the plainest; even the +pulpit was built of unpainted boards. But Hunt saw that the place was +clean. + +Judson furnished lamps from his stock. "We'll want evening meetings, +too," he said. "After we get to going, I mean. It won't be a bad idea to +commence running a show that will compete with the Grub Stake and +Colorado Brown's and those other joints. The boys drop into the saloons +because there ain't another derned place in the town to go to after +dark." + +On Wednesday Hunt, walking toward the mines, confronted unexpectedly the +withered, baldheaded man he had carried home over his shoulder on Sunday +morning. Sam Tubbs stopped him. + +"I reckon you're the parson, ain't you?" he asked, cocking his head in a +birdlike way to look up at Hunt. "My old woman is right smart anxious to +see you again. That woman's all for this here religion they say you are +going to deal out to the boys. Says she's got something for you." + +"Thank you, Mr. Tubbs. I will go around and call on her." + +"Well, you can if you like. Miz Tubbs is pretty nigh big enough to be +her own boss, and what I say don't affect her no more than as though I +shot my mouth off in the middle of Topaz Desert. That's a fact. I hear +you are a pretty decent feller, as parsons go; but I might as well tell +you right now that I ain't--and don't ever mean to be--a convert." + +"I shall like you none the less for that, Mr. Tubbs," said Hunt, smiling +and offering his hand. "A man must always decide for himself, you know. +I shall be glad to have you come to hear me preach; but you need not +believe a word I say unless your own mind tells you I am right." + +"Huh!" grunted Sam, rather staggered. "That sounds fair. Mebbe I will +come to hear you--sometime. If you last long enough." + +This opinion--that the parson would not last in his attempt to uplift +Canyon Pass--seemed to be the view of the general run of Passonians. + +He had a few very enthusiastic coworkers, however. He found one when he +went to call upon Mother Tubbs. + +"It's been in my heart for many a long day, Brother Hunt," the old woman +said. "This here holding meetings, and the like. I said a long time back +I'd give a pretty if a man of God would come in here and shake this camp +like a snowslide in the mountains. We need to get a mighty bump. +Youbetcha! + +"Now the time's come, I'm just as excited as a gal going to her first +dance. I can't make Sam enthuse none; and I'm disappointed in Nell, I do +say. But I am going to do all I can myself to boost your job for you." + +"Thank you, Sister Tubbs," said the young parson. "Is Miss Blossom +here?" + +"She's upstairs a-dressin'. But I don't reckon she'll give you much but +the rough side of her tongue. Lately, Nell seems to be bewitched. Think +of her ridin' her pony up and down the street the other day, shootin' +and cavortin' like a drunken cow-puncher! She puts on these didoes jest +for devilment. And she ain't got a good word for you and your plans, +Brother Hunt." + +"Well," said the parson calmly, "perhaps things will change with her in +time. We won't worry." + +"I'm glad you can take it so calm," said Mother Tubbs, sniffing. "Now, +come in yere. This is what I got for you." + +She led the way into the inner room, half bedroom and half sitting room, +the principal room in the shack. There was a small center table. On it +was a huge tome with tarnished brass clasps--a bulky volume that had +evidently seen much rough usage. Mother Tubbs put her hand upon it +proudly. + +"See that, Brother Hunt?" she said. "It's the old Bible out of the Blue +Lick Chapel down in Arkansas. The chapel burned down when I was a gal; +but the Bible was saved. When my folks moved out thisaway we brung it +with us, and it's been in the bottom of an old trunk of mine for forty +year. Now it comes to light." She opened it with care. "I reckon you got +all the Bibles you need to work with. But I do like to see a big one +like this on the pulpit for show." + +"This is most thoughtful and kind of you, Sister Tubbs," declared Hunt, +understanding the spirit of pride and reverence in which the old woman +had offered the book. "I shall see that it rests on our pulpit." + +At that moment Nell Blossom came into the room from the stairway. She +nodded to him bruskly, but offered him no welcoming hand. + +"I declare, Nell," complained the old woman, "you ain't going out +without a word to the parson, are you?" + +"I've no particular word for the parson," returned the girl, a glint of +ice in her blue eyes. + +"If you will allow me to say so, Miss Blossom," said Hunt quietly, "I +have a particular word for you." + +She stared at him angrily. He picked up his hat from the chair. + +"If you are going out," he said, "I will walk along with you and say +what I have to say." + +"Humph! I can't stop you from walking up Mulligan Lane. It's free," +returned the girl most ungraciously and walked ahead of him out of the +house. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV--THE GREAT DAY ARRIVES + + +Hunt caught up with Nell Blossom when she had passed through the gap in +the barrelstave picket-fence, and his length of stride easily kept him +beside the girl. Unless Nell broke into a run she could scarcely leave +the parson out of earshot. + +"Miss Blossom," he began, "my interference in your affairs calls for no +excuse. I have no vulgar curiosity. You tell me to mind my own business. +But when I see another in trouble it is my business to offer aid." + +"I am not in trouble," she answered sharply. Then, with scorn: "And if I +was, I wouldn't want a parson's help." + +"No. But a friend's help? I assure you I am your friend." + +She now looked at him rather curiously, but her expression did not +soften in the least. Doubt, scorn, a real dislike of the man who sought +to gain her confidence struggled to gain the mastery of her pretty +features. + +"I don't know you, I've only seen you a few times. I don't make friends +so easy----" + +"We don't make friends in this world, Miss Blossom. We win them whether +we would or not. You have won my friendly feeling because I know that +you are troubled. I know what your trouble is, and I believe I can help +you." + +His downrightness startled Nell, and she stopped and stared at him. + +"You can't help me if I don't want your help," she cried in secret +panic. + +"I cannot help you so much if you deny me your confidence," he admitted. +"But I stand ready to help you." + +"You'd better sit down," she shot at him. "You'll have a long wait +standing for me to get confidential with you, Mr. Parson." + +"Consider," said Hunt seriously, unshaken. "We cannot any of us afford +to refuse an honest offer of sympathy and assistance." + +"What are you trying to do?" she asked with suspicion. "Trying to +squeeze something out of me? You parsons!" + +She muttered the phrase disdainfully. He put her rudeness aside without +change of countenance. His placidity, his assurance, began to shake +Nell's confidence in herself more than any other thing. + +"I have heard something. I have seen something. I know that if you will +listen to me--perhaps accept and follow some advice I may give you--you +will be benefited," he said. + +"In what way, I should like to know?" she asked jeeringly. + +"In your heart. In your mind and conscience." + +"Well!" She was silent again for a moment, but her face did not change +in its expression, "Well, you can talk, I reckon," and she moved on +slowly again. "There ain't any law against talking in Canyon Pass--yet." + +"From the few words I heard that man, Tolley, say to you on Sunday +evening, I know that he threatened you," Hunt said directly. + +"That beast!" + +"He thinks he has knowledge that will make you trouble if spread +broadcast in the town." + +"Let him dare!" + +Her face was suddenly that of a young and beautiful fury. Hunt shook his +head, saying softly: + +"Killing him would not remove the cause of your trouble, Nell Blossom." + +She turned on him again, her little fists clenched. + +"How much do you know? Out with it!" she commanded. + +"I will tell you what Tolley says." + +"So you've been snooping and prying, have you?" she queried, her rage +almost suffocating her. + +"I will tell you what Tolley says," repeated Hunt. And he did so calmly, +dispassionately, as though he were relating a series of common facts. +"That man's horse was under the fall from the cliff. The man's body is +not there--if he fell with the horse." Nell did not even wince, still +staring into his eyes, her own as hard as flint. "Those are all the +facts in my possession, Miss Blossom." + +She remained silent. She had recovered both her regular breathing and +her composed manner. He could only read in her features a determination +that was adamant. + +"Will you answer a few questions?" he ventured. + +"Out with them!" + +"What caused the horse to fall?" + +"You gump! He fell because the bank gave way," she replied rudely. + +"What became of his rider?" + +"I don't know." + +"Did you leave him at that spot?" + +She waited a moment. Then, as harshly as before: + +"Yes." + +"You have not seen him since? Or communicated with him?" + +"Dick Beckworth? I should say not!" + +"Do you know what became of him?" + +A bitter, sneering smile marred her lips. "I know what Tolley says--that +he's in Denver." + +"Tolley proposes to deny that now," Hunt said softly. + +"Let him. One lie is as good as another, and Boss Tolley's full of +them." + +"Will you help me discover if Beckworth is alive?" + +"I tell you once for all, I don't want anything more to do with Dick the +Devil. I don't want to even hear about him." + +"Then you and he quarreled?" + +The mistake was fatal, and the parson knew it the instant he had said +the unwise words. But he could not recall them. + +"See here, Parson Hunt! you're making a nuisance of yourself. I want to +tell you that no tenderfoot will get far in Canyon Pass if he begins as +you have. I've got nothing to tell you. I won't talk to you. I don't +want a thing to do with you. Now! Am I plain enough?" + +She walked on stoutly, her head up, her cheeks aflame. For a few yards +he walked quietly beside her. Then he lifted his hat and turned aside. +When Nell had disappeared, Hunt sadly shook his head. + +"I fear," he told himself, "that I have made a bad beginning." + +Circumstances that followed proved that his suspicion was correct. In +less than twenty-four hours he heard that without a doubt he had made +another enemy. + +"I don't know how it is, parson," said Bill Judson shaking a mournful +head, "but that little devil, Nell Blossom, is on the warpath. And she's +after your scalp." + +"It is stuck on pretty tightly, Mr. Judson," Hunt replied with a smile. + +"'Tain't no laughing matter. Nell has a terrible drag with the boys. If +she don't have you run out of town, she may try to bust up your show. +She says you're a mischief-maker, and all that. She's plumb down on +parsons." + +"We will have to convince her that the tribe is harmless." + +"Not much chance," said Judson, who evidently shared Hurley's opinion of +Nell's obstinacy. + +"Time will cure all that," said the parson, with more apparent +confidence than he really felt. + +While preparations were going forward for the first meeting with +satisfactory speed, Hunt heard on every hand of the gathering forces of +opposition. + +Nell Blossom had resurrected the old song, "This Is No Place for a +Minister's Son," and in a ridiculous clerical make-up sang it each night +in Colorado Brown's place. Passing along the street to his hotel Hunt +heard the chorus roared by the men who applauded the cabaret singer. He +was met with more jeering laughter wherever he went than before; and he +realized that ridicule would do the good cause more harm than any other +form of opposition. + +Joe Hurley was very busy at the mine that week, and he had not much to +say to his friend from the East when they met. But he showed curiosity +as to what had befallen Hunt when he talked with Nell Blossom. + +"I fear I began wrong," admitted the parson. + +"I reckon however you began you wouldn't get far with Nell," observed +Hurley. "I'll keep my eye on Tolley. He's just boiling inside. But +unless he has a gang behind him he hasn't any more spunk than a rabbit. +Nell's too popular--just now, especially--for him to dare spring anything +against her. And she certainly is making herself well-beloved with the +boys from the Eureka Washings and the other mines," and he grinned +ruefully. + +"I can keep most of my own roughnecks in line. I reckon they kind of +cotton to me, and they know I am set on this church business. But Nell +certainly holds the camp in the hollow of her hand." + +"She is wrong; but she does not realize it, perhaps," considered Hunt. +"And yet, maybe she does know." + +The Reverend Willett Ford Hunt might have considered, as his sister +believed at that moment, that the outlook for successful religious work +in Canyon Pass was quite as foggy as it had been at any time at Ditson +Corners. Yet the opposition that had developed here was nothing more +than Hunt had expected. And it was open hostility. There was nothing +hypocritical about it. + +He had met Slickpenny Norris at the bank, Hunt had opened an account +there, and had invited the old curmudgeon to take some interest in the +church proposal. He had got one large grunt from the banker, and that +was all. Norris could be as close-mouthed as a clam when it might be to +his disadvantage to speak his mind. But he offered no encouragement to +the parson by that grunt. + +Saturday evening came and those who were most interested in the uplift +of Canyon Pass gathered at the old Tolley place to view with +satisfaction and no little pride the improvements and changes brought +about. + +"Jib," remarked Judson to Collins, having deserted the Three Star +Grocery and left it in the care of the gangling Smithy at a very busy +hour to "take a squint" at the interior of the meeting room, "Jib, you +and Cale Mack have certainly done yourselves proud on that pulpit." + +"Don't praise me! Don't praise me!" exclaimed Collins. "I never could +stand flattery. It puffs me all up. But it's a pretty nifty bit of work, +I do agree." + +"Yeppy," pursued the storekeeper. "It has a slant to one side that maybe +is more the fault of the floor than your spirit-level, Jib. And it looks +sort o' wabbly. But barrin' them defects, it's what I'd call a sightly +pulpit." + +"It's strong enough," grunted Collins gruffly, now not so much pleased. +"I don't reckon the parson is going to take a maul to it, is he?" + +Mother Tubbs just then entered the door. Behind her staggered Sam, his +reeling motion for once having no connection with an alcoholic cause. +Sam Tubbs was dead sober--and quite as positively provoked. + +"I snun to man!" he croaked. "Makin' a pack-hoss of a man thisaway! If +that danged parson wanted this yere Bible he ought've come and toted it +himself." + +"It's very good of you to bring it, Mr. Tubbs," said Hunt, smiling and +coming forward to relieve the old man of his burden. + +Hunt placed the big Bible on the pulpit. One of the interested +housewives had sent a rather handsome linen table-scarf for a pulpit +cloth, and although it was somewhat yellowed from disuse, it made the +unpainted desk seem less bare. + +They drifted in, one by one and in couples, during the evening, these +people deprived so long of the inspiration of worship in a public sense, +some bringing hymn-books of various sorts and a few Bibles. But Hunt had +not come to Canyon Pass unprepared on that score for church work. He had +brought with him from the East fifty hymn-books of the more popular kind +and a dozen Bibles for the use of the congregation in general. When +these had been distributed about the benches they made, Mother Tubbs +declared, "a mighty tasty show." + +Betty was present to be introduced to the women of the camp. Whatever +her private feelings were, the parson's sister could be, and was on this +occasion, a very helpful assistant to her brother. If the Passonians +felt a little awkward, Betty put them quickly at their ease. She made a +most fortunate impression on them all, and the general opinion was "that +that Eastern gal was a perfect lady." + +Joe Hurley appeared with some of the younger men. They were all scrubbed +till their faces shone, shaved to a nicety, and their hair "slicked" and +anointed with everything Jose, the Mexican barber, had on his shelves. + +"Umph!" murmured Mother Tubbs, wrinkling her nose appreciatively. +"Certainly smells proper good since them fellers come in yere. I never +did see why bay rum smells so much better than drinkin' rum. And bay +rum's the only kind of liquor I approve of. The other I only get at +second-hand--on Sam's breath!" + +It was late in the evening, and the town was getting lively, though it +seemed not so noisy as on most pay-nights, when they scattered from the +door of the meeting room. + +Hunt and Betty were the last to go. He latched the door behind them, but +there was no thought in his mind of locking it. That anybody would enter +the place before morning did not cross his thought. + +But later in the night, when this end of Main Street was deserted and +the frolicking in the various amusement places was continued only by a +few irrepressibles, a figure stole out of the alley beside the old +Tolley building and slipped into the room prepared for the first Sunday +service in Canyon Pass. + +Without a light in the place the intruder had some difficulty in +reaching the desk; once there, some few moments elapsed while the +uninvited visitor climbed into the pulpit and opened carefully the big +Bible. When the book was as carefully closed again, without the white +book-marks the parson had placed in it having been disturbed, the +obtrusive one departed. + +Outside, there seemed an air of satisfaction about the very way this +unknown individual walked away. In addition, a very determined--almost +viciously resolved-voice observed: + +"There! If that impudent pulpit-pounder don't get his, I miss my guess!" + + + + +CHAPTER XV--PEP AND A LITTLE PEPPER + + +All Sabbaths were not fine at Canyon Pass, as Hunt realized on opening +his eyes on that important morning. From the same open window through +which he had viewed the chaste glories of the Topaz Range a week before, +he now saw heavy, thunderous-looking clouds wrapping the peaks and +surging down into the lower reaches of the landscape, blotting out, as +they moved on, each monument that he had learned in this brief time of +his sojourn to know. It promised no fair day for the parson's first +service. + +This, however, was not the basis of the heaviness that oppressed him. +Hunt admitted the cause of his heart-sick feeling without dodging the +issue. It was Nell Blossom and her attitude toward him personally that +so troubled the parson of Canyon Pass. That she opposed the good work he +was trying to inaugurate was only a side issue in Hunt's mind. +Opposition in general merely spurred a spirit like his to greater +effort. That is, a frank opposition. + +But the minister's personal interest in Nell Blossom had become +something that controlled him. He could not control it. + +It was not right, he told himself, to do any poaching on what he +considered Joe's preserves. Whether or not Nell cared for the mine +owner, Hunt believed he would be disloyal to his friend if he showed +anything but the interest of a minister and religious adviser in the +young woman. + +Hunt was honest enough to admit that such feeling was not what inspired +him in the matter. Nell Blossom was not at all the kind of girl he would +have deliberately chosen as the object of a serious affection. But who +of us may choose when love enters the lists? + +The winsomeness of Nell shone through the rough and prickly husk of her. +He realized that no man could see in all its clarity the girl's soul. He +believed that the untaught mining-camp child, used as she was to the +rude life about her and only that life, was really out of her natural +element. Whatever Henry Blossom, Nell's dissolute father, may have been, +the girl's mother had perhaps given her child as a legacy a natural +refinement scarcely to be looked for in any person brought up in so +unpolished a community. + +In short, Nell Blossom's intrinsic worth was no more hidden from the +parson than her physical beauty. Her hatred of and disdain for all men +had its root in no fault she had committed. Some man, had it been that +gambler Hunt had heard called "Dick the Devil?" had disillusioned the +child-heart of Nell Blossom and, perhaps, the sweets of love had turned +to ashes in her mouth. + +What had become of that gambler? What was the truth about that tragedy +at the brink of the canyon wall? Did Tolley know the facts and misstate +them? Or was Dick Beckworth really dead and his body swept away by the +torrent of Runaway River? + +It was plain, Hunt decided, that Dick's disappearance weighed heavily +for some cause on Nell Blossom's mind. Something had happened on that +spring morning weeks before which had changed Nell from the +happy-go-lucky girl the parson knew she must have been to this bitter, +disdainful, and apparently wicked woman who scoffed at religion in any +form, and especially had "no use for a pulpit-pounder." + +In a week he had become imbued with such an interest in Nell that she +was the subject most in his thoughts at all hours. He could not +eradicate her from his mind, though he tried hard to do so. + +In his heart he scarcely supposed that the time would ever come when he +might be a suitor for Nell's hand. Joe Hurley stood between them. But +the Reverend Willett Ford Hunt was old enough and wise enough to know +that whatever came to him in the future, as long as he retained his +faculties, Nell Blossom would occupy a niche in his secret heart that no +other interest could fill. + +Twice at night, when Betty was in bed, Hunt had descended into the lane +and, standing at the back of Colorado Brown's place near an open window, +listened to Nell sing her songs, even to the caustic one with which she +closed her act and in response to which the crowd wildly roared its +applause. The verses about the minister's son "went big." But there was +a sweetness and power in her singing voice that seemed to reveal the +better qualities of the girl in the more tender ballads she sang; for +all her numbers were not of a humorous nature. She could bring tears as +well as smiles to the faces of her audience with that voice. + +Betty came tapping at his door while Hunt was still in his robe. When +she saw the dark business suit laid out on the bed she frowned. + +"Ford! I did hope you would dress properly on this day," she said. + +"I am dressing properly--for Canyon Pass," he returned, smiling. "I am +not inclined to attract the hearty laughter and scorn of such members of +the community as Boss Tolley, Tom Hicks, and their ilk. Clerical garb +might be considered by them as a gratuitous insult. And the last thing I +wish to do here is to antagonize the rougher element." + +Although Betty failed to see much distinction in the roughness of the +community, she did not open that avenue of discussion. She did say +decisively: + +"Why bother about those awful men, Ford? Tolley and his crowd will +never, never be members of your congregation. Maria, Sam's wife, has +been giving me the history of those wicked men. She is afraid of her +life because of the gang that hangs about the Grub Stake. That is a +terrible institution, and everybody in Tolley's employ is bad." + +"And yet, Miss Rosabell Pickett, who plays the piano for Tolley, is +going to have her own piano trucked over to the meeting room this +morning and will play the hymns herself for us. So some good must be +found at the Grub Stake," Hunt rejoined, still smiling. "Besides, if +they are bad men, I hope to help them." + +Cholo Sam was closing the door of his bar and locking it when, later, +Hunt and his sister came down from their rooms. Maria, with a jetted +jacket, yellow petticoat and reboza, was waiting for her husband. + +"Senor Hunt," said the innkeeper, flashing his white teeth as usual, "we +honor ourselfs to attend your service, if we may? Si?" + +"I'll be glad to see you and Maria there, Sam." + +Hunt then followed Betty out of the hotel. It had rained since sunrise, +but had stopped now. They were early for the service. The street was +almost deserted. It had been arranged by Hurley that the whistle of the +hoisting engine at the Great Hope should be blown at a quarter to eleven +and again at five minutes of the hour. There was no other means of +summoning the Passonians to worship. + +There was a roar of voices from the barroom of the Grub Stake as the +parson and his sister passed. They crossed the street to avoid a +quagmire, but the sound of revelry followed them. It seemed that all the +other saloons and stores in sight, including the Three Star Grocery, +were somnolent. + +Bill Judson joined them as they passed the grocery store. The old man +was as solemn as a bishop and as uncomfortable as new shoes, tight light +trousers of an ancient fashion, and a stiff-brimmed straw hat could make +him. + +"Hello! What's the matter with Tolley now?" the storekeeper exclaimed in +surprise. + +The owner of the Grub Stake had come tearing out of the place, seemingly +blinded by rage, and dashed along the street. The group that boiled out +of the Grub Stake after him did not follow, but urged him on with +jeering laughter. + +"What is it?" asked Betty, startled. + +"Dunno," said Judson, quickening his stride. "But the feller's up to +something." + +They were in sight of the meeting room now. The door stood open. When +Tolley reached it he plunged in. + +Hunt would not leave Betty, but he hurried her on, while Judson almost +ran and was over the threshold before them. There was a sudden explosion +of voices inside, Tolley's tones high over all. + +"Here's that derned cheater now!" the owner of the place was heard to +shout as the storekeeper entered. "Bill Judson! you think you're mighty +smart, but you can't put nothing like this over on me." + +"What's eatin' on you, Tolley?" was Judson's cool response. + +"The boys just told me what you folks was aimin' to use this dump for. I +didn't hire it to you for no church. I won't have it, I tell you! This +is my shack." + +"And I've paid rent for it for six months. What you goin' to do about +it?" drawled Judson. + +"I'll show you! I won't let no ham-faced old-timer like you make a fool +of me." + +Hunt reached the door. Betty was almost afraid to enter. There were +several men inside and two or three women. Tolley was striding toward +the pulpit, swinging his arms and shouting himself hoarse. + +"I'll show you!" he shouted. "I own this dump. I'll throw this litter +into the street. A church in my shack? Well, I reckon not!" + +The distant whistle at the Great Hope pealed its first signal for the +service. Several groups of Passonians were visible now, converging +toward the place of worship. + +"Better cool down, Tolley," advised Judson again. "We don't aim to have +any riot yere. This used to be your honkytonk, and a dirty place it was. +But we reckon on running another sort of business in it, and you can't +stop us. You're trying to throw sand in the gears o' progress, as the +feller said." + +"I'll show you what I can do!" shouted Tolley, mounting upon the pulpit +platform. He whirled about, and saw Hunt entering the room. "Here's that +danged preacher now." + +"Mr. Tolley," said the parson clearly, "the wicked have been known to +come to the house of God to scoff and have remained to pray. We are +going to hold a service here in a quarter of an hour. You are invited to +join us. But if you remain, I must ask you to be quiet." + +"Why, you derned, white-livered tenderfoot! I'll show you----" + +He seized upon Mother Tubbs' big Bible and raised it as though he would +fling it upon the ground. Betty gasped. Judson started forward. But +Hunt's voice rang loudest through the room. + +"Tolley! Put that Book down!" + +The compelling tone made the divekeeper pause. He still glared, his face +distorted by wrath; but, as Joe Hurley had once said, the fellow after +all had not the courage of a rabbit. He really expected Hunt to follow +the command with the only show of authority that went in Canyon Pass--the +display of a gun! + +But the parson had made no threatening gesture. He did not even advance +down the room. + +"Dang you!" yelled Tolley, and brought the Bible down upon the pulpit +with such emphasis that the desk rocked. + +The following instant his head was surrounded by a halo of fine +particles, the pungency of which was apparent to the surprised +spectators almost at once. Tolley received the blast of powdered cayenne +full in the face and eyes! + +He gasped--choked--sneezed. He sneezed again, a most vociferous roar of +sound, quite involuntary and spasmodic. The pepper that had been +sprinkled between the leaves of the big book had in one burst pelted +Tolley with its fine grains, filling eyes, nose, and his mouth, for that +had been open to emit another angry shout. + +But now he only shouted for help between sneezes. Tears poured down his +face. He staggered blindly down from the pulpit and begged for the open +air. + +Hunt was first to reach the tortured man and led him forth. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI--LOVE AND LONGING + + +Even Hunt could not express sympathy for the unhappy Tolley. But he did +not join in Judson's laughter or the chatter of the others in the +meeting room. Tolley staggered off toward the Grub Stake, swearing +between the huge sneezes which racked him like successive earthquake +shocks. Hunt returned inside the building. + +The others were grouped near the door, and there were weeping eyes among +them. For the moment the atmosphere in the vicinity of the pulpit was +unbearable. + +Hunt drew forth a handkerchief, tied it across his nose and mouth, and +advanced to the desk. The Bible had not been injured by Tolley's rough +action. But the red pepper was scattered thickly upon the linen pulpit +cloth. He wrapped the book in this cloth and carried it to a window +which looked upon the narrow lane beside the building. Hunt opened this +window; and, leaning over the low sill, dropped the book to the ground. + +He closed that window quickly; but he opened others to ventilate the +room. The damp air quickly relieved the place of the pungent pepper. The +parson did all this quietly. He made no comment on the incident. + +But the gathering company whispered and chattered--the women angrily, the +men more than a little inclined to be amused. + +"Parson," said Bill Judson, his eyes twinkling, "I promised Jib Collins +last night that I'd warn you to go easy on pounding the pulpit because +it was sort o' wabbly. I reckon 'twas Tolley I ought t've warned." + +Betty explained to the woman who furnished the pulpit cloth why it was +not in evidence, and Mother Tubbs when she arrived had to be told why +the pulpit Bible was in retirement. But there was time for little more +than that, as the second whistle blew, and the room began to fill. + +At least an audience was not lacking to hear Hunt preach his first +sermon at Canyon Pass. The seats were comfortably filled. Most of the +congregation were cleanly and neatly dressed; the women in such finery +as they owned. But some of the men, the rougher sort and evidently +present out of curiosity only, looked just as they did on week days. +Smoking, however, was taboo. + +Rosabell Pickett and her piano, a small upright instrument of a rather +uncertain tone, was of great assistance. Without her help the strangely +awkward congregation could scarcely have raised a hymn. + +Hunt made no comment upon the inauguration of the new regime in the +town. He conducted the service just as he might have conducted a mission +meeting at Ditson Corners. And he preached as carefully thought-out a +discourse as was his wont, although his theme was simple. He held their +respectful attention and, he believed, won their undivided interest. + +After the close of the service the Bible was rescued by two of the women +and cleansed of the pepper which had been so plentifully shaken into it. +Mother Tubbs took Hunt aside. + +"I'm plumb ashamed, parson!" she said indignantly. "To think that Nell +Blossom done such a trick on you!" + +"Nell Blossom?" + +"She done it," said the old woman with conviction. "I missed my box o' +red pepper last evening; but I had no idee what that flighty gal took it +for. And then she said when I tried to get her to come to meetin' this +mornin' that she reckoned it would be too hot up yere for her, and said +for me to keep out o' the front seats." + +"Ah!" + +"She reckoned you'd get to thumping the Book in the middle of the +sermon, maybe. When Boss Tolley hears tell how it come, he won't love +Nell none the better, I reckon." + +The peppering of the pulpit Bible might have made the whole of Canyon +Pass roar with laughter and have brought nothing but ridicule on the +parson had Hunt been the actual victim of Nell Blossom's impish trick. +That Boss Tolley chanced to suffer yielded a number of the townspeople +much amusement. But it afforded others an opportunity to show stronger +approval of what Hunt and his coworkers were trying to do. + +Then, there was a third party. It was chiefly made up of Boss Tolley's +friends. Tolley raved against both Hunt and Nell Blossom, and his +satellites listened and agreed with him. There began to be whispered +about Canyon Pass a story to the effect that the absent Dick Beckworth +would never be seen by mortal eye again, that he had left town in Nell +Blossom's company, and that the cabaret singer, if anybody, could +explain how Dick's horse had come to be found under a heap of fallen +gravel at the edge of Runaway River. + +Joe Hurley did not chance to hear these whispers for some time. In +truth, during the weeks immediately following that first service in +Tolley's old shack, the owner of the Great Hope had found his time fully +occupied by two interests. The mine itself was one, for he believed he +was close upon the unveiling of that rich vein which he had always +believed was the "mother lode" of his claim. The second interest was in +Betty Hunt. + +Hurley sought the society of the Eastern girl whenever he could do so. +Hunt, who was busy himself in several ways--especially in getting +personally acquainted with the people in their homes or where they +worked--was glad Joe could devote himself to Betty. Otherwise his sister +might have found it very lonely here at Canyon Pass. + +The girl from the East allowed Hurley's better qualities to impress her +mind more and more. In her company, too, the young man tried to +eradicate from his speech the vernacular that he knew she despised. Yet +when he grew interested in a subject of conversation, or was excited, it +was the most natural thing in the world for Hurley to revert to the +vivid expressions of the cattle trail and the camp. + +Of course, no man could have prepared himself for college without +obtaining a foundation of book education which Betty must fully approve. +Occasionally Hurley revealed a flash of wit or a literary appreciation +that delighted the girl. + +These weeks of association bred in both young people a confidence and +admiration for each other which under ordinary conditions might have +foretold the growth of a much warmer regard. Hurley began to hope. Yet +Betty gave him no such encouragement as young women are wont to offer a +man in whom they begin to feel a tender interest. + +Midsummer was approaching, and the dry, rarified air of Canyon Pass +sometimes seemed a blast from an open furnace. But when they rode, as +they often did, out upon the heights--above the canyon, for +instance--there was always a cooler and more pleasantly odorous breeze. + +In one of their earlier rides the two had jogged the entire length of +the canyon on the east bank of Runaway River, and even a little way into +the desert, far enough to mark the shallow basin where the last trickle +of what was at Canyon Pass a boisterous torrent disappeared in the +alkali. + +But Betty did not admire even the look of the desert country. There was +something horrible to her mind in the appearance of the dreary waste. +She had never seen the Topaz at sunrise! + +When they mounted to the highlands west of the camp, as they did on this +present day, there were half a dozen trails they might strike into a +country which would reveal beautiful as well as rugged prospects, and to +these Betty could grant admiration. She had begun very soon to feel the +splendors of nature which were so different here from those of her +native Berkshires. + +There was a forest that always intrigued her. The trail led them down +cathedral aisles to the bank of a murmurous stream. To this they +journeyed to-day; and, when within sound of the river, Betty drew her +mount to a stand. + +"It is beautiful, Mr. Hurley," she sighed. "I do not wonder that you so +love this out-of-door life and this wilderness. And then you have always +been used to it. It does make a difference where one is born." + +"You said it!" returned Hurley emphatically. "I pretty near stifle when +I get into a city and have to stay a spell. When I get back to this I +feel like a boy again." He smiled reflectively. "The bard of 'Cactus +Center' hits off my feelings to a fare-ye-well," and he proceeded to +repeat from "The Forester's Return:" + + "'I'm back on the job by the singing river, + Far from the town with its money-mad, + Back where the quaking aspens quiver-- + And I'm glad. + + There's work to do and there's work in plenty, + And it's sleep in the open if fate so wills; + But no man is more than one-and-twenty + In the hills.'" + +"That is fine!" Betty cried with enthusiasm, her eyes sparkling as they +seldom did. "Why, I can almost feel that way myself, sometimes." + +There was a drop in her tone at the end. She looked away and, had he +been able to see into her eyes then, he would have beheld a much +different expression in their dimmed depths. + +"You'd feel like it always if you'd just let yourself, Miss Betty," +Hurley said, with sudden warmth. + +She smiled a little doubtfully, but turned toward him again, having +recovered her composure. Joe's eyes glowed and a strange pallor rose +under his tan. + +"Just think of living out here all your days and enjoying every moment +of them! It's rough, I know, and sort of untamed. But it's a good life, +Miss Betty--a wonderful life!" + +"You--you almost convince me," she stammered, laughing a little +uncertainly, yet gazing at him with a dawning light in her eyes that Joe +had not seen there before. + +It emboldened him; it inspired him to speak the words that were boiling +under the surface of his calm. He was a forthright fellow at best, was +Joe Hurley, and he was very, very much in love with Betty Hunt. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII--A BATTLE IN A GIRL'S HEART + + +"Betty, I want to tell you something," he said, unconsciously urging +Bouncer nearer to the girl's mount. "These weeks you have been here at +Canyon Pass have been the greatest in my life." + +The girl looked at him in a startled way. + +"This is a big country, it is true. Big things are done out here--great +accomplishments achieved--fortunes won. And I have always meant to do my +part in it--both as to making money and winning the better things of life +for myself. I want to see things that are already started, developed, to +watch Canyon Pass grow--in a spiritual as well as a material sense. + +"But something else has got hold of me, Betty. I was living a pretty +wild life before you and Willie came out here. I wrote him I was. I kind +of gloried in being a roughneck, I reckon," he added with a wry smile. +"But all that's changed with me now, Betty--since you came." + +"Mr. Hurley--Joe!" gasped the girl. + +But he raised his hand gently in protest. The gesture asked her to +wait--to hear him through. + +"I've got another object in life--another reason for working and +striving. I reckon a man never does know quite what he's aimin' to do +until he sets a mark before him that isn't altogether selfish. I want to +get ahead just as much as ever--more so. But I want to accomplish what +I'm aimin' at for something higher than just the satisfaction of seeing +the Great Hope pay big and know that folks say Joe Hurley has made a +ten-strike!" + +"You--you will be successful, Joe," she murmured. + +"That's up to you, I reckon," the man said abruptly. "I'm aimin' to +accomplish all this--winning a fortune, helping to put Canyon Pass on the +map, and all--for you, Betty. Just for you." + +"Mr. Hurley! Joe! Don't!" the girl suddenly exclaimed. + +Her face had grown rosy when she began to understand fully what he was +coming to, and then it paled. As she listened to his final outburst the +grieved expression that contracted her lips and dimmed her eyes shocked +him. Before she could speak he knew what answer he was to receive. + +"Don't say anything more--please!" she begged. "It's all wrong. I never +thought this--this would happen. Why, I thought we were just friends." + +"Betty!" ejaculated the man in a tone that wrung the girl's heart. +"Betty, haven't I got a chance with you? I know I'm not worthy----" + +"Oh! Oh! Don't put it that way, Joe," she pleaded. "It really isn't +that!" + +"What's the matter with me then?" he demanded. "Do you want time to +think it over? Or--wait! Betty, is--is it because you left some one back +East?" + +The girl was silent. She turned her head so that he might not see her +face. But Hurley waited. She had to answer--and the halting word was +uttered as though it were wrenched from her. + +"Yes." + +Hurley drew in his breath sharply, and then he was likewise silent. A +minute dragged by. She stole a glance at him at last. He was staring +steadily at her left hand. She had removed her glove, and the hand +rested bare upon her pony's neck. Suddenly her face flamed again. + +"Oh! I do not wear his--his ring," she said hoarsely. "There--there is a +reason. I----" + +"I am not prying into your private affairs, Miss Betty," Hurley said +quickly. "Only--I am sorry I did not know before. Willie never said a +word to warn me." + +"He does not know!" ejaculated the girl. "I--I do not want him to know." + +"He won't learn it from me. Don't fear," said Hurley rather roughly. + +"Oh, Mr. Hurley! I am so--so sorry," whispered the girl. + +The man, with drooping shoulders and hanging head, sat his horse, a +statue of disappointment. He did not move or look at her, as she wheeled +her own mount. + +"I--I think I would like to ride back alone, Mr. Hurley. You--you won't +mind? Afterward I hope we may be quite as good friends as heretofore. I +do appreciate your friendship--Joe." + +Betty could not easily miss the way back. The trail was perfectly plain. +She rode fast at first, for with all her sorrow for Joe Hurley's +disappointment, she could not bear him near her now. + +Because she had no thought of ever considering him other than a friend, +the girl, who was after all quite inexperienced, had not dreamed Hurley +would come to regard her warmly. She could not understand how it had +happened. It seemed unbelievable! + +Love--romance; a lover--happiness; these things were not for Betty Hunt. +She had long ago told herself this. She was devoted to one man only, her +brother. And when he would no longer need her, if that time ever came, +she expected to follow a lonely trail. + +It was not merely Joe Hurley that she could not marry. She could not +marry any man. + +She came out of the majestic forest and reached the open stretch of the +trail from Hoskins. This she followed toward the wagon track which edged +the brink of the Overhang. She had brought her pony to a quieter pace +and jogged along, deep in her unhappy thoughts. Suddenly, turning a +clump of brush, she quite involuntarily drew in her pony and halted. +There was a rider on the trail ahead of her, a stranger. + +It was for only a moment that Betty saw him. Horse and rider were +plunging down a steep declivity beside the trail into a thick copse. Had +he heard her pony and was he seeking to escape observation? The girl was +impressed with this possibility. + +She rode on again, but very cautiously. She held a firm grip upon her +pony's rein. Suppose the stranger should suddenly spur his horse into +the trail again and halt her? From the moment her brother had decided to +come West, and she knew she must attend him, Betty had been fearful of +just such a meeting as she visualized now. + +She half turned her mount, tempted to fly back toward the river and Joe. +There was something very comforting in the thought of Joe's nearness. +Perhaps, if she waited here, he would overtake her. At least, he might +come into sight. + +Then the thought entered her disturbed mind that possibly Hurley had +gone home another way. He knew the country well. He might not follow the +only trail she knew by which to reach Canyon Pass. + +With this to spur her, the girl urged her mount forward. No use in +waiting. The place must be passed. She could see no movement of the +brush where the stranger and his horse had disappeared. But she felt +that he was there! + +Again she gathered up the pony's reins and held them firmly. She gripped +her whip, too, and prepared for a dash. But she continued to walk her +horse. + +She was on the _qui vive_ for a quick start. Her eyes searched the brush +in the little ravine. Suddenly she saw something that was not +vegetation. + +She rode on, but she was more and more disturbed by this object at the +edge of the brush. Then, of a sudden, she realized what it was. It was +the upper part of a man's face. The hatbrim covered all his hair and cut +off much of his forehead; a branch hid all below the point of his nose. + +And yet this patch of face shocked Betty. It seemed that she recognized +it! Was it--could it be---- + +The blood pounded in her temples; her eyes were suffused. At that moment +she could not have spurred her pony had the lurker in the brush sprung +forth into her path! + +Then he moved. She gained a clear glimpse of his entire face before he +dodged again out of sight. His hair rolled upon the collar of his shirt +and he wore a mustache, but no beard. Betty felt sudden relief. + +"It is never Wilkenson--never!" she murmured. "Never him!" + +She knew that her terror had been born in her own mind rather than of +any external danger. The man was nothing to her--no one she had ever +seen. She rode on finally with a sudden access of courage--a feeling that +often comes to one when a peril has been successfully surmounted. + +Indeed when, a little later and in sight of the broader wagon-track, she +heard the pattering hoofs behind her she was not startled. At first she +thought it was Joe Hurley. Then she recognized the fact that there was +more than one horse coming. Even at that she felt confidence. + +She turned to look, and saw three roughly dressed fellows pounding along +the trail on tired and sweating steeds. One of the men had an +authoritative air. It was he who addressed her, sweeping off his hat in +the same way that Joe Hurley was wont to offer greeting. + +"I say, miss," said the man, "have you seen a feller riding this yere +way--couldn't be long ago? Mebbe an hour?" + +"What--what man?" she hesitated. "I rode along here some time ago with +Mr. Joe Hurley----" + +"Shucks, ma'am! I ain't after him," replied the man. "I know Joe mighty +well. And if you are a friend of his, you pass. I'm the sheriff of +Cactus County, and me and my deputies are after a yaller hound that +bamfoozled some honest men out of their hard earnings. He's got the +gold, and we want both him and it! We been trailing him two days." + +Betty trembled so inwardly that she could say nothing; but luckily the +sheriff did not consider there was anything she could say. + +"If you and Joe Hurley come along from Canyon Pass, you'd have seen this +feller, if he'd gone that way. And I'm mighty sure he wouldn't aim for +the Pass. I reckon, boys, Lamberton is our best bet. Good-day to ye, +ma'am." + +He removed his hat again, and the other two did the same. But they did +not ride south at the fork of the trail without casting back more than +one admiring glance at the trim figure and quietly beautiful face of +Betty Hunt. + +She cantered away on the Canyon Pass trail. She had something else to +think of now. By keeping silent had she aided a thief to escape the +hands of justice? But, then, perhaps she had saved a man's life as well! + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII--THE SHADOW ON BETTY'S PATH + + +It was still a beautiful summer morning, but its charm was quite lost +for Betty Hunt. Her appreciation of the beautiful in nature was +submerged by what had so overwhelmed her heart and her thought. + +The thing which had been so long hidden in her mind--that secret which +had changed Betty so desperately at the end of her schooldays--had risen +to the surface again. + +But she had not gone far when something arose that made Betty wish she +had not left Joe Hurley beside the singing river. Her staid old pony +began to limp. + +She was a good rider, but she had not the first idea what to do when a +horse went lame, except to get down and relieve the poor creature of her +weight. But she was much too far from Canyon Pass to walk and lead the +hobbling pony. + +The wise old cow pony made much of the affliction, and when Betty tried +to urge it on the limping horse was a pitiful sight indeed. Betty had +never been taught the proper way to pick up a horse's foot to examine it +for a stone in the frog; but the pony lifted the crippled member in such +a way that the girl managed to get at it. The stone was there, a +sharp-edged flint wedged into the frog, but the girl had no instrument +with which to get it out. + +Fortuitous circumstances do happen elsewhere besides in bald romance. +Unlooked-for help appeared in this moment of Betty's need. She looked up +to see Nell Blossom on her cream-colored pony galloping along the wagon +track, coming from the direction of Canyon Pass. The cabaret singer +glanced at the dismounted girl, nodded, and would have gone right by, +but she chanced to see the pony limp on a yard or two. + +"What's the matter with that hoss?" demanded Nell, reining in her own +pony with both skill and promptness. + +"Oh, Miss Blossom," cried Betty, "there's a stone in his foot, and I +can't get it out." + +"Where's your side partner?" asked Nell, getting slowly down. "That Joe +Hurley oughtn't to let you tenderfoots out of his sight. Not on the open +trail." + +Betty recognized the measure of scorn in this remark, but she was in no +position to resent it. She said as casually as she could: + +"Mr. Hurley stayed behind for something. He may not even come back this +way. I really do not know what to do for the poor creature." + +"Meanin' Joe, or the hoss?" and the blue eyes danced suddenly with +mischief. + +"The poor pony." + +"Get the stone out," Nell said, picking up the pony's foot. + +"It is wedged in tightly--that stone." + +Nell drew from the pocket of her abbreviated skirt a jackknife that +would have delighted the heart of any boy. With an implement in this she +removed the stone in a twinkling. + +"There!" Nell said. "Let him rest here a minute, and he'll be all right. +The old four-flusher! He isn't hurt a mite, but he'd like to have you +think so," and she slapped the pony resoundingly. + +"I'm awfully much obliged to you, Miss Blossom." + +"No need to be. And no need to call me 'Miss.'" + +"Oh--well--Nell, if you like it better," Betty rejoined with a most +disarming smile. "I thank you." + +"That's all right," said Nell in her brusque, but not altogether +unfriendly, way. "I say, Miss Hunt!" + +Betty interrupted with: "Betty, if you please, Nell." + +"Oh! All right," the singer said, the more friendly light sparkling in +her eyes again. "What I wanted to ask you is, is that suit you got on +really what they all wear in the East?" + +"Yes. Since nearly every one rides astride now, the habit is made +mannish." + +"Well, I've straddled a hoss ever since I can remember, but I never seen +anything but a skirt and bloomers or a divided skirt like this on women +before. But I must say them things you wear are plumb fetching." + +Betty was amused. But she had reason for feeling kindly toward Nell +Blossom. + +"You could easily cut over that corduroy skirt you wear into a pair of +breeches like these," she suggested. + +"You reckon so?" asked Nell with eagerness. "I'd like that a pile. But I +don't know----" + +"I could show you. We could cut a pattern. Has anybody in town a sewing +machine?" + +"Sure thing. Mother Tubbs has got one. And I can run up a seam as good +as she can." + +"I'll tell you," proposed Betty with real interest. "You ride back to +the hotel with me, and we'll cut the pattern out of a newspaper." + +Through such seemingly unimportant incidents as this the trend of great +affairs are sometimes changed. Had Nell ridden on she might have seen +the same fugitive Betty had noticed hiding in the chaparral. But Nell +was easily persuaded to attend the parson's sister to the Wild Rose. + +The two girls, who seemed to have so little in common, after all found +much, besides the dressmaking plans, in each other to afford them +interest. + +It was Nell's strangely sweet voice that pleased Betty most. Even when +the Western girl said the rudest things, her voice caressed one's ear. +And Betty began to realize that Nell's "rudeness" was born of frankness +and a certain bashfulness. Most bashful people are abrupt, at times +quite startling, in speech. In another place, among other people, Nell +Blossom would have betrayed timidity and hesitation. But, as she would +have said, she would not have "got far" in Canyon Pass by yielding to +any secret shrinking from her associates. + +"A girl's got to keep her own end up in a place like this. They all root +for me and clap me on and off the stage. But I've got to fight my own +battles," pursued the singer. "Men are like wolves, Betty. The pack will +foller a