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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3ae3de6 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #60010 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/60010) diff --git a/old/60010-0.txt b/old/60010-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index c851d5f..0000000 --- a/old/60010-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,7497 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Up Grade, by Wilder Goodwin - -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 Up Grade - -Author: Wilder Goodwin - -Illustrator: Charles Grunwald - -Release Date: July 29, 2019 [EBook #60010] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE UP GRADE *** - - - - -Produced by WebRover, Peter Vachuska and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - - - - - -THE UP GRADE - - - - -[Illustration: “The candle in the niche behind her cast a dim light over -the soft curves of Jean’s cheeks”] - - - - - THE UP GRADE - - BY - WILDER GOODWIN - - WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY - CHARLES GRUNWALD - - BOSTON - LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY - 1910 - - _Copyright, 1910_, - BY LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY - - _All rights reserved_ - - Published, January, 1910 - - Fifth Printing - - THE UNIVERSITY PRESS, CAMBRIDGE, U.S.A. - - - - -TO MY MOTHER - -MAUD WILDER GOODWIN - - - - -ILLUSTRATIONS - - - “The candle in the niche behind her cast a dim light - over the soft curves of Jean’s cheeks” _Frontispiece_ - - PAGE - - “The girl was kneeling beside him” 36 - - “‘It seems like as if you was bitten, Mr. Loring,’ said Hankins” 125 - - “No one quite dared to lead an attack upon Knowlton, who stood - his ground beside the body” 241 - - - - -THE UP GRADE - - - - -CHAPTER I - - -Stephen Loring sat on the edge of the sidewalk, his feet in the gutter. -He was staring vacantly at the other side of the street, completely -oblivious of his surroundings. No one would select a Phœnix sidewalk as -an attractive resting-place, unless, like Loring, he were compelled by -circumstances over which he had ceased to have control. - -“Here, ‘Hombre’! How are you stacking up? Do you want a job?” - -With an uncertain “Yes,” Loring arose from the sidewalk, before looking -at the man who addressed him. Turning, he saw a brisk, sandy whiskered -man about forty-five years of age, who fairly beamed with efficiency, and -whose large protruding eyes seemed to see in every direction at once. - -The questioner looked only for a second at the man before him. The face -told its own story—the story of a man who had quit. The tired eyes half -apologized for the lines beneath them. - -“Easterner,” decided the prospective employer, “since he wears a belt -and not suspenders.” The stranger extended his hand in an energetic -manner, and continued: “My name is McKay. The Quentin Mining Company, up -in the hills, want men. They sent me down to round up a few. You are the -forty-first man, and the boss bet me that I would only get forty.” - -Loring’s head was still swimming as the result of a period of drunkenness -which only lack of funds had brought to a close. By way of answer he -merely nodded wearily and murmured: “My name is Loring.” - -His taciturnity in no wise discouraged his interlocutor, for the -latter paused merely to wipe the perspiration from his forehead with a -handkerchief which might possibly once have been white. Then, slipping -his arm through Loring’s, he went on with his communications: “The boss -bet me I would lose half the men I got, but they will have their troubles -trying to lose me. Come right along down to the station! I have them all -corralled there with a friend watching them. I don’t suppose you have -such a hell of a lot of packing to do,” he drawled, looking at Loring’s -disheveled apparel with a comprehending smile. “I went broke myself once -in ’Frisco. Why, Phœnix is a gold mine for opportunities compared with -that place! I’ll set you up to a drink now. There is nothing like it to -clear your head.” - -During this running fire of talk, McKay had convoyed Loring to a -saloon. The proprietor was sitting listlessly behind a roulette wheel, -idly spinning it, the while he made imaginary bets with himself on the -results, and was seemingly as elated or depressed as if he had really -won or lost money. Observing the entrance of the two men, he rose and -sauntered over behind the bar. - -“What will you have, gents?” - -“I guess about two whiskies,” answered McKay. “Will you have something -with us?” - -“Well, I don’t mind if I do take a cigar,” answered the barkeeper, as, -after pouring their drink, he stretched his arm into the dirty glass -case. Then he aimed an ineffectual blow with a towel at the flies on the -dirty mirror, and returned to his wheel. - -McKay wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and licked the last -drops of whisky from his mustache. Then again taking Loring by the arm, -he stepped out into the street. The heat, as they walked toward the -railroad tracks, was terrific. The dusty stretch of road which led to the -station shimmered with the glare. No one who could avoid it moved. In the -shade of the buildings, the dogs sprawled limply. Now and then riders -passed at a slow gait, the horses a mass of lather and dusty sweat. One -poor animal loped by, driven on by spur, with head down, and tail too -dejected to switch off the flies. - -Loring watched him. “I think,” he mused, “that that poor horse feels as I -do. Only he has not the alleviating satisfaction of knowing that he is to -blame for it himself.” - -The station platform was crowded with battered specimens of Mexican -peons, chattering in high-pitched, slurred syllables. Their swarthy -faces immeasurably irritated Stephen. Three white men, standing a little -apart, looked rather scornfully at the crowd. The only difference in -their appearance, however, was that while each of the white men had two -suspenders, the overalls of each of the Mexicans were supported by only -one. It would have been hard to gather together a more bedraggled set of -men than these were; but McKay counted them with loving pride. - -“Forty-one! All here!” he exclaimed. “Hop aboard the train, boys; we’re -off!” - -“Railway fare comes out of your first two days’ work,” he exclaimed -cheerfully to Loring. - -The train was of the “mixed” type that crawls about the southwest. A -dingy, battered, passenger coach trailed at the end of a long line -of freight cars, which were labeled for the most part with the white -circle and black cross of the “Atcheson, Topeka and Santa Fé.” The men -scrambled aboard, the engine grunted lazily, protestingly, and the long -train slowly started. Until the train was well under way, McKay stood -with his broad back against the door, his hand lying nonchalantly but -significantly on a revolver beneath his vest, then, with a contented -smile, he dropped into a seat. - -Loring had no hat. In Arizona, a man may go without his trousers, and be -called eccentric. To go without a hat is ungentlemanly. Consequently the -three other white men whom McKay had collected kept themselves aloof, -and Stephen, crawling into a seat beside a voluble Chinaman, dozed off -in misery, wondering whether the murmuring buzz that he heard was in -his head, or in the car wheels. The Chinaman looked down at Stephen’s -unshaven face and matted hair, and grinned pleasantly. - -“He allee samee broke,” he murmured to himself, crooning with pleasure. - -For six hours the train had been plowing its way across the desert, -backing, stopping, groaning, wheezing. The blue line of the hills seemed -little nearer than in the morning. Only the hills behind seemed farther -away. Now and then, far out in the sage-brush, a film of dust hung low -in the air, telling of some sheep outfit driving to new grazing lands. -On the side of the train next Loring, a trail followed the line of the -telegraph poles. Wherever the trail crossed the track and ran for a while -on the opposite side, Stephen felt a childish anger at it, for otherwise -he could amuse himself by counting the skeletons of horses and cattle, -which every mile or so made splatches of pure white against the gray -white of the dust. The passengers slouched in the hot seats, rolling -countless cigarettes with the dexterity which marks the Southwesterner, -drawing the string of the “Durham” sack with a quick jerk of the teeth, -at the close of the operation. The air of the car reeked with smoke. At -each little station-shed new men joined the crowd, being received with -looks of silent sympathy and invariably proffering a request for the -“makings.” When this was received, they resignedly settled on the torn -black leather of the seats, trying to accomplish the impossible feat of -resting their necks on the edge of the backs without cramping their legs -against the seats in front of them. - -The train stopped suddenly with a jerk which was worse than usual, as -if the engine had stumbled over itself. The brakeman, a target for many -jests, hurried through the car. - -“What have we stopped for now?” drawled McKay. “To enjoy the scenic -effect?” - -“Horse runned along ahead of the engine and bust his leg in the trestle,” -laconically answered the brakeman. - -“The son-of-a-gun! Now, the critter showed durned poor judgment, didn’t -he?” - -The brakeman swore mildly, and disappeared. In a few minutes he returned, -carefully spat in the empty stove, and the train casually moved on again. - -Seeing a paper lying in the aisle, as he walked down the car, the -brakeman stooped and picked it up. His eye fell upon a large red seal, -and much elaborate writing. With a puzzled expression he read the -document. - - “UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. DEPARTMENT OF STATE. - - “To all whom these presents may concern, Greeting. I, the - undersigned, Secretary of State, of the United States - of America, hereby request all whom it may concern to - permit—Stephen Loring—a citizen of the United States, safely - and freely to pass, and in case of need to give him all lawful - aid and protection.” - -“It must be a passport,” he thought. “First one I ever seed, though. I -wonder who might Stephen Loring be.” - -His eye fell upon the appended description: - - “Age, 23 yrs., 4 mos. - Stature, 6 ft. 1. - Forehead, Broad. - Eyes, Brown. - Nose, Irregular. - Mouth, Wide. - Chin, Medium. - Hair, Black. - Complexion, Ruddy. - Face, Square.” - -He looked about at the men in the car until his eye fell on Stephen. - -“That’s him, all right,” he thought. “I should say it would be sort of -inconvenient to have such a good description to fill!” - -He went to Stephen and touched him on the shoulder. “Hey, stranger, I -reckon this belongs to you.” - -Loring, surprised, took the proffered paper. Then he felt in the pocket -of his coat. - -“I think it must have fallen out of my pocket. Much obliged!” he -exclaimed. - -It was an old passport, expired ten years since, but Stephen carried it -about with him as a means of identification in case of accident. - -“How did you know that this was mine?” he asked the brakeman from idle -curiosity. - -The man pointed with an