diff options
| author | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-02-06 01:21:28 -0800 |
|---|---|---|
| committer | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-02-06 01:21:28 -0800 |
| commit | 8cd3b215faea3f0b441a3dabafe0c9ed3febb989 (patch) | |
| tree | 35ea775a606dd5167d6e697b4db247304e880d94 /old/52461-0.txt | |
| parent | cea38678bf8705c42b2050679cb411c1694c5b98 (diff) | |
Diffstat (limited to 'old/52461-0.txt')
| -rw-r--r-- | old/52461-0.txt | 12698 |
1 files changed, 0 insertions, 12698 deletions
diff --git a/old/52461-0.txt b/old/52461-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index f075215..0000000 --- a/old/52461-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,12698 +0,0 @@ -Project Gutenberg's The Treasure of Hidden Valley, by Willis George -Emerson - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll -have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using -this ebook. - -Title: The Treasure of Hidden Valley - -Author: Willis George Emerson - -Release Date: June 30, 2016 [EBook #52461] Last Updated: August 2, 2016 - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TREASURE OF HIDDEN VALLEY -*** - - - - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously provided by Google -Books - - - - -THE TREASURE OF HIDDEN VALLEY - -By Willis George Emerson - -Chicago: Forbes & Company - -1915 - - - -Sons of the rugged, rock-ribbed hills, - -Far from the gaudy show - -Of Fashion’s world-its shams and frills - -Brothers of rain and snow: - -Kith of the crags and the forest pines, - -Kin of the herd and flock; - -Wise in the lore of Nature signs - -Writ in the grass and rock. - - -Beings of lithe and lusty limb, - -Breathing the broad, new life, - -Chanting the forest’s primal hymn - -Free from the world’s crude strife. - -Your witching lure my being thrills, - -O rugged sons! O rugged hills! - - - -DEDICATED TO THE MEMORY OF MY FATHER REVEREND STEPHEN LAFAYETTE EMERSON -(The Flockmaster of this story) - - - -CONTENTS - -THE TREASURE OF HIDDEN VALLEY - -CHAPTER I—AT THE PARTING OF THE WAYS - -CHAPTER II—A MESSAGE FROM THE GRAVE - -CHAPTER III—FINANCIAL WOLVES - -CHAPTER IV.—THE COLLEGE WIDOW - -CHAPTER V.—WESTWARD HO! - -CHAPTER VI.—RODERICK MEETS JIM RANKIN - -CHAPTER VII—GETTING ACQUAINTED - -CHAPTER VIII.—A PHILOSOPHER AMONG THE MOUNTAINS - -CHAPTER IX—THE HIDDEN VALLEY - -CHAPTER X.—THE FAIR RIDER OF THE RANGE - -CHAPTER XI.—WINTER PASSES - -CHAPTER XII—THE MAJOR’S FIND - -CHAPTER XIV.—THE EVENING PARTY - -CHAPTER XV.—BRONCHO-BUSTING - -CHAPTER XVI.—THE MYSTERIOUS TOILERS OF THE NIGHT - -CHAPTER XVII—A TROUT FISHING EPISODE - -CHAPTER XVIII.—A COUNTRY FAIR ON THE FRONTIER - -CHAPTER XIX.—A LETTER FROM THE COLLEGE WIDOW - -CHAPTER XX.—THE STORE OF GOLD - -CHAPTER XXI.—A WARNING - -CHAPTER XXII.—THE TRAGEDY AT JACK CREEK - -CHAPTER XXIII.—THE FIGHT ON THE ROAD - -CHAPTER XXIV—SUMMER DAYS - -CHAPTER XXV.—RUNNING FOR STATE SENATOR - -CHAPTER XXVI.—UNEXPECTED POLITICAL HARMONY - -CHAPTER XXVII.—THE UPLIFTING OF HUMANITY - -CHAPTER XXVIII.—JUSTICE FOR THE WORKERS - -CHAPTER XXIX.—SLEIGH BELLS - -CHAPTER XXX.—WHITLEY ADAMS BLOWS IN - -CHAPTER XXXI.—RODERICK’S DISCOVERY - -CHAPTER XXXII.—STAKING THE CLAIMS - -CHAPTER XXXIII—THE SNOW SLIDE - -CHAPTER XXXIV—THE PASSING OF GRANT JONES - -CHAPTER XXXV.—A CALL TO SAN FRANCISCO - -CHAPTER XXXVI—IN THE CITY THAT NEVER SLEEPS - -CHAPTER XXXVII—RODERICK RESCUES GAIL - -CHAPTER XXXVIII—THE SEARCH FOR RODERICK - -CHAPTER XXXIX—REUNIONS - -CHAPTER XL—BUELL HAMPTON’S GOOD-BY - -CHAPTER XLI.—-UNDER THE BIG PINE - -AFTERWORD - - - - -THE TREASURE OF HIDDEN VALLEY - - - - -CHAPTER I—AT THE PARTING OF THE WAYS - -IT was a dear, crisp October morning. There was a shrill whistle of a -locomotive, and then a westbound passenger train dashed into the depot -of an Iowa town. A young man descended the car steps with an armful of -luggage. He deposited his parcels on the platform, and half expectantly -looked about him. - -Just then there was a “honk! honk!” from a huge automobile as it -came to a palpitating halt, and a familiar voice called out: “Hello, -Roderick, old man!” And a moment later Roderick Warfield was shaking -hands with his boon friend of former college days, Whitley Adams. Both -were in their early twenties, stalwart, well set up, clean-cut young -fellows. - -Whitley’s face was all aglow in the happiness of reunion. But -Roderick, after the first cordial greeting, wore a graver look. He -listened quietly while his comrade rambled on. - -“Mighty glad to receive your wire last night at the club. But what -brings you home so unexpectedly? We’ve been hearing all sorts of -glowing stories—about your being in the thick of affairs in little old -New York and rolling in the shekels to beat the band.” - -“Fairy tales,” was the laconic reply, accompanied by a look that was -compounded of a sigh and a wistful smile. - -“How’s that?” asked young Adams, glancing up into the other’s -face and for the first time noticing its serious expression. “Don’t -tell me you’ve struck a financial snag thus early in your Stock -Exchange career.” - -“Several financial snags—and struck ‘em pretty badly too, I’m -afraid.” - -“Whew!” exclaimed Adams. - -“Oh, I’m not down and out,” laughed Roderick, half amused at the -look of utter discomfiture on his companion’s countenance. “Not by -a long chalk! I’m in on several good deals, and six months from -date will be standing on velvet. That is to say,” he added, somewhat -dubiously, “if Uncle Allen opens up his money bags to tide me over -meanwhile.” - -“A pretty big ‘if,’ eh?” For the moment there was sympathetic -sobriety in the youth’s tone, but he quickly regained his -cheerfulness. “However, he’ll come through probably all right, Rod, -dear boy. It’s the older fellows’ privilege, isn’t it? My good dad -has had the same experience, as you will no doubt have guessed. There, -let me see; how long have you been away? Eight months! Gee! However, -I have just gotten home myself. My old man was a bit furious at my -tardiness in coming and the geometrical increase of my expense account. -To do Los Angeles and San Francisco thoroughly, you know, runs into a -pot of money. But now everything is fixed up after a fashion with no -evidence in sight of further squalls.” He laughed the laugh of an -overgrown boy laboring under the delusion that because he has finished a -collegiate course he is a “man.” - -“Of course,” he continued with a swagger, “we chaps who put in -four long years at college should not be expected to settle down without -having some sort of a valedictory fling.” - -“There has not been much of a fling in my case,” protested Warfield. -“I tackled life seriously in New York from the start.” - -“But got a tumble all the same,” grinned Adams. “However, -there’s no use in pulling a long face—at least not until your Uncle -Allen has been interviewed and judiciously put through his paces. Come -now, let us get your things aboard.” - -The conversation was halted while the young owner of the big 60 H. P. -car helped his chauffeur to stow away the luggage. “To the club,” -he called out as he seated himself in the tonneau with his boyhood -friend—college chum and classmate. - -“Not this morning!” exclaimed Roderick, shaking his head as he -looked frankly and a bit nervously into the eyes of Whitley Adams. “No -club for me until I have squared things up on the hill.” - -“Oh, well, just as you say; if it’s as bad as that, why of -course—” He broke off and did not finish the sentence, but directed -the chauffeur to the residence of Allen Miller, the banker. - -They rode a little way in silence and then Whitley Adams observed: -“You’ve made a muddle of things, no doubt,” and he turned with a -knowing look and a smile toward Roderick, who in turn flushed, as though -hit. - -“No doubt,” he concurred curtly. - -“Then when shall I see you?” asked Whitley as the auto slowed down -at the approach to the stately Miller home. - -“I’ll ‘phone you,” replied Roderick. “Think I can arrange to -be at the club this evening.” - -“Very well,” said his friend, and a minute later he had whirled away -leaving a cloud of dust in the trail of the machine. - -Roderick Warfield met with a motherly reception at the hands of his Aunt -Lois, Mrs. Allen Miller. The greetings over and a score of solicitous -questions by his Aunt Lois answered, he went to his room for a bath and -a change of clothes. Then without further delay he presented himself at -the bank, and in a few moments was closeted in the president’s private -room with his uncle and guardian, Allen Miller. - -The first friendly greetings were soon followed by the banker skidding -from social to business considerations. “Yes,” said Allen Miller, -“I am glad to see you, Roderick, mighty glad. But what do you mean by -writing a day ahead that a good big sum is required immediately, this -without mention of securities or explanation of any kind?” He held up -in his hand a letter that ran to just a few niggardly lines. “This -apology for a business communication only reached me by last night’s -mail.” - -The kindly look of greeting had changed to one that was fairly flinty -in its hardness. “What am I to expect from such a demand? A bunch of -unpaid accounts, I suppose.” As he uttered this last sentence, there -was a wicked twang in his voice—a suggestion of the snarl of an angry -wolf ready for a fierce encounter. It at least proved him a financier. - -A flush of resentment stole over Roderick’s brow. His look was more -than half-defiant. On his side it showed at once that there would be no -cringing for the favor he had come to ask. - -But he controlled himself, and spoke with perfect calm. - -“My obligations are not necessarily disgraceful ones, as your manner -and tone, Uncle, might imply. As for any detailed explanation by -letter, I thought it best to come and put the whole business before you -personally.” - -“And the nature of the business?” asked the banker in a dry harsh -voice. - -“I am in a big deal and have to find my pro ratâ contribution -immediately.” - -“A speculative deal?” rasped the old man. - -“Yes; I suppose it would be called speculative, but it is gilt-edged -all the same. I have all the papers here, and will show them to you.” -He plunged a hand into the breast pocket of his coat and produced a -neatly folded little bundle of documents. - -“Stop,” exclaimed the banker. “You need not even undo that piece -of tape until you have answered my questions. A speculative deal, you -admit.” - -“Be it so.” - -“A mining deal, may I ask?” - -Roderick’s face showed some confusion. But he faced the issue promptly -and squarely. - -“Yes, sir, a mining deal.” - -The banker’s eyes fairly glittered with steely wrathfulness. - -“As I expected. By gad, it seems to run in the blood! Did I not warn -you, when you insisted on risking your meagre capital of two thousand -dollars in New York instead of settling down with what would have been -a comfortable nest egg here, that if you ever touched mining it would -be your ruin? Did I not tell you your father’s story, how the lure -of prospecting possessed him, how he could never throw it off, how it -doomed him to a life of hardship and poverty, and how it would have left -you, his child, a pauper but for an insurance policy which it was his -one redeeming act of prudence in carrying?” - -“Please do not speak like that of my father,” protested Roderick, -drawing himself up with proud - -The banker’s manner softened; a kindlier glow came into his eyes. - -“Well, boy, you know I loved your father. If your father had only -followed my path he would have shared my prosperity. But it was not to -be. He lost all he ever made in mining, and now you are flinging the -little provision his death secured for you into the same bottomless -pool. And this despite all my warnings, despite my stern injunctions -so long as it was my right as your guardian to enjoin. The whole thing -disgusts me more than words can tell.” - -Into the banker’s voice the old bitterness, if not the anger, had -returned. He rose and restlessly paced the room. A silence followed that -was oppressive. Roderick Warfield’s mind was in the future; he was -wondering what would happen should his uncle remain obdurate. The older -man’s mind was in the past; he was recalling events of the long ago. - -Roderick Warfield’s father and Allen Miller had as young men braved -perils together in an unsuccessful overland trip when the great -California gold rush in the early fifties occurred. At that time they -were only boys in their ‘teens. Years afterward they married sisters -and settled down in their Iowa homes—or tried to settle down in -Warfield’s case, for in his wanderings he had been smitten with the -gold fever and he remained a mining nomad to the end of his days. Allen -Miller had never been blessed with a child, and it was not until late in -their married life that any addition came to the Warfield family. -This was the beginning of Roderick Warfield’s career, but cost the -mother’s life. Ten years later John Warfield died and his young son -Roderick was given a home with Mr. and Mrs. Allen Miller, the banker -accepting the guardianship of his old friend’s only child. - -The boy’s inheritance was limited to a few thousand dollars of life -insurance, which in the hands of anyone but Allen Miller would have -fallen far short of putting him through college. However, that was not -only accomplished, but at the close of a fairly brilliant college career -the young man had found himself possessed of a round couple of thousand -dollars. Among his college friends had been the son of a well-to-do New -York broker, and it was on this friend’s advice that Roderick had -at the outset of his business life adventured the maelstrom of Gotham -instead of accepting the placid backwaters of his Iowan home town. Hence -the young man’s present difficulties and precarious future, and -his uncle’s bitterness of spirit because all his past efforts on -Roderick’s account had proved of such little avail. - -At last the banker resumed his chair. The tightly closed lips showed -that his mind was made up to a definite line of action. Roderick awaited -the decision in silence—it was not in his nature to plead a cause -at the cost of losing his own self-respect He had already returned the -unopened bundle of mining papers to the inner pocket of his coat. - -“As for any advance to meet speculative mining commitments,” began -the man of finance, “I do not even desire to know the amount you -have had in mind. That is a proposition I cannot even entertain—on -principle and for your own ultimate good, young man.” - -“Then I lose all the money I have put in to date.” - -“Better a present loss than hopeless future entanglements. Your -personal obligations? As you have been using all available funds for -speculation, I presume you are not free from some debts.” - -“Less than a thousand dollars all told.” - -“Well, you have, I believe, $285.75 standing to your personal credit -in this bank—the remnant of your patrimony.” - -“I did not know I had so much,” remarked Roderick with a faint -smile. - -“All the better, perhaps,” replied the banker, also smiling grimly. -“The amount would have doubtless been swallowed up with the rest of -your money. As matters stand, some payment can be made to account -of your obligations and arrangements entered into for the gradual -liquidation of the outstanding balance.” Young Warfield winced. The -banker continued: “This may involve some personal humiliation for you. -But again it is against my principles to pay any man’s debts. Anyone -who deliberately incurs a liability should have the highly beneficial -experience of earning the money to liquidate it I propose to give you -the chance to do so.” - -Roderick raised his eyebrows in some surprise. “In New York?” he -enquired. - -“No, sir,” replied Allen Miller rather brusquely and evidently -nettled at the very audacity of the question. “Not in New York, but -right here—in Keokuk. Calm your impatience, please. Just listen to the -proposals I have to make—they have been carefully thought out by me -and by your Aunt Lois as well. In the first place, despite your rather -reckless and improvident start in life, I am prepared to make you -assistant cashier of this bank at a good salary.” Again Roderick -evinced amazement. He was quite nonplussed at his uncle’s changed -demeanor. The conciliatory manner and kindly tone disarmed him. But -could he ever come to renounce his New York ambitions for humdrum -existence in the old river town of Keokuk? He knew the answer in his -heart. The thing was impossible. - -“And if you are diligent,” continued the banker, “prove capable -and make good, you may expect in time to be rewarded with a liberal -block of stock in the bank. Come now, what do you say to this part of my -programme?” urged the speaker as Roderick hesitated. - -The young man’s mind was already made up. The offer was not even worth -considering. And yet, he must not offend his guardian. It was true, -Allen Miller’s guardianship days were past, but still in his rapid -mental calculations Roderick thought of his stanch old stand-by, Uncle -Allen Miller, as “Guardian.” He lighted a cigar to gain time for the -framing of a diplomatic answer. - -“Well,” said the banker, with a rising inflection, “does it -require any time to consider the generous offer I make?” - -Roderick pulled a long breath at his cigar and blew rings of smoke -toward the ceiling, and said: “Your offer, Uncle, is princely, but I -hardly feel that I should accept until I have thought it all over from -different points of view and have the whole question of my future plans -fully considered. What are the other items on your programme?” - -“They should be rather counted as conditions,” replied the banker -drily. “The conditions on which the offer I have just made are -based.” - -“And they are what?” - -“You must quit speculation, give up all expensive habits, marry and -settle down.” The words were spoken with all the definiteness of an -ultimatum. - -Again Roderick winced. He might have been led to all or at least some -of these things. But to be driven, and by such rough horse-breaking -methods—. never! no, never. He managed to restrain himself, however, -and replied quietly: “My dear uncle, the idea of marrying for -some years yet, to tell you the truth, has never entered my head. -Of course,” he went on lightly, “there is a young lady over at -Galesburg, Stella Rain, where my Knox college days were spent, the -‘college widow,’ in a way a very lovely sort and in whom I have been -rather interested for some two years, but—” - -“That will do, young man,” interrupted Allen Miller, sharply and -severely. “Never mind your society flyers—these lady friends of -yours in Galesburg. Your Aunt Lois and myself have already selected your -future wife.” - -He laughed hoarsely, and the laugh sounded brutal even to his own ears. -Allen Miller realized uncomfortably that he had been premature and -scored against himself. - -“Oh, is that so?” ejaculated Roderick in delicate irony. A pink -flush had stolen into his cheeks. - -The old banker hesitated in making reply. He grew hot and red and -wondered if he had begun his match-making too abruptly—the very thing -about which his good wife Lois had cautioned him. In truth, despite -the harsh methods often imposed on him by his profession as a banker, a -kinder heart than Allen Miller’s never beat. But in this new rôle he -was out of his element and readily confused. Finally after clearing his -throat several times, he replied: “Yes, Roderick, in a way, your Aunt -Lois and I have picked out the girl we want you to marry. Her father’s -wealth is equal to mine and some day perhaps—well, you can’t -tell—I’ll not live always and, provided you don’t disobey me, you -may inherit under my will a control of the stock of this banking -house, and so be at the head of an important and growing financial -institution.” - -Roderick instead of being fifty-four and calculating, was only -twenty-four and indifferent to wealth, and the red blood of his generous -youth revolted at the mercenary methods suggested by his uncle regarding -this unknown girl’s financial prospects. And then, too, the inducement -thrown out that under conditions of obedience he might inherit the -fortune of his uncle, was, he interpreted, nothing short of an attempt -to bribe and deprive him of his liberty. He flushed with indignation and -anger. Yet with a strong effort he still controlled his feelings, and -presently asked: “Who is the fair lady?” - -“The daughter of an old friend of mine. They live only a short -distance down the river. Their home is at Quincy, Illinois. Mighty fine -old family, I can tell you. Am sure you’ll like her immensely.” - -“Am I to understand,” asked Roderick rather caustically, “that the -young lady acquiesces and enters graciously into your plans?” - -“Well, I can’t say that!” replied Allen Miller, rubbing his chin. -“But your Aunt Lois and I have talked over the possible alliance in -all its lights.” - -“With the young lady’s family, I presume?” - -“No, not even that. But we are perfectly certain that we have only to -speak the word to put the business through all right.” - -“Business!”—Roderick repeated the word with bitter emphasis. - -“Yes, sir, business,” retorted Allen Miller, with some warmth. “To -my mind matrimony is one of the most important deals in life—perhaps -the most important.” - -“If the money is right,” laughed the young man contemptuously. -“But don’t you think that before another word is said about such a -matter I should have the chance of seeing the young lady and the young -lady a chance of seeing me?” - -The humor of the situation had brought a pleasant smile to his face. The -banker looked relieved. - -“Wait now, my boy,” he replied musingly. “Do you remember when -you were a little chap, perhaps twelve or thirteen years old, going with -your Aunt Lois and myself to St. Louis on the Diamond Joe boat line?” - -“Yes, I remember it perfectly.” - -“Well, then,” continued Allen Miller, “you perhaps haven’t -forgotten a lady and gentleman with a little tot of a girl only five or -six years old, who joined us at Quincy. You engaged in a regular boyish -love affair at first sight with that little girl. Well, she is the -one—a mighty fine young lady now—just passed eighteen and her father -is rated away up in the financial world.” - -For the moment Roderick’s indignation over the cold-blooded, -cut-and-dried, matrimonial proposition was arrested, and he did not -even notice the renewed reference to finance. He had become pensive and -retrospective. - -“How very long ago,” he mused more to himself than to his Uncle -Allen—“How very long ago since that trip down the river. Yes, I -remember well the little blue-eyed, black-curly-headed chick of a girl. -It was my first steamboat ride and of course it was a holiday and a -fairyland affair to my boyish fancy.” - -He drew in a long breath and looked out through the window at the snow -which was now falling, as if many chapters of the world’s history had -been written in his own life since that far away yet well remembered -trip. He fell silent for a spell. - -Allen Miller chuckled to himself. At last his scheme was working. -All his life he had been a success with men and affairs, and his -self-confidence was great. He rubbed his hands together and smiled, -while he humored Roderick’s silence. He would tell his wife Lois of -his progress. Presently he said: “She is an only child, Roderick, -and I think her father could qualify for better than a quarter of a -million.” - -This time the reiterated money recommendation jarred unpleasantly on -Roderick’s nerves and revived his antagonism. He hastily arose from -his chair and walked back and forth across the room. Presently he halted -before his uncle and with forced deliberation—for his anger was keyed -to a high tension—said: “I am pleased, Uncle, to know the young -lady is not a party to this shameful piece of attempted barter and sale -business. When I marry, if ever, it shall be someone as regards whom -wealth will count as of least importance. True love loathes avarice and -greed. I require no further time to consider your proposals. I flatly -reject your offer of a position in the bank, and shall leave Keokuk -tomorrow. I prefer hewing out my own destiny and while doing so -retaining my freedom and my self-respect. This is my decision, and it is -an irrevocable one.” - -The ebullition of pent-up feelings had come so suddenly and unexpectedly -that Allen Miller was momentarily overwhelmed. He had arisen and was -noticeably agitated. His face was very white, and there was a look in -his eyes that Roderick Warfield had never seen before. - -“Young man,” he said, and his voice was husky and trembling with -suppressed rage—“you shall never have a dollar of my fortune unless -you marry as I direct I will give you until tomorrow to agree to -my plans. If you do not desire to accept my offer without change or -modification in any shape, then take the balance of your money in the -bank and go your way. I wash my hands of you and your affairs. Go and -play football with the world or let the world play football with you, -and see how it feels to be the ‘pigskin’ in life’s game.” - -With these words the old man swung a chair round to the fireplace, -dropped into it, and began vigorously and viciously pounding at a lump -of coal. There was an interval of silence. At last Roderick spoke; his -voice was firm and low. - -“There will not be the slightest use, Uncle, in reopening -this question tomorrow. My mind, as I have said, is already made -up—unalterably.” The last word was uttered with an emphasis that -rang finality. - -The banker flung down the poker, and rose to his feet. His look was -equally determined, equally final, equally unalterable. - -“All right,” he snapped. “Then we’ll get through the banking -business now.” - -He touched a push-button by the side of the mantel. During the brief -interval before a clerk responded to the summons, not another word was -spoken. - -“Bring me the exact figure of Mr. Warfield’s credit balance,” -he said to his subordinate, “and cash for the amount. He will sign a -check to close the account.” - -Five minutes later Roderick had the little wad of bills in his pocket, -and was ready to depart Uncle and nephew were again alone. - -“There is one other matter,” said the banker with cold formality. -“There is a paper in my possession which was entrusted to my keeping -by your father just before he died. I was to deliver it to you at my -discretion after you had attained your majority, but in any case on your -reaching the age of twenty-five. I will exercise my discretion, and hand -over the paper to you now.” - -He advanced to a safe that stood open at one side of the room, unlocked -a little drawer, and returned to the fireplace with a long linen -envelope in his hand. A big red splash of wax showed that it had been -carefully sealed. - -“This is yours,” said the banker shortly, handing it over to the -young man. - -The latter was greatly agitated. A message from his dead father! What -could it mean? But he mastered his emotions and quietly bestowed the -packet in his breast pocket—beside the papers connected with the -mining deal. - -“I’ll read this later,” he said. And then he extended his hand. -There was yearning affection in his eyes, in the tremor of his voice: -“Uncle, we surely will part as friends.” - -“You can regain my friendship only by doing my will. I have nothing -more to say. Good-by.” - -And without taking the proffered hand, Allen Miller turned away, leaning -an elbow on the mantelshelf. His attitude showed that the interview was -at an end. - -Without another word Roderick Warfield left the room. Outside the soft -snow was falling in feathery silence. At a street corner the young -man hesitated. He glanced up the road that led to his old home—Allen -Miller’s stately mansion on the hill. Then he took the other turning. - -“I guess I’ll sleep at the Club to-night,” he murmured to himself. -“I can bid Aunt Lois good-by in the morning.” - - - - -CHAPTER II—A MESSAGE FROM THE GRAVE - -ALLEN MILLER, the rich banker, was alone—alone in the president’s -room at his bank, and feeling alone in the fullest sense of the word now -that Roderick Warfield had gone, the youth he had reared and loved and -cherished as his own child, now turned out of doors by the old man’s -deliberate act. - -For full an hour he walked slowly back and forth the whole length of the -apartment But at last he halted once again before the open grate where -some slumbering chunks of coal were burning indifferently. He pushed -them together with the iron poker, and a bright blaze sprung up. - -Looking deep into the fire his thoughts went back to his boyhood days -and he saw John Warfield, his chum of many years. He thought of their -experience in the terrible massacre in the Sierra Madre Mountains in the -region of Bridger Peak, of a lost trail, of hunger and thirst and weary -tramps over mountain and down precipitous canyons, of abrupt gashes that -cut the rocky gorges, of great bubbling springs and torrents of mountain -streams, of a narrow valley between high mountains—a valley without a -discoverable outlet—of a beautiful waterway that traversed this -valley and lost itself in the sides of an abrupt mountain, and of the -exhausting hardships in getting back to civilization. - -Then Allen Miller, the flint-hearted financier, the stoic, the man of -taciturn habits, did a strange thing. Standing there before the blazing -fire, leaning against the mantel, he put his handkerchief to his eyes -and his frame was convulsed with a sob. Presently he turned away from -the open grate and muttered aloud: “Yes, John Warfield, I loved you -and I love your boy, Roderick. Some day he shall have all I’ve got. -But he is self-willed—a regular outlaw—and I must wake him up to -the demands of a bread-winner, put the bits into his mouth and make -him bridle-wise. Gad! He’s a dynamo, but I love him;” and he half -smiled, while his eyes were yet red and his voice husky. - -“Ah, John,” he mused as he looked again into the fire, “you might -have been alive today to help me break this young colt to the plough, if -you had only taken my advice and given up the search for that gold mine -in the mountains. Thank God for the compact of secrecy between us—the -secret shall die with me. The years, John, you spent in trying to -re-dis-cover the vault of wealth—and what a will-o’-the-wisp it -proved to be—and then the accident. But now I shall be firm—firm as -a rock—and Roderick, the reckless would-be plunger, shall at last feel -the iron hand of his old guardian beneath the silken glove of my foolish -kindness. He’s got to be subdued and broken, even if I have to let -him live on husks for a while. Firm, firm—that’s the only thing to -be.” - -As he muttered the last words, Allen Miller shut his square jaws -together with an ugly snap that plainly told the stern policy he had -resolved on and would henceforth determinedly pursue. He put on his -great fur-lined cloak, and silently went out into the evening shadows -and thick maze of descending snow-flakes. - -Meanwhile Roderick Warfield had reached his club, engaged a bedroom, and -got a cheerful fire alight for companionship as well as comfort. He had -telephoned to Whitley Adams to dine with him, but for two hours he would -be by himself and undisturbed. He wanted a little time to think. And -then there was the letter from his father. He had settled himself in an -easy chair before the fire, the sealed envelope was in his hand, and the -strange solemn feeling had descended upon him that he was going to hear -his dead father speak to him again. - -There was in the silence that enveloped him the pulsing sensation of a -mysterious presence. The ordeal now to be faced came as a climax to the -stormy interview he had just passed through. He had reached a parting -of the ways, and dimly realized that something was going to happen that -would guide him as to the path he should follow. The letter seemed a -message from another world. Unknown to himself the supreme moment that -had now arrived was a moment of transfiguration—the youth became a -man—old things passed away. - -With grave deliberation he broke the seal. Inside the folds of a long -and closely written letter was a second cover with somewhat bulky -contents. This he laid for the meantime on a little table by his side. -Then he set himself to a perusal of the letter. It ran as follows: - -“My dear Son:— - -“This is for you to read when you have come to man’s estate—when -you are no longer a thoughtless boy, but a thoughtful man. With this -letter you will find your mother’s picture and a ring of pure gold -which I placed upon her finger the day I married her—gold with -a special sentiment attached to it, for I took it from the earth -myself—also a few letters—love letters written by her to me and a -tress of her hair. I am sure you will honor her memory by noble deeds. I -loved her dearly. - -“I was younger at the time than you are now, Roderick, my son. Your -Uncle Allen Miller—about my own age—and myself planned a trip to -California. It was at the time of the great gold excitement in that far -off land. - -“The Overland Train of some two score of ox teams that we were with -traveled but slowly; frequently not more than eight or ten miles a day. -I remembered we had crossed the south fork of the Platte River and had -traveled some two days on westward into the mountains and were near a -place called Bridger Peak. It must have been about midnight when our -camp was startled with the most terrific and unearthly yells ever heard -by mortals. It was a band of murderous Indians, and in less time than -it takes to describe the scene of devastation, all of our stock was -stampeded; our wagons looted and then set on fire. Following this a -general massacre began. Your Uncle Allen and myself, both of us mere -boys in our ‘teens, alert and active, managed to make our escape -in the darkness. Being fleet of foot we ran along the mountain side, -following an opening but keeping close to a dense forest of pine trees. -In this way we saved our lives. I afterwards learned that every other -member of the party was killed. - -“We were each equipped with two revolvers and a bowie knife and -perhaps jointly had one hundred rounds of cartridges. A couple of pounds -of jerked beef and a half a loaf of bread constituted our provisions. -Fortunately, Allen Miller carried with him a flint and steel, so that -we were enabled to sustain ourselves with cooked food of game we killed -during the weary days that followed. - -“With this letter I enclose a map, roughly drawn, but I am sure it -will help you find the lost canyon where flows a beautiful stream of -water, and where your Uncle Allen and myself discovered an amazing -quantity of gold—placer gold. It is in a valley, and the sandbar of -gold is about a mile up stream from where the torrent of rapid water -loses itself at the lower end of the valley—seemingly flowing into -the abrupt side of a mountain. At the place where we found the gold, I -remember, there was a sandbar next to the mountain brook, then a gorge -or pocket like an old channel of a creek bed, and it was here in this -old sandbar of a channel that the nuggets of gold were found—so -plentiful indeed, that notwithstanding we loaded ourselves with them -to the limit of our strength, yet our ‘takings’ could scarcely be -missed from this phenomenal sandbar of riches. We brought all we -could possibly carry away with us in two bags which we made from extra -clothing. Unfortunately we lost our way and could not find an opening -from the valley, because the waters of the stream disappeared, as I have -described, and we were compelled, after many unsuccessful attempts to -find a water grade opening, to retrace our steps and climb out by the -same precipitous trail that we had followed in going down into this -strange valley. - -“We wandered in the mountains as far south as a place now known as -Hahn’s Peak, and then eastward, circling in every direction for many -miles in extent. After tramping in an unknown wilderness for forty-seven -days we finally came to the hut of a mountaineer, and were overjoyed to -learn it was on a branch of the Overland trail Not long after this we -fell in with a returning caravan of ox team freighters and after many -weeks of tedious travel arrived at St. Joseph, Mo., footsore and weary, -but still in possession of our gold. A little later we reached our home -near Keokuk, Iowa, and to our great joy learned that our treasure was -worth many thousands of dollars. Your Uncle Allen Miller’s half was -the beginning of his fortune. An oath of secrecy exists between your -Uncle Allen Miller and myself that neither shall divulge during our -lifetime that which I am now writing to you, but in thus communicating -my story to you, my own flesh and blood, I do not feel that I am -violating my promise, because the information will not come to you until -years after my death. - -“Since your mother’s death, I have made seven trips into the Rocky -Mountain region hunting most diligently for an odd-shaped valley where -abrupt mountains wall it in, seemingly on every side, and where we found -the fabulously rich sandbar of gold. - -“But I have not succeeded in locating the exact place, not even -finding the lost stream—or rather the spot where the waters -disappeared out of sight at the base of a high mountain range. On -my last trip, made less than one year ago, I met with a most serious -accident that has permanently crippled me and will probably hasten my -taking off. On the map I have made many notes while lying here ill and -confined to my room, and they will give you my ideas of the location -where the treasure may be found. To you, my beloved son, Roderick, I -entrust this map. Study it well and if, as I believe, you have inherited -my adventurous spirit, you will never rest until you find this lost -valley and its treasure box of phenomenal wealth. In Rawlins, Wyoming, -you will find an old frontiersman by the name of Jim Rankin. He has -two cronies, or partners, Tom Sun and Boney Earnest. These three men -rendered me great assistance. If you find the lost mine, reward them -liberally. - -“I have communicated to no one, not even your good Uncle Allen Miller, -that I have decided on leaving this letter, and the information which it -contains is for your eyes alone to peruse long after my mortal body has -crumbled to dust In imparting this information I do so feeling sure that -your Uncle Allen will never make any effort to relocate the treasure, so -that it is quite right and proper the secret should descend to you. - -“My pen drags a little—I am weary and quite exhausted with the -effort of writing. I now find myself wondering whether this legacy—a -legacy telling you of a lost gold mine that may be found somewhere in -the fastnesses of the mountains of Wyoming—will prove a blessing to -you or a disquieting evil. I shall die hoping that it will prove to your -good and that your efforts in seeking this lost mine will be rewarded. - -“With tenderest love and affection, - -“Your father, - -“John Warfield.” - -When Roderick reached the end of the letter, he remained for a long -time still holding it in his hands and gazing fixedly into the glowing -embers. He was seeing visions—visions of a Wyoming gold mine that -would bring him unbounded wealth. At last he broke from his reveries, -and examined the other package. It was unsealed. The first paper to come -forth proved to be the map to which his father had referred—it was -a pencil drawing with numerous marginal notes that would require close -examination. For the present he laid the document on the table. Then -reverently and tenderly he examined the little bunch of love letters -tied together by a ribbon, the tress of hair placed between two -protecting pieces of cardboard, and the plain hoop of gold wrapped -carefully in several folds of tissue paper. Lastly he gazed upon the -photograph of his mother—the mother he had never seen, the mother who -had given her life so that he might live. There were tears in his eyes -as he gently kissed the sweet girlish countenance. - -With thought of her and memories of the old boyhood days again he fell -into a musing mood. Time sped unnoticed, and it was only the chiming of -a church clock outside that aroused him to the fact that the dinner hour -had arrived and that Whitley Adams would be waiting for him downstairs. -He carefully placed all the papers in a writing desk that stood in a -corner of the room, locked it, and put the key in his pocket. Then he -descended to meet his friend. - -“Nothing doing, I can see,” exclaimed Whitley the moment he saw -Roderick’s grave face. - -“You’ve got it right,” he answered quietly. “The big ‘if’ -you feared this morning turned out to be an uncompromising ‘no.’ -Uncle Allen and I have said good-by.” - -“No wonder you are looking so glum.” - -“Not glum, old fellow. I never felt more tranquilly happy in my life. -But naturally I may seem a bit serious. I have to cut out old things in -my life, take up new lines.” - -“I suppose it’s back to New York for you.” - -“No. Everything goes by the board there. I have to cut my losses and -quit.” - -“What a cruel sacrifice!” - -“Or what a happy release,” smiled Roderick. “There is something -calling me elsewhere—a call I cannot resist—a call I believe that -beckons me to success.” - -“Where?” - -“Well, we won’t say anything about that at present I’ll write you -later on when the outlook becomes clearer. Meanwhile we’ll dine, and -I’m going to put up a little business proposition to you. I want you -to buy my half share in the Black Swan.” - -“Guess that can be fixed up all right,” replied Whitley, as they -moved toward the dining room. And, dull care laid aside, the two old -college chums gave themselves up to a pleasant evening—the last they -would spend together for many a long day, as both realized. - -By eleven o’clock next morning Roderick Warfield had adjusted his -financial affairs. He had received cash for his half interest in the -Black Swan, a river pleasure launch which he and Whitley Adams had owned -in common for several years. He had written one letter, to New York -surrendering his holding in the mining syndicate, and other letters to -his three or four creditors enclosing bank drafts for one-half of his -indebtedness and requesting six months’ time for the payment of -the balance. With less than a hundred dollars left he was cheerfully -prepared to face the world. - -Then had come the most painful episode of the whole visit—the parting -from Aunt Lois, the woman of gentle ways and kindly heart who had always -loved him like a mother, who loved him still, and who tearfully pleaded -with him to submit even at this eleventh hour to his uncle’s will and -come back to his room in the old home. But the adieus had been spoken, -resolutely though tenderly, and now Whitley Adams in his big motor car -had whisked Roderick and his belongings back to the railway depot. - -He had barely time to check his trunk to Burlington and swing onto the -moving train. “So long,” he shouted to his friend. “Good luck,” -responded Whitley as he waved farewell. And Roderick Warfield was being -borne out into the big new world of venture and endeavor. - -Would he succeed in cuffing the ears of chance and conquer, or -would heartless fate play football with him and make him indeed the -“pig-skin” as his uncle had prophesied in the coming events of his -destiny—a destiny that was carrying him away among strangers and to -unfamiliar scenes? As the train rushed along his mind was full of his -father’s letter and his blood tingled with excitement over the secret -that had come to him from the darkness of the very grave. The primal man -within him was crying out with mad impatience to be in the thick of the -fierce struggle for the golden spoil. - -A witchery was thrumming in his heart—the witchery of the West; and -instead of struggling against the impulse, he was actually encouraging -it to lead him blindly on toward an unsolved mystery of the hills. He -was lifted up into the heights, his soul filled with exalted thoughts -and hopes. - -Then came whisperings in a softer strain—gentle whisperings that -brought with them memories of happy college days and the name of Stella -Rain. It was perhaps nothing more nor less than the crude brutality with -which his uncle had pressed his meretricious matrimonial scheme that -caused Roderick now to think so longingly and so fondly of the charming -little “college widow” who had been the object of his youthful -aspirations. - -All at once he came to a resolution. Yes; he would spend at least one -day on the old campus grounds at Knox College. The call of the hills -was singing in his heart, the luring irresistible call. But before -responding to it he would once again press the hand and peep into the -eyes of Stella Rain. - - - - -CHAPTER III—FINANCIAL WOLVES - -ON the very day following Roderick Warfield’s departure from Keokuk -there appeared in one of the morning newspapers an item of intelligence -that greatly surprised and shocked the banker, Allen Miller. It -announced the death of the wife of his old friend General John Holden, -of Quincy, Illinois, and with the ghoulish instincts of latter-day -journalism laid bare a story of financial disaster that had, at least -indirectly, led to the lady’s lamented demise. It set forth how some -years before the General had invested practically the whole of his -fortune in a western smelter company, how the minority stockholders had -been frozen out by a gang of financial sharps in Pennsylvania, and how -Mrs. Holden’s already enfeebled health had been unable to withstand -the blow of swift and sudden family ruin. The General, however, was -bearing his sad bereavement and his monetary losses with the courage and -fortitude that had characterized his military career, and had announced -his intention of retiring to a lonely spot among the mountains of -Wyoming where his daughter, the beautiful and accomplished Gail Holden, -owned a half section of land which had been gifted to her in early -infancy by an unde, a prominent business man in San Francisco. Allen -Miller was sincerely grieved over the misfortunes that had so cruelly -smitten a life-long friend. But what momentarily stunned him was the -thought that Gail Holden was the very girl designated, in mind at least, -by himself and his wife as a desirable match for Roderick. And because -the latter had not at once fallen in with these matrimonial plans, there -had been the bitter quarrel, the stinging words of rebuke that could -never be recalled, and the departure of the young man, as he had told -his aunt, to places where they would never hear of him unless and until -he had made his own fortune in the world. - -As the newspaper dropped from his hands, the old banker uttered a great -groan—he had sacrificed the boy, whom in his heart he had cherished, -and still cherished, as a son, for a visionary scheme that had already -vanished into nothingness like a fragile iridescent soap-bubble. For -obviously Gail Holden, her only possessions an impoverished father and a -few acres of rocky soil, was no longer eligible as the bride of a future -bank president and leader in the financial world. The one crumb of -consolation for Allen Miller was that he had never mentioned her name to -Roderick—that when the sponge of time came to efface the quarrel the -whole incident could be consigned to oblivion without any humiliating -admission on his side. For financial foresight was the very essence of -his faith in himself, his hold over Roderick, and his reputation in the -business world. - -The afternoon mail brought detailed news of General Holden’s -speculative venture and downfall. Allen Miller’s correspondent was a -lawyer friend in Quincy, who wrote in strict confidence but with a free -and sharply pointed pen. It appeared that Holden’s initial investment -had been on a sound basis. He had held bonds that were underlying -securities on a big smelting plant in Wyoming, in the very district -where his daughter’s patch of range lands was situated. It was during -a visit to the little ranch that the general’s attention had been -drawn to the great possibilities of a local smelter, and he had been the -main one to finance the proposition and render the erection of the -plant possible. At this stage a group of eastern capitalists had -been attracted to the region, and there had come to be mooted a big -consolidation of several companies, an electric lighting plant, an -aerial tramway, a valuable producing copper mine and several other -different concerns that were closely associated with the smelting -enterprise. - -In the days that followed a Pennsylvanian financier with a lightning rod -education, by the name of W. B. Grady had visited Holden at his Quincy -home, partaken of his hospitality, and persuaded him to exchange his -underlying bonds for stock in a re-organized and consolidated company. - -By reputation this man Grady was already well known to Allen Miller as -one belonging to the new school of unscrupulous stock manipulators that -has grown up, developed, flourished and waxed fat under the blighting -influence and domination of the Well Known Oil crowd. This new school -of financiers is composed of financial degenerates, where the words -“honor,” “fair dealing” or the “square deal” have all been -effectually expunged—marked off from their business vocabulary and by -them regarded as obsolete terms. Grady was still a comparatively young -man, of attractive manners and commanding presence, with the rapacity, -however, of a wolf and the cunning of a fox. He stood fully six feet, -and his hair, once black as a raven’s, was now streaked with premature -gray which was in no way traceable to early piety. But to have mentioned -his name even in a remote comparison to such a respectable bird as the -raven rendered an apology due to the raven. It was more consistent -with the eternal truth and fitness of things to substitute the term -“vulture”—to designate him “a financial vulture,” that -detestable bird of prey whose chief occupation is feasting on carrion -and all things where the life has been squeezed out by the financial -octopus, known as “the system.” - -It developed, according to Banker Miller’s correspondent, that no -sooner had General Holden given up his underlying bonds of the smelter -company and accepted stock, than foreclosure proceedings were instituted -in the U. S. District Court, and the whole business closed out and sold -and grabbed by Grady and a small coterie of financial pirates no better -than himself. And all this was done many hundreds of miles away from the -home of the unsuspecting old general, who until it was too late remained -wholly ignorant and unadvised of the true character of the suave and -pleasant appearing Mr. Grady whose promises were innumerable, yet whose -every promise was based upon a despicable prevarication. - -And thus it was when the affairs of General Holden were fairly threshed -out, that Allen Miller discovered his old friend had been the prey of -a financial vampire, one skilled in sharp practice and whose artful -cunning technically protected him from being arrested and convicted of -looting the victim of his fortune. Holden had fallen into the hands of -a highwayman as vicious as any stage robber that ever infested the -highways of the frontier. The evidence of the fellow’s rascality was -most apparent; indeed, he was in a way caught redhanded with the goods -as surely as ever a sheep-killing dog was found with wool on its teeth. - -To the credit of Allen Miller, he never hesitated or wavered in his -generosity to anyone he counted as a true and worthy friend. That -very evening Mrs. Miller departed for Quincy, to offer in person more -discreetly than a letter could offer any financial assistance that might -be required to meet present emergencies, and at the same time convey -sympathy to the husband and daughter in their sad bereavement. - -“Lois, my dear,” the banker had said to his wife, “remain a few -days with them if necessary. Make them comfortable, no matter what the -expense. If they had means they wouldn’t need us, but now—well, no -difference about the why and wherefore—you just go and comfort and -help them materially and substantially.” - -It was in such a deed as this that the true nobility of Allen Miller’s -character shone forth like a star of the brightest magnitude—a star -guaranteeing forgiveness of all his blunders and stupid attempts to curb -the impulsive and proud spirit of Roderick War-field Yet sympathy for -Gail and her father in no way condoned their poverty to his judgment -as a man of finance or reinstated the girl as an eligible match for the -young man. He would have been glad of tidings of Roderick—to have him -home again and the offensive matrimonial condition he had attached to -his offer of an appointment in the bank finally eliminated. - -But there was no news, and meanwhile his wife had returned from her -mission, to report that the Holdens, while sincerely grateful, had -declined all offers of assistance. As Mrs. Miller described, it was the -girl herself who had declared, with the light of quiet self-reliance in -her eyes, that by working the ranch in Wyoming as she proposed to work -it there would be ample provision for her father’s little luxuries and -her own simple needs. - -So Allen Miller put Gail Holden out of mind. But he had many secret -heartaches over his rupture with Roderick, and every little stack of -mail matter laid upon his desk was eagerly turned over in the hope that -at last the wanderer’s whereabouts would be disclosed. - - - - -CHAPTER IV.—THE COLLEGE WIDOW - -STELLA RAIN belonged to one of the first families of Galesburg. Their -beautiful home, an old style Southern mansion, painted white with green -shutters, was just across from the college campus ground. It was the -usual fate of seniors about to pass out of Knox College to be in love, -avowedly or secretly, with this fair “college widow.” She was petite -of form and face, and had a beautiful smile that radiated cheerfulness -to the scores of college boys. There was a merry-come-on twinkle in her -eyes that set the hearts of the young farmer lad students and the city -chaps as well, in tumultuous riot. Beneath it all she was kind of heart, -and it was this innate consideration for others that caused her to -introduce all the new boys and the old ones too, as they came to college -year after year, to Galesburg’s fairest girls. She was ready to fit in -anywhere—a true “college widow” in the broadest sense of the term. -Her parents were wealthy and she had no greater ambition than to be -a queen among the college boys. Those who knew her best said that she -would live and die a spinster because of her inability to select someone -from among the hundreds of her admirers. Others said she had had a -serious affair of the heart when quite young. But that was several years -before Roderick Warfield had come upon the scene and been in due course -smitten by her charms. How badly smitten he only now fully realized -when, after nearly a year of absence, he found himself once again -tête-à-tête with her in the old familiar drawing-room of her home. - -There had been an hour of pleasant desultory conversation, the exchange -of reminiscences and of little sympathetic confidences, a subtly growing -tension in the situation which she had somewhat abruptly broken by going -to the piano and dashing off a brilliant Hungarian rhapsody. - -“And so you are determined to go West?” she inquired as she rose to -select from the cabinet another sheet of music. - -“Yes,” replied Roderick, “I’m going far West. I am going after a -fortune.” - -“How courageous you are,” she replied, glancing at him over her -shoulder with merry, twinkling eyes, as if she were proud of his -ambition. - -“Stella,” said Roderick, as she returned to the piano, where he was -now standing. - -“Yes?” said she, looking up encouragingly. - -“Why; you see, Stella—you don’t mind me telling you—well, -Stella, if I find the lost gold mine—” - -“If you find what?” she exclaimed. - -“Oh, I mean,” said Roderick in confusion, “I mean if I find -a fortune. Don’t you know, if I get rich out in that western -country—” - -“And I hope and believe you will,” broke in Stella, vivaciously. - -“Yes—I say, if I do succeed, may I come back for you—yes, marry -you, and will you go out there with me to live?” - -“Oh, Roderick, are you jesting now? You are just one of these -mischievous college boys trying to touch the heart of the little college -widow.” She laughed gaily at him, as if full of disbelief. - -“No,” protested Roderick, “I am sincere.” - -Stella Rain looked at him a moment in admiration. He was tall and -strong—a veritable athlete. His face was oval and yet there was a -square-jawed effect in its moulding. His eyes were dark and luminous -and frank, and wore a look of matureness, of determined purpose, she had -never seen there before. Finally she asked: “Do you know, Roderick, -how old I am?” - -As Roderick looked at her he saw there was plaintive regret in her dark -sincere eyes. There was no merry-come-on in them now; at last she was -serious. - -“Why, no,” said Roderick, “I don’t know how old you are and -I don’t care. I only know that you appeal to me more than any other -woman I have ever met, and all the boys like, you, and I love you, and I -want you for my wife.” - -“Sit down here by my side,” said Stella. “Let me talk to you in -great frankness.” - -Roderick seated himself by her side and reaching over took one of her -hands in his. He fondled it with appreciation—it was small, delicate -and tapering. - -“Roderick,” she said, “my heart was given to a college boy when -I was only eighteen years old. He went away to his home in an eastern -state, and then he forgot me and married the girl he had gone to school -with as a little boy—during the red apple period of their lives. It -pleased his family better and perhaps it was better; and it will not -please your family, Roderick, if you marry me.” - -“My family be hanged,” said Roderick with emphasis. “I have just -had a quarrel with my uncle, Allen Miller, and I am alone in the world. -I have no family. If you become my wife, why, we’ll—. we’ll be a -family to ourselves.” - -Stella smiled sadly and said: “You enthusiastic boy. How old are you, -Roderick?” - -“I am twenty-four and getting older every day.” They both laughed -and Stella sighed and said: “Oh, dear, how the years are running -against us—I mean running against me. No, no,” she said, half to -herself, “it never can be—it is impossible.” - -“What,” said Roderick, rising to his feet, and at the same moment -she also stood before him—“What’s impossible? Is it impossible for -you to love me?” - -“No, not that,” said Stella, and he noticed tears in her eyes. -“No, Roderick,” and she stood before him holding both his hands in -hers—“Listen,” she said, “listen!” - -“I am all attention,” said Roderick. - -“I will tell you how it will all end—we will never marry.” - -“Well, I say we shall marry,” said Roderick. “If you will have -me—if you love me—for I love you better than all else on -earth.” He started to take her in his arms and she raised her hand -remonstratingly, and said: “Wait! Here is what I mean,” and -she looked up at him helplessly. “I mean,”—she was speaking -slowly—“I mean that you believe today, this hour, this minute that -you want me for your wife.” - -“I certainly do,” insisted Roderick, emphatically. - -“Yes, but wait—wait until I finish. I will promise to be your wife, -Roderick—yes, I will promise—if you come for me I will marry you. -But, oh, Roderick,”—and there were tears this time in her voice as -well as in her eyes—“You will never come back—you will meet others -not so old as I am, for I am very, very old, and tonight I feel that -I would give worlds and worlds if they were mine to give, were I young -once again. Of course, in your youthful generosity you don’t know -what the disparagement of age means between husband and wife, when the -husband is younger. A man may be a score of years older than a woman and -all will be well—if they grow old together. It is God’s way. But -if a woman is eight or ten years older than her husband, it is all -different. No, Roderick, don’t take me in your arms, don’t even -kiss me until I bid you good-by when you start for that gold’ mine of -yours”—and as she said this she tried to laugh in her old way. - -“You seem to think,” said Roderick in a half-vexed, determined tone, -“that I don’t know my own mind—that I do not know my own heart. -Why, do you know, Stella, I have never loved any other girl nor ever had -even a love affair?” - -She looked at him quickly and said: “Roderick, that’s just the -trouble—you do not know—you cannot make a comparison, nor you -won’t know until the other girl comes along. And then, then,” she -said wearily, “I shall be weighed in the balance and found wanting, -because—oh, Roderick, I am so old, and I am so sorry—” and she -turned away and hid her face in her hands. “I believe in you and I -could love you with all my strength and soul. I am willing—listen -Roderick,” she put up her hands protectingly, “don’t be -impatient—I am willing to believe that you will be constant—that you -will come back—I am willing to promise to be your wife.” - -“You make me the happiest man in the world,” exclaimed Roderick, -crushing her to him with a sense of possession. - -“But there is one promise I am going to ask you to make,” she said. - -“Yes, yes,” said he, “I will promise anything.” - -“Well, it is this: If the other girl should come along, don’t fail -to follow the inclination of your heart, for I could not be your wife -and believe that the image of another woman was kept sacredly hidden -away in the deep recesses of your soul. Do you understand?” There was -something in her words—something in the way she spoke them—something -in the thought, that struck Roderick as love itself, and it pleased -him, because love is unselfish. Then he remembered that as yet he was -penniless—it stung him. However, the world was before him and he -must carve out a future and a fortune. It might take years, and in the -meantime what of Stella Rain, who was even now deploring her many years? -She would be getting older, and her chances, perhaps, for finding a home -and settling down with a husband would be less and less. - -But he knew there was no such thought of selfishness on her part—her -very unselfishness appealed to him strongly and added a touch of -chivalry to his determination. - -Stella Rain sank into a cushioned chair and rested her chin upon one -hand while, reaching to the piano keys with the other, she thrummed -them softly. Roderick walked back and forth slowly before her in deep -meditation. At last he paused and said: “I love you, I will prove I -am worthy. There is no time to lose. The hour grows late. I have but an -hour to reach my hotel, get my luggage and go to the depot I am going -West tonight I will come for you within one year, provided I make -my fortune; and I firmly believe in my destiny. If not—if I do not -come—I will release you from your betrothal, if it is your wish that I -do so.” - -Stella Rain laughed more naturally, and the old “come-on” twinkling -was in her eyes again as she said: “Roderick, I don’t want to be -released, because I love you very, very much. It is not that—it’s -because—well, no difference—if you come, Roderick,” and she raised -her hand to him from the piano—“if you come, and still want me to be -your wife, I will go with you and live in the mountains or the remotest -corner of the earth.” - -He took her hand in both his own and kissed it tenderly. “Very well, -Stella,—you make it plain to me. But you shall see—you shall see,” -and he looked squarely into her beautiful eyes. - -“Yes,” she said, rising to her feet, “we shall see, Roderick, we -shall see. And do you know,” the twinkling was now gone from her eyes -once more and she became serious again—“do you know, Roderick, it -is the dearest hope of my life that you will come? But I shall love -you just as much as I do now, Roderick, if for any cause—for whatever -reason—you do not come. Do you understand?” - -“But,” interposed Roderick, “we are betrothed, are we not?” - -She looked at him and said, smiling half sadly: “Surely, Roderick, we -are betrothed.” - -He put his big strong hands up to her cheeks, lifted her face to his and -kissed her reverently. Then with a hasty good-by he turned and was gone. - -As Roderick hurried across the old campus he felt the elation of a -gladiator. Of course, he would win in life’s battle, and would return -for Stella Rain, the dearest girl in all the world. The stars -were twinkling bright, the moon in the heavens was in the last -quarter—bright moon and stars, fit companions for him in his -all-conquering spirit of optimism. - - - - -CHAPTER V.—WESTWARD HO! - -AS the train rumbled along carrying Roderick back to Burlington, he was -lost in reverie and exultation. He was making plans for a mighty future, -into which now a romance of love was interwoven as well as the romance -of a mysterious gold mine awaiting rediscovery in some hidden valley -among rugged mountains. Yes; he would lose no further time in starting -out for Wyoming. The winning of the one treasure meant the winning -of the other—the making of both his own. As he dreamed of wealth -unbounded, there was always singing in his heart the name of Stella -Rain. - -Next day he was aboard a westbound train, booked for Rawlins, Wyoming, -where, as his father’s letter had directed, he was likely to find -the old frontiersman, Jim Rankin; perhaps also the other “cronies” -referred to by name, Tom Sun and Boney Earnest At Omaha a young -westerner boarded the train, and took a seat in the Pullman car opposite -to Roderick. In easy western style the two fell into conversation, and -Roderick soon learned that the newcomer’s name was Grant Jones, that -he was a newspaper man by calling and resided in Dillon, Wyoming, right -in the midst of the rich copper mines. - -“We are just over the mountain,” explained Jones, “from the town -of Encampment, where the big smelter is located.” - -As the train sped along and they became better acquainted, Grant Jones -pointed out to Roderick a dignified gentleman with glasses and a gray -mustache occupying a seat well to the front of the car, and told -him that this particular individual was no other than the “Boss -of Montana”—Senator “Fence Everything” Greed. Jones laughed -heartily at the name. - -“Of course, he is the U. S. Senator from Montana,” continued Jones, -soberly, “and his name is F. E. Greed. His enemies out in Montana -will be highly pleased at the new name I have given him—’Fence -Everything,’ because he has fenced in over 150,000 acres of Government -land, it is claimed, and run the actual home-settlers out of his fenced -enclosures while his immense herds of cattle trampled under foot and ate -up the poor evicted people’s crops. Oh, he’s some ‘boss,’ all -right, all right.” - -“Why,” exclaimed Roderick, “that’s lawlessness.” - -Grant Jones turned and looked at Roderick and said: “The rich are -never lawless, especially United States Senators—not out in Montana. -Why, bless your heart, they say the superintendent of his ranch is on -the payroll down at Washington at $1800 a year. - -“Likewise the superintendent of the electric lighting plant which -Senator Greed owns, as well as the superintendent of his big general -store, are said to be on the government payroll. - -“It has also been charged that his son was on the public payroll while -at college. Oh, no, it is not lawless; it is just a dignified form of -graft. Of course,” Jones went on with arched eyebrows, “I remember -one case where a homesteader shot one of the Senator’s fatted -cattle—fine stock, blooded, you know. It was perhaps worth $100. Of -course the man was arrested, had a ‘fair trial’ and is now doing -time in the penitentiary. In the meantime, his wife and little children -have been sent back East to her people. You see,” said Jones, smiling, -“this small rancher, both poor in purse and without influence, was -foolish enough to lose his temper because five or six hundred head of -Senator Greed’s cattle were driven by his cowboys over the rancher’s -land and the cattle incidentally, as they went along, ate up his crops. -Little thing to get angry about, wasn’t it?” and Jones laughed -sarcastically. - -“Well, don’t the state conventions pass resolutions denouncing their -U. S. Senator for such cold-blooded tyrannizing methods?” - -“If the state of Montana,” replied Grant Jones, “should ever hold -a state convention of its representative people—the bone and sinew of -its sovereign citizens, why, they would not only retire Senator Greed to -private life, but they would consign him to the warmer regions.” - -“You surprise me,” replied Roderick. “I supposed that every state -held conventions—delegates you know, from each county.” - -“They think they do,” said Jones, winking one eye, “but they are -only ratification meetings. The ‘Boss,’”he continued, nodding -his head towards Senator Greed, “has his faithful lieutenants in each -precinct of every county. His henchmen select the alleged delegates and -when they all get together in a so-called state convention they are by -pre-arrangement program men. The slate is fixed up by the ‘Boss’ -and is duly ratified without a hitch. Therefore instead of being -a convention representing the people it is a great big farce—a -ratification picnic where ‘plums’ are dealt out and the ears of any -who become fractious duly cuffed.” - -At Grand Island in the afternoon, during a stop while engines were -changed, Roderick left the train and stretched his legs by walking up -and down the depot platform. Here he saw Grant Jones in a new rôle. -Notwithstanding Jones was in rough western garb—khaki Norfolk coat, -trousers to match, and leather leggings—yet he was the center of -attraction for a bevy of young ladies. Two of these in particular were -remarkable for their beauty; both had the same burnished golden hair -and large brown eyes; they were almost identical in height and figure, -petite and graceful, dressed alike, so that anyone at a first glance -would have recognized them to be not only sisters but doubtless twins. - -When the train was about ready to start, these two girls bade adieu to -their numerous friends and permitted Grant Jones with all the gallantry -of a Beau Brummel to assist them onto the car. - -Later Grant Jones took great pains to assure Roderick that it was -a pleasure to introduce him to the Misses Barbara and Dorothy -Shields—“Two of our’ mountain wild flowers,” Grant said, -laughing pleasantly, “who reside with their people way over south in -the Wyoming hills, not far from Encampment, on one of the biggest cattle -ranges in the state.” - -Roderick, already captivated by the whole-souled, frank manner of Grant -Jones, now found himself much interested in the beautiful twin sisters -as well. Hour followed hour in bright and sprightly conversation, and -soon the tenderfoot who had been inclined to condole with himself as a -lonely stranger among strangers was feeling quite at home in the great -western world of hospitable welcome and good comradeship. - -At an early hour next morning Grant Jones, the Shields girls and a dozen -other people left the train at the little town of Walcott. They extended -hearty invitations for Roderick to come over to southern Wyoming to see -the country, its great mines and the big smelter. “If you pay us a -visit,” said Grant Jones, laughing, “I’ll promise you a fine -big personal in the Dillon Doublejack, of which mighty organ of public -opinion I have the honor to be editor.” - -Roderick, with a bow of due reverence for his editorial majesty and a -bright smile for the sisters, promised that he likely would make the -trip before very long. Then he swung himself onto the already moving -train and continued his westward journey to Rawlins. - - - - -CHAPTER VI.