leader so long as that leader keeps ahead. When the leader goes +plumb lame and falls behind, they eat him." + +"Oh!" + +"I'm popular with the boys. They're strong for me just now. But +'twouldn't take much to make 'em turn on me. I know 'em!" she concluded +grimly. + +She knew a great many things, it was evident, of which Betty Hunt was +ignorant. When the cabaret singer went away with her pattern she left +Betty much to ponder about, which did not fundamentally deal with Nell +Blossom's problems. + +When Nell had gone a grimmer shadow overcame Betty's mind--a shadow that +had lain athwart her path since that bitter season just preceding the +death of her Aunt Prudence Mason and Betty's withdrawal from boarding +school. + +The events of those last weeks at Grandhampton Hall were etched so +deeply upon Betty's memory that they could not be effaced. She believed +that they never would be. + +And on this day all had been rubbed raw again by Joe Hurley's outbreak. +If he had only not spoken as he had! If things had only gone on between +Betty and him as they had been going--calmly, quietly; yes, she confessed +it now, really pleasantly. + +She had come to think of the mining man's attention as an undoubted aid +to her placid life. Her rides with him, and their association in other +ways, their conversations on various subjects had been of greater moment +in establishing her peace of mind than Betty had realized. + +She faced that fact--alone in her own room now--with fuller appreciation +of what Joe Hurley had come to mean to her. + +She was an utterly honest girl. She had faced a terrible and +soul-racking situation before and come to a decision which she had held +to through all the months since she had left school. + +Just what did Joe Hurley mean to Betty Hunt? + +Her first half-fear of Joe, a real dislike of his presumed character, +had melted before a broader understanding of the man and his aims. Joe +was her brother's friend and the chief supporter of Hunt's earnest work +among these people. First of all Betty had begun to like Joe because he +so generously aided the parson. + +Her appreciation of the underlying strata of Joe's character had grown +from day to day of personal association with him. He was a man who would +ultimately achieve big things. She felt this to be his dominant trait. +Yet he had tenderness, generosity, wit, and a measure of "book learning" +of which last she eagerly approved. + +Under ordinary conditions--Betty Hunt admitted this frankly now--she would +have been as strongly attracted by Joe Hurley, once she had got over her +first doubt of his surface qualities, as by any young man she had ever +associated with. + +She did not question her own judgment in Joe's case, no matter how far +wrong the unsophisticated school girl had been to give her heart into +the keeping of another who had seemed a much more charming man! + +Andy Wilkenson--sophisticated, smiling, tender, with all the graces of +person and intellect that any young girl could wish--had set himself to +win Betty Hunt. His intentions had been perfectly honorable, in the +sense thus used. + +Andy had urged marriage--an immediate, if secret, marriage--from the very +first. And there was reason for secrecy. Betty wished to finish her +course at Grandhampton Hall. Aunt Prudence must not know of this great, +new thing that had come into Betty's life. Even Ford must not be told. + +For, after all, the girl realized that she was very young--much younger, +even, it seemed, than Andy Wilkenson. Andy was so much more sensible +than she! + +Betty feared she could not keep her mind sufficiently on her studies to +stand well at the end of the semester if she was not utterly sure of +Andy. Once married to him, of course, Andy would be hers entirely! No +other woman could ever mean anything to him if the unsuspicious, +broken-down old minister in a neighboring town joined them in holy +bonds. + +Aunt Prudence would forgive her when it was all over and she went home +with her diploma and her marriage certificate in her trunk. It would be +absolutely wicked to disturb poor Aunt Prudence by a letter either +announcing the engagement, which was for a very brief term, or her +marriage. For Betty's elderly relative was ill--worse than either Betty +or her brother dreamed of at the time. + +The opportunities Betty had to be with Andy were not many. The rules of +the Hall were very strict. Even her introduction to the young man from +the West had been clandestine. Unknown to Betty, Wilkenson, learning all +he could about certain girls in her set at the school, had selected +Betty Hunt deliberately as his mark. + +Betty's school fees were paid by an old aunt who was reputed very rich. +The aunt was known to be devoted to her. All that she had was sure to be +Betty's when Aunt Prudence died. Wilkenson had even gone so far as to +learn much more particularly about the state of Aunt Prudence Mason's +health than Betty herself knew. + +One item only escaped Andy Wilkenson's cunning mind. It was not until +they had been married and Wilkenson was driving Betty back to the Hall +by unfrequented roads late in the afternoon that the small but appalling +oversight on his part broke upon his understanding. + +"You know, girlie, I haven't got much money. I came East yere"--how Betty +had loved that drawl then--"to get me a stake. I did a fool thing and +threw away--just threw away--my bank roll out in Crescent City." + +"Oh, _money_!" replied Betty with fine scorn. "You can go to work at +something, Andy, and earn more." + +"Ye-as," he agreed in a tone that might have revealed a good deal to a +more sophisticated person than the girl who had so recently been Betty +Hunt, "so I can. But I may not make any good connection before you get +out of that school. And then I'd like us to go back West. I'm known out +there. A man can always do better in his own stamping-grounds." + +"Oh, the West must be wonderful," murmured Betty, with clasped hands. + +"Yep. But no place is wonderful unless you've got a good stake. Now, how +about it, Betty? This old aunt of yours is pretty well fixed, eh?" + +The girl was startled. "Wealthy? I think so. Aunt Prudence has been very +kind to me." + +"She'll keep on being kind to you, I reckon?" + +"Of course! The dear soul. You'll just love her, Andy." + +"Maybe. But I don't think I'll risk trying her out. Not just yet. She's +pretty sick, anyway, isn't she?" + +Betty told him that Aunt Prudence was feeble. The girl did not know at +that time how serious the woman's malady was. Only on the day following +did the telegram come recalling her to Amberly! + +"Anyway," Wilkenson observed, after some thought, "you're her heir, +Betty." For a second time the girl was startled by his speech. She began +to peer at him now in the dusk in a puzzled fashion. + +"What I'm aimin' at," said Wilkenson quite calmly, "is that we'd better +keep all this quiet until Auntie goes over the divide. No use stirring +up possible objections. She'll leave you her money, you say. We'll take +that money and go back West. I know a place I can buy in Crescent City +that will pay big returns. I will let the pasteboards alone, myself. I +always get foolish if I deal 'em wild instead of for the house. We'll +cut a swath out there, Betty, that'll make 'em sit up and take notice. +Sure thing!" + +"Andy! What are you talking about?" asked the incredulous girl. +"Auntie's money---- It's all invested. I know it is. It's tied up." + +"Shucks! we can untie it," and Wilkenson laughed. "No banker's knots +mean much to me. And four or five per cent. interest ain't a patch on +what I'll make for you when we get to going." + +"But, Andy," she said weakly, "I know all about Auntie's will. I have +even read it. She made it years ago when Ford and I were little. And she +is a woman who never changes her mind. Ford has papa's little fortune. +Aunt Prudence gives me her property; but I can spend only the income +from it until I am thirty." + +"What's that?" His tone made her jump. "Thirty?" Then he thought. "Well, +shucks, honey," he drawled, "you're a married woman now. That makes you +practically of age in this State, and the courts----" + +"It makes no difference, Andy. The will is made that way for that very +purpose," the girl said frankly. + +"For what purpose?" + +"So that--that my husband cannot touch the principal. Until I am thirty I +cannot touch it myself." + +An oath--a foul, blistering expression--parted the man's lips. In the +deepening gloom of the evening she could see his face change to a mask +of indignant disappointment. She did not shrink from him. She did not +plead with him. In that dragging minute, Andy had stopped the car with a +jerk, Betty understood everything about this Westerner. And from that +instant had germinated and grown all the hatred and fear of the West and +its people that Betty Hunt had betrayed when first her brother had +suggested the journey to Canyon Pass. + +She had stepped out of the car. She had torn in small pieces the paper +the old minister had given her. She had drawn from her finger the plain +band Wilkenson had placed upon it, which she must have hidden in any +case, and thrown it from her into the bushes beside the way. + +Then Betty Hunt had commanded Andrew Wilkenson never to speak to her +again--never to try to see, write, or otherwise communicate with her. She +walked away from him. She heard the roar of the engine after a moment +and knew he turned the car and drove away. + +And that had been the end of Betty's romance. She had not seen the +Westerner again. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX--A GOOD DEAL OF A MAN + + +During the ensuing weeks the cabaret singer went often to see Betty at +the hotel. They even rode together, for Joe Hurley suddenly became so +busy at the Great Hope Mine that he was forced to excuse himself, so he +said, from accompanying the Eastern girl on those pleasant jaunts which +both had so enjoyed. + +The two girls actually enjoyed each other's society and found more than +a riding habit in which to feel a mutual interest. The friendship grew +out of a hunger in the hearts of both Nell and Betty. + +The parson did not make a third in their rambles, nor was he often in +sight when Nell called on Betty. The latter would not have encouraged +any intimacy between the mining-camp girl and Hunt under any +circumstances. She did not dream that her brother felt more than passing +interest in the half-wild Nell. + +The latter never attended the services held in Tolley's old dance hall. +But the Passonians in general came to accept the religious exercises as +an institution and supported them fairly in point of contributions and +attendance. There was yet, however, strong opposition to the parson and +his work. Nor did it all center around Boss Tolley. + +Nell, soon after the beginning of her acquaintance with Betty, stopped +singing "This Is No Place for a Minister's Son" and took up no other +ditty aimed in any particular at the Reverend Willett Ford Hunt and his +work. + +As for Hunt himself, he went forward, accepting both praise and blame +with equal equanimity. But he began to be worried secretly about Joe +Hurley. + +Hunt supplemented the morning preaching with a Sunday school in the +afternoon and a general service in the evening, at which he usually gave +a helpful talk on more secular lines than his morning sermon. + +Hunt would have been glad to have had more and better singing; but +although Rosabell Pickett did her best, the song service was far from +satisfactory. The parson never passed Colorado Brown's place in the +evening and heard Nell's sweet voice that he was not covetous. He would +never be satisfied--but he whispered this not even to Betty--until he +heard that voice leading his congregation in the meeting room. + +The rougher element that had at first attended the meetings mainly out +of curiosity soon drifted away. + +Hunt was not, however, above carrying his work out into the highways and +byways of the town. If the men would not come to his services, he +carried a measure of his helpful efforts to them. He did more than visit +the homes of Canyon Pass. He went, especially at the noon hour, to where +the men were at work. + +Hunt never made himself offensive. He did not join the workmen at the +mines or washings as a parson, but as another man, interested in their +labor and in themselves. + +Once a mule-drawn ore wagon broke down on the road to the ore-crushers. +It blocked the way of other teams. The parson took off his coat, helped +raise the wagon-body so the axle could be blocked, and aided in getting +on another wheel in place of the broken one. + +A man working alone in a ditch some distance from the Oreode was so +unfortunate as to bring a rock down and get caught by the leg. His +shouts for help were first heard by Hunt, who was striding along the +wagon track. Without other aid the parson pried up the rock and drew the +man out from under it. Then he carried the fellow, with his lacerated +leg, to his shack, where he lived with his partner; and between the +partner and Hunt the injured man was nursed as long as he needed +attention at all. + +This incident was the spark that started the idea of the hospital for +Canyon Pass in Hunt's mind. He began to talk hospital to everybody, even +to Slickpenny Norris. The banker threw up his hands and began to squeal +at last. + +"That's just it! That's just it!" he cried. "I knew one thing would lead +to another if a parson come into this town. I told that crazy Joe Hurley +so. He had no business ever to have brought you here." + +"What has my coming to Canyon Pass got to do with it?" Hunt asked +mildly. "The need of a hospital--there are always accidents happening at +the mines--was here long before I came. If a man is hurt badly he dies +before help can get here. Doctor Peterby is no surgeon--and you know, Mr. +Norris, he is not always to be trusted. This towns needs a place where +an injured man can get surgical treatment and proper nursing." + +"I don't see why," muttered Norris. "We were getting along quite well +enough before you butted in." + +Hurley, however, agreed with his friend. In spite of the fact that he +seemed to have "fallen from grace" a good bit, the owner of the Great +Hope was strong for all secular improvement of the town, whatever may +have been his private emotions regarding the religion that Hunt +represented. The movement for a hospital took form and grew. + +It was not these things, however, that endeared Hunt to the hearts of +the rougher element of Canyon Pass. And in time--and that before +fall--some of the toughest hard-rock men and muckers working in the mines +and at the Eureka Washings openly praised the Reverend Willett Ford +Hunt. + +Hunt one noon had given the men who gathered in a quiet place to eat +their lunches a little talk on first aid to the injured. He had sent to +Denver for several first-aid kits and was now going about from mine to +mine explaining the more important uses of the articles in the box. + +The men understood the helpfulness of this. Neglected wounds meant +blood-poisoning, one of the most painful scourges a prospector or miner +working far beyond the reach of surgeon and hospital, can have. It was +well to know, too, how to make a proper tourniquet, and how to lay a +bandage so that it would hold well. + +The whistle blew and the great engine was started. The men drifted away +to their several jobs. There were three pipes at work tearing down the +bank on the upper bench at the Eureka Washings, and others below. The +force of the water thrown from the nozzles of these pipes rocked the +mighty hydraulic "guns" and caused the men astride of them to hold on +with both hands. It took a husky fellow to guide that stream spouting +from between his knees. + +Hunt had returned the kit to the superintendent's office and climbed to +the upper bench, intending to go over the highland to the Great Hope +Mine, which was nearer the West Fork River. Hi Brownell, who straddled +the middle gun up here, risked waving a cordial hand at the parson when +he saw the latter departing. The noise of the hurtling streams drowned +Hi's voice, of course. + +Just as Hunt returned a smiling salute to the young fellow--one in whom +the parson was deeply interested, for Hi was really a worth-while +boy--the accident happened that was fated to mark this day as one long to +be remembered at Canyon Pass. Incidentally the occasion, more than any +other one thing, brought about the establishment of the new hospital. + +The whine and splash of the streams of water drowned most other sounds. +But of a sudden, as Hunt was turning his back on the scene, he heard a +sharp crack--a sound that would have penetrated the thunderous rumble of +a railroad train. + +Hunt wheeled. He saw Hi Brownell thrown high into the air as though from +a viciously bucking broncho, come down sprawling, and the savage stream +from his pipe strike the man and carry him, as though he were a leaf on +a torrent, into the cavity in the bank, against which the nozzle of the +pipe was aimed. + +The flapping limbs and struggling torso of Brownell were visible for a +moment only; then down upon the spot roared soil, gravel, and larger +stones, of which the bank's strata were built. + +Unguided, the shooting stream from the gun swept first one way along the +bench, then the other. It corrugated the face of the bank deeply for +yards in either direction. For a moment Hunt saw again the struggling +body of the injured man at the edge of the fallen rubble. Then came +another slide to cover it completely! + +The broken hydraulic gun fell over on its side. The parting of some +section of it was what had thrown Brownell into the air and into the +path of its stream. + +But before the other gunners on the bench who saw Brownell's accident +could shut off their streams, Hunt had acted. Some muckers tried to run +in to seize Brownell or dig him out from under the gravel that had +fallen, but the stream from the writhing pipe swept them aside like +chips. Half a dozen were rolling in the mud of the bench. + +Hunt sprang directly for the seat of the trouble. That hose-pipe had to +be controlled before a thing could be done to help the buried Brownell. +Precious moments were lost signaling to the engineer below to shut off +power. + +Hunt had not played football on his college team for nothing. He made an +extremely low "tackle," for he went down on his knees and then slid +along through the mud to grapple with the writhing pipe that had broken +away from its fastenings. He got hold of it and wrestled with it for a +few seconds as two men might wrestle on the mat. When the other men came +running from below Hunt had conquered the formidable thing, and the +stream was shooting into the air, where all the harm it did was to +shower some of the men as it fell back to earth. + +For thirty seconds or more he held it so, until the stream was shut off +below. The others ran for the pile that had overwhelmed Brownell. They +dug into it with their bare hands, got hold of one leg, and dragged him +forth like a wet rag out of a pan of dishwater! + +He was alive; nor were there many bones broken. But he was a terrible +sight, and they had to work over him for some minutes before he breathed +again. Hunt went at this task, too, as coolly as did the superintendent. +That first-aid kit came in very handily at this juncture. + +The men stood around for a little while and watched and talked. The +accident had come near being a tragedy. + +"Believe me," said one rough fellow, "that parson is a good deal of a +man. I'm for him, strong!" + +"You'd even go to church for him, would you, Jack?" chuckled his mate. + +"Church? I'd go to a hotter place than that for him!" was the prompt and +emphatic reply. + + + + +CHAPTER XX--MURDER WILL OUT + + +Joe Hurley had lost none of his admiration for his college friend whom +he had encouraged to come West. He still believed the Reverend Willett +Ford Hunt was the very man to find the heart of Canyon Pass. Nor did +events as they developed disprove his pre-judgment of the result of +Hunt's coming. + +But it must be confessed a sour note had come into the life of the owner +of the Great Hope. He was a worker; he was energetic; he never under any +circumstances neglected business--not even when he had been most +attentive to Betty Hunt. But he now had little joy in his work and +looked for recreation to a means he had eschewed for the most part since +the Easterners had arrived. + +Like most men of his class and upbringing, the ex-cow-puncher found +satisfaction for a certain daring trait in his character at the gambling +table. The coarser forms of pleasure in the honkytonks did not attract +Joe Hurley. He danced occasionally with the better class of girls; he +never drank more than he thought was good for him--and he carried his +drink well; but when he "sat in" at a game of stud poker or went up +against the wheel--roulette was popular with the Passonians--he admitted +in his saner moments that he "didn't know when he had enough." The wild +streak in the fellow showed through the veneer of repression as it had +when he was in college. + +Hunt could not feel as lenient now toward these escapades as he once +had. Not alone had the Easterner's outlook on life become more serious; +but after five years Joe Hurley, he thought, should have "grown up." He +was, however, too wise to utter a single word in opposition to Joe's +renewed course in moral retrogression. He took Sam Tubbs to task when he +met that old reprobate staggering home from the saloons and gave him a +tongue-lashing that Sam admitted afterward made his wife's nagging seem +like a cradle lullaby. Hunt faced down Slickpenny Norris on the open +street, to the delight of the bystanders, over the banker's +niggardliness in opposing the building and equipment of the hospital. +The parson had been known to seize upon two well-grown young fellows +fighting in a vacant lot to the delight of their fellows, knock their +heads together resoundingly and send each home "with a flea in his ear." +But he had not a word of admonition it seemed for Joe Hurley. + +Yet Hunt was troubled about his friend. He feared Betty knew something +about the reason for the change in the mine owner. But here again he was +silent. He knew his sister well--too well to try to gain her confidence +on any matter which she would not give gratuitously. + +Hunt had been much too busy at the time when Hurley began to withdraw +from Betty's companionship to notice the gradual drifting apart of the +two. When the brother awoke to the fact that his friend and his sister +seemed to be mere acquaintances again, Betty had found a close companion +in Nell Blossom. + +Under certain circumstances this latter fact might have encouraged Hunt +to consider his own influence with Nell as increasing; but by this time +he had gained more than a casual acquaintance with the cabaret singer's +character. Joe Hurley had not written too strongly about Nell's +stubbornness. Hunt had undertaken in several ways to break down the wall +the girl had raised between them. She fought him off with all the vigor +of a wildcat and without much more politeness than one of those felines +would have shown. + +He met her at Mother Tubbs'--not by intention; but he was rather +frequently there to confer with the uncultured but very sensible old +woman. Nell snubbed him, or scorned him, or was downright impudent to +him, just as her mood chanced to be. He had to warn the old woman to pay +no attention to the girl's attitude or there would have been a flare-up +between the two. And Hunt very well knew that while Nell lived with +Mother Tubbs she was pretty safe. + +He heartily approved, too, of her intimacy with Betty. He could not +gauge the influence Betty was having on the self-willed girl; but he had +confidence in his sister, and he knew Nell would only be helped by the +association and that Betty would not be injured. + +The opposition of Boss Tolley and his gang was the last thing to trouble +the placidity of Parson Hunt's soul. They snapped and barked, but had as +yet come to no close-quarters since Tolley's adventure with the +pepper-besprinkled Bible. That tale had convulsed the Passonians with +mirth, and even when weeks later it was retold, it brought ready laughs +from the citizens. + +It was now fall, a golden-and-red autumn that enthralled the visitors +from the East when they looked abroad to the hills of a morning. Even +Betty confessed that the glories of the Berkshires at the same season +were surpassed by this sight. She had come now to appreciate the rude +and bold lines of the mountains and the gaudy color schemes of +frost-bitten shrubbery intermixed with the emerald of the _Coniferae_. + +The early brightening of the face of nature by these autumnal tints +foretold for the natives of Canyon Pass an early winter. To make this +assurance doubly sure, old Steve Siebert and Andy McCann came wandering +back to the Pass weeks ahead of their scheduled time. + +It was a fair enough day when the two old prospectors came in--McCann in +the morning and Siebert along toward night. In all the time they had +been absent, after getting out of the canyon itself, they had not been +in sight of each other. One had prospected east of the Runaway, and the +other west. Their activities in fact had been at least a hundred miles +apart. But both had seen signs--unmistakable signs--of approaching winter. + +They met as usual the amused inquiries of the Passonians regarding the +"ten-strike" they had been expected to make. Was there due to be a +stampede for the scene of the claims they had staked out? Had they +brought in samples of the "real stuff" that would start a regular +Cripple Creek boom somewhere out in the Topaz? + +The two old men grinned, their watery eyes blinking, and "stood the +gaff" as patiently as they always did. Why did they spend half the year +in the ungodly loneliness of the desert places, and in the end bring +nothing back with them? Not even an additional coating of tan, for their +leathery faces and hands were already so darkened that the sun and wind +had no effect upon them. + +"You old duffers ain't right in your minds," said Judson to Andy McCann. +"Just as loco as you can be. Ye never did make a strike and ye never +will----" + +"Lots you know about it, Bill," grumbled McCann, his jaws moving +stiffly. + +"Well, you never did, did you?" demanded the storekeeper, with twinkling +eyes. + +"If you were yere twenty years ago----" + +"You know derned well I was, Andy," put in Judson. "Reckon I was. And +before." + +"You recommember the flood then?" + +"I ain't lost my mem'ry," muttered Judson. + +"All right. Keep _that_ in yer mind," said Andy, shaking his head in +senile fashion. "There was a discovery made that year that you--nor +nobody else in Canyon Pass--knowed anything about. Talk about the mother +lode! Well!" + +"Is that so?" cried the storekeeper eagerly. "Then why wasn't it worked? +I knowed you and Steve brought in samples of the right stuff; but----" + +"Steve," snarled