exceedingly dirty thumb to the description. - -“I ain’t no detective, but I reckon that fits pretty well.” Then he -nodded to Loring and walked away. - -Loring glanced idly at the passport as it lay open on his knee. As he did -so he wondered what the friends who knew him ten years back, at the time -when that document was issued, would say to his appearance now. “Wild -oats gone to seed. I guess that about describes me,” he murmured, with a -grim smile, as he folded the passport and slipped it back into the frayed -lining of his pocket. Dissipation and wreck do not change the color of -a man’s eyes, the shape of his forehead or the outline of his face, so -that it had still been possible to recognize Loring by his old passport. -Had it been a description of his personality instead of his measurements, -no one could have recognized the original. Mathematically it is but the -difference of an inch from a retreating chin to one thrust forward; -artistically a very slight touch will turn frank eyes into hopeless -ones; philosophically the turning of the corners of the lips downward -instead of upward may change the whole viewpoint of life. Experience is -mathematician, artist, and philosopher combined, and it had accomplished -all these changes in Stephen Loring. - -Through the parting kindness of friends, most of the men had some food, -which they proceeded to chew with noisy satisfaction. Loring began to -feel cravings. The Chinaman beside him was gnawing at a huge ham sandwich -with a very green pickle protruding from between the edges of the bread. -He eyed Loring, then turned to him and asked: “You hab bite? My name Hop -Wah. I go cook for the outfit. Me heap fine cook,” solemnly added the -celestial. - -Loring gratefully shared the food. - -The men in the car, who until now had been rather morose and silent, -began to cheer up, and to sing noisily. Loring lazily wondered why, until -he saw several black bottles passed promiscuously about. McKay handed his -own flask to Loring. - -“Have another drink!” he said, “there is nothing like it for a hang-over.” - -Loring took a deep pull at the flask. - -“Hey, Chink, have some?” continued McKay. - -Wah smiled and shook his head. - -“Don’t drink, eh? Well, I’ll bet then that you are strong on dope,” said -McKay, as he returned the flask to his pocket. - -Night began to turn the color of the hills to a rich cobalt. Now and -then the train crawled past shacks whose evening fires were beginning -to twinkle in the dusk. Little camps scattered in the niches of the -foothills showed gray and blurred. Jagged masses of rock, broken by -cuts and hollows, now overshadowed the train. Giant cacti, growing at -impossible angles from pinnacles and crevasses, loomed against the sky -line. As the hills shut in, the roar of the train echoed of a sudden -louder and louder where the desert runs flat as a board to the hills, and -then with no transition becomes the hills. - -“Only fifteen miles more now, boys,” sang out McKay; “but it may take two -hours,” he added under his breath. - -Cheered by this announcement, one of the Mexicans groped under his seat -and produced a large nondescript bundle, which, after sundry cuttings -of string, and unwrapping of paper, resolved itself into a guitar. -Then, after fishing in his pockets, he produced a mouth-organ with two -clamps attached. Loring, for want of better occupation, watched him. -The man deftly fastened the harmonica to the edge of the guitar. Then -slinging the dirty red guitar ribbon over his neck, he played a few -warning chords. When the attention of all was fixed upon him, he bent -his head over the mouth-organ, and strumming the guitar accompaniment -with sweeping strokes, rendered a selection that had once been “A Georgia -Camp-Meeting.” The applause being generous, the artist threw himself -into the spirit of his performance. - -“Thees time—with variations,” he exclaimed excitedly. And they were -variations! - -McKay regarded his flock with genial interest. - -“Ain’t he the musical boy, though?” he observed to Loring. - -“Playing those two together is quite a trick,” thought Loring; “I must -learn it.” Then he realized that he could not even play either singly. -Such impulses and awakenings were frequent with him. Constructively he -felt himself capable of doing almost anything. The ridiculousness of his -thought aroused him from his lethargy, and he began to hum softly the -tune that car wheels always play. - -At eight o’clock the engine gave a last exhausted wheeze, and stopped. -“Quentin. All ashore!” called out McKay. - -The men took their bundles from the racks, crowded down the aisle, and -out to the rickety station platform, where the ticket agent, lantern in -hand, looked at them wonderingly. - -“I didn’t lose a man on the trip,” McKay said to the agent, in answer to -the latter’s query of “What in _hell_?” “Well, boys,” went on McKay, “it -is ten miles to where we camp, and there ain’t no hearses, so I guess -we’ll have a nice little moonlight stroll.” - -The station settlement of Quentin consisted of a few scattered tents, -and of five saloons, with badly spelled signs. One shack bore in large -letters the proud legend: “Grocery Store.” It had evidently been adopted -as a residence, for in smaller letters beneath the sign was painted: -“This ain’t no store—Keep out!” Loring, with lazy amusement, read this -evidence of a shiftlessness greater than his own. - -The crowd began to gravitate toward the saloons. “Hey, other way there!” -shouted McKay, for he well knew that if the crowd began drinking there, -very few would reach camp. A big Mexican, who had been imbibing heavily -on the train, lurched toward the saloons, bellowing: “Me much _mal’ -hombre_. I take a drink when I damn please!” - -“You much _mal’ hombre_, eh?” said McKay, smiling. “Then take that!” He -stepped up to the man, and let drive a blow from one shoulder that almost -broke the mutineer’s jaw. The man staggered, then turned and ran, but up -the trail. The other men howled with laughter, then they picked up their -blanket rolls and bundles, and laughing and singing started up the trail, -where the deep shadows of the tall suwaras made black streaks against the -white porphyry of the projecting cliffs. - -Loring and Hop Wah followed at the end of the procession, the former -consoling himself for his lack of blankets by thinking how much easier -walking was without them; the latter cheerfully singing a song of which -verse, chorus, and _envoi_ were: “La la boom boom! La la boom boom!” If -this were lacking in originality, it was at least capable of infinite -repetition, and it turned out to be Wah’s one musical number. - -Mile after mile up the trail toiled the straggling line, the Mexicans -calling loudly to each other, or mocking with jeering whoops the -unfortunates who slipped on the loose stones. McKay, chuckling to himself -with pleasure, led the little band. He was thinking of the expressions of -praise and surprise, of the congratulations upon the successful outcome -of his expedition, which would be bestowed upon him in camp. - -Immediately ahead of Loring walked the three other white men of the -collection. The volubility of their cursing, as they stumbled along, -caused McKay to drop back to them. After the customary greeting of “Well, -gents, how are you stacking up?” he began to probe into the cause of -their discontent. - -“What’s the work, boss, anyhow?” they asked. - -“Can you ‘polish’ the head of a drill?” asked McKay. He inquired as a -matter of form, for one glance at their slouching shoulders and their -thin chests had given him his answer. “Can’t?” he observed cheerfully. -“Well, I guess your work will be ‘mucking’ on a narrow gauge railway -grade that we are building.” - -“Mucking!” growled one. “Ain’t there nothing else that we can do besides -scratch around with a pick and shovel?” - -“Well, Sullivan, it is that at first. Later, if I can get you a job out -at the main camp, I will. It is sort of hard on you fellows to have to -grub with all these ‘Mex’ at the road camp; but as soon as you get a -little ‘time’ saved up you can start in buying your own stuff and messing -together.” - -“Save up ‘time’!” exclaimed Sullivan. “Hell! There ain’t no use savin’ -anything in this Gawd-forsaken country.” - -“Well, cheer up, anyway!” laughed McKay. “Here is the ground where the -road camp lies.” Several camp-fires blazed suddenly out of the darkness. -Around them many shadowy figures were grouped. These gathered with -interest about the newcomers, noisily commenting upon their appearance. -“Here we are, boys. The tents ain’t down here yet; but sleeping out -of doors is powerful healthy. Sure Mike!” he added, poking a grinning -Mexican boy in the ribs. “_Seguro Miguel!_ Nothing like it, is there, -Pedro?” - -“How about the rattle-bugs, Boss?” asked Sullivan, the malcontent. - -“There ain’t no rattlesnakes out in April. Besides, if there was, they -would not bite your carcass,” answered McKay, irritated by the man’s -attitude of continual grumbling. - -The men all busied themselves unrolling their blankets and looking -for sheltered places in which to sleep. Loring was not accustomed to -construction camps. He thought that for the white men, at least, sleeping -accommodations must have been provided. - -“Where can I sleep?” he asked McKay. - -The latter grinned from one big ear to the other. “Say,” he drawled, -“that’s good! Your hot bath ain’t ready though. Haven’t got any blankets, -have you?” he added, relenting a bit. “Better crawl in with some one -to-night. To-morrow, when I come down here from the copper camp, I’ll -bring you a pair. I guess you won’t skip till you have done enough work -to pay for them, as you won’t have money enough to vamos. And, say, I’ve -got a swell hat that I will give you. It ain’t respectable or refined -like not to have one.” - -The rough kindness touched Loring deeply, and he began to thank him -warmly. - -McKay uttered a brisk good night and turned to walk up the trail which -led to the main camp, two miles beyond. The Mexican whom the boss had -knocked down at the station stepped suddenly forward. Expecting trouble, -Loring jumped to his feet. He heard McKay say: “I guess the señorita -won’t think much of your beauty now, will she, Manuel? I’ll send the -doctor down in the morning to fix up that face of yours.” The Mexican, -instead of rushing at McKay, exclaimed excitedly: “Oh, boss, you just -like a father to me!” - -Still smiling at the sudden change of temper Loring lay down on the -ground, and tried to sleep. The knife-like cold of the Arizona night made -him shiver. Striving to keep warm, he rolled from side to side. Suddenly, -from out of the darkness near him, he heard a soft laugh: “Hey, me -bludder, Hop Wah got plenty blankets. Roll here!” Gratefully he crawled -in between the Chinaman’s blankets. Wah looked at him curiously. “La la -boom boom,” he crooned to himself. “Heap lot whisky.” Then he turned over -and went peacefully to sleep. - -Loring lay rigidly upon his back. Conscience, remorse, and a rock -beneath his fourth rib, all kept him awake. The stars did not answer his -half-framed questions, so he shut his eyes. It is hard to think when the -eyes are closed, so he opened them