—RODERICK MEETS JIM RANKIN - -IT was seven o’clock the same morning when Roderick left the train at -Rawlins. - -The raw, cold wind was blowing a terrific gale, the streets were -deserted save for a few half drunken stragglers who had been making a -night of it, going the rounds of saloons and gambling dens. - -A bright-faced lad took charge of the mail bags, threw them into a push -cart and started rumbling away up the street. Warfield followed and -coming up with him inquired for a hotel. - -“Right over there is the Ferris House,” said the young fellow, -nodding his head in the direction indicated. - -As Roderick approached the hotel he met a grizzled keen-eyed -frontiersman who saluted him with a friendly “Hello, partner, you be a -stranger in these yere parts, I’m assoomin’.” - -“Yes, I just arrived on this morning’s train.” - -“Waal, my handle is Jim Rankin. Been prospectin’ the range -hereabouts nigh thirty years; uster be sheriff of this yere county -when people wuz hostile a plenty—have the best livery stable today -in Wyomin’, and always glad to see strangers loiterin’ ‘round and -help ‘em to git their bearin’s if I can be of service—you bet I -am.” - -Thus early had Roderick encountered his father’s old friend. He was -delighted, but for the present kept his own counsel. A more fitting time -and place must be found to tell the reason of his coming. - -“Thank you,” he contented himself with saying as he accepted the -frontiersman’s hand of welcome; “glad to meet you, Mr. Rankin.” - -“Here, boy,” shouted the latter to an attache of the hotel, -“take care of this yere baggage; it belongs to this yere gentleman, a -dangnation good friend uv mine. He’ll be back soon fur breakfast. Come -on, stranger, let’s go over to Wren’s. I’m as dry as a fish.” - -Roderick smiled and turning about, accompanied his new discovery down -the street to Wren’s. As they walked along Rankin said: “Here’s my -barn and here’s the alley. We’ll turn in here and get into Wren’s -by the back door. I never pester the front door. Lots uv fellers git -a heap careless with their artillery on front steps that are docile -‘nuff inside.” As they passed through a back gate, Jim Rankin, the -typical old-time westerner, pushed his hat well back on his head, fished -out of his pocket a pouch of “fine cut” tobacco, and stowing away a -large wad in his mouth began masticating rapidly, like an automobile -on the low gear. Between vigorous “chaws” he observed that the -sun would be up in a “minute” and then the wind would go down. -“Strange but true as gospel,” he chuckled—perhaps at his superior -knowledge of the West—“when the sun comes up the wind goes down.” - -He expectorated a huge pit-tew of tobacco juice at an old ash barrel, -wiped his iron gray mustache with the back of his hand, pushed open the -back door of the saloon and invited Roderick to enter. - -A fire was burning briskly in a round sheet iron stove, and a half dozen -wooden-backed chairs were distributed about a round-topped table covered -with a green cloth. - -Rankin touched a press button, and when a white-aproned waiter responded -and stood with a silent look of inquiry on his face the frontiersman -cleared his throat and said: “A dry Martini fur me; what pizen do you -nominate, partner?” - -“Same,” was Roderick’s rather abbreviated reply as he took in the -surroundings with a furtive glance. - -As soon as the waiter retired to fill the orders, Roderick’s new found -friend pulled a coal scuttle close to his chair to serve as a receptacle -for his tobacco expectorations, and began: “You see, speakin’ wide -open like, I know all these yere fellers—know ‘em like a book. Out -at the bar in front is a lot uv booze-fightin’ sheep herders makin’ -things gay and genial, mixin’ up with a lot uv discharged railroad -men. Been makin’ some big shipments uv sheep east, lately, and when -they get tumultuous like with a whole night’s jag of red liquor under -their belt, they forgit about the true artickle uv manhood and I cut -‘em out. Hope they’ll get away afore the cattle men come in from -over north, otherwise there’ll be plenty uv ugly shootin’. Last year -we made seven new graves back there,” and he jerked his thumb over his -shoulder, “seven graves as a result uv a lot uv sheep herders and cow -punchers tryin’ to do the perlite thing here at Wren’s parlors the -same night They got to shootin’ in a onrestrained fashion and a heap -careless. You bet if I wuz sheriff uv this yere county agin I’d see -to it that law and order had the long end uv the stick—though I -must allow they did git hostile and hang Big Nose George when I wuz in -office,” he added after a pause. Then he chuckled quietly to himself, -for the moment lost in retrospection. - -Presently the waiter brought in the drinks and when he retired Rankin -got up very cautiously, tried the door to see if it was tightly shut. -Coming back to the table and seating himself he lifted his glass, -but before drinking said: “Say, pard, I don’t want to be too -presumin’, but what’s your handle?” - -Roderick felt that the proper moment had arrived, and went straight to -his story. - -“My name is Roderick Warfield. I am the son of John Warfield with whom -I believe you had some acquaintance a number of years ago. My father is -dead, as you doubtless may have heard—died some fourteen years since. -He left a letter for me which only recently came into my possession, -and in the letter he spoke of three men—Jim Rankin, Tom Sun and Boney -Earnest.” - -As Roderick was speaking, the frontiersman reverently returned his -cocktail to the table. - -“Geewhillikins!” he exclaimed, “you the son uv John Warfield! -Well, I’ll be jiggered. This just nachurly gits on my wind. Shake, -young man.” And Jim Rankin gave Roderick’s hand the clinch of a -vise; “I’m a mighty sight more than delighted to see you, and you -can count on my advice and help, every day in the week and Sundays -thrown in. As you’re a stranger in these parts, I’m assoomin’ -you’ll need it a plenty, you bet. Gee, but I’m as glad to see you -as I’d be to see a brother. Let’s drink to the memory uv your good -father.” - -He again lifted his cocktail and Roderick joined him by picking up a -side glass of water. - -“What?” asked Rankin, “not drinkin’ yer cocktail? What’s -squirmin’ in yer vitals?” - -“I drink nothing stronger than water,” replied Roderick, looking -his father’s old friend squarely in the eyes. Thus early in their -association he was glad to settle this issue once and for all time. - -“Shake again,” said Rankin, after tossing off his drink at a single -swallow and setting down his empty glass, “you sure ‘nuff are the -son uv John Warfield. Wuz with him off and on fur many a year and he -never drank spirits under no circumstances. You bet I wuz just nachurly -so dangnation flabbergasted at meetin’ yer I got plumb locoed and sure -did fergit. Boney and Tom and me often speak uv him to this day, and -they’ll be dangnation glad to see you.” - -“So you’re all three still in the ring?” queried Roderick with a -smile. - -“Bet yer life,” replied Rankin sturdily. “Why, Tom Sun and Boney -Earnest and me have been chums fur nigh on to thirty years. They’re -the best scouts that ever hunted in the hills. They’re the chaps who -put up my name at the convenshun, got me nominated and then elected me -sheriff of this yere county over twenty-five years ago. Gosh but -I’m certainly glad to see yer and that’s my attitood.” He smiled -broadly. - -“Now, Warfield,” he continued, “what yer out here fur? But first, -hold on a minute afore yer prognosticate yer answer. Just shove that -‘tother cocktail over this way—dangnation afeerd you’ll spill it; -no use letting it go to waste.” - -“I’ve come,” replied Roderick, smiling and pushing the cocktail -across to Jim Rankin, “to grow up with the country. A young fellow -when he gets through college days has got to get out and do something, -and some way I’ve drifted out to Wyoming to try and make a start. I -have lots of good health, but precious little money.” - -Jim Rankin drank the remaining cocktail, pulled his chair a little -closer to Roderick’s and spoke in a stage whisper: “You know, I’m -assoomin’, what yer father was huntin’ fur when he got hurt?” - -Roderick flushed slightly and remained silent for a moment. Was it -possible that his father’s old friend, Jim Rankin, knew of the lost -mine? Finally he replied: “Well, yes, I know in a general way.” - -“Don’t speak too dangnation loud,” enjoined Rankin. “Come on and -we’ll hike out uv this and go into one uv the back stalls uv my livery -stable. This’s no place to talk about sich things—even walls have -ears.” - -As they went out again by the back door the morning sun was looking at -them from the rim of the eastern hills. Side by side and in silence they -walked along the alley to the street, then turned and went into a big -barn-like building bearing a sign-board inscribed: “Rankin’s Livery, -Feed and Sale Stable.” - -Although there was not a soul in sight, Rankin led his new acquaintance -far back to the rear of the building. As they passed, a dozen or more -horses whinnied, impatient for their morning feed. - -Cautiously and without a word being spoken they went into an empty stall -in a far corner, and there in a deep whisper, Rankin said: “I know -the hull shootin’ match about that ‘ere lost gold mine, but Tom and -Boney don’t—they’ve been peevish, good and plenty, two or three -different times thinkin’ I know’d suthin’ they didn’t. Not a -blamed thing does anybody know but me, you bet I went with your father -on three different trips, but we didn’t quite locate the place. I -believe it’s on Jack Creek or Cow Creek—maybe furder over—don’t -know which, somewhere this side or t’other side of Encampment River. -You kin bet big money I kin help a heap—a mighty lot But say nothin’ -to nobody—specially to these soopercilious high-steppin’ chaps -‘round here—not a dangnation word—keep it mum. This is a -razzle-dazzle just ‘tween you an’ me, young man.” - -A silence followed, and the two stood there looking at each other. -Presently Roderick said: “I believe I’ll go over to the hotel and -get some breakfast; this western air gives one a ravenous appetite.” - -Then they both laughed a little as if anxious to relieve an embarrassing -situation, and went out to the street together. Jim knew in his heart -he had been outclassed; he had shown his whole hand, the other not one -single card. - -“All right,” Rankin finally said, as if an invitation had been -extended to him. “All right, I’ll jist loiter along with yer over -to’rd the hotel.” - -“At another time,” observed Roderick, “we will talk further about -my father’s errand into this western country.” - -“That’s the dope that sure ‘nuff suits me, Mr. War-field,” -replied Rankin. “Whatever you say goes. Yer can unbosom yerself to me -any time to the limit. I’ve got a dozen good mining deals to talk to -you about; they’re dandies—a fortune in every one uv ‘em—’a -bird in every shell,’ I might say,” and Rankin laughed heartily at -his happy comparison. “Remember one thing, Warfield,”—he stopped -and took hold of the lapel of Roderick’s coat, and again spoke in a -whisper—“this yere town is full uv ‘hot air’ merchants. Don’t -have nuthin’ to do with ‘em—stand pat with me and I’ll see by -the great horn spoon the worst you get will be the best uv everythin’ -we tackle. Well, so long until after breakfast; I’ll see you later.” -And with this Rankin turned and walked briskly back to his stables, -whistling a melody from the “Irish Washerwoman” as he went along. - -Arriving at his stables he lighted a fire in a drumshaped stove, threw -his cud of tobacco away and said: “Hell, I wish this young Warfield -had money. I’ve got a copper prospect within three mile uv this here -town that’ll knock the spots out uv the Ferris-Haggerty mine all -holler. Geewhillikins, it’ll jist nachur-ally make all the best mines -in Wyomin’ look like small-sized Shetland ponies at a Perch’ron -draft horse show. You bet that’s what I’ve got.” - -After feeding his horses he came back to the livery barn office, now -quite warm and comfortable, pulled up an old broken backed chair, -sat down and lit his pipe. After a few puffs he muttered half aloud: -“Expect I’m the only man in Wyomin’ who remembers all the early -hist’ry and traditions about that cussed lost mine. I’ve hunted the -hills high and low, north, south, east and west, and dang my buttons if -I can imagine where them blamed nuggets came from. And my failure used -to make me at times a plenty hostile and peevish. John Warfield brought -three of ‘em out with him on his last trip. He gave Tom one, Boney one -and me one.” - -Thrusting his hand into his pocket Rankin produced a native nugget of -gold, worn smooth and shiny, and looked at it long in silent meditation. -It was a fine specimen of almost pure gold, and was worth perhaps five -and twenty dollars. - -Presently the old frontiersman brought his fist down with a startling -thump on his knee and said aloud: “I’ll be blankety-blanked if I -don’t believe in that dangnation fairy story yet. You bet I do, and -I’ll help John Warfield’s boy find it, by the great horn spoon I -will, if it takes every horse in the stable.” - -Jim Rankin relit his pipe, smoked vigorously and thought. The power of -silence was strong upon him. The restless spirit of the fortune hunter -was again surging in his blood and awaking slumbering half-forgotten -hopes—yes, tugging at his heart-strings and calling to him to forsake -all else and flee to the hills. - -Rankin was a character, a representative of the advance band of sturdy -trail-blazers of the West—tender-hearted as a child, generous to a -fault, ready to divide his last crust with a friend, yet quick to resent -an injury, and stubborn as a bullock when roused to self-defense. There -was nothing cunning about him, nothing of greed and avarice, no spirit -of envy for the possession of things for the things’ sake. But for -him there was real joy in the mad pursuit of things unattainable—a joy -that enthralled and enthused him with the fervor of eternal youth. His -was the simple life of the hills, loving his few chums and turning his -back on all whom he disliked or mistrusted. - -Other men and greater men there may be, but it was men of Jim Rankin’s -type that could build, and did build, monuments among the wild western -waste of heat-blistered plains and gaunt rock-ribbed mountains, men who -braved the wilderness and there laid the first foundation stones of -a splendid civilization—splendid, yet even now only in its first -beginnings, a civilization that means happy homes and smiling fields -where before all was barrenness and desolation. - - - - -CHAPTER VII—GETTING ACQUAINTED - -RODERICK spent a few days in Rawlins, improving his acquaintance with -Jim Rankin and making a general survey of the situation. The ex-sheriff -proved to be a veritable repository of local information, and Roderick -soon knew a little about everyone and everything in the district. He -learned that Tom Sun, one of his father’s old associates, had from -small beginnings come to be the largest sheep owner in the state; he -was rich and prosperous. With Boney Earnest, however, the other friend -mentioned in the letter, the case was different. Boney had stuck -for years to prospecting and desultory mining without achieving any -substantial success, but had eventually become a blast furnace man in -the big smelting plant at Encampment. There he had worked his way up to -a foreman’s position, and with his practical knowledge of all the ores -in the region was the real brains of the establishment, as Jim Rankin -forcibly declared. He had a large family which absorbed all his earnings -and always kept him on the ragged edge of necessity. - -Rankin himself was not too well fixed—just making a more or less -precarious subsistence out of his stage line and livery stable business. -But he had several big mining deals in hand or at least in prospect, one -or other of which was “dead sure to turn up trumps some day.” The -“some day” appeared to be indefinitely postponed, but meanwhile Jim -had the happiness of living in the genial sunshiny atmosphere of hope. -And the coming of Roderick had changed this mellowed sunshine into -positive radiance, rekindling all the old fires of enthusiasm in the -heart of the old-time prospector. With Roderick the first surge of eager -impetuosity had now settled down into quiet determination. But old Jim -Rankin’s blood was at fever-heat in his eagerness to find the hidden -valley. When alone with Roderick he could talk of nothing else. - -Roderick, however, had shrewdly and cautiously summed up the measure of -his usefulness. Jim Rankin had not the necessary capital to finance -a systematic search among the mountain fastnesses where nature so -jealously guarded her secret. Nor could he leave his horses and his -livery business for any long period, however glibly he might talk -about “going out and finding the blamed place.” As for any precise -knowledge of where the quest should be commenced, he had none. He had -shared in the frequent attempts and failures of Roderick’s father, and -after a lapse of some fifteen or sixteen years had even a slimmer chance -now than then of hitting the spot. So, all things duly considered, -Roderick had adhered to his original resolution of playing a lone hand. -Not even to Rankin did he show his father’s letter and map; their -relations were simply an understanding that the old frontiersman would -help Roderick out to the best of his power whenever opportunity offered -and in all possible ways, and that for services rendered there would be -liberal recompense should golden dreams come to be realized. - -Another reason weighed with Roderick in holding to a policy of -reticence. Despite Jim’s own frequent cautions to “keep mum—say -nothing to nobody,” he himself was not the best hand at keeping a -secret, especially after a few cocktails had lubricated his natural -loquacity. At such moments, under the mildly stimulating influence, Jim -dearly loved to hint at mysterious knowledge locked up in his breast. -And in a mining camp vague hints are liable to become finger posts and -signboards—the very rocks and trees seem to be possessed of ears. So -young Warfield was at least erring on the safe side in keeping his own -counsel and giving no unnecessary confidences anywhere. - -There was nothing to be gained by remaining longer at Rawlins. -Roderick’s slender finances rendered it imperative that he should -find work of some kind—work that would enable him to save a sufficient -stake for the prospecting venture, or give him the chance to search -out the proper moneyed partner who would be ready to share in the -undertaking. And since he had to work it would be well that his -work should, if possible, be on the range, where while earning his -maintenance and husbanding his resources, he could at the same time -be spying out the land and gaining invaluable experience. So he had on -several occasions discussed with Jim Rankin the chances of finding a -temporary job on one of the big cattle ranches, and after one of these -conversations had come his decision to move at once from Rawlins. His -first “voyage of discovery” would be to Encampment, the busy smelter -town. He remembered the cordial invitation extended to him by Grant -Jones, the newspaper man, and felt sure he would run across him there. -From the first he had felt strongly drawn to this buoyant young spirit -of the West, and mingled with his desire for such comradeship was just -a little longing, maybe, to glimpse again the fair smiling faces of the -twin sisters—“mountain wild flowers” as Grant Jones had so happily -described Barbara and Dorothy Shields. - -So one fine morning Roderick found himself seated beside Jim Rankin -on the driver’s seat of an old-fashioned Concord stage coach. With a -crack of Jim’s whip, the six frisky horses, as was their wont at the -beginning of a journey, started off at a gallop down the street. Five or -six passengers were stowed away in the coach. But these were nothing -to Jim Rankin and Roderick Warfield. They could converse on their own -affairs during the long day’s drive. The old frontiersman was, as -usual, in talkative mood. - -“By gunnies,” he exclaimed sotto-voce, as they wheeled along, -“we’ll find that pesky lost gold mine, don’t you forget it. I know -pretty dangnation near its location now. You bet I do and I’ll unbosom -myself and take you to it—jist you and me. I’m thinkin’ a heap -these yere days, you bet I am.” - -Along in the afternoon they crossed over Jack Creek, an important stream -of water flowing from the west into the North Platte River. Jim Rankin -stopped the stage coach and pointed out to our hero the “deadline” -between the cattle and sheep range. “All this yere territory,” said -Jim, “lying north uv Jack Creek is nachure’s sheep pasture and all -lyin’ south uv Jack is cattle range.” - -“It’s well known,” he went on, “where them blamed pesky sheep -feed and graze, by gunnies, vegetation don’t grow agin successful for -several years. The sheep not only nachurlly eat the grass down to its -roots, but their sharp hoofs cut the earth into fine pulp fields uv -dust. Jack Creek is the dividin’ line—the ‘dead line.’” - -“What do you mean by the ‘dead line’.” asked Roderick. - -“The ‘dead line,’”replied old Jim as he clucked to his -horses and swung his long whip at the off-leader—“the ‘dead -line’ is where by the great horn spoon the sheep can’t go any furder -south and the cattle darsn’t come any furder north, or when they do, -Hell’s a-pop-pin.’” - -“What happens?” - -“What happens?” repeated the frontiersman as he expectorated a -huge pit-tew of tobacco juice at a cactus that stood near the roadway. -“Why, by gunnies, hundreds uv ondefensible sheep have been actooally -clubbed to death in a single night by raidin’ cowboys and the -sheep-herders shot to death while sleepin’ in their camp wagons: and -their cookin’ outfit, which is usually in one end uv the wagon, as -well as the camp wagons, burned to conceal evidence of these dastardly -murders. Oh, they sure do make things gay and genial like.” - -“Astonishing! The cowboys must be a pretty wicked lot,” interrogated -Roderick. - -“Well, it’s about six uv one and half a dozen uv the other. You -see these pesky sheep herders and the cowboys are all torn off the same -piece uv cloth. Many a range rider has been picked from his hoss by -these sheep men hidden away in these here rocky cliffs which overlook -the valley. They sure ‘nuff get tumultuous.” - -“But what about the law?” inquired Roderick. “Does it afford no -protection?” - -Jim laughed derisively, pushed his hat far back and replied: -“Everybody that does any killin’ in these here parts sure does it -in self-defense.” He chuckled at his superior knowledge of the West. -“Leastways, that’s what the evidence brings out afore the courts. -However, Tom Sun says the fussin’ is about over with. Last year -more’n twenty cattle men were sentenced to the pen’tentiary up in -the Big Horn country. Sort uv an offset fur about a score uv sheep men -that’s been killed by the cow punchers while tendin’ their flocks on -the range. You bet they’ve been mixin’ things up with artil’ry a -heap.” - -“I clearly perceive,” said Roderick, “that your sympathies are -with the cattle men.” - -Jim Rankin turned quickly and with his piercing black eyes glared at -Roderick as if he would rebuke him for his presumption. - -“Young man, don’t be assoomin’. I ain’t got no sympathy fur -neither one uv ‘em. I don’t believe in murder and I don’t believe -very much in the pen’tentiary. ‘Course when I was sheriff, I had -to do some shootin’ but my shootin’ wuz all within the law. No, I -don’t care a cuss one way or ‘tother. There are lots uv good fellers -ridin’ range. Expect yer will be ridin’ before long. Think I can -help yer get a job on the Shields ranch; if I can’t Grant Jones can. -And ther’s lots uv mighty good sheep-herders too. My old pal, Tom Sun, -is the biggest sheep-man in this whole dang-nation country and he’s -square, he is. So you see I ain’t got no preference, ‘tho’ I do -say the hull kit and bilin’ uv ‘em could be improved. Yes, I’m -nootral. Put that in yer pipe and smoke it, fur it goes dangnation -long ways in this man’s country to be nootral, and don’t git to -furgit’n it.” - -It was late in the afternoon when they neared the little town of -Encampment. Old Jim Rankin began to cluck to his horses and swing his -whip gently and finally more pronouncedly. - -If it is the invariable habit of stage drivers at the point of departure -to start off their horses in a full swinging gallop, it is an equally -inviolable rule, when they approach the point of arrival, that they -come in with a whoop and a hooray. These laws are just as immutable -as ringing the bell or blowing the locomotive whistle when leaving or -nearing a station. So when Jim Rankin cracked his whip, all six horses -leaned forward in their collars, wheeled up the main street in a -swinging gallop, and stopped abruptly in front of the little hotel. - -As Roderick climbed down from the driver’s seat he was greeted with a -hearty “Hello, Warfield, welcome to our city.” The speaker was -none other than Grant Jones himself, for his newspaper instincts always -brought him, when in town, to meet the stage. - -The two young men shook hands with all the cordiality of old friends. - -“If you cannot get a room here at the hotel, you can bunk with me,” -continued Grant. “I have a little shack down towards the smelter.” - -Roderick laughed and said: “Suppose, then, we don’t look for a room. -I’ll be mighty pleased to carry my baggage to your shack now.” - -“All right, that’s a go,” said Grant; and together they started -down the street. - -Grant Jones’ bachelor home consisted of a single room—a hastily -improvised shack, as he had correctly called it, that had cost no very -large sum to build. It was decorated with many trophies of college -life and of the chase. Various college pennants were on the walls, -innumerable pipes, some rusty antiquated firearms, besides a brace -of pistols which Jim Rankin had given to Grant, supposed to be the -identical flint-locks carried by Big Nose George, a desperado of the -early days. - -“You see,” explained Grant as he welcomed his guest, “this is my -Encampment residence. I have another shack over at Dillon where I edit -my paper, the Dillon Doublejack. I spend part of my time in one -place and part in the other. My business is in Dillon but social -attractions—Dorothy Shields, you may have already guessed—are over -this way.” And he blushed red as he laughingly made the confession. - -“And talking of the Shields, by the way,” resumed Grant. “I want -to tell you I took the liberty of mentioning your name to the old man. -He is badly in need of some more hands on the ranch—young fellows who -can ride and are reliable.” - -Roderick was all alert. - -“The very thing I’m looking for,” he said eagerly. “Would he -give me a place, do you think?” - -“I’m certain of it. In fact I promised to bring you over to the -ranch as soon as you turned up at Encampment.” - -“Mighty kind of you, old fellow,” remarked Roderick, gratefully and -with growing familiarity. - -“Well, you can take that bed over there,” said the host. “This one -is mine. You’ll excuse the humble stretchers, I know. Then after you -have opened your grip and made yourself a little at home, we’ll take -a stroll. I fancy that a good big porterhouse won’t come amiss after -your long day’s drive. We’ve got some pretty good restaurants in the -town. I suppose you’ve already discovered that a properly cooked juicy -Wyoming steak is hard to beat, eh, you pampered New Yorker?” - -Roderick laughed as he threw open his valise and arranged his brushes -and other toilet appurtenances on the small table that stood at the head -of the narrow iron stretcher. - -A little later, when night had fallen, the young men went out into the -main street to dine and look over the town. It was right at the edge of -the valley with mountains rising in a semi-circle to south and west, a -typical mountain settlement. - -“You see everything is wide open,” said Grant, as he escorted -Roderick along the streets, arm linked in arm. For they had just -discovered that they belonged to the same college fraternity—Kappa -Gamma Delta, so the bonds of friendship had been drawn tighter still. - -“You have a great town here,” observed Roderick. - -“We have about 1200 to 1500 people and 18 saloons!” laughed the -other. “And every saloon has a gambling lay-out—anything from -roulette to stud-poker. Over yonder is Brig Young’s place. Here is -Southpaw’s Bazaar. The Red Dog is a little farther along; the Golden -Eagle is one of the largest gambling houses in the town. We’ll have -our supper first, and then I’ll take you over to Brig Young’s and -introduce you.” - -As they turned across the street they met a man coming toward them. He -was straight and tall, rather handsome, but a gray mustache made him -seem older than his years. - -“Hello, here is Mr. Grady. Mr. Grady, I want to introduce you to a -newcomer. This is Mr. Roderick Warfield.” - -“Glad to meet you, Mr. Warfield,” said Grady in a smooth voice and -with an oleaginous smile. To Roderick the face seemed a sinister one; -instinctively he felt a dislike for the man. - -“Your town is quite up-to-date, with all its brilliant electric -lights,” he observed with a polite effort at conversation. - -“Yes,” replied Grady, “but it is the monthly pay roll of my big -smelting company that supports the whole place.” - -There was a pomposity in the remark and the look that accompanied it -which added to Roderick’s feelings of repulsion. - -“Oh, I don’t know,” interposed Grant Jones, in a laughing way. -“We have about five hundred prospectors up in the hills who may not -yet be producers, but their monthly expenditures run up into pretty big -figures.” - -“Of course, that amounts to something; but think of my pay roll,” -replied Grady, boastingly. “Almost a thousand men on my pay roll. -We have the biggest copper mine in the Rocky Mountain region, Mr. -War-field. Come down some day and see the smelter,” he added as he -extended his hand in farewell greeting, with a leer rather than a smile -on his face. “I’ll give you a pass.” - -“Thank you,” said Roderick coldly. And the two friends resumed their -walk toward Brig Young’s saloon. - -“I don’t mind telling you,” remarked Grant, “that Grady is the -most pompous, arrogant and all-round hated man in this mining camp.” - -“He looks the part,” replied Roderick, and they both laughed. - -A minute later they were seated in a cosy little restaurant. Ample -justice was done to the succulent Wyoming porterhouse, and cigars were -lighted over the cups of fragrant coffee that completed the meal. Then -the young men resumed their peregrinations pursuant to the programme of -visiting Brig Young’s place, certified by Grant Jones to be one of the -sights of the town. - -The saloon proved to be an immense room with a bar in the corner near -the entrance. Roulette tables, faro lay-outs and a dozen poker tables -surrounded with feverish players were all running full blast, while -half a hundred men were standing around waiting to take the place of any -player who went broke or for any reason dropped out of the game. - -“I guess nearly all the gambling is done here, isn’t it?” asked -Roderick. - -“Not by a big sight. There are eighteen joints of this kind, and they -are all running wide open and doing business all the time.” - -“When do they close?” inquired Roderick. - -“They never close,” replied Grant. “Brig Young boasts that he -threw the key away when this place opened, and the door has never been -locked since.” - -As they spoke their attention was attracted to one corner of the gaming -room. Seven players were grouped around a table, in the centre of which -was stacked a pile of several thousand dollars in gold pieces. Grant and -Roderick strolled over. - -A score of miners and cowboys were standing around watching the game. -One of them said to Grant Jones: “It’s a jack pot and they’re -dealing for openers.” - -Finally someone opened the pot for $500. “It’s an all-fired juicy -pot and I wouldn’t think of openin’ it for less.” Tom Lester was -the player’s name, as Grant whispered to Roderick. - -“I’ll stay,” said One-Eyed Joe. - -“So will I,” said another. - -The players were quickly assisted with cards—four refused to come in, -and the other three, having thrown their discards into the deck, sat -facing each other ready for the final struggle in determining -the ownership of the big pot before them. It was a neck and neck -proposition. First one would see and raise and then another would see -and go better. Finally, the showdown came, and it created consternation -when it was discovered that there were five aces in sight. - -Instantly Tom Lester jerked his Colt’s revolver from his belt and laid -it carefully down on top of his three aces and said: “Steady, boys, -don’t move a muscle or a hand until I talk.” The onlookers pushed -back and quickly enlarged the circle. - -“Sit perfectly still, gentlemen,” said Tom Lester, quietly and in -a low tone of voice, with his cocked revolver in front of him. “I’m -not makin’ any accusations or loud talk—I’m not accusin’ -anybody in particular of anything. Keep perfectly cool an’ hear a -cool determined man talk. Far be it from me to accuse anyone of crooked -dealin’ or holdin’ high cards up their sleeves.” - -As he spoke he looked at One-Eyed Joe who had both a reputation at card -skin games and a record of several notches on his gun handle. - -“I want to say,” Lester continued, “that I recognize in the game -we’re playin’ every man is a perfect gentleman and it’s not Tom -Lester who suspicions any impure motives or crooked work. - -“We will now order a new deck of cards,” said Tom while fire was -flashing out of his steel gray eyes. “We will play this game to a -finish, by God, and the honest winner will take the stakes. But I will -say here and now so there may be no misunderstandin’ and without -further notice, that if a fifth ace shows up again around this table, -I’ll shoot his other eye out.” And he looked straight at One-Eyed -Joe, who never quivered or moved a muscle. - -“This ends my remarks concernin’ the rules. How d’ye like ‘em, -Joe?” - -“Me?” said Joe, looking up in a surprised way with his one eye. -“I’m ‘lowin’ you have made yer position plain—so dangnation -plain that even a blind man kin see the pint.” - -The new deck was brought and the game went on in silence. After a few -deals the pot was again opened, and was in due course won by a player -who had taken no part in the previous mix-up, without a word falling -from the lips of either Tom Lester or One-Eyed Joe. - -Roderick and Grant moved away. - -“Great guns,” exclaimed the former. “But that’s a rare glimpse -of western life.” - -“Oh, there are incidents like that every night,” replied Grant, -“and shooting too at times. Have a drink?” he added as they -approached the bar. - -“Yes, I will have a great big lemonade.” - -“Well,” laughed Grant, “I’ll surprise both you and my stomach by -taking the same.” - -As they sipped their drinks, Grant’s face became a little serious as -he said: “I’m mighty glad you have come. You seem to be of my own -kind. Lots of good boys out here, but they are a little rough and -many of them are rather careless. Guess I am getting a little careless -myself. There are just two men in these mountains who have a good -influence over the boys. One is Major Buell Hampton. Everybody trusts -him. By the way, I must introduce you to him. He is one of the grandest -men I have ever met” As Grant said this he brought his fist down -decisively on the bar. - -“The other is the Reverend Stephen Grannon,” he went on, “the -travelling horseback preacher—carries saddle bags, and all that. Why, -do you know, the boys are so respectful to Reverend Grannon that they -hire a man to go up and down the street ringing a bell, and they close -up all their places for an hour every time he comes to town. He preaches -mostly in the big tent you perhaps saw further up the street, at other -times in the little church. The boys are mighty respectful to him, and -all because they know he goes about doing good. If anyone falls ill, -Reverend Grannon is the first to offer help. He visits the poor and -cheers them with a spirit of hope. He never leaves town without going -into every saloon and shaking hands with the barkeepers, giving them the -same kind of advice but not in the same way—the same advice that -we used to get when we stood around our mother’s knee before we had -learned the sorrows of the big world.” - -For a moment Grant was serious. Then looking up at Roderick, he laughed -and said: “We all have to think of those old days once in a while, -don’t we?” - -Roderick nodded gravely. - -“Now I come to think of it,” said Grant, “the present moment’s a -very good time. We’ll go down and call on one of Nature’s noblemen. -He is somewhat of an enigma. You cannot tell how old he is by looking at -him. He may have seen fifty years or a hundred and fifty—the Lord -only knows, for nobody in this camp has any idea. But you will meet -a magnificent character. Come along. I’m going to present you to my -friend, Major Buell Hampton, about whom I’ve just been speaking. I -guess we’ll catch him at home.” - - - - -CHAPTER VIII.—A PHILOSOPHER AMONG THE MOUNTAINS - -AS THE two young men walked down the brilliantly lighted main street of -Encampment, Grant Jones explained that the water had been dammed several -miles up the south fork of the Encampment river and conducted in a -California red-wood pipe down to the smelter plant for power purposes; -and that the town of Encampment was lighted at a less cost per capita -than any other town in the world. It simply cost nothing, so to speak. - -Grant had pointed out several residences of local celebrities, but at -last a familiar name drew Roderick’s special attention—the name of -one of his father’s old friends. - -“This is Boney Earnest’s home,” Grant was remarking. “He is -the fellow who stands in front of the furnaces at the smelter in a -sleeveless shirt and with a red bandana around his neck. They have a -family of ten children, every one of them as bright as a new silver -dollar. Oh, we have lots of children here and by the way a good public -school. You see that log house just beyond? That is where Boney Earnest -used to live when he first came into camp—before his brood was quite -so numerous. It now belongs to Major Buell Hampton. It is not much to -look at, but just wait until you get inside.” - -“Then this Major Hampton, I presume, has furnished it up in great -shape?” - -“No, nothing but rough benches, a table, some chairs and a few shelves -full of books. What I mean is that Major Hampton’s personality is -there and that beats all the rich furniture and all the bric-à-brac on -earth. As a college man you will appreciate him.” - -Without ceremony Grant rapped vigorously at the door and received a loud -response to “come in.” At the far end of a room that was perhaps 40 -feet long by 20 feet in width was an open fireplace in which huge logs -of wood were burning. Here Major Hampton was standing with his back to -the fire and his hands crossed behind him. - -As his visitors entered, the Major said in courtly welcome: “Mr. Grant -Jones, I am glad to see you.” And he advanced with hand extended. - -“Major, let me introduce you to a newcomer, Roderick Warfield. We -belong to the same ‘frat.’” - -“Mr. Warfield,” responded the Major, shaking the visitor’s hand, -“I welcome you not only to the camp but to my humble dwelling.” - -He led them forward and provided chairs in front of the open fire. On -the center table was a humidor filled with tobacco and beside it lay -several pipes. - -“Mr. Warfield,” observed the Major, speaking with a marked southern -accent, “I am indeed pleased, suh, to meet anyone who is a friend of -Mr. Jones. I have found him a most delightful companion and I hope you -will make free to call on me often. Interested in mining, I presume?” - -“Well,” replied Roderick, “interested, yes, in a way. But -tentative arrangements have been made for me to join the cowboy brigade. -I am to ride the range if Mr. Shields is pleased with me, as our friend -here seems to think he will be. He is looking for some more cowboys and -my name has been mentioned to him.” - -“Yes,” concurred Grant, “Mr. Shields needs some more cowboys very -badly, and as Warfield is accustomed to riding, I’m quite sure he’ll -fill the bill.” - -“Personally,” observed the Major, “I am very much interested in -mining. It has a great charm for me. The taking out of wealth from -the bosom of the earth—wealth that has never been tainted by -commercialism—appeals to me very much.” - -“Then I presume you are doing some mining yourself.” - -“No,” replied the Major. “If I had capital, doubtless I would be -in the mining business. But my profession, if I may term it so, is that -of a hunter. These hills and mountains are pretty full of game, and -I manage to find two or three deer a week. My friend and next door -neighbor, Mr. Boney Earnest, and his family consisting of a wife and -ten children, have been very considerate of me and I have undertaken the -responsibility of furnishing the meat for their table. Are you fond of -venison, Mr. Warfield?” - -“I must confess,” said Roderick, “I have never tasted venison.” - -“Finest meat in the world,” responded the Major. “Of course,” he -went on, “I aim to sell about one deer a week, which brings me a fair -compensation. It enables me to buy tobacco and ammunition,” and he -laughed good naturedly at his limited wants. - -“One would suppose,” interjected Grant Jones, “that the Boney -Earnest family must be provided with phenomenal appetites if they eat -the meat of two deer each week. But if you knew the Major’s practice -of supplying not less than a dozen poor families with venison because -they are needy, you would understand why he does not have a greater -income from the sale of these antlered trophies of the hills.” - -The Major waved the compliment aside and lit his pipe. As he threw his -head well back after the pipe was going, Roderick was impressed that -Major Buell Hampton most certainly was an exceptional specimen of -manhood. He was over six feet tall, splendidly proportioned, and perhaps -weighed considerably more than two hundred pounds. - -There were little things here and there that gave an insight into the -character of the man. Hanging on the wall was a broad-brimmed slouch hat -of the southern planter style. Around his neck the Major wore a heavy -gold watch guard with many a link. To those who knew him best, as -Roderick came subsequently to learn, this chain was symbolical of his -endless kindnesses to the poor—notwithstanding his own poverty, of -such as he had he freely gave; like the chain his charities seemed -linked together without a beginning—without an end. His well-brushed -shoes and puttees, his neatly arranged Windsor tie, denoted the old -school of refinement and good breeding. - -His long dark hair and flowing mustaches were well streaked with gray. -His forehead was knotted, his nose was large but well formed, while -the tangled lines of his face were deep cut and noticeable. From under -heavily thatched eyebrows the eyes beamed forth the rare tenderness and -gentle consideration for others which his conversation suggested. -Long before the evening’s visit was over, a conviction was fixed in -Roderick’s heart that here indeed was a king among men—one on whom -God had set His seal of greatness. - -In later days, when both had become well acquainted, Roderick sometimes -discovered moments when this strange man was in deep meditation—when -his eyes seemed resting far away on some mysterious past or inscrutable -future. And Roderick would wonder whether it was a dark cloud of memory -or anxiety for what was to come that obscured and momentarily dimmed -the radiance of this great soul. It was in such moments that Major Buell -Hampton became patriarchal in appearance; and an observer might well -have exclaimed: “Here is one over whom a hundred winters or even -countless centuries have blown their fiercest chilling winds.” But -when Buell Hampton had turned again to things of the present, his face -was lit up with his usual inspiring smile of preparedness to -consider the simplest questions of the poorest among the poor of his -acquaintances—a transfiguration indescribable, as if the magic work -of some ancient alchemist had pushed the years away, transforming the -centenarian into a comparatively young man who had seen, perhaps, not -more than half a century. He was, indeed, changeable as a chameleon. -But in all phases he looked, in the broadest sense of the word, the -humanitarian. - -As the three men sat that night around the fire and gazed into the -leaping flames and glowing embers, there had been a momentary lull in -the conversation, broken at last by the Major. - -“I hope we shall become great friends, Mr. War-field,” he said. -“But to be friends we must be acquainted, and in order to be really -acquainted with a man I must know his views on politics, religion, -social questions, and the economic problems of the age in which we -live.” - -He waved his hand at the bookshelves well filled with volumes whose worn -bindings showed that they were there for reading and not for show. -Long rows of periodicals, even stacks of newspapers, indicated close -attention to the current questions of the day. - -“Rather a large order,” replied Roderick, smiling. “It would take -a long time to test out a man in such a thorough way.” - -The Major paid no heed to the comment. Still fixedly regarding the -bookshelves, he continued: “You see my library, while not extensive, -represents my possessions. Each day is a link in life’s chain, and I -endeavor to keep pace with the latest thought and the latest steps in -the world’s progress.” - -Then he turned round suddenly and asked the direct question: “By the -way, Mr. Warfield, are you a married man?” - -Roderick blushed the blush of a young bachelor and confessed that he was -not. - -“Whom God hath joined let no man put asunder,” laughed Grant Jones. -“The good Lord has not joined me to anyone yet, but I am hoping He -will.” - -“Grant, you are a boy,” laughed the Major. “You always will be a -boy. You are quick to discover the ridiculous; and yet,” went on the -Major reflectively, “I have seen my friend Jones in serious mood at -times. But I like him whether he is frivolous or serious. When you boys -speak of marriage as something that is arranged by a Divine power, you -are certainly laboring under one of the many delusions of this world.” - -Roderick remembered his compact with Stella Rain, the pretty little -college widow. For a moment his mind was back at the campus grounds in -old Galesburg. Presently he said: “I beg your pardon, Major, but would -you mind giving me your ideas of an ideal marriage?” - -“An ideal marriage,” repeated the Major, smiling, as he knocked the -ashes from his meerschaum. “Well, an ideal marriage is a something the -young girl dreams about, a something the engaged girl believes she has -found, and a something the married woman knows never existed.” - -He looked deep into the open grate as if re-reading a half forgotten -chapter in his own life. Presently refilling and lighting his pipe he -turned to Roderick and said: “When people enter into marriage—a -purely civil institution—a man agrees to bring in the raw -products—the meat, the flour, the corn, the fuel; and the woman agrees -to manufacture the goods into usable condition. The husband agrees -to provide a home—the wife agrees to take care of it and keep it -habitable. In one respect marriage is slavery,” continued the Major, -“slavery in the sense that each mutually sentences himself or herself -to a life of servitude, each serving the other in, faithfully carrying -out, when health permits, their contract or agreement of partnership. -Therefore marriages are made on earth—not in heaven. There is -nothing divine about them. They are, as I have said, purely a civil -institution.” - -The speaker paused. His listeners, deeply interested, were reluctant by -any interruption to break the flow of thought. They waited patiently, -and presently the Major resumed: “Since the laws of all civilized -nations recognize the validity of a partnership contract, they should -also furnish an honorable method of nullifying and cancelling it when -either party willfully breaks the marriage agreement of partnership by -act of omission or commission. Individuals belonging to those isolated -cases ‘Whom God hath joined’—if perchance there are any—of -course have no objections to complying with the formalities of the -institutions of marriage; they are really mated and so the divorce court -has no terrors for them. It is only from among the great rank and file -of the other class whom ‘God hath not joined’ that the unhappy -victims are found hovering around the divorce courts, claiming that the -partnership contract has been violated and broken and the erring one has -proven a false and faithless partner. - -“In most instances, I believe, and it is the saddest part of it all, -the complainant is usually justified. And it is certainly a most wise, -necessary, and humane law that enables an injured wife or husband to -terminate a distasteful or repulsive union. Only in this way can the -standard of humanity be raised by peopling the earth with natural -love-begotten children, free from the effects of unfavorable pre-natal -influences which not infrequently warp and twist the unborn into -embryonic imbeciles or moral perverts with degenerate tendencies. - -“Society as well as posterity is indebted fully as much to the civil -institution of divorce as it is to the civil institution of marriage. -Oh, yes, I well know, pious-faced church folks walk about throughout -the land with dubs to bludgeon those of my belief without going to the -trouble of submitting these vital questions to an unprejudiced court of -inquiry.” - -The Major smiled, and said: “I see you young men are interested in my -diatribe, or my sermon—call it which you will—so I’ll go on. -Well, the churches that are nearest to the crudeness of antiquity, -superstition, and ignorance are the ones most unyielding and -denunciatory to the institution of divorce. The more progressive the -church or the community and the more enlightened the human race becomes, -the less objectionable and the more desirable is an adequate system of -divorce laws—laws that enable an injured wife or husband to refuse -to stultify their conscience and every instinct of decency by bringing -children into the world that are not welcome. A womanly woman covets -motherhood—desires children—love offerings with which to people the -earth—babes that are not handicapped with parental hatreds, regrets, -or disgust. Marriage is not a flippant holiday affair but a most serious -one, freighted not alone with grave responsibilities to the mutual -happiness of both parties to the civil contract, but doubly so to the -offspring resultant from the union. But I guess that is about enough -of my philosophy for one evening, isn’t it?” he concluded, with a -little laugh that was not devoid of bitterness—it might have been the -bitterness of personal reminiscence, or bitterness toward a blind and -misguided world in general, or perhaps both combined. - -Grant Jones turning to Roderick said: “Well, what do you think of the -Major’s theory?” - -“I fear,” said Roderick in a serious tone, “that it is not a -theory but an actual condition.” - -“Bravo,” said the Major as he arose from his chair and advanced to -Roderick, extending his hand. “All truth,” said he, “in time -will be uncovered, truth that today is hidden beneath the débris of -formalities, ignorance, and superstition.” - -“But why, Major,” asked Grant, “are there so many divorces? Do -not contracting parties know their own minds? Now it seems impossible -to conceive of my ever wanting a divorce from a certain little lady I -know,” he added with a pleasant laugh—the care-free, confiding laugh -of a boy. - -“My dear Jones,” said the Major, “the supposed reasons for divorce -are legion—the actual reasons are perhaps few. However it is not for -me to say that all the alleged reasons are not potent and sufficient. -When we hear two people maligning each other in or out of the court we -are prone to believe both are telling the truth. Truth is the underlying -foundation of respect, respect begets friendship, and friendship -sometimes is followed by the more tender passion we call love. A man -meets a woman,” the Major went on, thoughtfully, “whom he knows is -not what the world calls virtuous. He may fall in love with her and may -marry her and be happy with her. But if a man loves a woman he believes -to be virtuous and then finds she is not—it is secretly regarded by -him as the unforgivable sin and is doubtless the unspoken and unwritten -allegation in many a divorce paper.” - -He mused for a moment, then went on: “Sometime there will be a single -standard of morals for the sexes, but as yet we are not far enough away -from the brutality of our ancestors. Yes, it is infinitely better,” -he added, rising from his chair, “that a home should be broken into -a thousand fragments through the kindly assistance of a divorce court -rather than it should only exist as a family battle ground.” The -tone of his voice showed that the talk was at an end, and he bade his -visitors a courteous good-night, with the cordial addition: “Come -again.” - -“It was great,” remarked Roderick, as the young men wended their -homeward way. “What a wealth of new thought a fellow can bring away -from such a conversation!” - -“Just as I told you,” replied Grant “But the Major opens his -inmost heart like that only to his chosen friends.” - -“Then I’m mighty glad to be enrolled among the number,” said -Roderick. “Makes a chap feel rather shy of matrimony though, doesn’t -it?” - -“Not on your life. True love can never change—can never wrong -itself. When you feel that way toward a girl, Warfield, and know that -the girl is of the same mind, go and get the license—no possible -mistake can be made.” - -Grant Jones was thinking of Dorothy Shields, and his face was aglow. -To Roderick had come thought of Stella Rain, and he felt depressed. Was -there no mistake in his love affair?—this was the uneasy question that -was beginning to call for an answer. And yet he had never met a girl -whom he would prefer to the dainty, sweet, unselfish, brave little -“college widow” of Galesburg. - - - - -CHAPTER IX—THE HIDDEN VALLEY - -WITHIN a few days of Roderick’s advent into the camp he was duly added -to the cowboy list on the ranch of the wealthy cattleman, Mr. Shields, -whose property was located a few miles east from the little mining town -and near the banks of the Platte River. A commodious and handsome home -stood apart from the cattle corral and bunk house lodgings for the -cowboy helpers. There were perhaps twenty cowboys in Mr. Shields’ -employment. His vast herds of cattle ranged in the adjoining hills and -mountain canyons that rimmed the eastern edge of the valley. - -Grant Jones had proved his friendship in the strongest sort of an -introduction, and was really responsible for Roderick securing a job -so quickly. But it was not many days before Roderick discovered that -Doro-try Shields was perhaps the principal reason why Grant rode over to -the ranch so often, ostensibly to visit him. - -During the first month Roderick did not leave the ranch but daily -familiarized himself with horse and saddle. He had always been a good -rider, but here he learned the difference between a trained steed and an -unbroken mustang. Many were his falls and many his bruises, but finally -he came to be quite at home on the back of the fiercest bucking broncho. - -One Saturday evening he concluded to look up Grant Jones and perhaps -have another evening with Major Buell Hampton. So he saddled a pony and -started. But at the edge of town he met his friend riding toward the -country. They drew rein, and Grant announced, as Roderick had already -divined, that he was just starting for the Shields home. They finally -agreed to call on Major Buell Hampton for half an hour and then ride out -to the ranch together. - -As they approached Major Hampton’s place they found him mounting his -horse, having made ready for the hills. - -“How is this, Major?” asked Grant Jones. “Is it not rather late in -the afternoon for you to be starting away with your trusty rifle?” - -“Well,” replied the Major, after saluting his callers most -cordially, “yes, it is late. But I know where there is a deer lick, -and as I am liable to lose my reputation as a hunter if I do not bring -in a couple more venisons before long, why I propose to be on the ground -with the first streak of daylight tomorrow morning.” - -He glanced at the afternoon sun and said: “I think I can reach the -deer lick soon after sun-down. I shall remain over night and be ready -for the deer when they first begin stirring. They usually frequent the -lick I intend visiting.” - -The Major seemed impatient to be gone and soon his horse was cantering -along carrying him into the hills, while Roderick and Grant were riding -leisurely through the lowlands of the valley road toward the Shields -ranch. - -All through the afternoon Buell Hampton skirted numerous rocky banks -and crags and climbed far up into the mountain country, then down -abrupt hill-sides only to mount again to still higher elevations. He was -following a dim trail with which he showed himself familiar and that led -several miles away to Spirit River Falls. - -Near these falls was the deer lick. For three consecutive trips the -hunter had been unsuccessful. He had witnessed fully a dozen deer -disappear along the trail that led down to the river’s bank, but none -of them had returned. It was a mystery. He did not understand where the -deer could have gone. There was no ford or riffle in the river and the -waters were too deep to admit belief of the deer finding a crossing. He -wondered what was the solution. - -This was the real reason why he had left home late that afternoon, -determined, when night came on, to tether his horse in the woods far -away from the deer lick, make camp and be ready the following morning -for the first appearance of some fine buck as he came to slake -his thirst. If he did not get that buck he would at least find the -trail—indeed on the present occasion it was less the venison he was -after than the solving of the mystery. - -Arriving at his destination, the improvised camp was leisurely made and -his horse given a generous feed of oats. After this he lighted a fire, -and soon a steaming cup of coffee helped him to relish the bread and -cold meat with which he had come provided. - -After smoking several pipes of tobacco and building a big log fire for -the night—for the season was far advanced and there was plenty of -snow around—Buell Hampton lay down in his blankets and was soon fast -asleep, indifferent to the blinking stars or to the rhythmic stirring of -clashing leafless limbs fanned into motion by the night winds. - -With the first breaking of dawn the Major was stirring. After refreshing -himself with hot coffee and glancing at the cartridges in his rifle, he -stole silently along under the overhanging foliage toward the deer lick. - -The watcher had hardly taken a position near an old fallen tree when -five deer came timidly along the trail, sniffing the air in a half -suspicious fashion. - -Lifting his rifle to his shoulder the hunter took deliberate aim and -fired. A young buck leaped high in the air, wheeled about from the trail -and plunged madly toward his enemy. But it was the stimulated madness of -death. The noble animal fell to its knees—then partially raised -itself with one last mighty effort only to fall back again full length, -vanquished in the uneven battle with man. The Major’s hunting knife -quickly severed the jugular vein and the animal was thoroughly bled. -A little later this first trophy of the chase had been dressed and -gambreled with the dexterity of a stock yard butcher and hung high on -the limb of a near by tree. - -The four remaining deer, when the Major fired, had rushed frantically -down the trail bordered with dense underbrush and young trees that led -over the brow of the embankment and on down to the river. The hunter now -started in pursuit, following the trail to the water’s edge. But there -were no deer to be seen. - -Looking closely he noted that the tracks turned directly to the left -toward the waterfall. - -The bank was very abrupt, but by hugging it closely and stepping -sometimes on stones in the water, while pushing the overhanging and -tangled brushwood aside, he succeeded in making some headway. To his -surprise the narrow trail gave evidence of much use, as the tracks were -indeed numerous. But where, he asked himself, could it possibly lead? -However, he was determined to persevere and solve the mystery of where -the deer had gone and thus escaped him on the previous occasions. - -Presently he had traversed the short distance to the great cataract -tumbling over the shelf of rock almost two hundred feet above. Here he -found himself under the drooping limbs of a mammoth tree that grew so -close to the waterfall that the splashing spray enveloped him like a -cold shower. Following on, to his astonishment he reached a point behind -the waterfall where he discovered a large cavern with lofty arched roof, -like an immense hall in some ancient ruined castle. - -While the light was imperfect yet the morning sun, which at that hour -shone directly on the cascade, illuminated up the cavern sufficiently -for the Major to see into it for quite a little distance. It seemed to -recede directly into the mountain. The explorer cautiously advanced, and -soon was interested at another discovery. A stream fully fifteen feet -wide and perhaps two feet deep flowed directly out of the heart of the -mountain along the center of the grotto, to mingle its waters with those -of Spirit River at the falls. - -Major Hampton paused to consider this remarkable discovery. He now -remembered that the volume of Spirit River had always impressed him as -being larger below the noted Spirit River Falls than above, and here -was the solution. The falls marked the junction of two bodies of water. -Where this hidden river came from he had no idea. Apparently its source -was some great spring situated far back in the mountain’s interior. - -The Major was tensioned to a high key, and determined to investigate -further. Making his way slowly and carefully along the low stone shelf -above the river, he found that the light did not penetrate more -than about three hundred feet. Looking closely he found there was an -abundance of deer sign, which greatly mystified him. - -Retracing his steps to the waterfall, the Major once more crept along -the path next to the abrupt river bank, and, climbing up the embankment, -regained the deer trail where he had shot the young buck. He seated -himself on an old fallen tree. Here on former occasions Major Hampton -had waited many an hour for the coming of deer and indulged in -day-dreaming how to relieve the ills of humanity, how to lighten the -burdens of the poor and oppressed. Now, however, he was roused to -action, and was no longer wrapped in the power of silence and the -contemplation of abstract subjects. His brain and his heart were -throbbing with the excitement of adventure and discovery. - -After full an hour’s thought his decision was reached and a course -of action planned. First of all he proceeded to gather a supply of dry -brush and branches, tying them into three torch-like bundles with stout -cord, a supply of which he invariably carried in his pockets. Then he -inspected his match box to make sure the matches were in good condition. -Finally picking up his gun, pulling his hunting belt a little tighter, -examining his hatchet and knife to see if they were safe in his belt -scabbard, he again set forth along the deer trail, down to the river. -Overcoming the same obstacles as before, he soon found himself in the -grotto behind the waterfall. - -Lighting one of his torches the Major started on a tour of further -discovery. His course again led him over the comparatively smooth ledge -of rock that served as a low bank for the waters of the hidden stream. -But now he was able to advance beyond the point previously gained. After -a while his torch burned low and he lighted another. The subterranean -passage he was traversing narrowed at times until there was scarcely -more than room to walk along the brink of the noisy waters, and again it -would widen out like some great colosseum. The walls and high ceilings -were fantastically enchanting, while the light from his torch made -strange shadows, played many tricks on his nerves, and startled him with -optical illusions. Figures of stalactites and rows of basaltic columns -reflected the flare of the brand held aloft, and sometimes the explorer -fancied himself in a vault hung with tapestries of brilliant sparkling -crystals. - -Finally the third and last torch was almost burned down to the hand hold -and the Major began to awaken to a keen sense of his difficult position, -and its possible dangers. When attempting to change the stub of burning -brushwood from one hand to the other and at the same time not drop his -rifle, the remnants of the torch fell from his grasp into the rapid -flowing waters and he was left in utter darkness. Apprehension came upon -him—an eerie feeling of helplessness. True, there was a box of matches -in the pocket of his hunting coat, but these would afford but feeble -guidance in a place where at any step there might be a pitfall. - -Major Hampton was a philosopher, but this was a new experience, -startling and unique. Everything around was pitch dark. He seemed to -be enveloped in a smothering black robe. Presently above the murmur -and swish of running water he could hear his heart beating. He mentally -figured that he must have reached a distance of not less than three -miles from Spirit River Falls. The pathway had proved fairly smooth -walking, but unknown dangers were ahead, while a return trip in Stygian -darkness would be an ordeal fraught with much risk. - -Stooping over the low bank he thrust his hand into the current to make -sure of its course. The water was only a little below the flat ledge of -rock on which he was standing, and was cold as the waters of a mountain -spring. It occurred to him that he had been thirsty for a long time -although in his excitement he had not been conscious of this. So he lay -down flat and thrust his face into the cool grateful water. - -Rising again to his feet he felt greatly refreshed, his nerve restored, -and he had just about concluded to retrace his steps when his eyes, by -this time somewhat accustomed to the darkness, discovered in an upstream -direction, a tiny speck of light He blinked and then questioningly -rubbed his eyes. But still the speck did not disappear. It seemed no -larger than a silver half dollar. It might be a ray of light filtering -through some crevice, indicating a tunnel perhaps that would afford -means of escape. - -Using his gun as a staff wherewith to feel his way and keeping as far -as possible from the water’s edge, Major Hampton moved slowly upstream -toward the guiding spot of radiance. In a little while he became -convinced it was the light of day shining in through an opening. The -speck grew larger and larger as he slowly moved forward. - -Every once in a while he would stop and turn his face in the opposite -direction, remaining in this position for a few moments and then quickly -turning round again to satisfy himself that he was under no illusion. -But the luminous disc was really growing larger—it appeared now to -be as big as a saucer. His heart throbbed with hope and his judgment -approved that the advance should be continued. - -Yes, the light was increasing, and looking down he fancied he could -almost see the butt of his gun which was being used as a walking stick. -Presently his feet could indistinctly be seen, and then the rocky -pavement over which he was so cautiously shuffling his way. - -Ten minutes later the mouth of a tunnel was reached, and he was safe -once more, bathed in God’s own sunshine, his eyes still dazzled after -the Cimmerian blackness from which he had emerged. He had traversed the -entire length of the subterranean cave or river channel, and had reached -the opposite side of a high mountain. Perhaps the distance through -was only about three and a half miles. Trees and underbrush grew in -profusion about the mouth of the tunnel into which the hidden river -flowed. There was less snow than on the other side of the barrier. Deer -sign were everywhere, and he followed a zig-zag deer path out into an -open narrow valley. - -The Major’s heart now leaped with the exultation of accomplishment. -Brushing the light covering of snow away, he seated himself on the bank -of the stream which could not, now that he looked upon it in the -open day, be dignified by calling it a river. Along the edges of the -watercourse were fringes of ice but in the center the rapid flow was -unobstructed. - -It was only a big mountain brook, but one perhaps that had never been -seen before by the eyes of man. The exploration and the excitement -together had greatly fatigued Buell Hampton, and he was beginning to be -conscious of physical exhaustion and the need of food notwithstanding -the sustaining stimulus of being a discoverer in one of Nature’s -jealously guarded wonderlands. - -After resting a short time he started to walk farther into the valley -and forage along the stream. The hunter was on the lookout for grouse -but succeeded in shooting only a young sage hen. This was quickly -dressed and broiled, the forked stick that served as a spit being -skilfully turned in the blaze of a fire of twigs and brushwood. The -repast was a modest one, but the wayfarer felt greatly refreshed, and -now stepped briskly on, following the water channel toward its fountain -head. - -It was indeed a beautiful valley—an ideal one—very little snow and -the deer so plentiful that at a distance they might be mistaken for -flocks of grazing sheep. The valley appeared to be exceedingly fertile -in season. It was a veritable park, and so far as the explorer could -at present determine was completely surrounded by high snow-capped -mountains which were steep enough to be called precipices. He soon came -to a dyke that ran across the valley at right angles to the stream. -It was of porphyry formation, rising to a height of from three to four -feet, and reaching right across the narrow valley from foothill to -foothill. When Major Hampton climbed upon this dyke he noticed that the -swiftly flowing brook had cut an opening through it as evenly almost as -if the work had been chiseled by man. He was anxious to know whether the -valley would lead to an opening from among the mountains, and after a -brief halt pushed hurriedly on. - -But an hour later he had retraced his steps and was again seated on -the bench-like dyke of porphyry. He had made a complete circuit of this -strange “nest” or gash in the vastness of the Rocky Mountain Range -and was convinced there was no opening. The brook had its rise in a -number of mammoth springs high up on the mountain foothills at the upper -end of the valley, where it was also fed by several waterfalls that -dropped from the dizzy cliffs far above. - -The valley was perhaps three miles long east and west and not over -one-half mile wide north and south. The contour of the mountain sides -to the south conformed to the contour on the north, justifying the -reasonable conjecture that an earthquake or violent volcanic upheaval -must have tom the mountains apart in prehistoric times. It was evidently -in all truth a hidden valley—not on the map of the U. S. Survey—a -veritable new land. - -“To think,” mused the Major, aloud, “that I have discovered a new -possession. What an asylum for the weary! Surely the day has been full -of startling surprises.” - -He was seated on the dyke almost at the very edge of the brock where the -waters were singing their song of peaceful content. He let his glance -again sweep the valley with the satisfied look of one conscious of some -unanalyzed good fortune. - -There was no snow on the porphyry dyke where he rested. It was -moss-covered in many places with the coating of countless centuries. -Most likely no human foot but his had ever pressed the sod of this -sequestered nook among the mighty mountains. The very thought was -uplifting—inspiring. Pulling his hunter’s hatchet from its sheath -he said aloud: “I christen thee ‘Hidden Valley,’”and struck -the porphyry rock a vigorous blow, so vigorous indeed that it chipped -off a goodly piece. - -Major Buell Hampton paused, astonished. He looked and then he looked -again. He picked up the chipped off piece of rock and gazed long and -earnestly at it, then rubbed his eyes in amazement. It was literally -gleaming with pure gold. - -Immediately the hatchet again came into play. Piece after piece was -broken open and all proved to be alike—rich specimens fit for the -cabinet of a collector. The drab moss-covered dyke really contained the -wealth of a King Solomon’s mine. It was true—true, though almost -unbelievable. Yet in this moment of overwhelming triumph Buell Hampton -saw not with the eyes of avarice and greed for personal gain, but rather -with the vision of the humanitarian. Unlimited wealth had always been -for him a ravishing dream, but he had longed for it, passionately, -yearningly, not as a means to supply pleasures for himself but to -assuage the miseries of a suffering world. - -He was not skilled in judging rock carrying values of precious metals, -but in this instance the merest novice could hardly be mistaken. Hastily -breaking as much of the golden ore as he could carry in his huge coat -pockets and taking one last sweeping survey over the valley, the Major -started on his return trip to Spirit River Falls. Arriving at the point -where the waters of the brook disappeared in the natural tunnel of the -“Hidden River,” the name he mentally gave to the romantic stream, -he gathered some torch material and then started on the return trip. Two -hours later he emerged from behind the turbulent waters at Spirit River -Falls. In the waning afternoon he regained his camp. After watering his -patient horse, giving it another feed of oats and apologizing with many -a gentle caressing pat for his long absence and seeming neglect, the -Major set out for home, the dressed deer strapped on behind his saddle, -with the deer skin rolled around the venison as a protection. - -Early the following morning Buell Hampton visited an assay office, -carrying with him an ore sack containing nine pounds and a half of ore. -The Major felt certain it was ore—gold ore, almost pure gold—but was -almost afraid of his own convictions. The discovery was really too good -to be true. - -The assayer tossed the sack of gold onto a table where other samples -were awaiting his skill and said: “All right, Major, come in sometime -tomorrow.” - -“It’s important,” replied the Major, “that you assay it at once. -It is high grade; I wish to sell.” - -“Oh, ho!” replied the assayer with elevated eyebrows. Possibly he -was like many another who encouraged the “high-graders” in their -nefarious thefts from their employers when they were trusted to work on -a rich property. - -“Why, Major Hampton, I didn’t know you were one of ‘em—one of -us,” and he finished with a leer and a laugh. “Bet I can tell what -mine it came from,” he went on as he leisurely untied the ore sacks. - -“I will remain right here,” replied Major Hampton firmly, without -yielding to the assayer’s offensive hilarity, “until you have my -samples assayed and make me an offer.” - -By this time the sack of rock had been emptied into an ore pan and the -astonishment depicted on the assayer’s countenance would have beggared -description. The sight of the ore staggered him into silence. Other work -was pushed hurriedly aside and before very long the fire test was in -process of being made. When finally finished the “button” weighed at -the rate of $114.67 per pound, and the assayer, still half bewildered, -handed over a check for almost eleven hundred dollars. - -“I say,” he almost shouted, “I say, Major Hampton, where in hell -did that ore come from? Surely not from any of the producing mines about -here?” - -“It seems to be a producer, all right,” replied the Major, as he -folded the check and placed it in his pocketbook. - - - - -CHAPTER X.—THE FAIR RIDER OF THE RANGE - -WHEN Buell Hampton left the assayer’s office he felt a chilliness in -the air that caused him to cast his eyes upwards. There had been bright -sunshine early that morning, but now the whole sky was overcast with a -dull monotonous gray pall. Not a breath of wind was stirring; there -was just a cold stillness in the air that told its own tale to those -experienced in the weather signs of the mountains. - -“Snow,” muttered the Major, emphatically. “It has been long in -coming this winter, but we’ll have a big fall by night.” - -The season indeed had been exceptionally mild. There had been one or two -flurries of snow, but each had been followed by warm days and the light -fall had speedily melted, at least in the open valley. High up, the -mountains had their white garb of winter, but even at these elevations -there had been no violent storms. - -Buell Hampton, however, realized that the lingering autumn was now gone, -and that soon the whole region would be in the rigorous grip of the -Snow King. Henceforth for some months to come would be chill winds, -protracted and frequently recurring downfalls of snow, great high-banked -snowdrifts in the canyons, and later on the mighty snowslides that -sheared timber-clad mountain slopes as if with a giant’s knife and -occasionally brought death and destruction to some remote mining camp. -For the present the Major’s hunting expeditions were at an end. But -as he glanced at the heavy canopy of snow-laden cloud he also knew that -days must elapse, weeks perhaps, before he could revisit the hidden -valley high up in the mountains. For yet another winter tide Nature -would hold her treasure safe from despoiling hands. - -Buell Hampton faced the situation with characteristic philosophy. All -through the afternoon he mused on his good fortune. He was glad to have -brought down even only a thousand dollars from the golden storehouse, -for this money would ensure comfort during the inclement season for a -good few humble homes. Meanwhile, like a banker with reserves of bullion -safely locked up in his vault, he could plan out the future and see how -the treasure was to be placed to best advantage. In Buell Hampton’s -case the field of investment was among the poor and struggling, and -the only dividends he cared for were increased percentages of human -happiness. The coming of winter only delayed the good work he had in -mind, but even now the consciousness of power to perform brought great -joy to his heart. Alone in his home he paced the big room, only pausing -at times to throw another log on the fire or gaze awhile into the -glowing embers, day-dreaming, unspeakably happy in his day-dreams. - -Meanwhile, in anticipation of the coming snowstorm, young Warfield was -riding the range and gathering cattle and yearlings that had strayed -away from the herd. As he was surmounting a rather steep foothill across -the valleys to the westward between the two Encampment rivers, he was -startled at hearing the patter of a horse’s hoofs. Quickly looking up -he saw a young woman on horseback dashing swiftly along and swinging -a lariat. She wore a divided brown skirt, wide sombrero, fringed -gauntlets, and sat her horse with graceful ease and confidence. She was -coming down the mountainside at right angles to his course. - -Bringing his pony quickly to a standstill Roderick watched the spirited -horse-woman as she let go her lariat at an escaping yearling that -evidently had broken out of some corral The lariat went straight to its -mark, and almost at the same moment he heard her voice as she spoke -to her steed, quickly but in soft melodious tones: “That will do, -Fleetfoot. Whoa!” Instantly the well-trained horse threw himself well -back on his haunches and veered to the left. The fleeing yearling was -caught around one of its front feet and thrown as neatly as the most -expert cowboy on the range could have done it. - -“By George,” said Roderick to himself, “what a fine piece of -work.” He watched with admiring eyes as the young lady sat her horse -in an attitude of waiting. Presently a cowboy rode up, and relieving -her of the catch started the yearling back, evidently toward the corral. -Turning about, the horsewoman started her horse at a canter directly -toward him, and Roderick fell to wondering what sort of a discovery he -had made. - -A moment later she brought her horse to a standstill and acknowledged -his salutation as he lifted his sombrero. He saw the red blood glowing -under the soft tan of her cheeks, and as their eyes met he was fairly -dazzled by her beauty. He recognized at a glance the western type of -girl, frank and fearless, accustomed to the full and health-giving -freedom of life in the open, yet accomplished and domesticated, equally -at home in the most tastefully adorned drawing room as here on horseback -among the mountains. - -“I beg pardon,” he said in a stammering way, “but can I be of any -service?” - -At his words she pulled her pony to a standstill and said: “In what -way, pray?”—and there was a mischievous smile at Roderick’s -obvious embarrassment. - -“Why, I saw you lariating a yearling.” - -“Oh,” she said, throwing back her head and laughing softly, “that -was a long time ago. It is doubtless in the corral by now.” - -As she spoke, Roderick dismounted. He was capable now of assimilating -details, and noted the silken dark Egyptian locks that fell in fluffy -waves over her temples in a most bewitching manner, and the eyes that -shone with the deep dark blue of the sapphire. His gaze must have -betrayed his admiration, for, courteously waving her hand, she touched -with her spurs the flanks of her mount and bounded away across the -hills. Roderick was left standing in wonderment. - -“Who the dickens can she be?” he soliloquized. “I’ve been riding -the range for a good many weeks, but this is the first time I’ve -spotted this mountain beauty.” - -Throwing himself onto his horse, he started down toward the south -fork of the Encampment river and on to the westward the Shields ranch, -wondering as he rode along who this strange girl of the hills could be. -Once or twice he thought of Stella Rain and he manfully endeavored to -keep his mind concentrated on the one to whom he was betrothed, running -over in memory her last letter, reckoning the time that must elapse -before the next one would arrive, recalling the tender incidents of -their parting now two months ago. But his efforts were in vain. Always -there kept recurring the vision of loveliness he had encountered on the -range, and the mystery that surrounded the fair rider’s identity. Once -again since Major Buell Hampton’s long diatribe on love and matrimony, -he was vaguely conscious that his impetuous love-making on that -memorable evening at Galesburg might have been a mistake, and that the -little “college widow” in her unselfishness had spoken words of -wisdom when she had counselled him to wait awhile—until he really did -know his own mind—until he had really tried out his own heart, yes, -until—Great heavens, he found himself recalling her very words, -spoken with tears in her soft pretty eyes: “That’s just the trouble, -Roderick. You do not know—you cannot make a comparison, nor you -won’t know until the other girl comes along.” - -Had the other girl at last come? But at the disloyal thought he spurred -his horse to a gallop, and as he did so the first snowflakes of the -coming storm fluttered cold and damp against his flushed cheeks. At last -he thought of other things; he was wondering now, as he glanced around -into the thickening atmosphere, whether all the stray mavericks were at -last safe in the winter pastures and corrals. - - - - -CHAPTER XI.