McCann, his whole manner changing. "That derned rat? +Him? He didn't have no more to do with findin' that vein----Huh! Huh!" He +coughed, fell silent, went out of the store, deaf to any further +questions. + +It was Joe Hurley, standing with Hunt on Main Street, who was first to +welcome Steve Siebert as he came along, riding his lean mare and towing +the burro that looked as though it might have been carved rudely out of +desert rock. + +"Well, old-timer, I certainly am glad to see you," the mining man said. +"What luck?" + +"Oh, so-so," croaked the prospector. + +"Ain't going to tell us you worked all summer just to get free air?" and +Joe chuckled. + +"Sumpin' like it," replied Siebert, and grinned toothlessly. + +"You do beat my time! Goin' to come over to the Great Hope? There's a +job for you." + +"Mighty nice of you, Joe. I'll come," said the old man, nodding. + +"And not a darn thing to show for all your pickin' and smellin' about +the Topaz since spring?" + +"Not what you'd call a bonanza." + +"Youbetcha!" ejaculated Hurley. He turned with a grin to Hunt. "Meet +Parson Hunt, Steve. We've done more in the Pass this summer than you +have on the desert. We've got us a real parson, and we're aimin' to have +a sure-enough church." + +"That's a good word," agreed Steve solemnly, leaning to shake Hunt's +hand. The old man's palm was as dry and scaly as a lizard's back. +"There's a heap o' folks yere that need religion. I understand that +derned Andy McCann's got back." + +The gibe was obvious. Joe grinned with appreciation. + +"Yep," he said. "And he hasn't got any more to show for his summer's +work than you have." + +"Him!" snarled Steve. "Of course he ain't. That dumb-head wouldn't find +gold in the mint. No, sir! Never did find any----" + +"I thought he did make a ten-strike once, but that the slide twenty +years ago knocked his claim into a cocked-hat?" + +"What? Him? Does he say so?" ejaculated Siebert, his wrinkled, tanned +countenance flaming angrily. + +"I heard tell," and Joe chuckled. + +"He's a plumb liar. He didn't find any such thing. If there was any such +discovery made in them days, it was me that done it. Youbetcha! But +_him_! Huh! Anyway, it's all buried deeper 'n the Pit--take it from me," +and, grumbling, Steve Siebert rode on. + +"Believe me, Willie," said Hurley, "there's a case for you. Try to get +those two together." + +"These two old men are enemies?" asked Hunt quietly. + +"That's no name for it. They hate each other as only two fellers can who +once were the closest friends. Old Steve and Andy were once as close as +twins. But they tell me for twenty years they have been snarling at and +back-biting each other something scandalous. If you want to introduce +love and kindness into the hearts of Canyon Pass folks, Willie, just +give those two old ruffians a whirl." + +He laughed--not the kind of laugh he would have uttered some weeks +before. There was a sneering note in Joe Hurley's voice now when he +spoke of Hunt's work and the better things of life. The parson noted it +now as he had often noticed it of late, but he said nothing in comment +at this time. He merely observed, before separating from Joe to return +to the hotel for supper: + +"Drop into the meeting room to-night, Joe. You haven't shown much +interest in the Men's Club lately, and the work should have your +approval. Besides, there are certain business matters that must be +discussed at once." + +"Well," said Joe gruffly. + +He did not promise to attend. He did not attend. + +"I wonder what kept Joe away?" Hunt ventured to Judson, as they, the +last of the company, left the meeting room and the parson locked the +door. That was never left unlocked since Nell Blossom's trick with +Mother Tubbs' Bible. "I expected him to-night to give us his views on +that matter." + +The old storekeeper turned to him and grinned. "Joe's mighty busy, I +reckon," he said. + +"In the evening?" + +"This evening, youbetcha!" + +"In just what way, Judson? What's up your sleeve?" + +"My funnybone," chuckled the storekeeper. "And I have to laugh. Just +about once in so often Joe seems to lose ev'ry mite of sense he was born +with. He thinks he can beat the man that got the first patent out on +stud poker." + +"Ah! I know Joe used to like cards. When he was East. But now----Is it as +bad as you intimate, Judson?" + +"Some worse, I'm free to say," declared the old man. "Joe's gone up +against Colorado Brown's dealer, Miguel, several times lately. They get +up a round game of a few fellers--all friends. But Miguel is always +playin' for the house. He's a wonder. 'Last Card Mike' they sometimes +call him. He seems to be able to read clean through the backs of any +pack o' cards you put up to him. He's a wizard--no mistake." + +"You mean that Joe is losing money in this game?" asked Hunt, with some +apprehension. + +"Me, I'd just as soon bet on flies with their shoes stuck in molasses as +to play stud. Youbetcha!" returned Judson, with a chuckle. + +Hunt separated from the storekeeper and walked slowly toward the Wild +Rose. He passed Colorado's place; then he turned back. It is a matter of +much moment for one man to interfere in another's private affairs, and +no one realized this fact better than the Reverend Willett Ford Hunt. +His office could not excuse any unasked advice or intervention in +Hurley's chosen course, no matter how much Hunt desired to restrain his +friend. + +He hesitated again when he faced the swinging doors. There was not much +noise inside. This was not a Saturday night and the amusement places +along Main Street were not crowded. Most of the Passonians who wasted +their money in the several places of this character spent it all and +spent it quick. The mid-week nights were lean for the dive keepers. + +It was not lack of courage that restrained Mr. Hunt from preaching a +general revival and a bitter war against the cohorts of the devil in +this town. Merely, the time was not yet ripe. Sometimes he feared that +it never would be ripe. Certainly he had not yet reached the heart of +Canyon Pass. Since the first shack had been built here at the junction +of the two forks, the enemy had been in power; and it was now well +entrenched. + +But to-night Hunt was impressed by the feeling that his friend needed +him. Joe was slipping away from him. For some unexplained reason the +very man who had brought him here to the Pass and coaxed the idea of a +spiritual uplift of the place into germination, was backsliding. + +The parson began to feel that he could not stand by and see this thing +go on. He pushed through the flaps of the door. He had seldom entered +this, or any of the other saloons, in the evening. + +His entrance now, however, did not serve to startle any of the habitues. +Brown himself came forward to shake hands with the parson. Some of the +players at the green-covered tables nodded to Hunt. The three-piece +orchestra in the dance hall at the back was droning out a fox-trot. Nell +was not singing. The principal interest seemed to be about a corner +table at which the parson saw Joe Hurley sitting. + +After a word to Brown in greeting, the parson walked over to this corner +table and joined the group standing about it. Hurley looked up, grinned, +and said: + +"Hullo, Willie! Want me?" + +"I've something to ask you--by and by, when you are done." + +"Looks like an all-night session," returned Hurley, immediately giving +his attention to the cards again. "Mike, here, is trying to skin me +alive and the sheep is bleatin'. Deal 'em, Mike." + +Hunt said nothing more; but he remained. By the grim set of Joe's lips +and the silence of the company about the table, he knew that the moment +was unpropitious for any insistence on his part that his friend give him +his attention. Yet he had the feeling that something was going to +happen, that his place was here at this gambling table rather than at +the hotel with Betty. + +The event that he subconsciously expected, however, came from outside. +There was a sudden clamor at the door, the flaps swung in sharply, and +several men entered. Smithy, Judson's gangling young clerk, was the most +noticeable member of the new group. He had a cut over his right eye, a +puff on his cheek-bone that could have been made by nothing but a heavy +fist, and when he spoke a crimson gap in his upper jaw betrayed the +absence of two teeth. + +"What's happened to you, Smithy?" demanded Colorado Brown, coming +forward quickly. It would not be to the benefit of the house to have the +gamblers disturbed at this moment. "Somebody punch you?" + +"I'll thay they did!" lisped Smithy. He was half sobbing, but he was mad +clear through. + +"They didn't improve your looks none," said Colorado. + +"Never mind muh lookth," said Smithy. "I want to know what you fellers +think of this?" + +"I just told you. Whoever done it didn't make you any handsomer," +interposed the proprietor of the hall. "Now, if you've had a fight +outside, don't bring it in here. We're plumb peaceable here to-night, we +are." + +"Wait till you hear what the kid's got to say, Colorado," put in one of +those that had entered with Smithy. + +"Spit it out!" advised the proprietor. + +"I want to know what Mr. Joe Hurley thinks of this?" Smithy managed to +make plain. "What do you think they are saying about Nell Blossom?" + +"Nell Blossom?" + +Hurley's voice did not join the general chorus which repeated the +cabaret singer's name. But he looked up, his gaze met that of the +parson, and a lightning glance of understanding passed between them. + +"What's eatin' on you, Smithy?" demanded Colorado Brown. + +"Up in Tolley's. I was just in there. I heard Tolley and Tom Hicks and +some others of his gang talkin'. I couldn't help hearin' what was said, +and when I went for 'em this--this is what I got." + +He almost choked on the words. Joe Hurley rose up as though a slow +spring uncoiled beneath him. + +"What did they say, Smithy?" he asked, and the tone of his voice seemed +to quell all other sounds. + +"Why, the skunks!" cried Smithy, "they said Nell Blossom shot Dick the +Devil last spring and flung him over the wall of the canyon into Runaway +River." + + + + +CHAPTER XXI--THE DRAMA OF A LIE + + +The tense silence that followed Smithy's half-sobbing speech marked the +poignancy of the moment and the utter stupefaction of his hearers. To +all but Joe Hurley and Hunt such an accusation as this aimed at Nell +Blossom was entirely unlooked for. If the crowd understood anything at +all, they understood that Boss Tolley, if he had started the scandal, +courted annihilation! + +Indeed the first question fired at Smithy following his statement was: + +"Why didn't you fill 'em with lead, Smithy?" + +"I didn't have no gun," replied the grocery clerk. "And Tom Hicks downed +me before I could get at Tolley." + +"Did he say it, Smithy?" demanded Colorado Brown. + +"'Twas him says he knows all about it. Says that Nell killed Dick +Beckworth." + +They talked. But it was Joe Hurley who acted. He threw down the hand of +cards he held. + +"Mike," he said to the Mexican, Miguel Santos, "you know I ain't in the +habit of betraying cold feet. But I got some business to tend to. +Colorado," he added to the proprietor, "I'll settle when I come in +again. I'm in a hurry." + +With the quickness of a cat he slipped through the crowd about the table +and Smithy and shot for the door. But the parson was at his elbow before +he could get through the portal. + +"You'd better keep out of this, Willie," Hurley said between his teeth. +"There's goin' to be the devil to pay in a minute." + +"It is as much my business as it is yours, Joe," said Hunt, in step with +his long stride on the side-walk where they headed toward the Grub +Stake. "And we must do something before those fellows back there wake +up." + +"What?" was Joe's startled ejaculation. + +"That stupid Smithy has started something. Some of those fellows will be +out after us in a minute, and if they get to the Grub Stake before we +straighten things out, there will be trouble." + +"Trouble? Youbetcha there'll be trouble! And you'd better keep out of +it, Willie." + +"I mean to stop it," said Hunt softly. + +But Joe Hurley did not hear him. He turned abruptly and burst into the +main entrance of the Grub Stake. It did not take Joe Hurley's trained +glance to see that something had happened here. Hunt sensed, too, that +if there had already been trouble, more of the same kind was expected. + +The girl who usually presided at the door--the girl who parked your gun +if you wanted to play, or your spurs if you wanted to dance and gave you +checks in return for them--had got out of the way. Several of the gaming +tables were empty. There was not a man standing in front of the bar, and +Boss Tolley's assistants behind the "rosewood" had "stepped out." + +Hunt knew at first glance that some of the toughest men in the camp were +gathered here--either about the remaining tables or with Boss Tolley at +the far end of the bar by the door of his tiny office where the safes +stood. That office, Joe had told the parson, was an arsenal. There was a +bodyguard around the dive keeper of at least six men. + +Joe Hurley saw that all this group was armed. A flash of the several men +at the gaming tables assured the mining man that they might be neutral, +save perhaps the dealers for the house. But he realized that Tolley's +gang was primed for mischief. It was a wonder that Smithy, the poor +fool, had got out of the place alive! + +Hunt had pushed ahead of Joe the moment they stepped inside the door. +They were both big men, and Joe's advantage of height could not hide the +parson's bulk. In a flash, before a word was spoken, Joe took two long +strides sideways and got behind the first table, which was empty. And +he, by this act, left Hunt out of the line of any bullet aimed by the +gang standing at the end of the bar at himself. + +A gun had not yet been drawn, however, on either side. Nor had a word +been spoken by either Tolley and his gang or by the two men who had +entered so suddenly. Still, not a man in the barroom missed the +significance of Joe Hurley's strategic move. + +Sam Tubbs, withered old scarecrow that he was, had been facing the door +at a near-by table. It was evident that Steve Siebert, the returned +desert rat, had been treating Tubbs to more liquor than was good for +him. But Sam had some wit left. + +Joe's action forecast the popping of guns--instantly! Sam had seen too +many such brawls to play the part of "innocent bystander" if he could +help it. He let his feet slide out from under him, shot down in the +chair on the small of his back, and passed out of sight under the table +with all the celerity of an imp in a pantomime. + +Steve Siebert, however, did not even remove his pipe from his lips, but +wheeled in his chair and glared from Joe to Tolley and his bodyguard. +The old man swung a heavy, old-style six-gun low on his hip. But he did +not touch it--then. + +Joe's attitude was as wary as that of a puma about to spring. He +crouched. By one quick motion he could overturn the table, drop behind +it, and use it as a bulwark. But he must move quickly enough to escape, +perhaps, seven bullets from as many guns. + +It was Joe Hurley who first spoke. + +"Tolley!" he said fiercely but clearly, "I warned you what I'd do if you +repeated that lie about the girl. You remember, well enough, you hound! +Stand out from those bootlickers of yours and take your medicine." + +The challenge got no response from Tolley but a grimace like that of a +wolf in a trap. He did not make a motion to draw his own gun. He was too +wise to do that in any event, for he knew he could not beat Joe to it! +And then--what did he subsidize these gunmen for if not for such an +emergency as this? + +"Open your trap, you hound!" commanded Joe. "If you won't fight, speak!" + +"Wait a moment." + +The parson had actually not halted at all when he entered with Joe +Hurley. He had merely slowed up. He was approaching Tolley and his men +down the long length of the bar. But when he spoke Tom Hicks half drew +his gun. + +"Mr. Tolley," Hunt said in the same clear but quiet voice, "will +undoubtedly explain and apologize for what we understand he has said +about the young woman in question. Come now, Mr. Tolley! you are ready +to take back your words, aren't you? You have no more proof, have you, +of your--er--mis-statement than you had several weeks ago when you +discussed the affair with Mr. Hurley in my hearing?" + +"What are you butting in for?" returned Tolley with a threatening growl. + +"For the sake of peace, Mr. Tolley," explained the parson determinedly. + +"Get back, Willie!" Joe ordered from the background. + +He dared not draw his gun, for if he did Hunt would be right in the line +of fire again. With a single motion Tom Hicks could get into action. + +"You derned buttinsky!" spat out Tolley vengefully. "Mind what you are +doing, or you'll stop lead." + +"That will not make a lie the truth, Mr. Tolley," rejoined Hunt, now +squarely between the group of desperadoes and Joe Hurley's position. + +"You mean to say I'm a liar?" blustered Tolley. + +"I mean to say that the story you have repeated about the young woman +and the man you say has disappeared has no foundation in fact and that +you have in your possession no proof to back your statement. If that is +calling you a liar, Mr. Tolley, then consider yourself so called!" + +There was a little stir among the listeners at the tables--a stir of +approval, and one voice ejaculated: + +"What's it all about?" + +Evidently not all of these men now present had been at hand when Smithy +had taken offense at Tolley's words earlier in the evening which +precipitated this situation. Hunt, without raising his voice at all, +continued: + +"I take it that you have no new evidence of a crime having been +committed? You did not see the man fall? You merely saw the young woman +at the summit of the declivity? Later you recovered a saddle you +recognized from the fallen rubbish? Am I right? Isn't that the extent of +your evidence?" + +"Well! Look yere! I reckon I know what I am talkin' about----" + +"But you do not talk about what you know," interposed Hunt. "To my +personal knowledge--and that of Mr. Hurley--the missing man was not buried +under that heap of rubbish with his horse." + +"Then he went into the river!" cried Tolley. + +Here Joe Hurley put in a very pungent word: + +"And that might easily be true. If you found his horse and removed the +saddle, you might have found the man, too, Tolley, and removed some of +his harness." + +"What's that?" was the startled demand. + +"From the first," Joe said sternly, "I suspected you, Tolley. Your dust +won't hide what you have done. You are altogether too sure the man is +dead--after first reporting that you had heard from him in Denver. + +"In fact, you are too anxious to cast suspicion on another person. Your +conscience--if you have such a thing--is troubling you, Tolley. At least, +your fears have made you try to invent a lie that doesn't work out just +the way you expected it to." + +"I'll show you----" + +"You'll show me nothing, Tolley!" retorted Hurley. "You'll listen--and +these other gentlemen. You got the man's saddle. It is just as probable +that you found his body, as well as that of the horse. And he was known +to wear a money-belt around his waist. He was likewise known to be +well-fixed when he left Canyon Pass. He'd been doing well here. You knew +it, if anybody did. You confess that you rode after the man. And you +confess that you got his saddle. Confess the rest of it, you dog. What +else have you got in your safe that belonged to----" + +Boss Tolley threw caution to the winds at this juncture. Hurley's +scathing denunciation pricked to life in him such personal courage as he +possessed. He flung himself forward with a howl of rage and whipped the +gun from the holster at his hip. + +"Get down, Willie!" shouted Hurley and flung the table on its edge with +a crash, dropping behind it. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII--A FACE IN THE STORM + + +An interruption--a voice as hoarse as the croak of a vulture--rose above +the din of other voices: + +"Tolley! You other fellers! Put 'em up! H'ist 'em!" + +Tolley halted--it seemed in midflight. Even the gun hand of Tom Hicks +relaxed. From the other side of the room old Steve Siebert commanded the +situation--and the group of desperate men. The black muzzle of his gun +gaped like the mouth of a cannon. Hunt did not stand between him and +Tolley's crowd. The old man steadied the barrel of his weapon on the +edge of the table behind which he sat and covered the bunch perfectly. + +"H'ist 'em!" he said again, and as Tolley's gun clattered to the floor +and Hicks thrust back his weapon into his sheath, he added: "I don't aim +to mix in what ain't my business, as a usual thing. But when I see seven +skunks goin' after two boys--an' one o' them a parson and not ironed +a-tall--I reckon on takin' a hand. Put 'em up!" + +The ruffians obeyed. Seven pairs of hands reached for the smoke-begrimed +ceiling. Several startled faces appeared under the archway between the +barroom and the dance hall. One was the desert-bitten countenance of +Andy McCann. He would not have sat to drink in the same room with his +one-time partner; but Steve Siebert's voice had stung McCann to action. +Steve saw him. + +"Andy, you derned old rat!" Steve cried, "shut that office door and lock +it. Then, just frisk them rustlers and remove their irons. There ain't +goin' to be no shootin'. Whatever the row is, it's goin' to be settled +plumb peaceful." + +McCann snarled at the other old pocket-hunter like a tiger cat; but he +obeyed--and not without some enjoyment of the chagrin of Tolley and his +gangsters. + +"It takes us old sourdoughs to be slick," he chuckled, when he had +dumped an armful of guns on an empty table. "You boys ain't dry behind +the ears yet when it comes to shootin' scrapes." + +"There ain't goin' to be no shootin'," repeated Steve Siebert. "Not +'nless them fellers start it with their mouths," and he grinned such a +toothless grin that he almost lost his grip on the pipestem clamped in +one corner of his mouth. + +"Now, what's it all about? What's the row? What gal you talkin' about? +Who's the feller that was killed? I'm sort o' curious." + +Joe Hurley stood erect again. He laughed. + +"Great saltpeter!" he exclaimed, "you certainly are a friend in need, +old-timer." + +"Come on," rejoined Steve. "Let's have the pertic'lars." + +It was the Reverend Willett Ford Hunt who took upon himself the +explanation. + +"Nell Blossom!" cried Steve. "That leetle songbird? You mean to say all +this row is over her?" + +"Mr. Tolley has made the statement that Miss Blossom was the cause of +this Beckworth's death. His horse went over the cliff into the canyon. +Whether or not the man went with it----" + +"He did!" cried Andy McCann, smiting his thigh resoundingly with his +palm. "By gravy! Is that what's eatin' all you fellers?" + +"Say! Who's runnin' this court, I'd like to know?" demanded Steve +Siebert angrily. + +"Aw, shut up--you old lizard," said McCann, flaming at him. "'Tain't no +court. It ain't nothin' like it. Put up your gun. It's all off. Dick the +Devil ain't dead at all. At least he wasn't killed that time he went +over the cliff. He's Dick the Devil sure 'nough, and he's got more luck +than a hanged man." + +"Just what do you mean?" Hunt asked. + +"Why, we seen him--me and that old rat sittin' there with his gun, makin' +goo-goo eyes. Sure! And me and him pulled Dick out of the river. He went +clean over his horse's head and landed in the river--same's a bird. He +might have been drowned if me and that ground owl there hadn't got him +out. But he never said one word about Nell Blossom bein' with him or +havin' anything to do with his comin' down that cliff. No, sir!" + +"Nary a word," agreed the surprised Siebert. "Nary a word." + +"What--what became of him?" stammered Hunt, a great weight lifted from +his heart. + +"He went along with me to the edge of the desert," said Siebert slowly. +"He dried out at my fire that night. Next morning he lit out to hit the +Lamberton trail. That's all I know about Dick." + +"And it's more than I knowed," grunted Andy McCann. "That old rat there +might have garroted Dick for his money. But it sure wasn't Nell Blossom +that croaked Dick the Devil--if he's dead at all." + +Here Hunt stepped between the two old prospectors. It looked as though +somebody had to separate them or there might have been a shooting, after +all! + +But it was Joe Hurley who had the last word. He set up the overturned +table and walked over to the bar. + +"To show that there's no hard feelings," he drawled, "this'll be on me. +Get busy, Tolley, on the right side of this bar. And hereafter, you +think twice before you say anything you're not dead sure of about Nell +Blossom. Somebody'd better drag Sam Tubbs out from under that table. He +don't want to miss this." + +There sounded a sudden rush of heavily shod feet outside the barroom +door. As Hunt had expected, an angry crowd from Colorado Brown's burst +in. + +"Just in season, boys," Hurley continued. "All a mistake about our Nell. +Tolley just proved himself to be as careless with the truth as he always +is. Isn't that so, Tolley?" + +Tolley grunted. + + * * * * * + +The winter weather forecast by the return of Steve Siebert and Andy +McCann from the desert held off the next morning when Betty Hunt and +Nell started on their usual ride into the hills. + +Nell had heard a garbled report but few of the particulars of the +incident which the night before had threatened bloodshed at the Grub +Stake. She knew that the parson had again done something that was sure +to endear him to the Passonians in general. And his courageous act had +been in her cause. But she had failed to learn of the disproval of Dick +Beckworth's reported death. + +She said nothing to Betty about the incident. She had begun to shrink +from discussing the rougher side of the life of Canyon Pass with the +parson's sister. As Joe Hurley would have expressed it, Nell Blossom was +becoming "right gentled" through her association with Betty Hunt. + +Betty herself, in Nell's company, managed to put aside those more +serious thoughts and anxieties of mind that ruffled her natural +composure at other times. Since the day, weeks before, when she had been +forced to wreck Joe Hurley's hope of happiness, the cloud of despondency +that overshadowed her life seemed at times greater than she could live +under. + +Nor could the Eastern girl put aside such thoughts of the Westerner as +at first amazed and startled, then revealed to the honest soul of Betty +Hunt that the unfortunate circumstance in her past life that made it +impossible for her to make Joe happy, likewise barred her own heart from +happiness. + +Wicked as her strict upbringing made the fact seem, she had to admit +that she had fallen under the spell of Joe Hurley's generous character, +that she loved him. She could not deny this discovery, although it +filled her mind with confusion. Wedded