again. It was a very simple question -that he reiterated to the shadows, to the embers of the fire, and to -the drone of the Gila river. It consisted of one word—“Why?” There was -no need of his asking any one except himself; but he put off as long as -possible asking the one person who could answer, for he KNEW why. His -friends had always been so ready to make excuses for his shortcomings, -that in graciousness he could do no less than acquiesce. But in spite -of the veil with which memory surrounds facts, when a man lies awake at -night he is likely to see them as they are. - -That both of Stephen’s parents had died when he was a child was no answer -to the question which he asked of the fire and the river. His uncle had -educated him with an affectionate insight which no parent could have -bettered. That he had not all along realized what he was doing was no -answer. A keen judge of men, Loring was an inspired critic of himself. It -was not lack of ambition that had dragged him down, for always there had -been a longing for those things which were not within his grasp. There -was no inherent vice in his character. There was courage, loyalty, and -kindness. There was only one thing lacking—some power to drive the whole. - -Most people are either led or pushed through life. But there are some -whose motive power must come from within. - - - - -CHAPTER II - - -At half-past six the next morning the whistle in the upper camp blew -long and clear. It is a strange fact that the dispassionate whistle in -the morning is the brutal enemy of labor, calling its victims to the -struggle; but that at noon it is impartial and cheerful. It then attempts -the rôle of referee in the great game between labor and capital and, like -a good umpire, favors neither. Yet the same whistle at night, when it -calls the game off, becomes the warm ally of the workman, encouraging him -openly with promise of rest and supper. It is then as if it said to him: -“I was compelled to be impartial. That is my duty; but frankly, now that -it is over, I am glad that you have won.” - -Loring opened his eyes as he heard the morning whistle, and, at first a -little dazed, looked about him. Then he rose and stretched himself. Every -bone in his body ached as the result of the night on the hard ground. -All around him men were yawning sleepily as they crawled out of their -blankets. Close beside the camp ran the tawny Gila river. Stephen walked -down to the bank, and kneeling on a small rock which lay half afloat in -the ooze mud, endeavored to wash. Then, refreshed, if not much cleaner, -he made his way to the cook tent. Here under a fly stretched on poles -were four long tables, heaped with tin plates and condensed milk cans. -The monotony of the table furnishings was broken by a few dingy cans, -decorated with labels of very red tomatoes, which served as sugar and -salt holders. The old inhabitants of the camp were noisily greeting the -newcomers, pounding on their cups and whistling whenever they perceived -some old acquaintance. - -The labor of the Southwest is of a very vagrant quality. A man merely -works until he has money enough to move. Each time that he moves he -spends all his money on a celebration, so that his wanderings, though -frequent, are not long in duration. Thus many of these men had met -before, around the smelters in Globe, in the Tucson district, or north in -the Yavapai. - -Loring found a place on one of the rickety benches, and looked toward -the coffee-bucket. Sullivan, who was opposite to him, growled gloomily: -“Say, the grub is rank. This coffee is festered water.” The description, -though not an appetizing one with which to begin a meal, was not without -truth. In varying degree it might have been applied to the rest of the -breakfast, from the red, tasteless frijollas to the stew, which consisted -of a few shreds of over-cooked meat, in the midst of a nondescript mass -of questionable grease. - -As Loring had finished eating what he could of the meal, and was -contemplating borrowing some tobacco, the foremen, who, as etiquette -demands, had eaten their breakfast in a group apart from the men, began -to look at their watches, and to stir about actively. - -“Hurry up now, boys! Out on the grade—quick! _Vamos!_ Only five minutes -more now!” they called. - -The tools of the old workmen were scattered along the grade, where each -had dropped them at the end of the previous day’s work. The newcomers -were marched single file, through the tool-house, where each picked out -his implements, then started off to the place assigned him. Loring, -not from altruism, but because he did not know the difference which -well chosen tools make in a long day’s toil, made no effort to grab. In -consequence he emerged from the shed supplied with a split shovel, and a -dull, loose-headed pick. A foreman beckoned him to a place on the grade, -opposite to the cook tent. He immediately started to swing his pick. - -“Don’t be in such a hell of a hurry!” called Sullivan, “you’ll have -plenty to do later.” - -The seven o’clock whistle blew sharply. “Lope her, boys!” sang out the -section foreman. All talking stopped abruptly, and the click of picks, -swung with steady blows, and the rasp of shovels echoed all along the -grade. Loring, new to “mucking,” swung his pick with all the strength of -his back, bringing it down, with rigid full arm strokes, upon the rocky -soil. The foreman noticed this with amusement. “He’ll bust in an hour,” -he thought; but he only said: “Loosen your grip a bit or you’ll get -stone-bruises.” Then he passed on up the line, to tell a Mexican, who had -already stopped to light a cigarette, that “this ain’t no rest cure.” - -Hop Wah from the depths of the cook tent perceived Loring’s energetic -labors, and called out to him: “Hey, me bludder, no swing like that! -No damnee use. Just let him pick fall!” Stephen nodded gratefully, and -complied with the practical advice. He worked steadily, only pausing to -exchange his pick for a shovel, whenever he had broken enough earth, or -loosened some large stone. “Surely,” he thought, “I can keep this up for -ten hours. Here, at last, is a job that I can do.” - -Stephen Loring had never in his life “made good.” He had started well -on many ventures, and then given out. His friends had at first been -intensely admiring, and had predicted great things for him; but gradually -they had given him up as hopeless. They would have lent him money -cheerfully; but a determination not to borrow was one of his few virtues. -In consequence, having fallen stage by stage, he was now reduced to being -a day laborer, a “mucker,” watched by a foreman to see that he did not -shirk. If the same method had been applied to him earlier, it might have -been his salvation. As it was, he had sunk beneath the current. - -The next hour seemed to Loring twice as long as the first. His wrist -pulsed with agony from the jar of the blows. He was compelled to wrap -his handkerchief around his right hand, as he had worn great blisters -sliding it up and down the pick handle. The sweat, as it rolled down from -his forehead, made his cheeks smart. Every few minutes he was forced to -rest. At ten o’clock the time-keeper came to him, and, drawing a shabby -brown book from his pocket, entered Stephen’s name on the rolls. Then he -drew from his pocket and handed to Loring a brass tag, like a baggage -check. “Your number is four fifty-three; keep this now!” - -Stephen looked at the tag for a second, then slipped it into his pocket. -It did not jangle against anything. He leaned on his pick handle for -a moment, and with mild interest listened to the time-keeper, as he -accosted the Mexican who was working next to him. - -“Eh, _hombre_! What’s your name? _Cómo se llama?_” - -The foreman spoke sharply to Stephen, and with the blood rising slightly -to his temples at the rebuke, he fell to work again. - -Loring possessed a strong imagination and he had solaced many a hardship -by either planning for pleasanter occupations in the future, or vividly -reconstructing worse ones in the past. But imagination is a dangerous -plaything. The men working on either side of him thought of nothing, -except perhaps some solution of the great problem of the human race, -how to make the greatest possible show of work with the least effort. -Stephen, however, was accompanied in his work by imagination. To-day it -was of a sort which was neither subtle nor pleasant. It began by saying -to him: “You are healthy. You will probably live for thirty years or -more. They will be pleasant years, won’t they? There are three hundred -and sixty-five days in a year, so if you work ten hours a day for thirty -years, perhaps you may grow used to work. Work is a great companion, is -it not, Stephen? It is unfortunate,” finished imagination glibly, “that -you must do this forever.” - -Loring spoke aloud in answer to his imagination, timing his syllables to -the already shortened strokes of his pick. “Not forever?” - -“Well,” rejoined imagination, “I see no alternative, do you? And what -is more,” added the Devil who at this moment was operating imagination, -“_You_ are not even building the railroad. All _you_ are doing is moving -rocks. _Any one_ can move rocks.” - -By noon time Stephen was limp and exhausted. The hour’s respite seemed to -him to go by like a flash, and he started upon the afternoon’s work in a -hopeless frame of mind, his muscles stiffened instead of rested by the -short relaxation. - -After an hour’s labor, he moved to a place where the ground was soft, and -for a while his delight in this supported him. It is little things such -as this which make the epochs in a day of manual labor. As he toiled on -grimly, in a few short hours, he had reversed his views on Socialism. - -“Of course the laborer is the chief factor in production,” he murmured -wearily to himself, as he grew more and more dizzy. - -At three o’clock, McKay, with a surveying party, reached the section of -the grade where Loring was working. Stephen watched him, as he stooped -over the level and waved his hand up and down. He heard him shout “O. K. -back sight! Ready fore sight!” Then “O. K. fore sight! _’Sta ’ueno!