—WINTER PASSES - -THAT night the big snow storm did indeed come, and when Roderick woke -up next morning it was to find mountain and valley covered with a vast -bedspread of immaculate white and the soft snowflakes still descending -like a feathery down. The storm did not catch Mr. Shields unprepared; -his vast herds were safe and snug in their winter quarters. - -The break in the weather marked the end of Roderick’s range riding -for the season. He was now a stock feeder and engaged in patching up the -corrals and otherwise playing his part of a ranch hand. And with this -stay-at-home life he found himself thinking more and more of the real -mission that had brought him into this land of mountains. Nearly every -night when his work was finished, he studied a certain map of the -hills—the inheritance left him by his father. On this map were noted -“Sheep Mountain,” “Bennet Peak,” “Hahn’s Peak” and several -other prominent landmarks. From his own acquaintance with the country -Roderick now knew that the lost valley was quite a distance to the south -and west from the Shields ranch. - -Thus the wintry days wore on, and with their passing Roderick became -more and more firm in his determination to be ready, when the snow was -gone in the spring, to take up his father’s unfinished task of finding -again the sandbar abounding with nuggets of gold. Indeed in his life of -isolation it gradually came about that he thought of little else by day -and dreamed of nothing else at night. Sometimes in the solitude of his -room he smiled at his loneliness. What a change from the old college -days—from the stir and excitement of New York. During the winter he -had been invited to a score of gatherings, dances, and parties, but -somehow he had become taciturn and had declined all invitations. - -Then, with stern self-control he had succeeded in putting out of mind the -mysterious beauty of the range. Love at first sight!—he had laughed -down such silliness, and rooted out of his heart the base treason that -had even for a fleeting moment permitted such a thought. Yes, there was -nothing but firmest loyalty in his mind for Stella Rain, who was waiting -for him so faithfully and patiently, and whose letters cheered him and -filled him with greater determination than ever to find the lost mine. - -His labors on the ranch were arduous but his health was excellent. At -college he had been an athlete—now he was a rugged, bronzed-faced son -of the hills. His only recreations were laying plans for the future and -writing letters to Stella. - -Not infrequently his mind wandered back to Keokuk, the old river town, -and his heart grew regretful that he had quarreled with his Unde Allen -Miller, and his thoughts were tender of his Aunt Lois. Once he wrote -a letter to Whitley Adams, then tore it up in a dissatisfied way, -returning to the determination to make his fortune before communicating -with his old friends. - -And so the winter passed, and spring had come again. - -It was one morning in early May, just after he had finished his chores, -when to his surprise Grant Jones shouted to him through the corral -fence: “Hello, old man, how is ranching agreeing with you, anyway?” - -“Fine,” responded Roderick, “fine and dandy.” He let himself -through the gate of the corral and shook hands with Grant. “Come up to -the bunk house; seems mighty good to see you.” - -“Thanks,” responded Grant, as they walked along. “Do you know, -Warfield, I have been shut up over on the other side of the range ever -since that first big snow-storm? I paddled out on snowshoes only once -during the winter, and then walked over the tops of trees. Plenty of -places up on the Sierra Madre,” continued Grant, nodding his head to -the westward, “where the snow is still twenty to thirty feet deep. -If a fellow had ever broken through, why, of course, he would have been -lost until the spring.” - -“Terrible to think about,” said Roderick. - -“Oh, that’s not all,” said Grant with his old exuberant laugh. -“It would have been so devilish long from a fellow’s passing until -his obituary came to be written. That is what gets on my nerves when -I’m out on snowshoes. Of course the columns of the Doublejack are -always open to write-ups on dead unfortunates, but it likes to have -‘em as near as possible to the actual date of demise. Then it’s live -news.” - -“Sounds rather grewsome,” said Roderick, smiling at Grant’s oddity -of expression. - -Arriving at the bunk house, they were soon seated around a big stove -where a brisk fire was burning, for the air without was still sharp and -the wind cutting and cold. - -“I can offer you a pipe and some mighty fine tobacco,” said -Roderick, pushing a tray toward him carrying a jar of tobacco and -half-a-dozen cob pipes. - -“Smells good,” commented Grant, as he accepted and began to fill one -of the pipes. - -“Well, tell me something about yourself, Grant. I supposed the -attraction over here at the ranch was quite enough to make you brave -snowstorms and snow-slides and thirty-foot snowdrifts.” - -“Warfield,” said Grant, half seriously, between puffs at his -pipe, “that is what I want to talk with you about. The inducement is -sufficient for all you suggest. She is a wonder. Without any question, -Dorothy Shields is the sweetest girl that ever lived.” - -“Hold on,” smiled Roderick. “There may be others in the different -parts of the world.” - -“Is that so?” ejaculated Grant with a rising inflection, while his -countenance suggested an interrogation point. - -“No, I have no confessions to make,” rejoined Roderick, as he struck -a match to light his pipe. - -“Well, that’s just what is troubling me,” said Grant, still -serious. “I was just wondering if anyone else had been browsing on my -range over here at the Shields ranch while I have been penned up like -a groundhog, getting out my weekly edition of the Dillon Doublejock, -sometimes only fifty papers at an issue. Think of it!” And they both -laughed at the ludicrous meagerness of such a circulation. - -“But never mind,” continued Grant, reflectively, “I will run my -subscriptions up to three or four hundred in sixty days when the snow is -off the ground.” - -“Yes, that is all very well, old man. But when will the snow be off? I -am considerably interested myself, for I want to do some prospecting.” - -“Hang your prospecting,” said Grant, “or when the snow will go -either. You haven’t answered my question.” - -“Oh, as to whether anyone has been browsing on your range?” -exclaimed Roderick. “I must confess I do not know. They have had -dances and parties and all that sort of thing but—I really don’t -know, I have not felt in the mood and declined to attend. How do you -find the little queen of your heart? Has she forgotten you?” - -“No-o,” responded Grant, slowly. “But dam it all, I can’t talk -very well before the whole family. I am an out-door man. You give me the -hills as a background and those millions of wild flowers that color our -valleys along in July like Joseph’s coat, and it makes me bubble over -with poetry and I can talk to beat a phonograph monologist.” This was -said in a jovial, joking tone, but beneath it all Roderick knew there -was much serious truth. - -“How is it, Grant? Are you pretty badly hit?” - -“Right square between the eyes, old man. Why, do you know, sitting -over in that rocky gorge of Dillon canyon in the little town of Dillon, -writing editorials for the Double jack month after month and no one to -read my paper, I have had time to think it all over, and I have made up -my mind to come here to the Shields ranch and tell Dorothy it is my firm -conviction that she is the greatest woman on top of the earth, and -that life to me without her is simply—well, I don’t have words to -describe the pitiful loneliness of it all without her.” - -Roderick leaned back in his chair and laughed hilariously at his friend. - -“This is no joking matter,” said Grant. “I’m a goner.” - -Just then there came a knock at the door and Roderick hastily arose to -bid welcome to the caller. To the surprise of both the visitor proved to -be Major Buell Hampton. - -Major Hampton exchanged cordial greetings and expressed his great -pleasure at finding his two young friends together. Accepting the -invitation to be seated, he drew his meerschaum from his pocket and -proceeded to fill from a tobacco pouch made of deer skin. - -“My dear Mr. Jones and’ Mr. Warfield,” he began, “where have you -been all through the winter?” - -“For myself, right here doing chores about twelve hours per day,” -answered Roderick. - -“As for me,” said Grant, “I have been way over ‘yonder’ -editing the Dillon Doublejack. I have fully a score of subscribers who -would have been heartbroken if I had missed a single issue. I snow-shoed -in to Encampment once, but your castle was locked and nobody seemed to -know where you had gone, Major.” - -Jones had again laughed good-naturedly over the limited circulation of -his paper. Major Hampton smiled, while Roderick observed that there was -nothing like living in a literary atmosphere. - -“If your circulation is small your persistence is certainly -commendable,” observed the Major, looking benignly at Jones but not -offering to explain his absence from Encampment when Jones had called. -“I have just paid my respects,” he went on, “to Mr. and Mrs. -Shields and their lovely daughters, and learned that you were also -visiting these hospitable people. My errand contemplated calling -upon Mr. Warfield as well. I almost feel I have been neglected. The -latchstring hangs on the outside of my door for Mr. War-field as well as -for you, Mr. Jones.” - -“Many thanks,” observed Roderick. - -“Your compliment is not unappreciated,” said Grant. “When do you -return to Encampment?” - -“Immediately after luncheon,” replied the Major. - -“Very well, I will go along with you,” said Grant. “I came over on -my skis.” - -“It will be a pleasure for me to extend the hospitality of the -comfortable riding sled that brought me over,” responded the Major -with Chesterfieldian politeness. “Jim Rankin is one of the safest -drivers in the country and he has a fine spirited team, while the -sledding is simply magnificent.” - -“Although the jingle of sleigh-bells always makes me homesick,” -remarked Roderick, “I’d feel mighty pleased to return with you.” - -“It will be your own fault, Mr. Warfield, if you do not accompany us. -I have just been talking to Mr. Shields, and he says you are the most -remarkable individual he has ever had on his ranch—a regular hermit -They never see you up at the house, and you have not been away from the -ranch for months, while the young ladies, Miss Barbara and Miss Dorothy, -think it perfectly horrid—to use their own expression—that you never -leave your quarters here or spend an evening with the family.” - -“Roderick,” observed Grant, “I never thought you were a stuck-up -prig before, but now I know you for what you are. But there must be an -end to such exclusiveness. Let someone else do the chores. Get ready -and come on back to Encampment with us, and we’ll have a royal evening -together at the Major’s home.” - -“Excellent idea,” responded the Major. “I have some great secrets -to impart—but I am not sure I will tell you one of them,” he added -with a good-natured smile. The others laughed at his excess of caution. - -“Very well,” said Roderick, “if Mr. Shields can spare me for a few -days I’ll accept your invitation.” - -At this moment the door was opened unceremoniously and in walked the two -Miss Shields. The men hastily arose and laid aside their pipes. - -“We are here as messengers,” said Miss Dorothy, smiling. “You, Mr. -Warfield, are to come up to the house and have dinner with us as well as -the Major and Grant.” - -“Glorious,” said Grant, smiling broadly. “Roderick, did you hear -that? She calls you Mr. Warfield and she calls me Grant. Splendid, -splendid!” - -“I know somebody that will have their ears cuffed in a moment,” -observed Miss Dorothy. - -“Again I ejaculate splendid!” said Grant in great hilarity, as if -daring her. - -“It is a mystery to me,” observed the Major, “how two such -charming young ladies can remain so unappreciated.” - -“Why, Major,” protested Barbara, “we are not unappreciated. -Everybody thinks we are just fine.” - -“Major,” observed Grant with great solemnity, “this is an -opportunity I have long wanted.” He cleared his throat, winked at -Roderick, made a sweeping glance at the young ladies and observed: “I -wanted to express my admiration, yes, I might say my affection for—” - -Dorothy’s face was growing pink. She divined Grant’s ardent feelings -although he had spoken not one word of love to her. Lightly springing to -his side, she playfully but firmly placed her hands over his mouth and -turned whatever else he had to say into incoherency. - -This ended Grant’s declaration. Even Major Buell Hampton smiled and -Roderick inquired: “Grant, what are you mumbling about?” - -Dorothy dropped her hand. - -“Oh, just trying to tell her to keep me muzzled forever,” Grant -smiled, and Dorothy’s cheeks were red with blushes. - -With this final sally all started for the big ranch house where they -found that a sumptuous meal had been prepared. - -During the repast Barbara learned of the proposed reunion of the three -friends at Encampment, and insisted that her father should give a few -days’ vacation to Mr. Warfield. The favor was quickly granted, and an -hour later Jim Rankin brought up his bob-sled and prancing team, and -to the merry sound of the sleigh-bells Major Buell Hampton and the two -young men sped away for Encampment. - -It was arranged that Roderick and Grant should have an hour or two to -themselves and then call later in the evening on the Major. - -Roderick was half irritated to find no letter at the post office from -Stella Rain. In point of fact, during the past two months, he had been -noticing longer and longer gaps in her correspondence. Sometimes he felt -his vanity touched and was inclined to be either angry or humiliated. -But at other times he just vaguely wondered whether his loved one was -drifting away from him. - - - - -CHAPTER XII—THE MAJOR’S FIND - -WHEN Grant Jones and Roderick arrived at the Major’s home that evening -they found other visitors already installed before the cheerful blaze of -the open hearth. These were Tom Sun, owner of more sheep than any -other man in the state; Boney Earnest, the blast furnace man in the big -smelting plant; and Jim Rankin, who had joined his two old cronies after -unharnessing the horses from the sleigh. - -Cordial introductions and greetings were exchanged. Although Roderick -had shaken hands before with Boney Earnest, this was their first meeting -in a social way. And it was the very first time he had encountered Tom -Sun. Therefore the fortuitous gathering of his father’s three old -friends came to him as a pleasant surprise. He was glad of the chance to -get better acquainted. - -While the company were settling themselves in chairs around the -fireplace, Jim Rankin seized the moment for a private confabulation with -Roderick. He drew the young man into a corner and addressed him in a -mysterious whisper: “By gunnies, Mr. War-field, it sure is powerful -good to have yer back agin. It’s seemed a tarnation long winter. But -you bet I’ve been keepin’ my mind on things—our big secret—you -know.” - -Roderick nodded and Rankin went on: “I’ve been prognosticatin’ -out this here way and then that way on a dozen trips after our -onderstandin’, searchin’ like fur that business; but dang my buttons -it’s pesterin’ hard to locate and don’t you forgit it. Excuse us, -gentlemen, we are talkin’ about certain private matters but we don’t -mean ter be impolite. I’m ‘lowin’ it’s the biggest secret in -these diggin’s—ain’t that right, Roderick?” - -Rankin laughed good-humoredly at his own remarks as he took out his -tobacco pouch of fine cut and stowed away a huge cud. “You bet yer -life,” he continued between vigorous chews, “somebody is nachurlly -going to be a heap flustrated ‘round here one of these days, leastways -that’s what we’re assoomin’.” - -“Say, Jim,” observed Tom Sun, “what are you talkin’ about -anyway? Boney, I think Jim is just as crazy as ever.” - -“I reckon that’s no lie,” responded Boney, good-naturedly. -“Always was as crazy as a March hare with a bone in its throat.” - -“Say, look here you fellows, yer gittin’ tumultuous,” exclaimed -Rankin, “you’re interferin’. Say, Major Hampton, I’m not a -dangnation bit peevish or nuthin’ like that, but do you know who are -the four biggest and most ponderous liars in the state of Wyoming?” -The Major looked up in surprise but did not reply. “Waal,” said -Rankin, expectorating toward the burning logs in the open hearth and -proceeding to answer his own question, “Boney Earnest is sure one -uv ‘em, I am one uv ‘em, and Tom Sun is ‘tother two.” Rankin -guffawed loudly. This brought forth quite an expression of merriment -The only reply from Tom Sun was that his thirty odd years of association -with Jim Rankin and Boney Earnest was quite enough to make a prince of -liars of anyone. - -Presently the Major said: “Gentlemen, after taking a strict inventory -I find there are six men in the world for whom I entertain an especial -interest. Of course, my mission in life in a general way is in behalf -of humanity, but there are six who have come to be closer to me than all -the rest Five of them are before me. Of the other I will not speak at -this time. I invited you here this evening because you represent in a -large measure the things that I stand for. The snow will soon be going, -spring is approaching and great things will happen during the next -year—far greater than you dream of. You are friends of mine and I -have decided under certain restrictions to share with you an important -secret.” - -Thereupon he pointed to some little sacks, until now unnoticed, that lay -on the center table. “Untie these sacks and empty the contents onto -the table if you will, Mr. Warfield.” Roderick complied. - -Each sack held about a hatful of broken rock, and to the amazement of -the Major’s guests Roderick emptied out on the table the richest gold -ores that any of them had ever beheld. They were porphyry and white -quartz, shot full of pure gold and stringers of gold. Indeed the pieces -of quartz were seemingly held together with purest wire gold. - -The natural query that was in the heart of everyone was soon given voice -by Jim Rankin. After scanning the remarkable exhibit he turned to Major -Buell Hampton and exclaimed: “Gosh ‘lmighty, Major, where did this -here come from?” - -“A most natural question but one which I am not inclined to answer at -this time,” said the Major, smiling benignly. “Gentlemen, it is my -intention that everyone present shall share with me in a substantial way -in the remarkable discovery, the evidence of which is lying before you. -There are five of you and I enjoin upon each the most solemn pledge of -secrecy, even as regards the little you have yet learned of the great -secret which I possess.” - -They all gave their pledges, and the Major went on: “There is enough -of these remarkably rich ores for everyone. But should the slightest -evidence come to me that anyone of you gentlemen has been so -thoughtless, or held the pledge you have just made so lightly, that you -have shared with any outsider the information so far given, his name -will assuredly be eliminated from this pact. Therefore, it is not only -a question of honor but a question of self-interest, and I feel sure the -former carries with it more potency with each of you than the latter.” - -In the meantime Roderick was closely examining the samples of gold. -Instinctively he had put his hand to the inside pocket of his coat and -felt for his father’s map. He was wondering whether Buell Hampton had -come into possession of the identical piece of knowledge he himself was -searching for. Presently Jim Rankin whispered in his ear: “By gunnies, -Warfield, I guess the Major has beat us to it.” - -But Roderick shook his head reassuringly. He remembered that his -father’s find was placer gold—water-worn nuggets taken from a -sandbar in some old channel, as the sample in Jim Rankin’s own -possession showed. The ores he was now holding were of quite a different -class—they had been broken from the living rock. - -After the specimens had been returned to the sample sacks and the -excitement had quieted a little, Major Hampton threw his head back in -his own princely way, as he sat in his easy chair before the fire and -observed: “Money may be a blessing or it may be a curse. Personally I -shall regret the discovery if a single dollar of this wealth, which it -is in my power to bring to the light of day, should ever bring sorrow to -humanity. It is my opinion that the richest man in the world should not -possess more than a quarter of a million dollars at most, and even that -amount is liable to make a very poor citizen out of an otherwise -good man. Unnecessary wealth merely stimulates to abnormal or wicked -extravagance. It is also self-evident that a more equal distribution of -wealth would obtain if millionaires were unknown, and greater happiness -would naturally follow.” - -“Yes, but the world requires ‘spenders’ as well as -getters,’”laughed Tom Sun. “Otherwise we would all be dying -of sheer weariness of each other.” - -“Surely, there are arguments on both sides,” assented the Major. -“It is a difficult problem. I was merely contending that a community -of comparatively poor people who earn their bread by the sweat of -their brow—tilling the soil and possessed of high ideals of good -citizenship—such people beyond question afford the greatest example of -contentment, morality and happiness. Great wealth is the cause of some -of our worst types of degeneracy. However,” he concluded, knocking the -ashes from his pipe, “it is not my purpose this evening to sermonize. -Nor do I intend at present to say anything more about the rich gold -discovery I have made except to reiterate my assurance that at the -proper time all you gentlemen will be called on to share in the -enterprise and in its profits. Now I believe some of you”—and he -looked at Jim Rankin, Tom Sun and Boney Earnest as he spoke—“have -another engagement tonight. It was only at my special request, Mr. -Warfield, that they remained to meet you and Mr. Jones.” - -“And we’re much obliged to you, Major,” said Boney Earnest, -arising and glancing at his watch. “Hope old John Warfield’s boy and -I will get still better acquainted. But I’ve got to be going now. You -see my wife insisted that I bring the folks back early so that she might -have a visit with Mr. Rankin and Mr. Sun.” - -Tom Sun shook hands cordially. - -“Glad to have met you, Mr. Warfield,” he said, “for your -father’s sake as well as your own. I trust we’ll meet often. -Good-night, Mr. Jones.” - -Rankin whispered something to Roderick, but Roderick did not catch the -words, and when he attempted to inquire the old fellow merely nodded -his head and said aloud: “You bet your life; I’m assoomin’ this is -jist ‘tween me and you.” Roderick smiled at this oddity, as the man -of mystery followed his friends from the room. - -When the door closed and Roderick and Grant were alone with the -Major, pipes were again lighted, and a spell of silence fell upon the -group—the enjoyable silence of quiet companionship. The Major showed -no disposition to re-open the subject of the rich gold discovery, nor -did Roderick feel inclined to press for further information. As he -mused, however, he became more firmly convinced than before that his -secret was still his own—that Buell Hampton, in this rugged mountain -region with its many undiscovered storehouses of wealth, had tumbled on -a different gold-bearing spot to that located by Uncle Allen Miller and -his father. Some day, perhaps, he would show the Major the letter and -the map. But to do this now might seem like begging the favor of further -confidences, so until these were volunteered Roderick must pursue his -own lonesome trail. The mere sight of the gold, however, had quickened -his pulse beats. To resume the humdrum life at the ranch seemed -intolerable. He longed to be out on the hills with his favorite pony -Badger, searching every nook and corner for the hidden treasure. - -Presently Buell Hampton arose and laid his pipe aside, and going to a -curtained corner of the room returned with his violin. And long into -the night, with only a fitful light from the burning logs in the -open fireplace, the Major played for his young friends. It seemed his -repertoire was without beginning and without end. As he played his moods -underwent many changes. Now he was gay and happy, at another moment -sad and wistful. He passed from sweet low measures into wild, thrilling -abandonment. Now he was drawing divine harmony from the strings by -dainty caresses, again he was almost brutally compelling them to render -forth the fierce passion of music that was surging in his own soul. The -performance held the listeners spellbound—left them for the moment -speechless when at last the player dropped into a chair. The instrument -was laid across his knees; he was still fondling it with gentle touches -and taps from his long slender fingers. - -“You love your violin, Major,” Roderick at last managed to -articulate. - -“Yes,” came the low-spoken fervent reply, “every crease, crevice -and string of the dear old Cremona that was given me more than half a -century ago.” - -“I wish,” said Grant, “that I could express my appreciation of the -wonderful entertainment you have given us tonight.” - -“You are very complimentary,” replied the Major, bestirring himself. -He rose, laid the violin on the table, and brightened up the fire with -additional fuel. - -“But I’m afraid we must be going,” added Grant. “It is getting -late.” - -“Well, I have a message for you young gentlemen,” said the Major. -“You are invited to attend one of the most distinguished soirees ever -given in the Platte River Valley. Mr. and Mrs. Shields mentioned this -today, and made me the special messenger to extend the invitation to you -both.” - -“Splendid,” exclaimed Grant. “When does this come off?” - -“Two weeks from this evening,” replied the Major. “And we will -have a comparative newcomer to the valley to grace the occasion. She -has been here through the late fall and winter, but has been too busy -nursing her sick and bereaved old father to go out into society.” - -“General Holden’s daughter?” queried Grant. - -“The same. And Gail Holden is certainly a most beautiful young lady. -Have you seen her, Mr. War-field?” - -“Not that I’m aware of,” replied Roderick. - -“A most noble young woman, too,” continued the Major. “They are -Illinois people. The mother died last year under sad circumstances—all -the family fortune swept away. But the girl chanced to own these Wyoming -acres in her own right, so she brought her father here, and has started -a little cattle ranch, going in for pedigreed dairy stock and likely to -do well too, make no mistake. You should just see her swing a lariat,” -the speaker added with a ring of admiration in his tone. - -Roderick started. Great Scott! could this be the fair horsewoman he had -encountered on the mountain side just before the coming of the big snow. -But a vigorous slap on his shoulder administered by Grant broke him from -reverie. - -“Why don’t you say something, old fellow? Isn’t this glorious -news? Are you not delighted at the opportunity of tripping the light -fantastic toe with a beauty from Illinois as well as our own home-grown -Wyoming belles?” - -“Well,” replied Roderick slowly, “I have not been attending any of -these affairs, although I may do so in this instance.” - -“Miss Barbara Shields,” said the Major, “especially requested me -to tell you, Mr. Warfield, that she positively insists on your being -present.” - -“Ho, ho!” laughed Grant. “So you’ve made a hit in that quarter, -eh, Roderick? Well, better a prospective brother-in-law than a dangerous -rival. Dorothy’s mine, and don’t you forget it.” - -Grant’s boyish hilarity was contagious, his gay audacity amusing. -Even the Major laughed heartily. But Roderick was blushing furiously. A -moment before he had been thinking of one fair charmer. And now here was -another being thrown at him, so to speak, although in jest and not in -earnest. Barbara Shields—he had never dared to think of her as within -his reach even had not loyalty bound his affections elsewhere. But the -complications seemed certainly to be thickening. - -“Come along, old chap,” said Grant, as they gained the roadway. -“We’ll have a look through the town, just to see if there’s any -news about.” - -THE Bazaar was a popular resort. The proprietor was known as -“Southpaw.” Doubtless he had another name but it was not known -in the mining camp. Even his bank account was carried in the name of -“Southpaw.” - -When Roderick and Grant entered the saloon they found a motley crowd -at the bar and in the gaming room, fully twenty cowboys with their -broad-rimmed sombreros, wearing hairy chaps, decorated with fancy belts -and red handkerchiefs carelessly tied about their necks. Evidently one -of them had just won at the wheel and they were celebrating. - -The brilliant lights and the commingling of half a hundred miners and -many cowboys presented a spectacular appearance that was both novel -and interesting. Just behind them came shuffling into the room a short, -stout, heavily-built man with a scowling face covered with a short -growth of black whiskers. His eyes were small and squinty, his forehead -low and his chin protruding. - -Roderick and Grant were standing at the end of the bar, waiting for -lemonades they had ordered. Roderick’s attention was attracted by the -uncouth newcomer. - -“Grant, who is that gorilla-looking chap?” he asked. - -Grant half turned with a sweeping glance and then looking back at -Roderick, replied: “That is Bud Bledsoe. He is a sort of sleuth for -Grady, the manager of the smelting plant, the man I introduced you to, -remember, the first day you came to Encampment.” - -“I remember Grady all right,” nodded Roderick. - -“Well, many people believe he keeps Bledsoe around him to do his dirty -work. A while ago there was a grave suspicion that this chap committed -a terrible crime, doubtless inspired by Grady, but it is not known -positively and of course Grady is all-powerful and nothing was said -about it outright.” - -In the meantime Bud Bledsoe walked into the back part of the room, and -finding a vacant seat at a gaming table bought a stack of chips and -was soon busy over his cards. Presently the two friends, having lighted -fresh cigars, left the saloon. - -Grant looked into two or three other places, but finding there was -“nothing doing,” no news of any kind stirring, at last turned for -home. Entering the familiar old bachelor shack, Roderick too felt at -home, and it was not long before a cheerful fire was kindled and going. -Grant was leaning an elbow on the mantel above and talking to Roderick -of the pleasure he anticipated at the coming dance over at the Shields -place. - -“I wonder what Miss Barbara meant when she sent that special message -to you, Roderick? Have you a ground wire of some kind with the young -lady and are you on more intimate relations than I have been led to -believe?” - -Grant smiled broadly at Roderick as he asked the question. - -“Search me,” replied Roderick. “I have never spoken to her -excepting in the presence of other people.” - -“I presume you know,” Grant went on, “that she is the object of -Carlisle’s affections and he gets awfully jealous if anyone pays court -to her?” - -“And who’s Carlisle?” asked Roderick, looking up quickly. - -“Oh, he is the great lawyer,” replied Grant “W. Henry Carlisle. -Have you never heard of the feud between Carlisle and Attorney -Bragdon?” - -“No,” said Roderick. “Both names are new to me.” - -“Oh, I supposed everybody knew about their forensic battles. You see, -W. Henry Carlisle is the attorney for the Smelter and Ben Bragdon is -without doubt the most eloquent young lawyer that ever stood before a -jury in southern Wyoming. These two fellows are usually against each -other in all big lawsuits in these parts of the country, and you should -see the courthouse fill up when there is a jury trial.” - -Roderick did not seem especially interested, and throwing his cigar -stub into the open fire, he filled his pipe. “Now, I’ll have a real -smoke,” he observed as he pressed a glowing firestick from the hearth -down on the tobacco. - -“Grady and Carlisle are together in all financial ventures,” Grant -continued. - -“Don’t look as if you are very fond of this man Grady,” commented -Roderick. - -“Fond of him?” ejaculated Grant in disgust; “he is the most -obnoxious creature in the district. He treats everybody who is working -for him as if they were dogs. He has this bruiser, Bud Bledsoe, as a -sort of bodyguard and this W. Henry Carlisle as a legal protector, so he -attempts to walk rough shod over everybody—indifferent and insolent. -Oh, let’s not talk about Grady. I become indecently indignant whenever -I think of his outrages against some of the poor fellows in this -camp.” - -“All right,” said Roderick, jovially looking up; “let us talk -about the dance and especially Miss Dorothy.” - -“That’s the text,” said Grant, “Dorothy—Dorothy Shields-Jones. -Won’t that make a corker of a name though? If I tell you a secret will -you promise it shall be sacred?” - -“Certainly,” replied Roderick. - -“Well,” said Grant, reddening, “while I was over there at the -Dillon Doublejack office, isolated from the world, surrounded with -mountains and snow—nothing but snow and snowbanks and high mountains -in every direction, why, I played job printer and set up some cards with -a name thereon—can’t you guess?” - -“Impossible,” said Roderick, smiling broadly. - -“Well, Mrs. Dorothy Shields-Jones,” he repeated slowly, then laughed -uproariously at the confession. - -“Let me see one of the cards,” asked Roderick. - -“Oh, no, I only kept the proof I pulled before pieing the type, and -that I have since torn up. But just wait That girl’s destiny is marked -out for her,” continued Grant, enthusiastically, “and believe me, -Warfield, I shall make her life a happy one.” - -“Hope you’ve convinced her of that, old man?” - -“Convinced her! Why I haven’t had the courage yet to say a word,” -replied Grant, somewhat shamefacedly. “I’m going to rely on you to -speak up for me when the critical moment arrives.” - -“It was rather premature, certainly, to print the lady’s -double-barreled-name visiting card,” laughed Roderick. “But there, -you know I’m with you and for you all the time.” And he extended the -hand of brotherly comradeship. - -“And about you and Barbara?” ventured Grant, tentatively. “I’ve -heard your name mentioned in connection with hers several times.” - -“Oh, forget all that rot,” responded Roderick, flushing slightly. He -had never mentioned the “college widow” to his friend, and felt that -he was sailing under false colors. “It will be a long time before I -can think of such matters,” he went on, turning toward his accustomed -stretcher. “Let’s get to bed. It has been a long day, and I for one -am tired.” - -A few minutes later lights were out. - -When they got up next morning, they found that a letter had been pushed -under the door. Warfield picked it up and read the scrawled inscription. -It was addressed to Grant. - -“Gee,” said Grant as he took the letter from Roderick, “this -town is forging ahead mighty fast. Free delivery. Who in the demnition -bowwows do you suppose could have done this?” - -Opening the envelope he spread the letter on the table, and both bent -above it to read its contents. There was just a couple of lines, in -printed characters. - -Words had been cut out of a newspaper apparently, and stuck on the white -sheet of paper. They read as follows: “Tell your friend to let Barbara -alone or his hide will be shot full of holes.” - -Grant and Roderick stood looking at each other, speechless with -amazement. Barbara was the only written word. - -“What can be the meaning of this?” inquired Roderick. - -“Beyond me,” replied Grant. “Evidently others besides myself have -come to think you are interested in Barbara Shields. Possibly the young -lady has been saying nice things about you, and somebody is jealous.” - -“Rank foolishness,” exclaimed Roderick hotly. Then he laughed, as -he added: “However, if the young lady interested me before she becomes -all the more interesting now. But let the incident drop. We shall see -what we shall see.” - -They walked up the street to a restaurant and breakfasted. - -“It might be,” remarked Grant, referring back to the strange letter, -“that Attorney Carlisle, who they say is daffy over Barbara Shields, -has had that sleuth of Grady’s, Bud Bledsoe, fix up this letter to -sort of scare you off.” - -Grant laughed good-humoredly as he said this. - -“Scare me off like hell,” said Roderick in disgust. “I am not -easily scared with anonymous letters. Only cowards write that sort of -stuff.” - -They arose from the table and turned down the street towards the -smelting plant It was necessary to keep well on the sidewalks and away -from the mud in the roadway, for the weather was turning warm and snow -was melting very fast. - -“There will be no sleighs and sleigh-bells at the Shields’ -entertainment,” observed Grant. “This snow in the lowlands will all -be gone in a day or two.” - -They paused on a street corner and noticed five logging outfits -swinging slowly down the street, then turn into the back yard of Buell -Hampton’s home and begin unloading. - -“What do you suppose Major Hampton can want with all those logs?” -asked Grant. - -“Let us make a morning call on the Major,” suggested Roderick. - -“Right you are,” assented Grant. - -The Major extended his usual hearty welcome. He had evidently been busy -at his writing table. - -“We came down,” said Grant, “to get a job cutting wood.” - -The Major looked out of the window at the great stack of logs and -smiled. “No, young gentlemen,” he said, “those logs are not for -firewood but to build an addition to my humble home. You see, I have -a small kitchen curtained off in the rear, and back of that I intend -putting in an extra room. I expect to have ample use for this additional -accommodation, but just at this time perhaps will not explain its -purposes. Won’t you be seated?” - -They pulled up chairs before the fire, which was smouldering low, for in -the moderated condition of the weather a larger fire was not needed. - -“Only for a moment, Major. We do not wish to take you from your work, -whatever it may be. I will confess,” Grant went on, smiling, “that -we were curious to know about the logs, and decided we would look in on -you and satisfy our curiosity; and then, too, we have the pleasure of -saying hello.” - -“Very kind of you, very kind, I am sure,” responded the Major; -and turning to Roderick he inquired when he expected to return to the -Shields ranch. - -“I am going out this afternoon,” replied Roderick. “By the way, -Major, do you expect to be at the Shields’ entertainment?” - -“No, it is hardly probable. I am very busy and then, too, I am far -past the years when such functions interest. Nevertheless, I can well -understand how two young gentlemen like yourselves will thoroughly enjoy -an entertainment given by such hospitable people as the Shields.” - -Soon after they took their leave and walked up the street. Grant made -arrangements to start directly after luncheon for Dillon, where copy had -to be got ready for the next issue of his paper. - -As Roderick rode slowly across the valley that afternoon, his mind dwelt -on the rich gold discovery made by Buell Hampton, and he evolved plans -for getting promptly to serious prospecting work on his own account. -Sometimes too he caught himself thinking of the strange girl of the -hills who could throw a lasso so cleanly and cleverly; he wondered if -their paths would ever cross again. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV.—THE EVENING PARTY - -THE night of the big fiesta at the Shields ranch had arrived, and the -invited guests had gathered from far and near. And what a bevy of pretty -girls and gay young fellows they were! Even the cowboys on this occasion -were faultless Beau Brummels; chaps, belts, and other frontier regalia -were laid aside in favor of the starched shirtfront and dress clothes -of the fashionable East. The entertainment was to consist of dancing and -song, with a sumptuous supper about the midnight hour. - -Roderick of course was there—“by command” of the fair daughter of -the house, Barbara Shields. At the entrance to the reception hall the -twin sisters gave him cordial welcome, and gaily rallied him on having -at last emerged from his anchorite cell. On passing into the crowded -room, young Warfield had one of the greatest surprises of his life. - -“Hello, Roderick, old scout, how are you anyway?” - -Someone had slapped him on the shoulder, and on turning round he found -himself face to face with Whitley Adams. - -“Whitley, old man!” he gasped in sheer astonishment. - -Then followed hand-shaking such as only two old college chums can engage -in after a long separation. - -“How did it all happen?” inquired Roderick, when the first flush of -meeting was over. - -“Tell you later,” said Whitley. “Gee, old man, I ought to beat you -up for not letting me know all this time where you were.” - -“Well, I have been so confoundedly busy,” was the half-apologetic -reply. - -“And so have I myself. I am taking a post-graduate course just now in -being busy. You would never guess what a man of affairs I’ve come to -be.” - -“You certainly surprise me,” laughed Roderick drily. - -“Oh, but I’m going to take your breath away. Since you’ve gone, -I’ve become quite chummy with your Uncle Allen.” - -“You don’t say?” - -“Yes, siree. I think he took to me first of all in the hope that -through me he would get news of the lost prodigal—the son of his -adoption whose absence he is never tired of deploring.” - -“Poor old uncle,” murmured Roderick, affectionately and regretfully. - -“Oh, he takes all the blame to himself for having driven you away from -home. But here—let’s get into this quiet corner, man. You haven’t -yet heard half my news.” - -The two chums were soon installed on a seat conveniently masked—for -other purposes, no doubt—by pot plants and flowers. - -“And how’s dear Aunt Lois?” asked Roderick, as they settled -themselves. - -“Oh, dear Aunt Lois can wait,” replied Whitley. - -“She’s all right—don’t look a day older since I remember her. It -is I who am the topic of importance—I”—and he tapped his chest in -the fervency of his egoism. - -“Well, fire away,” laughed Roderick. - -Whitley rambled on: “Well, I was just going to tell you how your uncle -and I have been pulling along together fine. After stopping me in the -street two or three times to ask me whether I had yet got news of you, -he ended in offering me a position in the bank.” - -“Gee whizz!” - -“Oh, don’t look so demed superior. Why, man alive. I’m a born -banker—a born man of affairs! So at least your uncle tells me in the -intervals of asking after you.” - -“Yes, you’ve certainly taken my breath away. But how come you to be -in Encampment, Whitley?” - -“On business, of course—important business, you bet, or I wouldn’t -have been spared from the office. Oh, I’ll tell you—you’re a -member of the firm, or will be some day, which is all the same thing. -There’s a fellow here, W. B. Grady, wanting a big loan on some smelter -bonds.” - -“I know the man. But I thought he was rolling in money.” - -“Oh, it’s just the fellows who are rolling in money who need ready -money worst,” smiled the embryonic banker with a shrewd twinkle in his -eyes. “He’s a big speculator on the outside, make no mistake, even -though he may be a staid and stolid business man here. Well, he needs -hard cash just at present, and the proposed loan came the way of our -bank. Your uncle jumped at it.” - -“Security must be pretty good,” laughed Roderick. - -“No doubt. But there’s another reason this time for your uncle’s -financial alacrity. Seems an old friend of his was swindled out of the -identical block of bonds offered by this same Grady, and your uncle -sees a possible chance some day of getting them out of his clutches and -restoring them to where they properly belong.” - -“But all that’s contrary to one of Uncle Allen’s most cherished -principles—that friendship and business don’t mix. I’ve heard him -utter that formula a score of times.” - -“Well, cherished principles or no cherished principles, he seems -downright determined this time to let friendship play a hand. He tells -me—oh, I’m quite in his confidence, you see—that it’s a matter -of personal pride for him to try and win back his fortune for this old -friend, General Holden—that’s the name.” - -“Holden?—Holden?” murmured Roderick. He seemed to have heard the -name before, but could not for the moment locate its owner. - -“Yes, General Holden. He’s ranching up here for the present—or -rather his daughter is. They say she’s a stunning girl, and my lawyer -friend Ben Bragdon has promised to introduce me. Oh, though I’m a man -of affairs, old chap, I’ve an eye for a pretty girl too, all the -time. And I’m told she’s a top-notcher in the beauty line, this Gail -Holden.” - -“Gail Holden!” Roderick repeated the name out loud, as he started -erect in his seat. He knew who the father was now—the daughter was no -other than the mysterious rider of the range. - -Whitley’s face wore a quizzical look. - -“Hello! you know her then, old chap?” - -“I never met her—at least I have never been introduced to her.” - -“That’s good hearing. Then we’ll start level tonight. Of course -I’ll cut you out in the long run if she proves to be just my style.” - -“Go ahead,” smiled Roderick. He had already recovered his -self-possession. “But you haven’t informed me yet how you come to -know Ben Bragdon, our cleverest young lawyer here, I’ve been told, and -likely enough to get the Republican nomination for state senator.” - -“Oh, simple enough. I’ve come up to investigate one technical point -in regard to those smelter bonds. Well, Ben Bragdon, your political big -gun, happens to be your uncle’s legal adviser in Wyoming.” - -“Which reminds me,” interposed Roderick earnestly, “that you are -not to give away my whereabout, Whitley—just yet.” - -“A bit rough on the old uncle not to tell him where you are—or at -least let him know that you are safe and well. He loves you dearly, Rod, -my boy.” - -“And I love him—yes, I’ll admit it, I love him dearly, and Aunt -Lois too. But this is a matter of personal pride, Whitley. You spoke a -moment ago of Uncle Allen’s personal pride. Well, I’ve got mine too, -and that day of my last visit to Keokuk, when he told me that not one -dollar of his fortune would ever be mine unless I agreed to certain -abominable conditions he chose to lay down, I on my side resolved that -I would show him I could win a fortune from the world by my own unaided -efforts. And that’s what I’m going to do, Whitley; make no mistake. -I don’t want him to butt in and interfere in any way. I am going to -play this game absolutely alone, and luckily my name gives no clue to -the lawyer Ben Bragdon or anyone else here of my relationship with the -rich banker of Keokuk, Allen Miller.” - -“Of course, Rod, whatever you say goes. But all the same there can be -no harm in my relieving your uncle’s mind by at least telling him that -I’ve heard from you—that you are in good health, and all that sort -of thing. But you bet I won’t let out where you are or what you are -doing. Oh, I’ll go up in the old chap’s estimation by holding on -tight to such a secret. To be absolutely immovable when it would be -a breach of confidence to be otherwise is part of a successful young -banker’s moral make-up, you understand.” - -Roderick laughed, his obduracy broken down by the other’s gay -insistence. - -“All right, old fellow, we’ll let it go at that But as to my being -in Wyoming, remember dead secrecy’s the word. Shake hands on that; my -faith in such a talented and discreet young banker is implicit. But now -we must join the others or they’ll be thinking us rather rude.” - -“That—or the dear girls may be fretting out their hearts on my -account. A rich young banker from Iowa doesn’t blow into Encampment -every day, you know.” And Whitley Adams laughed with all the buoyant -pride of youth, good looks, good health, and good spirits. “Come -along, dear boy,” he went on, linking his hand in Roderick’s arm. -“We’ll find Lawyer Bragdon, get our introductions, and start fair -with the beauteous chatelaine of the cattle range.” - -Roderick had heard about Ben Bragdon from Grant Jones, but had not as -yet happened to meet the brilliant young attorney who was fast becoming -a political factor in the state of Wyoming. So it fell to the chance -visitor to the town, Whitley Adams, to make these two townsmen -acquainted. Bragdon shook Roderick’s hand with all the cordiality and -geniality of a born “mixer” and far-seeing politician. But Whitley -cut out all talk and unblushingly demanded that he and his friend should -be presented without further delay to General Holden’s daughter. - -They found her in company with Barbara Shields who, her duties of -receiving over, was now mingling with her guests. - -“Miss Holden, let me present you to Mr. Roderick Warfield.” The -introducer was Ben Bragdon. - -“One of papa’s favorite boys,” added Barbara kindly, “and one of -our best riders on the range.” - -“As I happen to know,” said Gail Holden; and with a frank smile -of recognition she extended her hand. “We have already met in the -hills.” - -Roderick was blushing. “Yes,” he laughed nervously. “I was stupid -enough to offer to help you with a young steer. But I didn’t know then -I was addressing such a famous horsewoman and expert with the lariat.” - -Gail Holden smiled, pleasedly but composedly. She possessed that -peculiar modesty of dignified reserve which challenges the respect of -men. - -“Oh, you would have no doubt done a great deal better than I did,” -she replied graciously. - -But Whitley Adams had administered a kick to Roderick’s heel, and was -now pushing him aside with a muttered: “You never told me you had this -flying start, you cunning dog. But it’s my turn now.” And he placed -himself before Miss Holden, and was duly presented by Bragdon. - -A moment later Whitley was engaging Gail in a sprightly conversation. -Roderick turned to Barbara, only to find her appropriated by Ben -Bragdon. And Barbara seemed mightily pleased with the young lawyer’s -attentions—she was smiling, and her eyes were sparkling, as she -listened to some anecdote he was telling. Roderick began to feel kind -of lonesome. If there was going to be anyone “shot full of holes” -because of attentions to the fair Miss Barbara, he was evidently not the -man. He had said to Grant Jones that any association of his name with -hers was “rank foolishness,” and humbly felt now the absolute -truthfulness of the remark. He began to look around for Grant—he -felt he was no ladies’ man, that he was out of his element in such a -gathering. There were many strange faces; he knew only a few of those -present. - -But his roving glance again lighted and lingered on Gail Holden. -Yes, she was beautiful, indeed, both in features and in figure. -Tall, willowy, stately, obviously an athlete, with a North of Ireland -suggestion in her dark fluffy hair and sapphire blue eyes and pink-rose -cheeks. He had seen her riding the range, a study in brown serge with a -big sombrero on her head, and he saw her now in the daintiest of evening -costumes, a deep collar of old lace around her fair rounded neck, a few -sprigs of lily of the valley in her corsage, a filigree silver buckle at -the belt that embraced her lissom form. And as he gazed on this beauty -of the hills, this splendid type of womanhood, there came back to him -in memory the wistful little face—yes, by comparison the somewhat -worn and faded face—of the “college widow” to whom his troth was -plighted, for whom he had been fighting and was fighting now the battle -of life, the prize of true love he was going to take back proudly to -Uncle Allen Miller along with the fortune he was to win with his own -brain and hands. - -“By gad, it’s more than three weeks since Stella wrote to me,” he -said to himself, angrily. Somehow he was glad to feel angry—relieved -in mind to find even a meagre pitiful excuse for the disloyal comparison -that had forced itself upon his mind. - -But at this moment the music struck up, there was a general movement, -and he found himself next to Dorothy Shields. Whitley had already sailed -away with Miss Holden. - -“Where is Grant?” asked Roderick. - -“Not yet arrived,” replied Dorothy. “He warned me that he would be -late.” - -“Then perhaps I may have the privilege of the first waltz, as his best -friend.” - -“Or for your own sake,” she laughed, as she placed her hand on his -shoulder. - -Soon they were in the mazy whirl. When the dance was ended Dorothy, -taking his arm, indicated that she wished him to meet some people -in another part of the room. After one or two introductions to young -ladies, she turned to a rather heavy set, affable-looking gentleman and -said: “Mr. Warfield, permit me to introduce you to Mr. Carlisle—Mr. -Carlisle, Mr. Warfield.” - -The men shook hands and looked into each other’s eyes. Roderick -remembered this was the attorney of the smelting plant, and Carlisle -remembered this was the young gentleman of whom the Shields sisters -had so often spoken in complimentary terms. W. Henry Carlisle was a man -perhaps forty years old. He was not only learned in the law, but one -could not talk with him long without knowing he was purposeful and -determined and in any sort of a contest worthy of his foeman’s steel. - -Later Roderick danced with Barbara, and when he had handed her over to -the next claimant on her card was again accosted by Ben Bragdon. He had -liked the young attorney from the first, and together they retired for a -cigarette in the smoking room. - -“I saw you were introduced to that fellow Carlisle,” began Bragdon. - -“Yes,” replied Roderick, smiling, for he already knew of the -professional feud between the two men. - -“Well, let me say something to you,” Bragdon continued. “You look -to me like a man that is worth while, and I take the opportunity of -telling you to let him alone. Carlisle is no good. Outside of law -business and the law courts I would not speak to him if he were the last -man on earth.” - -“Why,” said Roderick, “you are pronounced in your views to say the -least.” - -Bragdon turned to Roderick and for a moment was silent. Then he asked: -“What are you, a Republican or a Democrat?” - -“Why, I am a Republican.” - -“Shake,” said Bragdon, and they clasped hands without Roderick -hardly understanding why. “Let me tell you something else,” Bragdon -went on. “Carlisle claims to be a Republican but I believe he is -a Democrat. He don’t look like a Republican to me. He looks like a -regular secessionist Democrat and there is going to be a contest this -fall for the nomination for state senator. W B. Grady and the whole -smelting outfit are going to back this man Carlisle and I am going to -beat him. And say—old man—” he smiled at Roderick when he said -this and slapped him on the shoulder familiarly—“I want you on my -side.” - -“Well,” said Roderick, half embarrassed and hesitatingly, “I guess -I am getting into politics pretty lively among other things. I don’t -see at this moment why I should not be on your side.” - -“Well, come and see me at my office over at Encampment and we will -talk this matter over.” And so it was agreed. - -Just then they heard singing, so they threw their cigarettes away and -went back to the ballroom. A quartet of voices accompanied on the piano -by Gail Holden were giving a selection from the Bohemian Girl. Whitley -Adams was hovering near Miss Holden, and insisted on turning the music -At the close of the number Whitley requested that Mr. Warfield should -sing. Everyone joined in the invitation; it was a surprise to his -western friends that he was musical. Reluctantly Roderick complied, -and proving himself possessed of a splendid baritone voice, delighted -everyone by singing “Forgotten” and one or two other old-time -melodies. Among many others, Dorothy, Barbara, and Grant Jones, who had -now put in an appearance, overwhelmed him with congratulations. Gail -Holden, too, who had been his accompanist, quietly but none the less -warmly, complimented him. - -Then Gail herself was prevailed upon to sing. As she resumed her seat at -the piano, she glanced at Roderick. - -“Do you know ‘The Rosary’.” she asked in a low voice unheard by -the others. - -“One of my favorites,” he answered. - -“Then will you help me with a second?” she added, as she spread open -the sheet of music. - -“I’ll be honored,” he responded, taking his place by her side. - -Her rich contralto voice swelled forth like the sweeping fullness of a -distant church organ, and Roderick softly and sweetly blended his tones -with hers. Under the player’s magic touch the piano with its deep -resonant chords added to the perfect harmony of the two voices. The -interpretation was wonderful; the listeners were spellbound, and there -followed an interval of tense stillness after the last whispered notes -had died away. - -As Gail rose and stood before him, she looked into Roderick’s eyes. -Her cheeks were flushed, she was enveloped in the mystery of song, -carried away by music’s subtle power. Roderick too was exalted. - -“Superb,” he murmured ecstatically. - -“Thanks to you,” she replied in a low voice and with a little bow. - -Then the buzz of congratulations was all around them. During that brief -moment, even in the crowded ballroom they had been alone—soul had -spoken to soul. But now the tension was relaxed. Gail was laughing -merrily. Whitley Adams was punching Roderick in the ribs. - -“Say, old man, that’s taking another mean advantage.” - -“What do you mean?” asked Roderick, recovering his composure. - -“Singing duets like that isn’t toeing the line. The start was to be -a fair one, but you’re laps ahead already.” Whitley was looking with -comical dolefulness in the direction of Gail Holden. - -“Oh, I catch your drift,” laughed Roderick. “Well, you brought the -trouble on yourself, my boy. It was you who gave me away by declaring I -could sing.” - -“Which shows the folly of paying a false compliment,” retorted -Whitley. “However, I’m going to get another dance anyhow.” - -He made a step toward Gail, but Roderick laid a detaining hand on his -shoulder. - -“Not just yet; the next is mine.” And with audacity that amazed -himself Roderick advanced to Gail, bowed, and offered his arm. The soft -strains of a dreamy waltz had just begun. - -Without a word she accepted his invitation, and together they floated -away among the maze of dancers. - -“Well, that’s going some,” murmured Whitley, as he glanced around -in quest of consolation. Dorothy Shields appeared to be monopolized by -Grant Jones, but the two lawyers, Eragdon and Carlisle, were glowering -at each other, as if in defiance as to which should carry off Barbara. -So Whitley solved the problem by sailing in and appropriating her for -himself. He was happy, she seemed pleased, and the rivals, turning away -from each other, had the cold consolation that neither had profited by -the other’s momentary hesitation. - -After the first few rounds Roderick opened a conversation with his -partner. He felicitated her upon her playing and singing. She thanked -him and said: “Most heartily can I return the compliment.” He bowed -his acknowledgment. - -“You must come to Conchshell ranch and call on my father. He will -be glad to meet you—has been an invalid all the winter, but I’m -thankful he is better now.” - -“I’ll be honored and delighted to make his acquaintance,” replied -Roderick. - -“Then perhaps we can have some more singing together,” she went on. - -“Which will be a great pleasure to me,” he interjected fervently. - -“And to me,” she said, smiling. - -Whether listening or speaking there was something infinitely charming -about Gail Holden. When conversing her beautiful teeth reminded one of a -cupid’s mouth full of pearls. - -“It has been some time,” explained Roderick, “since I was over -your way.” - -For a moment their eyes met and she mischievously replied; - -“Oh, yes. Next time, I’ll not only sing for you, but if you wish I -will teach you how to throw the lariat.” - -“I don’t presume,” replied Roderick banteringly, “you will -guarantee what I might catch even if I turned out to be an expert?” - -“That,” Gail quickly rejoined, “rests entirely with your own -cleverness.” - -Just then it was announced from the dining room that the tables with the -evening collation were spread, and as Roderick was about to offer his -arm to Miss Holden, Barbara came hurriedly up, flushed and saying: -“Oh, Gail, here is Mr. Carlisle who wants to take you to supper. And -Mr. Warfield, you are to escort me.” She smiled triumphantly up into -his face as she took his arm. - -As they walked away together and Barbara was vivaciously talking to him, -he wondered what it all meant Everybody seemed to be playing at cross -purposes. Again he thought of the letter of warning pushed under Grant -Jones’ door and mentally speculated how it would all end. - - - - -CHAPTER XV.—BRONCHO-BUSTING - -IT WAS the morning following the big entertainment at the Shields ranch -when Roderick and two other cowboy companions began the work of breaking -some outlaw horses to the saddle. The corral where they were confined -was a quarter of a mile away from the bunk house. - -Grant Jones had remained overnight, ostensibly to pay Roderick a visit -during the succeeding day. He was still sound asleep when Roderick arose -at an early hour and started for the corral. Whitley Adams had also been -detained at the ranch house as a guest. He had invited himself to the -broncho-busting spectacle, and was waiting on the veranda for Roderick -as the latter strolled by. - -An unbroken horse may or may not be an outlaw. If he takes kindly to -the bridle and saddle and, after the first flush of scared excitement -is over with, settles down and becomes bridle-wise then he is not an -outlaw. On the other hand when put to the test if he begins to rear -up—thump down on his forefeet—buck and twist like a corkscrew and -continues jumping sideways and up and down, bucking and rearing until -possibly he falls over backward, endangering the life of his rider and -continues in this ungovernable fashion until finally he is given up -as unbreakable, why, then the horse is an outlaw. He feels that he has -conquered man, and the next attempt to break him to the saddle will be -fraught with still greater viciousness. - -Bull-dogging a wild Texas steer is nothing compared with the skill -necessary to conquer an outlaw pony. - -Nearly all cowboy riders, take to broncho-busting naturally and -good-naturedly, and they usually find an especial delight in assuring -the Easterner that they have never found anything that wears hair they -cannot ride. Of course, this is more or less of a cowboy expression and -possibly borders on vanity. However, as a class, they are not usually -inclined to boast. - -Very excellent progress had been made in the work of breaking the -bronchos to the saddle. It was along about eleven o’clock when -Roderick had just made his last mount upon what seemed to be one of the -most docile ponies in the corral. He was a three-year-old and had -been given the name of Firefly. The wranglers or helpers had no sooner -loosened the blindfold than Roderick realized he was on the hurricane -deck of a pony that would probably give him trouble. When Firefly felt -the weight of Roderick upon his back, apparently he was stunned to such -an extent that he was filled with indecision as to what he should do and -began trembling and settling as if he might go to his knees. Roderick -touched his flank with a sharp spur and then, with all the suddenness -of a flash of lightning from a clear sky, rider and horse became the -agitated center of a whirling cloud of dust. The horse seemingly would -stop just long enough in his corkscrew whirls to jump high in the air -and light on his forefeet with his head nearly on the ground and then -with instantaneous quickness rear almost upright Whitley Adams was -terribly scared at the scene. The struggle lasted perhaps a couple of -minutes, and then Roderick was whirled over the head of the pony and -with a shrill neigh Firefly dashed across the corral and leaping broke -through a six foot fence and galloped away over the open prairie. The -two wranglers and Whitley hastened to Roderick’s side. He had been -stunned but only temporarily and not seriously injured, as it proved. - -“Oh, that’s all right,” he said presently as he rubbed his eyes. - -“Are you hurt?” Whitley inquired. Roderick slowly rose to his feet -with Whitley’s assistance and stretching himself looked about as if a -bit dazed. “No, no,” he replied, “I am not hurt but that infernal -horse has my riding saddle.” - -“You had better learn to ride a rocking horse before trying to ride -an outlaw, Warfield,” said Scotty Meisch, one of the new cowpunchers, -sneeringly. - -Roderick whirled on him. “I’ll take you on for a contest most any -day, if you think you are so good and I am so poor as all that,” he -said. “Come on, what do you say?” - -“Well, I ride in the Frontier Day’s celebration that comes on in -July at our local fair,” the cowboy said. “Guess if you want to ride -in a real contest with me you’d better enter your name and we’ll see -how long you last.” - -“Very well, I’ll just do that for once and show you a little -something about real roughriding,” said Roderick; “and Firefly will -be one of the outlaws.” - -Turning he limped off towards the bunk house with Whitley. - -Whitley was greatly relieved that Roderick, although he had wrenched -the tendons of his leg, had no broken bones. A couple of other cowboys -mounted their ponies, and with lariats started off across the prairie to -capture the outlaw and bring back the saddle. Whitley was assured that -they were breaking horses all the time and now and then the boys got -hold of an outlaw but no one was ever very seriously injured. - -Reaching the lounging room of the bunk house, they learned that Grant -was up and dressed. He had evidently gone up to the ranch house and at -that very moment was doubtless basking in the smiles of Miss Dorothy. - -The college chums, pipes alight, soon got to talking of old times. - -“By the way,” remarked Whitley between puffs, “last month I was -back at the class reunion at Galesburg and called on Stella Rain.” - -Roderick reddened and Whitley went blandly on: “Mighty fine girl—I -mean Stella. Finest college widow ever. I did not know you were the -lucky dog, though?” - -“What do you mean by my being the lucky dog?” - -“Oh, you were always smitten in that quarter—everyone knew that. -And now those tell-tale flushes on your face, together with what Stella -said, makes it all clear. Congratulations, old man,” said Whitley, -laughing good-naturedly at Roderick’s discomfiture. - -As their hands met, Roderick said: “I don’t know, old chap, whether -congratulations are in order or not. She don’t write as often as she -used to. It don’t argue very well for me.” - -“Man alive,” said Whitley, “what do you want with a college widow -or a battalion of college widows when you are among such girls as you -have out here? Great Scott, don’t you realize that these girls are the -greatest ever? Grant Jones shows his good sense; he seems to have roped -Miss Dorothy for sure. At first I thought I had your measure last night, -when you were talking to Miss Barbara Shields—for the moment I had -forgotten about Stella. Then you switched off and cut me out with the -fair singer. Say, if somebody don’t capture Miss Gail Holden—” - -He paused, puffed awhile, then resumed meditatively: “Why, old man, -down in Keokuk Gail Holden wouldn’t last a month. Someone would pick -her up in a jiffy.” - -“Provided,” said Roderick, and looked steadily at Whitley. - -“Oh, yes, of course, provided he could win her.” - -“These western girls, I judge,” said Roderick slowly—“understand -I am not speaking from experience—are pretty hard to win. There is -a freedom in the very atmosphere of the West that thrills a fellow’s -nerves and suggests the widest sort of independence. And our range girls -are pronouncedly independent, unless I have them sized up wrong. Tell -me,” he continued, “how you feel about Miss Holden?” - -“Oh,” replied Whitley, “I knew ahead that she was a stunning girl, -and after that first waltz I felt withered all in a heap. But when I saw -and heard you singing together at the piano, I realized what was bound -to come. Oh, you needn’t blush so furiously. You’ve got to forget a -certain party down at Galesburg. As for me, I’ve got to fly at humbler -game. Guess I’ll have another look around.” - -He laughed somewhat wistfully, as he rose and knocked the ashes from the -bowl of his pipe. - -Roderick had not interrupted; he was becoming accustomed to others -deciding for him his matrimonial affairs. He was musing over the -complications that seemed to be crowding into his life. - -“You see I retire from the contest,” Whitley went on, his smile -broadening, “and I hope you’ll recognize the devoted loyalty of a -friend. But now those Shields girls—one or other of them—both are -equally charming.” - -“You can’t cut Grant Jones out,” interrupted Roderick firmly. -“Remember, next to yourself, he’s my dearest friend.” - -“Oh, well, there’s Miss Barbara left. Now don’t you think I -would be quite irresistible as compared with either of those lawyer -fellows?” He drew himself up admiringly. - -“You might be liable to get your hide shot full of holes,” replied -Roderick. - -“What do you mean?” - -But Roderick did not explain his enigmatic utterance. - -“I think I’ll have a lay-down,” he said, “and rest my stiff -bones.” He got up; he said nothing to Whitley, but the bruised leg -pained him considerably. - -“All right,” replied Whitley gaily. “Then I’ll do a little -further reconnoitering up at the ranch house. So long.” - -Warfield was glad to be alone. Apart from the pain he was suffering, -he wanted to think things over. He was not blind to the truth that -Gail Holden had brought a new interest into his life. Yet he was half -saddened by the thought that almost a month had gone by without a letter -from Stella Rain. Then Whitley’s coming had brought back memories of -Uncle Allen, Aunt Lois, and the old days at Keokuk. He was feeling very -homesick—utterly tired of the rough cow-punching existence he had been -leading for over six months. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI.—THE MYSTERIOUS TOILERS OF THE NIGHT - -IN A day or two the excitement over the great evening party at the -Shields ranch had passed and the humdrum duties of everyday life had -been resumed. Whitley Adams had completed his business at Encampment and -taken his departure with the solemnly renewed promise to Roderick that -for the present the latter’s whereabouts would not be disclosed to the -good folks at Keokuk although their anxiety as to his safety and good -health would be relieved. Grant Jones had torn himself away from -his beloved to resume his eternal—and as he felt at the moment -infernal—task of getting out the next issue of his weekly newspaper. -Gail Holden had ridden off over the foothills, the Shields sisters had -returned to their domestic duties, and all the other beauties of the -ballroom had scattered far and wide like thistledown in a breeze. The -cowboys had reverted to chaps and sombreros, dress clothes had been -stowed away with moth balls to keep them company, and the language of -superlative politeness had lapsed back into the terser vernacular of the -stock corral. Roderick was pretty well alone all day in the bunk -house, nursing the stiff leg that had resulted from the broncho-busting -episode. - -Between embrocations he was doing a little figuring and stock-taking of -ways and means. During his six months on the ranch most of his salary -had been saved. The accumulated amount would enable him to clear off -one-half of his remaining indebtedness in New York and leave him a -matter of a hundred dollars for some prospecting on his own account -during the summer months among the hills. But he would stay by his -job for yet another month or two, because, although the words had been -spoken in the heat of the moment, he had pledged himself to meet the -cowboy Scotty Meisch in the riding contest at the Frontier Day’s -celebration. Yes, he would stick to that promise, he mused as he rubbed -in the liniment Gail Holden, when she had come to bid him good-by -and express her condolence over his accident, had announced her own -intention of entering for the lariat throwing competition, but he would -never have admitted to himself that the chance of meeting her again -in such circumstances, the chance of restoring his prestige as a -broncho-buster before her very eyes, had the slightest thing to do with -his resolve to delay his start in systematic quest of the lost mine. - -Meanwhile Buell Hampton seemed to have withdrawn himself from the world. -During the two weeks that had intervened between the invitation and the -dance, he had not called at the ranch. Nor did he come now during the -weeks that followed, and one evening when Grant Jones paid a visit to -the Major’s home he found the door locked. Grant surveyed with both -surprise and curiosity the addition that had been made to the building. -It was a solid structure of logs, showing neither door nor window to the -outside, and evidently was only reached through the big living room. - -He reported the matter to Roderick, but the latter, his stiff leg now -all right again, was too busy among the cattle on the ranges to bother -about other things. - -But Buell Hampton all this time had been very active indeed. During the -winter months he had thought out his plans. Somehow he had come to look -upon the hidden valley with its storehouse of golden wealth as a sacred -place not to be trespassed on by the common human drove. Just so soon as -the melting snows rendered the journey practicable, he had returned all -alone to the sequestered nook nested in the mountains. He had discovered -that quite a little herd of deer had found shelter and subsistence there -during the months of winter. As he came among them, they had shown, -themselves quite tame and fearless; three or four does had nibbled the -fresh spring grass almost at his very feet as he had sat on the porphyry -dyke, enjoying the beautiful scene, alone in his little kingdom, with -only these gentle creatures and the twittering birds for companions. - -And there and then Buell Hampton had resolved that he would not -desecrate this sanctuary of nature—that he would not bring in the -brutal eager throng of gold seekers, changing the lovely little valley -into a scene of sordid greed and ugliness, its wild flowers crushed -underfoot, its pellucid stream turned to sludge, its rightful -inhabitants, the gentle-eyed deer, butchered for riotous gluttony. -No, never! He would take the rich God-given gift of gold that was his, -gratefully and for the ulterior purpose of spreading human happiness. -But all else he would leave undisturbed. - -The gold-bearing porphyry dyke stretching across the narrow valley was -decomposed; it required no drilling nor blasting; its bulk could easily -be broken by aid of sledge hammer and crowbar. Two or three men working -steadily for two or three months could remove the entire dyke as it lay -visible between mountain rock wall and mountain rock wall, and taking -the assay value of the ore as already ascertained, from this operation -alone there was wealth for all interested beyond the dreams of avarice. -Buell Hampton debated the issues all through that afternoon of solitude -spent in the little canyon. And when he regained his home he had arrived -at a fixed resolution. He would win the treasure but he would save the -valley—he would keep it a hidden valley still. - -Next evening he had Tom Sun, Boney Earnest and Jim Rankin all assembled -in secret conclave. While the aid of Grant Jones and Roderick Warfield -would be called in later on, for the present their services would not be -required. So for the present likewise there would be nothing more said -to them—the fewer in the “know” the safer for all concerned. - -It was agreed that Tom Sun, Jim Rankin and the Major would bring out -the ore. Jim was to hire a substitute to drive his stage, while Tom Sun -would temporarily hand over the care of his flocks to his manager and -herders. Boney Earnest could not leave his work at the smelter—his -duties there were so responsible that any sudden withdrawal might have -stopped operations entirely and so caused the publicity all were anxious -to avoid. But as he did not go to the plant on Sundays, his active help -would be available each Saturday night. Thus the plans were laid. - -But although Buell Hampton had allied himself with these helpers in his -work and participants in the spoil, he yet guarded from them the -exact locality of his find. All this was strictly in accordance with -goldmining usage among the mountains of Wyoming, so the Major offered no -apology for his precautions, his associates asked for or expected none. -Each man agreed that he would go blindfolded to the spot where the rich -ore was to be broken and packed for removal. - -Thus had it come about that, while Buell Hampton seemed to have -disappeared from the world, all the while he was very busy indeed, -and great things were in progress. Actual work had commenced some days -before the dance at the Shields’ home, and it continued steadily in -the following routine. - -The Major, Tom Sun and Jim Rankin passed most of the day sleeping. At -night after dark, they would sally forth into the hills, mounted on -three horses with three pack burros. A few miles away from Encampment -the Major would blindfold his two assistants, and then they would -proceed in silence. When they arrived near Spirit Falls the horses and -burros would be tethered and Major Hampton would lead the way down the -embankment to the river’s bank, then turn to the left, while Tom Sun, -blindfolded, extended one hand on Buell Hampton’s shoulder and still -behind was Jim Rankin with his hand extended on Tom Sun’s shoulder. -Thus they would make their way to a point back of the waterfall, and -then some considerable distance into the mountain cavern where the -blindfolds were removed. With an electric torch the Major lighted the -way through the grotto into the open valley. - -A little farther on was the dyke of porphyry, quartz and gold. Here the -sacks would be filled with the rich ore—their loads all that each man -could carry. Footsteps were then retraced with the same precautions as -before. - -Placing the ore sacks on the backs of their burros, the night riders -would climb into their saddles and slowly start out on the return -journey, the Major driving the burros ahead along a mountain path, while -Tom Sun and Jim Rankin’s horses followed. After they had gone on for a -few miles Major Hampton would shout back to his assistants to remove the -blindfolds, and thus they would return to the town of Encampment in -the gray dawn of morning, unloading their burros at the door of Major -Hampton’s house. Jim Rankin would take charge of the stock and put -them in a stable and corral he had prepared down near the banks of the -Platte River just over the hill. Tom Sun would show his early training -by preparing a breakfast of ham and eggs and steaming coffee while the -Major was placing the ore in one hundred pound sacks and carrying them -back into the blockade addition he had built to his home. He would then -lock the heavy door connecting the storehouse with the living room. - -Usually the breakfast was ready by the time the Major had finished his -part of the work and Jim Rankin had returned. After the morning meal and -a smoke, these three mysterious workers of the night would lie down -to sleep, only to repeat the trip the following evening. Each Saturday -night, as has been explained, Boney Earnest was added to the party, as -well as an extra horse and burro. - -Buell Hampton estimated that each burro was bringing out one hundred -pounds nightly, or about three hundred pounds every trip for the three -burros, with an extra hundred pounds on Saturday night. If this ore -yielded $114.00 per pound, the assay value already paid him, or call it -$100.00, it meant that he was adding to his storehouse of treasure -about $220,000.00 as the result of each week’s labors. Thus in three -months’ time there would be not far short of $3,000,-000.00 worth of -high grade gold ores accumulated. If reduced to tons this would make -nearly a full carload when the time came for moving the vast wealth to -the railroad. - -One night in the midst of these operations, when Jim Rankin and Tom Sun -supposed they were on the point of starting on the usual trip into the -hidden valley, Buell Hampton filled his pipe for an extra smoke and -invited his two faithful friends to do likewise. “We are not going -tonight,” said he. “We will have a rest and hold a conference.” - -“Good,” said Jim Rankin. “Speakin’ wide open like, by gunnies, -my old bones are gettin’ to be pretty dangnation sore.” - -“Too bad about you,” said Tom Sun. “Too bad that you aren’t as -young as I am, Jim.” - -“Young, the devil,” returned Jim. “I’m prognosticatin’ I have -pints about me that’d loco you any time good and plenty. ‘Sides you -know you are seven years older than me. Gosh ‘lmighty, Tom, you an’ -me have been together ever since we struck this here country mor’n -forty years ago.” - -Tom laughed and the Major laughed. - -It was arranged that when the carload was ready Jim Rankin was to rig -up three four-horse teams and Grant Jones and Roderick Warfield would be -called on to accompany the whole outfit to Walcott, the nearest town -on the Union Pacific, where a car would be engaged in advance for the -shipment of the ore to one of the big smelters at Denver. The strictest -secrecy would be kept even then, for reasons of safety as well as to -preserve the privacy desired by Buell Hampton. So they would load up the -wagons at night and start for the railroad about three o’clock in the -morning. - -Thus as they smoked and yawned during their night of rest the three men -discussed and decided every detail of these future plans. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII—A TROUT FISHING EPISODE - -FOR a time Roderick had hung back from accepting the invitation to call -at the Conchshell ranch, as the Holden place was called. In pursuing -the acquaintanceship with Gail he knew that he was playing with fire—a -delightful game but one that might work sad havoc with his future peace -of mind. However, one day when he had an afternoon off and had ridden -into Encampment again to be disappointed in finding no letter from -Stella, he had felt just the necessary touch of irritation toward his -fiancée that spurred him on to seek some diversion from his thoughts of -being badly treated and neglected. Certainly, he would call on General -Holden—he did not say to himself that he was bent on seeing Gail -again, looking into her beautiful eyes, hearing her sing, perhaps -joining in a song. - -He was mounted on his favorite riding horse Badger, a fine bay pony, and -had followed the road up the North Fork of the Encampment River a number -of miles. Taking a turn to the left through the timbered country with -rocky crags towering on either side in loftiest grandeur, he soon -reached the beautiful plateau where Gail Holden’s home was located. -The little ranch contained some three hundred acres, and cupped inward -like a saucer, with a mountain stream traversing from the southerly to -the northerly edge, where the Conchshell canyon gashed through the rim -of the plateau and permitted the waters to escape and flow onward and -away into the North Fork. - -As Roderick approached the house, which was on a knoll planted with -splendid firs and pines, he heard Gail singing “Robert Adair.” He -dismounted and hitched his horse under the shelter of a wide spreading -oak. Just as he came up the steps to the broad porch Gail happened to -see him through one of the windows. She ceased her singing and hastened -to meet him with friendly greeting. - -“Welcome, Mr. Warfield, thrice welcome, as Papa sometimes says,” -said Gail, smiling. - -“Thank you,” said Roderick, gallantly. “I was riding in this -direction and concluded to stop in and accept your kind invitation to -meet the General.” - -“He will be delighted to see you, Mr. Warfield, I have told him about -your singing.” - -“Oh, that was making too much of my poor efforts.” - -“Not at all. You see my father is very fond of music—never played -nor sang in his life, but has always taken keen delight in hearing good -music. And I tell you he is quite a judge.” - -“Which makes me quite determined then not to sing in his presence,” -laughed Roderick. - -“Well, you can’t get out of it now you’re here. He won’t allow -it. Nor will I. You won’t refuse to sing for me, will you? Or with -me?” she added with a winning smile. - -“That would be hard indeed to refuse,” he replied, happy yet -half-reproaching himself for his very happiness. - -“Daddie is walking around the grounds somewhere at present,” -continued Gail. “Won’t you step inside and rest, Mr. Warfield? -He’ll turn up presently.” - -“Oh, this old rustic seat here on the porch looks exceedingly -comfortable. And I fancy that is your accustomed rocker,” he added, -pointing to a piece of embroidery, with silk and needles, slung over the -arm of a chair. - -“You are a regular Sherlock Holmes,” she laughed. “Well, I have -been stitching all the afternoon, and just broke off my work for a -song.” - -“I heard you. Can’t you be persuaded to continue?” - -“Not at present. We’ll wait till Papa comes. And the weather is so -delightfully warm that I will take my accustomed rocker—and the hint -implied as well.” - -Again she laughed gaily as she dropped into the commodious chair and -picked up the little square of linen with its half-completed embroidery. - -Roderick took the rustic seat and gazed admiringly over the cup-shaped -lands that spread out before him like a scroll, with their background of -lofty mountains. - -“You have a delightful view from here,” he said. - -“Yes,” replied Gail, as she threaded one of her needles with a -strand of crimson. “I know of no other half so beautiful. And it has -come to be a very haven of peace and happiness. Perhaps you know that -my father last year lost everything he possessed in the world through an -unfortunate speculation. But that was nothing—we lost my dear mother -then as well. This little ranch of Conchshell was the one thing left -that we could call our own, and here we found our refuge and our -consolation.” - -She was speaking very softly, her hands had dropped on her lap, there -was the glisten of tears in her eyes. Roderick was seeing the daring -rider of the hills, the acknowledged belle of the ballroom in yet -another light, and was lost in admiration. - -“Very sad,” he murmured, in conventional commiseration. - -“Oh, no, not sad,” she replied brightly, looking up, sunshine -showing through her tears. “Dear mother is at rest after her long -illness, father has recovered his health in this glorious mountain air, -and I have gained a serious occupation in life. Oh, I just love this -miniature cattle range,” she went on enthusiastically. “Look at -it”—she swept the landscape with an upraised hand. “Don’t all -my sweet Jerseys and Hainaults dotted over those meadows look like the -little animals in a Noah’s ark we used to play with when children?” - -“They do indeed,” concurred Roderick, with heartily responsive -enthusiasm. - -“And I’m going to make this dairy stock business pay to beat the -band,” she added, her face fairly aglow. “Just give me another year -or two.” - -“You certainly deserve success,” affirmed Roderick, emphatically. - -“Oh, I don’t know. But I do try so hard.” - -Her beautiful face had sweet wistfulness in it now. Roderick was -admiring its swift expressive changes—he was saying to himself that he -could read the soul of this splendidly frank young woman like a book. He -felt thrilled and exalted. - -“But here comes Papa,” exclaimed Gail, springing delightedly to her -feet - -Roderick’s spirits dropped like a plummet. At such an interesting -psychological moment he could have wished the old General far enough. - -But there was a pleasant smile on his face as Gail presented him, -genuine admiration in the responsive pressure of his hand as he gazed -into the veteran’s handsome countenance and thanked him for his -cordial welcome. - -“Glad to meet you, Mr. Warfield,” General Holden was saying. “My -friend Shields has spoken mighty well of you, and Gail here says you -have the finest baritone voice in all Wyoming.” - -“Oh, Daddie!” cried Gail, in blushing confusion. - -“Well, I’m going to decide for myself. Come right in. We’ll have -a song while Gail makes us a cup of tea. An old soldier’s song for a -start—she won’t be listening, so I can suit myself this time.” - -And Roderick to his bewilderment found himself clutched by the arm, and -being led indoors to the piano like a lamb to the slaughter. Gail -had disappeared, and he was actually warbling “Marching through -Georgia,” aided by a thunderous chorus from the General. - -“As we go marching through Georgia,” echoed Gail, when at the close -of the song she advanced from the domestic quarters with sprightly -military step, carrying high aloft a tea tray laden with dainty china -and gleaming silverware. - -All laughed heartily, and a delightful afternoon was initiated—tea and -cake, solos and duets, intervals of pleasant conversation, a Schubert -sonata by Gail, and a rendition by Roderick of the Soldiers’ Chorus -from Faust that fairly won the old General’s heart. - -The hours had sped like a dream, and it was in the sunset glow that -Roderick, having declined a pressing invitation to stay for dinner, -was bidding Gail good-by. She had stepped down from the veranda and was -standing by his horse admiring it and patting its silky coat. - -“By the way, you mentioned at the Shields’ party that you expected -to go trout fishing, Mr. Warfield. Did you have good luck?” - -Roderick confessed that as yet he had not treated himself to a day’s -sport with the finny tribe. “I was thinking about it this very -morning,” he went on, “and was wondering if I had not better secure -a companion—someone skilled with rod and reel and fly to go with me, -as I am a novice.” - -“Oh, I’ll go with you,” she exclaimed quickly. “Would be glad to -do so.” - -“That’s mighty kind of you, Miss Holden,” replied Roderick, half -hesitatingly, while a smile played about his handsome face. “But since -you put it that way I would be less than courteous if I did not eagerly -and enthusiastically accept. When shall we go?” - -“You name the day,” said Gail. - -Roderick leaned hastily forward and placing one hand on his heart said -with finely assumed gallantry: “I name the day?” - -“Oh, you know quite well I do not mean that.” - -She laughed gaily, but all the same a little blush had stolen into her -cheeks. - -“I thought it was the fair lady’s privilege to name the day,” said -Roderick, mischievously. - -“Very well,” said Gail, soberly, “we will go trout fishing -tomorrow.” - -“It is settled,” said Roderick. “What hour is your pleasure?” - -“Well, it is better,” replied Gail, “to go early in the morning or -late in the evening. Personally I prefer the morning.” - -“Very well, I will be here and saddle Fleetfoot for you, say, at seven -tomorrow morning.” - -And so it was agreed. - -It was only when he was cantering along the roadway toward home that -Roderick remembered how Barbara Shields had on several occasions invited -him to go trout fishing with her, but in some way circumstances had -always intervened to postpone the expedition. In Gail’s case, however, -every obstacle seemed to have been swept aside—he had never even -thought of asking Mr. Shields for the morning off. However, that would -be easily arranged, so he rode on in blissful contentment and happy -anticipation for the morrow. - -The next morning at the appointed time found him at Conchshell ranch. -Before he reached the house he discovered Fleetfoot saddled and bridled -standing at the gate. - -Gail came down the walk as he approached and a cheery good-morning was -followed by their at once mounting their horses and following a roadway -that led eastward to the South Fork of the Encampment River. - -“You brought your flies, Mr. Warfield?” - -“Oh, yes,” replied Roderick. “I have plenty of flies—both hackle -and coachman. These have been specially recommended to me, but as I -warned you last night I am a novice and don’t know much about them.” - -“I sometimes use the coachman,” said Gail, “although, like -yourself, I am not very well up on the entomology of fly fishing.” - -Soon the road led them away from the open valley into a heavy timber -that crowned the westerly slope of the river. They soon arrived at -their destination. Dismounting they quickly tethered their horses. -Gail unfastened her hip boots from back of her saddle, and soon her -bifurcated bloomer skirts were tucked away in the great rubber boots and -duly strapped about her slender waist. Roderick was similarly equipped -with wading boots, and after rods, lines and flies had been carefully -adjusted they turned to the river. The mountains with their lofty rocky -ledges—the swift running waters rippling and gurgling over the rocky -bed of the river—the beautiful forests that rose up on either side, of -pine and spruce and cottonwood, the occasional whistle and whirr of wild -birds—the balmy morning air filled life to overflowing for these two -disciples of Izaak Walton bent upon filling their baskets with brook and -rainbow trout. - -“The stream is sufficiently wide,” observed Gail, “so we can go -downstream together. You go well toward the west bank and I will hug the -east bank.” Roderick laughed. - -“What are you laughing at?” asked Gail. - -“Oh, I was just sorry I am not the east bank.” The exhilarating -mountain air had given him unwonted audacity. - -“You are a foolish fellow,” said Gail—“at least sometimes. -Usually I think you are awfully nice.” - -“Do you think we had better fish,” asked Roderick, whimsically, -“or talk this matter over?” - -Gail looked very demure and very determined. - -“You go right on with your fishing and do as I do, Mr. Roderick -Warfield. Remember, I’m the teacher.” She stamped her little booted -foot, and then waded into the water and cast her fly far down stream. -“See how I cast my line.” - -“You know a whole lot about fishing, don’t you?” asked Roderick. - -“Oh, yes, I ought to. During occasional summer visits to the ranch I -have fished in these waters ever so many times. You must not talk -too much,” she added in a lower voice. “Trout are very alert, you -know.” - - -“If fish could hear as well as see - -Never a fish would there be— - - -in our baskets.” And she laughed softly at this admonition for -Roderick to fish and cease badinage. - -“Which way is the wind?” asked Roderick. - -“There is none,” replied Gail. - - -“When the wind is from the North - -The skilful fisherman goes not forth,” - - -quoted Roderick. “Don’t that prove I know something about -fishing—I mean fly fishing?” - -“You have a much better way to prove your sport-manship,” insisted -Gail. “The fish are all around you and your basket is hanging empty -from your shoulder.” - -“Rebuked and chided,” exclaimed Roderick, softly. - -They continued to cast and finally Gail said: “I have a Marlow Buzz on -my hook.” - -“What is that?” inquired Roderick. - -“Oh, it is a species of the Brown Palmer fly. I like them better than -the hackle although the coachman may be equally as good. Look out!” -she suddenly exclaimed. - -Roderick turned round quickly and saw her line was taut, cutting the -water sharply to the right and to the left while her rod was bent like a -bow. She quickly loosened her reel which hummed like a song of happiness -while her line sliced the waters like a knife. - -“Guess you have a rainbow,” cried Roderick excitedly, but Gail paid -no attention to his remark. - -Presently the trout leaped from the water and fell back again, then -attempted to dart away; but the slack of line was not sufficient for the -captive to break from the hook. - -The trout finally ceased its fight, and a moment later was lifted safely -from the water and landed in Gail’s net. But even now it continued -to prove itself a veritable circus performer, giving an exhibition of -flopping, somersaulting, reversed handsprings—if a fish could do such -things—with astonishing rapidity. - -“Bravo,” shouted Roderick, as Gail finally released the hook and -deposited the fish in her basket. - -Less than a minute later Roderick with all the enthusiasm and zeal -imaginable was letting out his reel and holding his line taut, for he, -too, had been rewarded. And soon he had proudly deposited his first -catch of the day in his fish basket. - -On they went down the river, over riffles and into deep pools where -the water came well up above their knees; but, nothing daunted, these -fishermen kept going until the sun was well up in the eastern sky. At -last Gail halloed and said: “Say, Mr. Warfield, my basket is almost -full and I am getting hungry.” - -“All right,” said Roderick, “we will retrace our steps. There is a -pretty good path along the east bank.” - -“How many have you?” asked Gail. - -“Twenty-six,” replied Roderick as he scrambled up the bank. - -“I have thirty-one,” said Gail, enthusiastically. - -Roderick approached the bank, and reaching down helped her to a footing -on the well-beaten path. Then they started up-stream for their horses. - -It was almost eleven o’clock when they arrived at their point of -departure and had removed their wading boots. Gail went to her saddle -and unlashed a little luncheon basket. - -She utilized a large tree stump for a table, and after it had been -covered with a napkin and the dainty luncheon of boned chicken, sardines -and crackers had been set forth, she called to Roderick and asked him to -fill a pair of silver collapsible drinking cups which she handed to him. -He went to the brook and returned with the ice-cold mountain vintage. - -“I am just hungry enough,” said Gail, “to enjoy this luncheon -although it is not a very sumptuous repast.” - -Roderick smiled as he took a seat upon the felled tree. - -“Expect you think you will inveigle me into agreeing with you. But not -on your life. I would enjoy such a luncheon as this any time, even if I -were not hungry. But in the present circumstances—well, I will let you -pass judgment upon my appetite after we have eaten.” - -“As they say on the long army marches in the books,” said Gail, -gaily, “I guess we had better fall to.” And forthwith with much -merriment and satisfaction over their morning’s catch they proceeded -to dispose of the comestibles. - -It was only a little after noon when they reached the Conchshell ranch, -and soon thereafter Roderick’s pony was galloping along the road on -his homeward way. He had never enjoyed such a morning in all his life. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII.—A COUNTRY FAIR ON THE FRONTIER - -THERE was great excitement among the bunch of cowboys on the Shields’ -ranch when the local newspapers came out with startling headlines and -full announcements in regard to the annual frontier celebration. That -night every line of the full page advertisements, also the columns of -editorial elaborations on the contests and other events, were read aloud -to an eager assemblage of all hands in front of the bunk house. - -The Dillon Doublejack predicted that this year’s celebration would -undoubtedly afford the greatest Wild West show ever witnessed outside -of a regular circus display organized as a money-making undertaking. -Everything was going to be just the real thing—the miners’ drilling -contest, the roping competition, the bucking-broncho features, and so -on. More than a score of outlaw horses that had thrown every cow-puncher -who ever attempted to ride them had already been engaged. The Doublejack -further declared that the tournament would be both for glory and for -bags of yellow gold, with World’s Championships to the best rider, to -the best bucking broncho buster, to the best trick roper, to the -fastest cowpony, and to the most daring and lucky participant in the -bull-dogging of wild steers. - -In the columns of the Encampment Herald special attention was drawn to -the fact that in the rough riding and outlaw bucking contest for the -world’s championship there was a purse of $1,000 to be divided—$450 -for first prize, $300 second prize, $150 third prize and $100 fourth -prize, while in addition Buck Henry, the banker, offered a $200 -championship saddle to the rider who took first place. It was also -announced that the fair association would pay $50 in cash for every -horse brought to the grounds that was sufficiently unmanageable to throw -every rider; each participant to ride any horse and as often as the -judges might deem necessary to determine the winner; chaps and spurs to -be worn by the riders, and leather pulling would disqualify. - -Both papers referred to the band concerts as a feature of great interest -throughout the three days of the fair. Everything was to be decorated -in colors—red and green, black and yellow, blue and white, pink and -scarlet—from the grandstand down to the peanut boy. The race track was -fast and in excellent condition, and everything would be in readiness at -the appointed time. - -After each item of news was read out there was a buzz of comment among -the assembled cowboys, challenges were made, bets freely offered and -accepted. As the gathering dispersed Roderick Warfield and Scotty Meisch -exchanged significant glances but spoke no word—they had been as -strangers to each other ever since their fierce quarrel on the morning -of the broncho-busting exercises. Roderick was glad that the day was -near at hand when the fellow would be made to eat his words. And with -the thought also came thoughts of Gail Holden. Gee, but it would be fine -to see her ride in such a contest of nerve and skill! - -At last the eventful morning dawned and the people swarmed into -Encampment from all the surrounding country. They came from far below -Saratoga to the north. The entire Platte Valley from as far south as the -Colorado state line and beyond were on hand. In fact, from all over -the state and even beyond its confines the whole population moved in to -participate in this great frontier day celebration. A crowd came over -from Steamboat Springs and brought with them the famous outlaw horse -Steamboat, who had never been ridden although he had thrown at least a -dozen cowpunchers of highest renown. - -When the programmes were distributed, Firefly was found upon the list of -outlaw horses, and also to the surprise of many of his friends the name -of Roderick Warfield appeared as one of the contestants in both the -bull-dogging and bucking broncho events. - -It was a veritable Mecca of delight for the miners in their drilling -contests and for the cowboys in their dare-devil riding of outlaw -horses—testing their prowess and skill in conquering the seemingly -unconquerable. The lassoing of fleet-footed and angry cattle, the -bull-dogging of wild steers gathered up from different parts of the -country because of their reputation for long horns and viciousness, were -spectacles to challenge the admiration of the immense throng seated in -the grandstand and on the bleachers. - -It was just ten o’clock on the morning of the first day when the -judges sounded the gong and started the series of contests. The first -event was a cow-pony race, with no restriction as to the sex of the -riders. Ponies were to be fourteen hands two inches or under. There -were seven starters. Up in one corner of the grandstand sat Grant -Jones surrounded by a bevy of beautiful girls. Among them of course was -Dorothy Shields. All were in a flutter of excitement over the race that -was about to be run; for Gail Holden was among the contestants. - -Gail Holden, quiet, unassuming, yet full of determination, looked -a veritable queen as she sat her pony Fleetfoot clad in soft silk -shirtwaist, gray divided skirt, and gray soft felt hat. With a tremor of -delight Roderick noticed that she wore on her sleeve as her colors one -of his college arm-bands, which he had given her when calling at the -Conchshell ranch one evening after the trout fishing expedition. - -At last the bell sounded and the word “Go” was given. A shout went -up from the grandstand—“They’re off—they’re off.” And away -the seven horses dashed—-four men and three lady riders. At the moment -of starting Gail had flung her hat to the winds. She used no quirt but -held her pony free to the right and in the open. It was a half-mile -track and the race was for one mile. When they swept down past the -grandstand on the first lap Fleetfoot had gained third place. A -pandemonium of shouts went up as the friends of each madly yelled to -the riders to urge their mounts to greater speed. At the far turn it -was noticed that Fleetfoot was running almost neck and neck with the two -leaders, and then as they came up the stretch, running low, it seemed as -if the race would finish in a dead heat between all three ponies. - -Just then Gail reached down and was seen to pat her pony upon the neck -and evidently was talking to him. Fleetfoot leaned forward as if fired -with fierce determination to comply with her request for still greater -effort His muscles seemed to be retensioned. He began creeping away inch -by inch from his adversaries, and amid the plaudits and shouts of the -people in the grandstand and bleachers, who rose to their feet waving -handkerchiefs and hats in a frenzy of tumultuous approval, Gail’s -horse passed first under the wire—winner by a short head, was the -judges’ verdict. - -The second feature was a great drilling contest of the miners from the -surrounding hills. There were twelve pairs of contestants, and Grant -Jones became wild with excitement when friends of his from Dillon were -awarded the championship. - -And thus event followed event until the day’s program was completed. - -Gail and Roderick were bidding each other goodnight at the gateway of -the enclosure. - -“I owe you my very special thanks,” he said as he held her hand. - -“What for?” she enquired. - -“For wearing my old college arm-band in the pony race.” - -“Oh,” said Gail, blushing slightly, “I had to have something to -keep my sleeve from coming down too far on my wrist Besides they are -pretty colors, aren’t they?” - -But Roderick was not going to be sidetracked by any such naive -questioning. - -“I refuse pointblank,” he answered, smiling, “to accept any excuse -for your wearing the badge. I insist it was a compliment to me and shall -interpret it in no other way.” - -Her blush deepened, but she made no further protest. General Holden had -approached. She turned and took his arm. - -“Until tomorrow then,” exclaimed Roderick, raising his hat to both -father and daughter. - -“Until tomorrow,” she quietly responded. - -The morrow brought resumption of the tournament. Gail Holden was to -display her prowess in throwing the lariat, while Roderick had entered -his name in the bull-dogging event. - -In the roping contest Gail was the only lady contestant. The steers -were given a hundred feet of start, and then the ropers, swinging their -lariats, started after them in a mad gallop. - -Gail was again mounted on Fleet foot, and if anything ever looked like -attempting an impossibility it was for this slender girl with her neatly -gloved little hands, holding a lariat in the right and the reins of the -pony in her left, to endeavor to conquer and hogtie a three-year-old -steer on the run. And yet, undismayed she undertook to accomplish -this very thing. When the word was given she dashed after the fleeing -three-year-old, and then as if by magic the lariat sprang away from -her in a graceful curve and fell cleverly over the horns of the steer. -Immediately Fleetfoot set himself for the shock he well knew was coming. - -The steer’s momentum was so suddenly arrested that it was thrown to -the ground. Gail sprang from the saddle, and the trained pony as he -backed away kept the lariat taut. Thus was the steer hogtied by Gail’s -slender hands in 55 3/5 seconds from the time the word was given. - -All of the lassoers had been more or less successful, but the crowd -stood up and yelled in wildest enthusiasm, and waved their hats and -handkerchiefs, as the time for this marvelous feat by Gail was announced -from the judges’ stand. - -In the afternoon the bull-dogging contest was reached, and Grant -Jones said to those about him: “Now get ready for some thrills and -breathless moments.” - -When the word was given a wild long-horned steer came rushing down past -the grandstand closely followed by a cowboy on his fleet and nimble -pony. In the corral were perhaps a score of steers and there was -a cowboy rider ready for each of them. Four or five steers were -bull-dogged one after the other. Some had been quickly thrown to the -ground by the athletic cowboys amid the plaudits of the onlookers. But -one had proven too strong for the skill and quickness of his adversary, -and after rather severely injuring the intrepid youthful gladiator -rushed madly on down the race track. - -Presently Roderick Warfield came into view astride his favorite pony, -Badger, riding at full tilt down the race course, chasing a huge -cream-colored steer with wide-spread horns, cruelly sharp and -dangerous-looking. As horse and steer came abreast Roderick’s athletic -form swayed in his saddle for a moment, and then like a flash he was -seen to leap on to the steer’s back and reaching forward grab the -animal’s horns. An instant later he had swung his muscular body to -the ground in front of his sharp homed adversary and brought him to an -abrupt halt. - -Gail Holden’s face grew pale as she watched the scene from among a -group of her girl friends on the grandstand. - -The object of the bull-dogging contest is to twist the neck of the steer -and throw him to the ground. But Roderick accomplished more. The steer -lifted him once from the ground, and the great throng of people on -the grandstand and bleachers, also the hundreds who had been unable to -obtain seating accommodation and were standing along the rails, held -their breath in bated silence. The powerful cream-colored steer threw -his head up, and lifting Roderick’s feet from their anchorage started -on a mad run. But when he lowered his head a moment later Roderick’s -feet caught the earth again, and the steer was brought to a standstill. -Then the milling back and forth began. Roderick’s toes sank deep into -the sand that covered the race track; the muscles of his neck stood out -in knots. Finally, with one heroic twist on the long horns as a pry over -a fulcrum, he accomplished the feat of combined strength and endurance, -and the intense silence of the great throng was broken by a report -like the shot of a pistol as the bull-dogged steer fell heavily to the -earth—dead. The animal’s neck was broken. - -There are very few cases on record where a steer’s neck has been -broken in bull-dogging contests. Roderick therefore had gained a rare -distinction. But technically he had done too much, for the judges were -compelled to withhold from him the honors of the championship because in -killing the animal he had violated the humane laws of the state, which -they were pledged to observe throughout the series of contests. But this -did not affect the tumult of applause that acclaimed his victory over -the huge and vicious-looking steer. Afterwards when his friends gathered -around him in wonderment at his having entered for such an event he -confessed that for several weeks he had been practicing bull-dogging out -on the range, preparing for this contest. - -In the afternoon of the last day, the finals of the bucking-broncho -competition were announced from the grandstand. There were only three -contestants remaining out of the score or more of original entries, and -Roderick Warfield was among the number. Scotty Meisch was there—the -cowboy whom Roderick had challenged—also Bud Bledsoe, the bodyguard -and sleuth of W. B. Grady. Three of the unconquered outlaws were brought -out—each attended by two wranglers; the names of the horses were put -in a hat and each cowboy drew for his mount. Roderick Warfield drew Gin -Fizz, Bud Bledsoe drew Steamboat and Scotty Meisch drew Firefly. And in -a few moments the wranglers were busy. - -Three horses and six wranglers working on them at the same time! It was -a sight that stirred the blood with expectation. These horses had been -successful in throwing the riders who had previously attempted to subdue -them. The outlaws were recognized by the throng even before their names -were called from the grandstand. - -The method of the game is this: One wrangler approaches the horse while -the other holds taut the lariat that has been thrown over his neck; and -if the freehanded wrangler is quick enough or lucky enough he seizes the -horse by the ears and throws his whole weight on the animal’s head, -which is then promptly decorated with a hackamore knotted bridle. A -hackamore is a sort of a halter, but it is made of the toughest kind of -rawhide and so tied that a knot presses disastrously against the lower -jaw of the horse. After being haltered the outlaw is blindfolded with a -gunnysack. To accomplish all this is a dangerous struggle between -horse and the wranglers. Then the word “Saddle” is shouted, and the -saddles are quickly adjusted to the backs of these untamed denizens of -the wild. It takes considerable time to accomplish all this and have the -girths tightened to the satisfaction of the wranglers first and of -the rider last. Invariably the rider is the court of final resort in -determining that the outlaw is in readiness to be mounted. - -At last the moments of tense expectancy were ended. It was seen that one -of the outlaws was ready, and at a call from the judges’ stand, Scotty -Meisch the first rough-rider leaped on to the back of his untamed horse. - -The “Ki-yi” yell was given—the blindfold slipped from Firefly’s -eyes, and the rowels of the rider sunk into the flanks of his horse. -Bucking and plunging, wheeling and whirling, all the time the rider not -daring to “pull leather” and so disqualify himself under the rules, -the outlaw once again proved himself a veritable demon. In just two -minutes after the struggle began Scotty Meisch measured his length on -the ground and Firefly was dashing for the open. The scene had been a -thrilling one. Roderick noticed that Scotty had to be helped off the -track, but he felt no concern—the rough-rider parted from his mount in -a hurry may be temporarily dazed but is seldom seriously hurt. - -Steamboat was the next horse. Bud Bledsoe was wont to brag there was -nothing wore hair that he could not ride. But Steamboat, when he felt -the weight of a rider on his back, was as usual possessed of a devil. -But Bledsoe was not the man to conquer the noted outlaw, and down he -went in prompt and inglorious defeat. - -Gin Fizz was a magnificent specimen of horseflesh—black as midnight -with a coat of hair that shone like velvet. His proud head was held high -in air. He stood like a statue while blindfolded and Roderick Warfield -was making ready to mount. - -The vast assemblage in the grandstand held their breath in amazement and -wondered what would become of the rider of the giant black. - -Then Roderick quickly mounted, and men and women rose to their feet to -see the terribleness of it all. Roderick sent his spurs deep into the -flanks of the black and plied the quirt in a desperate effort quickly to -master and subdue the outlaw. - -The horse reared and plunged with lightning quickness, and at times was -the center of a whirlwind of dust in his determined zig-zag efforts -to dislodge his rider. He rose straight up on his hind legs and for -a moment it looked as if he were going to fall over backwards. Then -seemingly rising still higher in air from his back feet he leaped -forward and downward, striking his front feet into the earth as if he -would break the saddle girth and certainly pitch the rider over his -head. He squatted, jumped, corkscrewed and sun-fished, leaped forward; -then he stopped suddenly and in demoniacal anger, as if determined not -to be conquered, he threw his head far around endeavoring to bite his -assailant’s legs. But at last the horse’s exertions wore him down -and he seemed to be reluctantly realizing that he had found his master. -In the end, after a terrible fight lasting fully seven minutes, he -quieted down in submission, and Gin Fizz thus acknowledged Roderick’s -supremacy. He was subdued. Roderick drew rein, patted him kindly, -dismounted and turned him over to the wranglers. Gin Fizz was no longer -an outlaw; he suffered himself to be led away, trembling in every limb -but submissive as a well-trained cow-pony. - -Approaching the judges’ stand, Roderick received a tremendous ovation -both from the onlookers and from his brother cowboys. The championship -ribbon was pinned to his breast, and now he was shaking hands -promiscuously with friends, acquaintances and strangers. But all the -while his eyes were roaming around in search of Gail Holden. - -At last he was out of the crowd, in a quiet corner, with Grant Jones, -the Shields sisters, and a few intimates. - -“Where is Miss Holden?” he enquired of Barbara. - -“Oh, she took poor Scotty Meisch to the hospital in an automobile. She -insisted on going.” - -“He’s not badly hurt, is he?” he asked drily. - -“Oh, no. Just shaken up a lot. He’ll be all right in a week’s -time, Dr. Burke says.” - -“Then Gail—I mean Miss Holden—didn’t see Gin Fizz broken?” - -“No. But she’ll hear about it all right,” exclaimed Barbara -enthusiastically. “My word, it was great!” And she shook his hand -again. - -But the day of triumph had ended in disappointment for Roderick -Warfield. He slipped away, saddened and crestfallen. - -“It was all for her I did it”—the thought kept hammering at his -brain. “And she never even stopped to see. I suppose she’s busy now -bathing the forehead of that contemptible little runt in the hospital. -Stella wouldn’t have turned me down like that.” - -And he found himself thinking affectionately and longingly of the little -“college widow.” He hadn’t been to the post office for three days. -The belated letter might have arrived at last. He would go and see at -all events; and to drown thought he whistled “The Merry Widow” waltz -as he grimly stalked along. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX.—A LETTER FROM THE COLLEGE WIDOW - -YES, there was a letter from Stella Rain. Roderick took it eagerly from -the hands of the clerk at the general delivery window. A good number of -people were already crowding into the post office from the fair grounds. -But he was too hungry for news to wait for quieter surroundings. So -he turned to a vacant corner in the waiting room and ripped open the -envelope. The letter was as follows: - -“Roderick:— - -“I am sure that what I am about to tell you will be for your good as -well as my own. It seems so long ago since we were betrothed. At that -time you were only a boy and I freely confess I liked you very, very -much. I had known you during your four years in college and you were -always just splendid. But Roderick, a real love affair has come into -my life—something different from all other experiences, and when you -receive this letter I shall be Mrs. Vance Albertrum Carter. - -“Mr. Carter, financially, is able to give me a splendid home. He is a -fine fellow and I know you would like him. Let me be to you the same as -to the other boys of old Knox—your friend, the ‘college widow.’ - -“Very sincerely, - -“Stella Rain.” - -Not a muscle of his face quivered as he read the letter, but at -its close he dropped both hands to his side in an attitude of utter -dejection. The blow had fallen so unexpectedly; he felt crushed and -grieved, and at the same time humiliated. But in an instant he had -recovered his outward composure. He thrust the letter into his pocket, -and shouldered his way through the throng at the doorway. He had left -Badger in a stall at the fair grounds. Thither he bent his steps, taking -a side street to avoid the crowd streaming into the town. The grandstand -and surrounding buildings were already deserted. He quickly adjusted -saddle and bridle, and threw himself on the pony’s back. - -“‘She knows I would like him,’”he muttered, as he gained -the race track, the scene of his recent triumphs, its turf torn and -dented with the hoofs of struggling steers and horses, thronged but an -hour before with a wildly excited multitude but now silent and void. -“‘Like him’.” he reiterated bitterly. “Yes—like hell.” - -And with the words he set his steed at the farther rail. Badger skimmed -over it like a deer and Roderick galloped on across country, making for -the hills. - -That night he did not return to the bunk house. - -It was high noon next day when he showed up at the ranch. He went -straight to Mr. Shields’ office, gave in his resignation, and took his -pay check. No explanations were required—Mr. Shields had known for a -considerable time that Roderick was leaving. He thanked him cordially -for his past services, congratulated him on his championship honors at -the frontier celebration, and bade him come to the ranch home at any -time as a welcome guest. Roderick excused himself from saying good-by -for the present to the ladies; he was going to stay for a while in -Encampment with his friend Grant Jones, and would ride out for an -evening visit before very long. Then he packed his belongings at the -bunk house, left word with one of the helpers for trunk and valise to -be carted into town, and rode away. Badger was Roderick’s own personal -property; he had purchased the pony some months before from Mr. Shields, -and as he leaped on its back after closing the last boundary gate he -patted the animal’s neck fondly and proudly. Badger alone was well -worth many months of hard and oftentimes distasteful work, a horse at -all events could be faithful, he and his good little pony would never -part—such was the burden of his thoughts as he left the Shields ranch -and the cowboy life behind him. - -Grant Jones was in Encampment, and jumped up from his writing table when -Roderick threw open the door of the shack and walked in. - -“Hello, old man, this is indeed a welcome visit. Where in the wide -world have you been?” - -He turned Roderick around so the light would fall upon his face as he -extended his hand in warmest welcome, and noticed he was haggard and -pale. - -“Oh,” said Roderick, “I have been up in the hills fighting it out -alone, sleeping under the stars and thinking matters over.” - -“What does this all mean, anyway, old man? I don’t understand -you,” said Grant with much solicitude. - -“Well, guess you better forget it then,” said Roderick half -abruptly. “But I owe you an apology for going away so unceremoniously -from the frontier gathering. I know we had arranged to dine together -last night But I just cleared out—that’s all. Please do not ask me -any questions, Grant, as to why and wherefore. If in the future I should -take you into my confidence that will be time enough.” - -“All right, old man,” said Grant, “here is my hand. And know now -and for all time it don’t make a derned bit of difference what has -happened, I am on your side to the finish, whether it is a desperate -case of petty larceny or only plain murder.” - -Grant laughed and tried to rouse his friend into hilarity. - -“It is neither,” replied Roderick laconically. “All the same -I’ve got some news for you. I have quit my job.” - -“At the Shields ranch?” cried Grant in astonishment. “Surely -there’s been no trouble there?” - -“Oh, no, we are all the best of friends. I am just tired of -cow-punching, and have other plans in view. Besides, remember the letter -we got pushed under the door here on the occasion of my last visit. -Perhaps I may be a bit skeered about having my hide shot full of holes, -eh, old man?” Roderick was now laughing. - -But Grant looked grave. He eyed his comrade tentatively. - -“Stuff and nonsense. The lunatic who wrote that letter was barking -up the wrong tree. He mistook you for the other fellow. You were never -seriously smitten in that quarter, now were you, Rod, old man?” - -“Certainly not. Barbara Shields is a fine girl, but I never even -dreamed of making love to her. I didn’t come to Wyoming to chase after -a millionaire’s daughter,” he added bitterly. - -“Oh, that’s Barbara’s misfortune not her fault,” laughed Grant. -“But I was afraid you had fallen in love with her, just as I fell head -over heels in love with Dorothy—for her own sake, dear boy, and not -for anything that may ever come to her from her father.” - -“You were afraid, do you say?” quizzed Roderick. “Have you -Mormonistic tendencies then? Do you grudge a twin to the man you always -call your best friend?” - -“Oh, you know there’s no thought like that in my mind,” protested -Grant. “But you came on to the field too late. You see Ben Bragdon was -already almost half engaged.” - -“So that’s the other fellow, is it?” laughed Roderick. “Oh, now -I begin to understand. Then things have come to a crisis between Barbara -and Bragdon.” - -“Well, this is in strict confidence, Rod. But it is true. That’s why -I was a bit nervous just now on your account—I kind of felt I had to -break bad news.” - -“Oh, don’t you worry on my account. Understand once and for all that -I’m not a marrying man.” - -“Well, we’ll see about that later on,” replied Grant, smiling. -“But I should have been real glad had you been the man to win Barbara -Shields. How jolly happy we would have been, all four together.” - -“Things are best just as they are,” said Roderick sternly. “I -wouldn’t exchange Badger, my horse out there, for any woman in the -world. Which reminds me, Grant, that I’ve come here to stay with you -for a while. Guess I can put Badger in the barn.” - -“Sure—you are always welcome; I don’t have to say that. But -remember that Barbara-Bragdon matter is a dead secret. Dorothy just -whispered it to me in strictest confidence. Hard lines that, for the -editor of such an enterprising newspaper as the Dillon Doublejack. But -the engagement is not to be announced until the Republican nomination -for state senator is put through. You know, of course, that Ben Bragdon -has consented to run against Carlisle and the smelter interests.” - -“I’m glad to hear it And now we have an additional reason to put our -shoulders to the wheel. We’ve got to send Ben Bragdon to Cheyenne for -Barbara’s sake. Count me in politics from this day on, old man. You -see I am out of a job. This will be something worth while—to help -down that blood-sucker Grady, and at the same time secure Bragdon’s -election.” - -“Ben Bragdon is the best man for Wyoming.” - -“I know it. Put me on his committee right away.” - -“You’ll be a tower of strength,” exclaimed Grant enthusiastically. -“The champion broncho-buster of the world—just think of that.” - -Roderick laughed loud and long. This special qualification for political -work mightily amused him. - -“Oh, don’t laugh,” Grant remonstrated, in all seriousness. “You -are a man of note now in the community, make no mistake. You can swing -the vote of every cow-puncher in the land. You are their hero—their -local Teddy Roosevelt.” - -Again Roderick was convulsed. - -“And by the way,” continued Grant, “I never had the chance to -congratulate you on that magnificent piece of work on Gin Fizz. It was -the greatest ever.” - -“Oh, we’ll let all that slide.” - -“No, siree. Wait till you read my column description of the immortal -combat in the Doublejack.” He turned to his writing desk, and picked -up a kodak print. “Here’s your photograph—snapped by Gail Holden -on the morning of the event, riding your favorite pony Badger. Oh, -I’ve got all the details; the half-tone has already been made. The -Encampment Herald boys have been chasing around all day for a picture, -but I’m glad you were in hiding. The Doublejack will scoop them proper -this time.” - -But Roderick was no longer listening. The name of Gail Holden had sent -his thoughts far away. - -“How’s Scotty Meisch?” he asked—rather inconsequentially as the -enthusiastic editor thought. - -“Oh, Scotty Meisch? He’s all right. Slight concussion of the -brain—will be out of the hospital in about two weeks. But Miss Holden, -as it turned out, did the lad a mighty good turn in rushing him to the -hospital He was unconscious when they got there. She knew more than -Doc Burke—or saw more; or else the Doc could not deny himself the -excitement of seeing you tackle Gin Fizz. But there’s no selfishness -in Grail Holden’s make-up—not one little streak.” - -In a flash Roderick Warfield saw everything under a new light, and a -great glow of happiness stole into his heart. It was not indifference -for him that had made Gail Holden miss the outlaw contest. What a fool -he had been to get such a notion into his head. - -“Guess I’ll go and feed Badger,” he said, as he turned away -abruptly and left the room. - -“When you come back I’ve a lot more to talk about,” shouted Grant, -resuming his seat and making a grab for his lead-pencil. - -But it was several hours before Roderick returned. He had baited the -pony, watched him feed, and just drowsed away the afternoon among the -fragrant bales of hay—drowsing without sleeping, chewing a straw and -thinking all the time. - -At last he strolled in upon the still busy scribe. Grant threw down his -pencil. - -“Thought you had slipped away again to the hills and the starlight -and all that sort of thing. I’m as hungry as a hunter. Let’s go down -town and eat.” - -“I’m with you,” assented Roderick. “But after dinner I want to -see Major Buell Hampton. Is he likely to be at home?” - -“It was about Buell Hampton I was going to speak to you. Oh, you -don’t know the news.” Grant was hopping around in great excitement, -changing his jacket, whisking the new coat vigorously. “But there, I -am pledged again to secrecy—Good God, what a life for a newspaper man -to lead, bottled up all the time!” - -“Then when am I to be enlightened?” - -“He sent for me this morning and I spent an hour with him. He -also wanted you, but you were not to be found. He wants to see you -immediately. Tonight will be the very time, for he said he would be at -home.” - -“That’s all right, Grant. But, say, old fellow, I want half an hour -first with the Major—all alone.” - -“Mystery after mystery,” fairly shouted the distracted editor. -“Can’t you give me at least this last news item for publication? -I’m losing scoops all the time.” - -“I’m afraid you must go scoopless once again,” grinned Roderick. -“But after dinner you can do a little news-hunting on your own account -around the saloons, then join me later on at the Major’s. That suit -you?” - -“Oh, I suppose I’ve got to submit,” replied Grant, as he drew on -his now well-brushed coat. “But all through dinner, I’ll have you -guessing, old man. You cannot imagine the story Buell Hampton’s -going to tell you. Oh, you needn’t question me. I’m -ironclad—bomb-proof—as silent as a clam.” - -Roderick laughed at the mixed metaphors, and arm in arm the friends -started for their favorite restaurant. - - - - -CHAPTER XX.—THE STORE OF GOLD - -A COUPLE of hours later Roderick arrived at Buell Hampton’s home. The -Major was alone; there were no signs of Jim Rankin or Tom Sun; no traces -of the recent midnight toil. The room looked just the same as on the -occasion of Roderick’s last visit, now more than two months ago, -except for a curtain hanging across one wall. - -Buell Hampton was seated before the great fireplace and notwithstanding -the season of the year had a small bed of coals burning. - -“It takes the chill away, for one thing,” he explained after -greeting his visitor, “and then it gives me the inspiration of real -live embers into which to look and dream. There are so many poor people -in the world, so much suffering and so many heartaches, that one hardly -knows where to begin.” - -“Well, Major,” said Roderick, “I am glad to find you in this mood. -I’m one of the sufferers—or at least have been. I have come to -you for some heartache balm. Oh, I’m not jesting. Really I came here -tonight determined to give you my confidence—to ask your advice as to -my future plans.” - -“I am extremely glad you feel toward me like that, my lad,” -exclaimed Buell Hampton, grasping Roderick’s arm and looking kindly -into his eyes. “I have always felt some subtle bond of sympathy -between us. I have wanted to help you at the outset of a promising -career in every way I can. I count it a privilege to be called in to -comfort or to counsel, and you will know later that I have something -more for you than mere words of advice.” - -“Well, it is your advice I want most badly now, Major. In the first -place I have thrown up my job with Mr. Shields.” - -“Tired of cow-punching?” nodded Buell Hampton with a smile. “I -knew that was coming.” - -“In the second place I want to be perfectly candid with you. I have a -prospecting venture in view.” - -“That I have guessed from several hints you have dropped from time to -time.” - -“Well, you spoke a while ago about your reserving some little interest -for me in your great gold discovery. That was mighty kind, and rest -assured I appreciate your goodness to one who only a few months ago was -a stranger to you.” - -“You forget that I am a reader of character—that no kindred souls -are strangers even at a first meeting, my son.” - -Buell Hampton spoke very softly but very clearly; his gaze rested -fixedly on Roderick; the latter felt a thrill run through him—yes, -assuredly, this great and good man had been his friend from the first -moment they had clasped hands. - -“You were very good then, Major,” he replied, “in judging me so -kindly. But I am afraid that I evoked your special sympathy and interest -because of the confidences I gave you at one of our early meetings. You -will not have forgotten how I spoke in a most sacred way about certain -matters in Galesburg and what I intended to do when I had sufficient -money to carry out my plans.” - -“I remember distinctly,” said the Major. “Your frank confidence -greatly pleased me. Well, has anything happened?” - -“There is just one man on earth I will show this letter to, and you, -Major, are the man.” - -Saying this Roderick handed over Stella Rain’s letter. - -After the Major had carefully perused it and put it back in the -envelope, he reached across to Roderick. - -“No,” said Roderick, “don’t give that letter back to me. Kindly -lay it on the red coals and let me see it burn to gray ashes. I have -fought this thing out all alone up in the hills, and I am now almost -glad that letter came, since it had to be. But let it vanish now in -the flames, just as I am going to put Stella Rain forever out of my -thoughts. Yesterday the receipt of this letter was an event; but from -now on I shall endeavor to regard it as only an incident.” - -Silently and musingly the Major complied with Roderick’s request and -consigned the letter to the glowing embers. When the last trace had -disappeared, he looked up at Roderick. - -“I will take one exception to your remarks,” he said. “Do not -think unkindly of Stella Rain, nor even attempt to put her out of your -thoughts. Her influence over you has been all for good during the past -months, and she has shown herself a very fine and noble woman in -the gentle manner in which she has broken the bonds that had tied -you—bonds impulsively and all too lightly assumed on your part, as -she knew quite well from the beginning. I have a profound admiration -for your little ‘college widow,’ Roderick, and hold her in high -esteem.” - -There was just the suspicion of tears in Roderick’s eyes—a lump -in his throat which rendered it impossible for him to reply. Yes; all -bitterness, all sense of humiliation, were now gone. He too was thinking -mighty kindly of sweet and gentle Stella Rain. - -“Remember,” continued the Major quietly, “you told me how she -warned you that some other day another girl, the real girl, would come -along. I guess that has happened now.” - -Roderick started; there was a protesting flush upon his cheek. - -“Even though you may not yet fully realize it,” quietly added the -Major. - -“What do you mean?” faltered Roderick; the flush of offended dignity -had now turned into the blush of confusion. - -The Major smiled benignantly. - -“Oh, my young friend, remember again that I read men’s minds and -hearts just a little. There must be some new influence in your life.” - -“How do you know that—how can you say that?” - -Buell Hampton laid a hand on the young man’s shoulder and smiled. - -“Because otherwise you would be still up among the hills alone, young -man. Your fight in the wilderness would have lasted for forty days—not -for a single night. The fever of love does not die down so suddenly -without an antidote. The resignation you have shown while we burned that -letter is not merely a negative condition of mind. There is something -positive as well.” - -“Oh, I can’t admit that,” protested Roderick. “Or at least -I dare not allow myself to think like that,” he corrected himself -hurriedly. - -“Well, we shall see what we shall see. Meanwhile all is well. The rich -harvest of experience has been reaped; the fertile soil awaits the next -tillage. The important moment of every life is ‘The Now.’ And this -is what we have to think about tonight, Roderick.” - -“Precisely, Major. And that is just why I opened the conversation. As -I said at the outset, you assigned me an interest in your gold mine for -a specific object that no longer exists.” - -“On the contrary,” replied Buell Hampton, “I assigned it on -general principles—on the general principle of helping a worthy young -man at the critical period of starting into useful life-work. But I may -tell you also,” he laughed lightly, “that I had in my mind’s eye -valuable and important future services whereby the interest would be -paid for most adequately.” - -“And these services are what?” asked Roderick, with a delighted -gleam in his eyes. - -“We’ll come to that presently. Where is Grant Jones?” - -“He was to follow me here in half an hour. Time’s almost up, unless -he’s on the trail of a newspaper scoop.” Roderick was smiling -happily now. - -“Well, we shall await his coming. What do you say to a little music to -beguile the time?” - -The Major glanced at his violin resting on a side table. - -“Nothing would give me greater pleasure,” responded Roderick, -jumping up with alacrity and handing to the master his old Cremona. - -“I am glad you like music,” said Buell Hampton, as he began to -tighten his bow. “Its rhythmic cadences of tone are a language -universal. Its power is unseen but felt, captivating and enthralling -alike the cultured and the untutored. The harmony of tone enwraps the -soul like a mantle. It influences heart and intellect It may depress in -saddest tears or elevate to highest ecstasy. Music is the melody of the -Gods. It is like an ethereal mist—a soft and dainty distillation of a -thousand aromatic perfumes, inspiring and wholesome to the soul as the -morning dew is to buds and blossoms.” - -As he spoke he had been gently thrumming the strings, and now he placed -the violin to his chin. Soft and plaintive melodies alternating with -wild and warring airs followed one after the other until the entire room -seemed to be quivering with melody. For fully an hour, unconscious of -the passing time, the Major entertained his guest, and concluded with -a rapid surging theme as if it were a call to battle and for greater -achievements. - -Grant Jones had not yet arrived. Roderick recovered from the trance into -which the music had thrown him. He thanked the Major for the pleasure he -had given, then threw a glance at the doorway. - -“Where the deuce can he be?” he murmured. - -But at the very moment the door opened, and in walked the belated -editor. - -“Where have you been all this time?” asked Roderick, half -petulantly. - -“On the porch of course,” replied Grant. “Do you think I was going -to interrupt such divine melody?” - -Buell Hampton smiled pleasedly while he laid down the violin on the -table. - -“Well,” he said, “be seated, Grant, my boy. I am going to lose no -further time. I have some figures to work on tonight. This is my first -night at home, Roderick, for many weeks. Grant already knows the story. -Now I shall tell it to you.” - -And straightway the Major related how Jim Rankin, Tom Sun, and Boney -Earnest had garnered the midnight harvests of gold. Then he drew aside -the curtain hanging on the wall, unlocked the stout door which it -concealed, and, to Roderick’s amazement, displayed the piled up sacks -of golden ore. - -“All quite equal to the rich samples you handled here several months -ago,” said Buell Hampton, as he waved his hand toward the accumulated -treasure. - -“Great Cæsar!” gasped Roderick. “There must be hundreds of -thousands of dollars there.” - -“The total will run into millions, young man,” smiled the Major. -Then he closed the door, relocked it, and dropped the curtain. But he -did not resume his seat. - -“Now this is where your services, and those of Grant Jones will come -in. This great wealth must be safely transported to Denver. And as I -have already explained to you tonight, I still want to guard jealously -my secret of the Hidden Valley on whose resources I may or may not draw -again—this the future must decide. All of us who are interested have -abundance for the present; we are equipped for many good works. The -removal of this large quantity of ore, without attracting public -attention here, requires good judgment on the part of men who can be -absolutely trusted. You are the men selected for the responsible duty. -And remember it will be dangerous duty should our secret leak out. The -days of hold-ups are passing in the West, but have not yet passed; for -as you both know there are still a good few desperadoes among the wilds -of our Wyoming mountains.” - -“My God—what loot!” murmured Roderick, glancing toward the -curtain. - -“Yes—a rich loot,” acquiesced the Major. “Now you young men will -understand that your interests are my own—that while I am delighted to -share this treasure with my chosen friends, these friends have been -and continue to be quite indispensable to me. Roderick, your question -earlier in the evening is answered—you will have a rightful share in -this gold. Get ready in about a week’s time to earn it Now go tonight. -I will see you later on to unfold my plans for the journey in closer -detail.” - -“Great guns,” groaned Grant Jones, as the two young men gained the -roadway. “What a newspaper story—what a scoop! And not one damned -word can be put in type.” - - - - -CHAPTER XXI.—A WARNING - -BY SUBTLE alchemy of thought Roderick’s feelings toward Scotty Meisch -had become entirely changed. On the ranch he had treated the rough, -uncultivated and at times insolent youth with contempt that was scarcely -concealed. He was not of his class; and Roderick by his manner had shown -that he counted Scotty as outside the pale of good breeding—a fellow -not to be associated with except in the necessary work of roping a steer -or handling a mob of cattle. It had been almost an act of condescension -on his part to accept Scotty’s challenge to try out their respective -riding abilities at the frontier fair. Any hurt the lad might have -received in the contest was part of the day’s game, and at the moment -Roderick had treated the incident with indifference. But now he found -himself feeling quite solicitous as to the poor fellow’s condition. -Of course Gail Holden, who had interested herself in the injured cowboy, -had nothing to do with this change of sentiment—at least Roderick’s -consciousness took no cognizance of her influence in the matter. All the -same, as he walked over to the hospital on the following afternoon to -inquire about the invalid, he was conning in his mind the chances of -perhaps meeting Gail there. - -However Scotty Meisch was alone when Roderick was admitted to the ward. -There was only another occupant of the long room, occupying a cot at -the farther end. The nurse as she brought Roderick to Scotty’s bedside -declared that her patient was getting along fine, and that a visit from -a friend would cheer him up and do him good. Roderick smiled as he sat -down at the foot of the bed and the nurse moved away to attend to other -duties. Except for a bandaged head the cowboy looked fairly fit. - -“How are you, old man?” Roderick asked in a kindly tone. - -Scotty seemed quite disconcerted by this friendly greeting. He looked -sheepish and shame-faced. - -“Oh, I’ll be all right in no time,” he mumbled. “Expect you -think I’m a mean cuss,” he added, after a moment’s pause, glancing -at Roderick then hastily looking away again. - -“I haven’t said so,” replied Roderick in a pleasant and assuring -way. - -“No, I know you hain’t said it. But I’ve never, liked you from -the first time we met over at the Shield’s ranch. I don’t know -why—damned if I do. But I didn’t like you and don’t like you now, -and I’m gosh’lmighty ashamed of myself fer bein’ so ornery.” - -“You shouldn’t speak of yourself so harshly,” said Roderick, -somewhat interested in the turn the conversation was taking. - -“I don’t deserve any kindness at your hands,” Meisch went on. “I -sure planned to kill you onct ‘til I found out you weren’t sweet -on Barbara Shields. Oh, I’m a low-down cuss, but I’m ambitious. You -hain’t the feller I’m after any more. It’s that lawyer Carlisle -and I’ll git him, you jist see. He’s got to keep out of my way,” -and as Scotty, with a black scowl on his face, said this he looked the -part of an avenging demon right enough. - -“I know,” he continued, “Barbara is older than I am, but I’m -dead gone on her, even if she don’t know it, an’ I’ll do things -yet to that feller Carlisle.” Roderick was fairly perplexed by these -references to Barbara Shields and the disclosure of the rough cowboy’s -feelings toward his employer’s daughter. For a moment he could not -find the proper word to say. He just ventured a platitude, kindly spoken -as it was kindly intended: “Oh, you must get over these broodings, -Scotty.” - -“It’s not broodings—it’s business, and I mean it,” he -muttered. “Oh, you needn’t look so darned solemn. I’ve no more bad -feelin’s agin you. But when you first came to the ranch, you know you -couldn’t ride any better than a kid. But you began givin’ yourself -airs, an’ then when I thought you were goin’ to cut me out -with Barbara I jist got plum crazy. That’s why I sent you fair -warnin’.” - -A light broke in on Roderick. - -“So it was you who slipped that note under Grant Jones’ door, was -it?” he asked in great surprise. - -“Yas. You can know it now; who cares? But it was only later I saw -I was on a blind trail—that it was the other one you’re -after—goin’ fishin’ an’ all that sort o’ thing.” - -Roderick reddened. - -“Oh, that’s all fudge too,” he exclaimed uneasily. - -“I’m not so sure ‘bout that,” replied Scotty, with a cunning -look in his eyes. “‘Sides, she’s dead gone on you, that’s -a cert. She was here all yesterday afternoon, and could speak about -nothin’ else—praised yer ridin’ and allowed she was tarnation -sorry to have missed seein’ you on Gin Fizz. Which reminds me that -I’ve got to comgratulate you on the championship.” He slipped a hand -timidly and tentatively from under the bed-spread. “Oh, I can admit -myself beat when I’m beat. You’ve grown to be a better’n rider -than me. I’m only a little skinny chap at the best, but you -showed yourself strong enough to kill that great big steer in the -bull-doggin’. You’ve got me skinned, and you hold the championship -right enough. Shake.” - -And Scotty at last mustered up the moral courage to extend his hand. -Roderick took it and shook it warmly. So Gail had been talking about -him!