to a man she hated and in love +with a man she could not wed! + +In any event, this was a secret--like the other that so disturbed +her--which under no circumstances could she confide to either her brother +or any friend. At first she felt the discovery a degrading one. Brought +up as she had been under the grim puritanism of her Aunt Prudence Mason, +the idea of a married woman admitting that she loved a man other than +the one she was married to was a sin. The idea of divorce was as foreign +to her religious training as was the thought of fratricide. + +She was cheerful on the surface at least when she and Nell rode out of +Canyon Pass and through the East Fork. They climbed the canyon wall on +that side by a tortuous path on which only a burro or a very sure-footed +pony was safe. It was Nell, when they were once on the summit, who +discovered the threat of a weather change. + +The air was very keen. Many of the bushes by the way had shriveled +during the night as though before a furnace blast. + +"Black frost," said the younger girl. "Old Steve and Andy know their +little book. Sam says Steve told him there was a blizzard coming. We +won't ride far to-day, Betty." + +"A blizzard? Only fancy," murmured the Eastern girl. + +She was not much impressed. She had no experience--even of New England +winter storms--to enable her to judge the nature of a storm in these +Western mountains. + +But Nell should have known better than to lead the way into a gulch +which quite shut them in from sight of the surrounding country. A +blizzard is a chancy thing; and often the first storm of a Western +winter is the worst of all. + +They rode to a spring at which deer drank; they saw many tracks, but +there were none of the pretty creatures in sight. Birds fluttered +through the chaparral with strange cries, and the rabbits ran back and +forth as though much disturbed by domestic happenings. + +"I never saw them jacks so queer acting," said Nell thoughtfully. "We'd +better ride home, Betty." + +"Why?" asked the other girl gayly. "You are not afraid they will attack +us, are you?" + +"Not that," and the Western-born young woman smiled. "But there's +something comin', I reckon--just as Steve and Andy say." + +Before they rode up out of the gulch they heard something slashing like +a multitude of knives through the dead leaves overhead. When they rode +out into the open they beheld the thick cloud that had almost reached +the zenith, and out of that cloud came not snow, but ice! + +Fine particles of the sharpest crystal were driven in a thick haze +through the singing air. Nell instantly whipped off her neckcloth and +tied it across her nose and mouth, warning Betty to follow her example. + +"Get this in your lungs, Betty, and you'll have pneumonia as sure as +sure!" she shouted. + +Frightened, they urged their ponies on to the beginning of the rough +path down the canyon wall. Although they were soon somewhat sheltered +from the driving ice-storm there were bare places where the two girls +suffered the full force of the gale. + +"I know a place!" cried Nell in a muffled voice. "We got to hole up till +this stops. Come on!" + +It had grown dark of a sudden. Nell pulled her pony off the path, and he +picked his way daintily to a cavity in the wall. Here an overhanging +rock offered some shelter. At least, the girls were out of the steady +beat of the storm. + +They dismounted and got behind the ponies, between their warm bodies and +the rock itself. If Betty was the more frightened of the two, she showed +it no more than did Nell Blossom. + +The air became thicker and the whine of the wind rose to a shriek which +all but drowned their voices when they tried to communicate with each +other. It was such a manifestation of the storm king as Betty Hunt had +never seen before. + +They were but a little way off the path. Suddenly both girls, in spite +of the wind, heard the clatter of shod hoofs. Another horse was coming +down the path. In a moment they dimly saw the looming figure of a man +leading the animal. + +"Who is it?" gasped Betty, but if Nell heard the question she did not +answer. + +Nell clutched Betty's wrist for silence. The girls stared at the man +beating his way downward. He wore a broad-brimmed hat, but they could +see the long, black, curling hair flowing from beneath it. He turned his +face toward them, and Betty beheld the keen face and heavy mustache of +the stranger she had seen hiding from the sheriff and his posse weeks +before near the trail to Hoskins! + +The man progressed so slowly, and he was so near, that the Eastern girl +could study his features now with more certainty. There was something in +the contour of his face that reminded her of Andy Wilkenson! + +Could it be he? Was it possible that this fugitive--the man the officers +had accused of a crime--was the debonair Andy who had so enthralled her +girlish mind and heart back there at Grandhampton Hall? + +She had not forgotten Wilkenson's observations about Crescent City. +Betty had never ceased to fear that he might appear to her in this part +of the great West. But here--now--and in this dramatic manner? + +Much shaken, she turned to look at Nell Blossom. She suddenly realized +that the other girl was sagging against her shoulder very strangely. She +glanced down into Nell's muffled face. + +The younger girl's eyes were closed. She was as pallid as death itself. +Nell Blossom had fainted! + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII--A GREAT LIGHT DAWNS + + +Some men can escape their duty if they choose to--can ignore it, flout +it, even deny its very existence--but not one who is called to be a +leader of men toward a higher plane of daily existence. The greatest +sophism with which the race has ever been cursed is that hoary one of +the lazy preacher: "Do as I say, not as I do." + +Religious precept is utterly worthless if the preceptor does not follow +his own expounded faith with a living example. The Reverend Willett Ford +Hunt had come to that pass where he could no longer ignore the fact that +his friend, Joe Hurley, was on the down grade. When the parson cooled +down after the exciting events of that evening, both in Colorado Brown's +place and at the Grub Stake, he saw more clearly that he had fallen into +error. + +If he was to be the spiritual guide and mentor of his congregation at +Canyon Pass, he must be the same to one member of it as he was to +another. He had not been slow to admonish others of his parishioners; +but the man who had brought him here--the one whom he really looked upon +as being his chief supporter in the work he was striving to do--was +slipping away from him and into flagrantly evil ways. + +If Hunt's character has been revealed at all in this narrative, moral +and physical courage have not seemed to be its lack. Then why had the +young parson failed to go after Joe Hurley as he did after Judson, the +storekeeper, Sam Tubbs, Hi Brownell, Smithy, and other men who were wont +to "kick over the traces"? + +There was just one clear and cogent reason why Hunt had not taken Joe to +task for his failings, as he already had many another man in Canyon +Pass. His old friendship for Joe had nothing to do with this neglect. +And certainly he did not fear making the good cause in which he was so +interested a powerful enemy. There was nothing in Joe Hurley's generous +character that would suggest that for a moment. + +It was, in short, the fact that Hunt believed that he and Joe were in +love with the same girl. + +Although, as far as Hunt had observed, Nell Blossom displayed no +particular fondness for Joe Hurley, the latter believed the mining man +"understood" the cabaret singer. At least, Nell revealed no such disdain +for Joe Hurley as she had publicly for Hunt. + +When the latter reviewed the late incidents as they related to Joe, +while he tossed on his mattress that night, he admitted he was taking +the wrong course with his friend. He had seemed tacitly to overlook sins +of commission on Joe's part that he would have pilloried in another. + +Had Hurley not been heated by drink and his passion for gambling, he +would not have pursued that unwise course in going to the Grub Stake in +a mood which had all but precipitated tragedy. Joe's recklessness had +been unleashed, and Hunt had been obliged to stand by after the +unexpected conclusion of the scene and see his friend drink with the +very men who, a few minutes before, had been ready to take Joe's life. + +He arose with a new determination. He saw his sister and Nell Blossom +ride away from the Wild Rose Hotel. Then he made his way directly to the +Great Hope Mine. + +Hurley had an office--a small shack--off at one side. The parson found him +alone in it, his boots cocked on his battered desk, his pipe drawing +well. His grin was as infectious as ever. + +"Well, Willie! some time that last night, eh?" was Joe's greeting. "When +I get in a tight corner again, I'll never wish for a better side-partner +than you, old sobersides!" + +"Joe," returned Hunt with a directness that seemed brutal, "if you had +been your sober self last night--quite the same man you are wont to +be--there would have been no tight corner." + +"Huh?" The other's boots came to the floor with emphasis. His brown eyes +sparked. The muscles of his jaws set grimly. "You've got a crust, +Willie, to talk to me like that." + +"You need talking to, Joe; and I'm going to do the talking. No! Sit +right where you are and listen. You've got it coming to you; and, if you +are the man I have always thought you, you'll stand the gaff." + +"Aw, shucks! A drink or two isn't going to kill Joe Hurley." + +"A drink or two kills his moral sense, and kills his usefulness as a +good citizen," returned Hunt. "Then, you have been gambling steadily." + +"Great saltpeter! isn't a feller to have any fun at all? I haven't lost +much to Miguel." + +"It is your example to the rest. And what you have lost would help the +fund for our church building. And we must have a church, Joe." + +Joe uttered something under his breath. + +"What makes you so reckless, Joe?" + +"Shucks, Willie! Maybe I have slipped a few cogs. A lone bachelor like +me can't help it sometimes, can he?" asked Hurley, with a smile that +tried to be whimsical rather than bitter. "Remember, Willie, I haven't +got a sister to keep me well balanced. It's womenfolks and--and an +interest in one that makes a man a sobersides." + +"Is it!" returned Hunt, with scorn. "If a man hasn't the stamina to stay +straight, no girl will ever keep him in the narrow path--believe me!" + +"You belittle Miss Betty's powers of persuasion," returned Joe, with a +sly glance. + +"If that is your belief," Hunt said, with sharpness and a rising color, +"I should think you would keep straight for Nell's sake." + +"Nell Blossom?" + +"Yes. You are interested in her, aren't you?" + +"Surest thing you know, Willie." + +"Then, for her sake----" + +"Hold on!" ejaculated Hurley, sudden suspicion in his gaze. "Do you +think I'm soft on Nell?" + +"Well--er--aren't you?" demanded his friend rather faintly. + +"I'm free to confess I was," said Joe slowly, watching Hunt now with +growing understanding in his eyes. "But that little skeesicks showed me +where I got off long ago. And I tell you fair, Willie, she is not the +girl who is bothering me." + +"Then, there is a girl? Joe! You and Betty----" + +Hurley put up his hand, turning his face away. "No use, Willie. Betty's +given me my conge, too. I reckon I am an 'also-ran' with the ladies." + +"My dear Joe!" Hunt grabbed his hand. "I'm sorry. I don't understand +Betty." + +Hurley went to the door suddenly, opened it, and looked out. A cold +blast from the hills ruffled the papers on the desk. The sun was +suddenly dimmed. In the distance the coming wind whined like a sick dog. + +"Say! we're going to get it," he muttered. + +"A storm coming?" asked Hunt absently. His own heart sang. A foolish +happiness swept over him. He went to look out over Hurley's shoulder. +"Does it look bad to you?" + +"Youbetcha! It's coming faster than you ever saw a storm move, I reckon, +Willie. Those old has-beens, Steve and Andy, can't be fooled. They got +in from the desert just ahead of it." + +"A blizzard, Joe?" cried the parson with sudden anxiety. "The girls!" + +"What about them? What girls?" + +"Betty and Nell. They've gone out on horseback." + +"You don't mean it? Er--Well, Nell must have seen it coming and turned +back. She knows this country as well as a man. But, come on! Let's go +down to Tim's corral and see if the ponies are in again. It wouldn't +do----" + +He slammed the office door, shouted to his manager, and strode away. +Hunt had to put his best foot forward to keep up with him. Women and +children were already scuttling to shelter when they went down through +the town. Bill Judson waved a hand at them from his door, shouting: + +"Them old desert rats knowed their biz, didn't they? I'd set my clock by +them, I would." + +At the corral the two young men saw at a glance that the girls' ponies +had not been returned by Cholo Sam. They went on toward the hotel in +silence. Now the first needles of the ice-storm cut their faces. It was +nothing like any storm Hunt had ever seen. And how fast it grew in +volume and strength! + +Cholo Sam and Maria were at the door of the hotel, looking down the +street eagerly and anxiously. + +"Which way did they go?" shouted Hurley, without any preamble. + +"Oh, Senor Hurley!" cried Sam. "To the East. T'roo the East Fork." + +Already sight of the rugged path up the heights on that side of the +canyon was blotted out by the driving ice particles. + +"Shall we get horses and go after them?" panted Hunt. + +"Horses won't live in this. Maybe we can stir up some of the boys to go +with us. Wish I had my roughnecks here." + +But there was not time to go back to the mine. The storm had come on so +suddenly that the workers above the town might hole in until the first +force of the blizzard was over. + +Hunt ran up to his room to get his heavier coat and a couple of +blankets. As he descended the stairs, Cholo Sam came from the barroom +with a filled flask in his hand. + +"Some of the best brandy, Senor Hunt," he said. "It is for the seekness +only that comes with the cold. Ah thees ice in the lungs is death, +senor--death!" + +The parson took it without hesitation and slipped it into his pocket. He +ran out to see Joe Hurley coming out of Colorado Brown's place with Jib +Collins and Cale Mack behind him. In another few seconds, so rapidly did +the driving ice thicken the air, Hunt lost sight of the trio and they +fairly bumped into him when they reached the spot where he stood. + +"That you, Willie?" shouted Hurley. "We'll get a rope and tie ourselves +together. Tie mufflers over our faces. Say, there may be some more +fellers in the Grub Stake who will help." + +He turned that way, finding his direction more by sense than by sight. +They stumbled up the steps and in at the door of the Grub Stake. + +At that very moment a half-frozen man, leading a storm-battered horse, +had fallen at Tolley's rear door. The dive keeper was dragging him into +the place like a log as Hurley, Hunt, and their companions strode into +the barroom. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV--THE BARRIER DOWN--FOR A MOMENT + + +"Hey, you fellers!" shouted Tolley to the several men in the barroom of +the Grub Stake. "Come give me a hand. Here's a feller that's taken +pretty near his last pill, I reckon." + +The parson, as well as Hurley and the others, responded to the dive +keeper's call. Tolley kicked shut the back door with savage insistence +against the driving wind. + +"I reckon his hoss is done for," he panted. "But the feller himself--Hi, +Nobbs! get him a jolt of something hot." + +Hunt and Joe Hurley helped raise the senseless man, and, with Tolley +carrying the feet, they moved him close to one of the glowing stoves. +His hat fell off. It was Joe who voiced a surprise that was not his +alone. + +"Why, Tolley! here's your dead man now. As I'm a sinner--and the parson +assures me that I am--this is Dick Beckworth." + +"Dick the Devil!" ejaculated two or three in chorus. + +"This is a nice sort of a day for him to come back," muttered Tolley, +evidently quite as much amazed as the others. + +Hunt peered into the face of the senseless man. There was a certain +regularity of feature, in spite of the sharpness and blueness caused by +the extreme cold he had suffered, which the parson saw might lead the +casual observer to consider Dick Beckworth handsome. His complexion was +as spotless as a girl's; the skin scarcely tanned; ears and nose small +and perfectly formed; the closed eyes, long-lashed; and the brows as +delicately marked as though done with a stencil. + +He was shaved, although he had come out of the wilderness, and his +jet-black mustache was as silky as his long hair. Dick Beckworth, +gambler and lady's man, without doubt made a striking appearance +wherever he went. Even lying there on the bench, colorless, and with his +eyes closed, the parson realized that the man would be indeed a +"heart-breaker"--among young and inexperienced women at least. + +It could not be doubted that he had made a strong impression upon the +almost childish mind and heart of Nell Blossom. She must have been +attracted by this man just as she would have been by a gaudy flower or a +bird of brilliant plumage. + +Hunt felt a strange loathing for the gambler, much as his present state +should excite pity. This was the man, he believed, who had brought about +the change that Joe Hurley said had suddenly come over Nell Blossom's +character. + +Beckworth had hidden the fact that he had escaped death through his fall +into the canyon and so had laid a burden of terror and anguish upon +Nell's heart, which was reason enough for her apparent hatred of all +mankind. + +Nobbs, the barkeeper, brought the drink at Tolley's command. They forced +open Dick's jaws and poured the potent stuff into him. The color almost +instantly stained his cheeks. His eyelids fluttered. He choked. + +"What was it Andy McCann said about him?" Hurley said thoughtfully. +"He's got the luck of a hanged man. He's coming around all right. But +there are others out in the storm that need help more than this fellow." + +"Who's that?" asked one of the men who had been loitering at the Grub +Stake bar. + +Hurley explained briefly about the absent girls. Two men besides those +already of their party volunteered to join Hurley and the parson. A +rope--a hair lariat--was likewise found with which the searchers could +bind themselves together. It would be the simplest thing imaginable to +drift away from each other in such a blinding storm. + +Dick Beckworth gave unmistakable signs of returning consciousness. He +groaned, struggled, raised up on an elbow to stare about. + +"Hold on!" the parson said to Joe. "See if the man can speak. He may +know something." + +"Right you are, Willie," Hurley agreed. He leaned over the dazed +gambler. "Hi, Dick! Do you know me? Joe Hurley! See?" + +"Where--where am I?" whispered Dick. + +"You're in the Grub Stake, all right, Dick," broke in Tolley eagerly. +"The old Grub Stake, I tell ye--that you never ought t've left." + +"Grub Stake? Tolley?" questioned Dick. Then he opened his eyes wide and +recognized Hurley's face so close to his own. "That you, Joe? I----" + +"Which way did you come into town, Dick?" broke in the mining man. + +"Eh? What?" + +"Did you come through the East Fork or the West Fork?" + +"Why--why, the East Fork." + +"You did! Did you see anybody on the way down? You came down the cliff, +didn't you? Anybody up on the plain?" were Hurley's excited questions. + +"Why--I--I----" + +"Two women are out in the storm," went on Hurley. "Did you see them +anywhere up yonder?" + +"Two women? I--I thought they were men. They rode down ahead of me. Then +it grew so--so thick I couldn't see 'em again." + +"Great saltpeter!" exclaimed Hurley. "You must have passed 'em. They are +up there somewhere among the rocks." + +"Or they've gone over the rocks--hosses and all!" groaned Collins. + +"Shut up!" muttered his chum, Cale Mack. "Ain't you got no sense? Look +at the parson!" + +"This is Parson Hunt," explained Hurley to the staring Dick. "His sister +Betty is one of the missing girls you saw." + +"_Who?_" gasped Dick. "Betty Hunt? Here? Here? At Canyon Pass?" + +"My sister," Hunt said hoarsely. "Didn't you see her and Nell Blossom +again as you rode down?" + +"Your sister?" repeated the startled gambler. "Betty Hunt--your sister?" + +He fell back and closed his eyes. Hurley started for the front door. + +"No time to lose, boys," he cried. "Come on! Betty and Nell are +somewhere up there along that path. No more delay." + +He had already knotted one end of the rope around his waist. Hunt +followed his example, leaving six feet or more of slack between them. +The other men who were going with them quickly fastened themselves in +rotation. They knotted neckerchiefs or mufflers across their faces. +Nobbs opened the door for them, and the file went out into the storm. + +The roar of the storm as the men came out upon the open bank of the East +Fork made the human voice quite inaudible. Nor could they communicate by +signs, for only the dim outlines of the man before him could be seen by +the man behind. A tug of the rope was the only signal understood between +the searchers. + +The driven hail churned the surface of the river to a livid foam. The +reflection of this sheet of ruffled water lent them more light than the +sun itself. The storm beat upon the string of men with a savageness that +appalled Hunt, who had never experienced nature in so bitter a mood. + +But what these men of Canyon Pass could do, the parson would not shrink +from. And were not the two beings he loved most in this world--Nell +Blossom and his sister Betty--in desperate peril somewhere on the other +side of the wind-lashed stream? + +The water was all of knee-depth over the bar, but Joe waded in without +hesitation. They were none of them shod properly for the wading of the +stream; but their personal discomfort--or, indeed, their personal peril +in any way--did not enter into their consideration in this emergency. Two +girls were somewhere up there among the rocks, harassed by the storm and +in danger of their lives. The men's job was to get them. + +The ice--it was more than mere sleet that whipped them so +unmercifully--cut such parts of their faces as were bare, needle sharp +and stinging. From under the peak of his cap each man could now see +scarcely a yard before him. They stumbled on as though they were in an +unlighted cavern. Once Joe stepped off the track and plunged waist deep +in a hole. Hunt hauled him back by the rope, and after a moment they +went on again. + +They reached the farther bank and stumbled up the sleet-covered strand, +standing in a group together for a minute to get their breath and to +ease the binding-rope about their bodies. + +"I reckon I can smell out the path, boys," said their leader, so they +started off again. + +As they pressed upward, now and then they shouted--sometimes in unison. +But their voices could not penetrate the gale far. The sounds were blown +back into their faces as though rebounding from a blank wall. + +At a point some distance up the path Hurley halted again and allowed the +others to approach. He bawled at them: + +"There's a place yonder somewhere under the cliff--I remember it--a +half-shelter. They might have reached it." + +"Don't get off the path, Joe!" warned Jib Collins. + +"But if the girls got off the path?" + +"We don't want to lose our way," objected Mack. + +"I'm going to take a look!" ejaculated Hurley obstinately. But he could +not untie the knot which held him. He fumbled at it. "Got a knife, +Willie?" + +The parson had already drawn out his pocket-knife. But he slashed the +rope between Collins and himself. + +"I'm going with you, Joe," he declared. + +"Keep shoutin'!" bawled Collins, as the two younger men started off at a +tangent from the path. + +The bowlders were glassed with ice. The two friends floundered and +slipped about in an awkward way, straining themselves enormously and not +seldom falling. The one aided the other. It was fortunate, Hunt +realized, that they had come together, for one man alone could never +have accomplished the journey to the sheer wall of the cliff. + +Of a sudden there seemed to be a lull in the gale. Really, they had +reached a more sheltered spot. The storm sang around them, but they were +not so terribly buffeted. + +Joe shouted again: + +"Nell! Nell Blossom! Betty!" + +Hunt joined his voice to that of his friend. They continued to bellow +the girls' names. Hurley grabbed the parson's arm suddenly. + +"Hush!" + +There was a response. A wailing voice replied. + +"It's Betty! Your sister!" shouted Joe, and plunged forward, +half-dragging the equally excited Hunt with him. + +Something loomed up before the latter. He ran into the barrel of a +standing horse! + +"Here they are!" yelled Hurley. + +Somehow, the two young men got around the horses. There was a sheltered +place between the beasts and the wall of rock. Hunt heard his sister +crying and laughing somewhere near. But it was not she whom he first +found. + +"Oh, Mr. Hunt! Oh, Mr. Hunt!" sobbed Nell Blossom's voice. "Are you +real? You ain't another ghost, are you? Oh! Oh!" + +Hunt's arms were around the girl, and he held her fast. Near by, he +knew, Joe and Betty were talking--perhaps were whispering. His own lips +were close to Nell's ear. + +"My dear! My dear!" the parson said over and over again. "God is good to +me! I've found you safe." + +Nell snuggled into his arms like a frightened child and clung to him. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV--UNDERSTANDING + + +It was Betty Hunt, who, after all, seemed to possess the bolder spirit +of the two girls. Nell clung to the parson like a frightened child. He +realized, however, after the first flush of his emotion that he had +allowed his own overpowering desire for the singer to confuse his mind. +The barrier between them was down for a moment only; he raised it again +himself, for he knew he was taking advantage unfairly of the terrified +girl. + +It was Hunt, however, who lifted Nell Blossom into her pony's saddle +with one of the blankets wrapped well about her, and when Joe Hurley +started away leading Betty's mount, the parson followed close behind. +The two young men had freed themselves of each other; but the horses and +their riders bulked so big against the driving curtain of the storm that +they could scarcely lose each other. + +They heard the other searchers shouting and Joe pulled his gun from its +holster and fired two shots into the air. The signal was replied to +immediately. In a minute or two Joe ran, head-on, into Jib Collins. + +"Hey! did you find 'em both?" bawled the man. + +"Youbetcha!" responded Hurley. "When the parson and I go out, we bring +home the bacon, every time." + +They took up the march to the ford. At the water's edge one of the other +men came to the off side of each pony, and they forced the snorting +animals into the stream. The foaming barrier did not look encouraging to +the storm-beaten beasts. + +They all got through safely and up into the town. The driving storm was +changing to snow and sleet; but the foundation of ice that had first +fallen made walking difficult. The girls were lifted off their horses +and carried up into Betty's room, where Maria gave them every assistance +in her power. Somebody put away the horses. Joe scurried off to his own +bachelor shack, while Hunt stripped in his room and gave himself a +savage rub-down with coarse towels. It had been a terrible experience; +but his spirits and his blood were both in glow! + +Surely Nell Blossom could not be unfriendly hereafter. It must be +confessed that the parson's thought was more entangled with Nell and his +recent association with her than in anything else. + +Cholo Sam brought up a steaming pot of coffee, his dark face expanded +with delight. + +"Ah, Senor Hunt!" the Mexican said, "you an' de Senor Hurley--you are de +pure queel, eh? De boys all cheer you--my goodness, yes!" + +When Hunt was dressed again he went to Betty's door and knocked. His +sister's response to his summons was brisk and cheerful, as usual. Yet, +when he entered and looked keenly at her, he thought there was something +feverish--or was it expectant?