_” and -somehow the cheery tones braced Loring for his work. - -McKay, as he came up, nodded cheerfully: “I left that hat for you in -the cook tent,” he said; “it will make you look like a real man!” Then -noticing the agonized swings of the pick, he looked at Loring quizzically. - -“Say, I reckon you ain’t done this sort of thing for some time, have you? -I guess a short spell at flagging wouldn’t discourage you. Go up to the -tool-house, and get a white flag that you’ll find there. Then go up to -that point back there, where the wagon road crosses the grade. I’ll put -another flagman on the point below, and when he waves, you stop anything -that comes along. In a few minutes we are going to “shoot” all along -here, and I don’t want to blow up any teams or people that are going up -to the copper camp.” - -Loring dropped his pick with alacrity, and started for the tool-shed. -As he walked back along the grade, he looked with curious interest at -the men who were still working. Somehow their labors seemed a part of -himself. His back ached sympathetically as they stooped to their work. -At the shed he found the dirty white rag and stick which served for -flagging. Then he hurried to his place. He passed Sullivan, who waved -joyously to him. - -“The boss has set me flagging, too. Gee, what a graft! Me for a nap, as -soon as they start to shoot. There won’t any teams go by, when they hear -the shots, and I can get a good sleep.” - -“You had better not,” answered Loring. Then, feeling that it was none of -his business, he went on to the place which McKay had assigned to him. -He seated himself on a large rock, from which he could see far in all -directions. He was at the end of the grade nearest to the copper camp, -and he could see the great iron chimneys of the smelter, protruding above -the hills to the north, belching forth black smoke against the brilliant -blue of the sky. “The whole country looks as if it had been made with -a hack-saw,” he mused, as he looked at the jagged rocks and irregular -mountains about him. “I would give a great deal to see something green -besides this accursed cactus; but I suppose that grass and civilization -go together.” - -Then, watching for a signal, he fixed his eyes on the point of rock where -Sullivan was stationed. After a few minutes he saw, against the brown -background of the rocks, a spot of white move quickly up and down. He -immediately ran out into the road, and stopped a line of coke teams that -was coming down from the camp. The drivers merely threw on their brakes, -and let the thin-boned, almost transparent horses tug uselessly at the -traces, until they discovered the vainness of the effort. Then horses, -like drivers, relapsed into the comatose acceptance of conditions, which -in the land of the cactus becomes part of man and beast. McKay came up on -horseback, calling out to the first of the drivers: “Hold your horses! -The e-l-ephants are about to pass!” The Mexican, just as though he had -understood, grinned, then again dozed off. - -One by one, far down the grade, little puffs of smoke began to curl at -the places where the drillers’ gangs had been working. The men, howling -in mock terror, came tearing past the place where Loring and McKay were -standing. They would run several hundred yards further than safety -required in order to delay by a few moments their return to work when -the blasting was finished. As the men surged by, McKay, in spite of his -disgust, grinned. - -“Trust a Mex to find some way to shorten work,” he said to Loring. In -rapid succession the “shots” began to go off; whole sections of the -cliffs seemed to swell, then gave forth a fat volume of smoke, and -finally burst, hurling fragments of brown-black rock against the sky -line. Then, a fraction of an instant later, the dull, muffled boom -carried to the ear. - -“Regular bombardment, ain’t it!” exclaimed McKay. “Wo-op! duck!” As a -large jagged piece of shale came whizzing over their heads he and Loring -simultaneously dropped to the ground. - -“Ain’t it funny?” said McKay, as they got to their feet again. “Now time -and again these things won’t go fifty feet, then all of a sudden they -chase a fellow who is a quarter of a mile away.” - -The heaviest “shot” of all was to be fired in a place near Loring’s -position, where a deep spur of black diorite protruded across the grade. -During five days gangs had been drilling on this spur, so that its face -was honeycombed with ten deep holes, for diorite is almost as hard -as iron, and to make any impression upon it requires an immense load -of powder. McKay himself had superintended the loading, patting the -charges firmly down with the tamping rod, until, as he expressed it, he -had enough powder there to “blow hell up to heaven.” They had waited to -fire these “shots” until the last of the others had exploded, and now -the little group of men who were nearest began to look everywhere for -shelter. The waiting teams were backed up close against the ledge, while -the drivers crawled underneath the wagons for protection. Loring and -McKay stood beside a large boulder, behind which they could drop when the -explosion came. Into every niche men crawled, waiting for the shock. - -The foreman bent over the first fuse, and a wisp of thin blue smoke arose -at the touch of his hand. - -“Hope he ain’t cut the fuses too long,” growled McKay anxiously. “If -one of those loads misses fire, it won’t be safe to work in this -neighborhood.” The foreman stepped quickly from fuse to fuse, and spurt -after spurt of smoke began to curl from the rock, some hanging low, some -rising. The foreman stooped over one of the fuses for a second time. - -“It’s missed!” exclaimed McKay. “No, he’s got it. Hey, _beat_ it! -Quick!” he shouted, as the thin smoke began to turn from whitish-blue to -yellow-brown. The foreman ran back a up the grade towards them. - -“The damned fool!” breathed McKay. “Like as not he’ll kill himself, and -it will take me a week to find another man who can shoot the way he can. -About thirty seconds more, and that rock is going to jump!” - -Loring raised his eyes. Far down the grade, beyond the point, he saw a -speck. The speck grew larger and became a horse and rider. - -McKay saw it too. “Sullivan will warn him,” he said tersely. “My God!” he -yelled, “it’s a woman, and her pony is running away.” - -Loring made a jump into the grade and dashed towards the smoke. The -yellow-brown turned to the black-brown that just precedes an explosion. -It poured forth from the ground like a volcano. - -“He can’t even reach the ‘shots,’” gasped McKay. “Oh, my God, where was -the other flagman! Only fifty yards more—He must make it!—He will!—He’s -reached the spot; he’s past it. He will—God, and there’s ten shots -there!” Even as he spoke the surface of the earth belched forth rumbling -thunder and burst into fragments. McKay dropped flat on the ground, -behind the sheltering boulder. A great cloak of brown smoke punctured -with huge black rocks shut out the scene. Then, with dull, splashing -thuds, the rocks began to fall into the muddy river which dragged itself -along beside the grade. First came a few solemn splashes as the large -rocks fell, then faster, a very hailstorm of fragments, as the smaller -pieces showered down. The Mexicans were cursing frantically, adding to -the roar a shrill pitch. - -The first three “shots” went off in lightning succession. A pause, then -two more. - -“Five!” yelled McKay. - -Then three more “shots” boomed deeply. McKay and the foreman knelt behind -the boulder, pale, breathing hard, striving to guess what lay behind that -wall of smoke. Another pause, then a terrific report. - -“Nine, only one more!” shouted the foreman. They waited ten seconds,—no -other shot. Then ten seconds more. They rose to their feet and started -forward. “Two must have gone off at once,” yelled McKay. Another roar, -and they had barely time to reach cover before the shower of rocks again -fell. - -“_Ten!_ Come on!” roared McKay. The rocks had hardly fallen, before he, -followed by a dozen others, was rushing through the smoke to what he knew -must be beyond. The grade was blocked with great masses of rock, and by -the time they had climbed over these barriers, the smoke had cleared. - -They found Loring lying on his face, his right hand still grasping the -bridle of the dead horse. The girl was kneeling beside him. As McKay -reached her side, he recognized the daughter of the manager of the mine. -He raised her to her feet, while as if dazed by the miracle he repeated: -“You ain’t hurt, Miss Cameron? You ain’t hurt?” She shook herself -free from him, then knelt again by Stephen, trying to stanch with her -handkerchief the blood that was flowing from a great cut in his temple. -She looked up at McKay with an anxious appeal in her eyes. “Is he dead?” -she asked. - -[Illustration: “The girl was kneeling beside him.” _Page 36_] - -McKay bent over, and opening the rough shirt felt Loring’s heart. “No, -he’s alive still, but he’s pretty close to gone,” he answered. He -untwisted the tight clenched fingers from the bridle, and half raised -the unconscious body. It lay limp in his arms. He turned to one of the -foremen who were gathered around. - -“Smith, get a horse and ride like hell for the company doctor!” The man -was off for the corral in an instant. - -“Now, Miss, you just leave him to us!” went on McKay. “See now, your -skirt is getting all blood.” - -For reply, she raised Loring’s head gently and placed it in her lap. -“Now, send some one for blankets and water,” she directed. - -“_Agua_, hey, _ag-ua_!” shouted McKay, and in a minute a little -pale-faced water boy came stumbling up with a bucket of muddy water. -McKay looked on in wonder while the girl deftly washed the dirt from the -wounds. - -“She has her nerve,” he thought. “There ain’t nothing like a woman.” - -One of the Mexicans came back from the cook tent with a blanket, and upon -this they gently lifted Stephen. Then four men carried him to the nearest -tent. Jean walked beside them, holding her wet handkerchief tightly -against Loring’s forehead, in vain attempt to stop the bleeding. They -laid him on the ground, inside the tent. - -“Now you must go, Miss Cameron,” implored McKay. “I’ll send you up to -camp in one of the teams. Your father would never forgive me if I let you -stay. Why you are as pale as—” - -The girl interrupted him decisively. “Are there any cloths here for -bandages?” - -He looked hopelessly around the tent with its pile of dirty quilts. - -“I don’t see anything,” he murmured. - -Jean seized the soft white stock about her neck, and with a quick tug -tore it off. “This will do,” she breathed, as she placed the impromptu -bandage about Loring’s head. - -“Now tie this! I can’t pull it tightly enough.” - -McKay drew the ends of the bandage together, and clumsily knotted them. -Then he thought of his one universal remedy. Meekly turning to Jean he -asked: “How about some whisky for him?” She nodded, and he drew a flask -from his pocket. With strong fingers he pried open Stephen’s jaws, and -poured the whisky down his throat. The stimulant brought a slight color -to the mask-like face. - -“I guess he would sure enjoy this some, if he were conscious,” thought -McKay grimly. The men had been sent back to work, and only he and Miss -Cameron knelt in the tent by Stephen, feeling anxiously for the slow -heart-beats in the big helpless frame. Then came the pound of horses’ -hoofs on the road, the sliding sound of a pony flung back in full career -upon his haunches, and the doctor stood pulling open the flaps of the -tent. Jean rose to her feet. - -“I shall only be in the way now,” she said, and stepped outside into the -vivid sunlight. - - - - -CHAPTER III - - -Two weeks had passed since the accident. Loring, whose life had been at -first despaired of, was gaining fast in strength, and enjoying the first -real comfort that he had known in months. As he lay quietly on the hard -canvas cot, the rough company hospital seemed to him a dream of luxury. - -His cot had been placed close to the door, where he could look out over -the little camp. The early morning light brought the whiteness of the -tents scattered about the plateau into clear contrast with the shadowy -brownness of the surrounding