—his heart had leaped with joy. - -“I’m glad to hear you speak like that, Scotty,” he said with great -cordiality. “You and I can come to be mighty good friends.” - -“Gee, but I wish I looked like you,” remarked Scotty, lapsing into a -half smile. “Shake hands again with me, won’t you?” - -Roderick reached over and once more bestowed a good honest squeeze; -and he improved the occasion by begging Scotty not to indulge in evil -thoughts about killing people or anything of that sort. - -“What makes you kind t’ me?” asked the lad as he looked -inquiringly at Roderick. - -“I don’t know that I have been particularly kind to you,” replied -Roderick. “I begin to realize that I should have been here before now -to help cheer you up a bit while convalescing.” - -Scotty turned from Roderick and looking at the ceiling was silent for a -few moments. At last he said: “Expect if I’d stay here a long, long -time you’d keep on bein’ kind t’ me. Possibly you would bring -Barbara with you on some of your visits. But I know I’m goin’ t’ -get well, that’s the pity of it all. I wouldn’t be in bed now if -the doctor hadn’t said I got ter stay here for a few days. When I’m -well, why, then it’s all off with you an’ Scotty. You won’t pay -any more attention to me when I’m once more sound as a nut an’ -ridin’ range than you would a low down coyote.” - -“Why should I become indifferent to you?” inquired Roderick. - -“Oh, no reason why you should, only you will,” replied Scotty. -“You are of the high-falutin’ an’ educated kind an’—well, I -never went to school more’n two weeks in my life. I got tired of the -educatin’ business—stole a horse and never did go back. An’ they -never caught me, nuther.” - -He brightened up when he said this and laughed at his cleverness as if -it were a most pleasant remembrance. - -“Where was your childhood home?” inquired Roderick. - -“Now, right there,” replied Scotty, “is where yer presumin’. -You’re not talkin’ to me. D’ye suppose I’m goin’ ter tell yer -and have this whole business piped off and those fellers come out here -an’ pinch me for hoss-stealin’. Not on yer life, so long as Scotty -Meisch knows himself.” - -Roderick smiled as he said: “Surely, Scotty, you are a very suspicious -person. I had no thought of doing what you suggest.” - -“Waal,” drawled Scotty, “if you’d have been as near goin’ to -the penitentiary as often as I have, you’d learn to keep yer mouth -shut when people begin to inquire into your past hist’ry an’ not -unbosom yerself. Fact is, my hist’ry won’t stand investigatin’. -It’s fuller of thin places an’ holes than an old-fashioned tin corn -grater. You know what a grater is, don’t you? It’s a tin bent over -into a half moon an’ nailed to a board with holes punched from inside -out to make it rough. Where I come from we used to husk new corn just as -soon as it was out of the milk an’ grate it into meal. About the only -thing we had to live on was cornmeal mush an’ milk. Wish I had some -now. I’m hungrier than hell for it.” - -The primitiveness of it all rather appealed to Roderick, and he called -the nurse and asked if she wouldn’t serve the patient with some -cornmeal mush with milk for dinner that evening. - -“Certainly,” she replied, “if Dr. Burke does not object,” and -went away to make inquiries. In a little while she returned and said: -“The doctor says a nice bowl of cornmeal mush and milk would be just -the thing for Mr. Meisch.” And it was so arranged. - -When the nurse had gone Roderick noticed a tear trickling down the cheek -of Scotty and in order not to embarrass the boy he turned away and stood -looking out of the window. Presently Scotty said: “I wish ter hell I -was decent, that’s what I wish.” - -Without turning from the window Roderick inquired: “How old are you, -Scotty?” - -“Guess I’m about nineteen. I don’t know fer sure. They never did -tell me when my birthday was.” - -“How would you like to go to school, Scotty? Brace up and be an -educated chap like other fellows.” - -“Me learn to read an’ write?” exclaimed Scotty. “Look here, Mr. -Warfield, are you chaffin’ me? That’s what some Englishmen called it -when they meant teasin’ and so I say chaffin’. Might as well use all -the big words a feller picks up on the way.” Roderick laughed aloud -at Scotty’s odd expressions and turned to him and said: “Scotty, you -aren’t a bad fellow. You have a good heart in you.” - -“I don’t know about that,” said Scotty, shaking his head. “One -time there was a feller told me that tough cusses like me don’t have -hearts—just gizzards.” - -“Well,” said Roderick, laughing, “my time has come to go now but I -want to tell you I like you, Scotty. You seem to me to be the making of -a very decent sort of chap, and if you will be a real good fellow -and are sincere about wanting to go to school and make something of -yourself, I believe I can arrange for you to do so.” - -“Honest, Mr. Warfield, honest? Are you tellin’ me the truth or is -this a sick bed jolly?” - -“Certainly I am telling you the truth,” replied Roderick. “You -think it all over until I come and see you again.” - -“When’ll you come? Tomorrow?” - -“Yes,” replied Roderick, “I’ll come tomorrow.” - -“All right,” said Scotty, “I’ll sure look for yer.” The -next day when Roderick called, Major Buell Hampton and Grant Jones -accompanied him. They had a long talk with Scotty whose rapid recovery -showed improvement even from the previous day. After the subject had -been introduced by Roderick, who told Scotty that he had informed his -friends of the lad’s desire to go to school, Major Buell Hampton -observed: “A printing office, Mr. Meisch, is a liberal education -within itself. I have been talking this matter over with Mr. Jones, -the Editor of the Dillon Doublejack, and with Mr. Warfield, and we have -mutually agreed that if you are in earnest about leaving the range for -a while and will learn to read books and generally improve your mind, -we shall give you the opportunity. As soon as you are able to leave the -hospital, how would you like to go over to the little town of Dillon -with Mr. Grant Jones, this gentleman at my right, and go into his -printing office?” - -“You would be my devil to start in with,” said Grant, -good-naturedly. - -“Guess that’d about fit me,” responded Scotty with a grin. -“I’m a sort of a devil anyway, ain’t I?” and he looked toward -Roderick. - -“Mr. Jones means a different kind of a devil, Scotty,” laughed -Roderick. “What Major Buell Hampton suggests to you is most excellent -advice, and I think you had better accept the offer. This job will give -you a home, and you will work in the printing office. You will soon -learn to read books, and also you will become a typesetter which, as -Major Hampton told you, is a practical education within itself and will -lead to better things and greater things along educational lines. Of -course, it may be some time before that knock on your head gets all -right.” - -“Oh, don’t worry about my old bean,” said Scotty with a smile, as -he touched the bandage that encircled his cranium. - -Finally Scotty said he believed he would like to try the new job. “You -know, I’ve been knocked ‘round over the world an’ kicked an’ -thumped an’ had my ears cuffed an’ my shins barked so much that -I don’t hardly know what to make uv you fellers. If I was sure you -wasn’t stringin’ me an’ really meant it all as a kindness, why, -I’ll be goshdamed if I wouldn’t git up out o’ bed this minute -an’ start for Dillon. That’s what I’d do. I ain’t no piker.” - -This speech was very amusing to Grant Jones; and he assured the injured -boy that he himself was not going over to Dillon for perhaps a week, -by which time if he were attentive to the instructions of the doctor he -probably would be able to accompany him. - -“I’ll take you over,” said Grant, “and we’ll batch it together -so far as a place to sleep is concerned in the printing office. There -is a good boarding house just across the street where you can get your -meals.” - -“Who’s goin’ ter pay for them?” asked Scotty. “I ain’t got -any money.” - -“That,” said Roderick, “is what Major Buell Hampton is going to do -for you. Not only will he pay your board for one year until your work -is worth wages in the printing office, but he will also get you some -new clothes and a new pair of shoes and rig you out in good shape, old -man.” - -“Gee, but you’re good to me, Major Hampton, and Warfield too. Yer -ought ter cuff my ears instead uv bein’ so all-fired kind.” - -With this the loveless boy turned towards the wall and covered his -face. Both Major Hampton and Grant, as well as Roderick, were noticeably -affected, and the three walked over toward the window while Scotty was -collecting himself. - -“I say,” said Grant, sotto voce, “in the language of Jim Rankin, -the worst that poor little devil will get—if he goes with me—will be -the best of it.” - -Then the visitors turned round to say good-by. The invalid had had about -enough excitement for one day. - -Just as they were departing, Scotty beckoned Roderick to his side. - -“Stop a minute or two with me—alone,” he whispered. “I wants ter -tell you somethin’.” - -Roderick excused himself to the others; he would join them on the porch -presently. - -Scotty’s face wore a keen eager look. - -“Say, if I helps you,” he began, “I’ll be doin’ a good turn, -won’t I, to the girl that saved my life by hurryin’ me along to this -‘orspital here?” - -“I believe she will count it as a favor,” replied Roderick. “How -can you help me, Scotty?” - -“An’ I’ll be doin’ you a favor,” continued the lad, without -answering the direct question, “if I do a good turn to your friend -with the name that reminds me of Bull Durham terbaccer?” - -“Buell Hampton,” laughed Roderick. - -“The Major you also call him. Wal, I can drop him a word o’ -warnin’ too.” - -“Oh, he has never a thought about love affairs,” replied Roderick, -smiling. - -“But this is a warnin’ of another kind. Listen.” And Scotty drew -himself up to a sitting posture on the bed. “Come nearer.” - -Roderick complied; his ear was close to Scotty’s lips. The cowboy -spoke in a whisper. - -“The Major’s got a pile o’ rich ore stored in his house. There’s -a bunch o’ fellers agoin’ to get it, an’ they’ll shoot to kill -as sure as God made hell.” - -Roderick mastered his emotion of surprise. - -“When is this to take place, Scotty?” he asked quietly. - -“Any night after tonight. Tonight they’ve fixed to square accounts -with some sheep herders over Jack Creek way. Then they’re goin’ for -the Major.” - -Roderick gripped the other’s hand. - -“Scotty, you have done me the biggest service in the world,” he said -earnestly. “But one thing more—who are these men?” - -“I dassn’t tell. They’d plug me full o’ holes the moment I got -out o’ here.” - -Roderick felt perplexed. He did not like to press for information that -might seem to threaten danger for Scotty himself. - -The latter was watching his face furtively. - -“I know you’re straight—you’ll never give a feller like me away -if I tell you one name.” - -“Never. You may stake your life on that.” - -“Wal, I don’t care what happens to him anyway. He’s a bad egg—a -rotten bad egg clean through. And I’m done with him from now right -on. I’m goin’ to take that printin’ devil’s job and act on the -square.” - -“That’s right, Scotty. And we’ll all help you to get clear of bad -companions and bad influences. So it’s all right for you to give me -that name.” - -“An’ she’ll be pleased too, won’t she, that Holden young -lady?” - -“She’ll be always grateful to you for saving Buell Hampton.” - -“That’s ‘nuff for me. The leader o’ that gang is—” - -Scotty paused a moment; Roderick waited, silent and still. - -“Bud Bledsoe,” whispered the lad. “Now I’ve stopped hatin’ -you, I’ve sort o’ turned to hatin’ him and all his kind. But -you’ll not give me away, Warfield? I wants ter hold down that -printin’ job—that editor feller will make a man of me, that’s just -how I feel.” - -“And just as we all feel,” said Roderick. “Now, Scotty, you must -lie down. Let me fix your pillow for you. You’ve got some fever yet, I -can see. You must rest, old fellow. You look tired.” - -“Yes; I’m doggoned tired,” murmured the lad wearily, as he sank -back on the pillow and closed his eyes. - -“He is sleeping now, I think,” said Roderick to the nurse as he -passed quietly out of the ward. - - - - -CHAPTER XXII.—THE TRAGEDY AT JACK CREEK - -AFTER a brief consultation on the hospital veranda, Buell Hampton, -Roderick and Grant decided on an immediate consultation with Jim Rankin. -They found the ex-sheriff busy among the horses down at the brush stable -over the hill from the Major’s home. - -Jim received the startling news with great complacency. - -“I’ve been expectin’ tumultuous news o’ this kind for quite -a while,” he said. “Oh, I’m up to all the didoes o’ both the -cowpunchers and the sheep herders. Never mind how I got to know them -things. I just know ‘em, and that’s ‘nuff said, good and plenty, -for all present. If the cowpunchers are going to Jack Creek tonight, -there will be hell a-poppin’.” - -“Not murder, surely?” exclaimed Roderick. - -“Wal, there’s no sayin’ how them things end,” replied Jim. -“You see it’s this way. The cowpunchers claim they’re afeard the -sheep’ll cross over Jack Creek, an’ they’ll go armed with great -big clubs as well as shootin’ irons. They’ll undertake, I’m -‘lowin’, ter kill with their dubs a whole lot o’ sheep, maybe the -hull kit an’ bilin’ uv ‘em, shoot up the mess wagons where the -sheep herders are sleepin’, an’ the chances are nine outer ten that -they’ll kill the herders an’ then jist nachur’ly burn the wagons -an’ the corpses, kill the shepherd dogs too an’ throw them on -ter the fire and generally do a hellish piece uv intimidatin’ work. -They’ll burn the wagons ter hide evidence uv their guilt. You bet -they’ll git keerless with their artillery.” - -“Good God!” murmured Roderick in horror and surprise. - -“We must stop this murderous business,” remarked Buell Hampton. - -“And get hold of Bud Bledsoe before he can do further harm,” -suggested Grant Jones. “Let’s hunt up the sheriff.” - -“Now, just go slow, g’nlemen, please,” replied Jim, expectorating -an inconvenient mouthful of tobacco juice and wiping his lips with the -back of his hand. “Jist you leave this business to me. I’ve been -prognosticatin’ trouble for months back, an’ know jist how to act. -No sheriff is wanted—at least not the bum sheriff we’ve got at the -present time. He needs no warnin’ from us—mark my words. And even if -he didn’t chance to know what we might be tellin’ him, when he -did know, it would be his pertic’lar business to arrive after the -killin’—that’s politics. Do you git me, Major?” - -“I’m afraid I get you all right, Jim,” replied Buell Hampton -gravely. - -“Well, let us go and see Ben Bragdon,” proposed Roderick. - -“Not on your life,” replied Jim excitedly. “Hell, man, he’s the -attorney fur the cattle fellers.” - -“He is a gentleman,” exclaimed Roderick, “and if he is the -attorney for the cow men, so much the better. He would advise the bosses -of this contemplated lawbreaking raid and murder, and of course they -would immediately take steps to keep the cowboys from committing such -wickedness.” - -Jim Rankin’s black eyes fairly snapped as he looked Roderick straight -in the face and exclaimed: “Roderick, are yer as big a tenderfoot as -that? Don’t yer know the cowboys don’t go out murderin’ uv their -own accord on these here cut-throat raids? They go, by gunnies, ‘cause -they’re paid by the higher ups ter do these dastardly killin’ -acts. Why, gosh ‘lmighty, Ben Bragdon draws a monthly retainer fee uv -several figures ter protect the higher ups an’ there yer are, plain as -a handle on a gourd. No, by gunnies, while the Major and Mr. Jones keep -guard here, you an’ me, Roderick, will have ter go alone an’ jist -nachurally take the law into our own hands. We’ll have plenty uv -shootin’ irons an’ loco the cowboys by shootin’ an’ wingin’ -two or three uv ‘em, Bud Bledsoe in pertic’lar. Oh, you bet I know -how to do this job,” and he chuckled reassuringly. - -“Well, I don’t,” replied Roderick. “I don’t pretend to know -these cold-blooded murdering ways of the West or anything of this -lawless feud that is going on between the cattlemen and the sheep men. -However, I will go with you, Jim. When shall we start?” - -“Immediately after supper. There’s no moon and it looks a little -squally. It will be darker than a stack of black cats, but by gunnies, -I know the way. All you’ve got to do is to have yer shootin’ irons -ready, follow me and shoot when I shoot Now I guess there’s no need -my onbosomin’ myself any more,” he added with a comprehensive glance -around. - -Roderick was unable to repress a smile. - -“All right, Jim, I’m game, and ready for the lark.” - -“By gunnies, it ain’t no lark howsumever; I know yer game,” -replied Rankin. “You bet I kin tell a scrapper when I see him. Now -not a word to anyone else besides us four—exceptin’ of course, Boney -Earnest I’m goin’ over to the smelter right now, and will arrange -for him to be here tonight to help the Major.” - -“And Tom Sun?” asked Roderick, anxiously. - -“Oh, he’s in no danger. Them fellers are after his herders but not -after the big man. They know better—the law would be poppin’ -like hell if they ever made the mistake o’ hurtin’ one o’ the -higher-ups.” - -“Besides, Mr. Sun is at Rawlins today on business,” observed Buell -Hampton. “He is riding, and is to come straight here. But he told me -not to expect him until midnight.” - -“Which the cowpunching gang know quite well,” said Jim emphatically. -“You bet they are playin’ up tonight jist because they cal’clate -on his absence. Now we’ll be a-movin’. Major, get your rifles well -oiled—you may need ‘em. My ridin’ hoss is over at the livery barn, -and you an’ me, Roderick, will start from there at eight o’clock -sharp. Oh, you bet we’ll have tumultuous doin’s. Jist you an’ me -‘ll show these killin’ cusses they’re holdin’ bob-tailed flushes -fur oncet. They won’t show up here for the gold ore after we’re -through with ‘em. Reminds me uv the old sheriff days, boys. An’ its -‘lmighty good to be back to them,” he added, pushing his hat back on -his head determinedly. - -“I think we must put you up for sheriff again next election,” -laughed Grant Jones. - -“That’s just what I’m prognosticatin’,” replied the rugged -old frontiersman, with a grim smile. “Folks will see who’s the -real sheriff tonight—me or that white-livered double-dealin’ cur. -Mills.” And he strode away in the direction of the smelting plant, -chewing his tobacco cud vigorously. - -At the appointed hour that night Roderick was at the livery barn, and -got ready his faithful horse, Badger. He had only waited a few minutes -when Jim Rankin made his appearance. They were soon in their saddles and -headed for Jack Creek. - -The night was very dark, and despite the would-be sheriff’s vaunted -knowledge of the country they lost themselves several times, and on one -occasion had to retrace their steps four or five miles. Wherever it was -possible they urged their horses on as rapidly as was prudent, but often -for long distances it was a case of picking their way at a walking pace -through the inky blackness. It was within an hour of midnight when at -last they turned from the main road to the westward along the north bank -of Jack Creek, which was the dividing line between the flockmasters’ -and the cattle men’s range. Rankin explained that the bands of sheep -were being held about two miles on to the westward. - -They had not gone very far up the creek when they were startled by the -sight of two great fires burning like haystacks. They spurred their -horses and hurried as fast as possible over the uncertain and little -used road, and soon came upon a weird and terrible scene. Some three -or four hundred sheep had been clubbed to death and lay like scattered -boulders over the ground, while the two covered wagons where the herders -cooked their meals and likewise slept were fast burning to ashes. - -“By gunnies,” said Jim Rankin, “we didn’t get here quick enough. -They’ve sure done their hellish work. I’ll bet there’s two sheep -herders an’ two shepherd dogs bumin’ to cinders in them there fires. -It’s hell, ain’t it? They beat us to it for sure. But usually -them doin’s don’t come off ‘til one or two o’clock in the -mornin’.” - -“Where are the balance of the sheep?” inquired Roderick. “I -thought you said there were several thousand.” - -“Why, boy,” said Jim, “they’re chasin’ down toward Saratoga as -if the wolves were after them. There’s ‘bout three thousand sheep in -each band an’ there were two bands uv ‘em.” - -Just then four masked men rode up out of the darkness toward the burning -outfits, but quickly checked their horses when they saw the two mounted -strangers. - -“Don’t shoot, Roderick, don’t shoot,” whispered Jim. “By -gunnies, they’ve got us covered. Don’t lift your artillery. -They’ll kill us sure if yer do.” Then he raised his trembling voice -in a shout: “Hey, you fellers, we seed somethin’ burnin’ here. -Wonder what ‘tis?” - -A deep guttural voice came back: “You two ‘ll find it a dam sight -more healthy to git back on the main road an’ tend to your own -business. You have got jist one minute to start.” - -“Come on,” said Jim, agitatedly, whirling his horse, putting spurs -to him and leaving Roderick trailing far behind. - -Roderick rode along toward the main road which they had just left after -crossing over Jack Creek. He was disgusted with it all and with Jim -Rankin’s poltroonery in particular. The sight he had seen by the -gleaming light of the burning wagons was ghastly. The innocent, helpless -sheep that had been clubbed to death through the selfishness of men. He -was in no mood for hilarity. It was a sight that would remain with him -and haunt him. Then too, he had received a new measure of Jim Rankin. - -But Roderick Warfield had all the blind audacity of youth and did not -give the old westerner Jim Rankin the credit he deserved. Jim Rankin was -versed in the ways of these western transgressors, and knew the price he -and Roderick would have to pay for “butting in” on a quarrel between -the cattle and the sheep men that was no direct concern of outsiders. -This price was death, swift and merciless. - -When Roderick reached the highway he pulled his horse to the right -toward the bridge that spanned Jack Creek. As he approached the bridge -he heard someone say: “Here he comes now.” The voice was not Jim -Rankin’s. - -“Hello,” came a call in yet another voice, just as his horse reached -the bridge. - -“Come on, Roderick,” cried Jim Rankin, “I’m here.” - -“Who’s with you?” inquired Roderick. - -“They’ll tell you,” replied Jim. - -Roderick rode up and found three men with drawn revolvers, and one of -them proved to be the sheriff of the county and the others his deputies. - -“Gentlemen,” said the sheriff, “you are accused of killing a lot -of sheep up here on Jack Creek and burning a couple of wagons, and I -arrest you in the name of the law.” - -“What does this mean?” inquired Roderick, hotly. - -“It means,” said the sheriff, “you fellers will fork over your -shootin’ irons quietly and submit to being handcuffed.” - -“Look here, Mills,” said Rankin, resentfully, “you’re goin’ -too dangnation far, by gunnies. I’ll be responsible for young -Warfield, here. I’ll go his bail. Dangnation, don’t press me any -furder or I’ll git peevish.” - -“Well,” replied Sheriff Mills, hesitatingly, “who will be -responsible for you?” - -“Why, Gosh’lmighty, Mills, we’ve know’d each other fur -twenty-five years. You go my security yourself or by the great horn -spoon you’ll not kerry Rawlins precinct next election.” - -“Watch that young feller,” instructed the sheriff to his deputies. -“Ride over this way, Jim, where we can speak privately.” - -A few moments later Rankin called out: “Come on, Roderick, let’s -be goin’. It’s gettin’ late. Everything’s all right.” And -together they headed their horses for Encampment and rode on in the -darkness. - -Jim Rankin presently said: “Well, by gunnies, Tom Sun has leastways -got to hand it to us fur tryin’.” - -Roderick made no immediate reply and they continued their way in -silence. - -At last Roderick spoke. - -“You were mighty friendly with that white-livered, double-dealing cur, -the sheriff—that’s what you called him a few hours ago.” - -“Yes, but he wasn’t present with a gun in his hand,” replied Jim. -“He sure ‘nuff had the drop on us.” - -“How did you square him then?” - -“Politics,” came the sententious answer. “And I guess I put one -over him at that. Somebody’s goin’ to git a dangnation throw-down, -an’ don’t you forgit it.” - -An hour later they descended at the livery barn. The sky had cleared, -and they had ridden fast under the starlight. Roderick looked the -ex-sheriff squarely in the face. - -“Now, Jim Rankin, the next move in the game is going to be mine. Get -your three fours hitched up at once, and bring them down one by one as -fast as they are ready, to the Major’s. We load that ore tonight, and -start for the railroad before daylight. Do you get me, my friend?” - -Jim Rankin for a moment looked into Roderick’s eyes. - -“I guess I git you, Mr. Warfield,” he replied, as he meekly turned -away toward the stables where the twelve powerful draught horses had -been held in preparedness for a week past. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII.—THE FIGHT ON THE ROAD - -DAYLIGHT had not yet broken when the three four-horse wagons were loaded -and ready for the road. Not a moment had been lost after Roderick’s -arrival at the Major’s. That night he had had a grim glimpse of what -western lawlessness among the mountains might mean, and had speedily -convinced the Major that his policy of instant departure was the wise -one. Bud Bledsoe and his gang would rest at least one day, perhaps two -or three days, after their devilish exploit with the sheep-herders, and -when they came reconnoitering around the blockhouse in which the ore -was stored it would be to find the rich treasure gone. The teams by -that time would be at Walcott, or at least well on the way to their -destination. - -The little bunch of friends had set to work with a will. Jim Rankin got -the first team down within half an hour, and by that time the Major, Tom -Sun, who had duly turned up from Rawlins, Boney Earnest, Grant Jones and -Roderick had a goodly pile of the one-hundred-pound ore sacks stacked in -front of the house, ready to be lifted into the wagon. Without a hitch -or delay the work proceeded, and now that the loading was completed, and -the rifles and ammunition had been stowed under the drivers’ seats, -the tension of suppressed excitement was relaxed. Pipes were alight -during a final consultation. - -The three tough old westerners, it was settled, were to drive. Boney had -announced his absolute determination to come along—the smelter could -go to blazes, he had applied some days before for a week’s leave -anyways and if W. B. Grady chose to buck because he took it now, well -he could “buck good and plenty, and be damned to him.” Tom Sun was -keeping in stern repression his wrath against the miscreants who had -massacred his sheep and probably killed his herders as well; it would -be stern satisfaction for him to have a fight on the road, to settle -accounts with Bud Bledsoe by the agency of a rifle bullet. Jim Rankin, -after his quiet taking-down by Roderick at the livery stable, had -recovered his accustomed self-assurance and bellicosity, and was -“prognosticating” all manner of valorous deeds once it came to guns -out on both sides and fair shooting. - -While these three would manage the teams, Buell Hampton, Grant and -Roderick would scout ahead on their riding horses, and provide a rear -guard as well so that the alarm of any attempted pursuit could be given. -Badger had been fed and rested, and looked fit for anything despite the -night’s ride to Jack Creek. - -Jumping into the saddle Roderick, accompanied by Grant Jones, who knew -the road well, led the way. The wagons followed, while the Major delayed -just long enough to lock up the house, including the now empty inner -chamber, and clear away the traces of the night’s work. The whole -cavalcade was three or four miles out of Encampment before the sun had -risen and the townsfolk were astir. - -The distance to be traversed was just fifty miles, and that night the -first camp was made beyond Saratoga. No public attention had been drawn -to the wagons; none of the people encountered on the road or at stopping -places had any reason to think that these ordinary looking ore-sacks -held gold that was worth a king’s ransom. There had been no signs of -ambushed robbers ahead nor of pursuit in the rear. But that night, while -a few hours of sleep were snatched, watch was kept in turn, while each -sleeper had his rifle close at hand. With the first glimmer of dawn the -journey was resumed. - -It was well on in the afternoon when the Major spied, some distance out -on the open country to the left, the dust raised by a small party of -horsemen. He rode up to the wagons to consult his friends. He had just -pointed out the sign to Jim Rankin, when the riders disappeared behind a -rocky ridge. - -Jim had been shading his eyes while gazing fixedly. He now dropped his -hand. - -“By gunnies, they are after us right enough,” he exclaimed. “That -was Bud Bledsoe in the lead—I know his ginger-colored pony. They’re -going to cross Pass Creek lower down, then they will swing around into -White Horse Canyon, coming back to meet us after we’ve crossed the -bridge and are on the long steep hill just beyond. Dang me if that -ain’t their game.” - -The Major rode ahead to warn Grant and Roderick. The bridge over Pass -Creek was only three miles from Walcott. If the three scouts could -gain the crest of the steep slope, before the robbers, the advantage of -position would be theirs. - -Roderick grasped the plan of campaign in an instant, and, digging his -spurs into Badger’s flank, galloped off full pelt. Grant and the Major -followed at the best pace of their less mettled ponies. - -It was less than a mile to the bridge, and Badger was soon breasting -the hill at a swinging canter. Just before reaching the summit Roderick -descended, and throwing the bridle over the pony’s head tethered it in -cowboy fashion. “I’ll be back in a minute, old fellow,” he said, -as he gave Badger an affectionate pat on the neck. Then, rifle in hand, -he walked up the remaining few yards of the slope, and cautiously peered -over the crest into White Horse Canyon. - -Great Scott! seven or eight horsemen away down at the foot of the -descending incline were just scrambling out of the waste of cacti -and joshuas on to the roadway! The first comers were waiting for the -stragglers, and a pow-wow was evidently being held. Roderick gripped -the butt of his rifle. But he heard the clatter of hoofs behind him, and -drew back for the time being. Waving a cautioning hand to Buell Hampton -and Grant as they approached, he gave the news in a few words. It -took only a minute to tie all three horses securely to the low-growing -grease-wood that here skirted the road—the animals, although -well-trained, might be stampeded by the shooting. Then, rifles in hand, -Roderick, Grant and the Major crept up to the crest of the ridge. Before -reaching it the sharp tattoo of horse hoofs smote their ears. - -“That’s Bud Bledsoe in the lead on the ginger pony,” exclaimed -Buell Hampton. - -Nothing more was needed by Roderick; if Bud Bledsoe was there, the gang -were lawbreakers and bent on further villainy. - -“Bang!” went Roderick’s rifle; and the ginger-colored horse -plunged forward on his knees, and then rolled over, kicking wildly in -the air. Two horses behind stumbled over the obstruction, and instantly -there was a confused heap of struggling beasts and men. Four other -riders had reined in their steeds just in time, and were standing -stock-still on the highway. - -“Keep it up, but don’t kill,” muttered the Major, just before he -fired his own rifle. Almost at the same instant came “bang” from -Grant’s shoulder, and a second shot by Roderick. - -At this fusillade the four cowboys still mounted jumped their horses -into the sage brush and cacti and were gone like a streak across -country. One of the fallen horses had struggled to its feet, and a -figure leaped into the saddle. It was Bud Bledsoe—Roderick knew him by -his gorilla-like figure. Leaving his two fallen comrades to their -fate, the leader raced after the fleeing quartette. Three rifle bullets -whizzed past him to quicken his pace. Then the marksmen on the ridge -stood erect. - -Two motionless human figures lay on the road at the bottom of the hill; -the ginger horse had rolled in among the bushes in his death throes, the -other was limping along with a broken leg. Roderick ran down the slope -on foot, leaving the others to follow with the horses. - -The first man he reached was dead, his neck broken by the fall. Roderick -recognized him at a glance—for when once riding the range with a bunch -of cowboys they had passed a lone rider on a mountain trail and the name -had been passed around—Butch Cassidy, a horse rustler, and an outlaw -of the hills. The other fellow was bleeding from a wound in his breast; -there was a gulping gurgle in his throat. He had evidently been hit by -Grant’s first bullet, which had been fired too quick for any heed -to be paid to Buell Hampton’s merciful injunction. Just as Roderick -raised the limp hand the wounded man opened his eyes; then he uttered -one great sob and died. - -A few minutes later bullets from Grant’s revolver put the injured -horses out of pain. - -In the dusk of the falling night the dead men were borne on the ore -wagons into Walcott. The station agent recognized the second corpse -as that of a notorious gambler and hold-up artist, an old associate of -Big-Nosed George in early days. The railroad man treated the bodies as -trash, but condescended to wire down the line for the coroner and the -sheriff. The car, which had been ordered several days before, was on -the side track awaiting the ore shippers, and he counselled that there -should be no delay in loading, as a through freight for Denver was due -shortly after midnight. So the fight was forgotten, and the work of -transferring the ore sacks from the wagons was soon in progress, all -present, even the Major, lending a hand. - -After the task had been completed, the bill of lading prepared and all -charges prepaid, Jim Rankin, Boney Earnest, Tom Sun and Grant Jones -boarded the car. They were well provided with blankets for bedding -and still carried their rifles. Buell Hampton and Roderick remained to -arrange for the sending back of the teams and saddle horses; they would -follow on the morning passenger train, and the whole party would reach -Denver practically at the same hour next night. - -No further incident occurred. But not until the carload of ore had -been duly delivered, sampled, and weighed did the four faithful and -well-armed guards relax their vigilance. The purchasers were the -Globe Smelter Company, with whose manager Boney Earnest had personal -acquaintance. - -While secrecy was exercised concerning this remarkable ore shipment, -yet the news gradually crept out and it became known that something -phenomenal had occurred. The newspaper reporters hovered around the -Globe Smelter endeavoring to pick up a few crumbs of information. - -Buell Hampton and his friends were registered at the Brown Palace Hotel -where they had arranged for connecting rooms. Two days afterwards Buell -Hampton announced to his friends, in the privacy of his room, that the -returns were all he had anticipated. The money had been duly deposited -to his credit, and now he wrote checks running into five figures for -each of his friends, and admonished them separately and collectively to -deposit the money in some Denver bank to their individual credit, then -return to their Encampment homes and each continue his avocation as if -nothing had happened to improve their financial affairs. - -“As for myself,” said the Major, “I have a mission to perform, -and I probably will not return to Encampment for a matter of fifteen or -twenty days.” - -That night Major Hampton left for New York carrying with him certified -checks for a large sum of money, and on the following morning the -others took train for Wyoming. Within a few days all had resumed their -accustomed routine. Jim Rankin was back on his stage coach making his -usual trips; Boney Earnest, after an acrimonious scrap with Grady over -the question of absence without leave, was in his old place before -the blast furnace; Tom Sun regained his home at Split Rock, north of -Rawlins, Grant Jones returned to his editorial duties, Roderick to his -preparations for a prospecting expedition. - -Both Grant and Roderick had brought with them checks for a few thousand -dollars, which they deposited in the local bank to the great surprise of -the cashier. And even before leaving the bank they began to realize -that their importance in the community had already gone up a hundred per -cent. Such is the prompt efficacy of a substantial bank balance! - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV—SUMMER DAYS - -WITHIN less than a year of his leaving Keokuk to play football with -the world, as Uncle Allen Miller had phrased it, Roderick Warfield had -established himself in a sound financial position. So far he had not -been made the “pig-skin” in life’s game. While he was filled -with grateful feeling toward Buell Hampton, and recognized the noble -generosity of his friend, he had at the same time the satisfaction of -feeling that he had done at least a little toward earning a share in the -proceeds derived from the carload of rich ore. And once he found his -own mine, his father’s mine, it would be his turn to follow the golden -rule and share liberally with those around him. - -When he had handed in the Denver check at the local bank, he had already -found a new deposit to his credit there—a sum of money to which he -had never given a thought from the moment it was won. This was the $450 -coming to him as the World’s Championship prize in the rough-riding -and outlaw-busting competition at the frontier celebration. It was with -intense delight that Roderick decided to apply this windfall to finally -clearing off his New York liabilities. He felt like walking even a bit -more erect than ever now that he would owe not a dollar in the world. -After luncheon he returned to the bank and secured eastern drafts. - -But there was a balance remaining, and Roderick at once thought of the -lad who had not only suffered defeat in the contest but injury as well. -Major Hampton had already undertaken the provision of clothes and other -outfit for Scotty Meisch. Roderick thought for a moment; then he walked -across to the Savings Bank and started an account in the cowboy’s name -with a credit of $100. He carried the little pass-book with him to the -hospital. - -He found Scotty reclining in a long chair on the veranda. The invalid -was convalescent, although looking pale from the unwonted confinement. -His face brightened with joy when Roderick, looking down with a pleasant -smile, patted him on the shoulder and gripped his hand. - -“Gee, but it’s good to see you again,” murmured the boy. “It -seems like a hell of a time since you were here. But I got the postcard -you sent me from Denver.” - -“Yes, Scotty, as I wrote you, Grant Jones and I, also the Major, have -all been to Denver. We were called away unexpectedly or would have paid -you a parting visit. But I’ve come around at once, you see. Grant -Jones and I got back only this afternoon. Mr. Jones is going to take you -over to Dillon next week. Meanwhile I have brought you this little book, -old fellow.” - -Scotty glanced at the pass-book, wonderingly and uncomprehendingly. He -turned it over and over. - -“An’ what’s this piece o’ leather goods for?” he asked. - -“That means you’ve got $100 to your credit in the Savings Bank, -Scotty—the consolation prize, you remember, in the broncho-busting -contest.” - -“Consolation prize be damned. There was no consolation prize.” - -“Oh, yes, there was.” - -“Not by a danged sight You’ve gone an’ done this, Warfield.” - -“Well, I got the big money, and hasn’t the winner the right to give -off a bit of it as a consolation prize? Just stuff that book in your -pocket, Scotty, and may the hundred dollars soon roll up to a thousand, -old fellow.” - -“Great guns, but you’re powerful kind to me—all of you,” -murmured the cowboy. There were tears in his eyes. - -“And by the way, Scotty,” continued Roderick, talking gaily, “that -reminds me, I’ve got to go across to Englehart’s store and take over -that grand championship saddle he was showing in his window—Banker -Buck Henry’s special prize, you remember. I had almost forgotten about -it. Why, it’s mine—stamped leather, solid silver mounts, and all the -gewgaw trimmings. How will I look riding the ranges with that sort of -outfit?” - -“You’ll look just grand,” exclaimed Scotty admiringly. “But you -won’t use that on the range. It will be your courtin’ outfit.” - -Scotty smiled wanly, while Roderick laughed in spite of himself. The -invalid felt emboldened. - -“Oh, she’s been over here every day during your absence,” he -continued. “Gee, but she’s pretty, and she’s kind! And let me tell -you somethin’ else. Barbara’s been a-visitin’ me too. Just think -o’ that.” - -“Ah, all the girls are good, Scotty—and Wyoming girls the best -of all,” he added enthusiastically. There was safety in the general -proposition. - -“Barbara an’ I has made it all up,” continued the lad, still -smiling, wistfully yet happily. “She’s dead stuck on that lawyer -chap, Bragdon, and we shook hands over it. I wished her luck, and -promised to vote for Bragdon at the election for state senator. An’ -what do you think she did when I told her that?” he asked, raising -himself in his chair. - -“She said ‘Bully for you,’ I bet,” replied Roderick. “She did -more. She kissed me—fair and square, she kissed me,” Scotty put -his finger-tips to his forehead. “Oh, only there,” he added, half -regretfully. “But I’ll never forget the touch of her lips, her sweet -breath in my face.” And he patted the spot on his brow in appreciative -reminiscence. - -“That’s politics, as Jim Rankin would say,” laughed Roderick, more -to himself than to the cowboy. - -“Wal, it’s the sort o’ politics I like,” replied Scotty. “If -she’d even only cuff my ears every time I voted, I’d be a repeater -for Bragdon at the polls.” - -“Well, we’ll both vote the Bragdon ticket, Scotty. A girl like -Barbara Shields is worth making happy, all the time. And later on, old -fellow, the proper girl will be coming along for you.” - -“Looks as if she was comin’ along for you right now,” grinned -Scotty, glancing toward the steps of the veranda. - -And a moment later Roderick was shaking hands with another hospital -visitor, gazing into Gail Holden’s blue eyes, and receiving her warm -words of greeting over his safe return. - -“We heard something about a fight near Walcott, you know, Mr. -Warfield—about a mysterious carload of ore. Two hold-up men were -killed, and your name was mentioned in connection with the affair. I -felt quite anxious until Mr. Meisch received his postcard from Denver. -But you never thought of writing to me,” she added, reproachfully. - -“I did not dare,” murmured Roderick in a low tone intended only for -her ears. - -But Scotty heard and Scotty saw. - -“This is the very hour the nurse says I’ve got to sleep,” he said. -“You’d better be clearin’ out, War-field.” - -“And me too?” asked Gail, laughingly. - -“The pair o’ you,” replied the invalid, as he lay back -languorously and closed his eyes. - -“I guess we’d better be going,” laughed Roderick. - -“Perhaps Mr. Meisch is awake enough yet,” said Gail, “to hear that -I brought over a chicken for his supper.” - -“Tell the nurse I’ll have it fried, please,” yawned Scotty, as, -without opening his eyes, he turned over his head in slumberous fashion. - -“Come away then, Miss Holden,” said Roderick. “I suppose you -rode over on Fleetfoot. I’ll saddle Badger, and we’ll have a gallop -across country.” - -“No doggoned politics there,” exclaimed the cowboy, awaking -suddenly, as he watched the handsome couple disappear. “That’s the -real thing, sure.” - -The summer days glided past. The Major had returned from New York and -had quietly resumed his old life of benevolence among the poor. But soon -there seemed to be no more poverty in or around Encampment. Roderick, -keeping the mining town as his headquarters, made a series of -expeditions into the mountains, systematically searching every range -and every known canyon. He would be absent for several days at a time, -sometimes with Jim Rankin for a companion, Grant Jones once or twice -accompanying him, but latterly with Boney Earnest as his fidus Achates. -For Boney had severed his connection finally with the Smelter Company, -after a quarrel with Grady that had ended in the blast furnace foreman -knocking his employer down. Such is the wonderful independence that -comes from a bank balance—even a secret bank balance that may not -command the deference accorded to known financial prosperity. - -Between his prospecting expeditions Roderick spent an occasional evening -either at the Conchshell Ranch or at the Major’s, with a flying call -now and then at the Shields home, especially when Grant was on one of -his periodical visits to Encampment. - -The month was now September. The rugged mountains still guarded their -secret, and Roderick was beginning to fear that the quest for his -father’s mine was indeed going to be a vain one. But there came an -interlude to his range-riding and gold-dreaming. The state conventions -were approaching. Even love became a minor matter to politics. The air -was surcharged with electricity. - - - - -CHAPTER XXV.—RUNNING FOR STATE SENATOR - -AT BREAKFAST table one morning Roderick noticed in the Encampment Herald -a featured article about the forthcoming Republican convention. - -“Oh, yes,” replied Grant, when Roderick called his attention to it, -“this convention trouble has been brewing for some time. Personally, -as you know, I am a Republican, even though my paper, the Dillon -Doublejack, is a dyed-in-the-wool Democratic organ.” - -“What trouble,” asked Roderick, “can there possibly be about a -county convention?” - -“It’s a senatorial convention,” explained Grant. “There is -an old saying,” he went on, “that every dog has his day. But -unfortunately politically speaking there are more dogs than days, -and when two or three contestants try to get in on the same day, why, -somebody is going to get bitten. There is only one state senatorial job -from this district but there may be half-a-dozen fellows who feel called -upon to offer themselves upon the political altar of their country.” - -“Have noticed a good many fellows down from the hills recently,” -replied Roderick. - -“Well, that’s politics,” said Grant. “They take a lay off from -their work in the hills—come down here to fill up on free political -whiskey furnished by the various candidates. Oh, take it from me,” -said Grant, looking wise and shaking his head, “these delegates are a -booze-fighting bunch for fair.” - -For a moment or two the journalistic oracle busied himself with his -toast and butter. - -“You watch the columns of my paper,” he resumed. “I’m going to -show up these whiskey drinking, habits of the delegates good and plenty -in this week’s issue of the Doublejack. In the language of Jim Rankin -I get a heap peevish with all this political foolishness. Still,” -Grant went on, “I presume it is a part of the political machinery -of the frontier. One thing,” he concluded, “we all become unduly -excited in these ante-convention days.” - -Political excitement had indeed waxed warm, and the little mining town -had seemingly ceased to think about its mines, its great smelting plant, -rich strikes in the hills and everything else—even the cattle men and -the sheep men appeared to have forgotten their feuds together with their -flocks and herds in the general excitement over the nomination for state -senator from southern Carbon County. - -Grant Jones in his Doublejack editorials made emphatic and urgent appeal -to the people to remember the doctrines of the old Simon-pure Jacksonian -democracy and agree upon a good Democratic nominee. With a split in the -Republican ranks the chances were never better for the election of a -Democratic senator. He pointed out that if Bragdon won the nomination -the Carlisle clique would secretly knife the Bragdon forces at the -polls by voting the Democratic ticket, and on the other hand if Carlisle -should best Bragdon in the nominating contest then the Bragdon following -would retaliate by supporting the Democratic nominee so as to defeat -Carlisle in the end. - -On the Republican side W. Henry Carlisle, the astute lawyer, was backed -by the smelter interests, while Ben Bragdon, the eloquent, was supported -by the antismelter forces generally and also by Earle Clemens, editor of -the Encampment Herald, one of the best known and most highly respected -party leaders in the state. - -The so-called smelter interests were certainly discredited because of -the domineering insolence of W. B. Grady and his unfair treatment of -the men. Not only did Grady practice every sort of injustice upon the -employees of the great smelting plant in all its various departments, -but he also quarreled with the ranchmen in the valley whenever he had -dealings with them even to the extent of buying a load of hay. - -As convention day approached there was a noticeable feeling of unrest -and nervousness. Factional strife was running at high tension. - -The wise men of the party said they could plainly see that unless -harmony in the Republican ranks obtained at the convention the nominee -would be defeated at the polls, and that if Ben Bragdon’s nomination -were insisted upon by his friends without in some way conciliating the -Carlisle faction the Democrats would be almost certain to win at the -following November’s elections. - -It was pretty generally conceded that Ben Bragdon, controlled the -numerical strength of the delegates, but the wiseacres would ask in -their solicitude: “Is it wisdom to take such a chance? Does it not -invite a split in the ranks of our party? In other words, does it not -mean defeat for the Republican candidate on election day?” - -Carlisle was a power to be reckoned with, and had a clannish, determined -following in political affairs, and although he and his friends might -be outnumbered and beaten in the nominating convention, yet what would -follow if Bragdon’s nomination were forced upon them? What would be -the result? Would not Carlisle’s following secretly slash the rival -they had been unable to defeat at the nominating convention? - -A “dark horse” seemingly was the only way out of the dilemma, and -the more conservative delegates insisted that Bragdon and his friends -must be brought to understand and recognize the possibilities of almost -certain defeat unless harmony could be insured; otherwise Bragdon must -be compelled to withdraw. - -Early in the morning before the day named for the senatorial convention -to assemble at Rawlins the delegates at Encampment and several hundred -friends of the respective candidates started overland for the convention -city. - -There were two roads from Encampment to Rawlins—one that branched off -from the so-called main road and went along the Platte River bottom. -The distance by either route was about sixty miles. Carlisle and his -following went one road, while Bragdon and his following traveled by the -other road, both arriving at the hotel in Rawlins at the same time with -panting horses. It was a mad race, each faction trying to show supremacy -over the other even at the cost of horseflesh. - -The delegates gathered in knots of three and four in the lobby of the -hotel, in the barroom and in the private rooms during the afternoon and -evening before convention day. - -The trains had arrived from the East and the West, and the delegates -from all over the senatorial district were present and ready for the -fray that was certain to come off the following day—indeed, Rawlins, -the county seat, was alive with politicians and the Ferris House, the -leading hotel of the place, was a beehive of activity. The Democratic -spectators were jubilant and made their headquarters at Wren’s saloon. - -It was at the Ferris House that W. Henry Carlisle had opened his -headquarters in opposition to Ben Bragdon. The Carlisle people said -they had no alternative candidate. Any one of a score of men might be -named in the district, each of whom would be satisfactory; in fact, -anyone excepting Ben Bragdon, provided, of course, it was found that -Carlisle could not be nominated, which they were far from conceding. - -Bragdon and Carlisle had often before locked horns in hotly contested -lawsuits up in the-hills, but in addition to their legal fights for -supremacy there had been one special controversy that had resulted in -a big financial loss for which each held the other responsible. It -involved a bitter fight over a mining claim wherein both Bragdon and -Carlisle had financial interests, and both had finally lost. It was a -rich property and had by decree of the courts been awarded to a third -party. But the decision did not lessen the feud. The impelling motive in -their political contest was not half so much, perhaps, for the honor of -being state senator as it was a consuming desire in the heart of each to -best and lick the other. - -Some of the delegates, even those who were inclined to be friendly to -Bragdon’s candidacy, acknowledged that seemingly he had made no effort -to pacify either Carlisle or his friends, and thus, in a way, had proven -himself deficient as a political leader and standard-bearer for the -party. - -Others claimed that a reconciliation was impossible, that the breach was -entirely too wide to be patched up at the eleventh hour. Still others -were of the opinion that if the Bragdon forces would concede the -chairmanship of the convention to Carlisle and his friends and thus -give substantial evidence of a desire to harmonize and be friendly, past -differences could be adjusted, with the result not only of Bragdon’s -nomination but his election as well. - -Those high in the leadership of the Bragdon forces laughed incredulously -and scorned to consider such a compromising surrender, and further -expressed their disbelief in the sincerity of Carlisle and his crowd -even if the Bragdon following were willing to make such a concession. - -“No,” said Big Phil Lee, Bragdon’s chief lieutenant, “I’m a -Kentucky Democrat, boys, as you all know, but in this fight I’m for -Bragdon—a Bragdon Republican—and we’ve got the whip-hand and by -the Eternal we will hold it. We Bragdon fellows have already agreed -upon a chairman and a secretary for both the temporary and permanent -organizations of tomorrow’s convention, and we have selected Charlie -Winter to name Bragdon in a nominating speech that will be so dangnation -eloquent—well, it will simply carry everybody off their feet. He is the -boy that can talk, you bet he is. Oh, you bet we’ve got ‘em licked, -Carlisle and all his cohorts. And let me tell you something else,” -continued Big Phil Lee, gesticulating, “we’ll hold them responsible -for the final result. If Brag-don’s not elected, it will be because -Carlisle and his gang knife him at the polls. Just let them do such a -dirty contemptible piece of political chicanery and they’ll be marked -men ever afterwards in this senatorial district, and not one of them -could be elected even to the office of dog pelter.” - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI.—UNEXPECTED POLITICAL HARMONY - -IT WAS just such talk as Big Phil Lee’s that kept the Bragdon forces -lined up and defiant to the point of an open rupture and a total -disregard for the minority, while the Democrats cheered Big Phil Lee’s -remarks with enthusiastic hoorays. - -The individual who really held the destiny of the party that year in -the hollow of his hand and within the next few hours proved himself the -Moses to lead all factions from the paths of bickering into the highway -of absolute harmony, was the newspaper man, Earle Clemens. All through -the evening hours the editor of the Herald had been a most eloquent -listener. He was on good terms with everybody, jovial and mixed with -all factions, and yet was scrupulously careful to avoid giving any -expression of advice or stating an opinion. He had, however, been very -outspoken in his editorial advocacy for harmony. - -Earle Clemens was not only known and respected all over the state as an -able newspaper man, but he was the possessor of a rich tenor voice that -had delighted many an audience up in the hills, and then, too, he had -composed the melody of the state song, entitled “Wyoming”—all of -which tended to his great popularity and powerful influence. - -While it was quite generally known that Clemens was perhaps closer in -his friendship for Bragdon than any other man in the district, dating -from way back when the generous-hearted young lawyer had helped Clemens -at a time and in a way that money could not buy or repay, yet the -editor of the Herald had all along insisted that unless the Bragdon -sympathizers effected a reconciliation with the Carlisle crowd, -it virtually meant, if Bragdon’s nomination were forced upon the -convention, a Democratic victory at the coming November election. - -In his last editorial, before the convention was to assemble, he had, -in reply to Democratic newspaper gibes about a high old row which was -likely to obtain at the oncoming Republican convention, branded the -writers one and all as political falsifiers. He boldly announced that -not a single discordant note would be heard when the Republican host -came to nominate its standard bearer, and furthermore that the choice -would be emphasized by a unanimous vote of the delegates. And in the -final event the Republican candidate, he declared, would be elected -by such an overwhelming popular vote that it would make the false -Democratic prophets and bolting Republican malcontents, if there were -any, “hunt the tall timber.” - -The Democratic press in reply had said that the editor of the Herald was -whistling to keep up his courage, and of course much amusement had been -caused by the spirited controversy. So when the eventful day arrived -fully as many Democrats journeyed to Rawlins to see the fun as there -were Republican delegates. Of course, as good Democrats, they lost -no opportunity to help embitter the two factions and widen the breach -between the Bragdon and the Carlisle forces. - -Editor Earle Clemens, however, had ideas of his own that he told to no -one. The electric light was shining in his room long after midnight and -his small hand typewriter, which he always carried in his grip, was busy -clicking away—presumably writing copy for the columns of his paper. -What really occurred however, was this: He wrote two letters on the -hotel stationery—one addressed to Hon. Ben Bragdon, and the other -addressed to Hon. W. Henry Carlisle, and the envelopes were marked -private. - -After the letters were duly typewritten, he placed an electric light -under a pane of glass with which he had provided himself, elevating -the glass by supporting the ends with a couple of books, and then from -letters that he had at some former time received from both aspirants -cleverly traced and signed the signature of W. Henry Carlisle to one -letter and in like manner signed the signature of Ben Bragdon to the -other letter—yes, brazen forgeries. - -After inclosing them in their respective envelopes, he stole softly out -into the hallway and slipped one under the door of Carlisle’s room and -the other under the door of Bragdon’s room. Then he went downstairs -and bribed the night clerk to call both Bragdon and Carlisle at sharp -fifteen minutes before six o’clock. This done, Clemens hastened back -to his own apartment for a few hours’ sleep, wondering as he disrobed -if the “end would justify the means.” - -“There is no question,” he said to himself as he climbed into the -bed, “but that the Republican ox is in the ditch and heroic measures -are necessary.” - -The following morning, when W. Henry Carlisle was awakened by the night -clerk calling out softly the hour of seven o’clock, he hastily arose -and began dressing, but before he had half finished he spied the letter -that had been pushed under his door. Picking it up, he broke the seal -and this is what he read: - -“My dear Carlisle:— - -“It probably requires more bravery to make an apology and to ask to be -forgiven than it does to settle differences between gentlemen by the now -antiquated ‘code.’ - -“I here and now tender my apologies for any unkind words I may in the -past have spoken derogatory to you, and as an evidence of my candor -will pledge you the support of myself and friends for both temporary and -permanent chairman at tomorrow’s convention, if you reciprocate this -offer of a reconciliation. - -“If you are big enough and broad enough and generous enough to accept -this overture and desire to bury all past differences and from now on -work in harmony together, each helping the other, as did Jonathan and -David of old, why, the opportunity is offered, and we will let bygones -be bygones. - -“If you accept this apology, meet me at the hotel bar early tomorrow -morning and merely extend your hand of friendship in greeting. I will -understand; but please do not humiliate me by mentioning the fact, even -to your best friends, that I have written this letter, and above all do -not refer to it at our meeting tomorrow morning or at any future time. -It is quite enough if these old differences are wiped off the slate -between you and myself without commenting, or permitting comments to be -made. I am not unmindful, Carlisle, that you are a great big able man -and I want you to be my friend, and I wish to be yours. You have the -power to make my nomination for state senator unanimous. - -“I have the honor of subscribing myself - -“Very sincerely yours, - -“Ben Bragdon.” - -Across the hall Ben Bragdon was also reading a letter, which was almost -a duplicate of the one that Carlisle was perusing, except that the -conditions were reversed. Carlisle, in his letter of apology, offered to -support Bragdon for the nomination, provided the hatchet was buried -and the Bragdon forces would support him for temporary and permanent -chairman. - -At the conclusion of the reading of these respective letters, each wore -an exultant look of mastery on his face. For the time being at least all -other differences were forgotten. In the hearts of both was the thought: -“It’s mighty decent of him; he really is a bigger man than I -thought.” - -Carlisle was the first man to leave his room and going quickly -downstairs passed hurriedly into the hotel bar, which at that early hour -was deserted except for the immaculate, white-aproned bartender. - -“What will it be this morning, Mr. Carlisle?” was the respectful -inquiry of the attendant. - -“Nothing just yet,” replied Carlisle, “I am waiting for a -friend.” - -A moment later Ben Bragdon came in, whereupon both of these skillful -politicians vied in meeting each other more than half-way and extending -the right hand of good fellowship in kindliest greetings. - -“Guess we’re a little early,” stammered Bragdon in a futile -attempt to appear at ease and free from embarrassment. They both laughed -a little, and Carlisle remarked that fortunately the bartender was at -his post even if the delegates were slow about getting started on the -day’s work. - -Just then the night clerk appeared and apologized for calling them so -early. “Don’t know how it happened,” he stammered, “but I made -a mistake of an hour. I called you gentlemen at six instead of seven. I -hope you’ll not—” - -“Oh, that’s all right,” exclaimed Bragdon and Carlisle in unison, -as they good-naturedly waved him aside with their assurance that they -were glad to be up and about. - -“A couple of Martini cocktails,” said Bragdon to the attendant. -The cocktails were soon before them and tossed off in a jiffy, with the -mutual salutation of “Here’s how.” - -“Come again, my man; make it half a dozen this time—three apiece,” -said Carlisle, laughing and throwing down a twenty dollar gold piece. -“Might as well have a good appetizer while we’re about it, and then -we’ll relish our breakfast, good or bad.” - -They chatted about the weather while the cocktails were being prepared. -Finally the cocktails were pushed along the bar counter, three in front -of each. - -“All right,” said Bragdon, as they each lifted a glass. “Here’s -to your good health!” - -“Thanks,” said Carlisle, “but since we have three cocktails apiece -before us, suppose we drink to the past, the present, and the future!” - -“Good!” replied Bragdon, beaming with approval. “Splendid idea -and happily put” He then ordered some of the highest priced cigars the -house afforded and insisted on Carlisle filling his pockets, while he -stowed away a goodly number himself. - -Soon after the fourth cocktail disappeared, they started for the -dining-room arm in arm, chatting away to one another like two old -cronies who had just met after a long separation. They found seats at a -table in a far corner and in their eagerness to say the right thing to -one another took no notice that a few of the delegates were already at -tables in different parts of the room. The delegates laid down their -knives and forks and looked toward Bragdon and Carlisle in astonishment. -Then they whispered among themselves, whereupon four or five left the -room quietly and hastened with all speed to carry word to the other -delegates, most of whom were still in their apartments. - -The news spread like wildfire, and a general scramble followed in -hurriedly dressing and rushing downstairs to witness with their own eyes -such an unexpected turn in political affairs between two men who had -been at daggers drawn. - -Within a very short time the dining-room was well filled with delegates, -but neither Bragdon nor Carlisle paid any attention; nor were they -seemingly conscious that all eyes were turned upon them. Each was -felicitating himself on the turn of events. Then, too, their amiability, -as well as their appetites, had no doubt been whetted into keenest -activity by the cocktails. - -Ben Bragdon, after breakfast, gave orders that the Hon. W. Henry -Carlisle was to be made both temporary and permanent chairman, and -Carlisle likewise announced that the Hon. Ben Bragdon was to be -nominated as senatorial candidate by acclamation; and each issued his -instructions in such a matter-of-fact, yet stubbornly blunt fashion, -that no one offered any objection or asked any questions. - -The delegates looked at each other, nudged one another in the ribs -and indulged in many a sly wink of suppressed amusement. But they all -quickly recognized the political advantage insured by a coalition of the -Bragdon and Carlisle forces, and the utter dismay this would cause in -the camp of the Democrats. Therefore they all became “programme” men -and took their orders meekly. So when the convention finally met and -got down to business with Carlisle presiding, it at once proceeded to -nominate Ben Bragdon by a unanimous vote. - -Seemingly everybody cheered on the slightest provocation and everybody -was in excellent good nature, and after the convention had completed -its labors and adjourned, it was conceded to have been one of the most -harmonious political gatherings ever held in the state. Thus was the -prediction of Earle Clemens, the newspaper scribe, fulfilled to the very -letter. - -The convention over, the delegates drifted back to the Ferris House and -not long after Big Phil Lee called at Clemens’ room. The editor was -picking away at his typewriter, preparing a report for the columns of -his paper. Grant Jones, Roderick Warfield, and two or three others were -in the room, smoking and talking. But Clemens paid no attention, so -intent was he on his work. Big Phil Lee, who without doubt had been -Bragdon’s loudest shouter, said: “Say, Clemens, I compliment you -on your prophetic editorials. I reckon you are writing another one. -You said the convention would be harmonious, and how in the demnition -bow-wows your prophecy happened to come true nobody knows. But it -did.” - -“Thanks,” replied Clemens, in his light-hearted jovial way, and then -looking out of the window for a moment, added: “I say, Lee, don’t it -beat hell what a little clever horse sense will accomplish at times in a -political convention?” - -“What do you mean by that?” asked Big Phil, quickly. “You seem to -be posted. By gad! I think it’s high time I was taken into the inner -councils myself and had the seemingly inexplainable made clear to me.” - -“Search me,” replied Clemens in a subdued voice, as he bit the tip -of another cigar and struck a match. “Neither Bragdon nor Carlisle has -invited me into any of their secret conferences.” - -Big Phil Lee looked a bit incredulous, shook his head in a nonplussed -sort of way and said: “Well, so long, boys. I’m goin’ down to the -hotel parlor where Bragdon is holding his reception. They are falling -over one another congratulating Carlisle about as much as they are -Bragdon.” - -As the door closed behind him, Clemens looked up from his typewriter and -said to Grant Jones, laughingly: “Say, Grant, remember what the Good -Book says?” - -“Says lots of things—what do you refer to?” asked Grant - -Clemens replied: “Blessed are the peacemakers.” - -Grant Jones came over close to him and said: “Look here, Clemens.” -And he fixed him with his eyes as if searching for an answer to that -which was veiled in mystery. But Clemens stood the ordeal and presently -Jones burst out laughing: “It’s all right, Clemens, the Herald has -sure put one over on the Doublejack this time. I don’t know how it -was done, and maybe I never will know. But take it from me, it was -clever—damned clever!” - -Clemens made no reply, but removing his cigar winked at Roderick -Warfield who was sitting near, puffed rings of smoke toward the ceiling -and afterwards whistled softly the air of “Wyoming,” the state -song, even while he smiled the smile of a knowledge that surpasses -understanding. - -Delegates and sightseers, Republicans and Democrats, who had journeyed -to see a hotly contested nomination, ostensibly for the state senate but -really for political supremacy, were good-natured and jovial when they -started on the return trip. Big Phil Lee shouted to Earle Gemens who was -on the other stage and said: “We are such a happy family, I presume we -will return on the same road instead of dividing and horse racing.” - -Clemens and the other returning passengers on the hurricane deck laughed -good-naturedly and said: “Sure, we will stick together from now on -and fight the Democrats.” Presently the crowd commenced -singing vigorously—if a bunch of discordant voices could be so -described—various popular airs of the day. - -That evening a reception was given Ben Bragdon at the hotel Bonhomme in -Encampment, and the affair was presided over by W. Henry Carlisle. It -was interpreted that the breach between these two attorneys had been -effectually healed to the discomfiture of the Democrats. But no one save -and except Earle Clemens knew how it had been brought about. - -Roderick Warfield slipped away early from the scene of jubilation, and -carried the glorious news to the Shields’ ranch that Ben Bragdon had -been unanimously nominated. Barbara, with the flush of radiant joy -on her face, could no longer deny the soft impeachment, and he boldly -congratulated her on her coming wedding to the senator-elect for -southern Wyoming. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVII.—THE UPLIFTING OF HUMANITY - -THE following evening Roderick called at the Major’s home, and found a -visitor there, a stranger yet very well known to him by reputation. This -was no other than the Reverend Stephen Grannon, the travelling -parson, of whose fame as a doer of good deeds at the cost of complete -self-sacrifice and self-denial, Roderick had often heard. - -“Delighted to see you, Roderick,” said the Major. “Come right in. -You know, of course, the most noted man in the camp—the man with the -saddle bags. What? Never met yet? Well, it is a great pleasure to me to -make you two acquainted.” - -After cordial greetings had been exchanged Major Hampton continued: -“We have just been discussing some of the great problems of humanity. -Pardon me, my dear friend, but I wish to say to Mr. Warfield that if I -were called upon today to name the greatest humanitarian with whom I am -acquainted I certainly should say—the Reverend Stephen Grannon.” - -“You do me too much honor,” interposed the parson hastily. “You -compliment me far too highly.” Major Hampton went on as if the -Reverend Stephen Grannon had made no interruption: “The school of -humanitarianism is small in number, but the combined results of their -labors directed through the channels of service in the behalf of -humanity bear the stamp of greatness. The sincere lover of his fellows -recognizes that the poor of this world have borne and are still bearing -the burdens of the race. The poor have built all the monuments along -the world’s highway of civilization. They have produced all the wealth -from the hills and from the soil The poor of the world have endured the -hardships of conquering the wilds and erecting outposts on the border -of civilization. Indeed they conquer everything except the fetters that -bind them and hold them as an asset of great corporate power that is -heartless and soulless and indifferent to the privations and sufferings -of the individual.” - -The Reverend Stephen Grannon gave it as his view that the mission of -a humanitarian was not to hinder the world’s progress, nor even to -prejudice anyone against the fortune gathering of the rich, but rather -to dispell the darkness of injustice and assist the great army of the -impoverished to a better understanding of their rights as well as their -powers to conquer the evils that have throughout the ages crept into and -clung to our civilization. - -“Poverty,” he remarked, “is the cause of much misery and often the -impelling motive to immorality and crime in many forms. Men often sell -and barter their votes and birthrights in this free country to bribe -givers—wily politicians—while our girls are not infrequently lured -into selling their very souls for ribbons and the gaudiness and shams of -the world.” - -“What is the cure?” asked Roderick, greatly interested. - -“The cure,” responded the preacher, “is the regeneration of -mankind through the leavening and uplifting power of the principles -taught by the humble humanitarian of Galilee, the great prince of -righteousness.” - -“Yes,” chimed in Major Hampton, “the Reverend Stephen Grannon has -given you the solution for the problem. Add to this a higher education. -The more highly educated the individual,” continued the Major, “the -greater the crime if they break the law.” - -“But,” said Roderick, “this is a free country and we have free -schools. Why do not the poor have a better education?” - -Reverend Grannon turned quickly to Roderick and replied: “You come -with me to the twenty-odd mining camps, Mr. Warfield, surrounding this -town of Encampment—come with me up in the hills where there are no -schools—see the little children growing up in carelessness because of -the impossibility on the part of their fathers and mothers to provide -them with school privileges. In the school room the teacher becomes the -overseer not alone of their studies but of their morals as well. Let -me take you down in the mines,” he continued, speaking with great -earnestness, “and see the boys from twelve years to twenty-one years -working day after day, many of them never having had school privileges -and therefore unable to read or write.” - -He paused for just a moment, then resumed: “It brings to my mind what -a very wise man once wrote. It was King Solomon, and among many other -splendid truths he said: ‘The rich man’s wealth is his strong city; -the destruction of the poor is their poverty.’” - -“Roderick,” said the Major as he lit his meerschaum and blew the -smoke towards the ceiling, “my heart is very light tonight, for I have -arranged with the assistance of the Reverend Stephen Grannon to help -relieve this lamentable situation in those mining camps up in the -mountains away from school privileges. I have recently taken the -matter up with the county commissioners and have agreed to build twenty -schoolhouses. Each schoolhouse will consist of two rooms. One will be -for the smaller children during the day and also to serve as a night -school for the young men and young women who are employed in manual -labor during working hours. The other room is a library sufficiently -large and spacious to accommodate the young men of each mining -community and thus keep them away from saloons, brothels, and prize ring -attractions. One hour each evening will be taken up by a reader and a -regular course of entertaining books will be read aloud in a serial way. -The books in the library will be loaned out on tickets and the usual -library rules observed.” - -“Splendid,” said Roderick, “that sounds practical to me.” - -“It is practical,” said the Reverend Stephen Grannon, “and thanks -to Major Buell Hampton this plan which I have cherished for so many -years will soon be put into effect.” - -Looking at his watch he turned to the Major and said: “By the way, -Major, I have a couple of poor families to visit tonight. I have -promised them, and they will be disappointed if I do not come.” He -arose as he said this. - -“My good friend,” replied Buell Hampton, “I am sorry you cannot -remain longer with us, but I would not keep you from your duties.” - -The Reverend Stephen Grannon put on his top coat, as the evenings were -growing chilly, and after shaking hands took his departure. - -When he was gone and the door closed, Major Hampton turned to Roderick -and holding up one hand said reverently: “Of such is the kingdom of -heaven. In all my lifetime, Roderick, I have never known another such -splendid character. I have closely observed his work ever since I came -to this camp. Perhaps in his entire lifetime he has not collected fifty -dollars in money. He says he does not want money.” - -“But he must have money to live on.” - -“Above all money considerations,” said the Major, looking into the -darkened corner of his living room, “he wants to save souls here -on this earth so that he will have more jewels in his crown over -yonder—these are his own words. There is not a family in the -surrounding country that he is not acquainted with. If there is sickness -he is the first one there. Where the greatest poverty abounds you will -find him. He goes out and solicits alms for those in distress, but keeps -nothing for himself excepting the frailest living. Go through the valley -or up in the mountain gorges or still farther up in the mining camps -where the snow never melts from the shady side of the log cabins, and -you will find this noble character, Reverend Stephen Grannon, doing his -good work for the poor—ministering to their wants and endeavoring -to lift humanity into higher walks, physically, morally, and -spiritually.” - -“I am glad you have told me all this,” replied Roderick. “It -increases my already high opinion of the parson.” - -“He is a veritable shepherd among the people,” continued Major -Hampton. “Reverend Grannon is the true flockmaster of Wyoming. The -people are frequently unruly, boisterous, intemperate and immoral, yet -he treats them with greatest consideration and seeks to persuade and -lead them away from their sins and transgressions. Yes, he is a great -flockmaster—he is well named The Flockmaster.” - -Both were silent for a few moments. Then the Major, as if suddenly -remembering something, looked up and said: “He tells me Scotty Meisch -is getting along fine over in the Dillon Doublejack printing office.” - -“I am glad to hear that,” exclaimed Roderick. “It is good to -have saved at least one lad from going the way of those outlaws of -Jack Creek. I have never forgotten that ghastly midnight scene—the -massacred sheep and the burning herders’ wagons.” - -“Well, what can you expect?” asked the Major. “When the social -waters are poisoned at the fountain head, the whole course of the stream -becomes pernicious. In this state of Wyoming the standard of political -decency is not high. The people have no real leaders to look up to. The -United States Senator, F. E. Greed, sets a pernicious example to the -rising generation. He violates laws in scores of instances because of -his greed and grafting proclivities, and his bribed supporters go -on year after year supporting him. What the state needs is a leader. -High-minded leaders are priceless. Their thoughts and their deeds are -the richest legacy to a state or a community. Great leaders are beacon -lights kindled upon the mountain peaks of the centuries, illuminating -the mental and moral atmosphere of civilization. The history of the -world—of a nation, of a state and of a community—is the story of -their epochal deeds, while man’s advancement is only the lengthened -shadow of their moral, spiritual and temporal examples. Leaders come up -from the crowd, from among the poor and the lowly. They are immediately -recognized by the great mass of the people and invariably crowned, -although sometimes it is a crown of thorns that they are compelled to -wear and endure for upholding priceless principles in their endeavor to -lead humanity to a higher plane. However,” concluded the Major, -“the world is growing better. The nimble-fingered, tilltapping, -porch-climbing derelicts in politics and commercialism are becoming -unpopular. The reprehensible methods in all avenues of life are being -condemned instead of condoned—the goats are being cast out from among -the sheep.” - -“You interest me very much, Major,” said Roderick. “Your ideals -are so high, your aims so decent and right, that it is a pleasure to -hear you talk. I am a firm believer,” Roderick went on, “in the -justice of the doctrine that all men are created free and equal.” - -“It is a sad commentary,” replied Major Hampton, “in this land -where liberty is cherished and our Government corner-stoned upon the -theory that all men are free and equal, that even the soberest of us are -compelled, my dear Roderick, to regard such affirmations as blasphemous. -To illustrate: An employee in one of the big manufacturing combinations -committed a burglary—almost petty larceny in its smallness—another -case of Jean Valjean stealing bread for his children—and yet he was -tried before an alleged court of justice and sent to the penitentiary -for ten years. The head of the same institution pillaged multiplied -millions from the poor in unjust and lawless extortions. When he was -caught red-handed in his lawbreaking, instead of sharing a prison cell -with the poor man our courts indulgently permitted this great highwayman -six months’ time in which to reorganize and have legalized his methods -of stealing.” - -“Such rank injustice,” exclaimed Roderick, “makes my blood tingle -with indignation. It is surely high time a determined crusade was led -against the privileged classes.” - -The Major made no reply but after a little, looking up from the open -grate and turning to Roderick, he asked him if he was aware that the -next day was the annual meeting of the stockholders of the Encampment -Mine and Smelting Company. - -“Oh, is it?” said Roderick. “Some time ago I noticed something in -the newspapers about the meeting, but as it was of no particular moment -to me I had forgotten it.” - -“Yes,” said Major Hampton, “and I guess I will now tell you that I -have been holding a secret from you.” - -“That so?” exclaimed Roderick questioningly. - -“You will remember,” the Major went on, “that I left you in Denver -after we made the big ore shipment and that I was away for three or four -weeks. Well, I went to New York, employed two or three big brokers down -on Wall Street, and commenced buying Encampment Mine and Smelter -Company stock on the exchange. Working jointly with a new friend I have -discovered, a professional man of finance yet a true friend of humanity, -I have absolute control of the stock today.” - -“You have?” exclaimed Roderick. “You own a control of the stock in -this great smelter and the Ferris-Haggerty mine?” - -“Yes, the whole enterprise is virtually in our ownership. Well, -something is going to happen tomorrow at the stockholders’ meeting -which I fear will not be pleasant to certain individuals. But duty -compels me to pursue a course I have mapped out. My chosen work in life -is to serve the poor, yet in trying to fulfill this mission I harbor no -resentful thoughts against the rich as a class nor do I intend for them -any unfair treatment.” - -“If the people only knew,” remarked Roderick, softly, “you are -without doubt one of the richest men in this part of the country and yet -you so honestly prefer the simple life.” - -“There are two kinds of rich people,” continued the Major. “One -class is arrogant and unfeeling; they hoard money by fair means or foul -for money’s sake and for the power it brings. The other class use -their wealth not to oppress but to relieve the worthy poor. Personally, -Warfield, I do not regard the money which accident has made mine as -being in any sense a personal possession. Rather do I hold it as a trust -fund. Of course I am grateful. The money enlarges my opportunity to do -things for my fellows that I wish to do.” - -The Major paused a moment, then resumed: “Do you remember, Roderick, -when I first told you, Jim Rankin and the others about my hidden mine -that I said there were six men in the world whom I held in highest -esteem?” - -“I remember well,” assented Roderick. - -“Well, five of you were present then—Tom Sun, Boney Earnest, -and Grant Jones, with yourself and Jim. For the absent sixth one I -specifically reserved a share in my prosperity, although at the time -I withheld his name. Now you know it He is the one entitled to most -consideration among us all—the Reverend Stephen Grannon.” - -“Of course he is,” concurred Roderick, with hearty conviction. “He -can do more good in the world than all the rest of us together, yourself -excepted, Major.” - -“At present, perhaps,” said Buell Hampton. “But let his shining -example be an incentive to you all—to us all. Well, in a confidential -way, I will tell you, Roderick, that when in New York I also purchased a -large block of bonds that yields an income of something like $20,000 per -year. This income I have legally turned over with proper writings to the -Reverend Stephen Grannon, and already I think you will discover a vast -improvement in the mining camps and throughout the valleys among the -poor. For Stephen Grannon is a godly man and a true humanitarian.” - -“My word, but that’s great—that’s grand!” murmured Roderick -with deep enthusiasm. And he gazed at Buell Hampton’s noble soul-lit -face admiringly. - -The Major rose to his feet—his usual method of intimating that he -wished to be alone. Roderick grasped his hand, and would have spoken -further, but Buell Hampton interrupted him. - -“Say no more, my dear boy. I am glad that you have been interested -in what I had to say tonight. The veil was lifted and you saw me as I -am—anxious to be of benefit to my fellows. I shall indeed be proud if -you find these doctrines not merely acceptable to yourself, but in some -degree at least stimulative in your acts toward the worthy poor and -lowly as the years come and go.” - -As Roderick walked slowly along the street deep in thought over Buell -Hampton’s words, he came suddenly upon W. B. Grady and several well -dressed strangers at a street corner. The visitors, he surmised, were -eastern directors of the big smelting company who had come to Encampment -for the stockholders’ meeting on the morrow. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVIII.—JUSTICE FOR THE WORKERS - -THE next morning at ten o’clock, Major Buell - -Hampton walked down to the smelter office. He was met at the door of -the directors’ room by the general manager, Mr. W. B. Grady. Despite a -bold front Grady looked careworn and anxious. - -“Hold on there,” he said as the Major started to enter. “What do -you want?” He spoke roughly. “This is a meeting of some gentlemen -who are interested in the Smelter.” - -“Very well,” said the Major. “I came down to attend the -stockholders’ meeting.” - -“Well, you can’t go in,” said Grady. “Stockholders’ meetings -of this company are private. We do not furnish entertainment and gossip -for onlookers like a justice of the peace court.” - -“That may all be true—I hope it is true, Mr. Grady,” said the -Major, and he looked him in the eyes with more of pity than of anger -depicted on his face. The crafty manager cringed before the critical -inspection. - -“I am here strictly on business,” continued Buell Hampton. “I am a -stockholder.” - -“You a stockholder in our Smelter Company?” - -“I have that honor,” replied the Major, tersely. “Or at least I -hold powers of attorney from the largest group of stockholders in your -company.” - -An ashen grey crept into Grady’s face. - -“What do you mean?” he faltered. “You are not a shareholder of -record on our books.” - -“No, but you will find as shareholders of record the names of Charles -T. Brown, George Edward Reed, Herbert Levy, Daniel W. Higbee, and a few -others about whom I need not bother.” - -A new light broke over Grady. He looked more sickly than ever. - -“These are recent purchasers of stock,” he said, “in New York and -also, if I remember rightly, in Iowa.” - -“Precisely, and together these buyers now hold the controlling -interest in your company. Here are the legal documents constituting -me the attorney for all these men.” He drew a neat little packet of -papers from the breast pocket of his coat. “In other words I am -these men—I hold the controlling power, although I did not choose to -disclose the fact until this morning. Now, will you please let me pass? -Thank you.” - -If a pistol had been thrust against the ribs of W. B. Grady, he could -not have looked more utterly scared. He had stepped aside to let the -Major pass and now bluff and bluster changed swiftly to sycophancy. - -“All right, Major Hampton,” he said, in his most ingratiating -manner. “Walk right in and let me introduce you to some of the other -stockholders. Of course, only a few of them are here.” - -The Major followed him into the directors’ room and was duly -presented. - -“This,” said Grady with patronizing suavity, “is an old fellow -townsman of ours here in Encampment and a friend of mine. Here, Major, -take this chair,” insisted Grady. “You see we are all a happy family -together.” - -Major Hampton could not but contrast the fawning manner of the general -manager before his superiors, the directors of the Company, with his -notoriously overbearing and insolent treatment of the workingmen. - -“Well,” said the chairman, “fortunately we have a very good -manager.” - -“Thank you,” said Grady with increased affability. - -“For myself, I am pleased and delighted at the general manager’s -report which I presume it will be in order now to have read. I think we -have all seen it in advance.” - -The Major shook his head in dissent but made no comment. - -Thereupon the meeting was called to order, and after the preliminaries -were concluded Mr. W. B. Grady proceeded to read a rather brief but very -interesting annual report. - -His report was not only a business summary of a most successful fiscal -year, but also abounded with more or less veiled laudations of himself -in his capacity of manager. - -Attorney Wm. Henry Carlisle, who combined with his legal position a seat -on the board of directors, advised that the election of a directorate -for the ensuing year was in order. By this time it was known to the -other shareholders present that Major Buell Hampton owned or represented -a control of the stock. This rather upset the cut-and-dried program. - -W. B. Grady, addressing the chairman, said that he presumed Major -Buell Hampton would appreciate being elected a member of the board of -directors, and if the Company’s attorney, Mr. Carlisle, did not object -perhaps it would be well for him to vacate his seat so as to make room -for the new incumbent. - -Carlisle’s face grew very red at this attempted slight but he said -nothing. - -Major Buell Hampton arose, and addressing the chairman said: “Since I -have acquired control of the stock of this Company, I have decided that -Mr. Grady shall not be re-elected as a director. But in the first place -I wish to ask of all stockholders present what their intentions are -regarding the declaring of a dividend?” - -With this he resumed his seat. - -By every lineament on Grady’s face one could see that he was furious. - -“I presume,” said the chairman, “that it would be proper to follow -the suggestion of Mr. Grady, our general manager, and declare a dividend -of seventy-two per cent on the capital stock.” - -Major Buell Hampton, again addressing the chair, remarked that -seventy-two per cent, was certainly a fat dividend. But for himself -he had purchased a control of the Company’s stock for the purpose of -introducing some innovations in its management, and in order that there -might be no misunderstanding he felt it was now proper to present his -views. If any of the directors were not in harmony, why, of course, it -would be inadvisable for them to stand for re-election to a directorate -over which he intended henceforth to exercise a close supervision. - -“I now wish to ask the directors of the Company this question,” -added the Major. “What about Boney Earnest’s dividend?” - -He paused for a reply. - -For a moment the stockholders and representatives of stockholders -present seemed almost dumfounded. They turned to the manager, Mr. Grady, -who answered the Major by saying he did not know that Boney Earnest, the -dismissed blast furnace foreman, was a stockholder or had any investment -in the concern—“it was all news to him,” he added with a weak -attempt at levity. - -Major Hampton had remained standing, and by silent consent all waited -for him to reply to this statement. - -“Yes, gentlemen,” he said quietly, “Boney Earnest may not be a -stockholder of record. But all the same he had his all invested in this -smelting plant. Day after day, during year after year, he stood before -the blast furnace, doing work of a class which few men could endure. It -is true he received a daily wage until the date of his dismissal, but he -had invested in addition to his daily duties almost a life-time of ripe -experience in the particular work he was doing for this concern. -In short, he had his all—his strength, his brain and his -experience—invested. In these circumstances I object,” continued -Major Hampton, “to a dividend of seventy-two per cent. I notice -from the manager’s report that he has made ample allowances for -betterments, replacements, and surplus, and even with all these very -proper provisions, the enormous possible dividend of seventy-two per -cent, still remains. An original capital stock of $500,000 and an annual -dividend of $360,000, certainly is a magnificent showing.” - -Buell Hampton paused and all present clapped their hands gleefully, as -if the Major was coming around to their way of thinking. - -After silence was restored he proceeded: “Money is worth probably -from five per cent, to six per cent, per annum on solid, non-hazardous -investments and at least double these figures or more on mining -investments which must be regarded as extremely hazardous. It is not, -however, worth seventy-two per cent. per annum. Therefore, gentlemen, -we will declare a dividend of six per cent, on the capital stock, which -will require $30,000. We will then add the capital stock to the pay -roll. The pay roll for the last year in round numbers is $1,100,000. The -capital stock is $500,000 or a total of both of $1,600,000. We will then -declare the remaining $330,000 of earnings into a dividend on the entire -$1,600,000 of capital stock and annual pay roll combined, which amounts -to a little over twenty per cent. This will give to the shareholders -of our company’s stock a little more than a twenty-six per cent, -dividend.” - -The Major sat down. Consternation was apparent on every countenance. - -“Major,” said one of the eastern directors, “may I ask you what -would happen and what you would do in carrying out your altruistic -dream if the earnings did not amount to even six per cent, on the money -actually invested?” - -The Major arose again and with great politeness replied: “Probably -we would not declare a dividend. If we had but $30,000 that could be -legitimately applied to dividend purposes, the amount would belong to -the stockholders. But anything above this preferred dividend to the -shareholders should be declared on the annual pay roll combined with -and added to the capital stock of the company, both classes of investors -participating in the surplus over and above six per cent, preferred -dividend. The question with me,” added the Major, “is this? How many -of you directors are in sympathy with the suggestion I have made?” - -There came no answer, and he continued: “A while ago I expressed -myself against your manager for a position on the directorate. I always -have a reason for my decisions. It has come to me,” continued the -Major, “that while the original cost of this plant may have been -$500,000 yet by the wicked manipulation of the ‘system’ the original -shareholders were completely frozen out—legally robbed if you please, -of their investment and it is quite probable the Pennsylvania crowd, the -present owners or at least those who were the owners before I purchased -a control, paid very little in real money but much in duplicity and -ripened experience in the ways of the fox and the jackal. I have learned -on excellent authority that Mr. W. B. Grady, by stealth and cunning, -secured the underlying bonds from one of the former builders of this -great plant, and robbed him and left him penniless in his old age. -Unless other means of restitution be devised, the reimbursing of those -stolen sums out of my private purse will be one of my first duties and -one of my greatest pleasures.” - -Grady rose, his face flushed with passion. But Buell Hampton waved -him down with his hand and calmly proceeded: “I will state another -innovation. There are seven directors who control the destinies of this -company. I now insist that the company’s attorney shall be instructed -to have the by-laws so amended that the head of each department, -beginning at the mine where we extract the ore, then the tramway which -carries the ore to the smelter and all the various departments in the -smelter including the converter—shall be elected annually by the -workers themselves in each of the seven departments. In this way there -will be seven foremen; and these seven foremen shall be officially -recognized by the amended by-laws of this company as an advisory board -of directors, entitled to sit and vote with the regular directors at -each monthly meeting and likewise with the stockholders in their annual -meeting.” - -Had a bomb-shell been thrown into the stockholders’ meeting greater -consternation could not have been evinced’. Finally Attorney Carlisle -moved that an adjournment be taken until ten o’clock the next day, at -which time the stockholders would re-assemble and further consider the -unexpected and doubtless vital questions now under consideration. The -motion prevailed. - -Of course the entire matter hinged first of all upon the election of -a directorate. During the adjournment Attorney Carlisle, peeved at -Grady’s readiness to drop him from the directorate, called on Major -Hampton and assured him he was in accord with the views he had expressed -and that his every suggestion could be legally complied with by amending -the by-laws. - -Buell Hampton, however, did not take the hint implied. He was courteous -but firm. The old régime had to go—the management must be changed, -lock, stock and barrel. Therefore there could be no further utilization -of Mr. Carlisle’s services as attorney for the company. Baffled and -discomfited the lawyer withdrew. He was full of indignation, not against -Major Hampton, but against Grady, for he had warned the latter against -selling a certain block of stock to part with which had jeopardized -control of the corporation. But Grady, in need of money, had replied -that there was no risk, the buying being sporadic and the existing -directorate in high favor with the stockholders because of its ability -and readiness to vote big dividends. - -Grady had little dreamed that already considerable blocks of the stock -had passed, under various names, into the control of the Keokuk banker, -Allen Miller, to whom he had some time before mortgaged his Mine and -Smelter Company bonds, and who had reasons of his own for displacing -Grady and crippling him still more badly in his finances. Nor had he -sensed the danger that the scattered sales of stock in the East had been -in reality for a single buyer, Major Buell Hampton. Therefore he had -been caught quite unprepared for the combination of forces that was able -now to throw him down and out at the first meeting of stockholders. For -once the fox had slept and had been caught napping in the short grass, -away from the tall timber. - -Carlisle had of late been too busy “doing politics,” and had allowed -matters to drift even though he had seen possible rocks ahead. Now the -two old-time confederates were blaming each other—Carlisle denouncing -Grady for parting with the stock control, Grady upbraiding Carlisle for -neglect in not having taken steps to discover who were the real buyers -of the shares being gradually transferred on the company’s stock -books. The blow, however, had fallen, and there was no means of blocking -the transfer of power into new hands. - -When the stockholders’ meeting reconvened the following morning, Major -Buell Hampton submitted the names of five men whom he desired on the -directorate. They were—Roderick Warfield, Grant Jones, Boney Earnest -and himself, together with Ben Bragdon, who would also take up the -duties of attorney for the company. This left only a couple of places -to be filled by the eastern stockholders. Two names from among the old -directors were offered and accepted. Indeed the selection of directors -became a unanimous affair, for seeing themselves utterly defeated both -Grady and Carlisle, glaring at each other, had left the room. - -Major Hampton’s views on corporations and dividends, and his new plan -of management for the Smelter Company spread all over the camp with -astonishing rapidity, and there was general rejoicing among the miners -and laborers. - -One employee in the smelter who had been with the company for some three -years made the discovery that, while he was receiving three dollars per -day, which meant an annual income to himself and family of $1095, his -dividend would bring him an extra lump sum of $219 annually. - -When figuring this out to his wife he said: “Think of the pairs of -shoes it will buy for our kiddies, Bess.” - -And the woman, an Irishwoman, had replied: “Bless the little -darlin’s. And hats and coats as well, not to speak of ribbons for the -girls. God bless the Major. Sure but he’s a wonderful man.” - -Several workers sitting in a corner of the Red Dog saloon were -calculating with pencil and paper their annual dividends on the already -famous Buell Hampton plan. - -“Boys,” said one of them after they had their several accounts -figured to the penny, “maybe we won’t make the dividend bigger next -year—what?” - -“I should say,” responded another. “I’ll do at least twice the -work every day of the coming year, because there’s now an object -for us poor devils to keep busy all the time. We’re sharing in the -profits, that’s just what it means.” - -“There’ll be a great reduction in breakage and waste,” remarked -another employee. - -“The directors can leave it to us to make the next year’s dividend a -dandy one.” - -These were just a few of the grateful encomiums flying around. - -On the day following the stockholders’ meeting the newly elected -directors convened, all except Grant Jones, who was over at Dillon and -had not yet been advised of his election. After Major Buell Hampton had -been voted into the chair a communication from W. B. Grady was read, -stating that he wished to know at once if the directors desired his -services for the ensuing year; if so he required a written contract, -and should the directors not be ready to comply with this ultimatum they -could interpret this letter as a formal resignation. There was a general -smile around the directors’ table at this bluffing acceptance of the -inevitable. It was promptly moved, seconded, and carried unanimously -that Mr. W. B. Grady be at once relieved from all further connection -with the Smelter Company’s plant and business. - -Major Hampton then explained that in accordance with his scheme the men -in the various departments would be invited at an early date to elect -their foremen, and these foremen in turn would have the power, not -to elect a general manager, but to recommend one for the final -consideration of the directors. Until a permanent appointment was made -he suggested that Boney Earnest, the blast furnace foreman dismissed by -the late manager because of a personal quarrel, should take charge of -the plant, he being a man of tried experience and worthy of absolute -trust. This suggestion was promptly turned into a substantive motion -and adopted by formal resolution. The meeting adjourned after Director -Bragdon in his capacity as company attorney had been instructed to -proceed immediately to the work of preparing the proper amendments to -the by-laws and taking all legal steps necessary to put into operation -the new plan. - -Thus neither mine nor smelting plant was shut down, but everything went -on without interruption and with greater vigor than before the momentous -meetings of stockholders and directors. The only immediate visible -effect of the company’s radical change in policy was Grady’s -deposition from the post which had enabled him to exercise a cruel -tyranny over the workingmen. - -And in the solitude of his home the dismissed manager, broken -financially although those around him did not yet know it, was nursing -schemes of revenge against Buell Hampton, the man of mystery who had -humiliated him and ousted him from power. - -Where was his henchman, Bud Bledsoe?—that was the question throbbing -in Grady’s brain. But Bud Bledsoe was now an outlaw among the hills, -with a price on his head and a sheriff’s posse ready at a moment’s -notice to get on his heels. - -“By God, I’ve got to find him,” muttered Grady. And that night, in -the falling dusk, he rode out alone into the mountain fastnesses. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIX.—SLEIGH BELLS - -THE morning after the directors’ meeting, when Roderick awakened and -looked out of the window, he found the air filled with flakes of falling -snow. He wasted no time over his toilet. Immediately after breakfast he -bundled up snugly and warmly, went over to the livery stable and engaged -a team and a sleigh. Soon after, the horses decorated with the best -string of sleigh bells the livery could provide, he was holding the -reins taut and sailing down through the main street of the little mining -town headed for the country. He was going to the Shields ranch. Half a -dozen invitations had been extended him during the past weeks, and he -told himself he had been neglectful of his old employer. - -When he reached the ranch and his team was duly stabled, the sleigh run -in out of the storm, he was cordially welcomed by the family before a -roaring fire of cheerfulness, and a multitude of questions were poured -upon him. - -“Why did you not come sooner and what about Major Hampton and the -smelter? We have heard all sorts of wonderful things?” - -“Why, what have you heard about the Major?” inquired Roderick, -endeavoring to get a lead to the things that had evoked such surprise. - -“I will tell you,” said Barbara. “Papa heard of it the day before -yesterday when he was in town. The stockholders were having a meeting, -and people said it had turned out to the surprise of everyone that Major -Hampton was the owner of a control of the company’s stock.” - -“Yes,” replied Roderick, “the rumor is correct. Great things have -indeed happened. But haven’t you heard from Ben Bragdon?” - -“Not a word.” - -“Well, I suppose he has been too busy reconstructing the by-laws -and the company’s affairs generally. Major Hampton has put him in as -attorney. There’s a financial plum for you, Miss Barbara.” - -“And Mr. Carlisle?” she asked in great astonishment. - -“Like W. B. Grady, he is down and out,” replied Roderick. -“There’s been a clean sweep. And behold in me a full-blossomed -member of the board of directors. Our chairman, the Major, has handed -me over a small library of books about smelting of ores, company -management, and so on. He tells me I’ve got to get busy and learn the -business—that I’m slated as vice-president and assistant manager, -or something of that kind. What do you think of all that, Mr. Shields? -There’s a rise in the world for your cowboy and broncho-buster of a -few months ago.” - -The cattle king and all the others warmly congratulated Roderick on his -rising fortunes. Dorothy now took the lead in the conversation. - -“You folks, keep still a moment until I ask Mr. Warfield just one -question,” she said eagerly. - -“Oh,” exclaimed Roderick, quickly, “I can answer the question. No, -Grant Jones has not been over to Encampment for quite a while.” - -A general laugh followed. - -“He has a devil over at his office,” added Roderick gravely. - -“A what?” they exclaimed. - -“A devil. You surely know what a devil in a printing office is? It is -a young fellow who washes the ink from the rolls and cleans the type or -something of that sort—sweeps out, makes fires and does a wholesale -janitor business. If he is faithful for fifteen or twenty years, then -he learns to set type and becomes a printer. Grant is breaking his new -devil in. Scotty Meisch, formerly one of your father’s cowboys, is his -name.” - -“Oh, little Scotty,” exclaimed Barbara. “I remember him.” - -“Well, does that necessarily keep Grant away?” asked Dorothy. - -“Oh, no, he is not necessarily kept away. He is probably a believer, -Miss Dorothy, that absence makes the heart grow fonder.’ I was very -disappointed,” Roderick went hurriedly on, smiling, “that Grant was -not in town to share the sleigh with me in coming over this morning. Of -course he doesn’t know it yet, but he also has been elected as one of -the directors of the Encampment Mine and Smelter Company.” - -“He has?” exclaimed Dorothy, her face lighting: “My word, but -he’ll be all puffed up, won’t he?” - -“Oh, no,” replied Roderick, “Grant is a very sensible fellow and -he selects his friends and associates with marked discrimination.” - -“Well, that’s what I think,” concurred Dorothy emphatically. - -She was not a little embarrassed by a second ebullition of general -laughter. There was a flush of rising color on her pretty cheeks. - -“Well, I don’t care,” she added bravely. “If I like anybody I -let them know about it, and that’s all there is to be said.” - -While luncheon was in progress, Roderick suggested that as the sleighing -was very good and his sleigh a very large one—the seat exceedingly -wide—the young ladies should come sleigh-riding with him in the -afternoon. - -“Splendid,” shouted the sisters in unison. “Certainly, we will be -delighted provided mother has no objections.” - -“Oh, no,” said Mrs. Shields, good-naturedly. “This first snow of -the season makes me feel like having a sleigh-ride myself. But, there, -your seat certainly won’t take four of us, and I know that Mr. Shields -is too busy to think of getting out his sleigh this afternoon.” - -“Well, I’LL tell you what I’ll do, Mrs. Shields,” said Roderick, -stirring his coffee. “I’ll take you for a ride first. We will go as -far as the river and back again, and then if the young ladies are real -good why of course I’ll give them the next spin.” - -“Oh, no,” said Mrs. Shields, “you young people go on and have your -sleigh ride and a good time.” - -“No,” objected Barbara. “You shall have the first sleigh ride, -Mama, and if you don’t go then Dorothy and I stay at home.” - -“Come now, Mrs. Shields,” urged Roderick, “accept my invitation, -for I see if you don’t I shall not be able to persuade the young -ladies to come.” - -“Yes, Mother,” said Dorothy, “it is just lovely of him to invite -you, and certainly the sleigh ride will be invigorating. The truth is, -we girls will enjoy the ride afterwards doubly if we know you have had -the first ride of the season before we have ours.” - -“Very well,” said Mrs. Shields, “since you all insist, so let it -be.” - -Soon after Roderick’s team was hitched to the sleigh and came jingling -down to the front gate. Mrs. Shields was tucked snugly in under the -robes and away they dashed with sleigh bells jingling, down the road -towards the Platte River several miles away. - -When they got back Barbara and Dorothy were in readiness, and Roderick -started away with them amid much merry laughter and promises from the -girls to be home when they got home but not before. The snow was still -falling in great big flakes and the cushion beneath the runners was soft -and thick. Mile followed mile, and it was late in the afternoon when the -sleighing party found themselves in Encampment. Roderick insisted that -the young ladies should have supper at the Hotel Bonhomme; they would -start on the return trip home immediately afterwards. - -When the sleigh drove up to the hotel, who should be looking out of the -front door but Grant Jones? He rushed outside and assisted the sisters -to alight. - -“I will be back in a few minutes,” shouted Roderick, as he dashed -away to the livery stable. - -“Say, Joe,” said Roderick while the horses were being unhitched, -“I will want the rig again after dinner, and Grant Jones will also -want a sleigh.” - -“All right,” replied the stableman. “I can fix him out all right -and everything will be in readiness. Just telephone and I’ll send the -rip over to the hotel.” - -At the dinner table Grant Jones was at his best. He had already heard -about the Smelter Company affairs and his own election as a director, -and waved the topic aside. It was the surprise of seeing Dorothy that -filled him with good-humor and joviality. As the meal progressed he -turned to Roderick and said: “Oh, yes, Roderick, I’ve just been -hearing from Scotty Meisch that during the summer months you learned to -be a great trout fisherman.” - -“Yes,” replied Roderick with a smile, “I certainly had a great -trout-fishing experience.” - -“Where?” asked Barbara quickly. - -“On the South Fork of the Encampment River.” - -“Now, Mr. Roderick Warfield,” said Barbara quite emphatically, “I -invited you to go trout fishing with me a good many times, and you told -me I should be the one to teach you the gentle art. Instead of this you -go away and learn to catch trout all alone. How many did you catch?” - -Roderick reddened with embarrassment. - -“Twenty-six,” he said. - -“Well, that was a pretty good catch for a novice. How big were -they?” - -“About two pounds,” Roderick answered, absent-mindedly. - -Grant Jones was fairly choking with laughter. “I say, Barbara,” he -began. - -“I didn’t go trout fishing alone,” interrupted Roderick quickly. - -“Look here, Barbara,” persisted Grant, calling to her across the -table. But Barbara was all attention to Roderick. - -“Who went with you?” she inquired. - -“Miss Gail Holden,” he replied and his face was actually crimson. - -Barbara laid down her knife and fork and leaned back in her chair, -placed her arms akimbo with her pretty hands on her slender waist line, -and looked at Roderick as if she were an injured child. Finally she -said: “Trifler!” Then everybody laughed at Roderick’s confusion. - -But he quickly recovered himself. - -“Trifler yourself!” he laughed back in rejoinder. “What about Ben -Bragdon? What would he have said had we gone trout-fishing together?” - -“You were not out of the running then,” said Barbara archly. - -“Oh, yes, I was, although the secret was to be kept until after the -nomination for senator.” - -It was Barbara’s turn now to blush. She looked around in some -bewilderment. Grant had bestowed a vigorous kick on Roderick’s shins -beneath the table. Only then did Roderick realize that he had broken -a confidence. Dorothy was eyeing Grant reproachfully. It was a case of -broken faith all round. - -“Well, you sisters have no secrets from each other,” exclaimed -Roderick, meeting the situation with a bright smile. “In just the -same way Grant and I are chums and brothers. Besides it was a friendly -warning. I was saved in time from the danger of shattered hopes and a -broken heart, Miss Barbara.” - -“So went fishing for consolation,” she replied with a smile. - -“And found it,” laughed Grant. - -“Who says that?” demanded Roderick, sternly. “Miss Holden would -have every reason seriously to object.” - -“The devil says it,” replied Grant, assuming a grave countenance. - -“That’s a poor joke,” said Roderick, offended. - -“Oh, Scotty Meisch is an observant lad,” remarked the editor drily. - -“The printer’s devil!” cried Dorothy, clapping her hands. And -all four laughed heartily—Roderick most heartily of all despite his -momentary dudgeon. - -“Then since all these whispers are going about,” remarked Barbara -when quiet was restored, “I think it will be advisable for me to have -a heart-to-heart talk with Gail.” - -“Oh, please don’t,” faltered Roderick. “Really, you know, -there’s no foundation for all this talk—all this nonsense.” - -“Indeed? Then all the more need for me to drop her a friendly -warning—guard her against shattered hopes and a broken heart and all -that sort of thing.” - -The tables were fairly turned, but Barbara, with quick woman’s wit, -saw that Roderick was really pained at the thought lest Gail Holden -might learn of this jesting with her name. - -“Oh, don’t be afraid,” she said, reassuringly. “We three will -keep your secret, young man. We are all chums and brothers, aren’t we -now?” And with one accord, laughing yet serious too, they all shook -hands to seal the bond, and any breaches of confidence in the past were -forgiven and forgotten. - -It had been a merry supper party, but it was now time to be starting -for the ranch. As they rose from the table Roderick turned to Grant and -said: “You will have to excuse me, old boy, as I am taking the ladies -home.” - -“Taking the ladies home? Well, ain’t I goin’ along?” asked -Grant, with a doleful look at Dorothy. - -“No room in our sleigh,” said Roderick coldly. - -“Roderick,” said Grant, half sotto voce, “you are cruel.” -But Roderick was unsympathetic and did not even smile. He turned away -indifferently. Drawing Barbara aside, he told her in an undertone of the -arrangements he had made with the livery stable for an extra sleigh. - -“Then you’ll be alone with me,” she said, with an amused smile. -“Won’t you be afraid? Broken heart, etc?” - -“Not now,” he replied sturdily. - -“Or of Mr. Bragdon? He mightn’t like it, you know.” - -“Oh, I’m not afraid of him,” laughed Roderick. “And I guess he -will trust me—and you,” he added gently and with a chivalrous little -bow. - -Shortly the sleighs were brought round to the hotel. Grant was beside -himself with delight when he discovered the extra rig for himself and -Dorothy, and he laughingly shouted to Roderick: “I say, old man, -you’re the best ever.” Soon the merrymakers were tucked snugly -beneath the lap robes, and were speeding over the glistening expanse of -snow to the joyous tinkle of the silver bells. - - - - -CHAPTER XXX.—WHITLEY ADAMS BLOWS IN - -RODERICK WARFIELD’S election to a seat on the board of directors of -the Encampment Mine and Smelter Company had for him a series of most -unexpected consequences. He had had no knowledge that Uncle Allen -Miller and a number of his financial followers in Iowa were now large -stockholders in the corporation. Nor had he been aware that Major Buell -Hampton, after his journey to New York, had visited the Keokuk banker. -The Major had learned from his brokers in Wall Street that Allen Miller -was on the market for this particular stock and had already acquired a -considerable holding. Hence his flying business visit to Keokuk, which -had resulted in the combination of forces that had gained the control -and ousted Grady, Carlisle, and their pawns on the old directorate. - -Major Hampton had since been in continuous correspondence with the -banker, but had never for a moment associated the names of Allen Miller -and Roderick Warfield as having any possible connection by relationship -or otherwise. The selection of the new board had been left entirely in -Buell Hampton’s hands after the banker had given his assent to the -profit-sharing scheme. That assent had not been won without considerable -argument. The plan upset all the banker’s old theories about -industrial enterprises. At the same time the shrewd old man of finance -was reading the signs of the times, and had long since come to realize -that a readjustment of the relations between capital and labor was -inevitable. He was all the more inclined to make this experiment, in the -first place because he was not going to be bothered with the working out -of the practical details, and in the second place because the magnetic -personality of Buell Hampton had at once inspired him with confidence -both in his ability to do things and in his integrity. Therefore the -shrewd old banker had fallen in with the Major’s plans, and given him -a free hand when entrusting him with the powers of attorney for himself -and the other Iowan stockholders. - -In point of fact there was another secret motive animating Allen Miller -to this line of action. Unless he cooperated with Buell Hampton, the -control would remain with W. B. Grady and his associates. And it was -Grady whom the banker was after—Grady, the financial shark who had -robbed his lifelong friend, General John Holden, of his underlying bonds -in the original and now defunct smelter company, at the time when the -amalgamation scheme had been devised to freeze out the first founders -of the enterprise. General Holden had been the chief victim of this -rapacious trick of financial jugglery, and Allen Miller was working -secretly to undo the wrong. But the banker was animated not only by -reasons of friendship. He had another incentive almost as strong. He -wanted to satisfy his keen sense of personal pride toward Roderick -Warfield. For the vital cause of quarrel between the old banker and the -youth he loved yet had disowned was the unnamed girl he had thrust upon -Roderick as a suitable bride because of her fortune. And this fortune -had been proved to be illusory on the very day succeeding the rupture -that had culminated in Roderick’s fine display of scorn and anger, -when he had flung himself out of the banker’s room and started off for -parts unknown to fight his own way in the world. - -It was the financial disaster which had overtaken General Holden that -had opened Allen Miller’s eyes to the truth that he had been utterly -wrong in his attempted methods of managing a headstrong, and as the -old guardian had thought at the time a wayward, youth like Roderick -Warfield. He had bitterly regretted the harsh words that had dared the -offender to play football with the world and, as he now realized, had -by their sarcastic bitterness driven the high-mettled young man from his -boyhood home. He had never doubted Roderick’s prowess to make a way -for himself by his own unaided efforts, and, despite the quarrel, had -always felt sure of the lad’s affection. So Roderick one day would -come back, to find the latchstring hanging outside the door of his home, -the promised place in the bank still awaiting him, and—the pride and -dogged determination of the old man would not yield the point—the -rich, attractive, and in every way highly eligible bride still -available. The only flaw in the program was Gail Holden’s fall from -fortune, and to repair this had been the object of the banker’s -continuous and strenuous endeavor. - -He had grabbed at the chance of lending money on the Mine and Smelter -Company bonds standing in the name of W. B. Grady, which bonds he -considered were by moral right really the property of General Holden. -But he had lent discreetly, postponing any big advance while he held the -documents and nosed around for information that might give some valid -reason to dispute their ownership. And in course of time he had made one -surprising discovery. Obtaining from General Holden all correspondence -with Grady, he had found one sentence in which the sponsor for the new -amalgamation scheme had guaranteed the withdrawal of all underlying -bonds in the old smelter company before the scheme would be put through. -Yet this condition had not been complied with, for Allen Miller had, in -the course of tracing every old bond, discovered that five were still in -existence and had never been surrendered. They belonged to a widow away -back in Pennsylvania who had gone to Europe and whose whereabouts at the -time Grady apparently had not been able to ascertain. But the persistent -old banker had followed the trail and through his agents in France had -purchased this particular parcel of bonds at a high figure. They were -few in number and insignificant in face value, but to Allen Miller they -were priceless, for these underlying bonds put W. B. Grady in his power -and could be made the means eventually of compelling restitution to -General Holden of the fortune that had been filched from him. Grady -would have to make good or face the criminal charge of a fraudulent -transaction. - -Buell Hampton had been told nothing about this—it was sufficient for -Allen Miller’s immediate purpose to have the company control wrested -without delay out of Grady’s hands. This would render litigation -easier, perhaps avoid it altogether—the better alternative, for -the law’s harassing delays and heart-sickening uncertainties are -proverbial. So when Buell Hampton had come to Keokuk in the cause of -humanity, to fight for the toilers at the smelter and in the big mine, -he had been agreeably surprised to find in the old banker such a ready -listener to his philanthropic arguments. The alliance had been -struck, with the result that Buell Hampton had been able to swing the -stockholders’ meeting exactly as he desired. - -Up to the very eve of that meeting the Major had kept his counsel and -held his hand. The merest hint of the power he possessed might have -given time for so astute a knave as Grady to devise some means more or -less unscrupulous of repelling the attack. Therefore Buell Hampton had -not dropped one word of what he intended to do until he had spoken to -Roderick in his home on the night before the stockholders’ meeting. -Little did either of them know at that time how vitally and directly -Roderick was interested in the outcome of the Major’s fight for the -downtrodden poor. - -After the eventful meetings of stockholders and directors it had been -Buell Hampton’s first duty to send a full report of the proceedings -to Allen Miller of Keokuk, whose power of attorney had enabled him to -effect the coup deposing Grady and giving a share of the profits to the -actual toilers at the furnaces and in the mine. In the course of this -report the names of the new directors were set forth. Judge of the -old banker’s utter amazement when his eyes fell upon the name -of—Roderick Warfield. Surprise quickly yielded to joy and delight. The -news was telephoned to Aunt Lois. The old banker could not leave town -at the moment—an issue of city bonds required his close attention. But -that very night an envoy was dispatched to Wyoming in the person of his -bright and trusted young clerk, Whitley Adams. - -And the first of the series of surprises for Roderick Warfield, one -afternoon a few days after the sleigh ride, was the sight of his old -college chum tumbling out of a bob-sled which, in default of coaching -facilities, had brought him over from the railroad at Rawlins. Whitley -had stopped the sled in the main street along which, in the crisp -sunshine that had followed the heavy snowfall, Roderick happened to be -strolling. - -“Hello, old scout,” cried the new arrival with all the ease of a -veteran globe-trotter. - -“Where in thunder did you drop from!” exclaimed Roderick, clutching -at his hand. - -“From Iowa’s sun-kissed cornfields to Wyoming’s snow-capped -hills,” laughed Whitley, humming the tune of the hymn he was -parodying. - -“What has brought you here?” - -“Lots of things. A letter for you, to begin with.” - -“From whom?” - -“Your Uncle Allen Miller.” - -“But he doesn’t know I’m here, does he?” - -“The whole world knows you’re here, dear boy,” replied Whitley, -pulling the latest issue of the Encampment Herald out of his pocket. -“Why, you’ve become famous—a director of the great smelting -corporation.” And he flourished the journal aloft. - -“Who sent you that paper?” - -“Major Buell Hampton, of course. At least he sent it to your uncle.” - -“Get out. You’re kidding, Whitley.” - -“No kidding about me, old man. Those irresponsible days are now -over.” Whitley drew himself up with great dignity. “If Buell Hampton -hasn’t told you that he came to Keokuk and made the acquaintance of -Banker Allen Miller, well, that’s his affair, not mine. Where shall we -have dinner? I’m as hungry as a grizzly.” - -“Wait a moment, Whitley. Do you mean to tell me Uncle Allen knows the -Major?” - -“Sure. They’ve been as thick as thieves—or rather I should say -as close as twins—Oh, that reminds me. How are dear Barbara and -Dorothy?” - -“Shut up—stop your nonsense. What were you going to say?” - -“Oh, just this, that ever since the Major paid us a visit at Keokuk, -letters have been passing nearly every week between him and the banker. -I’ve seen all the correspondence.” - -“I have known nothing about this,” said Roderick, in great -perplexity. - -“Well, doubtless you are not in the same confidential position as I -occupy,” replied Whitley airily. “But of course now that you are a -director of the company you’ll come to know—or at least should -know; that’s part of your duties—that Allen Miller is a big -stockholder.” - -There flashed to Roderick’s mind Buell Hampton’s vague reference, on -the night preceding the stockholders’ meeting, to some new friend, -a professional man of finance, with whom he held joint control of the -company’s stock. - -“A true friend of humanity,” he murmured, recalling the Major’s -words. “Great Scott, that’s about the last identification tag I -would have expected for Uncle Allen.” - -“Well, old chap,” interposed Whitley, “don’t mumble in -conundrums. You take it from me that Buell Hampton and your uncle are -financial pals—associates might be the more dignified word. That’s -no doubt why the Major nominated you for the board of directors.” - -Roderick paled. - -“By God, if that’s the case, I’ll resign tomorrow. I’ve been -standing on my own feet here. I owe nothing to Uncle Allen.” - -“There now, put all that touchy pride in your pocket, Roderick. By -jingo, you’re worse than Banker Miller himself. But I took the old -gentleman down a few pegs the afternoon he learned that you were in -Wyoming,” Whitley rambled on, laughing. “He declared that I must -have known your hiding place all the time.” - -“And you answered?” - -“Owned up at once, of course. Told him that others besides himself -could be trusted with a confidence—that neither he nor anybody else -could have bulldosed me into betraying a client. A client—that’s -what I called you, old man. Oh, you can’t give me business points -nowadays. What do you think he said in reply?” - -“Ordered you out of the room, I suppose.” - -“Not on your life! Commended my sagacity, my trustworthiness; told -me again that I was a born banker, one after his own heart. And to show -that he meant what he said, he raised my salary five dollars a week, and -handed me over fifty dollars extra spending money for this trip. What do -you think of that?” - -“I can’t express a thought—I’m too much surprised over the whole -train of events.” - -“Oh, I suppose he knew I’d have to buy a few boxes of candy for the -beautiful Wyoming girls,” Whitley went on. “I had told him after -my first trip here that they were regular stunners—that they had been -buzzing about me like flies around a pot of honey. Oh, he laughed all -right. I know how to manage the old fellow—was half afraid he’d be -coming along himself instead of sending me this time. But he bade me -tell you he couldn’t possibly get away from Keokuk just now. Which -reminds me—here’s your letter, old man; and one, too, from Aunt -Lois. She saw me off at the train, and gave me a kiss to pass on to -you.” Whitley, a bunch of letters in his hand, made a movement as if -to bestow upon Roderick the osculatory salute with which he had been -entrusted. But Roderick, smiling in spite of himself, pushed him back. - -“You irrepressible donkey: Hand over my letters.” - -“Oh, yes, the letters.” Whitley began to sort the bunch of -correspondence. “This is for Buell Hampton. And this is for Ben -Bragdon. I suppose he’s in town?” - -“Yes. But he’s pretty busy.” - -“Won’t be too busy to attend to me, I reckon. Then W. B. -Grady”—he was fingering a neatly folded, legal looking document “I -hope that Grady hasn’t cleared out from Encampment yet.” - -“Not that I’ve heard. In fact I saw him on the street this morning. -You seem to have business with everyone in town.” - -“Just about hits it, old man. And General John Holden. Ah, yes, that -reminds me,” Whitley suspended his sorting of the letters, and looked -up. “How’s the college widow, old man?” - -Roderick reddened. - -“That’s all off,” he answered stiffly. - -“I guessed that’s just what would happen. Best so, by a long chalk, -So Stella Rain is free again. Guess I’ll stop off on my way home, and -take a run to Galesburg. Nice girl, you know, Stella. No saying but I -might make an impression now she is”— - -“Stella Rain is married,” interrupted Roderick, speaking sharply and -shortly. - -“You don’t say? Too bad.” - -“Happily married, I tell you—to some rich fellow.” - -“Oh, then, she threw you over, did she? Ho, ho, ho! But that’s all -right, old fellow. Saves all complications. And Gail, how’s Gail? Oh, -she’s a pipit pin. - -“By gad, Whitley, you shut up. Come and have your dinner. But you -haven’t given me my letters yet.” - -“Ah, I forgot Well this one is for General Holden. I’ve got to see -him at once.” - -“What about?” - -“Confidential business, my friend. Ask no questions for I want to be -spared the pain of refusing you the slightest information. Great -guns, Rod, we financial men, you know, hold more secrets than a father -confessor. We’ve got to keep our mouths shut all the time, even to our -best friends. This is my letter of credit to your local bank—no -limit, mind you, on my sight drafts on Keokuk. Ah, yes, here are your -letters—one from Aunt Lois, the other from your old guardian. Hope he -has put a fat check inside.” - -“I don’t need his checks—if there’s any check here, you can take -it back.” And Roderick ripped open the envelope. - -But there was no offending slip of colored paper enclosed, and he thrust -both the letters unread into his pocket. - -“Now we’ll dine,” he said. - -“A moment, please.” And Whitley turned to the driver of the bob-sled -waiting in the middle of the road. - -“Go and get your dinner, my man,” he called out. “Then hitch fresh -horses in that sled, and come to my hotel, the Bonhomme; that’s the -best place in town, if I remember right, Roderick,” he said with -a glance at his friend. Then he continued to the driver: “Charge -everything to me, and don’t be longer than a couple of hours. Now come -along, Roderick. You dine with me—oh, I have an ample expense fund. -But I’m sorry I’ll have to leave you immediately after dinner.” - -Roderick was overwhelmed by all this grandiloquence. He hardly dared to -take his old chum’s arm as they walked along the street. But at last -he stopped, burst out laughing, and slapped the man of affairs squarely -between the shoulders. - -“Whitley, old chap, you’re a wonder. You play the part to -perfection.” - -“Play the part?” protested Whitley, with a fine assumption of -dignity. “I am the part—the real thing. I’m your rich old -uncle’s right hand man, and don’t you forget it. Would a little -ready cash now be a convenience?” - -Then Whitley’s arm went round his comrade’s neck, and with a -simultaneous whoop of laughter they passed into the hotel. - -But during the next twenty-four hours Roderick saw very little of -his college chum. And during the same period the said college chum -accomplished some very remarkable things. Immediately after dinner the -bob-sled sped out to Conchshell ranch, and General Holden signed the -legal papers that attached, as a measure of precaution, the bonds -standing in the name of W. B. Grady and now in the custody of the bank -at Keokuk as security for a loan. And for half the night Attorney Ben -Bragdon and Whitley Adams were closeted with W. B. Grady in a private -parlor of the hotel, and the fight was fought out for legal possession -of the fraudulently acquired bonds—a fight that put the issue squarely -up to Grady whether he would accept Banker Allen Miller’s terms of -surrender or face a criminal charge. It was in the grey of the breaking -dawn that the vanquished Grady crept out of the hotel, wiping the beads -of cold sweat from his brow, while Whitley was quietly folding up the -properly signed transfers that gave back to General Holden bonds of -equal value to those of which he had been robbed by false pretences and -promises never fulfilled. - -In the morning Whitley was again at the Conchshell ranch, and -breakfasted with the General and his daughter. It was the latter who -bound him to secrecy—to the solemn promise that neither he nor Mr. -Bragdon should divulge to anyone the story of this restored family -fortune. Gail declared that she was going to make good with her dairy -cattle venture, that neither she nor her father wanted to return to -the old life of fashion and society at Quincy, that they had no wish to -appear as rich folks. Whitley listened to all the arguments, understood, -and promised. And that the transfer of the bonds should not be connected -with General Holden’s name it was agreed that for the present they -should pass to Banker Allen Miller as family trustee. - -Whitley’s chest had expanded fully two inches when he drove away, the -trusted emissary for the carrying into effect of these decrees. He had -had a few minutes alone with Gail and, introducing the name of Roderick -Warfield in a casual way, had assured her that he, like everyone else, -would know nothing about these strictly family affairs. She had blushed -a little, reiterated her thanks, and at parting had, he could have -sworn, given him an extra friendly pressure of her dainty little -fingers. - -Whitley drove straight to Ben Bragdon’s office, and took the -precaution of adding to the professional seal of secrecy a direct -expression from the General of his wishes in the matter. - -During the afternoon the young banker from Keokuk personally delivered -the letter from Allen Miller addressed to Major Buell Hampton. Whitley -had insisted upon Roderick accompanying him. The relationship between -Roderick and Banker Miller was now revealed. The Major received the news -without much surprise. - -“In the loom of life,” he said, with great solemnity, “the shuttle -of destiny weaves the threads of individual lives into a pattern -which is only disclosed as time goes on. Thus are the destinies of men -interwoven without their knowing either the how or the why. Roderick, my -dear fellow, from this day on we are simply more closely bound to each -other than ever.” - -The evening was spent at the Shields ranch. Whitley congratulated -Barbara on her engagement to Ben Bragdon, and then took Dorothy’s -breath away by congratulating her and the absent Grant Jones as well. - -Dorothy blushed furiously, and disowned the soft impeachment; to which -Whitley replied that unless her sweetheart got busy promptly and toed -the line, he himself was coming back to Encampment to cut out so tardy -a wooer. “Tell Grant Jones from me,” he said, “that it’s taking -chances to leave the tempting peach upon the tree.” She slapped his -hand playfully for his audacity, and Roderick hurried the flippant -financier out of the room. - -At midnight, in the bright moonlight, Whitley departed for Rawlins -to catch his train. Nothing could persuade him to prolong his -visit—Banker Miller would be hopping around like a cat on hot bricks, -the bank going to wreck and ruin if he did not hurry back, the girls of -Keokuk growing quite jealous of the beauties of Wyoming. - -Like a whiff of sweet perfume the joyous youth was gone. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXI.—RODERICK’S DISCOVERY - -NOTWITHSTANDING their change in fortunes, - -Roderick and Grant still made the editor’s shack their home—the -old place endeared to them by many fond associations. A few days after -Whitley Adams’ visit they were seated at the breakfast table, and -Grant had proposed that they should go deer hunting. - -“Excellent weather,” he explained, “as the snow is just deep -enough up in the mountains to drive the deer down. Finest sport in the -world. Nothing like going after big game.” - -“You almost persuade me,” said Roderick, setting down his coffee -and looking at Grant with increased interest. “All the same I hate -to leave the smelter plant even for a day or two. You see I’m just -beginning to get a hang of the business, and I’ve quite made up my -mind to master it.” - -“Oh, let it rip. You’re not tied down to the works, are you?” - -“Certainly not—you don’t imagine I think myself qualified as yet -to be tied down. ‘But what about guns?” - -“Oh, well,” said Grant, “I have a.32 Winchester, one that has -got a record too, by gunnies, as Jim Rankin would say. Its record is -great.” - -“How big a record?” inquired Roderick. - -“Seven deer,” answered Grant. - -“All your own killing?” - -“Well, no. To be downright truthful since you force me to -particularize, I’ll admit I never killed but one deer with it. -But that does not interfere with the gun’s record.” And then he -continued: “I have no doubt Major Hampton will be delighted to loan -you his gun. He has a .30 calibre Government Springfield and in his hands -it has accounted for many a buck.” - -After breakfast they called on Major Hampton. - -“Good morning, gentlemen,” said the Major as he opened the door and -bade them welcome. - -“We are going deer hunting,” said Grant, quite enthusiastically. -“I have a gun, but this-would-be-slayer-of-big-game, Roderick, is -gunless and when we return he may be deerless. Was just wondering, -Major, if you would care to loan your famous deer killer to him. Guess -its long record,” he added, “would fill a book.” - -“Why, certainly,” replied the Major in an absent-minded way; -and then presently he went on: “Do not interpret my hesitation as -unwillingness to accommodate you. It is well you came just when you did, -for within half an hour I myself will be starting for the mountains and -my mind was pre-occupied with my own little preparations.” - -“Can’t you come with us, Major?” asked Grant. - -“But I won’t be depriving you of your gun?” enquired Roderick -simultaneously. - -“I answer ‘no’ to both questions,” was the smiling response. -“I am going out on one of my lonesome excursions—to commune -with Nature face to face for a brief spell. And when I go I need no -rifle—even the very deer there are my trustful friends.” - -Then turning he took down his rifle from its accustomed place and -brought it over to Roderick. - -“This old Springfield has served me well,” he said, smiling in his -own magnificent way. “It was my friend in dark days of need. In my -lifetime, gentlemen, I have never spilled the blood of any living thing -wantonly, and I do not believe man is justified in taking the life of -even a worm on the pathway, a rabbit in the hills, cattle or sheep in -the fields, or a deer in the wilds unless it is for food and to sustain -life.” - -Then suddenly looking at Grant the Major said: “I understand W. R. -Grady is up in the hills?” - -“Yes, so I have heard.” - -“What is he doing? Looking for a mine?” - -“Possibly. They say he is at the Thomas Boarding House most of the -time up at Battle.” - -“Guess,” interrupted Roderick, “that he is not very happy -since the new order of things—your new plan, Major—put him out of -business.” - -“Perhaps he is getting in touch again with his old heeler, Bud -Bledsoe,” suggested Grant. “That outlaw gang has been lying low -for quite a while, but I’m expecting to hear about some new bit of -deviltry any day. Am in need of a corking good newspaper story.” - -“Well, since you are bent on hunting big game,” laughed the Major, -“these miscreants might provide you with all the exciting sport you -are wanting.” - -“Oh, a brace of good fat bucks will be good enough for us. Where’s -the likeliest place to start from, Major? You’re the local authority -on these matters.” - -“You know where Spirit River Falls are?” asked Buell Hampton. - -“I’ve heard of them but have never been there,” replied Grant. - -“I think that I’ve seen them from above,” observed Roderick, -“but I don’t know the way to them.” - -“Well, you know where Gid Sutton’s half-way house is located?” - -“Certainly,” replied Roderick. “I was there less than a month -ago.” - -“Well, Spirit River Falls are located about six or seven miles south -and east of the half-way house. I advise that one of you go up the South -Fork of the Encampment River and the other keep to the right and go over -the hills past Conchshell ranch into a park plateau to the south; then -have your meeting place this evening in an old log structure that you -will find about three-fourths of a mile directly through the timber -southeast from the falls. If you are wise, you will load up two or three -burros, send them with a trusty, and have him make camp for you in this -old deserted hut. You will find a cup of coffee, a rasher of bacon and -a few sandwiches very appetizing by the time you have tramped all day in -your deer-hunting quest And the country all around is full of deer.” - -The young men thanked him warmly for his advice. - -“In point of fact,” continued Buell Hampton, “I’ll be up in the -same region myself. But I’m travelling light and will have the start -of you. Moreover, we can very easily lose each other in that rugged -country of rocks and timber. But don’t mistake me for a buck, -Roderick, if you catch sight of my old sombrero among the brushwood;” -saying which he reached for the broad-brimmed slouch hat hanging against -the wall. - -“I’ll take mighty good care,” replied Roderick. “But I hope -we’ll run up against you, Major, all the same.” - -“No, you won’t find me,” answered Buell Hampton, with a quiet -smile. “I’ll be hidden from all the world. Follow the deer, young -men, and the best of luck to you.” - -The two comrades started away in high feather, anticipating great -results from the tip given them by the veteran hunter. Going straight to -the livery bam, they rigged out three burros, and sent with them one -of the stablemen who, besides being a fairly good cook, happened to -be familiar with the trail to Spirit River Falls, and also knew the -location of the “hunter’s hut” as they found the old log structure -indicated by Buell Hampton was locally named. - -These arrangements concluded, Roderick and Grant started for the hills. -Some half a mile from Encampment they separated—Jones going along -the east bank of the South Fork of the Encampment River and Roderick -following the North Fork until he came to Conchshell canyon. The day was -an ideal one for a deer hunt. There was not a breath of wind. The sky -was overcast in a threatening manner as if it were full of snow that was -liable to flutter down at the slightest provocation. - -As Roderick reached the plateau that constituted the Conchshell ranch -he concluded to bear to the left and as he said to himself “Keep away -from temptation.” He was out hunting wild deer that day and he must -not permit himself to make calls on a sweet-throated songster like Gail. -On through the open fields and over the fences and into a thick growth -of pines and firs, where he plodded his way through snow that crunched -and cried loudly under his feet Indeed the stillness of everything -excepting his own walking began to grate on his nerves and he said to -himself that surely a whitetailed deer with ordinary alertness could -hear him walking even if it were half a mile away. - -As he trudged along mile after mile he was very watchful for game or -tracks, but nothing stirred, no trace of deer was discernible in any -direction. He was following the rim of a hill surmounting some boxlike -canyons that led away abruptly to the left, while a smooth field or park -reached far to the right where the hills were well covered with timber. -Here and there an opening of several acres in extent occurred without -bush or shrub. - -It was perhaps one o’clock in the afternoon and he was becoming a bit -leg-weary. Brushing the snow away from a huge boulder he seated -himself for a short rest. Scarcely had he done so than he noticed that -occasional flakes of snow were falling. “More snow,” he muttered -to himself, “and I am a good ways from a cup of coffee if I am any -judge.” - -After he was rested he got up and again moved on. Just then, as he -looked down into a box canyon, he saw three deer—a doe and two -half-grown fawns. Quickly bringing his gun to his shoulder his first -impulse was to fire. But he realized that it would be foolish for -the animals were at least five hundred yards away and far below the -elevation where he was standing. - -“No,” he said to himself, “I will leave the rim of this mountain -and get down into the canyon.” - -He hastily retreated, and took a circuitous route intending to head off -the deer. In due time he approached the brow of the precipitous bluff -and after walking back and forth finally found a place where he -believed he could work his way down into the canyon. It was a dangerous -undertaking—far more so than Roderick knew—and might have proved his -undoing. - -He was perhaps half way down the side of the cliff, working his way back -and forth, when suddenly some loose stones slipped from under his feet -and away he went, sliding in a sitting position down the side of the -mountain. He had sufficient presence of mind to hold his gun well away -from him to prevent any possible accident from an accidental discharge. -The cushioning of the snow under him somewhat slowed his descent, yet he -could not stop. Down and down he went, meeting with no obstruction that -might have given him a momentary foothold. Presently he saw, to his -great relief of mind, that he was headed for a small fir tree that had -rooted itself on a ledge near the bottom of the canyon. A moment later -his feet came thump against its branches, and while the jar and shock of -suddenly arrested motion were very considerable yet they were not enough -to be attended with any serious consequences. - -Somewhat dazed, he remained seated for a few moments. But soon he found -his footing, and pulling himself together, brushed away the snow from -his apparel and made sure that his gun was all right. After a glance -around he picked his way down some distance farther into the canyon, and -then turning to the right along a little ledge started in the direction -where he expected to sight the deer higher up the hill. - -Suddenly he stopped. There were the deer tracks right before him going -down the gorge. - -“By George,” he muttered aloud, “I did not get far enough down. -However, I will follow the tracks.” And forthwith he started on the -trail, cautiously but highly expectant. - -The direction was westerly, but he had not gone far until the canyon -made an elbow turn to the south and then a little farther on to the -east. “I wonder,” said Roderick to himself, “what sort of a maze I -am getting into. This canyon is more crooked than an old-fashioned worm -fence or a Wyoming political boss.” - -The box canyon continued to grow deeper and the rocky cliffs higher, -zig-zagging first one way and then another until Roderick gave up all -pretense of even guessing at the direction he was travelling. - -“Strange I have never heard of this narrow box-canyon before,” he -thought. - -After walking briskly along for about an hour, keeping the tracks of the -retreating deer in view, he suddenly came to an opening. A little valley -was spread out before him, and to his amazement there were at least a -hundred deer herded together in the park-like enclosure. - -Roderick rubbed his eyes and looked up at the high and abrupt precipices -that surrounded this open valley on every side. It seemed to him that -the walls rose sheer and almost perpendicular several hundred feet to -the rocky rim above. He followed on down, filled with wonderment, and -presently was further astonished by finding several great bubbling -springs. Each basin was fully a hundred feet across, and the agitated -waters evidently defied freezing, for they fairly boiled in their -activity, overflowing and coming together to form quite a big tumbling -mountain stream. - -Stealthily following on and keeping the great herd in view he mentally -speculated on the surprise he would give Grant Jones when he came to -display the proofs of his prowess as a hunter of the hills. Surely -with his belt full of cartridges and the large number of deer in sight, -although as yet too far away to risk a shot, he could add several -antlered heads to Grant’s collection. The stream grew larger. There -were a number of other springs feeding their surplus waters into brooks -which eventually all joined the main stream, and he mentally resolved -that the next time Gail and he went trout-fishing they would visit this -identical spot. He laughed aloud and asked the question: “Will she be -mine so that we may come together for a whole week into this beautiful -dell?” - -The farther he advanced the less snow he found in the strange, -rock-fenced valley. The grasses had grown luxuriantly in the summer -season, and the deer were browsing in seeming indifference to his -presence yet moving on away from him all the time. He began wondering -if all this were a mirage or a reality. He looked a second time at the -slowly receding herd and again he laughed aloud. “Such foolishness,” -he exclaimed. “It is an absolute reality, and right here I will make -my name and fame as a hunter.” - -He stopped suddenly, for just across the stream, standing among the -boulders and pebbles of an old channel, were four deer, not two hundred -feet away. They were looking at him in mild-eyed wonder, one of them a -noble, splendidly antlered buck. Lifting the Major’s Springfield to -his shoulder Roderick sighted along the barrel and fired. Three of the -deer ran away. But the buck jumped high into the air, attempted to climb -the opposite bank, failed and fell backward. - -Hurriedly crossing over the stream and slipping in his excitement off -the stones into knee-deep water, he came quickly up to the wounded deer. -Instantly the animal bounded to his feet, but fell again. Roderick fired -a second shot which reached a vital spot. The magnificent denizen of the -hills had been vanquished in the uneven contest with man’s superior -knowledge and deadly skill. - -The novice in huntsman’s craft had received all sorts of book -instructions and verbal explanations from Grant Jones. So he at once -drew his hunting knife, thrust it into the jugular vein of the dying -deer, and bled him copiously. Only the hunter knows the exultant -feelings of mingled joy and excitement that possessed Roderick at that -moment. His first deer! Resting the gun against a small cottonwood -tree that grew on a raised bank between the old channel and the flowing -waters, he walked to the stream, washed the crimson from his knife, and -returned the weapon to its sheath. - -Then he looked around to get his bearings. He knew he had come with -the waters from what seemed to be a westerly direction. The stream was -evidently flowing toward the east. As he walked along in the old channel -over the sandbar he kicked the rocks and pebbles indifferently, and then -stopped suddenly, gasped and looked about him. - -On every side the mountains rose precipitately fully six or seven -hundred feet. There was no visible outlet for the stream. - -“Is it possible,” he exclaimed with bated breath, “that I am in -the lost canyon? And this,” he said, stooping down and picking up a -nugget of almost pure gold—“is this the sandbar on which my father -and Uncle Allen Miller found their treasure yeans and years ago? -Marvelous! Marvelous! Marvelous!” - -For the moment the slain deer was forgotten. His achievement as a hunter -of big game no longer thrilled him. He was overwhelmed by a mightier -surge of emotion. - -“Yes,” he said finally in a low voice of conviction, “this at last -is the lost find!” - -And he sank down on the gold-strewn pebbly sandbar, limp and helpless, -completely overcome. - -A minute later he had recovered his composure. He stood erect He -gazed down the valley. The startled herd of deer had vanished into the -brushwood and low timber. - -But there, slowly ascending along the river bed, was the figure of Buell -Hampton. Roderick stood stockstill, lost in amazement, waiting. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXII.—STAKING THE CLAIMS - -SO IT is you who have found my Hidden Valley,” said Buell Hampton -as he drew near. His voice had a regretful ring, but as he grasped -Roderick’s hand he added cordially: “I thank God it is you, -Roderick. When I heard the rifle shots I was afraid it might be Bud -Bledsoe or some of his gang.” - -“Your hidden valley, Major?” murmured Roderick, interrogatively and -with emphasis on the first word. - -“Yes, my son—the valley from which I took the carload of rich ore we -sold in Denver.” - -“Great guns, Major. I too have discovered gold—placer gold.” - -“Where?” - -“At your feet. Look.” And Roderick stooped and picked up a fine -smooth-worn nugget as big as a pigeon’s egg. “Look, look, look,” -continued Roderick. “It is all around us on this sandbar.” - -“I did not happen on this spot,” said Buell Hampton. “The fact -is I hardly explored the valley at all. I had all the gold I wanted or -could ever want in my own find.” - -“Then where is that find?” - -“Lower down the stream—a dyke of porphyry and white quartz. But -you already know the kind of ore Jim Rankin, Tom Sun, and Boney Earnest -helped me to get out of the valley. It is quite different from your -gold.” - -The Major stooped, and collected a handful of good-sized nuggets. - -“How did you come to find this place, Roderick?” he asked, gazing up -at the sheer cliffs around them. - -“I have been searching for it,” he replied, “since ever I came to -Wyoming. Oh, Major, it is a strange story. I hardly know where to begin. -But wait. Sit down on that boulder. I have my father’s letter with me. -You can read it and will then understand.” - -From an inner pocket Roderick produced the map and letter which had -never left his possession, night or day, since his Uncle Allen had -handed him the sealed packet in the bank manager’s room at Keokuk. -Without a word Buell Hampton took the seat indicated, and after a -preliminary glance at the map proceeded to read the long epistle left -by the old miner, John Warfield, as a dying legacy to his son. Roderick -sitting on his heels watched in silence while the other read. - -“Your father was a sensible man,” remarked Buell Hampton, as at -last he refolded the paper. “I like the spirit in which he wrote—the -fervent expression of his hope that this wealth will prove a blessing to -you instead of a disquieting evil. Yes, you have undoubtedly found your -father’s lost mine. But, Roderick, why did you not tell me of this -before? I would have gladly helped you to a quicker discovery. This map -here I would have recognized at a glance as the map of my happy retreat, -my Hidden Valley.” - -“Well, Major, I may seem to have been a bit reticent—or independent, -may I call it? But you will remember that it was early in our intimacy -when you showed me and the others those rich ore specimens in your -home. And you yourself were reticent—bound us to secrecy, yet gave us -no-single clue as to the whereabouts of your wonderful discovery.” - -“Because I wanted to protect this place from intrusion—I indulged -in the dream that the treasure of the valley might be made to fall only -into worthy hands, which dream could never be realized unless I guarded -my secret from one and all.” - -“Your sentiment I quite understand. But don’t you see, Major, it was -this very reticence on your part that made me reticent—that virtually -sealed my lips? I have often thought of showing you my father’s -letter, of telling the full reasons that brought me to Wyoming. But to -have done so after you had shown us that ore would have been simply to -press you for further information—to have asked you to divulge the -location of your mine which you had resolved to keep secret so that I -might possibly be assisted in the quest for my father’s lost claim. I -couldn’t do that I am sure you will now understand my feelings.” - -“Fine feelings, Roderick,” exclaimed the Major, extending his -hand. “Feelings after my own heart I understand them, and can only -compliment you on your sturdy independence. But how did you get here?” -And again he glanced up the precipitous mountains. - -“Well, I think I might almost say I tumbled down into the canyon,” -laughed Roderick. “I slipped and tobogganed down a steep slope. Then I -followed the tracks of four deer I was after, and found myself here. By -the way, have you looked at my splendid buck?” - -Buell Hampton rose, and as if by force of habit drew his hunting knife -and proceeded to dress and gambrel the deer. Roderick watched the -skilled hands at work. Before many minutes the carcass was hanging on -the peg of a broken limb. - -“Certainly, a fine buck,” remarked the Major, stepping back -admiringly. “Your first, I believe?” - -“My very first.” - -“Not often that a man kills his first deer and discovers a gold mine -on the same day, eh?” laughed Buell Hampton. “But where is Grant -Jones?” - -“I haven’t seen him since morning. We followed your directions, and -took opposite sides of the river.” - -“Then he will meet you tonight at the old log hut?” - -“That’s our arrangement. But how are we to get out of this -box-canyon?” - -“I can show you an easier way out than the toboggan slide by which you -came in,” replied the Major, smiling. “At the same time I think I -should prefer to follow your tracks, so that in the future I may know -this second means of access. I am afraid the secret of this little -sequestered valley can be no longer kept from the world. I presume you -are going to stake out a claim and record it.” - -“You bet,” laughed Roderick. “There’s no sentiment about -sequestered valleys or happy retreats in my make-up. Great Scott, -there’s a cool million dollars of gold lying around right here. I’m -going to take no chances of the next man finding the spot. Isn’t that -common sense, Major?” - -“No doubt,” replied Buell Hampton, “it is common sense in your -case. And you are obviously following your father’s bidding in making -the fullest and the best use of the wealth he tried so long in vain to -rediscover. Are you familiar with the regulations as to staking out a -claim?” - -“Oh, yes, I’ve posted myself on all that.” - -“Well, choose your ground, and I’ll whittle your stakes.” He rose -and again unsheathed his hunting knife. - -“Major,” cried Roderick, “along this old channel there’s at -least three men’s ground. We’ll stake for you and for me and for -Grant Jones.” - -“But Grant Jones must have been on his claim before he can file on it. -That’s the law.” - -“We’ll bring him down tomorrow morning.” - -“Then, go ahead,” said the Major. “I think it is right and proper -to secure all the ground we can. I believe it will be all for the best -that it should be in our hands.” - -Within an hour stakes had been placed at the corners of the three placer -claims, and the proper location notices, written on leaves torn from -Buell Hampton’s note book, affixed to a stake in the centre of each -claim. - -“I think that this complies with all legal requirements,” remarked -the Major, as they surveyed their workmanship. “Now, Roderick, tit for -tat. You will come down the valley with me, and we shall secure, as -lode claims, the porphyry dyke from which I have cut out merely the rich -outcrop.” - -Another hour’s labor saw the second task completed. - -They were back at Roderick’s sandbar, and had filled their pockets -with nuggets. - -“Now for the ascent,” said Buell Hampton. “Tomorrow morning we -shall return, and breakfast here on your venison. Hurry up now; the -evening shadows are already falling.” - -The trail left by Roderick and the four deer through the canyon and -along the zigzag gash in the mountains above the bubbling springs was -clearly traceable in the snow. When the narrow ledge by which Roderick -had descended into the gorge was reached the Major took the precaution -of blazing an occasional tree trunk for future direction. Progress was -easy until they reached the abrupt declivity down which the hunter had -slipped. A little farther along the deer appeared to have descended -the steep incline by a series of leaps. In the gathering dusk it was -impossible to proceed farther; steps would have to be cut or a careful -search made for some way around. - -“We must go back,” said Buell Hampton. “Now I will show you my -means of access to the canyon—one of the most wonderful rock galleries -in the world.” - -Retracing their footsteps they hastened along at the best speed -possible, and soon reached the tunnel into which the river disappeared. -Producing his electric torch, the Major prepared to lead the way. He -lingered for just a moment to gaze back into the canyon which was now -enveloped in the violet haze of eventide. - -“Is it not lovely?” he murmured. “Alas, that such a place of -perfect peace and beauty should come to be deserted and despoiled!” - -Roderick was fingering the slugs of gold in his pocket. He followed the -direction of the Major’s eyes. - -“Yes, it is all very beautiful,” he replied. “But scenery is -scenery, Major, and gold is gold.” - -The little torch flashed like an evening star as they disappeared into -the grotto. - -Buell Hampton and Roderick had gazed up the canyon. - -But they had failed to observe two human forms crouched among the -brushwood not fifty yards away—the forms of Bud Bledsoe and Grady, who -had that morning tracked the Major from his home to the falls, under the -cataract, through the rock gallery, right into the hidden canyon, intent -on discovering the secret whence the carload of rich ore had come, bent -on revenge for Grady’s undoing with the smelting company when the -proper moment should arrive. - -That night Buell Hampton, Roderick Warfield, and Grant Jones supped -frugally at the hunter’s hut on ham sandwiches and coffee. Down in -Hidden Valley on the gold-strewn sandbar W. B. Grady and his henchman -feasted royally on venison steaks cut from the fat buck Roderick’s -gun had provided. They had already torn down the location notices and -substituted their own. And far into the night by the light of their camp -fire the claim-jumpers searched for the nuggets among the pebbles and -gathered them into a little heap, stopping only from their frenzied -quest to take an occasional gulp of whiskey from the big flask without -which Bud Bledsoe never stirred. When daylight broke, exhausted, -half-drunk, both were fast asleep beside the pile of stolen gold. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIII—THE SNOW SLIDE - -DURING the night a few flakes of snow had fallen—just the flurry of -a storm that had come and tired and paused to rest awhile. The morning -broke grey and sombre and intensely still; the mantle of white that -covered the ground and clung to bushes and tree branches seemed to -muffle every sound; the atmosphere was clear, but filled with brooding -expectancy. - -The three friends at the hunter’s hut were early astir. Roderick, -despite the fact that fortune had at last smiled and crowned with -success the prolonged quest for his father’s lost mine, was strangely -oppressed. Buell Hampton, too, was grave and inclined to silence. But -Grant Jones was gay and happy, singing blithely during the preparations -for breakfast. - -On the previous night he had received the story of the find with -exultant delight. With such a rich mining claim all the ambitions of his -life were about to be realized. He would buy out his financial partners -in the Dillon Doublejack and publish it as a daily newspaper—hang -the expense, the country would grow and with it the circulation, and he -would be in possession of the field against all-comers. Then again he -would acquire the Encampment Herald although keeping on the brilliant -Earle Clemens as editor; also start another paper at Rawlins, and in -a little time run a whole string of journals, like some of the big -newspaper men whose names were known throughout the nation. Listening -to these glowing plans as they drank their morning coffee around the -campfire, Roderick and the Major could not but admire the boyish gaiety -of this sanguine spirit. - -“I’m going to propose to Dorothy tomorrow,” exclaimed Grant by -way of grand finale to his program of great expectations, “and the -Reverend Stephen Grannon will marry us before the week is out We’ll -spend our honeymoon in Chicago so that I can buy some new printing -presses and things. Then we’ll be back in time to bring out a grand -mid-winter number that will make all Wyoming sit up and take notice. By -gad, boys, it’s great to be a newspaper editor.” - -“Better to be a newspaper proprietor,” laughed Roderick. - -“Or both combined,” suggested the Major. - -“There you’ve hit it,” cried Grant. “And that’s just the luck -that has come my way at last—thanks to you, Roderick, old scout, and -to you, Major, as well.” - -“No, no,” protested Buell Hampton. “With your happy disposition -and great capacity for work, success was bound to be yours, my dear -fellow. The manner of its coming is a mere detail.” - -“That’s the way a good friend cloaks good deeds,” replied Grant. -“However, we’ll let it go at that. Pass the frying pan please; this -bacon’s just fine.” Plans for the day were carefully discussed. The -man in charge of the burros had not been taken into their confidence; as -a member of the expedition he would be properly looked after later on, -but meanwhile strict secrecy was the only wise policy until the location -papers had been properly filed at the county seat, Rawlins. This -filing would undoubtedly be the signal for a rush of all the miners and -prospectors within a hundred miles of the little treasure valley among -the hills. - -“Yes, there will be a regular stampede,” remarked the -Major—“provided the snow holds off,” he added with a glance at the -grey canopy of cloud overhead. - -“I think we are in for another storm,” said Grant, gazing around. -“If so, the whole country will be sealed up until the spring.” - -“Which is not the worst thing that might happen,” commented Buell -Hampton. - -“Would certainly give us ample time to make all our arrangements for -the future,” concurred Roderick. - -It was agreed that they would take with them that morning the sacks in -which the provisions had been brought up, and bring back as much gold -as they could carry. For a moment Grant and Roderick discussed the -advisability of leaving their guns behind. But there were outlaws among -the mountains, and it was deemed prudent to carry the weapons. - -All preparations were now completed, and a start was made, the stableman -being left in charge of the camp with instructions to have a good fire -of embers ready for the brisket of venison they would return with about -the noontide hour. - -Buell Hampton led the way at a swinging gait, - -Roderick followed, then came Grant Jones singing lustily: - - -“As I was coming down the road, - -Tired team and a heavy load, - -I cracked my whip and the leader sprang - -And the off horse stepped on the wagon tongue.” - - -A little way down the hill Grant called a halt He had discovered on the -light dusting of overnight snow the tracks of a big bear, and for the -moment everything else was forgotten. Bear-hunting to him was of more -immediate interest than gold-hunting, and but for the restraining hand -of Buell Hampton the ardent young sportsman would have started on the -trail. - -“Let’s stop a while,” he pleaded. “Just look at those pads. A -great big cinnamon bear—a regular whale.” - -“No, no,” said the Major decisively, again glancing at the sky. -“We must press on.” - -“I’d like a hug all right,” laughed Roderick, “but not from a -cinnamon bear in a snowdrift.” - -“Gee, but I’m sorry I left my dogs at Dillon,” remarked Grant -regretfully. “The last thing I said to Scotty Meisch was to look after -the dogs even if the printing press burned. There’s no friend like a -good dog, Major.” - -“Rather a doubtful compliment,” replied Buell Hampton with a smile. - -“Present company always excepted,” laughed the editor adroitly. -“Well, well; we must let Mr. Bruin go this time. Lead on, Macduff, -lead on.” - -And again as he fell into Indian file he sang his song. - -The lilt and the words of that song, the picture of the stalwart figure -in the pride of young manhood carolling gaily while marching along -through the brushwood and down the timbered hillside, were des-tined -never to fade from the memory of Roderick Warfield. With a sob in his -heart he would recall the scene many and many a time in the days to -come. - -Meanwhile at the camp fire in Hidden Valley, Grady and Bud Bledsoe were -also afoot. They had awaked from their half drunken slumber, chilled to -the very marrow of their bones. Even the sight of the heap of nuggets -could not at first restore warmth to their hearts. There was no whiskey -left in the flask—not a drain. Their teeth chattering, they piled -fresh brush on the camp fire, and then a half-rotted tree stump that -soon burst into flame. Then when warmth at last crept through their -frames, they too made their plans for the day. - -Buell Hampton and Roderick Warfield might come back. Perhaps they had -camped all night in the mountain cave. In any case it would be safer to -leave the canyon by the other way—by the trail along which Roderick -must have entered and which was quite clearly defined in the snow as it -led up the gorge. Yes; they would clear out in that direction, and Bud -Bledsoe, who knew every track among the mountains, further proposed that -they would then cross the range and take the west road to Rawlins. With -a price on his head he himself could not enter the town—although a -little later some of the new-found gold would square all that, for the -present he must lie low. But he would guide Grady on the way, and the -latter would get into Rawlins first and file the location papers without -anyone at Encampment knowing that he had made the trip. - -“That’s the dope,” cried Bud Bledsoe, as he jumped to his feet and -began stuffing his pockets to their fullest capacity with the big and -little slugs of gold. Grady followed his example. Then both men took up -their guns, Bledsoe also the light but strong hair lariat which was his -constant companion whether he was on horse or foot, and began making -their way up the canyon, following the well-trodden path through the -snow along which Buell Hampton and Roderick had retraced their footsteps -the evening before. - -It was a couple of hours later when the Major, Grant Jones, and Roderick -emerged from the grotto. - -“Good heavens!” exclaimed the Major. “Look there!” And with -extended arm he pointed to the ascending smoke of the camp fire higher -up the valley. - -With the caution of deerstalkers they ascended by the stream. They -found that the camp fire was abandoned. The half-gnawed bones, the empty -whiskey flask, the remnant heap of nuggets, the hollows on the sand -where the two men had slept—all helped to tell the tale. The names on -the substituted location papers completed the story—W. B. Grady’s -name and those of some dummies to hold the ground, illegally but to hold -it all the same. Bud Bledsoe, the outlaw, had not ventured to affix his -own name, but the big whiskey bottle left little doubt as to who had -been Grady’s companion in the canyon overnight. - -The miscreants had departed—the tracks of two men were clearly shown -at a little distance from those left by Roderick and the Major. They had -ascended the gorge. - -“We have them trapped like coyotes,” declared the Major, -emphatically. - -“I’m not so sure about that,” remarked Grant Jones. “If there is -one man in this region who knows the mountain trails and mountain craft -it is Bud Bledsoe. He’ll get out of a box canyon where you or I would -either break our necks to a certainty or remain like helpless frogs at -the bottom of a well. Then I’ve got another idea—a fancy, perhaps, -but I—don’t—just—know.” - -He spoke slowly, an interval between each word, conning the chances -while he prolonged his sentence. - -“What’s your idea?” asked Roderick. But the Major waited in -silence. - -At last Grant’s face lighted up. - -“Yes, by jingo,” he cried, “that may be their plan. If they can -get over the range on to the Ferris-Haggerty road they may make Rawlins -by the western route. That’s why they may have gone up the canyon -instead of returning by the cave. For they came in by the cave; it is -you they followed yesterday, Major, into the valley. The tracks show -that.” - -“I have already satisfied myself on that point,” replied Buell -Hampton. “I have no doubt, since we balked Bledsoe in his previous -attempt, that he has been on my tracks ever since, determined to -find out where I got the rich ore. But it surprises me that a man in -Grady’s position should have descended to be the associate of such a -notorious highwayman.” - -“Oh, moral turpitude makes strange bedfellows,” said Grant, pointing -to the depressions where the two claim-jumpers had slept “But there -is no use in indulging in conjectures at the present time. I’ve a -proposal to make.” - -“Let us hear it,” said the Major. - -“Luckily I brought my skis with me, strapped to one of the burros. -Didn’t know when they might come handy amid all this snow. Well, -I’ll go back to the hut, and I’ll cut across the range, and -will intercept these damned robbers, if that’s their game, to a -certainty.” - -“Rather risky,” remarked Buell Hampton. “Feels like more snow.” -And he sniffed the ambient air. - -“Oh, I’ll be all right. And you’ve got to take risks too. I’ll -give Roderick my rifle, Major, and you take your own. You can follow the -trail of these men, and if they have got out of the canyon, then you can -get out the same way too. If so, we’ll all meet on the range above. -Roderick, you know where the Dillon Trail crosses the Ferris-Haggerty -Road?” - -Roderick nodded assent. - -“Well, we can’t miss each other if we all make for that point. And -if you don’t arrive by noon, I’ll go right on to Rawlins by the -western road, and lodge our location papers. I’ll know you have -Bledsoe and Grady trapped and are holding the ground.” - -“Sounds feasible,” said Roderick. “But first of all we’ve got to -tear down these fraudulent location notices and put our own up -again.” He pointed to one of the corner stakes. “Just look—these -claim-jumpers came provided with regular printed forms.” - -“Well, go ahead with that right now,” said Grant. “No doubt the -papers have been changed too down on the Major’s ground. When you’re -through with that job, follow the trail up the canyon. Now I’m off -for my skis, and then for the road over the hills. Good-by. Take care of -yourselves. Good-by.” - -And down the valley they heard his voice singing the song of the -mountain trail: - - -“As I was coming down the road, - -Tired team and a heavy load, - -I cracked my whip and the leader sprung - -And the off horse stepped on the wagon tongue.” - - -Then his figure disappeared round a bend, and all again was still. - -But Bledsoe and Grady had taken their time in ascending the canyon. -But at last they reached the impasse that had brought Buell Hampton and -Roderick to a halt the previous evening and caused them to retrace their -steps as the tracks revealed. Just as they were discussing whether it -might not be necessary for them also to turn back, a deer dashed wildly -past them on the narrow bench where they stood—so close that they -might have almost touched it with an outstretched hand. - -Grady jumped back, frightened by the sudden bound of the swiftly -speeding animal. - -“Do you know what that means?” asked Bledsoe quietly. - -“We started the deer, I suppose,” stammered Grady. - -“No. But someone else did—lower down the gorge. We are being -trailed, boss. We’ve got to get out of this hole in double-quick time -or chance being shot down from behind a rock.” - -“This wall is impossible,” exclaimed Grady, his frightened face -gazing up the cliff. - -Bledsoe was surveying the situation. - -“Wait a minute,” he said at last. Then he swung his lariat, the -noose of which, going straight to its mark, caught a projecting tree -stump full fifty feet above. - -“If you can make that,” he added, as he pulled the rope tight, -“there’s a ledge running right around and up—see?” He pointed -with his finger, tracing a line along the rocky wall. “Now up you go. -I’ll hold the rope. It’s dead easy.” - -Grady dropped his rifle, and with both hands began to climb. Weighted -with the gold in his pockets, he made the ascent slowly and laboriously. -But at last he gained the ledge, and scrambling now on hands and knees -as he moved further upward and onward he speedily disappeared over the -rim of the cliff. - -On Bledsoe’s lips was a smile of cold contempt. - -“Hell!” he muttered. “I wanted him to pull up the junk first. -However, I’ll manage, I guess.” - -He proceeded to tie to the riata his own and Grady’s rifle. Then he -swung himself aloft. - -But he was not half way up when a rifle bullet flattened itself on the -rock not a foot from his head. - -“Hands up!” came a voice from below. - -“By God, ain’t they up now?” muttered the outlaw grimly, as he -jerked himself to a higher foothold. A few more springs and he was -standing on the ledge. Then, when a second bullet knocked off his hat, -he ducked and scurried along the narrow footway almost as quickly as -Grady had done, and was gone from the view of the two riflemen lower -down the canyon. - -“Come on,” exclaimed Roderick. “They don’t seem to have any -guns. We’ll get them yet.” - -Buell Hampton followed to the foot of the cliff. The rifles tied to the -lariat showed that the fugitives were in truth disarmed, so far at least -as long-distance weapons were concerned. The Major carefully hid the -rifles in a clump of brushwood. - -They were now prepared to follow, but caution had to be used, for Bud -Bledsoe no doubt had a brace of revolvers at his belt. Roderick climbed -up the rope first, while Buell Hampton, with his Springfield raised, -kept watch for the slightest sign of an enemy above. But the fugitives -had not lingered. Roderick, from the edge of the cliff, called on the -Major to make the ascent, and a few minutes later they stood side by -side. - -High up on the snow-clad face of the mountain were the fleeing figures -of Grady and Bledsoe. Yes, they were making in the direction of the -Ferris-Haggerty Road. Grant would certainly intercept them, while -Roderick and the Major stalked the quarry from the rear. - -“I intend to get that thousand-dollar reward for Bud Bledsoe’s -hide,” laughed Roderick, slipping a cartridge into the chamber of his -rifle. - -“We must not shoot to kill,” replied the Major. “It will be -sufficient that they surrender. We have them at our mercy. Come -along.” - -He advanced a few paces, then paused. - -“But there,” he murmured, “I do not like this snow.” He held out -his hand, and a first soft feathery flake settled on his palm. - -“Oh, well be all right,” cried Roderick. “Besides we’ve got to -help Grant.” - -They trudged along, walking zig-zag up the hill to lessen the incline, -but always keeping close to the trail of the men they were pursuing. On -the plateau above the snow lay deeper, and at places they were knee-deep -in the drift, their feet breaking through the thin encrusting surface -which frost had hardened. - -“It is a pity we have not web snowshoes or skis,” remarked Buell -Hampton when they had paused to draw breath. “We could make so much -better time.” - -“Well, the other fellows are no better equipped than ourselves,” -replied Roderick, philosophically. “But, by jingo, it’s snowing some -now.” - -Yes, the feathery flakes were all around them, not blindingly thick as -yet, but certain precursors of the coming storm. The trail was still -quite clear although the fugitives were no longer in sight. - -An hour passed, two hours, three hours—and hunters and hunted still -plodded on. Roderick felt no misgivings, for he could tell from the -lie of the hills that they were making steadily for the junction of -the Ferris-Haggerty Road with the track over the range to Dillon, where -Grant Jones would now be waiting. But at last the snow began to fall -more thickly, and the encircling mountains came to be no longer visible. -Even the guiding footprints were becoming filled up and difficult to -follow. - -All at once Buell Hampton stopped. - -“These men have lost their way,” he exclaimed. - -“They are going round in a circle. Look here—they have crossed their -own track.” - -The evidence was unmistakable. - -“Then what are we to do?” asked Roderick. “I suppose we hardly -know where we are ourselves now,” he added, looking uneasily around. - -“I have my pocket compass—luckily I never travel without it in the -mountains. But I think it is prudent that we should lose no further time -in making for Encampment.” - -“And Grant Jones?” - -“He can look after himself. He is on skis, and knows every foot of the -Dillon trail.” - -“Then Grady and Bledsoe?” - -“Their fate is in other hands. If we follow them any longer we will -undoubtedly be caught in the storm ourselves.” He held a hand aloft. -“See, the wind is rising. There will be heavy drifting before long.” -Roderick now felt the swirl of driven snow on his cheeks. Yes, the wind -had risen. - -“But we’ll endeavor to save them,” continued Buell Hampton. -“Perhaps, as they are circling round, they are not far away from this -spot even now. We will try at all events.” - -And raising both hands to form a voice trumpet, he uttered a loud: -“Hallo I hallo!” - -But no answer came. Again he shouted, again and yet again, turning round -in all directions. Everything remained silent and still. - -The Major now glanced at his compass, and took his bearings. - -“Come,” was all he said, as he led the way through the loose crisp -snow that crunched and cheeped beneath their feet. - -Half an hour later the storm by some strange vagary abated. The wind was -blowing stronger, but it seemed to be driving the snow-laden clouds up -into the higher mountain elevations. All of a sudden a penetrating shaft -of sunshine flashed through the dancing snow-flakes, then the flakes -themselves ceased to fall, and the sun was shining on the virgin mantle -of white that enveloped range and peaks as far as the eye could see. - -Roderick glanced down the mountain side. Almost beneath his feet was -Conchshell Ranch—he could see the home on the little knoll amid the -clustering pine trees. For the moment he was thinking of Gail. But the -hand of Buell Hampton had clutched his shoulder. - -“Look!” - -And Roderick looked—away in the direction of Cow Creek Canyon, a -mighty gash in the flank of the mountains nearly a thousand feet deep -and more than half a mile across. Standing out, clear and distinct in -the bright sunshine, were the tall twin towers on either side of the -gorge, supporting the great steel cable which bridged the chasm -and carried the long string of iron buckets bringing ore from the -Ferris-Haggerty mine, fourteen miles distant, down into the smelter -at Encampment. Roderick at his first glance saw that the aerial cars, -despite the recent snow-storm, were still crawling across the deep -canyon, for all the world like huge spiders on a strand of gossamer. - -But as his eyes swept the landscape he beheld outlined on the white -expanse of snow the figures of three men. One, standing fully a -hundred yards away from the other two and lower down the hill, was the -gorilla-like form of Bud Bledsoe. The others were Grady and Grant Jones -on his skis. - -And as Roderick looked, before he could even utter a cry, these two -figures clutched at each other. For a moment they swayed to and fro, -then Grant seemed to fling his man away from him. - -Almost at the same instant, just as a picture might be blotted from a -screen by cutting off the light, both figures had vanished! Then, like -steam shot from a geyser, there ascended high into mid-air a great -cloud of powdered snow, and to the watchers’ ears came a deep boom -resembling the prolonged and muffled roar of thunder or big artillery. - -“Good God! A snow slide!” gasped Buell Hampton. - -Roderick was stricken dumb. He stood rigid, frozen with horror. He -needed no one to tell him that Grant Jones had gone over the rim of the -canyon, down a thousand feet, smothered under a million tons of snow. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIV—THE PASSING OF GRANT JONES - -EARLY the following morning several hundred searchers were at the scene -of the snow slide in Cow Creek Canyon. Every precaution was taken not to -have anyone walk along near the rim of the gorge a thousand feet above. -There were still hundreds of thousands of tons of snow on the narrow -plateau at the top, which any disturbance, even no greater than a stone -thrown by the hands of a child, might start moving. If another slide -should occur it would overwhelm and crush the intrepid searchers below. - -A systematic probing of the snow with long iron rods had been begun at -once and kept up perseveringly until three o’clock in the afternoon. -Then one of the searchers touched clothing or something with his rod. -The snow was quickly shoveled aside, and at a depth of about seven feet -the body of Grant Jones was found lying flat upon his back with his -right arm stretched out above his head, the left doubled under him. The -face was quite natural—it wore a peaceful smile. None of his clothing -had been disturbed or tom—even his cap and his skis were in place. The -poor fellow had simply been crushed to death or smothered by the many -tons of snow. - -Immediately a makeshift sled was constructed by strapping two skis -together sideways. On this the body was taken up the steep hills by a -cautiously selected route to Battle, three and a half miles away, and -thence on to Encampment, twelve miles farther, the improvised sled being -drawn all the way by strong and willing men of the hills. Accompanying -the remains were Roderick Warfield, Jim Rankin, Boney Earnest, and other -faithful friends, while following came a great cortege of miners, mill -hands, and mountaineers. - -It was midnight before the mournful procession reached town. And -awaiting it even at that late hour was a dense crowd, standing with -bared heads and tear-stained faces. For in all the hill country the -name of Grant Jones was a household word. His buoyant good-nature was -recognized by everyone, and probably he did not have an enemy in all -southern Wyoming where his brief manhood life had been spent. Fully a -thousand people, of both sexes, of all classes and all ages, formed -the escort of the little funeral sled on its last stage to the -undertaker’s establishment. Here the body was received by Major Buell -Hampton and the Reverend Stephen Grannon. It had been the Major’s duty -that day to seek out the clergyman and bring him down in a sledge from -the hills to administer the last sad rites for their dear dead friend. - -Next day the search was resumed for Grady’s remains. Bud Bledsoe it -was known had escaped—the Major had seen him running downhill after -the disaster and others had tracked his footprints, to lose them in a -clump of timber. So there was only one more body to be recovered. The -task of probing with the long iron rods went on for several hours. The -searchers knew the necessity of working both carefully and with speed, -for another snow slide was imminent. And at last it came, toward the -noon hour. But warning had been passed along, so that no lives were -sacrificed, the only result being to pile a veritable mountain of -snow over the spot where Grady’s body presumably lay. The search -was abandoned, without regret on anyone’s part; in the spring the -avalanche would give up its dead; until then the mortal remains of the -unpopular and disgraced capitalist could well remain in their temporary -sepulchre of snow, “unwept, unhonored, and unsung.” - -But for Grant Jones there was public mourning, deep, sincere, and -solemn. Toward evening the whole town of Encampment seemed to be wending -their way to the little church where the Reverend Stephen Gran-non -was to preach the funeral sermon. And these are the words which the -venerable Flockmaster spoke to the hushed and sorrowing congregation. - -“My friends, our hearts today commune with the battalions who have -‘crossed over.’ Love broods above the sleeping dust in a service of -tears. The past is a dream—the future a mystery. Sometimes the tides -of dissolution creep upon us silently. Again they are as stormy seas and -rough breakers that sweep all with reckless cruelty into oblivion. But -whether the parting be one way or the other, in peacefulness or in the -savagery of a storm, to loving hearts it is ever a tragedy. - -“The grief which is ours today is as old as the ages. It brings us -into fellowship with the centuries. We know now why Eve wept for Abel -and David lamented Absalom. Death is the most ancient sculptor in -the world. Ever since men lived and died, death has made each grave -a gallery and filled it with a silent statue. Death hides faults and -magnifies virtues. Death conceals the failings of those who have -passed while lovingly and enduringly chiselling their noble traits of -character. - -“Centuries of philosophy have not succeeded in reconciling men to the -sorrows of dissolution. Death makes us all equal with a mutual sorrow. -We cannot forget our friend who rests here in his final sleep. In happy -symbolism his shroud was whitest snow, and love thrills our hearts with -sympathetic memory. Such love is the kindest service of the soul. - -“Affection for those who have departed has built the mausoleums of the -world and makes every monument an altar of grief. Whether the hope of -immortality is a revelation or an intuition is not under consideration -today. Each man believeth for himself. We know that primitive man away -back in Egypt buried his dead on the banks of the Nile and thought of -immortality. We know that love throughout the ages has touched the heart -with its wings, and hope from the beginning to the end whispers to us -that ‘if a man die he shall live again.’ I believe that the doctrine -of evolution gives a potent hope of immortality. Evolution takes the mud -of the lake and makes a water lily—the hollow reed in the hand of the -savage grows into a modern flute—the rude marks of primitive man -in the stone age become poems and anthems in our own age. If mist can -become stars—if dust can become worlds—if the immortality of biology -is a truism—if love can come from sensations, if the angel of the -brain can spring into being from simple cells, why then cannot the soul -endure forever although undergoing transitions in the course of its -divine development? - -“I believe in the immortality of the soul. I believe in the religion -of humanity. Yes, on the far away rim of eternity, Faith seeks a -beckoning hand and the human heart pulses anew with inspiration and -unfaltering belief in the immortality of the soul. Let us believe -there are songs sung and harps touched and kisses given and greetings -exchanged in that other world. It is better that all other words should -turn to ashes upon the lips of man rather than the word immortality. Our -hearts once filled with this belief—this great truth—then every tear -becomes a jewel, the darkest night flees before the breaking dawn and -every hope turns into reality. - -“Before us, my friends, lies the dust of the dead—Grant Jones. Away -from home—away from father and mother, brother and sister—far up -in these hills where the shoulders of the mountains are clothed with -treacherous banks of sliding snow—he was here seeking to carve out a -destiny for himself, in the morning of early manhood. The Kismet of his -life, clothed in mystery, caused him to lay down his tools and leave to -others his but partially accomplished mission. He was journeying upward -toward life’s mountain-crest—already the clouds were below him and -the stars about him. For do we not know from his gifted writings that -this man held communion with the gods? His heart beat full of loftiest -hope. And then—even before high twelve—he fell asleep. He is gone; -but a myriad of memories of his achievements gather thick about us. We -see him as he was, and this virion will abide with us throughout the -years. - -“He was a student and a scholar. He read books that had souls in -them—he read books that converse with the hearts of men and speak to -them of an exalted life—a life that unfolds an ethical and a higher -duty incumbent upon the children of men. He knew much about the -literature of his day—was acquainted with the great authors through -their writings. Keats was his favorite poet, Victor Hugo his favorite -prose author and ‘Les Misérables’ his favorite book. Music had -a thrilling charm for him. To his heart it was the language of the -eternal. He heard songs in the rocks of towering cliffs, in primeval -forests, in deep gorges, in night winds, in browned grasses and in -tempestuous storms and in the pebbled mountain brooks. - -“We need have no fear for his future, my friends—with him all is -well. A heroic soul, a matchless man, cannot be lost. His heart was a -fountain of love. Virtue was his motto—hope his star—love his guide. -Farewell, Grant, farewell. When with the silent boatman we too shall -cross the river of death and steal away into the infinite, we believe -that you will be standing there in the rosy dawn of eternity to welcome -us, to renew the sweet ties of love and friendship that here on earth -have bound our hearts to yours.” - -Thus spoke the Reverend Stephen Grannon, the Flockmaster of the Hills. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXV.—A CALL TO SAN FRANCISCO - -DOROTHY mourned for Grant Jones—for days she wept and would not be -consoled. Roderick had not seen her since the disaster; when he had -called at the ranch Barbara had brought a message from her room that she -dared not trust herself yet to speak to anyone, least of all to the one -whom she knew to have been Grant’s closest and dearest friend. - -Roderick had now taken apartments in the Bonhomme Hotel—it would -have been too heartrending an experience to return to the shack where -everything was associated with the memory of his lost comrade. It had -been his painful task to pack the books, the little ornaments, the -trophies of the chase, the other odds and ends of sacred relics, and -send them back East to the old folks at home. He had known it to have -been Grant’s own wish that, when death should come, his body should -rest among the hills of Wyoming. So when a simple headstone had been -placed on the grave in God’s acre at Encampment, the last sad duty -had been performed. Grief was now deadened. The sweet pleasures of fond -reminiscence remained, the richest legacy that man can leave behind him. - -Buell Hampton and Roderick never met without speaking of Grant, without -recalling some pleasant episode in their association, some brilliant or -thoughtful contribution he had made to their past conversations. With -the aid of fragments of torn paper that had been clutched in the dead -man’s left hand, the hand that had been doubled under him when the -body was found, they had pieced together the story of that fateful -encounter with Grady. The latter, bent on discovering and jumping Buell -Hampton’s secret mine, had carried into the mountains the proper -declaration papers in printed forms, with only the blanks to be filled -in—name, date, exact location, etc. Grant must have become aware that -these papers were all ready signed in Grady’s pocket—perhaps -in defiance the claim-jumper had flaunted them in his face. For the -struggle had been for the possession of these documents, the torn -quarters of which were still in Grant’s hand when the fatal -dislodgement of snow had taken place. The full infamy of Grady’s long -contrived plot was revealed. Righteously indeed had he gone to his doom. - -A week had passed when Roderick found a letter on the breakfast table at -his hotel. It was from Barbara Shields. - -“My dear Mr. Warfield:— - -“I write to tell you that we are going to California—to spend -the winter in Los Angeles. We are all sorrow-stricken over the great -calamity up in the hills, and Dorothy—the poor dear girl is simply -stunned. I have known for a long while that she was very fond of Grant, -but I had no idea of the depths of her feelings. - -“Papa says Mama and I must start at once and endeavor to cheer up -Dorothy and help her forget as much as possible the sadness of this -terrible affair. - -“Mr. Bragdon called last night, and is to be our escort to the coast. -We shall probably return about the first of May. Please accept this as -an affectionate good-by for the time being from us all. - -“With cordial good wishes, - -“Sincerely your friend, - -“Barbara.” - -Meanwhile snow had been descending off and on day after day, until now -the whole of the mountain country was effectively sealed. Evidently a -rigorous winter had set in, and it would be many months before Hidden -Valley would be again accessible. Roderick was not sorry—the very -mention of gold and mining had become distasteful to his ears. Even when -with the Major, they, never now spoke about the secret canyon and its -hoarded treasures—in subtle sympathy with each other’s feelings the -subject was tabooed for the present Bud Bledsoe had disappeared from the -district, no doubt temporarily enriched by the nuggets with which he had -filled his pockets. In the spring most likely he would return and rally -his gang of mountain outlaws. But until then there need be no worry -about the snow-enshrouded claims, the location papers for which had -been now duly registered at the county seat in the names of their proper -owners. - -Buell Hampton had his books and his work for the poor wherewith to -occupy his mind. Roderick found his consolation at the smelter. Early -and late now he worked there, learning the practical operations -from Boney Earnest, mastering the business details with the aid of a -trustworthy old clerk whose services had been retained as secretary. -Boney, having been made the choice of his brother foremen in accordance -with the new plan of operations, was duly confirmed in his position of -general manager, while Roderick, formally elected vice-president by the -board, held the salaried and responsible post of managing-director. - -Major Hampton withdrew himself more and more into the seclusion of his -library; he rarely came to the smelter plant; he left everything in -Roderick’s hands once he had become satisfied of the young man’s -aptitude for the work; he was content to read the managing director’s -weekly report showing steady progress all along the line—increased -output, decreased operating costs, large reductions in waste and -breakages, in a word the all-round benefits resulting from friendly -cooperation between capital and labor, no longer treating each other -as enemies, but pulling together in happy conjunction and for mutual -advantage. - -Another circumstance contributing to the general harmony of the -community was the departure of W. Henry Carlisle, the deposed attorney -of the smelter company. One of Senator Greed’s hirelings, Carlisle had -been rewarded by that master of political jobbery with a judgeship in -Alaska. Thus was the whole country made to pay the price of shameful -underhand services that had tainted the very atmosphere and might well -have caused the man in the moon to hold his nose when crossing the state -of Wyoming. - -However, Carlisle’s going put an end to much bitterness and squabbling -in Encampment, and now month succeeded month in peaceful routine. As -both smelter and mine were now working Sundays as well as week days, -Roderick could rarely take a day off—or at least he would not allow -himself a day off. - -However, along with Major Buell Hampton he was the guest of Mr. Shields -for Christmas Day dinner, and learned the latest news of the exiles in -California; that mother and daughters were well, Dorothy something like -her old happy self if chastened with a sorrow that would always leave -its memory, and all thoroughly enjoying the unaccustomed luxury of a -winter of warmth and perpetual sunshine. There was another item in Mr. -Shields’ budget. Whitley Adams had spent a month in the capital of -the southwest, had brought along his big touring car, and had given the -girls no end of a good time. - -“What took him to Los Angeles?’ asked Roderick. - -“Oh, important banking business, Barbara says,” replied Mr. Shields -quite innocently. - -Roderick smiled. “Would Dorothy be consoled,” he asked himself. The -enterprising youth certainly deserved the prize; Roderick recalled -the mirthful warning sent to dear old Grant in the latter’s dilatory -courting days about the tempting peach and the risk of a plundering -hand. Indeed Whitley and Grant had been wonderfully akin in their boyish -good-nature and irrepressible enthusiasm. With Grant gone, it seemed -quite natural that Whitley and Dorothy should be drawn together. -Roderick could wish no greater happiness for Dorothy, no better luck for -his old college chum. Such was the train of his musing the while -Buell Hampton and their host were discussing the wonderful growth and -unbounded future of Los Angeles, the beautiful city of garden homes and -cultured family life. - -For New Year’s Day Roderick was invited to the Holdens’ place, and -spent a delightful afternoon and evening. Gail sang and played, and the -General seemed to be mightily interested in all the wonderful results -being achieved at the smelter under the new régime. Gail listened -somewhat distrait, but when the conversation about ores and fluxes -and cupola furnaces and all that sort of thing seemed likely to be -indefinitely prolonged she stole back to her piano and began singing to -herself, soft and low. - -And presently, while the General meandered on in a disquisition about -refractory ores, Roderick was no longer paying attention. He was -listening to the warbling of a thrush in the forest, and his straining -ears caught the words of the song—“Just a-Wearyin’ for You.” A -thrill ran through his nerves. He excused himself to the General, -and crossed over to the piano. Gail instantly changed her song; by a -skillful transition she was humming now, “Ye Banks and Braes o’ -Bonnie Dhon.” But their eyes met, and she blushed deeply. - -During the following weeks Roderick thought much and often about the -beautiful Gail Holden, and occasionally now he would relax from business -duties to enjoy a gallop with her on a sunny afternoon over the foothill -ranges. They talked on many themes, and, although words of love were -as yet unspoken, there came to them the quiet sense of happiness in -companionship, of interest in each other’s thoughts and undertakings, -of mutual understanding that they were already closer and dearer to each -other than friendship alone could make them. - -Spring was now rapidly approaching. The meadowlarks were singing, and -the grass beginning to grow green in the valleys and foothills, the wild -flowers to paint the slopes and dells in vivid colors. General Holden -had several days before gone to San Francisco, to visit his brother -there in regard to some family business. Gail had been unable to -accompany her father; she had declared that the little ranch at this -season required all her attention. To comfort her in her loneliness -Roderick had promised to go riding with her for an hour or two every -afternoon. This pleasant duty had been properly fulfilled for several -days, and one afternoon, with Badger ready saddled in front of his -office, the young vice-president of the smelter company was just -clearing up a few items of business at his desk before mounting and -taking the road for the Conchshell Ranch. - -A telegram was laid at his hand. He opened it casually, talking the -while with Boney Earnest. But when he saw the name on the slip of paper, -he started erect. The message was from Gail, and had come from Rawlins: -“My father is in hospital, having met with a street accident in San -Francisco. Have just had time to catch the afternoon train at Rawlins. -My address will be the Palace Hotel. Will telegraph news about father on -arrival.” - -“Good God!” exclaimed Roderick. “She has taken that journey alone. -And no one to help her in her trouble and sorrow.” - -There was no alternative—he could but wait with all the patience -he could command for the next day’s overland. For he had instantly -resolved to follow Gail. Like a flash had come the revelation how deeply -he loved the girl; it had only needed the presence of tribulation to -cause the long-smouldering spark of the fire divine in his heart to leap -into flame—to make him realize that, come weal, come woe, his place -now was by her side. - -That afternoon he made all his preparations for departure. The evening -he spent with Buell Hampton, and frankly told his friend of his great -love for Gail. The Major listened sympathetically. - -“All the world loves a lover,” he said, a kindly glow upon his face. -“Humanity demands, conscience approves, and good people everywhere -applaud the genial and glowing warmth of honest love of man for maid. -And I commend the choice of your heart, Roderick, for surely nowhere -can be found a finer woman than Gail Holden. Go in and win, and may good -luck follow you. For friendship’s sake, too, I think it highly proper -you should proceed at once to San Francisco and look after General -Holden. I hope he is not dangerously hurt.” - -“I have no other information except this telegram,” replied -Roderick. “But I’ll surely wire you from San Francisco.” - -Jim Rankin drove the stage next morning. Roderick took his accustomed -place on the box seat, and listened to Jim’s accustomed flow of -language on all the local topics of interest. But during the long -drive of fifty miles there was only one little part of the one-sided -conversation that Roderick ever remembered. - -“Yes, siree,” Jim said, “all the folks is readin’ books these -days. I myself have took the craze—I’ve got a book about the horse -out of our new libr’y an’ I’ll be dog-busted if I ever knew the -critter had so many bones. Tom Sun is readin’ about wool growin’ in -Australia, and is already figgerin’ on gettin’ over Tasmanian merino -blood for his flocks. And I’m danged if old Wren the saloon-keeper -ain’t got stuck with a volume on temperance. ‘Ten Bar-Rooms in -One Night’. no, by gunnies, that’s not it—’Ten Nights in a -Bar-Room’—now I’ve got it right Guess it will do him a power -o’ good too. Then all the young fellers have started goin’ to night -classes. I tell you the Reverend Grannon with his schools an’ his -libr’ies is just workin’ wonders. An’ who do you think is his -right hand man, or boy, or devil—call him which you like?” - -“Who?” asked Roderick vaguely. - -“Scotty Meisch, that little tad of a cow-puncher you and poor old -Grant Jones took up and made a printer’s devil of. Well, the parson -got his hooks in him and tells me he’s turned out to be a first-class -organizer—that’s his word. It’s Scotty who goes around, starts -each new lib’iy, and sets the machin’ry goin’ smooth an’ proper. -It’s a case of a round peg in a round hole, although who the hell -would have thought it?” - -Roderick was pleased to hear this good news of Scotty Meisch, but, -returning to his thoughts about Gail, failed to follow Jim as the latter -switched off into another line of “unbosomings.” - -He was glad to be alone at last and in the drawing room of the Pullman -car which he had reserved by telegraph. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVI—IN THE CITY THAT NEVER SLEEPS - -AFTER a tedious and delayed trip of three days and nights Roderick’s -train steamed onto the mole at Oakland. During the last night he had -refused to have the berth in his drawing room made down, and had lounged -and dozed in his seat, occasionally peering out of the car window. The -hour was late—almost three o’clock in the morning. The train should -have arrived at seven o’clock the evening before. - -There was the usual scramble of disembarking, red-capped porters -pressing forward to carry hand baggage from the train to the ferryboat. - -“Last boat to San Francisco will leave in five minutes,” was shouted -from somewhere, and Roderick found himself with his valise in hand being -pushed along with the throng of passengers who had just alighted from -the train. Once on the ferryboat, he climbed to the upper deck and went -well forward for the view. The waters of the bay were illumed with a -half-crescent moon. Far across, six miles away, was San Francisco with -its innumerable lights along the waterfront and on the slopes of her -hills. To the right were Alcatras Island and the lighthouse. - -Then the sharp ping-ping of bells sounded and the great wheels of -the boat began to turn. Roderick was filled with the excitement of -an impatient lover. “Gail, Gail, Gail,” his throbbing heart kept -thrumming. Would he be able to find her? San Francisco was a strange -city to Gail as well as to himself. She had been on the train ahead of -him, and might by this time have left the Palace Hotel, the address -her telegram had given. But he had learned from one of the porters -that Gail’s train had been greatly delayed and would not have arrived -before eleven o’clock the previous night. He reasoned that she would -perforce have gone to the hotel at such a late hour, and would wait -until morning to hunt up the hospital where her father was being cared -for. - -The boat had hardly touched the slip and the apron been lowered than he -bounded forward, hastened through the ferryhouse and came out into -the open where he was greeted by the tumultuous calls of a hundred -solicitous cab-drivers. Roderick did not stand on the order of things, -but climbing into the first vehicle that offered directed to be taken to -the Palace Hotel. - -Arriving at the hotel Roderick paid his fare while the door porter -took possession of his grips. Glancing at a huge clock just over the -cashier’s desk, he noticed the hour was three-thirty a. m. Taking -the pen handed to him by the rooming clerk, he signed his name on the -register, and then let his eyes glance backward over the names of -recent arrivals. Ah, there was the signature of Gail Holden. Fortune was -favoring him and he breathed a silent prayer of thankfulness that he had -overtaken her. - -Yes, he would serve her. He would help her. She should see and she -should know without his telling her, that nothing else mattered if he -could only be with her, near her and permitted to relieve her of all -troubles and difficulties. - -“Show the gentleman to his room,” said the night clerk and bowed to -Roderick with a cordial good night. - -As Roderick turned and followed the boy to the elevator, he realized -that he was not sleepy—indeed that he was nervously alert and wide -awake. After the boy had brought a pitcher of ice-water to the room, -received his tip and departed, Roderick sat down to think it all over. -But what was the use? “I cannot see her until perhaps eight o’clock -in the morning. However, I will be on the outlook and in waiting when -she is ready for breakfast. And then—” his heart was beating fast -“I certainly am terribly upset,” he acknowledged to himself. - -Taking up his hat, he went out, locked the door, rang for the elevator -and a minute later was out on the street. He was still wearing his -costume of the mountains—coat, shirt, trousers, and puttees, all of -khaki, with a broad-brimmed sombrero to match. A little way up Market -Street he noticed a florist’s establishment. Great bouquets of -California roses were in the windows, chrysanthemums and jars of -violets. - -He walked on, deciding to provide himself later on with a floral -offering wherewith to decorate the breakfast table. He had often heard -San Francisco described as a city that turned night into day, and the -truth of the remark impressed him. Jolly crowds were going along -the streets singing in roistering fashion—everyone seemed to be -good-natured—the cafés were open, the saloon doors swung both ways -and were evidently ready for all-comers. When he came to -Tate’s restaurant, he went down the broad marble steps and -found—notwithstanding the lateness or rather earliness of the -hour—several hundred people still around the supper tables. The scene -had the appearance of a merry banquet where everyone was talking at the -same time. An air of joviality pervaded the place. The great fountain -was throwing up glittering columns of water through colored lights as -varied as the tints of a rainbow. The splash of the waters, the cool -spray, the wealth of ferns and flowers surrounding this sunken garden in -the center of a great dining room—the soft strains of the orchestra, -all combined to fill Roderick with wonder that was almost awe. He sank -into a chair at a vacant little table near the fountain and endeavored -to comprehend it all He was fresh from the brown hills, from the gray -and purple sage and the desert cacti, from the very heart of nature, so -utterly different to this spectacle of a bacchanalian civilization. - -The wilderness waif soon discovered that he would be de trop unless he -responded to the urgent inquiries of the waiter as to what he would have -to drink. - -“A bottle of White Rock to begin with,” ordered Roderick. - -As he was sipping the cold and refreshing water it occurred to him that -he had not tasted food since breakfast the day before in the dining car -of the train. Yes, he would have something to eat and he motioned to the -waiter. - -After giving his order he had to wait a long time, and the longer he -waited the hungrier he became. Presently a generous steak was placed -before him. Potatoes au gratin, olives, asparagus, and French peas made -up the side dishes, and a steaming pot of coffee completed a sumptuous -meal. - -When he had paid his check he discovered it was almost five o’clock -in the morning, and as he mounted the marble stairway he laughingly -told himself he wouldn’t have much of an appetite at seven or eight -o’clock when he came to sit down at the breakfast table with Gail -Holden. Gaining the sidewalk he found that darkness was shading into -dawn. - -Instead of returning by way of Market Street, Roderick lit a cigar and -turning to the right walked up a cross street toward the St. Francis -Hotel. In front was a beautiful little park; shrubbery and flowers lined -the winding walks, while here and there large shade trees gave an added -touch of rural charm. - -He seated himself on one of the iron benches, took out his watch and -counted up the number of minutes until, probably, he would see the -object of his heart’s desire. How slow the time was going. He heard -the laughter of a banqueting party over at the Poodle Dog, although at -the time he did not know the place by name. - -“Yes,” he murmured, “San Francisco is certainly in a class by -itself. This is the land where there is no night.” - -The contrast between the scenes in this gay city and the quiet hill -life away up among the crags, the deep canyons and snow-clad peaks of -southern Wyoming was indeed remarkable. - -It was the morning of April eighteen, 1906, and the night had almost -ended. There was a suggestion of purple on the eastern horizon—the -forerunner of coming day. The crescent moon was hanging high above Mt. -Tamalpais. - -The town clock tolled the hour of five and still Roderick waited. -Presently he was filled with a strange foreboding, a sense of -oppression, that he was unable to analyze. He wondered if it presaged -refusal of the great love surging in his heart for Gail Holden, the fair -rider of the ranges, the sweet singer of the hills. An indescribable -agitation seized him. - -The minutes went slowly by. His impatience increased. He looked again at -his watch and it was only a quarter after five. The city was wrapped in -slumber. - -Then suddenly and without warning Roderick was roughly thrown from his -seat and sent sprawling onto the grass among the shrubbery. He heard -an angry growling like the roar from some rudely awakened Goliath of -destruction deep down in earth’s inner chambers of mystery—a roar -of wrath and madness and resistless power. The ground was trembling, -reeling, upheaving, shaking and splitting open into yawning fissures, -while hideous noises were all around. Buildings about the park were -being rent asunder and were falling into shapeless heaps of ruin. - -Struggling to his feet, his first impulse was to hasten to the hotel -and protect Gail. As he arose and started to run he was again thrown to -earth. The bushes whipped the turf as if swished to and fro by an unseat -hand. For a moment Roderick was stunned into inaction—stricken with -the paralysis of unspeakable fear. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVII—RODERICK RESCUES GAIL - -IT WAS but a few seconds until Roderick was again on his feet Hurriedly -taking his bearings, he started off through the little park in the -direction of the Palace Hotel. In the uncertain morning dawn the -people from innumerable bedrooms above the stores were pouring into the -streets. They were scantily attired, most of them simply in their night -garments, and all were dazed and stunned with a terrible fright Before -Roderick had reached Market Street the thoroughfare was almost blocked -by this frantic and half-clothed mass of humanity. His powerful athletic -frame and his football experience stood him in good stead, although -here roughness had to be exchanged for greatest gentleness. He was very -persistent, however, in his determination to reach the hotel in time if -possible to be of assistance to Gail. - -Less than ten feet in front of where he was crowding his way through -the throng of people a portion of a cornice came tumbling down from -far above. A wailing cry went up from the unfortunates pinned beneath. -Roderick leaped quickly forward and with the strength of a Hercules -began to heave aside the great blocks of stone. Others recognized his -leadership, instantly obeyed his commands and lent their united strength -in helping to release three men who had been caught under debris. The -cries of the injured were piteous. Indifferent to the danger of falling -bricks and mortar Roderick caught up one poor fellow in his arms and -carried him as if he were a babe into a receding doorway. - -“My legs, my legs,” the victim moaned. “They’re -broken—they’re broken.” - -Quickly removing his coat Roderick placed it beneath the man’s head -for a pillow, and leaving others to guard, he hastened back to the scene -of the tragedy, only to find that the spark of life had now gone out -from the other two bodies pitifully maimed and crushed. - -He pushed his way into the middle of the street amid the surging mob, -and again turned his steps toward the Palace Hotel. At last he found -himself near to the entrance of the great hostelry. But everyone was -seeking to escape and rushing to the street in riotous disorder. By dint -of indefatigable efforts he managed to get within the gateway and then -to the large trysting room across the hall from the hotel office. A -group of women were endeavoring to revive a poor sufferer who evidently -had fainted. Approaching, he saw blood coursing down the fair face of -the unfortunate. - -“My God!” he exclaimed. “It is Gail.” - -An instant later he had gently pushed the helpers aside and gathered -the girl in his strong arms. Moving backwards, forcing a passage step by -step with the determination of one who acts intuitively in a crisis, -he managed to gain the open. He hoped the air would restore Gail to -consciousness. - -Crossing to the other side of the street where the throng was less dense -he started toward a high hill that rose up far away. It was covered -with residences, and if he could once reach that vantage point with his -charge he felt sure it would be an asylum of safety. The distance was -considerable and presently the way became steep. But he was unconscious -of any weight in the burden he carried. His only thought was to get Gail -away from the burning, falling buildings—away from the central part of -the city which was now a fiery pit wrapped in sheets of devouring flame. - -Finally attaining the eminence—it was Nob Hill although he did not -know the name—he found the porches and front lawns of the beautiful -houses filled with frightened people viewing the scene in awe and -amazement. Formalities were forgotten; solicitude and helpful kindness -reigned supreme among all the people of the stricken city. - -He called to a little group huddled on the front porch of their home. -“Here is a lady,” Roderick explained, “who has been injured and -fainted. Will you please get water and help to revive her?” - -In hurried eagerness to assist they quickly brought a cot to the porch -and upon this Roderick gently placed the still unconscious girl. Her -face was deathly white, and a great red gash was discovered across one -side of her head, from which the blood was trickling down the marble -cheek. The wound was bandaged by tender hands and the face laved with -cooling water. After a little Gail opened her eyes and asked piteously: -“Where am I? Where am I?” - -“You are safe,” said Roderick as he knelt by her side. - -“Oh, is it you, Mr. Warfield? How glad—how glad I am to see you. -Where am I?” - -“In San Francisco. Don’t you remember?” - -“Yes, yes, I remember now,” she replied weakly and lifted one hand -to her aching head. “But papa?—where is my father?” - -“I am going to look for him now. You are with kind people and they -will care for you. Rest quietly and be patient until I return.” - -Her dark blue eyes looked helplessly up into his for a moment; then he -turned and was gone. - -Roderick rushed down the hill, back to the scene of devastation where -he might be useful in helping to save human life, determined also in -his heart to find General Holden. But where was he? In some hospital, as -Gail’s telegram had told. - -He was debating with himself whether he should return to seek some -directions from Gail. But just then the surging, swaying crowd pushed -him irresistibly back, then swept him away along Market Street. The -Palace Hotel was on fire. Policemen and firemen were thrusting the -people away from the known danger line. - -Just then he heard a voice crying out in heart-rending anguish: “My -little girl’, my little girl.” It was a frantic mother weeping and -looking far up to the seventh story of a building she evidently had just -left. There leaning out of a window was a curly haired tot of a child, -perhaps not more than four years old, laughing and throwing kisses -toward her mama, all unconscious of danger. - -“I came down,” sobbed the weeping mother to those around, “to see -what had happened. The stairway is now on fire, and I cannot return. -Will no one, oh Lord, will no one save my little girl?” - -Roderick looked up to where the woman was pointing and saw the child. - -“My God!” he exclaimed, “smoke is coming out of the next -window.” He noticed that the adjoining building was already a mass of -fire. At a glance he took in the situation. - -“Hold on a minute,” he shouted. “I will try.” - -There was an outside fire escape that led from the top story down to -the first floor. Roderick made a leap, caught hold of the awning braces, -pulled himself up with muscles of steel, and grasped the lowermost rung -of the escape. A moment later he was making his way up the narrow -iron ladder, pushing through the aperture at each floor, with almost -superhuman swiftness. When he reached the window he lifted the child in -his arms and hastily started on the downward journey. - -“Hold tight, little girl,” was all Roderick said as he felt the -confiding clasp of her tiny arms about his neck. - -Many of the people below besides the almost frenzied mother were -watching the heroic deed with bated breath. Just then a cry of terror -went up. The great wall of a burning building across the street was -toppling outward and a moment later collapsed, burying many unhappy -victims beneath the avalanche of broken brick and mortar. - -Whether the little girl’s mother had been caught by the falling wall -or not Roderick had no means of determining. A choking cloud of dust, -ash, soot and smoke enveloped him in stifling darkness; he could hardly -breathe. The very air was heated and suffocating. But down and down he -went with his little burden clinging tightly to him. Arriving at the -awnings he swung himself over, secured a momentary foothold, then -grasped the braces with his hands and dropped to the littered sidewalk -below. - -The mother of the girl was nowhere to be seen. He turned down the street -to get away from the horrible sight of the dead and the piteous cries of -the dying. He had scarcely reached the next corner when the child, who -was mutely clinging to him as if indeed she knew he was her savior, -released her arms and called out gleefully: “Oh, there’s mama, mama, -mama.” Then the mother stood before him, weeping now for joy, and -through her tears Roderick saw a face of radiance and a smile of -gratitude that time or eternity would never erase from his memory. - -Nothing mattered now—her little girl was safe in her arms. “I -don’t know who you are, sir,” she exclaimed, “but I owe to you the -life of my child, and may the good God bless you.” - -But this was no time for thanks. Roderick was looking upward. - -“Come quickly,” he shouted, “come this way—hasten.” And he -pulled them down a side street and away from another sky-scraper that -was trembling and wavering as if about to fall. - -They turned, and ran along a street that was still free from fire and -led toward the St. Francis Hotel and the little park fronting it where -Roderick had sat at dawn. Carefully he guided the woman’s steps, -keeping to the middle of the street, for the sidewalk was encumbered -with debris and threatened by partly dislodged brickwork above. Here and -there the roadway was rumpled and rough as a washboard by reason of the -earthquake, while at places were great gaping fissures where the earth -had been split open many feet deep. But soon they were in the open -square, and mother and child were safe. Knowing this, Roderick allowed -them to pass on—to pass out of his life without even the asking or the -giving of names. - -For there was other work to his hand; he hurried back to the last -crossing. There under the fallen débris, was a woman obviously of -refinement and wealth whose life had been vanquished without warning. -One hand was extended above the wreckage. It was shapely and encircled -with a bracelet, while a single diamond solitaire ring adorned her -finger—perhaps a betrothal ring. Two human ghouls—not men—had -whipped out their ready knives and were in the very act of severing the -finger to obtain the jewel. It was these brutes that Roderick had come -back to face. - -Like a flash he leaped forward and with a well directed sledge-hammer -blow felled one of these would-be robbers of the dead. Then he grappled -with the second scoundrel. The man in his grip was none other than the -outlaw, Bud Bledsoe! - -With knife already open and in his hand the inhuman wretch slashed -Roderick’s cheek, and the red blood spurted down his face and neck. -Roderick loosed his hold and stepped back a pace—the next gash of this -kind might easily be a fatal one. But not for one instant did he lose -his presence of mind or nerve. As the cowardly miscreant advanced, cruel -murder in his eyes, Roderick by a swift swing of his right parried the -upraised hand that held the knife, and then, seizing the opening, he -delivered with his left a smashing uppercut. Bledsoe reeled for a moment -like a drunken man, then sank to the ground a huddled heap, and finally -rolled over kicking convulsively and quite insensible. - -The knockout had been effected quickly and well—like a butcher would -fell a bullock. - -Already the devastated city was under martial law, and three or four -soldiers coming hurriedly up just then, and having seen from the -opposite corner the hellish attempt of the two wretches to despoil the -dead, shot them instantly, Bledsoe where he lay writhing, the other as -he staggered dazed-like to his feet. - -Roderick wiped the blood from his face, and thanked the soldiers. -“Good for you, young fellow,” cried one of them as they continued on -their way. - -His wound forgotten, Roderick again looked round to see where he could -render the most efficient service. - -The night came on, and he was still at work, rescuing and helping. He -had been recognized by the Citizens’ Committee of Safety and now wore -a badge that gave him the freedom of the streets. In all his goings -and comings he was ever looking for General Holden, and he also made -numerous trips to Nob Hill, searching for the house where he had left -Gail. But he could never find the place again, for the raging fire was -fast obliterating all guiding landmarks. - -Thus for two days—terrible days, pitiful days—for two -nights—terrible nights, pitiful nights—Roderick drifted with the -bands of rescuers, doing deeds of valor and of helpfulness for others -less strong than himself. His face was black with soot and clotted with -blood, his coat he had parted with at the beginning of the disaster, -the rest of his clothing was tattered and torn, his sombrero had -disappeared, when and how he had not the faintest notion. - -The fire had now burned out its center circle and was eating away at the -rim in every direction. Roderick suddenly remembered he had tasted no -food since his early breakfast at Tate’s an hour before the earthquake -crash. The pangs of hunger had begun to make themselves felt, and he -concluded to turn his steps toward the outer fire line and endeavor to -find something to eat. - -As he walked along from house to house he found them all deserted. Some -of the household goods were scattered about the lawns, while boxes, -trunks, and bulky packages were piled on the sidewalks. Presently he -found a basket which contained a single loaf of bread. This he ate -ravenously, and counted it the greatest feast he had ever had in -his life. He ate as he hurried along, thinking of Gail and General -Holden—wishing he might divide the bread with them. - -The roar of consuming, crackling flames, the deep intonations of -intermittent dynamite explosions, and the occasional wail of human -beings in distress, rose and fell like a funeral dirge. - -His feet intuitively turned back to the burned district. There might -yet be more work for him to do. - -He determined to pick his way across the ruins, and ascending the hill -opposite make another desperate effort to find Gail. After a fatiguing -climb over hot embers and around the twisted steel skeletons of -burned-out buildings he finally stood on the rim of the hill above the -saucer-shaped valley of flames. Only charred and smoking ruins were -about him. The beautiful residential district had like the business -sections below, been swept with the fires of destruction. - -Where was Gail? Was she safe? Was she dead? Would he ever find her? -These were some of the questions that kept him in agonizing incertitude. - -There was a weird uncanny attraction about this great amphitheatre of -flame—an attraction like that of a lodestone; and he feared lest Gail -had left her refuge in a vain search for her father and met with another -serious accident. Roderick had visited all the unburned hospitals, but -no trace of General Holden had he been able to find. The quest for both -must be resumed; so down the hill he trudged again. - -Ashes and burning cinders were falling like huge flakes of snow. -Once more Roderick was in the midst of a throng of people—gaunt and -hollow-eyed, wearied and worn-out, just staggering along. At last he -recognized the little park in front of the St. Francis Hotel. Yes, he -would go there, stretch himself on the grass, and rest and sleep for at -least a few hours. This would make him ill the fitter for his task of -searching. - -Just as he was about to cross the street a dozen people shouted for him -to look out; but he did not turn quickly enough to discover nor escape -a burning wooden rafter that fell from the upper story of a building and -struck him an ugly glancing blow on the head. Roderick dropped to the -ground unconscious. - -At this very moment a Red Cross automobile was passing. It stopped -abruptly at the sidewalk. Two men stepped quickly down and lifted the -almost lifeless body into the machine. A moment later the auto glided -away down a side street in the direction of Golden Gate Park. - -That night there were many in the camps of refuge around the burning -city who thought about the tall, strong-muscled, square-jawed young -stranger in khaki garb, while their hearts welled up with gratitude -for his timely assistance and chivalrous deeds of bravery. Had they -but known of the fate that had at last befallen their nameless hero, -grateful thoughts would have been turned into fervent prayers. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVIII—THE SEARCH FOR RODERICK - -THE general shock of horror caused by the San Francisco disaster was -intensified at Encampment when the news ran round that three local -people had been in the stricken city at the moment of the earthquake -shock which had laid the business centre in ruins and prepared the way -for the subsequent far-sweeping conflagration. No telegram came from -either the Holdens or Roderick Warfield, and their silence, their -failure to relieve the anxiety of the friends they must have known -were deeply concerned about their safety, could only cause ominous -conjectures as to their fate. There was no possibility of reaching them -by wire, for the Palace Hotel, the only known address, had been one of -the first buildings destroyed. - -But Buell Hampton did not wait for telegrams to reach him. He had -no sooner been apprised of the catastrophe than he was on his way to -Rawlins, hiring a special conveyance on the mere off-chance that railway -schedules would have been disarranged and a train might be caught at any -moment. In this he showed his usual good judgment for within an hour of -reaching the station he was on board a belated limited, in which he had -the further good fortune to find one solitary sleeping berth unoccupied. -The train was loaded with returning San Francisco people who had -been absent when their homes had been swept away, anxious friends of -sufferers, doctors, nurses, relief workers of every kind, newspaper men, -all hurrying to the scene of sorrow and suffering. - -It was on the morning of the fifth day after the earthquake that Buell -Hampton, provided with a special permit, at last found himself amid the -ruins of San Francisco. Many buildings were still burning or smoldering, -but the area of destruction was now defined and the spread of the flames -checked. With saddened heart the Major picked his way along what once -had been Market Street but was now a long mound of fallen stones, -bricks, and mortar lined by the skeletons of lofty iron-framed -buildings. Here the work of clearing away the debris in search of -victims was in progress. But any inquiries of those actively engaged in -these operations were useless. Buell Hampton passed on. - -Suddenly he came upon the bread line, a wonderful sight—a long row of -people of all sorts and conditions, the rich, the poor, the educated, -the ignorant, the well dressed, the tattered, ranged in single file and -marching slowly past the commissary to receive a supply of provisions -for their own famishing selves or for their destitute families. Buell -Hampton scanned each face; neither General Holden nor Roderick were in -the line, nor was there any sign of Gail. - -Then he began a systematic visitation of the refuge camps that had been -formed around the bumed-out area. The remainder of that first day he -spent in Golden Gate Park. It was not until the succeeding afternoon -that he found himself in the crowded tent city out on the Presidio. -Here at last his patient and persistent efforts were rewarded. He caught -sight of Gail seated near the door of a tiny tent-house and strode -eagerly forward to greet her. In his deep emotion he folded the young -girl to his breast, and she in turn clung to him in her joy of meeting -at last a dear friend from home. - -“Where is your father?” was the Major’s first inquiry. - -“He is safe. We have this little tent, and I am nursing him. His right -arm was broken in the street accident, but immediately after the fire -began all the hospital patients were removed to open places, and here -I found him, thank God, the very first evening. You see, my uncle’s -house was burned. He is quartered across the bay at Oakland.” - -“Your head is bandaged, Gail. Were you badly hurt?” - -“Oh, that was nothing,” she replied, pulling off the narrow band of -linen that encircled her brow. “Just a little scalp wound when I fell, -and it is quite healed now. But, oh, I remember so little about the -terrible disaster—how I got out of the Palace Hotel at all.” - -“And Roderick—where is Roderick?” asked Buell Hampton. - -Gail’s eyes opened wide—with wonder, then with fear. - -“Roderick, Roderick!” she exclaimed in a trembling voice. “Then it -was not a dream?” - -“What dream?” - -“That it was he who carried me out of the hotel building and to the -veranda of the house where he laid me on a cot and kind friends bathed -my wound.” - -“No dream, this. It was Roderick for certain. He followed you on the -next train to San Francisco—intending to go straight to the Palace -Hotel.” - -“Followed me? Why did he follow me?” - -“To render you help when your father was hurt—because he loves -you—of course, you must have divined how deeply he loves you.” - -The color rose slowly to Gail’s face. But there was fear still in her -eyes. She pressed her clasped hands to her breast. - -“Then where is he now?” she asked in a tense whisper. - -“That is what I want to know—I have been seeking both you and him. -When did you meet last?” - -“Five days ago. After saving me he rushed straight away to seek for -Papa. I came to believe that it was all a dream. For I have not seen -him since. Oh, he must have been hurt—he may have been killed.” And -burying her face in her hands she burst into tears. - -Buell Hampton laid a kindly hand on her shoulder. “Come, my dear, we -can do no good by giving way to weeping. I have been through many of the -refuge camps, and I shall go right on searching now. You see there -are thousands of people in these Presidio grounds. He may be within a -stone’s throw of us here at this very moment.” - -“Oh, let me help you.” With a hand she dashed away her tears, and -stood before him now, calm and resolute. “I will come with you right -now. I need no hat or anything.” - -“But your father?” - -“He is all right He is resting quite peacefully. Just spare one -moment, please. Come in and shake hands. He will be so happy to see -you.” - -She led the way to the tent door and parted the awning. Buell Hampton -entered and warmly greeted General Holden. But he told him he could not -linger, for Roderick must be found. - -During the remaining hours of daylight the Major and Gail searched along -row after row of tents. But Roderick remained undiscovered—no one had -ever heard his name or could remember having seen anyone answering to -the description given. Reluctantly Buell Hampton quitted the quest and -led Gail back to her own place of refuge. - -“I am sleeping at Berkeley,” he explained. “It is best that we -should both have our night’s rest. But I shall be back here for you -soon after daybreak, and if you can engage someone to watch by your -father we shall search together all day long. Will that suit, you, -Gail?” - -“Oh, you are so kind taking me,” she replied, resting her hands on -his shoulders, tears of gratitude in the eyes that looked up into his. -“It would break my heart not to be with you.” - -“I would not rob you of love’s sweet duty,” he replied as he -stooped and gently kissed her on the brow. - -Another day went by, but still their efforts were unrewarded. On the -following morning they started for the Seal House, to search the many -improvised hospitals which they had learned were located there. The -first place they entered was an immense tent with two or three hundred -cots ranged in crowded rows. - -As Buell Hampton and Gail walked down the long central aisle, each took -one side to scan the physiognomies of the poor sufferers, some moaning -in delirium, others with quiet pale faces that lighted up to return the -smile of sympathy and encouragement Presently, the Major who was walking -a few feet in advance heard an exclamation of joy, and turning quickly -saw Gail Holden kneeling at the side of a cot There was a bewildered -look on the face of the patient—a lean drawn face, pallid beneath -the tan, the chin stubbled with a beard of a few days’ growth, the -forehead swathed in bandages, one cheek scored with a healing scar. Gail -had taken one of his hands in both her own. He looked from Gail to Major -Hampton and then from the Major back to Gail. - -“Is this a vision?” he asked feebly, as if doubting his senses. - -“Roderick, my dear fellow, is it really you?” exclaimed the Major, -as he bent down over him. “For days we have been hunting for you. -And now we’ve found your hotel”—he glanced around with a little -smile—“we don’t propose to lose sight of you again.” - -Loosening his hand from Gail’s and taking both of hers in his own -and smiling feebly, Roderick said: “Really, Gail, I hardly know yet -whether you are actually here or I am dreaming. You looked pretty white -that day I carried you from the hotel.” - -“There is no dream about me, Roderick,” replied Gail brightly. “We -are going to take care of you, Major Hampton and myself, just as you so -kindly looked after poor little me.” - -At this moment a nurse approached: “So your friends have found you, -Mr. Warfield?” she said with a cheerful smile. - -“Yes,” replied Roderick, “the very best friends I have in all the -world.” As he spoke Gail felt the gentle pressure of his hand. - -“Is this your ward?” inquired the Major of the nurse. - -“Yes, I have had charge of it ever since this makeshift hospital was -put up.” - -“Well, how is the patient, our friend Mr. Warfield?” - -“He had received a pretty ugly cut—a falling piece of wood or -something of that sort—on the top and side of his head—a sort of -glancing bruise. But he is getting on very well now. We have his fever -under control. For a number of days he was very flighty and talked a -great deal about Major Hampton.” - -“I am honored,” said the Major, bowing. - -“Oh, you are Major Hampton?” - -“Yes,” said Gail, “Major Buell Hampton is Mr. Warfield’s -best friend—that is, one of the best.” And she looked quickly at -Roderick. - -“How fortunate that you have come when he is convalescing. But tell -me,” asked the nurse, “who is Gail? In his delirium he talked a -great deal about her.” - -Roderick’s face flushed, and Gail with rising color immediately -changed the subject by asking: “How soon would it be safe to have the -patient removed?” - -“Oh, perhaps tomorrow or the next day. The doctor says he is now quite -out of danger—the fever is practically gone.” - -At Roderick’s request he was propped up on his little white iron -hospital cot, chairs were brought, and until far on in the afternoon -Gail and the Major sat on either side, conversing in quiet, subdued -tones, relating incidents in the terrible disaster, planning for their -early return to Wyoming just as soon as Gail’s father and Roderick -himself could stand the journey. - -A couple of days later Buell Hampton and Gail arrived at the hospital in -an automobile, and carried Roderick away to a yacht anchored in the -bay that had been placed at their disposal. Here Roderick found General -Holden already installed in a comfortable deck chair, and he was -introduced by Gail to her Uncle Edward, a hale old gentleman bearing a -striking resemblance to his brother. The General looked fit even if he -did carry his right arm in a sling, Roderick although weak from loss of -blood was able to walk, and both could well congratulate each other on -their providential escape. - -“We are not going to talk about these awful times,” said the General -as he gave Roderick his left hand and returned the cordial pressure. -“But I have to thank you for saving our dear Gail. We all fully -realize that without your brave and timely help we would not have her -with us today.” - -“Nonsense,” protested Roderick. “Somebody else would have done -what I did. I was just happy and lucky in having the privilege.” - -“God bless you!” murmured the father, again pressing the hand which -he had not yet relinquished. - -“And so say I,” exclaimed the uncle. “We could not do without our -little Gail.” And he patted her cheek affectionately. - -There followed a week of blissful rest and happy companionship, at the -end of which it would have been a hollow mockery to pretend in the case -of either invalid that any more nursing or lolling in long chairs was -required. Railroad accommodations were secured for the morrow. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIX—REUNIONS - -TEN days before the departure from San Francisco telegrams had been sent -in all directions giving forth the glad tidings that General Holden and -Gail, Roderick and Buell Hampton, were safe and would soon be on their -homeward way to Wyoming. Among those thus notified had been the Shields -family at Los Angeles and Allen Miller at Keokuk. But it was a great -surprise to find Whitley Adams waiting the arrival of the morning train -at Rawlins with his big Sixty Horse Power automobile, and bearing the -news that Mrs. Shields, Barbara and Dorothy had returned, while also -Uncle Allen and Aunt Lois had come to Encampment so that appropriate -welcome might be given to those who had recently come through such -terrible and harrowing experiences. Jim Rankin and Tom Sun were also on -the platform to exchange hand-grips with Roderick and the Major. - -After the first glad salutations Whitley pointed to his car, and -announced that he was going to drive the party over to Encampment. - -“Sorry to be starting in opposition to the regular stage,” he said -with a sly little wink in Roderick’s direction. “But you see Mr. -Rankin’s horses are hardly good enough for the occasion.” - -Jim drew himself up and pointed to his old Concord stage coach standing -by, all ready for the road. - -“The dangnationest finest pair uv roan leaders and span uv blacks at -the wheel that ever had lines over ‘em in this part of the country,” -he declared sturdily. “Just wait a bit, young man. ‘Fore we’re -many miles on the road I make free to prognosticate you’ll be under -the bed-springs uv that new fangled wagon uv yours and my hosses will -be whizzing past you like a streak uv greased lightnin’. How would a -little bet uv ten or twenty dollars suit you?” - -“Oh, bankers never gamble,” replied Whitley with undisturbed -gravity. “Well, you’ll follow with the luggage, Mr. Rankin, and no -doubt we’ll have the pleasure of seeing you again sometime tomorrow. -Come away, Miss Holden. Luncheon is to be waiting at my hotel in -Encampment in a couple of hours.” - -“Blame his skin,” muttered Jim when the big automobile had whirled -away. But Tom Sun was convulsed with laughter. - -“He got your dander fairly riz, Jim,” he chuckled. - -Jim’s visage expanded into a broad grin. - -“Guess that’s just what he was arter. But ain’t he the most sassy -cock-a-whoop little cuss anyhow?” - -“Shall I help you with the luggage?” laughed Tom Sun. - -“Oh, you just quit the foolin’ game, Tom. Don’t come nachural from -you. Besides I might be gettin’ a heap peevish and kind o’ awkward -with my artillery. Suppose we lubricate?” - -So the old cronies crossed over to the Wren saloon, where a brace of -cocktails soon restored Jim’s ruffled dignity. - -Meanwhile the automobile was speeding along. - -Roderick was on the driver’s seat beside Whitley, and absorbing the -news. - -“Oh, I just insisted on your Uncle Allen coming along,” Whitley was -telling him. “And Aunt Lois, too. My old folks will arrive at the end -of the week. Meantime Aunt Lois is helping me with my trousseau.” - -“Your trousseau!” - -“Yes—socks and things. You see it’s all fixed up between me and -dear Dorothy. Oh, she’s the best girl ever—you’ll remember I said -that from the first, Rod, my boy.” His face became grave, and his -voice took a humble tone. “Of course I know I can never, fill the -place of Grant Jones, and I told her that. But I’ll do my best to make -her happy, and I think she cares enough for me to let me try.” - -Roderick pressed the hand next him resting on the steering wheel. - -“I’m sure you’ll be very happy, both of you,” he said; “and I -congratulate you, Whitley, old fellow, from the bottom of my heart.” - -Whitley looked round and was his gay, light-hearted self once again. - -“Thanks, old chap. Well, Barbara and Ben Bragdon are also ready. -We’re only waiting for you and Gail.” - -Roderick’s face reddened. - -“You’re mighty kind but rather premature, I’m afraid.” - -“Oh, fudge and nonsense! We’re all agreed the thing’s settled, or -as good as settled. Great guns anyone with half an eye could have told -it, to see you handing her out of the train a little while ago.” - -“Really, Whitley.” - -“There now, just forget all that. So when talking matters over with -Bragdon and our dear twins I suggested that we might as well ring the -wedding bells for six as for two at a time—may come cheaper with the -Reverend Grannon, you know, if we hand it to him wholesale.” - -Roderick no longer attempted to protest, and Whitley rambled on: “But, -say, old fellow, your Uncle Allen has one on you. He declares that -Gail Holden is just the very girl he intended for you right from the -beginning—the young lady about whom you kicked when you had that row -in the banker’s room a year and a half ago—Great Scott, how time -does fly!” - -“Impossible,” exclaimed Roderick in profound amazement - -“The very same,” replied Whitley. “The little tot of a girl with -whom you had that desperate love affair down the river years and years -ago—oh, quite a pretty story; your uncle told it to me with no end of -charming details. And now he is mighty proud, I can tell you, over his -own foresight and sagacity in picking just the right girl for you at the -very start.” - -“He said that, did he?” queried Roderick with a grim smile. - -“Yes, and that if you had followed his advice you could have had her -then, without running away from home and facing all sorts of hardships -and dangers.” - -“No, sir,” exclaimed Roderick firmly. “Gail Holden is not that -sort of girl. Uncle Allen forgets that she had to be won—or rather has -to be won,” he added, correcting himself when he caught the smile on -Whitley’s countenance. - -“Well, you won’t forget,” laughed Whitley, “that I stood out -of the contest and left the way clear for you. Lucky, though, that the -College Widow took the bit between her teeth and bolted, eh, old man?” - -“Hush!” whispered Roderick, throwing a warning glance over his -shoulder. - -“What are you two boys talking about?” asked Gail, with a bright -smile from her seat at the back of the tonneau. - -“Old college days,” laughed Whitley, as he changed the clutch for a -stiff up-grade. - -Arriving at Encampment, they found Allen Miller walking nervously up and -down the platform in front of the hotel. The red blood in Roderick’s -veins surged like fierce hammer strokes, with eagerness to once more -grasp the hand of his old guardian. - -He hastily excused himself, jumped from the auto and grasped the -extended hand of his old guardian. He was soon led away by his uncle -Allen, to the parlors of the hotel, to meet his Aunt Lois. - -“Oh, I am so glad you brought Roderick here, Allen; for I just knew -that I would get all fussed up and cry. - -“There, there, Aunt Lois,” said Roderick cheerily, after embracing -her warmly, “we are not going to be separated any more,—or, if we -are, it will not be for long at any one time. I know the way back to old -Keokuk,” said Roderick, laughing and hugging his dear aunt Lois -again, “and you and Uncle Allen now know the road out to the Wyoming -hills.” - -“I declare, Lois,” said Uncle Allen, “you and Roderick act like a -couple of school children.” He laughed rather loudly as he said this, -to hide his own agitation; but it was noticed that his eyes were filled -with tears, which he hastily brushed away. - -It was a happy luncheon party at the Bonhomme Hotel, Whitley playing -the host to perfection, his guests, besides the new arrivals, being the -whole Shields family, Banker Allen Miller and his wife, and the young -state senator, Ben Bragdon. And early in the proceedings Gail to her -surprise learned that Roderick was no other than her little boy lover -on the river steamer Diamond Joe some fifteen years ago, and blushed -in sweet confusion when Allen Miller in radiant good humor joked about -coming events casting their shadows before. Roderick went to her rescue -and promptly switched the topic of conversation. - -Toward the close of the meal Buell Hampton was expounding to the banker -a great irrigation scheme he had in view—to bring into Encampment -Valley the waters of French Creek and Bear Creek, the former by a tunnel -through the Hunter Range, the latter by a siphon under the Great Platte -River, whereby a hundred thousand acres of rich valley lands, now -wilderness because waterless, could be brought into profitable -agricultural bearing. - -“So you are going to drive us cattle men off the face of the -country,” laughed Mr. Shields. - -“Better happy homes than roaming herds,” replied Buell Hampton. -“What nobler work could we take in hand?” he asked. “The smelter -and the mine are running themselves now. Let us then see what we can -do to make the desert blossom like the rose. Mr. Miller, Mr. Shields, -myself—we can all help with capital. Mr. Bragdon, there is a life’s -work for you in this enterprise.” - -“Lawyers always come in for fat pickings,” laughed Whitley Adams. - -“General Holden,” continued the Major, “I am sure will want to -join in too. Then Roderick—” - -He paused and glanced in his young friend’s direction. - -“Oh, I’m prepared to turn in all the gold from my mine,” exclaimed -Roderick enthusiastically. - -Indeed Buell Hampton had kindled the spirit of enthusiasm all round. The -project was as good as launched—the dream of a generation of pioneers -within sight of realization. - -When coffee was being served on the veranda, the Major drew Roderick -aside. They were seated alone at a little table. - -“Roderick, my boy,” Buell Hampton began, “I want to see you -tonight at my home—all alone. Come about eight o’clock. I have -several matters of importance to communicate. During the afternoon -I’ll be busy—I have some banking business to transact, besides I -wish an hour or two with your uncle before my talk with you tonight. I -am sorry to leave such a happy gathering, but am sure”—this with -a gentle glance in Gail’s direction—“that the time will not hang -heavily on your hands. Until eight o’clock then,” and with a tap on -Roderick’s shoulder the Major crossed over and spoke a few words to -Allen Miller, the two taking their departure a few moments later. - -Roderick was mystified—less by Buell Hampton’s actual words than by -his grave look and manner. - -Meanwhile Gail had risen and entered the drawing room that opened by -French windows off the veranda, and the sound of her voice at the piano -broke him from his momentary reverie. He rose and joined her. - - - - -CHAPTER XL—BUELL HAMPTON’S GOOD-BY - -RODERICK was prompt to the minute in keeping his appointment. He found -the Major seated before a bright log-fire, and his first glance around -the old familiar room showed the progress of some unusual preparations. -The open lid of a traveling trunk revealed clothing and books already -packed; the violin in its case rested on the centre table. - -Buell Hampton interpreted his visitor’s look of wonderment. - -“Yes, Roderick,” he said with a smile that was both tender and -serious, “I am going away. But let us take things in their order. Sit -down here, and let us smoke our pipes together in the old way—perhaps -it may be for the last time in each other’s company.” - -“Oh, don’t say that, my dear Major,” protested Roderick, in -accents of real concern. - -But Buell Hampton motioned him to his seat, and passed over the humidor. -For a minute or two they smoked in silence. At last the Major spoke. - -“Roderick, I have news that will greatly surprise you. I had a -telegram from Boney Earnest just before we left San Francisco. I said -nothing to you, for I did not wish with needless haste to disturb your -happiness.” - -“Not about Gail?” asked Roderick, his face paling. - -“No, no. This has nothing to do with Gail—at least it only affects -her indirectly. You spoke today at lunch time about turning in the -profits of your gold mine into the Encampment Valley irrigation scheme. -I want to put you right on this mining matter first. Boney Earnest’s -telegram showed that neither you nor I have a gold mine any longer. -Hidden Valley has disappeared. Our claims are under five hundred feet of -water.” - -“How could this have happened?” - -“You have read in the newspapers that the cosmic disturbances of the -San Francisco earthquake extended entirely across the continent. Indeed -the shocks were felt distinctly in New York, Philadelphia, Boston, and -other Atlantic points. Well, a number of prospectors have been up among -the mountains getting ready to stake around our claims, and they report -that three miles above Spirit Falls a vast new lake has been formed, -completely filling the canyon.” - -“The shake brought down the grotto cavern, I suppose.” - -“And sealed it, damming back the river. That is undoubtedly what has -happened. So Roderick, my dear fellow, you have to forget that gold. But -of course you know that all I have is yours to share.” - -“No, no, Major,” exclaimed Roderick, laying a hand on his friend’s -shoulder. “Besides your all too generous gift at Denver, I have my -salary from the smelter company, and I’m going to chip in to the limit -of my power for the advancement of that glorious irrigation scheme of -yours. I did without the mine before. Thank God I can do without it now. -My dear father’s letter served its purpose—it brought me to Wyoming, -and although I have no right to say so just yet I do believe that it has -won for me Gail Holden’s love.” - -“I am sure of it,” remarked Buell Hampton quietly. “She has loved -you for a long time—you were all in all to her before you followed -to San Francisco, as the poor girl’s anguish showed during those days -when we both thought that you had perished.” - -“Then, Major,” cried Roderick, the light of great joy illuminating -his countenance, “if I have won Gail Holden’s love I have won -greater treasure than the treasure of Hidden Valley—greater treasure -than all the gold claims in the world.” - -“Spoken like a man,” replied Buell Hampton as he gripped -Roderick’s hand. The latter continued, his face all aglow: -“Everything has come out right When my Unde Allen refused to help me -in my New York ventures he really saved me from cruel and accursed Wall -Street where more hearts have been broken and lives of good promise -wrecked than on all the battlefields of the world. When he handed me my -father’s letter, he took me out of that selfish inferno and sent me -here into the sweet pure air of the western mountains, among men like -you, the Reverend Stephen Grannon, Ben Bragdon, Boney Earnest, and good -old Jim Rankin too, besides our dear dead comrade Grant Jones. Here I -have the life worth living, which is the life compounded of work and -love. Love without work is cloying, work without love is soul-deadening, -but love and work combined can make of earth a heaven.” - -“And now you speak like a philosopher,” said Buell Hampton -approvingly. - -“Which shows that I have been sitting at your feet. Major, for a year -past not altogether in vain,” laughed Roderick. “From every point of -view I owe you debts that can never be repaid.” - -“Then let me improve this occasion by just one thought, Roderick. -It is in individual unselfishness that lies the future happiness of -mankind. The age of competition has passed, the age of combination for -profit is passing, the age of emulation in unselfishness is about to -dawn. The elimination of selfishness will lead to the elimination of -poverty; then indeed will the regeneration of our social system be -begun. Think that thought, Roderick, my dear fellow, when I am gone.” - -It was ever thus that Buell Hampton sought to sow the tiny grain of -mustard seed in fertile soil. - -“But why should you go away, Major?” asked Roderick protestingly. - -“Because duty calls me—my work for humanity demands. But we shall -come to that presently. For the moment I want to recall one of our -conversations in this room—in the early days of our friendship. Do you -remember when I gave it as my opinion that it would be conducive to the -happiness of mankind if there was no abnormal individual wealth in the -world?” - -“That a quarter of a million dollars was ample for the richest man in -the world—I remember every word, Major.” - -“Well, Roderick, today I have transferred to your credit in your Unde -Allen’s bank precisely this sum.” - -“Major, Major, I could never accept such a gift.” - -“Just hear me patiently, please. The sum is quite rightfully yours. It -is really only a small fraction of what your father’s claim might have -produced for you had I taken you earlier into my full confidence and so -helped you to the location of the rich sandbar with its nuggets of gold. -Moreover, you know me well enough to understand that I count wealth as -only a trust in my hands—a trust for the good of humanity. And I feel -that, in equipping such a man as yourself, a man whom I have tested -out and tried in a dozen different ways without your knowing it—in -equipping you with a sufficient competency I really help to discharge -my trust, for I invest you with the power to do unmeasured good to all -around you. I need not expatiate on such a theme; you have heard my -views many times. In sharing my wealth with you, Roderick, I simply -bring you in as an efficient helper for the uplift of humanity. It -therefore becomes your duty to accept the trust I hand over to you, -cheerfully and wishing you Godspeed with every good work to which you -set your hand.” - -“Then, Major, I can but accept the responsibility. I need not tell you -that I shall always try to prove myself worthy of such a trust.” - -“I have yet another burden to place on your shoulders. The balance of -the wealth at my present disposal I have also handed over to you—as my -personal trustee. At this moment I do not know when and in what amount -I shall require money for the task I am about to undertake. Later on -you will hear from me. Meanwhile Allen Miller knows that my initial -investment will be equal to his own in the valley irrigation scheme. -You, Roderick, as my trustee may contribute further sums at your -absolute discretion; if the work requires help at any stage, use no -stinting hand irrespective of financial returns for me, because with -me the thing that counts mainly is the happiness and prosperity of this -town, its people, and the surrounding valley lands.” - -“But, Major, can’t you remain with us and do these things -yourself?” - -“No; the call is preemptory. And if perchance you should never hear -from me again, Roderick, continue, I beg of you, to use my money for the -good of humanity. Count it as your own, use it as your own. I lay down -no hard and fast rules to guide you. Give to the poor—give to those in -distress—pay off the usurer’s mortgage and stop excessive interest -that makes slaves of the poor family struggling to own a little thatched -cottage. Give wherever your heart is touched—give because it is -God’s way and God is prompting you by touching your heart.” - -Roderick listened in silence, deeply moved. He saw that Buell -Hampton’s mind was made up—that no pleading or remonstrance could -alter the decision at which he had arrived. The Major had now risen from -his chair; there was a softness in the rich full tones of his voice, a -look of half pain in his eyes, as he went on: “But remember, although -we may be parted, our friendship abides—its influences endure. -Friendship, my dear Roderick, is elemental—without commencement and -without end—a discovery. From the beginning of furthest antiquity, the -pathway of the centuries have been lined with tablet-stones pronouncing -its virtues. Friendship is the same yesterday, today, tomorrow and -forever. It is an attraction of personalities and its power is unseen -and as subtle as the lode-stone. It is the motive that impels great -deeds of bravery in behalf of humanity. It speaks to the hearts of those -who can hear its accents of truth and wisdom, and contributes to the -highest ideals of honor, to the development of the sublimest qualities -of the soul. It is the genius of greatness; the handmaiden of humanity. -I have sometimes thought that if we could place in our own souls a harp -so delicately attuned that as every gale of passion, of hope, of sorrow, -of love and of joy swept gently over the chords, then we would hear -in the low plaintive whisperings the melody of friendship’s -sweetest note—that quivers and weeps and laughs on the shore line of -immortality.” - -“Your friendship, Major,” said Roderick fervently, “will always -be one of the most deeply cherished things in my life. But I cannot -reconcile myself to the thought that we should part.” - -Buell Hampton laid a hand upon the young man’s shoulder. - -“Duty calls—the two little words are enough, although it grieves me -sore to think that most likely we shall never meet again. Your work is -here—your usefulness lies here. But as for me, my mission in the hills -is finished. I am going to a far away country—not a new one, because -there are many in squalor and poverty where duty leads me. There I will -begin again my labors for the lowly and the poor—for those who are -carrying an unjust portion of life’s burdens. There is no lasting -pleasure in living, my dear Roderick, unless we help hasten the age of -humanity’s betterment. Good-by,” concluded the Major, smiling into -Roderick’s eyes and pressing his hand warmly—“good-by.” - -Almost dazed by the suddenness of the parting Roderick Warfield found -himself out in the darkness of the night He was stunned by the thought -that he had gripped his dear friend’s hand perhaps for the last -time—that there had gone out of his life the one man whom above all -others he honored and loved. - -Thus passed Buell Hampton from among the people of the hills. None of -his intimates in or around Encampment ever saw him again. - - - - -CHAPTER XLI.—-UNDER THE BIG PINE - -ON the following afternoon Roderick saddled his pony Badger and rode -over to the Conchshell ranch. The Holdens received the news of Buell -Hampton’s mysterious departure with deep regret; the Major had become -very dear to their hearts, how dear they only fully realized now that he -was gone. - -It was toward evening when Gail proposed that they go riding in the -woods. The invitation delighted Roderick, and Fleetfoot and Badger were -speedily got ready. - -“Let us follow the old timber road to the south,” Roderick -suggested. “I want to show you, only a few miles from here, a -beautiful lake.” - -“I know of no such lake,” she replied. - -“Yet it is less than five miles away, and we shall christen it Spirit -Lake, if you like the name, for it lies above Spirit Falls.” - -“You are dreaming. There is no such lake.” - -“I will show it to you. Come along.” - -Upward and onward he led her over the range. And when they gained the -summit, there at their feet lay the great new lake about which Buell -Hampton had told him, fully seven miles long and two miles wide, and not -less than six or seven hundred feet deep as Roderick knew, for he had -gathered nuggets of gold on the floor of the little canyon now submerged -beneath the placid blue waters. - -Gail gazed in silent admiration. At last she exclaimed: “Spirit Lake! -It is well named. It is more like a dream than reality.” - -He helped her from the saddle. They tethered their mounts in western -fashion by throwing the reins over the horses’ heads. They were -standing under the branches of a big pine, and again they gazed over -the waters. At the lower end of the lake was a most wonderful waterfall, -dashing sheer down some four hundred feet into Spirit River. - -For several minutes they continued to gaze in enraptured silence on -the scene of tranquil beauty. Toward the east the forest was darkly -purple—to the west, across the waters, the hills were silhouetted in -splendid grandeur against a magnificent sunset. The whole range seemed -clothed in a robe of finest tapestry. The sun was rapidly approaching -the rim of the western horizon. - -The afterglow of the red sunset marked paths of rippling gold on the -waters. Vague violet shadows of dusk were merging over all. Nature was -singing the lyric of its soul into things—crooning lake and mountains -and forest-clad slopes to slumber. - -It was Gail who at last broke the spell. - -“Oh, how beautiful, how supremely beautiful,” she murmured. - -“Well, it is the earthquake that has wrought all this wonderful -change,” explained Roderick’. “And now, dear Gail, I have a story -to tell you.” - -And, seating her on the turf by his side, under the big pine, where -the waters lapped at their very feet, he proceeded to relate the whole -romantic story of his father’s lost find—his own lost claim. By the -time the narrative was ended the sun had set behind the hills. Roderick -rose, and giving his hands, helped Gail to her feet. - -“So all this wonderful treasure of Hidden Valley lies beneath these -waters,” she exclaimed. - -“Yes, but for me the real treasure is here by my side.” - -As he spoke these words his arm stole around her waist. She did not -appear to notice his half timid embrace as together they stood viewing -the panorama of a dying day. Presently he drew her closer. - -“The day and the night blend,” he whispered softly as if fearful -of disturbing the picture. “Shall not our lives, sweetheart,” asked -Roderick with vibrant voice, “likewise blend forever and forever?” - -Gail half turning lifted her slender hands to Roderick’s cheeks and he -quickly clasped her tightly in his strong arms and kissed her madly on -lips, eyes and silken hair. - -“Roderick, my lover—my king,” said Gail through pearly tears of -joy. - -“My little Gail,” whispered Roderick, exultantly, “my -sweetheart—my queen.” - -Slowly the light of day vanished. The sounds of night began walking -abroad in the world. Dusk wrapped these lovers in its mantle. The day -slept and night brooded over forest, lake and hills. - -In a little while they lifted the bridle reins of their mounts and -turning walked arm in arm down the old timber road toward Conchshell -ranch. - -They halted in the darkness and Roderick said: “Do you mind, dear, if -I smoke?” - -“Certainly not,” was her cheery reply. - -He bit the cigar and struck a match. The fight reflected on Gail’s -radiant face. “Wonderful,” he ejaculated as he tossed the match -away, laughing softly. He had quite forgotten to light his cigar. - -“Why, what did you see, Roderick, you silly fellow, that is so -wonderful?” - -“I saw,” said Roderick, “the dearest little woman in the wide, -wide world—my mountain song girl—who is going to be kissed with all -the pent-up passion of a ‘grizzly’ in just one-half second.” - - - - -AFTERWORD - -Into the warp and woof of my story of the West, “The Treasure of -Hidden Valley,” there have been woven a few incidents of the great -calamity that some years ago befell the city of San Francisco. Perhaps -some of my readers will care to peruse a more detailed description of -that tragic happening. W. G. E. - -IT was on April 18, 1906, that San Francisco was shaken by a terrible -earthquake which in its final effects resulted in the city being -cremated into cinders and gray ashes. - -The trembling, gyrating, shaking and swaying vibrations, the swiftly -following outbursts of fire, the cries of those pinned beneath fallen -débris and of the thousands who were seeking to escape by fleeing into -the parks and toward the open country, produced the wildest pandemonium. - -While there was no wind, yet a hundred fires originating at different -points quickly grew into sheets of towering flame and spread to adjacent -buildings, burning with demoniacal fierceness as if possessed by some -unseen mysterious power, pouring forth red hot smoke until the prostrate -city was melted into ruin by the intense heat of a veritable hell. - -The night of April 17 and 18 had almost ended in San Francisco. It had -been like many another night in that cosmopolitan city. Pleasure-seekers -were legion,—negligent, care-free, wrapped in the outward show of -things—part of it good—part of it not so good—some of it downright -wicked as in Ancient Pompeii. Yet the hour was late—or early, -whichever you will—even for San Francisco. The clock in the city hall -had resounded forth five strokes. Peaceful folk were in the realm of -dreams that precede awakening. The roistering hundreds of a drunken -night had gathered in places of vice and were sleeping away the liquor -fumes. The streets were almost deserted. - -The great printing presses that had been reverberating with the thunders -of a Jove, gathering and recording the news from the four quarters of -the earth, had paused and all was still. Here and there morning papers -were on the streets and the preliminary work was in progress of sending -them forth to the front doorsteps of the homes of rich and poor, from -one end of the city to the other. Then, without warning, just eighteen -minutes after the city clock had tolled its five strokes, one of the -greatest news items and tragedies of the world’s history was enacted. -An historical milestone of the centuries was on that eventful morning -chiseled on the shore line of the Pacific Coast. - -Suddenly from the womb of sleeping silence, from far below the earth’s -crust, just as the dawn of a new day began purpling the eastern sky, -there came forth a rumbling and muttering of unearthly noises like the -collapsing of palaces of glass or the clanking of giant chains. It came -from beneath the entire city and was borne upward and abroad on the -startled wings of a mysterious fear. It was a shrieking, grinding -confusion of subterranean thunder, like the booming of heavy artillery -in battle. It was deafening in its dreadfulness, and drove terror to -the heart of the hardiest. It sounded to the affrighted people as if two -mighty armies of lusty giants of the underworld were grappling in -mortal combat and in their ferocious anger were unwittingly breaking the -earth’s fragile shell into yawning cracks and criss-cross fissures. -Mount Tamalpais was fluttering like the wings of a snared pigeon. - -In the space of seconds, the whole populace awoke, excepting those who -had answered the last call; for some there were, pinned under falling -walls, who were overtaken by swift death in the very act of awakening. - -The uncounted number that were crushed to death and had life’s door -closed to them forever, no one will ever know. In the forty-eight -seconds that followed the beginning of the deep guttural bellowing of -hideous noises from somewhere below the earth’s surface, buildings -rocked and heaved and twisted, while heavy objects of household -furniture were tumbled across rooms from one corner to the other and the -occupants helplessly tossed from their beds. - -Such an awakening, such lamentations, such cursing, such prayers, and -then into the debris-littered streets the multitude began pouring forth, -half-clothed, wild and panic-stricken. - -The stunning shock, like a succession of startled heart-beats, lasted -twelve seconds less than one minute, but those who experienced the -ordeal say it seemed an eternity—forty-eight seconds—terrible -seconds—of sickening, swaying suspense. A heaving earth, jerking, -pulsing to and fro in mad frenzy, while countless buildings were swaying -and keeping time to a wild hissing noise like the noise of boiling, -blubbering fat in a rendering caldron. - -It was the dawn of a new day abounding in hideous noises—detonations -of falling masonry, the crash of crumbling, crushing walls, the shrieks -of maimed and helpless victims—and all the people stupefied with a -terrible fear, women weeping in hysterical fright and everyone expectant -of they knew not what, unable to think coherently or reason, yet their -voices filling the stricken city with cries and moans of heart-rending -terror and lamentation. And all the while there came up from somewhere -an unearthly threatening roar that awed the multitude into unnatural -submissive bewilderment. - -At the end of eight and forty seconds the frantically tossed earth -quieted—became normal and was still. Some of the buildings righted and -were quiescent, and a moment of silence followed, except for the crowing -of cocks, the whinnying of frightened horses and the whining of cowering -dogs. This condition, however, was only of momentary duration. - -Almost immediately the streets became a wild scene of turmoil as the -half-clothed, half-crazed men, women and children went rushing up and -down in every direction, they knew not why nor where. Doors were broken -open to allow egress, shutters were slammed, windows were hastily -raised, and like a myriad of ants the rest of the people who until now -had been penned up, struggled forth into open ways—thinly clad, some -almost naked, trembling, gazing about awe-stricken, looking each at his -fellow, indifferent to the destruction going on about them, each filled -with prayerful thankfulness for life. Then, like a rehearsed orchestra -of many voices, there arose, seemingly in unison, a chorus of -heart-piercing wails and calls from thousands of throats for loved -ernes—loved ones lost who could not answer. - -In the pale light of that April dawn, this vast army of survivors, while -chilled with outward cold, shivered also with an unspeakable inward -dread. - -Along the streets of proud San Francisco in every direction were huge -masses of bricks, cornices, fallen ragged chimneys and walls, tumbled -together in complex dykes of débris like the winrows of a hay field -and interspersed with the dead and dying bodies of man and horse alike, -vanquished in life’s uneven contest. - -A little later in the vicinity of the ten-million-dollar courthouse, -crowds of frightened people gathered, attracted perhaps by the terrific -thundering of the mammoth stone slabs and concrete sides and columns of -the structure, as, in their loosened condition from the steel skeleton, -they kept crashing down upon the street in riotous disorder. - -Every block in the city held its tragedy, its silent evidence of a -mighty internal upheaving of Goliath strength. There were hundreds -of dead, while others lay maimed in tortured suffering, buried under -wreckage, pinned down by the giant hands of the Angel of Destruction. -The unfortunates still living were fastened like insects caught in -traps, helpless, but hoping for relief, awaiting the unwritten chapter -that was yet to come. - -The great earthquake of San Francisco had spent its force—its rude -results lay in careless disheveled evidence on every hand—and now the -nerve-strained, half-crazed and bewildered people caught the sound of -fire bells clanging hurriedly into nearer distances. - -The fire hose and the corps of hook and ladder men came rushing with -all speed, drawn by frenzied horses, hastily turning street corners and -dashing around fallen walls while the automatic fire bells were cutting -the air in metallic, staccato beats of wildest alarm. Soon the throbbing -of the fire engines began and false hope sprung rife in the hearts of -the people. Those running south on Market Street paused in bewilderment, -not knowing which way to go, for fire calls and flames were evident, -not in one location nor two, but in hundreds at widely separated places -throughout the erstwhile magnificent metropolis of the Occident. - -Black columns of smoke began rising from ominous red furnace flames -beneath, and curled lazily into the balm of the upper air, indifferent -to the wails of the helpless unfortunates maimed and pinned beneath the -wrecked buildings of a demolished and burning city. - -The murky smoke like mourning crape hung mutely above, while beneath its -canopy life’s sacrificial offering lay prostrate, the dying and -the dead. The consuming flames spread quickly, and the horror of the -hopeless condition of the injured was soon apparent, while the sobs -and cries of the doomed victims became maddening because of the very -impotency to succor them. - -The suddenness of it all did not give time for the rescuers. Then too, -the smoke-blinded and half-choked people in the crowded, congested -streets were stampeding toward the open country—to Golden Gate Park -and the Presidio. Many of the trapped victims, well and strong, might -have escaped but could not exert normal power to shake off the fetters -that held them down under fallen wreckage too heavy for their hampered -strength. It was a veritable bedlam, some cursing, some praying, most -all crying loudly as if in crazed pain for assistance. - -The first paroxysm passed, the poor unfortunates seemingly became more -patient, believing that relief would surely come. The crackling flames -mounted higher and came alarmingly nearer. Finally, as the conflagration -with a hurried sweep began to envelop these pinioned human beings, they -shrieked in agony like lost souls in terrible anguish at a most horrible -and certain death. Their voices rose with the rising of the flames until -at last the piteous cries were hushed perforce, and only the crackling -sound of burning wood and the forked tongues of raging red fire greeted -the sun, that morning of April 18, as it climbed above the eastern -mountains and looked upon the scene of woeful destruction. - -Is it any wonder that strong men wept? Is it to be marveled at that -those separated from friends and relatives grew bewildered, frantic and -crazed with grief and fear, and that chaos reigned supreme? - -Gradually amid the whirl of emotions there stepped forth men who until -now had been stunned into silence and temporarily bereft of reason. The -first staggering shock passed, they became possessed in a measure with -calmness and courage. They girded their belts afresh and although many -of them began by cursing the heartless, cruel fire and the terribleness -of it all, they quickly and determinedly turned to the stupendous work -of endeavoring to subdue its ravages. - -Then a new terror raised its ghostly head and held the people in a grip -of deepest despair. The earthquake had broken the supplying water mains, -and presently the city was without water and the fire engines and other -fire-fighting apparatus were worthless junk. It was a grievous blow to -momentarily raised hopes and courageous resolution. - -The flames raged on with the fleetness of race horses, eating out the -heart of the city, burning it into cinders, and cremating the flesh and -bone of fallen victims. - -Dynamite was brought into use, gunny sacks and bedding of all sorts were -saturated with water from barrels and tanks. Grappling hooks and human -hands made up the armament of puny defense against the over-powering and -masterful flames of annihilation. - -Against these feeble weapons, the grim demon of fire planned an attack -of certain devastation. It was as if his Satanic Majesty with all his -imps were in their ruthless cunning directing a fiendish work that would -permit no record but death to the unfortunate, no record to the proud -city but gaunt-ribbed skeleton buildings, red hot cinders and blackened -ash heaps. - -Overturned stoves in a thousand houses throughout the residential -districts had early started a multitude of fires and split the -fire-fighters into many divisions, and therefore into less effective -units in their futile efforts even partially to check the mighty -master—the devouring tempest of fire that crackled and sported in its -insatiable greed. - -There was still to follow yet another misfortune, an execrable -crime—that of wicked inhuman incendiarism. At places flames burst -forth kindled by the hands of a coterie of merciless ghouls. These -inhuman devils added to the calamities heaped upon their fellows by -setting fire to unburned dwellings whose owners had fled. There was -neither necessity nor reason for their dastardly acts. With sponges -soaked in kerosene, they did this damnable work—indulging dreams -perhaps of greater loot, greed and avarice in their cruel eyes, blackest -hell in their debauched hearts. - -In the beginning of this losing fight with terrors of the fire king, -seemingly unconquerable, only one ray of hope was discernible—there -was no wind from ocean or bay in San Francisco that April morning. The -clouds that filled the heavens with ominous blackness were only stifling -smoke from the burning buildings below. - -High above the crimson snake-tongued flames the black smoke hung like a -pall, silent and motionless, while fringing it around far away in every -direction was the clear blue sky, serene, unfathomable. - -As the heroic work of fighting the fire demon progressed, it was soon -discovered that the police were insufficient. Crowds of ghouls were -pressing the firemen, while robbery, rapine and murder ran riot. Human -blood that day was easily spilled. For the sake of pelf and plunder, -life was cheap. - -The boldness of this lawless condition brought about its own remedy. -Strong men arose in their might. Under able leadership they quickly -formed a committee of safety. The National Guard was sent to help them. - -General Fred Funston of the U. S. Army telegraphed to the Secretary of -War for authority, and within three hours was hurrying United States -troops into the burning city, and immediately placed it under martial -law. The crowds were quickly driven back by the soldiers, fire lines -were established, government troops, guards and police all bent nobly to -the task of endeavoring to subdue the flames. Buildings were dynamited -to shut off the fire’s progress, insubordinate as well as predatory -ruffians were shot down without mercy, and thus was order brought out of -chaos. But as the hours went by, despite all efforts, the gormandizing -flames consumed acres and acres of buildings. - -Every wandering automobile was pressed into service and loaded with -dynamite. Thus for hour after hour the losing fight with the merciless -flames went on. - -As the fire burnt its way south on Market Street, the isolated centers -crept toward each other with ever widening circles of flame. While there -was no breeze to fan them on, yet the flames seemed possessed of some -invisible means of progression—an unseen spirit of continued expansion -lurked within. The buildings were like so much dry timber, igniting -without direct contact of spark or flame, only from the tremendous heat -that was generated. Sweeping on and on the different conflagrations at -last came together—joined in greater strength, flared up hundreds of -feet high, until it looked as if the entire city was one vast molten -lake of undulating waves of fire. - -The roar of the flames could be heard far beyond the confines of the -city—the immense columns and clouds of black smoke continued to sweep -upward, until high aloft they spread out into the great canopy as if in -shame they fain would hide from angels above the terrible destruction -being wrought in this fiery pit below. - -As the hours went by, the exodus of people continued. The fascination of -it all held the multitudes spell-bound. They for a time were forgetful -of hunger, but moved on, this way and that as the burning districts -compelled them to go. The public parks began to fill with refugees. The -Presidio and the hills overlooking the city were blackened with throngs -of people shivering from cold and beginning to suffer the pangs of -hunger, the rich and the poor touching shoulders, condoling one with -the other in lamentations. This surging mass of famishing humanity were -clothed, or partially clothed, in strange and ridiculous costumes. - -Household goods littered the outlying streets. Most of the wayfarers who -reached the country had little luggage. Many had carried some useless -article nearest at hand, selected in their hurry without thought of its -value or utility. - -One woman held a bird cage under her arm—empty, with the door swinging -open. Another carried a carving knife in one hand and a feather-bedecked -hat of gaudiness in the other. One man was seen dragging an old -leather-bound trunk by a rope—investigation proved the trunk to be -without contents. - -Notwithstanding the people had lost their all, and in most cases were -famishing, yet the great mass were good-natured and tolerant, the strong -helping the weak. The chivalry of the West and its rugged manhood abided -in their midst There was a common brotherhood in the ranks of these -homeless human beings. Distinctions between rich and poor were -obliterated—they were all fellow refugees. - -No street cars were running in the city. Market Street, into which the -greater number of street car railroad tracks converged, was littered -with fallen buildings, useless hose and fire fighting apparatus, twisted -beams, cinders, heaps of hot ashes and charred bodies of the dead. - -It was about eleven o’clock in the morning of the first day of this -terrible devastation that the famous Palace Hotel had finally been -emptied of its last guest. The rooms throughout were bestrewn with -fallen plaster from ceiling and walls, but otherwise, strange to -narrate, the structure had suffered but little damage from the -earthquake while all around were collapsed and fallen buildings. - -At the Mission Street side of the building and on the roof the employees -had fought bravely to save this noted hostelry. But as the noon hour -approached they gave up all hope. Hurrying through the rooms of the -departed guests in an endeavor to save, if possible, abandoned luggage, -they gossiped about the “yellow streak,” as they called it, of a -world-noted singer—a guest of the hotel—who had been frightened -almost to death by the earthquake and developed evidence of rankest -selfishness in his mad efforts to save himself. - -Then in sadder tones they talked of the impending and inevitable -destruction of the magnificent hotel, where most of them had been -employed for years. As the heat from the on-sweeping flames began to be -unbearable, they hurried away one by one until the famous caravansary -was finally deserted by man and in full possession of the ruthless -devouring flames. - -Great crowds stood on Montgomery Street near the site of the Union Trust -Building and watched the burning of the Palace Hotel. Held back by -the soldiers in mournful silence, the mass of people watched the angry -flames leaping from roof and windows. Soon the fire spread to the Grand -Hotel across the street. The flames shot up higher, and then when their -task of destruction was finally finished, gradually sank down until -nothing but roofless, windowless, bare bleak walls, gaunt, blackened -and charred, were left—a grim ghost of the old hotel that boasted of a -million guests during its gorgeous days of usefulness, and around -which twined a thousand memories of the golden days of the Argonauts of -California. - -Half a block away a newspaper building had been blown up by dynamite—a -similar attempt with the Monadnock Building failed of its purpose. - -When night finally fell, those on the north side of Market Street -rejoiced greatly, for it seemed that the fire, at least in the down-town -business district, had burned itself into submission. So said a -well-known milliner for men, as he ate a huge steak at a famous resort -on the ocean shore and indulged heavily in champagne in celebration of -the saving of his premises. He celebrated a day too soon—the following -morning his business house was in ashes. - -To the few who were care-free in the sense that they had not lost -relatives or friends, the panorama of the fire when darkness came -on will never be forgotten because of the wonderful pyrotechnic -display—the magnificent yet appalling splendor and beauty of the -burning city. - -The scene was set as by a wonder-hand of stagecraft. The fire was raging -fiercely in an immense pit—topographically the lowest part of the -city. Around this pit the rising ground, like a Greek amphitheatre, -stretched up toward the Sutro Estate and Ricon Hill on the one side and -toward California Street, Nob and Telegraph Hills on the other. To the -east was Alcatraz like a sentinel in the waters; across the Bay the -cities of Alameda, Oakland and Berkeley. On every vantage point the -people gathered—on the heights of Alcatraz and on the roofs of -buildings in the trans-bay cities. In silence they gazed at the -awe-inspiring drama of destruction that was being enacted before them. - -With the advance of night, the towering flames in this vast sweep -of many miles of a circular fire line presented a scene that defies -description. The general color effect was of a deep blood red, while -the smoke as a background to the picture belched up in rolling black -volumes, with here and there long forks of flashing fire shooting above -the deep crimson glow of the mighty furnace. - -Before the roaring billows of flame the tallest buildings were as tinder -wood in their helplessness. The Call Building, lifting its head high -above its neighbors, was like an ignited match-box set on end. The -living flaming wall behind overtopped it as a giant does a pigmy. - -Nine o’clock! Ten o’clock! Midnight!—and those who watched and -waited and slept not, with nothing but excitement to stay their -hunger, saw in the lurid light that by a flank movement the fire had -unexpectedly crept far up Montgomery Street from the Ferry. The trade -winds were stirring. The fire, in its pulsing undulations, presented the -lure and the sensuous poetry of death. It barred all trespassing on the -one side and burnt its way through on the other. It was seen that the -entire banking district was doomed. Alas, the feeble protests of feeble -men! It was a wild outlaw, untamed and untamable fire, that defied all -human interference. - -And Chinatown—the world-noted Chinatown of San Francisco—what of -that? It too had gone the way of annihilation. They say brutality was -practiced, and it is whispered to this day that those in charge of -dynamiting the Chinatown section of the city were careless and did not -warn the inmates of opium dens—it is said they blew up many buildings -that held within them, or in the grottoes beneath, innumerable inmates. -Whether or not this is true no one can positively say. If true, there -is some excuse. The Chinese dwellings were honey-combed underground with -dark and devious passages, and it was perhaps impossible, for lack of -time and dearth of knowledge how to penetrate these hidden recesses, to -warn the drugged dreamers. - -In this district the fire raged as if possessed by a million devils. -Over the city’s tenderloin on the edge of Chinatown, it swept with a -flame of reckless wrath and purification. Buildings whose very timbers -were steeped in vice and immorality burned into ashes of cleanliness. -The haunts of the lustful, the wine-bibber and the dope-fiend were -consumed in a fashion horrible, terrible, pitiless and final. - -The city was burned into scrap iron of contortioned steel beams, ragged -chimneys half broken and heaps of blackened cinder. As the hours went -by it seemed the fire continually found new fuel to feed upon in its -savagery and madness. The accumulation of days and years of human labor -crumbled into nothingness. Thousands, then hundreds of thousands, then -millions, until the enormous total reached $600,000,000 of wealth that -was melted away in this fiery crucible! - -Egypt, cursed by Moses and weeping for its firstborn, was in no more -pitiable plight than this calamity-visited city of San Francisco shaken -by earthquake shock, then swept by fire. - -Four and one-half miles one way the fire travelled, then four and -one-half miles the other it burned its devastating way. Behind it in -its path of ruin were only cracked granite walls, twisted steel girders, -crumbling and broken cornices; before it, a scattering field of a few -untouched buildings yet to conquer. - -A Nero with an evil eye on a city’s undoing, and the power of a wicked -tyrant to fulfill his sordid wish, could have been no more ruthless in -his dastardly heartless methods of destruction. - -When the fire was finally ended the buildings that had been burned, if -placed in a row, would have extended for two hundred miles in a straight -line. - -Never in the world’s history has there been such a fire. The burning -of ancient London was child’s play beside it. Chicago’s fire was a -mere bagatelle. Never has the world read, never had the world dreamed, -of such a conflagration. In days to come, grandfathers will tell of it -to their grandchildren, nodding their sage old heads to emphasize the -horror of it all, relating to the young people who gather about their -knees, how great buildings supposed to be fire-proof crumpled up before -the swirling sheets of melting flame and the entire city became a prey -to the all-devouring conqueror. And this is the tragic story of proud -San Francisco, cosmic-tossed and fire-beleaguered capital of the -Occident. - - - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Treasure of Hidden Valley, by -Willis George Emerson - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TREASURE OF HIDDEN VALLEY -*** - -***** This file should be named 52461-0.txt or 52461-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: -http://www.gutenberg.org/5/2/4/6/52461/ - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously provided by Google -Books - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will be -renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. -Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this -license, apply to copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and -trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not -be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific -permission. If you do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, -complying with the rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly -any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances -and research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may -do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected -by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark -license, especially commercial redistribution. - -START: FULL LICENSE - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU -DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project -Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at -www.gutenberg.org/license. - -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works - -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree -to and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all the -terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy all -copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. -If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the -terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or -entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. - -1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few things -that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works even -without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement -and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic -works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the -Foundation” or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United States. -If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the United -States and you are located in the United States, we do not claim a right -to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, displaying or -creating derivative works based on the work as long as all references to -Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support -the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic -works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with -the terms of this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name -associated with the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this -agreement by keeping this work in the same format with its attached -full Project Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with -others. - -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in -a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check -the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement -before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing -or creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project -Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning -the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United -States. - -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate -access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently -whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which -the phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the phrase -“Project Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed: - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you’ll -have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using -this ebook. - -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived -from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not contain a -notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the copyright -holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in the United -States without paying any fees or charges. If you are redistributing -or providing access to a work with the phrase “Project Gutenberg” -associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply either with -the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or obtain permission -for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set -forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional -terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked -to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the -permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. - -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. - -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute -this electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg-tm License. - -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any -word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or -distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than -“Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site -(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense -to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means -of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original “Plain -Vanilla ASCII” or other form. Any alternate format must include the -full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing access -to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided that - -* You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from -the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method you -already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed to the -owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has agreed to donate -royalties under this paragraph to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive -Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid within 60 days following each -date on which you prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your -periodic tax returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such -and sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the -address specified in Section 4, “Information about donations to the -Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.” - -* You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies you -in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he does not -agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm License. You -must require such a user to return or destroy all copies of the works -possessed in a physical medium and discontinue all use of and all access -to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -* You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of -any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the -electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of -receipt of the work. - -* You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free -distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set forth -in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from both the -Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and The Project Gutenberg -Trademark LLC, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact -the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. - -1.F. - -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project -Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may -contain “Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, -inaccurate or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other -intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other -medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be -read by your equipment. - -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right -of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal fees. -YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT LIABILITY, -BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE PROVIDED IN -PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE TRADEMARK OWNER, -AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE LIABLE TO YOU FOR -ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES -EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGE. - -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a defect -in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can receive -a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a written -explanation to the person you received the work from. If you received -the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with your -written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with the -defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a -refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity -providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to -receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy -is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further -opportunities to fix the problem. - -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’, WITH NO -OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. - -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. -If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the -law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be -interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by -the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any -provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. - -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, -the trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance -with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, -promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, -harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, -that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do -or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm -work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any -Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm - -Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers -including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists -because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from -people in all walks of life. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm’s -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will remain -freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure and -permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. To -learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and -how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 and the -Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org Section 3. Information -about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the state -of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal Revenue -Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification number -is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive -Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by U.S. -federal laws and your state’s laws. - -The Foundation’s principal office is in Fairbanks, Alaska, with the -mailing address: PO Box 750175, Fairbanks, AK 99775, but its volunteers -and employees are scattered throughout numerous locations. Its business -office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, -(801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up to date contact information -can be found at the Foundation’s web site and official page at -www.gutenberg.org/contact - -For additional contact information: - -Dr. Gregory B. Newby Chief Executive and Director gbnewby@pglaf.org - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide spread -public support and donations to carry out its mission of increasing -the number of public domain and licensed works that can be freely -distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest array -of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations ($1 to -$5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt status with -the IRS. - -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular state -visit www.gutenberg.org/donate - -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. - -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make any -statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from outside -the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. - -Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other ways -including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To donate, -please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic -works. - -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm -concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared -with anyone. For forty years, he produced and distributed Project -Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. - -Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright -in the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. 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: -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. - - - - |