--in the look she gave him. + +The girls were both in the big bed, heaped with blankets. Nell's petite +face, ruffled about by one of Betty's boudoir caps, was pale. Indeed, +the parson's sister looked in much the better condition of the two. The +excitement and danger of the adventure which had befallen them seemed to +have affected the girls in a paradoxical manner. Whereas the Eastern +girl might be expected to be overcome by the affair and Nell have +suffered the adventure as an ordinary experience, the result seemed +really to be the other way around! Nell lay in the bed pale, almost +hysterical it would seem. Betty could scarcely control her excitement. + +"Ford!" she exclaimed, "I need you. Try to convince this foolish girl +that there is no such thing as a ghost--a real ghost." + +Hunt smiled, but he could not be unsympathetic. He realized that Nell +Blossom, being brought up as she had been--even associating so long with +Mother Tubbs--was probably hopelessly superstitious. He could not find it +in his heart to oppose roughly any fear Nell might hold regarding +supernatural things. He tried to put his admonition in a kindly way. + +"If there is any truth at all in the matter of ghosts," he said, "it +must be of a somewhat unreal nature, must it not? Ghosts are supposed to +be too ethereal for sight or touch or sound. And the only smell, even, +accompanying their visitations, is supposed to be of brimstone, isn't +it?" + +"That feller ought to smell of brimstone all right!" muttered Nell +suddenly hectic in her language. "He ought to come plumb from the bad +place." + +"What does she mean?" Hunt asked Betty. Yet he half suspected what was +in the singer's mind. "Did you girls see----" + +"Nell declares," interrupted Betty, still with that strange excitement, +"that she has seen the ghost of a man she calls Dick Beckworth." + +"Dick Beckworth," Hunt repeated calmly. "You saw him, I presume," he +watched the pale face on the pillow all the time, "on the side of the +cliff over yonder? He rode down behind you----" + +"Do you mean----" gasped Nell. + +A flame of color flashed into both her cheeks. Her blue eyes grew round +with surprise. + +"He says he came into town by that path," the young man rejoined. "He +put us on to the track of you girls. He said he saw you start down the +path ahead of him." + +"He is alive!" murmured Nell. + +"His horse was in bad shape, I believe," Hunt told her. "But the last I +knew--just before we left the Grub Stake to look for you--Dick Beckworth +gave every promise of getting on quite well." + +"Dick the Devil!" muttered Nell. "That sure is his name." + +"From what I have heard about him," said Hunt, "I think his nickname +quite fits him. But it was probably Tolley's meanness alone that made +you--that is," he hastened to correct himself, "that made all of the +trouble. That was thrashed out last evening, Miss Nell. Steve Siebert +and Andy McCann proved Dick was not dead, although he did go over the +cliff back there in the spring." + +"I don't know what you are both talking about," Betty interposed. "Who +is this--this--Dick Beckworth, do you call him?" + +"A gambler, Betty," said her brother. "You would scarcely know such a +person. But unfortunately both Miss Nell and I have been obliged to mix +with all classes of society," he smiled again, "and so we know such +people." + +"Nell should not sing in those places." Betty said it with conviction. +But in a moment she turned again to the identity of the man whose +reappearance had startled Nell Blossom so greatly that she had fainted +in the storm. "What--what does this man, Dick, look like?" + +"Not an unhandsome fellow," said the parson generously. "A somewhat +cruel face--ruthless perhaps would be the better term. Good features; a +beautiful complexion--if such a term should be applied to a man's skin," +and he laughed. + +"You do not like him, Ford!" exclaimed Betty quickly. + +"Would I be likely to?" mildly asked her brother. + +"Oh! But I do not want a psychoanalysis of the man," said Betty, and she +used a handkerchief to half hide her own face. "Just what does he look +like?" + +"Mildly dark. A beautiful, oiled mustache--like a crow's wing as the +Victorian lady novelists would say. Heavy black hair. Under different +circumstances--you must remember I saw him only after he was dragged out +of the storm and on the border of a collapse--I judge Dick Beckworth +would be quite the gentleman in all appearance, and quite the devil at +heart." + +"You said it!" agreed Nell. + +"A mustache--and thick black hair," murmured Betty. "Yes. I saw him go by +when we were cowering there under that wall, too. Well, I am relieved." +Her laugh did not sound right in her brother's ears. "I am glad that it +did not turn out to be a real ghost." + +Hunt sat down upon a chair at Nell's side of the bed. The singer looked +at him, and there suddenly flashed into her eyes a warm light that +enhanced her beauty. She put out a little brown hand and gripped his, +which was only too ready to be seized. + +"Parson--Mr. Hunt, you are a good man!" she said, chokingly. "I heard +about what you did last night. But I didn't hear all about it; so I +didn't know Dick was alive. I--I'm mighty wicked, I reckon. I ain't glad +he didn't die----" + +"No need to go into that," urged Hunt quickly. "All such things are in +the hands of Providence. But your mind, I hope, Nell, is relieved." + +Betty looked from the face of the girl on the pillow to her brother's +glowing countenance. It was another shock for Betty Hunt, but she +understood. + + * * * * * + +The sudden, sharp blizzard that tore across the country blew itself out +by nightfall. In the morning the sun shone brilliantly, a warm wind +followed the gale, and the snow and ice melted like a September frost. +It had been only a foretaste of winter. + +The effect of the incidents of that day remained longer in the hearts of +some of the participators in the events than it did upon the earth or +the rivers, the rocks and gorges, the frosted herbage, or other physical +and material matters about Canyon Pass. To be in mutual peril, to suffer +alike the buffetings of the storm, had linked Betty Hunt and Nell +Blossom with a chain that could not lightly be severed. + +There was, too, a secret knowledge on the Eastern girl's part that made +this chain stronger than Nell imagined. The latter had no suspicion that +Dick Beckworth--Dick the Devil--was a link in the chain that bound her to +the parson's sister. There was as well another thing that made the +cabaret singer an object of Betty's deeper interest. The latter had seen +in her brother's face something which had vastly surprised her and +something which--had it been revealed to her before this time--would have +horrified Betty as well as startled her. + +The Reverend Willett Ford Hunt was plainly and frankly more concerned in +Nell Blossom than he had any right to be--unless he proposed to declare +himself the singer's suitor. It was a somewhat shocking thought for +Betty--no two ways about it. She had scarcely ever considered her brother +in the light of a marrying man, and never here at Canyon Pass! For it to +have been suggested that Hunt would find an object of sentimental +interest in this Western mining camp would have completely confounded +Betty at an earlier date. + +And Nell Blossom? A singer in a rough amusement place that Betty would +consider herself smirched if she entered? Yet--and Betty was surprised to +consider it--she was much less amazed by her brother's seeming choice +than she presumed she would be. Besides, there was a reason why Betty +Hunt felt that she might not criticise her brother's course in this +affair. + +When Nell Blossom had recovered from the exposure sufficiently to go +home to Mother Tubbs, and that was not until late in the day following +the storm, Betty had gained from her brother all he knew and much that +he surmised regarding Nell's association with the gambler who had +returned to the Grub Stake at so dramatic a moment. + +For his part, Hunt had not the first suspicion that Betty held any +personal interest in the man, Dick Beckworth. But he knew that his +sister suspected his love for Nell Blossom. + +Hunt braced himself for an argument, and a serious one. Betty veered +from Nell herself in a most surprising manner and seemed to feel +interest only in Dick the Devil. + +"He is scarcely a person in whom you would find any interest did you +meet him, Betty," declared the parson. "Believe me, as Joe says, the +fellow is one of those fungi attached to society that would much better +be lopped off than allowed to develop and spread their vile spawn +about." + +"Oh!" gasped Betty. "You mean it would have been better had you and--and +Mr. Hurley found the man's remains where you found his horse? Oh, Ford!" + +"Somehow," said the parson gravely, "I feel that way." + +"Ford!" cried his sister vehemently. "This is an awful place! Let--let us +go back East." + +The parson shook his head slowly. "No, Betty. You may go if you wish. I +do not blame you for wanting to give it up. There is no reason why you +should sacrifice yourself. But for me--Canyon Pass is mine. I will not +own to failure. Indeed, my work is not without promise. I am going to +reach the heart of Canyon Pass in some way, and I will keep on in the +quest as long as I am given strength." + +It was Betty's last outbreak against conditions. Nor did her brother +suspect for a moment the reason for the sudden renewal of her hatred of +the mining town. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI--THREATENING WEATHER + + +Joe Hurley had taken a new lease on cheerfulness; yet he scarcely could +have explained why his condition of mind had so suddenly improved. But +it was not difficult for him to put a digit upon that very moment of +time when this new feeling had dawned in his mind. + +It was when, with Hunt, he had plowed his way through the driving storm +to the nook under the sheltering cliff and had, seemingly, by instinct, +found Betty Hunt rather than Nell Blossom. + +Joe told himself that this very fact--that he had stumbled upon Betty +rather than Nell--was a miracle of love. + +All the time they were beating through the blizzard, crossing the icy +river and climbing the steep path, it seemed to Joe that Betty had been +calling to him. It had been the most natural thing in the world that at +the end of the fearful struggle he should find in his arms the girl whom +he loved and whose peril had caused him such anguish. + +And Betty did, quite of her own volition, enter that shelter. It was no +mistake, no chance happening. Betty did not think he was her brother. +"Oh, Joe! I was sure you would find us," she had said. + +Joe did not overlook the confession Betty had made that there was a man +back East who must, in some way, hold her promise if not her affections. +But Joe hoped that by now Betty had taken time to compare that unknown +with himself; and that he, Joe, had a chance. He decided to await +Betty's good pleasure. + +At least, Joe Hurley's recklessness was submerged once more in those +better qualities that the Reverend Willett Ford Hunt warmly liked. Joe +was bound to be the parson's chief assistant and backer in all his +efforts for the betterment of Canyon Pass. And Hunt faced now--he had +seen it coming of course--a situation that must practically make +effective or mar seriously all that he had striven for since he had come +West. + +This emergency came up for discussion that Saturday night in Bill +Judson's Three Star Grocery. The interest of the more decent element of +the town's population was centering in the church and in Parson Hunt's +work. This was a rallying point for all progressive effort and +determination in Canyon Pass. + +In addition, the happenings of the past week seemed to have focused on +Hunt and the good work the eyes of all those Passonians who possessed +vision at all. The almost tragic brawl in Tolley's Grub Stake had +aroused a great deal of warm discussion. What did Canyon Pass and Canyon +County have a sheriff for, if roughnecks were to go armed--and use those +arms--just as they had been wont to do in the old days? + +"Why, we're plumb civilized now. We ain't supposed to go around wearin' +shootin'-irons and pluggin' holes in store-fronts and citizens' hats. If +a bunch of cow-punchers came riotin' in yere and started to shoot up the +camp, Sheriff Blaney would show 'em what-for, blame sudden." + +"Youbetcha!" agreed one of the storekeeper's listeners. "That's a true +word, Bill. If a man means to be peaceable, why go ironed at all?" + +"That's just it," complained the gangling Smithy. "There's them that +ain't for peace. That's why the rest of us hafter go heeled." + +Smithy had been waiting on customers with a gun belted to his waist ever +since the night he had lost two teeth and gained a black eye. Perhaps +the evidence of this gun so prominently displayed had saved the gangling +clerk from much hectoring comment that he might otherwise have suffered +from some of the patrons of the Three Star. + +However, Smithy basked in a certain heroic light. He had been the first +to resent Tolley's scurrilous tale about Nell Blossom, and no matter +what Joe Hurley and the parson had done later, Smithy's small share of +glory could not be ignored. On this very afternoon Nell herself had come +into the Three Star Grocery and thanked Smithy very sweetly for his +courageously expressed opinion on her behalf, the result of which had +rather marred what good looks Smithy had ever been able to lay claim to. + +"Layin' off whatever that boy's mother said about him when he was an +infant," drawled Judson, "nobody ever could honestly say that Smithy +should take a medal for good looks. Now he looks plumb woeful! I come +pretty near bustin' out crying when I look at him." + +"Oh, it's not as bad as all that, Bill Judson, and you know it," Nell +declared. "Don't you believe him, Smithy. I don't think it hurts your +looks any." + +"It couldn't," was Judson's grim comment. + +But this missed Smithy. He fairly gasped with pleasure at Nell's +statement. + +"Don't you mind about it, Miss Nell," he said. "I was goin' to have them +teeth drawed, anyway. I'll get gold ones. And I'd have 'em all knocked +out if 'twould do you a mite of good." + +Now that the conclave between the serious-minded citizens had begun, +even Smithy was listened to with some respect. Besides, the gangling one +put forward an unmistakably pregnant fact. + +"If it wasn't for Tolley and his gang, wouldn't none of us hafter tote +guns," Smithy observed. + +"Surest thing you know!" exclaimed Collins. "Run them out o' town and +the decent men here wouldn't hafter develop saddle-galls from wearing +ten pound or more of iron and lead belted around their waists. Yes, sir! +I'm in favor of reviving the old vigilance committee and running these +yere undesirable citizens out into the Topaz." + +"What would become of them?" put in Hunt mildly. + +"Let 'em 'root, hog, or die'!" muttered Judson. "Tolley, of course, has +got a stake yere. We can't take a man's property away from him. But +those hangers-on of his----" + +"It is a part of Tolley's stake that is the immediate cause of this +discussion, gentlemen," put in the parson again. "Tolley still owns the +place in which we hold our meetings, and Judson's lease will soon run +out." + +"Run Tolley out," said Smithy, who had now enthusiastically taken sides +with the church people, "and you needn't worry about that shack." + +"Maybe he would sell," Hurley suggested. + +"You try to buy it," and Judson grinned. "His eye teeth has done been +cut a far time back. Tolley ain't that kind of a fool. He is wise to the +idea that we'd like to buy that place. If you paved the shack floor with +gold eagles Tolley wouldn't bite." + +"He'd like to bust up the church and run the parson out, if you ask me," +was the comment of another bystander. "And he's got a sharp side-pardner +now, boys. I hear tell Dick the Devil is a-hintin' that things will go +different in Canyon Pass, now that he's come back." + +"How's that?" asked Hurley quickly, his eyes sparkling as they always +did when his temper was ruffled. "What's Dick got to say about it?" + +"He don't favor no parson. He says so." + +"Looks to me," drawled Judson, "that it's comin' close to a show-down. +Either we folks that want a church and decency has got to cave in, or we +got to fight." + +"The right kind of fighting, I hope," said Hunt quickly. "We must hold +our own without open quarreling." + +"Well, it won't be peaceful when we try to hold onto Tolley's shack," +growled Jib Collins. + +"Look yere," queried a voice from the dark end of the store, "what have +you shorthorns been doin' all this time you've had a parson? Why ain't +ye built him a church?" + +"Another county heard from!" snapped Judson, as old Steve Siebert came +forward. "Easy enough to ask that." + +"Why don't ye answer it?" asked the old prospector. "I see you have got +yere in Canyon Pass a blame good parson. I never seen one I liked +better. I ain't heard him preach, and I ain't been to your meetin's. But +any parson that can walk barehanded up to a gang like that Boss Tolley +and his whelps gets my vote, and he can have everything I've got when he +wants it for his church." + +"Them that ain't got nawthin' can easy give it away," muttered Judson. + +But it was another voice that ruffled the serenity of Steve Siebert. On +a box by the door the hooped figure of Andy McCann straightened up. + +"I reckon," he sneered, "that that old gray-backed lizard has got him a +poke full o' nuggets out in the Topaz, and he's goin' to hand it over +for to pay for a church edifice," and his senile giggle was more +maddening than the laughter of the crowd. + +"I likely brought in full as much as yonder ground-owl ever scooped out +o' the ground. But ye don't answer my question, neither. Why ain't you +fellers made some preparation for buildin'?" + +"Mr. Siebert," said the parson soothingly, "the men and women interested +in our work have subscribed several hundred dollars toward a building +fund. But we are none of us prepared to finance such a work as yet. We +wish to put up a fairly good structure when we get at it. We cannot +freight in the frame and heavier timbers. They must be cut and sawn on +the spot. The expense of getting in a mill, aside from the labor, is +enormous." + +"I reckon these hard-shells have tol' you that because their pockets +squeal ev'ry time they put their hands in 'em," growled Siebert. "I know +'em." + +"Look here, old-timer," said Joe Hurley, sharply, "we figure it will +cost close to ten thousand dollars to put up a church. What do you say +to that?" + +"Put your hand in your poke and hand over ten thousand in dust, you +miser'ble desert rat!" cackled Andy McCann. + +"And how much of it can you rake up, after prospectin' this country for +nigh on to thutty years?" was Steve's answer, glowering at his enemy. + +"Wal, dern your hide! there was a time when I might ha' done my share of +it without weepin' none," muttered Andy. "And if it hadn't been for +you----" + +"Is that so?" cried the other old man, his face ablaze with wrath. "And +how about me bein' right in sight once't of the most promisin' lead that +ever was uncovered in Canyon County?" + +"If it hadn't been for you," rejoined Andy, "I would ha' been rollin' in +wealth. And you know it--dad burn your hide!" + +"Look here," interjected Joe Hurley, interested rather than amused. "If +you both tell the truth, you must have together struck a rich streak. +Why didn't you develop it? You were partners, weren't you?" + +"Me, pardners with that yere!" croaked Steve. + +"D'ye think for one moment," demanded Andy, "that I'd help make that +feller's fortune? Not on your tintype!" + +Here Judson, with enormous disgust, broke into the discussion. "Dad burn +it!" he exclaimed, "this ain't helpin' none to build the parson a +church." + +The others were laughing uproariously. Steve and Andy glared at each +other like two angry dogs with a strong fence between them. But slowly +their fierce expressions changed. Hunt, who was watching them with +something more than idle curiosity, saw that both old men began to look +slyly at each other as they calmed down. The others paid no further +attention to Steve and Andy, the flurry of their verbal battle being +over. But in the rheumy eyes of Andy there grew a light which seemed to +register some secret amusement, while Steve's toothless grin displayed a +humorous appreciation of a phase of the argument that the bystanders in +general quite failed to catch. + +"Now," thought the Reverend Willett Ford Hunt, "I wonder, to use one of +Joe's favorite expressions, what those two old fellows have up their +sleeves. Perhaps the joke is on Canyon Pass, rather than on these two +queer old prospectors. I wonder!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII--SEVERAL CONCLUSIONS + + +Nell Blossom had not gone back to sing at Colorado Brown's place. It was +some time before Hunt found this out, and he wondered why she had broken +her agreement with Colorado, for he knew she had entirely recovered from +the effects of her adventure in the storm. + +Had the parson asked his sister, Betty might have illuminated his mind +not a little regarding this and other mysteries about Nell; but he was +chary of ever speaking of the singer in other than a general way before +Betty. + +To tell the truth, he shrank from any argument regarding the Blossom of +Canyon Pass. He had learned just how sweet and innocent Nell Blossom +was. But he did not know how far Betty might approve of the younger +girl, especially if he showed any personal interest in the latter. + +He was firm in his conviction that Nell Blossom was a being set apart as +his mate from the beginning! Strange as it might seem at first view, +Hunt was positive that he and the half-tamed mining-camp girl held much +in common. He had found opportunity to talk with her of late--both at +Mother Tubbs' and elsewhere--and he knew her tastes and aspirations far +better than before. She had confided to him, although with much +timidity, some of her girlish desires and her conclusions upon topics +which she had thought seriously about. + +She was, too, of the very stuff these Canyon Pass people were made--one +of themselves. If he got Nell Blossom for a wife she would be of greater +aid to him in his work here than any other one person possibly could be. +With Nell Blossom for his very own, the Reverend Willett Ford Hunt would +indeed have won the Heart of Canyon Pass. + +Hunt kept all this a secret and said little to Betty about the cabaret +singer. Nothing indeed that gave her a chance to tell him that her eyes +had seen already most of what he thought was hidden from her, and seen +it in a single glance. + +As her brother sat beside the bed the day of the ice-storm and held Nell +Blossom's hand, Betty saw how it was with the Reverend Willett Ford +Hunt. The only matter that puzzled her at all was Nell's possible +attitude. Unsophisticated as the mining-camp girl was, Betty could not +know for sure what Nell's feeling for the parson was. + +But Betty might have given Hunt a pretty correct explanation of why Nell +did not go back to sing at Colorado Brown's place. The girls were +together almost every day after their adventure in the storm. + +Betty did not go to Mother Tubbs'. She scarcely left the hotel at all in +the day time, though going out on the first Sunday following their +perilous adventure to attend church service. + +But Nell came to the Wild Rose, and the two girls grew to know each +other better than before. This because they both wished a closer +understanding. Nell had begun to admire something about Betty Hunt +besides her frocks and the way she manicured her nails. The parson's +sister now desired to know Nell better for the parson's sake. + +"I'm sick to death, Betty, singing for those roughnecks," Nell had burst +forth on one occasion. "I used to think it was great to have 'em cheer +me and clap me off and have 'em throw money at me. But I'm plumb sick of +it." + +"It's a great gift to be able to move people with one's voice so." + +"It ain't nothing of the kind!" Nell declared vehemently. "It's because +they ain't got no brains--at least, what they've got are addled with +hootch. I've only got just a nice, sweet, singing voice. Them fellers +are so plumb ignorant that they hoot and holler for me because I please +'em. I'd love to be really able to sing!" + +"I am not so sure that you cannot sing, as you mean it," was Betty's +sympathetic rejoinder. "Merely, you do not sing worth-while +songs--altogether." + +"I'm mighty ashamed about singing that 'This Is No Place for a +Minister's Son,'" burst out Nell suddenly. + +"Why, I think it's funny," and Betty laughed. "I've often heard Ford +humming it." + +"Oh! I--I sang it at him, Betty. I did!" + +"I am quite sure it never disturbed Ford in the least." + +"Well, no, I reckon not. Nothing a girl like me done----" + +"Did!" + +"_Did_--could bother a man like Parson Hunt." + +"I am not so sure of that," Betty rejoined, eyeing the other girl +keenly. + +But Nell Blossom, if she had a secret, hid it successfully. Betty did +not miss the opportunity, however, of trying to help her friend. + +"Suppose you learn some better songs--some really worth-while pieces? I +brought my music with me, although I do not know if I shall ever touch a +piano again." She sighed. "But I sometimes sit and hum over my +favorites. You read music of course, Nell?" + +"I don't know a note--to speak the name of it, I mean," confessed the +singer. "But I never saw the piece yet that I couldn't pick up pretty +easy. Rosabell Pickett says I'm a natural sight-reader with a