mountains, while in the sunlight the yellow -pine framework of the intermingled shacks sparkled brightly. The smelter -pounded away steadily, great wreaths of smoke pouring from its chimneys, -the blast sucking and breathing like some huge driven beast. Intermingled -with the sound was the clanging rasp of shovels, as the smelter stokers -piled coke into the furnace. Over on the far mountain a wood-laden burro -train was picking its way slowly down the trail. In the thin morning -air the tinkle of the bells on the animals’ necks and the sharp calls -of the drivers carried clear across the valley. Close by the smelter, -in the midst of the coal dust and cinders, stood a jaded horse, with a -harness made of chains. For two days it had fascinated Loring to see -the deft way in which the driver hooked this horse to the glowing slag -pots, and drove him along the narrow track that led out on the slag dump. -With the childishness of the sick, he harbored a deep grudge against -the shack, behind which the horse, with his molten load, would always -disappear. This prevented his seeing the operation of dumping the slag, -which he felt must be highly interesting. At the other side of the -doorway he could just see the corner of a newly finished shack. He looked -a bit gloomily at the completed building, for it had been delightful to -watch the carpenters at work upon it. In two days the whole house had -been finished, even to the tin roofing. This tin roofing, by the way, -had brought Stephen much joy, for the carpenter’s assistant had laid -the plates from top down, instead of beginning at the bottom, so that -the joints would overlap and be water-tight. In consequence the whole -roofing had been ripped off and done over again. - -The morning shift was just going to work, and the hurrying groups of men -passed the door on their way up to the mine. At the watering-trough each -stopped, and plunging his canteen deep into the water, held it there -until the burlap and flannel casing was saturated, ensuring a cooling -drink for them during their work. Loring laughed at himself when he found -himself wishing that they would not all wear blue denim overalls. - -Little water boys struggled past, each with a pole, like a yoke across -his shoulders, from either end of which hung a bucket. The men greeted -them as they passed, with calls of “Go-od boy!” “_Bueno muchacho!_” -Several of the men, as they passed, greeted Stephen with shy exclamations -of “_Eh, amigo—Cóm’ estamos?_” Then they went on to their work beneath -the ground. Loring was touched by these inquiries for his welfare, and -smiled in a friendly fashion at each. - -Loring’s smile had been one of his worst enemies, for it had so often -prevented people from telling him what they thought of him. It combined -a sensitiveness which was unexplained by the rather heavy molding of -his chin, with a humor which only one who had carefully studied his eyes -would be prepared for. It was an exasperating smile to those who did not -like him, for it possessed a quality of goodness and strength to which -they thought he had no right as an accompaniment to his character. On the -other hand, it was one of the attributes which most strongly attracted -his friends. It was not an analytical smile, so it put him in touch with -unanalytical people, yet it had a certain deprecating twist which could -convey a hint of subtlety. - -When the seven o’clock whistle blew, Loring thought of the gang at the -road camp lined up for ten hours of relentless toil, and he breathed deep -in contentment. - -“It is great to be laid up for a respectable cause,” he thought. Memories -of the times that he had spent at an old university in the East came to -him. He looked about him at the rough, bare boards, at the eight canvas -cots, at the lumps on three of them, where, wearing the inevitable pink -or sky blue undershirt, lay sick Mexican miners. He amused himself by -mentally filling with his old-time associates each of the empty cots. “I -wish they were all here,” he half exclaimed. Then it occurred to him -that this was not a very kindly wish. Loring heard the murmur of voices -outside the door, and listened attentively. He recognized the voice of -the company doctor. “It must be time for the morning clinic,” he thought -to himself. Then he listened to the brisk questioning and prescribing. - -“You feeling much _mal’_? Well, not so much whisky next time; get to -work!” - -Stephen heard a low-voiced question from some one. Then again the -doctor’s decided answer: “Of course not! Hospital fee does not pay for -crutches. What do you want for a dollar, anyhow?” - -He listened with interest as each man described his symptoms or his -needs. “It makes me feel almost well to hear about all those things,” he -reflected. The broad shoulders and cheerful smile of the doctor appeared -in the doorway, and with heavy footsteps the owner of these two pleasant -possessions approached Loring. - -“Feeling pretty good this morning?” asked the doctor. - -Stephen answered that he was. - -“That’s fine,” exclaimed the doctor. “At one time you were a pretty -tough case. I thought we’d have the trouble of a funeral in camp. Swell -affairs they are, here. But say, did you ever see a funeral in Phœnix? -Why, they _trots_ ’em in Phœnix!” - -Loring expressed his admiration for such a spirit of activity, while the -doctor was propping him up in bed, and adjusting the bandages. - -“I guess you won’t have to work for some days,” remarked the doctor. “It -is lucky you did one day’s work, as it just pays for your hospital fee -and medicine.” - -“Hard luck, doctor,” laughed Stephen, “but that had to go for traveling -expenses.” Hearing light footsteps on the porch outside, the doctor went -to the door. Loring heard him answer some question. - -“Well, Miss Cameron, I guess it won’t kill him to see you. It may even be -good for him. Come in by all means!” - -Loring looked up and saw framed in the doorway, like a picture, a girl -frank of eyes and fresh of coloring. A little Scotch cap was perched on -the waves of her tawny hair. Her gown was of dark blue, relieved at neck -and throat by bands of white, and girdled by a ribbon of red and blue -plaid. Across her arms lay a sheaf of yellow and red wild flowers such -as creep into abundant life among the forbidding rocks. The vision seemed -to bring a new tide of life and vigor to Loring. He forgot his weakness -and raised himself for a moment on his elbow; but the effort was too much -for him, and he sank back exhausted on his pillow. - -The girl hesitated for an instant. Then she stepped quickly over to his -cot. - -“This is Miss Cameron, Loring,” explained the doctor; “she has come to -thank you for what you have done.” - -The girl impulsively bent over him, and took his big, weak hand in her -own small, strong one. - -“Oh, I am glad that you are better. I would have come before to see you, -but the doctor would not allow it.” - -Loring looked malevolently at the doctor. - -“How can I thank you?” she went on. - -So fascinated was Stephen by the eager breathless way in which she spoke, -that he hardly understood what she was saying. With difficulty he raised -himself again on his elbow. “Why it was all in the day’s work of a -flagman,” he said. “There is nothing at all for which to thank me.” - -She shook her head in denial. “It is not in the day’s work of a flagman -to risk his life for someone whom he has never seen,” she said quickly. -“There is nothing that I can say which can possibly express my gratitude; -but you do know, don’t you?” As she spoke she looked at him appealingly. - -Stephen murmured something, he scarcely knew what, in reply, and was -conscious of wishing vaguely that the doctor would not look at him. - -Miss Cameron laid her armful of flowers beside him. As she dropped the -red and yellow sheaf, Stephen noticed the delicate modeling of her wrist, -and smiled appreciatively. “When you are better, my father will see you,” -continued the girl. “He will reward you, and—” With her usual quick -intuition she noticed the shade of annoyance on his face. “That is,” she -went on rather slowly, “he will do what he can for you.” - -“Thank you,” said Loring, “but I think that in two or three weeks I shall -be able to work again.” - -“I am afraid if I let you talk any more, you won’t ever be able to work,” -interrupted the doctor. - -“I will come again to-morrow,” said Jean. “If there is anything that you -want, you must let us send it to you. Good-bye, and thank you!” Her -voice as she spoke had the quality of sympathy. - -He watched her for a moment as she stopped by the other cots, inquiring -in pretty broken Spanish for the welfare of the occupants. “Hang it,” he -thought, “I wish she would not look at that Mexican in just the way that -she looked at me!” With his eyes he followed her as long as he could, -then when the tents shut her from view, he closed his eyes and imagined -that she was still near. - -He picked up the flowers and buried his face in them. Their sweetness -brought up a wave of memories of the past, of things that he had thrown -away. He bit his lip hard and under his breath swore bitterly at himself. -Then the fragrance of the flowers soothed him, and he lay back on his -pillow thinking of the girl who had brought them. She seemed so strange -a figure in the life of Quentin, so aloof, so unrelated! He could not -adjust her to her setting. At last it occurred to him that it was not -necessary for him to adjust her—in fact that she and her setting were -none of his business. - -Then tired, with the flowers still crushed in his hand, he fell asleep to -the accompaniment of the monotonous pound of the smelter. He dreamed of -days gone by, yet through it all, vaguely, intangibly, there drifted a -girl, the tenderness of whose eyes was blended with the impersonality of -pity. - -As they walked together across the camp, Miss Cameron remarked to the -doctor: “It is strange how the rough life here seems to train men. He -seemed to be almost a gentleman.” - -Doctor Kline smiled in an amused fashion. - -“There’s a lot here, Miss Cameron, who seem ‘almost a gentleman,’ and -they are not the best kind, either. In fact they come pretty near to -being the worst. Arizona is not the graveyard of reputations. It’s the -hell that comes after that. Men drift here from every corner of the -world, and from every sort of life. The undercurrent here is full of -derelicts. Nobody questions about the past or the future here. They just -drift, and it is not so very long before most of them sink.” - -In the course of forty years of varied experience, Dr. Kline had never -made so long a speech. He stopped short, and, flushing, looked quickly at -Miss Cameron to see if she were laughing at him. Her serious expression -reassured him, and he looked at her again; only this time it was for the -purpose of admiration. - -They had reached the door of her father’s house. It was called a house -and not a shack, partly as a matter of etiquette, being the manager’s -dwelling, and partly because it had a porch. Also it possessed the added -grandeur of two small wings, which were joined to the one-story, central -building. - -Jean said good-bye to the doctor and went into the house. Her father was -busy at his desk with some large blue prints of the workings; but he -stopped when she entered. - -“How is the man getting along?” he asked. “I hope that the poor devil -isn’t laid up so that he can never swing a pick again.” - -“He is much better,” answered Jean, as she dropped into a big chair -beside her father’s desk, “but, Father, do these men do nothing else all -their lives beside swing picks?” - -Her father smiled, amused at the earnest manner. “Well, my dear, they are -likely to do so, unless they develop aptitude for ‘polishing’ the head -of a drill, as they say here. In other words, become miners, instead of -‘muckers,’ in which case they get their three dollars a day instead of -two. The difference in social position, however, which I suppose is what -you mean, is not very great.” - -“I thought that the West was a place where men rose fast from the ranks, -where the opportunities for success lay at each man’s feet,” said Jean -thoughtfully. - -“That is partially true,” replied her father; “but you must remember -steadiness is needed as much here as anywhere, and that is a quality -which most men, of a type such as I judge this Loring to be, have not. -Also to reach success here they have to swim through a river of whisky, -and most of them drown in transit.” - -Jean sat for a moment in silence, the sun playing tricks of light -and shade across the ripples of her hair and in the depths of her -level-gazing eyes. - -At length she exclaimed suddenly: “Why is it that they all drink?” - -“Why?” echoed her father. “I have been so occupied with the result that -I have had no time to consider the cause. The fact is—they have no -other form of relaxation here. Besides, when men work seven days a week -all the year round, after a while they reach a point where they must -do something to break the tedium, and drinking whisky is a convenient -method.” - -“Then why do you make them work on Sunday?” asked Jean. “Why not let them -rest on that day?” - -Her father laughed. “Well, it doesn’t sound logical after what I have -just said, but if they get Sunday to rest, they are all so drunk that we -have not enough men on Monday to start the mines. We tried it once. I -suppose that the only explanation of the way the men drink here is that -they do. I think it is a germ in the air.” - -Mr. Cameron turned again to his work. Jean sat silently beside him -watching the firm lines with which he traced new winzes, drifts, and -cross-cuts on the prints, the precision with which he wrote his comments -on the borders. - -It was a strong face which bent over the table, strong, stern, and -telling of a Scotch ancestry in which Mr. Cameron took great pride, for -had not one of his forefathers fought in the army of the Lord of the -Isles, and another been a faithful follower to the end of the hopeless -Stuart cause! - -Clearly loyalty was a tradition of their race, and typical of that -allegiance which still made all Scotch things dear to these two -descendants of the old Highlanders, which led the father to hang on the -bare walls of his cabin the shield of the Camerons with its armorial -bearings of “or, three bars gules,” and impelled Jean to wear a Scotch -cap, and always, somewhere about her dress, a touch of the red and blue -Cameron plaid. - -Now, as Jean stood at her father’s side, it was easy to see the family -likeness, for all the softening of age and sex, which had changed the -lines of his face to the curves of hers. The same spirit looked out from -both pairs of eyes, and if ever there should come a conflict of wills -between the two, there would be as pretty a fight as once happened at -Inverlochie, when Cameron and the Lord Protector fell foul of each other. - -Jean Cameron had been only a month in Quentin. She had begged to join -her father and he had consented, although he had assured her that she -would dislike the life. But from the first she had loved the place and -everything about it. The atmosphere of crude labor, the men thrusting -down into the mountains and drawing out the green-crusted ore, the rides -across the trails, had brought her a sense of exhilaration. - -She had expected to find in the West the romance of freedom, of wildness, -of the natural type. Instead, she had found, and it was infinitely more -fascinating, the romance of work, of risk borne daily as a matter of -course, not from love of danger, but because it meant bread. To a girl -of her keen perception there was a meaning in it all. It was the first -glimpse that she had ever had of a world where the little things of life -had no existence and where the big things were the little things. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - - -During his convalescence, Stephen had many callers. Mr. Cameron paid him -a short visit, and briskly and efficiently expressed his gratitude. At -least this was the way in which Loring characterized it to himself, after -his departure. From motives of kindness, most of the foremen and men from -the office force came in to see him; from motives of self-interest, the -visits were generally repeated, for Loring combined a drollness, a vein -of narrative, and a wide range of experiences. - -McKay was one of those who dropped in frequently to discuss the affairs -of the camp in short, jerky sentences, which alternated with the puffs -from his stubby black pipe. Stephen, by a great amount of reticence as -to his own personal affairs, had won McKay’s respect as a wise man. He -was by nature of an exuberant temperament; but experience had taught him -that taciturnity was the best way to acquire a reputation for solidity -in a community. About four years previous to this time, when he had -embarked in life in the West, the first man under whom he had worked had -commented upon his garrulous propensities rather caustically. His words: -“You don’t want to talk too much in this world, young feller; it ain’t -pleasant,” had been borne in upon Loring to the great improvement of his -character. McKay had once in the course of a discussion of different -men’s capabilities expressed the Western view very tersely. He had said: -“The wisest man I ever knew was a fellow in Nogales. I never heard him -open his mouth once!” - -Loring’s visitors, however, were not all of such a character. Every -morning Miss Cameron came into the hospital and greeted Stephen with -a gay smile that made pain seem a base currency with which to pay for -such happiness. He had come to look forward to the few minutes during -which she talked to him as the oasis of his day. As time went on, his -thoughts of her grew more absorbing. A man when convalescent can, with -the greatest of ease, fall in love with an abstract ideal, so that when a -very charming concrete example was near, the process of dreaming speedily -crystallized to a point where Stephen found himself very much in love. -For many hours after one of her visits he lay staring at the ceiling, -trying to find some adjective by which to describe her. Failing in his -direct search, he fell back on the method of question and answer. Was she -beautiful? he asked himself. It was many years since he had seen women of -her class, and it was hard for him to find a comparative standard. He was -certain that she was a joy to look upon. Had she sympathy? Her kindness -to the sick Mexicans in the hospital was a ready answer to that question. -Was she feminine? She had a quality of comradeship and companionship -combined, which previously he had only associated with men. Yet back of -it was a latent coquetry, and unconsciously it piqued him to feel that -towards him there was no trace of it. Strive as he would, he could find -no word which could fit all the opposing sides of her character, her -aloof frankness, her subtle force. - -“Fall-in-love-withable-ness,” he reflected, “is not a recognized word, -and yet it is the one that describes her.” - -At last came the days when with effort at first, then with ease, he could -stroll from shack to shack about the camp. He often spent his time -in the assay office, watching the assayer tend the delicate balances, -or precipitate the metal from the various shades of blue liquid which -stood on the ledge by the window in neat rows of test-tubes. Then there -was the _tienda_, where, sitting on a box in the corner, he could watch -the Mexicans as they crowded up to the bookkeeper’s window, loudly -calling out their numbers, and asking for coupons. The air in the store -was always thick with the smell of “_Ricorte_” or “_Pedro_” tobacco. -There were also in the glass cases gaudy tinfoil-wrapped cigars, “_Dos -Nationes_,” which the more lavish and wealthy purchased, and which added -a slightly more expensive hue to the smoky atmosphere. Often, too, he -would loaf about the draughting-room, where at first he amused himself by -drawing exceedingly impressionistic sketches on the bits of paper that -were scattered about. - -Stephen possessed that rare quality of being able to loaf without being -in the way. His loafing added a pleasant background to work that others -were doing, instead of being an irritant. Gradually he came to helping -Duncan, the surveyor, to check up his figures, and, much to the latter’s -surprise, in speedy fashion worked out logarithms for him. Loring as -a subordinate always did so well that it made his incompetency, when -given responsibility, doubly disappointing. Duncan, whose mathematical -methods were, though no doubt safer, far slower, grew to have an -excessive opinion of Loring’s ability, and expressed it about the camp. -He often questioned Stephen as to where he had acquired his knowledge of -logarithms; but Loring always told him that he had merely picked it up at -a way station on the journey of life. As curiosity about others rarely -goes deep in Arizona, the subject had been finally taken for granted, and -dropped. - -One day while Stephen was working with Duncan, Mr. Cameron entered the -room, and said abruptly: “Well, Loring, are you about ready for work?” - -“Yes,” said Stephen, “I was going to work for Mr. McKay again to-morrow.” - -Mr. Cameron paused for a moment, and looked him over carefully. He -noticed the clear light of the eyes, and he was pleased. He noticed the -indecisive lines at the corners of the mouth, hesitated, and almost -imperceptibly shook his head. Years of experience had taught him to read -men’s faces well. This was the first which he had ever liked, and yet not -quite trusted. The combination of feeling puzzled him. - -Loring had begun to flush a trifle under the sharp scrutiny, before Mr. -Cameron again spoke. - -“I was thinking of giving you a position on the hoist. The man on Number -Three is going to quit to-morrow.” Mr. Cameron said “quit,” with a little -snap of the jaw, that left no doubt as to why the man was going to leave. -“Do you know anything about the work?” he went on. - -Loring’s “No, but I think perhaps I can learn,” seemed to irritate Mr. -Cameron, who exclaimed: “Good Lord, man! ‘think perhaps you may be able -to learn.’ ‘Think perhaps!’ Here you are going to have men’s lives in -your hands. It is no place for a man who thinks ‘perhaps.’ Still I will -try you. You will receive three dollars and a half for eight hours, and -overtime, extra. At that the work is not hard. You can go up to the shaft -now. Colson, the man whom you are going to try to replace, is on shift, -and he will teach you what he can. You go on the pay-roll to-morrow.” -Cutting short Stephen’s thanks, Mr. Cameron abruptly left the office. - -Duncan began to chuckle quietly. - -“It is damned lucky for you, Loring, that you didn’t go on much further -with your theories of ‘thinking perhaps.’ I don’t know where you were -before you came here, and I don’t care; but here it will help you some to -remember that it is only what you _do_ know or _can_ do that counts.” - -Stephen took cheerfully this good advice, and after securing his hat, -he stretched himself comfortably in the doorway, then started up the -hill to the mine. In the hot glare he climbed the tramway which led -from the hungry ore cribs by the smelter to Number Three hoist. He was -still weak, and the climb tired him considerably. Several times, in the -course of the few hundred yards, he stopped and rested. As many times -more he was compelled to step to one side of the track in order to let -the funny, squat, little ore cars whiz by him, the brake cable behind -them stretching taut, and whining with the peculiar note of metal under -tension. When at last, tired and out of breath, he reached the hoist -box, Colson gave him a sour greeting. - -“Damned boiler leaks like a sieve. Have to keep stoking her all the time. -Engine is always getting centered. Wish you joy! It’s the worst job I -ever tackled.” - -In answer to Loring’s request for instructions, Colson slowly wiped his -hands on a bit of oily waste, and having taken a fresh chew of tobacco, -proceeded to explain the working of the drum hoist, and the signal code. - -For the rest of the afternoon, under Colson’s supervision, Stephen -managed the clutch that governed the cable, and at the ever recurring -clang of one bell, ran the ore buckets with great speed up the shaft. -Whenever the signal of three bells, followed by one, rang out, he brought -the buckets slowly and decorously to the surface, for that told of a -human load. Loring, in spite of apparent clumsiness, possessed a great -amount of deftness, and he was soon running the hoist fairly well, -although the jerks with which the engine was brought to a standstill told -the miners that a new and inexperienced hand was at the clutch. - -At half-past three the men of the shift began to signal to come to the -surface. Loring asked Colson how, when the shift did not end till four, -this was allowed. Colson explained that as the mine was non-Union, and -employed mostly Mexican labor, the piece work system was in use. When -the men had filled a certain number of buckets, they could come to the -surface regardless of the time. The result had been that more work was -accomplished than formerly, while the miners had shorter hours. - -“That is all very pleasant,” reflected Stephen, “if the company, having -seen how active the men can be, does not increase the number of buckets -required.” - -Shortly before four o’clock they were relieved by the engineer for the -next shift, who undertook the task of lowering the waiting men. Then -Colson and Loring, picking up their coats, walked slowly down the hill -into the camp. At the smelter Loring parted with Colson and walked over -to his own quarters. Since his dismissal from the hospital, he had been -sharing a tent with one of the shift bosses—a man about whom Stephen knew -little except the fact that he was named Lynn, and that he never washed. -The company rented tents with board floors, for two dollars a month, so -that when the quarters were shared, household expenses were not large. - -As Loring threw back the wire-screened door of the tent, Lynn, from -within, greeted him with mild interest. - -“I hear they are goin’ to try you on Number Three. Now over where I used -to work in Black Eagle, they wouldn’t let a green man even smell the -hoist. It ain’t safe, nor legal. But I suppose the Boss had to give you -_some_ job. All wrong, though.” - -Loring kept discreet silence in answer to this, and after fetching a -bucket of water, proceeded to wash with many splashes. This annoyed Lynn, -who grunted: “How can a man do any work with you wallowin’ round like a -herd of steers?” Then he returned to his previous occupation of poring -over location papers for some claims of his “up yonder.” These claims -were the joke of the camp, on account of their remoteness from any known -ore vein, yet Lynn, unaffected by the waves of exultation or depression -which from time to time swept through the camp, year by year persisted in -doggedly doing his assessment work. - -In Arizona almost every man, no matter what his occupation or station, -has “some claims up in the hills.” These claims furnish the romance -of his life, for always beneath the grimmest present lies the golden -“perhaps” of a rich strike. - -Stephen sat on the edge of his cot, rolling a cigarette and watching -Lynn’s profile. - -“There are some people,” he meditated, “who would not look cheerful if -they were paid so much a smile.” When Lynn had finished his papers, he -rose with solemn deliberative slowness, took down a black felt hat from a -wooden peg on the tent pole, transferred his toothpick from the left side -of his mouth to the right, and slouched towards the door. - -“Come on over to grub!” he called back. Loring joined him, and together -they walked over to the company mess. - -As they picked their way along the sordid road, Stephen looked at the -dirty houses of the Mexicans with a feeling of repulsion. They were built -from all the refuse that could be gathered: old sheet iron, quilts, -suwara rods, a few boards, broken pieces of glass and tarred paper. -A broken-down wagon, on one wheel, lurching in a dissipated fashion -against a boulder, added to the disreputability of the tin-can-strewn -road. While he and Lynn were plodding moodily along, Stephen suddenly -heard behind him the clatter of horses’ hoofs. He turned. The scene no -longer seemed sordid, for riding up the road was Miss Cameron. Around her -rode five or six little girls,—the camp children,—their legs, too short -to reach the stirrups, stuck in the leathers, their hair flying in all -directions, while their stiff little gingham dresses fluttered in the -breeze. Jean, riding a gray pony, sat clean limbed and lithe across the -saddle. The deep full modeling of breast and thigh, the proud carriage -of the shoulders, and the easy swing of her body to the lope of the -horse—all bespoke high health and keen enjoyment. Her khaki skirt fell on -either side in yellow folds against the oiled brown of the saddle. She -wore no hat, and the sunlight struck clear and sparkling upon her tawny -hair. Her color was fresh from the sting of the wind. - -Stephen stepped aside to let the little cavalcade pass; but Miss Cameron -reined in her pony, and smilingly greeted him and his companion. Her -convoy of little girls bade her a grateful “good-bye,” and scattered to -their homes in the various parts of the camp. - -“You seem to be a ‘Pied Piper of Hamelin,’” remarked Stephen, looking up -at her. Lynn for some reason appeared uneasy. - -“No, I don’t decoy them,” she answered. “In fact, I try hard to get away -from them, but they are not allowed to ride alone in the valley, and -consequently whenever they see my pony saddled they swarm about me like -bees and cannot be shaken off. Are you sure that you are strong enough to -be out of the hospital?” Miss Cameron added, scrutinizing Stephen with -friendly solicitude. - -Loring was busying himself with the problem of whether her eyes were -really gray or blue. He gathered his wits together however to answer that -he was growing better steadily. - -“Well, good night, and be sure to continue to get better!” The girl shook -the reins of her pony, and galloped off towards the corral. - -Lynn could no longer contain himself. - -“Look a-here, Loring. I don’t know where you was brought up, but Miss -Cameron is a lady, if ever I seed one, and whar I come from, gentlemen -don’t call ladies ‘Pi-eyed Pipers.’” - -Stephen, with a start, came out of his wistful mood, then almost -collapsed with laughter. Lynn stalked along in silent wrath, not speaking -another word until they entered the mess room. - -It was half-past five, and the room was still crowded, though that many -had come and gone was attested by the pools of coffee on the zinc tables, -the bread crumbs on the floor, and the great piles of dirty dishes. In a -mining camp five o’clock is the fashionable supper hour, and he who comes -late has cause to rue it. Loring and his companion cleared places for -themselves, and after the necessary preliminaries of wiping their cracked -plates on their sleeves, and obtaining their share from the great bowl of -stew in the center of the table, they proceeded to eat in businesslike -silence. There had been a time when such surroundings would have taken -away Stephen’s appetite, but that was far away. The proprietor walked -frequently up and down the room, answering mildly the contumely heaped -upon the food. He carried a large bucket from which he replenished the -coffee cups. Stephen quickly reached the dessert stage of the meal, and -the proprietor set that course before him. It consisted of two very -shiny canned peaches, floating in a dubious juice. - -The man who owned the eating house was of a quiet, depressed nature -developed by years of endeavor to please boarders’ appetites at one -dollar a day and make a profit of seventy-five cents. Ordinarily dessert -consisted of one canned peach. Loring’s double allowance was a silent -tribute to the fact that he did not rail at the food as did the others, -and to the fact that once, when the purveyor had “spread himself” and -served canned oysters, Stephen had thanked him. This had been the third -time that the man had been thanked in all his life, and he stowed it away -in his strange placid brain. - -When Stephen had finished his meal, he rose and joined the group of -men, who, as customary after supper, were lounging on the steps. The -proprietor, wearing his usual apologetic smile, soon joined them. - -“Pretty good supper, boys?” he remarked tentatively. - -Some one in the crowd moaned drearily. “Say, I know what good food -is. I used to eat up at the Needles, at a place so swell they give -Mexicans pie. Reg’lar sort of Harvey house, that was.” The proprietor, -still smiling, sadly withdrew, and the crowd returned to its former -occupations: commenting on the thin ponies of the Mexicans who galloped -by, and trying to catch the eyes of the señoritas as they strolled past, -arm in arm, seemingly stolid alike to the attentions and to the jests of -the men. - -Many of the Indians, who had been brought from the San Carlos Reservation -to work on the railway grade, were in camp to make their simple purchases -of supplies. Stephen noticed with disgust the way the braves sat astride -their ponies with indolent grace, while beside them walked the squaws, -with the papooses slung in blankets over their shoulders. - -“Good example of the ‘noble redman,’ isn’t it!” he exclaimed to McKay. - -“Well, what can you expect?” chuckled the latter. “You know in their -marriage ceremony