great ear +for harmony." + +She accepted with gratitude the selections Betty made from her library. +Betty had chosen the songs with some little guile. That fact was proved +by what occurred later. + +"Anyway," Nell concluded, "I ain't going back to Colorado's place for a +while. I got some money, and Sam's bringing his pay home to Mother Tubbs +pretty reg'lar now. I can live for a while without singing for those +roughnecks, that's a sure thing!" + +But Betty had her own grave thoughts--thoughts that kept her awake at +night. Hollow eyes and certain twitching lines about her sensitive mouth +were the result of these secret cogitations. Hunt noticed his sister's +changed appearance but he misunderstood its source. He feared that Betty +found the life at Canyon Pass, with winter coming on, too hard to bear. +Yet he saw that she always cheered up when Joe Hurley ran in to see +them. + +The Eastern girl's trouble did not arise from the locality in which she +was forced to live; it was the presence of one person in the town that +caused her such serious thoughts. The man who had passed Nell Blossom +and her in the storm, whose unexpected appearance had made Nell faint, +had shocked Betty much more deeply than he did the singer! + +Without that heavy mustache, with his waving hair cut more to conform to +Eastern ideas of propriety, the girl visualized the fellow as she had +once known Andy Wilkenson. He was the man, thought of whom had so +worried Betty's mind for these long months since she had left +Grandhampton Hall. Andy Wilkenson! The man she had hoped never to see or +hear from again. Her worst fears on coming West were now realized. And +his reappearance here at Canyon Pass warned Betty that she could never +allow Joe Hurley to see just how much she had learned to care for him. + +She went to church on that next Sunday morning in fear and trembling. +She sat well forward as usual. But she knew when "Dick Beckworth" came +in and sat down in one of the rear seats. + +His coming here surprised them all. Heads were turned, and there was +whispering. Dick was dressed in the same flashy way, for he had left a +trunk at the Grub Stake when he went away in the spring. He sat during +the sermon with a sneer on his handsome face and the dancing light of +the demon flickering in his hard eyes. Hunt usually met strangers after +the meeting with a cordial handclasp. He did not approach Dick +Beckworth. + +Betty drew a veil across her face before she arose for the benediction. +She waited to return to the hotel with her brother. + +She was the only person in the assembly who was not amused by the +appearance of the two old prospectors, Siebert and McCann, at the +service. They did not come in together; and when Andy McCann entered to +see Steve seated at one side, he chose a seat just as far from the other +old-timer as he could and on the other side of the house. Their scowls +turned on each other were more significant than words. + +Hunt did not let Steve and Andy get away without a personal word with +them. + +"I am very glad to welcome you among us, Mr. McCann," he said to that +individual when he shook the pocket-hunter's wrinkled claw. + +"Wal, it's all right, I reckon," muttered Andy. "In a meetin' you've got +to stand for most anybody droppin' in. But that old rip," nodding toward +the distant Steve, "would look a heap better 'cordin' to my idee in jail +than at church." + +"We must be charitable, Mr. McCann," said the parson, moving toward the +other prospector. + +Old Steve was quite as bitter in his comment. But he added something, +too, that gave Hunt pause. + +"It seems a good deal like old times. I used to go to church reg'lar, +onc't," said Siebert. "But I miss something, parson--I sure do." + +"What's that?" asked Hunt smiling. + +"Let alone I never expected to see that old has-been at meetin'--an' I +don't reckon he's come for any good--I see you don't look jest like a +preacher ought to look. Say, don't ministers dress different no more +from other folks? You might be a banker or a gambler as far as your coat +goes to show." + +The blunt criticism shocked Hunt not a little. Up to this time he had +carefully eschewed clerical dress. He began to wonder if, after all, he +was not making a mistake. + +Dick Beckworth was not on the street when the parson and his sister went +back to the hotel. In fact Dick had slipped out very soon after the +meeting ceased and was then in conference with Boss Tolley in the little +office at the end of the long bar in the Grub Stake. + +"Well," said Tolley, eagerly, "did you see her?" + +"Sure as sure." + +"Is it her?" demanded the dive keeper, grinning like a wolf. + +"It sure is. It's her that was Betty Hunt." + +"Dad burn it! And she paradin' 'round here like an unmarried woman. +Dick, we got that parson on the hip." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII--CATASTROPHE + + +No more snow or ice had followed that first sharp, furious blizzard; but +with the higher temperature had come heavy rainstorms which the natives +declared were quite unseasonable. The rivers were bank full. The lower +end of Main Street was washed by the water from both Forks. Several +families had been obliged to move into the higher part of the town. + +But the flood had not driven Mother Tubbs and her little family out of +their home. The wise old woman did not know just why Nell Blossom sang +no more at the dance hall; but in her mind she knew that "suthin' was +workin' on that gal." Meanwhile she proceeded to "work on" Sam as usual. + +Rocking on her back porch with the vista of dreary yards under her eye, +but the rugged beauties of the Topaz Range in the distance, she +philosophized as usual on all things both spiritual and mundane. Sam was +pottering about a broken table that she had convinced him he must mend +before he left the premises for a stroll into the town, it being +Saturday afternoon. + +"I must say, too, that it seems as peaceful as Sunday back in +Missouri--or pretty near," Mother Tubbs observed. "Things is changed yere +in Canyon Pass. Ye must admit it, Sam." + +"Drat it!" snarled her husband, sucking a thumb he had just smashed with +his hammer. "I admit it all right. The Pass is gettin' plumb wuthless to +live in. Psalm singin', and preachin', and singin' meetings, and sech. +Huh! Parson wants me to come to Bible class." + +After all he said it with some pride. Sam had, as he expressed it, "a +sneakin' likin'" for the parson. But he was determined not to show that +this was so before Mother Tubbs. + +"Ain't you glad to live less like a savage--more decent and civilized +like--than you useter, Sam Tubbs?" demanded the old woman. + +"I was satisfied as I was," grunted her husband. "I ain't one o' them +that's always wantin' change and somethin' new. If I had been, I'd +picked me a new woman before now." + +"The pickin' ain't very good in Canyon Pass," rejoined Mother Tubbs +complacently. "Them that's got husbands don't want to exchange. 'Twould +be like jumpin' out of the skillet onto the coals. Them women that ain't +got nary man are well content, I reckon, to get on without one if you, +Sam Tubbs, are the only hope they got." + +"Huh!" + +Nell's sweet, clear voice floated down from the upper chamber. In +accents that caressed, she sang an old song which she had found in Betty +Hunt's music, arranged for solo use. + +"Hear that child, Sam!" whispered the old woman, wiping her eyes when +the pleading verse was finished. "Ain't that heaven-born?" + +"Huh!" said Sam, but in truth a little doubtfully. "I never considered +our Nell as bein' pertic'lar angelic. No ma'am! Not before." + +"She's as good as any angel," declared Mother Tubbs with conviction. +"Only she's flighty. Or useter be. And if she'd just go and sing them +songs at meetin', Canyon Pass would learn for once just what good +singin' is." + +"I dunno but you're right, old woman," said Sam softly, as the voice +from above took up the song again. "I've heard Nell Blossom sing many a +time before; but it never so sort o' caught in muh cogs as that song +does. But she can't sing them kind o' tunes in Colorado Brown's or the +Grub Stake." + +"Hush, Sam! Don't mention it!" whispered his wife. "I hope to the Lord +she won't never hafter work in them places again." + +"Huh! How's she going to live?" asked the startled Sam. + +"You leave it to Parson Hunt," declared Mother Tubbs in the same +secretive way, "and Nell Blossom won't never no more hafter sing for her +livin'." + +Sam stared. His bald head flushed as his eyes began to twinkle and the +knowing grin wreathed his sunken lips. He suddenly burst into a cackle +of delight. + +"D'ye mean it? The parson? By mighty! So he's willin' to go the way of +all flesh, is he? Nell needn't work no more for her livin' if she don't +want?" + +"You poor fool," scornfully said his wife, holding up one of his +enormous blue yarn socks with a gaping hole in the heel, "if the parson +is as hard on his socks as you are, Sam Tubbs, Nell will have her work +cut out for her--sure as sure!" + +It was the very next night that Nell Blossom sang for the first time at +the Canyon Pass church service. She had been twice to morning service +before this, coming in alone, refusing to sit near Mother Tubbs or +Betty, and remaining silent even through the hymns. In truth, she had +never learned those hymns that chanced to be given out on those +occasions. Rosabell Pickett did yeoman's service at the badly tuned +piano; but her own voice had the sweetness of a crow with the carrying +power of that same non-soothing bird. Rosabell kept the hymns going; but +sometimes Hunt could have wished for even Miss Pelter of the Ditson +Corners' choir to carry the air! + +As has been said, the Sunday evening service at Tolley's old shack was +not so formal as the morning session. Hunt tried in the evening to lead +the singing himself. He had managed through the summer to teach the +young folks several of the newer and more sprightly songs out of the +collection he had brought with him from the East. Some of the rougher +young men who filled the rear benches in the evening were glad to make a +noise with something besides their heavy boots, and they "went in" for +the singing with gusto. + +On this evening Nell came in with Mother Tubbs and Sam, but she sat down +on the front bench between Betty and Rosabell Pickett. She handed some +sheets of music to Rosabell, and Betty recognized them with a flush of +pleasure. It was plain that the accompanist had been prepared for Nell's +new move. + +"Do you think Mr. Hunt would let me sing a song?" whispered Nell to +Betty. + +"Let you!" returned Betty eagerly. "He'll love you for it." + +Perhaps the emphatic statement was made by the parson's sister without +thought of how it sounded. Nell's flower-like face warmed to a flush +that spread from the collar of her blouse to the waving tendrils of hair +under her hat brim. She hid her face quickly from Betty. The latter, +perhaps somewhat wickedly, enjoyed the other girl's confusion. Her heart +had suddenly expanded to Nell and her brother Ford. If she saw no +happiness ahead of her in life, Betty Hunt had begun to hope that the +Reverend Willett Ford Hunt and the Canyon Pass blossom would realize all +the happiness that a loving pair could compass. + +With a whisper and a head shake Betty informed the parson of what he +might expect from Nell at this meeting. Her presence had already filled +Hunt's heart with singing. Now, before his talk to the congregation--it +was not a sermon--he smiled at Nell and sat down while she sang the song +she had prepared and that had so stirred the hearts of Mother Tubbs and +Sam the day before. + +Rosabell Pickett for once got the spirit of the composition. She played +the accompaniment softly, and she slurred over the sour notes of the old +piano. When Nell stood up a hush of expectancy fell upon the +congregation. Even the boot-scrapings from the back benches were +silenced. + +Never had Canyon Pass heard Nell Blossom sing so sweetly. The girl's +tones fairly gripped the heart-strings of her hearers and wrung them. +The tears rolled down good old Mother Tubbs' face. Sam sat beside her, +looking straight ahead more like a gargoyle than ever, afraid to wink +for fear the salt drops would carom from his bony cheeks. Steve Siebert +in his corner, and Andy McCann in his--as far apart as the width of the +room would allow--looked like their burros, carved out of desert rock. +Nothing seemed to move those old fellows. But the rest of the +congregation--even the roughnecks on the back seats--were subdued when the +song was done. + +After the service Hunt apprehended a new note in the manner and speech +of his flock. He scarcely realized that his own talk had been more +spiritual than usual because of the emotion roused within him by Nell's +song. There was a hush over the room. The noisy fellows went out on +tiptoe. Voices were subdued. For almost the first time the atmosphere of +this rough room where they "held meetings" had become that of a real +house of worship. + +"Steve Siebert is right," the parson told himself not without gravity. +"It is time that I should show my own respect beyond peradventure for +the religion I preach. Betty must shake the mothballs out of that coat." + + * * * * * + +Lizard Dan tooled his six mules across the East Fork. The water was more +than waist deep, and the beasts swam for part of the way, and the inside +passengers sat on the small of their backs with their boots up on the +cross-straps. The driver urged the team with voice and whip up the muddy +rise to the Wild Rose. His desert-stained face was full of wrinkles of +excitement. Joe Hurley, who chanced to be lingering at the door of the +hotel, spied the emotion in the bus-driver's countenance. + +"What's got you, old-timer?" asked the mining man, strolling down to the +step below the driver. "Something on the road over from Crescent City +bite you?" + +"I got bit all right," growled Lizard Dan. He stooped to put his tobacco +stained lips close to Joe's ear. "The sheriff of Cactus County rode over +on the seat with me. Yeppy! And he dropped off back yonder to talk to +Sheriff Blaney." + +"Something doing?" + +"Youbetcha! The Cactus County sheriff was tellin' me. He's been after a +guy that turned a trick last summer--fore part of the summer in fact--'way +out beyond Hoskins. He was some pretty shrewd short-card tin-horn, if +you ask me." + +"A gambler? Anybody know him?" asked Joe quite idly. + +"I didn't get his name. The sheriff was pumpin' me a lot about who was +new--if any--in Canyon Pass. I told him," and Dan grinned widely, "that +'bout the newest citizens we had yere was Parson Hunt and his sister." + +"You're some little josher, aren't you, Dan?" said Joe, grimly. "What +had the feller done?" + +"The one the sheriff's after? Cleaned out a sheep camp with marked cards +and then made his get-a-way under a gun. Cool as the devil! Shot one of +those sheepticks--I mean to say, a shepherd. Never did have much use for +sheep men----" + +"Me neither," admitted Hurley. + +"But they are ha'f human--leastways, that's how I look at 'em," pursued +Lizard Dan. "They should have their chance. Marked cards and a gun is no +way to win their spondulicks. No, sir." + +"What makes the Cactus County officer think the sharper came this way?" + +"Says he and a posse follered him to the Canyon County line, up yonder, +'long back in the summer. They figgered he'd gone Lamberton way, so they +swayed off and didn't come yere. Now something new has come up about the +feller, I take it, and the Cactus County sheriff has come yere to get +Blaney to help comb this part of the territory. I told him we didn't +have no loose gamblers yere. They all got jobs and have held 'em some +time." + +"Tolley is always picking up new hombres," said Hurley thoughtfully. "I +can't keep run of all the scabby customers he brings in here." + +"But not card-sharps," said Lizard Dan, shaking his head. "He ain't got +a new dealer in a dog's age. You wouldn't count Dick Beckworth one. It's +just like he's always been yere." + +He waddled away with the mail sacks and his large-bore gun. Hurley found +himself suddenly startled by an entirely uncalled-for thought. Surely +nothing Lizard Dan had said should have inspired this: + +Dick Beckworth had been away from Canyon Pass from the early springtime +until recently. He had ridden in from the wilderness on the occasion of +the first blizzard. Where had the gambler been during the months he was +missed at the Grub Stake? + +Hurley was half tempted to go to the Grub Stake and make an inquiry or +two, but since that notable night when Steve Siebert had held up Tolley +and his gang, Joe had seldom been inside the place. He did, however, +wander along the now quiet street toward the honkytonk. + +It was drawing toward evening, and a drizzle of rain, which had +threatened all day, swept across the West Fork and muffled the town +almost instantly as in a gray blanket. The roar of Runaway River in the +canyon blew back into Joe's ears and made him deaf to most other sounds. + +But as he crossed the mouth of the alley beside Tolley's place he heard +a sharp "Hist!" He turned to look. A girl, wrapped in a fluttering +cloak, stood there, dimly revealed in the thicker darkness of the alley. + +"Well, what do you want?" demanded the mining man. + +"Mr. Hurley!" + +"Great saltpeter! what's the matter, Rosy?" + +"Hush! Shet your yawp!" warned the piano player. "Want to get me into +trouble?" + +"Not a bit. What's up?" + +"I don't know. But it's something--something bad." + +"Bad? About whom?" + +"Parson Hunt and his sister Betty." + +"Betty Hunt?" muttered the mining man with an emphasis that would have +told a woman of much less discernment than Rosabell Pickett all that was +necessary. + +"Yeppy. You like her, Joe Hurley. You want to look out for her. Somebody +has got to. That Dick Beckworth----" + +"Dick the Devil?" + +"You said it! He's got something on her." + +"He's got something on Betty Hunt? Never!" + +"No use layin' your hand on your gun butt. It needs something besides +that. When fire's touched to the end of the fuse, no use tryin' to stamp +on the ashes. It is burning toward the powder barrel. The thing's +started. Dick's told it about her----" + +"Told what?" asked Hurley, almost shaking the girl. + +"That she was married back East, long before she come out here, and is +posing here as an unmarried woman. He says he knows the man that was +married to her." + +Hurley was stricken dumb for the moment. Yet recovery was swift. He +stammered: + +"She--she might. It's no crime. She--she might have got a divorce and +taken her maiden name again, if it's true. But I wouldn't take Dick the +Devil's word as to the color of the blue sky." + +"He's got a paper to prove it. I seen him show it to Boss Tolley. I run +to get you. I saw you at the Wild Rose. I figger you are the one to tell +the parson." + +"And who's to tell Betty?" Joe inquired. "I--I----" + +"Oh! What's that?" exclaimed Rosabell, shrinking away. "I--I thought it +was thunder." + +A muttering sound grew in Hurley's hearing, but he paid little attention +to it at first. Was it this Betty had meant all the time, when she had +kept him at arm's length? When she had told him that there was somebody +back East who, at least, had her promise? + +Then the air quaked as though there had been a volcanic upheaval within +the immediate district of Canyon Pass. Rosabell shrieked and ran back +into the gloom, disappearing toward the rear door of the Grub Stake. Joe +ran out into the street, seeing other men coming from the shops and +saloons. + +His gaze by chance was turned upon the wagon track down the slope beyond +the West Fork. He saw a flaming patch of white there. It came down the +wagon track with terrific speed. In a moment he realized that it was a +white pony and rider. + +Lashing the steed the rider forced it into the West Fork. The animal had +to swim for it. It seemed as though the stream had filled terrifically +within the last few minutes. + +Out of the flood scrambled the pony. It was not until then that anybody +recognized Nell Blossom and her cream-colored mount. She urged the horse +up into the town and they heard her clear voice rising above the sullen +thunder of the three rivers: + +"The Overhang! The Overhang! It's down--it's filled the canyon! Runaway +River is stoppered like with a cork in the neck of a bottle. The flood +is coming!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX--HIS LAST CARD + + +Hunt lingered in his sister's room after Joe Hurley had left them. They +were talking when Maria came up to take away the tea things. The Mexican +woman was greatly excited. + +"Those bad men! She get it now--in the neck you say, si? My goodness, +yes! He no run you out of town lak' he say, Senor Hunt." + +"Who is this who wants to run me out?" asked Hunt good-naturedly. "I +must be getting awfully unpopular in some quarters." + +"Those bad man at Tolley's Grub Stake. Ah, yes, Senor! She hate you--my +goodness, yes!" + +Betty began to be troubled--as she always was when she heard her +brother's peace threatened. + +"Have you heard something new, Maria?" she asked the woman. + +"Cholo, he hear. He come just now from the sheriff. A man come to town +and he say he want those bad man." + +"What bad man? Not my brother?" cried Betty. + +"_Madre de Dios!_ Is the Senor Hunt bad?" gasped Maria. "Why, it is Dick +the Deevil I say." + +"Ah-ha!" muttered Hunt, with more interest than surprise. He did not +look at Betty. "This man has something against Dick Beckworth?" + +"Cholo whisper to me, jus' now, before I come up here, that the sheriff +weel arres' Dick the Deevil. For robbery and swindle, you say. Si!" + +"This is news!" ejaculated Hunt, putting on his coat and hat. "I must go +down and get the particulars." + +"Oh, Ford!" + +What Betty might have said--how much she might have betrayed of her +secret to her brother at that moment--will never be known. Before he +could turn to look at her anguished face the house shook, and an +atmospheric tremor seemed to pass over the town. An "airquake" was the +better term for it! And with it they heard a continuous thundering roar +that seemed to mingle with, yet almost drown, the chorus of the rivers +which had been a monotone in their ears all day. + +Maria screamed and flew out of the room. Hunt exclaimed: + +"Something's blown up at one of the mines, perhaps. But Joe is all +right. He could not have got far away from the hotel." + +It was not until he ran down and reached the street that he learned the +truth. Nell had pulled in her wet and exhausted pony before the hotel +and was surrounded by the excited populace. Joe was with her, and Hunt, +seeing both safe, was relieved. + +The parson listened to her story with amazement and some of the dread +that the older inhabitants of Canyon Pass felt. Something like this had +happened twenty years before. She had seen a great landslide--a large +part of the Overhang she thought--fall into the canyon. Already the +rivers were backing up. Filled as they were by the recent unseasonable +rains, the flood, if the canyon bed was really closed by the landslide, +would soon rise into the town. + +Hunt and Hurley joined a party that launched a big batteau to go down +the Runaway to the first turn in the canyon wall to see just what the +danger was. Most of the other inhabitants of Canyon Pass were crowding +into Main Street. It might be that all would have to get back to the +headlands where the mines were in order to escape the flood. + +Betty, alone in her room in the hotel, saw the people milling about +below and could only guess what it meant. She did not dare go down to +ask about the catastrophe, and Maria did not return. But as she sat +there, trembling not altogether from fear of what might happen to the +town, she saw the knob of her door turn slowly. There was somebody in +the hall--somebody coming in! + +In her terror--terror of she knew not what--the girl could not move. She +could only watch the frail door sag slowly open. She saw a hand with a +sparkling diamond upon it. But it was a man's hand. A shoulder appeared +as the door was thrust farther inward. + +Then she saw the face of the intruder. + +"Andy Wilkenson!" + +Betty did not know that her voice was audible. But as the man slid in +with the sleekness of a cat and closed the door behind him, he +whispered: + +"So you know me all right, do you? Then that makes it easier. You've got +to hide me, Betty. They are after me. I got out of the Grub Stake +through a window--just in time." + +He laughed. There was a reckless gayety in his manner that was forced; +but it seemed to Betty more terrible than if he had shown fear. + +"You wouldn't want them to get your husband, would you, honey?" he went +on, his back against the door, his eyes glittering. "And there's going +to be high water. I can't get away at once. I've got to hide. You'll +have to keep me here." He chuckled. "A girl wouldn't give her hubby up +to the sheriff, would she? I----" + +"Go away!" she gasped. + +"Not a chance!" exclaimed Dick lightly. "That sheriff will comb the +town. But he will never come into your bedroom, honey. And I'm going to +stay here till the flurry is over." + +He took a step into the room. Betty shrank from him. Her eyes were now +aflame--and there was something besides fear in them. + +"I will give you time to get out, Andy Wilkenson," she said hoarsely. +"But no more. All I have to do is to raise this window and scream----" + +"Dare to!" he snapped. "I'll stay right here. You're my wife----" + +"Nobody will believe that if I deny it!" she exclaimed. + +"So you think I can't prove it?" He laughed again. "I know that you +would deny it if you could. I know that you even tore up the marriage +certificate that old minister gave you. But I went back to him and got a +copy. And I have got a copy of the license record, and all. Think I'm a +fool? You may have fooled me about your aunt's money; but one never +knows when such a moment as this may come. If you give me up to the +sheriff, I'll tell 'em all just who and what you are. Mrs. Andy +Wilkenson! Sounds good, don't it? And 'Andy Wilkenson' is Dick +Beckworth. Being married under an assumed name don't make the tie any +less binding, Betty. You are married to me hard and fast, and I'm going +to turn the fact to good account. Don't doubt it!" + +"I--I'll call my brother," said Betty weakly. + +"I bet he doesn't know, either. Nor that Joe Hurley you've been chumming +around with," and Dick chuckled hugely. "Oh, I've got you, my girl. You +had the chance to call me, and call me good, that time. But it's my turn +now. You are going to hide me here, and then help me get away. I know +your breed. You'd die rather than let the story of our marriage get to +the people of Canyon Pass." + +The girl sat huddled in the chair by the window. She stared at him with +an intensity of horror that seemed to have paralyzed her whole body. And +what he said--his final declaration--she knew was true. + +She would much rather die than have it revealed to all Canyon Pass that +Dick the Devil was the discarded husband of the Reverend Willett Ford +Hunt's sister! + +The smile with which Dick watched the agonized girl marked the cruelty +that was the underlying trait of his whole character. He knew she +suffered. He knew how she suffered now. And he exulted in it. + +But he was, too, fearful for his own safety. The crime he had committed +miles away across the sheep range, and which had set the sheriff on his +track, was a most despicable one. It was, too, in this community a crime +that might easily excite the passions of the rougher element. Men had +been lynched for much less than Dick Beckworth's crime! + +With night coming on, the waters about the town rising, and no means for +quick egress before morning at least, Dick the Devil realized that his +only hope lay with this tortured girl. Aside from the satisfaction it +gave him to make her shield him, he was quite aware that no better place +than Betty Hunt's room could be imagined in which he might hide from the +officers. + +"There's a closet," he said finally, seeing the small door in the +partition. "Put me in that. You can let your brother in if you like--or +Joe Hurley." He sneered at her. "They'll never believe the proper Betty +Hunt has a man hidden in her room. What's that?" + +He hissed the question, grabbing the handle of the closet door, and +looked back at the one opening from the hall. There was a light step +outside; the door-knob rattled. + +"Quick!" breathed Dick. "Don't say a word----" + +He tried to open the closet door. Although it was a spring latch, it was +likewise locked. All Betty's little valuables were in the closet, and +she had the key. + +"The key!" shrilled the man. "You fool! Do you want me to give the thing +away? As sure as you are alive I'll tell them you're my wife. Quick!" + +Betty did not move. She shook her head. The door-knob was again rattled. +A muffled voice cried: + +"Betty!" + +The knob turned--as it had before, slowly, hesitatingly. The door was +pushed inward. Dick the Devil snatched a pistol from its sling under his +left armpit, with the motion of a rattlesnake about to strike. + +Nell Blossom stepped into the room and closed the door swiftly behind +her. She had seen Betty. Her cry of "Betty! what's happened?" was +answered by a sigh from Dick of such relief that it seemed like a sob. + +Alert as she could be, Nell wheeled to look at the man. Although there +was no light in the room and the evening was drawing on, the singer knew +that half-crouching figure at first glance. She saw, too, the flash of +the weapon in the gambler's hand. + +"Dick Beckworth! I might have known you'd come sneaking to a girl's room +to hide," said Nell, her voice quite unshaken. "Put away that gun. I'm +not the sheriff." + +Dick was silent. But he had the grace to put away his gun. Nell said to +Betty: + +"Has he scared you, honey? Don't you mind. Dick the Devil has got his +comeupance this time, I reckon. The minute he steps out of this house +they'll nab him. Somebody saw him sneak in by the back way. But nobody +thought of his daring to come into your room. Come on, you, get out! +Take your miserable carcass off to some other part of the house." + +"Oh, Nell!" breathed Betty. + +"Don't you be afraid, honey," said the cabaret singer again. "This +rascal knows me, I reckon. It's too bad he wasn't killed--like I thought +he was--back last spring when I was fool enough to be caught by his sleek +ways and talk. Oh, yes! I played the fool. And I come pretty near +believing since that time that there wasn't any decent men in the world. +All because of that whelp." + +For once Dick Beckworth had nothing to say. At another time he might +have flouted the girl. But the moment was not propitious. He stood and +glared from Nell to Betty, and back again; but said nothing. + +"Come! Beat it!" said Nell harshly. "Don't you hear me?" + +"I am going to remain here," Dick said in a low voice. "Right here." + +"Not much!" Nell wheeled to open the door. "I'll call 'em up. They are +watching for you below." + +"Nell!" gasped Betty. + +"You better speak for me," sneered Dick. "I don't reckon that you two +girls will turn me over to the sheriff. Don't forget, Nellie, that once +I was your honey-boy." + +The mining-camp girl's whole person seemed to fire under this spur. Her +face blazed. She was tense with wrath--wrath that she could not for the +moment audibly express. + +But when she did speak her voice was as hard as ice and her accents as +cold: + +"Dick Beckworth, you get out of here! March!" + +"Not much." + +Nell had been riding. She never went abroad on horseback without wearing +her belt and gun. The latter flashed into her hand too quickly for Dick +to have again produced his weapon, had he so desired. + +"Put 'em up!" was Nell's concise command. "Don't flutter a finger wrong. +I been thinking for months that I saw you go over that cliff to your +death. Maybe I worried some over being the possible cause of your taking +that drop. But I feel a whole lot different about you now, Dick +Beckworth. Keep your hands up and march out of this room." + +The man, sneering, his countenance torn with emotion, his eyes as +glittering as those of an angered serpent, came forward into the middle +of the room again. He was staring at Betty rather than at Nell. He said +to the former: + +"You going to let me go out, Betty?" + +"Oh! Oh! I----" + +"Don't mind even to answer him--the dog!" Nell muttered. "I swear, after +this, I would not lift a hand to stop the boys from stringing him up." + +"Is that so?" queried Dick, turning to her again. "You think you've got +things your own way, don't you? I'll show you. Betty! tell this girl +what and who I am and why I am not going to leave this room. Tell her, +my dear, why you can't bear to see me given up to the sheriff." + +"You dog!" ejaculated Nell. + +"Tell her, Betty," commanded Dick, but without raising his voice. + +The parson's sister, fairly writhing in her chair, put up her clasped +hands to Nell. She whispered brokenly: + +"Don't--don't send him out. Don't tell, Nell. I--I couldn't bear it!" + +"In the name of common sense," queried the singer, "what do you mean? +This fellow's frightened you out of your wits." + +"No, no! For my sake----" + +"You're crazy. He can't hurt you. I have him under my gun. If he makes a +move----" + +"Betty!" shot in Dick. + +"For Ford's sake let him stay!" begged Betty, and sank back in her chair +again, almost at the point of collapse. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX--CLEARING SKIES + + +Betty Hunt had, after all, retained her self-possession in a +considerable degree throughout this trying interview. Dick Beckworth's +appearance had startled her; but already she had schooled her mind to +expecting an interview with him. + +Really, the coming of Nell Blossom and what had followed her entrance +had disturbed Betty more than Dick's appearance. But now she had got a +clutch again upon her mental processes and at this moment, when Dick was +about to reveal to the cabaret singer the fact that Betty was his wife, +the Eastern girl apprehended and seized upon the plea she believed +would, more than any other, cause Nell to let the villain remain without +question. + +For, with the hotel surrounded and the officers searching for Dick, it +was probable that the moment he stepped out of the room he would be +caught. So Betty cried: + +"For Ford's sake let him stay!" + +It was, after all, a shot in the dark. Betty had not been sure up to +this moment that Nell really felt toward the parson as his sister knew +Hunt felt toward Nell. But she was in a desperate plight. Betty could +not bear to have even her girl friend know of her relation to Dick +Beckworth, not as Dick would tell it! And if the villain spread the tale +as he promised, Betty knew that her brother's work might be greatly +injured even in such a community as Canyon Pass. + +For after all, although the mining town was not like Ditson Corners, +human nature is about the same everywhere. Betty had done nothing +disgraceful in marrying Dick Beckworth and leaving him so abruptly. But +for hiding the unfortunate alliance and posing here as an unmarried +girl, the tongue of gossip would undoubtedly drag both her own name and +Ford's through the mire of half-truths and suppositions. + +If Nell loved Ford and thought that Dick might reveal something that +would injure the parson, Betty hoped the singer would relent. Afterward +she could in her own way explain to Nell. + +The latter stared now at Betty; but Dick was quite in the line of her +gun and her hand did not tremble. + +"You--you mean he's got something on the parson?" she asked. + +Dick grinned. Betty tried to speak. Before another word could be said, +however, there was a sudden outbreak of sound from below and loud voices +on the stair. + +"Betty!" shouted Joe Hurley's voice. + +"Is Nell Blossom there?" called Hunt. + +Both young men were tramping up to this very room. They would be here in +thirty seconds. + +Betty came to her feet as though galvanized by an electric shock. She +fumbled in her bosom and drew forth the key of the closet door. She +extended it to Dick. + +"Let him--let him hide!" she gasped. + +Nell lowered her gun. Dick grabbed the key, the grin on his face +demoniac, and leaped across the floor on the balls of his feet. In a +flash he had the door open, was inside, the door closed and the spring +lock snapped. Nell thrust the gun back into its holster. Came a +thunderous knock upon the door. + +"Girls!" shouted Hunt, "may we come in?" + +Betty and Nell looked at each other. The latter sat down on the bed. +Betty dropped back into her chair. + +"Of course you may come in, Ford," she said in a voice that, if not +unshaken, seemed calm to the ears of the men. + +Hunt and Hurley, both splashed with mud, appeared at the open door. + +"Pack a bag, Betty," said her brother. "The water is backing up into the +town, and although we don't believe it will rise high, it may come in +over the lower floor. It won't be pleasant here to-night. Joe suggests +that we take you both up to his office at the Great Hope. That can be +made comfortable for you until we see just how bad a time Canyon Pass is +in for." + +"If you say so," said Betty in a low voice. "Will you go, Nell?" + +"Sure," declared the other girl. + +She thought that probably anything was better for Betty than to remain +here. In ten minutes they set forth, hurrying down and out of the hotel. +Sheriff Blaney, and a red-faced man whom Betty remembered having seen +before on the Hoskins trail hunting a fugitive, was on the porch. + +"Derned funny where that Dick Beckworth has holed up," Blaney was +saying. "But he can't get out of town to-night, that's sure." + +That was a night scarcely to be forgotten in the annals of Canyon Pass. +The people streamed up the muddy roads on to the highlands all night +long while the waters rose higher and higher. They could hear toward +morning the crashing of undermined buildings, but not until dawn did the +fugitives learn all the damage of the flood. + +Then, just before sunrise, there sounded several tremendous explosions +from below, in the canyon. Joe Hurley and a gang of engineers had been +down there all night, and the several charges of dynamite they put in at +the barrier across the river brought the relief that had been hoped. In +an hour a way was burst through the wall of fallen debris and the mad +waters tore a passage to freedom. + +The flood began to recede, and by the time the expedition got back from +the canyon in the batteau, the mud hole of Main Street could be seen +again from the site of the Great Hope. Joe Hurley looked grave, however, +when he rejoined his friends in the little shack of an office. + +"It's done a sight of damage," the mining man said. "A lot of folks will +have to double up till new shacks can be built. The church--Tolley's old +place--is standing, Willie." + +"I see it is," returned the parson. "But I miss some buildings----" + +"You miss one in particular," said his friend quickly. "I don't know but +you and Betty are chief among the flood sufferers." + +"What do you mean, Joe?" Betty asked quickly. + +"The hotel. It was undermined and is in ruins; looks like it had been +rammed. Oh!" as he saw Betty pale, "nobody was hurt. Cholo Sam and Maria +are safe. Fact is, not a life lost as far as we know. It might have been +a whole lot worse. We had great luck." + +"Great luck!" murmured Betty, looking at Nell, whose face likewise +showed a strange anxiety. + +"Talking about luck," added Hurley suddenly. "What do you know about old +Steve and Andy? They've been out all night." + +"What do you mean?" asked Hunt. "They haven't gone back to the desert?" + +"Not on your life. They've been prospecting where they prospected twenty +years ago. Or that's what I figger. Just at dawn, after we let off those +shots that started the dam-busting, I spied 'em prowling around up there +on the side of the canyon. Reckless as kids, those old tykes are. Might +another slip come 'most any time." + +"Oh!" said Betty, "I hope you did not leave them in danger, Joe." + +"If they were, I couldn't help 'em," Hurley replied. "You can't +influence those old desert rats any more than you could lead an iron +horse to drink. No, sir! Steve and Andy were up there on a shelf that +was uncovered by the last slip, a-holding hands and ghost-dancing like a +couple of Piute Injuns. Acted plumb crazy. + +"They must have swum the West Fork to get there. And I bet they didn't +go together. But when they got up there and saw the way open----" + +"To what?" interrupted Nell. "You haven't told us what they found." + +"That's so," chuckled Joe. "They've found something all right. I reckon +Steve and Andy can't be fooled when it comes to 'color.' They certainly +have made a ten-strike. Steve shouted down to me that the slip had +uncovered the mother lode. Of course, they are claiming everything in +sight. Got their claims staked out, and if it's really a sure-enough +find I expect there will be a small stampede to that side of the canyon. +There's gold all through those cliffs. This is a gold country. Some day +they'll find out how to work the Topaz Desert as a paying proposition. +The wash from these headlands and the canyon sides has been carried out +into the desert by the Runaway for a couple of million years--more or +less." + +"Anyway," said Nell, her eyes sparkling, "the old-timers are going to be +rich at last? How fine!" + +"It may only be a pocket--or a broken lead. But I wish 'em both +millionaires. Me, I'll stick to the Great Hope a while longer." He +looked at Betty. "I am a great feller for sticking to a thing." + +Betty blushed and looked away. Hunt said thoughtfully: + +"If the slide has only caused Siebert and McCann to be friends again, it +has brought about something good--something very good indeed." + +"Well, you talk to Judson about that. His stock is pretty near ruined. +And see Tolley. He's almost weeping. And Colorado Brown. To say nothing +of Cholo Sam, who has lost his hotel." + +The girls again looked at each other. There was the same thought in +their minds. What had become of Dick Beckworth if the hotel had +collapsed? Of course there had been plenty of time for him to have +escaped from the building before it went down. None of the structures +had fallen much before daybreak. Yet thought of him continued to trouble +the girls. + +Joe Hurley got Betty off to one side. There was no work being done at +any of the mines, so the owner of the Great Hope had nothing to do at +this hour. Having been at work all night it might be supposed that he +would need sleep; but when he looked on Betty Hunt his gaze was anything +but somnolent. + +"There's a whole lot been happening in a few short hours, Betty," he +said to the parson's sister. "It come on us so quick and it happened so +fast that it put out of my head for the time being something I had to +say to you." + +"Something--Nothing you shouldn't say, Joe?" she stammered, looking at +him with pleading eyes. + +"I get you, Betty," said the mining man. "I get you--sure. You are +warning me off the grass. I don't blame you. You think I am kind of +dense, I expect----" + +"Oh, never that, Joe," she murmured. "You are kind and thoughtful only." + +"I hope you will believe so," said Joe bluntly, "when I tell you I know +what your trouble is--and I know there ain't no chance for me now. But I +am going to be your friend just as you said I could." + +"Oh! Joe, do you know?" + +"I got wind of a story Dick Beckworth's been telling--about your being +already married. It's so, isn't it?" + +Betty, her face working pitifully, nodded. + +"All right. We won't say no more about it. He's a low dog for telling +about it. I don't want to know no more--not even who the feller is who +married you. But you can bank on me, Betty, every time! I'm your +friend." + +"I know you are, Joe," she whispered, and the look she gave him paid Joe +Hurley for a good deal. + +But he was by no means satisfied to consider that Betty Hunt's marriage +closed the door of paradise in his face. He was just as determined to +get her as ever he had been. He had learned the great thing that he had +desired to know. Betty loved him. He had seen it in her look! He could +wait, and be patient, and let things take their course. She could be +wedded to another man as hard and fast as all the laws could make it. +But Joe Hurley felt a glory in his soul that expanded from the +heaven-born belief that time would change all that! + +They started down into the town, the girls shod with rubber boots that +Joe supplied. The people of Canyon Pass were running about like muddy +ants seeking their flooded hills. Mother Tubbs and Sam were high and dry +in the loft of the stamp mill. The old woman had made Sam lug up there +her one good feather-bed--and it was dry. But as she said, she expected +to find all her other possessions "as wet as a frog's hind leg." + +Bill Judson lounged in the doorway of the Three Star and hailed them +with some cheerfulness. + +"There's one sure thing, Parson Hunt," he said. "What I got in cans +ain't water-soaked--much. And the cat and six kittens ain't drowned. I +expect I can keep shop with what I got left for a while. But Smithy's +lost all his clo'es that's fit to wear, dad burn it! I can't have him +waitin' on lady customers in a gunny-sack and a pair of ridin' boots." + +A little group surrounded Sheriff Blaney on the street as the quartette +strolled along. Joe was interested. + +"Find him, Blaney?" he asked the officer. + +"Not any. And it beats my time. I don't see where that Dick Beckworth +could have holed up. He sure didn't get out of town, for the Forks are +both plumb impassable for man or beast." + +The two girls exchanged glances again. What had happened to Dick +Beckworth? Surely he must have got out of the closet--out of the hotel---- + +Suddenly Betty seized Nell's arm with an hysterical grip. + +"Nell! Nell!" she whispered. + +"Don't give way. Of course he's all right--though he ought not to be!" + +"That closet door! It shut with a spring lock. It could not be opened +from inside!" + +"Oh, he could smash down the door." + +The two young men did not notice the girls' perturbation. They were +striding ahead. A crowd was running toward the fallen hotel. Something +of moment was happening there. But before they reached the place Cholo +Sam saw them, and started toward the parson and Joe. + +"Senor Hunt! Senor Joe! Keep the senoritas back. It is not for them to +see." + +"What's the matter, Sam?" asked Hurley. + +"That Dick the Deevil! He ees found--my goodness, yes! They haf just +pulled him out of the ruins of my Wild Rose--drowned like one rat!" + + * * * * * + +Fortunately for Canyon Pass and its flood-harassed inhabitants, frost +and snow held off that winter until remarkably late. The mild season +gave ample opportunity for new homes to be built and for the necessary +repairs to be made upon the structures that had withstood the rising +waters. + +The supply wagons brought in quantities of necessary goods from Crescent +City and the railroads. The mines and washings shut down while all +turned to the work of rebuilding. Tolley's Grub Stake and Colorado +Brown's place, both swept by the water, were the last buildings to be +remodeled. The gamblers and dance-hall girls and other employees of +those places left town, for it promised to be a lean winter for their +ilk at Canyon Pass. + +In fact, Boss Tolley sold out and got out himself among the very first +to desert the town. His departure and the sale of all his property +opened the way for Parson Hunt's supporters to buy from the purchaser of +Tolley's property the building which had been used for church services +and the lot on which it stood. + +They could not begin the building of a proper church until spring, of +course; but the money was pledged for an edifice that would cost all Joe +Hurley had planned. + +Hurley himself was able to subscribe a much larger sum than at first, +for the Great Hope had proved to be as valuable a mine as he had told +Betty and the parson he believed it would. But it was from another +source that the church building fund gained its largest contribution. + +Old Steve Siebert and Andy McCann had "struck it rich." The romance of +the uncovering of a rich vein of gold in the west wall of the canyon is +told to-day to every tourist who comes to Canyon Pass. + +How, at a time in the camp's early history, two partners who had +prospected the Topaz Range and the desert adjoining fruitlessly for +years had found traces of gold high up on the canyon wall behind a +sheltering ledge and had "locked horns" in their first quarrel over how +the lode was to be got at. + +At the height of their argument a landslip had buried the hollow where +the rich find was located and, rather than that either should profit by +the joint find, the two old fellows had never tried to open the claim +until nature, by another freak, uncovered it for them. + +"I says to Andy, and Andy says to me," Steve Siebert was wont to recall, +"when we seen how rich that lode was, a part of our profits oughter go +to the parson and his church." + +"You're mighty right we did," agreed Andy. Agreeing was now Andy's +strongest trait. "We-all got to pull together in this world. And if +we-all pull together yere in Canyon Pass we can have as good a church as +any camp needs. We sure got the best parson." + +"You're right, Andy," Steve said. "I certainly do despise folks that are +always fighting each other and pullin' contrary. No sense in it--no sense +a-tall." + +In fact the two old fellows became joint treasurers of the church +building fund. They took it upon themselves, too, to pass the +contribution plates at service. The only friction Andy McCann and Steve +Siebert were ever known to display thereafter was a mild rivalry as to +the amount of money collected from the congregation seated on their +particular sides of the house. It was suspected that each swelled his +collection considerably on Sunday mornings so that his half of the house +would make the best showing when the offering was counted! + +"Dad burn it!" muttered Bill Judson, "let 'em alone. That's a mild +matter for disagreement. They ain't likely to pull no guns on each other +over that." + +Indeed Canyon Pass was on its good behavior that winter. The exigencies +of the flood which had driven out a good deal of the worst element of +the town gave the better people a chance to take hold of its government +with a firmer hand--and a hand that Hunt and his associates were +determined should not again lose its grip. Even Slickpenny Norris in +time came to see that religious progress was not actually synonymous +with bankruptcy. + +To the parson's standard flocked many of those who had before been but +lukewarm. Not least of his new helpers was the erstwhile cabaret singer. +Nell Blossom proved her value in the work to be quite all that Hunt had +hoped. + +This busy time, when Joe Hurley and Betty really were so wrapped up in +each other that they could scarcely be expected to be of value to +anybody but themselves, the parson found in Nell Blossom a willing and +efficient aid. They were both earnest in the cause, and so earnest that +it seemed they had little thought for extraneous matters. Yet on one +occasion when they were looking over the blueprints of the proposed +church edifice, Nell slipped an extra sheet of plans into sight from +beneath those of the church. + +"Why, what is this, Ford?" she asked. + +"Oh, yes! I wanted to show you that, Nell. And get your approval." + +"My approval?" + +"Er--yes. You see, I've bought the lot right next to the church site. +Now, this cottage--er---- Here! Let me show you. We can have the mill work +for it shipped in with the church stuff. The same gang that builds the +church can run the house up. There's the front elevation. Say, Nell, how +do you like it?" + +"Why, it's lovely!" she cried. + +"Do you think it's nice enough for a parson's wife to live in?" + +"Ford! Mr. Hunt! I----" + +"Better let the 'Mr. Hunt' stuff slide, Nell Blossom," he said, getting +hold of her hand. "Even a minister's wife is supposed to call her +husband by his first name--at least, in private." + +"Oh, Ford!" + +"That's better." + +"But--but I am not fit to be a parson's wife, Ford," she cried, +trembling. + +"Do you know, sometimes I've half believed I wasn't fit to be a parson? +But it's my job and I'm going to do the best I can with it. And--I need +your help, Nell Blossom." + +"I came out here to try to win the heart of Canyon Pass. I found +it--almost as soon as I arrived. But I thought for a long time that it +never would be mine. I am bold enough now, Nell, to believe that I may +win it." + +He smiled at her with such affection in his gaze, such a warmth of +comprehension as well as desire, that Nell Blossom, tearful, trembling, +half fearful, swayed toward him and felt again his strong arms about +her. + +"If--if I can only be worthy of you, Ford. If I don't disgrace you," she +sobbed. "Just think! A singer all my life in those ugly cabarets----" + +"Ah, yes," said the Reverend Willett Ford Hunt quietly. "And only for a +difference in environment I might have been a part of the most reckless +audience you ever had to sing to. We will let the past bury the past, +Nell. We have only to deal with the future." + +And he held her to him close. + + THE END + + + + +Popular Copyright Novels + +AT MODERATE PRICES + +Ask Your Dealer for a Complete List of +A. L. Burt Company's Popular Copyright Fiction + + Adventures of Jimmie Dale, The. By Frank L. Packard. + Adventures of Sherlock Holmes. By A. Conan Doyle. + Affinities, and Other Stories. By Mary Roberts Rinehart. + After House, The. By Mary Roberts Rinehart. + Against the Winds. By Kate Jordan. + Ailsa Paige. By Robert W. Chambers. + Also Ran. By Mrs. Baillie Reynolds. + Amateur Gentleman, The. By Jeffery Farnol. + Anderson Crow, Detective. By George Barr McCutcheon. + Anna, the Adventuress. By E. 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