the brave puts the bit of his pony in the mouth of his -prospective bride. Sort of a symbol of equality and companionship between -man and wife, I reckon.” - -As the twilight turned to dusk, the group gradually dissolved, till -Loring alone was left on the steps. It was peaceful there, and as he -drew on his old black pipe, a healthy feeling of contentment permeated -him. He felt that he could do his new work well. His last lessons, he -thought, had taught him concentration. He saw himself working up again -to a position of power. For some reason that even to himself was only -vaguely defined, he felt that now it was all infinitely worth while. As -for drink, he merely thought of it as an episode of the past. Stephen’s -worst fault lay in not grappling with his enemies until they had him by -the throat. As he sat smoking and dreaming, he was aroused by a cheerful -salutation. - -“Howdy, me bludder? Me bludder, he feel fine?” - -Stephen looked up to see Hop Wah standing in the road before him. With -his derby hat, yellow face, coal black pig-tail, and with a five-cent -cigar drooping from one corner of his mouth Wah was a strange combination -of Occident and Orient. - -“Fine, thanks!” answered Loring, “but what are you doing up here in camp -now, Wah?” - -Wah proudly puffed at his cigar, and blew a wreath of gray smoke from -between his flat lips. - -“Me cook for the company here, now. Makee pie ebbrey day. Oh, lubbly, -lubbly pie! Me bludder come to back door, and I give him some. Oh, -lubbly, lubbly pie! Goodee bye. Goodee bye, me bludder!” Then Wah -departed in the direction of the _tienda_, marching cheerfully along to -his old refrain: “La, la, boom, boom; la, la, boom, boom.” - -“The crazy Chinaman!” laughed Stephen. “He certainly enjoys life, -though.” Loring rose and knocked out the ashes of his pipe on the steps. -Then he walked towards his tent. They were just dumping the slag from -the smelter, and he watched the glowing slag pot shoot along the track -in front of him. As if by magic it checked at the end of the heap, and -poured its molten, flashing stream far over the embankment. The whole -camp glowed with a clear, all-suffusing orange light. The outline of the -surrounding mountains loomed out blue-black. The glow faded to dull red, -then dwindled to a mere thread of light, then disappeared, and all was -dark again. - -During the next two months, with a concentration of which he had never -before thought himself capable, Stephen slaved at learning his task. To -feel that in his hands lay the lives of the sixteen men of the shift -gave him a sense of responsibility, which in all his former work had been -completely lacking. He was so faithful in the performance of his duties -that even the critical Mr. Cameron was secretly pleased, while Jean -watched with growing interest her father’s experiment, and felt that at -last Loring had ceased to drift. - -Stephen, on his part, carried in his heart one memory which shortened -his working day, gladdened his leisure hours, and left no time for vain -regrets. This was the thought of one evening which he had spent at Mr. -Cameron’s house, on the occasion of a “Gringo” dance, whereto all the -workers in camp, except the Mexicans, had been bidden, in celebration of -Washington’s birthday. - -Often did Stephen recall the flag-draped room, the Mexican orchestra, -which in color resembled a slice of strawberry, vanilla, and chocolate -ice-cream. He remembered the lantern-lighted porch, its lamps blending -with the soft darkness of the southern night, hung with its own lanterns -of stars. - -But all these were only a background of his real memories, which were -the warm touch of Jean’s hand, as he had held it in the dance for five -blessed minutes, and the sound of her voice as she had talked with him on -the porch, in the brief intervals when the guests had gathered around the -musicians, to invoke the “Star Spangled Banner” and urge that long might -it “Wa-a-ave!” - -What they had talked about Stephen scarcely knew; but he had a confused -impression that under the commonplaces of their talk had lurked, on her -part, a hint of friendship which made his dreams perhaps not quite so -wild, for he recognized in her something softly invincible which once -having given friendship would never withdraw it, though the skies fell. -In fact, while Loring was playing cards over the mess table one evening, -Jean was putting her friendship to the proof in another quarter of the -camp. - -“Father, he is a gentleman.” Jean made this remark after a period -of silence, during which she had sat on the porch of the shack, -contemplating the moon as it rode high in the unclouded sky. - -“Who is a gentleman? The man in the moon?” As he asked the question, -Mr. Cameron withdrew his cigar from his mouth, and pulled the smoke in -leisurely rings into the air. - -“No,” Jean answered, “not the man in the moon; the man on the hoist, -Stephen Loring.” - -“What made you think of him?” - -“I met him this afternoon in the valley. That put him into my head.” - -“Well, I advise you to take him out again.” - -“Not at all. I shall keep him there. He interests me, because he is a -gentleman.” - -“What are the hall-marks of a gentleman?” - -“Oh,” said Jean slowly, “there are a hundred little signs which cannot be -suppressed. A deacon may turn into a horse thief, or a millionaire into -a beggar; but once a gentleman, always a gentleman. Mr. Loring tries to -hide it; but he cannot. Oh, haven’t you noticed the difference?” - -“Between Loring and the other men? No, I cannot say that I have. But I am -not particularly interested in the question whether my hoist engineers -are gentlemen.” - -“Don’t you think you ought to be?” - -“Why?” - -Jean clasped her hands around her knee and looked out over the dim hills -bathed in the mist of the moonlight. After a while she said: “It must be -very lonely for a gentleman in a camp like this.” - -“If you are thinking of Loring,” said her father, “he is busy all day and -he can go to the mess in the evening.” - -“The mess!” exclaimed Jean scornfully. “Yes, fine place for a gentleman, -where the men chew tobacco and drink whisky all the evening, and tell -stories as long as they are broad!” - -“All terribly offensive no doubt to a sensitive soul like your Mr. -Loring,” answered Mr. Cameron. “Perhaps,” he added with fine sarcasm, -“you would like to have him take his meals with us.” - -“Yes, I would like to ask him here sometime. It is good in you to think -of it,” replied his daughter calmly. - -“It cannot be done, Jean. It cannot be done,” Mr. Cameron said with -decision. “Discrimination among the men breeds discontent. I think that -we have done full enough for Loring as it is.” - -“Do you?” Jean responded, with the audacity of a hot temper. “Well, I do -not; but then it was my life that he saved, and perhaps that makes me see -the thing differently. I am thinking that when a man saves your life you -cannot get rid of the obligation by throwing him a job, as you might toss -a bone to a dog. I am thinking that he has some claim on the life that he -has given back, and that the other person should spend a little of it in -doing something for him.” - -“And, pray, what has his being a gentleman to do with all this?” asked -Mr. Cameron, whose wrath took the form of sarcasm. “Suppose that Colson -or Lynn had saved your life, would you have wished to have him at the -house?” - -“Neither of them would have wished to come.” - -“That is not honest, Jean. You know that they would; but you would never -ask them, except to one of your camp dances. You would not if they had -saved your life twenty times.” - -“I should try to do something for them, something that they would like; -but if people are not of your kind there is no use in inviting them. -There is no kindness in it in the end.” - -“Perhaps,” said her father, “there would prove to be no kindness in the -end in what you wish to do for Loring.” - -“Very well. There is no use in arguing with a Scotchman; but I warn -you that I shall make it up to him in friendliness. The other men can -scarcely object to that.” - -With these words Jean rose from the steps and, passing through the door, -entered the little living-room where she picked up a guitar from the -window-seat, and to its accompaniment began to sing in a low voice. What -was the song she chose? Why, it was “Jock o’ Hazeldean.” If ever a song -expressed flat mutiny it is that one, and it lost nothing in expression -from Jean Cameron’s rendering, from the beginning where the heroine -refuses to be commanded or cajoled, to the last line where “She’s o’er -the border and awa’ wi’ Jock o’ Hazeldean.” - -Mr. Cameron was justified in being angry; but who could resist a voice -like Jean Cameron’s? Evidently not Jean’s father, for when the girl -came out again and smiling laid her hand upon his shoulder, Mr. Cameron -relaxed the grimness of his expression. - -“Well, well, lassie, we will see what can be done for your gentleman -engineer,” he said encouragingly; “but don’t be ‘o’er the border and -awa’’ with Jock, till we know a little more about him, and about what is -thought of him in Hazeldean.” - - - - -CHAPTER V - - -“Oh, Loring. Have you heard the news?” Stephen, on his way to breakfast, -on the morning of the Fourth of July, stopped until McKay joined him. - -“No. What is the matter?” - -“There is to be a half holiday to-day,” went on McKay. - -“The devil there is! I did not know that such things existed this side of -heaven.” - -“In which case you would never see one,” laughed McKay. “But to-day there -is to be one. In my opinion, we owe it to Miss Cameron’s influence with -her father. Every one can knock off work at twelve o’clock. Look at the -notice!” - -On the office wall, beneath the usual “_No Entrada—Oficina_,” was a big -placard which conveyed the news in English and Spanish. Stephen read it -with satisfaction. - -“I think that will make breakfast taste rather well. What is your -opinion, Mac?” - -“That comes pretty close to my jedgments,” answered McKay. “Hey, Wah, -you crazy Chinaman; quit hammering that gong!” - -This last was addressed to Hop Wah, who was standing on the porch of the -eating house, hammering with a railroad spike upon an iron gong. - -“Me hab to. Else me lazy pig bludders allee late. La, la, boom, boom! -Breakfas’. Nice hot cakes. Oh, lubbly, lubbly cakes; eggs this mornin’. -Goodee canned eggs. Oh, lubbly; la, la”—Wah fled precipitately into the -kitchen, as Loring and McKay made gestures of killing him. - -They were the first at the mess, and while the sleepy stragglers filed -in, one by one, they ate their oatmeal in comfort. They took a lazy -pleasure in watching the surprise, and listening to the ejaculations, -with which the news of the half holiday was received. “Thin Jim,” who -always presided at the head of the table, on account of his so-called -“boarding house arm,” which enabled him to be of vast service as a -waiter, professed to be so astounded at the news as to be incapable of -performing his duties. - -“What with a dance on Washington’s birthday, and a half holiday to-day, -why, we’re becomin’ sort of a leisure class,” he remarked. - -“Well, look out that you don’t deteriorate under the strain,” laughed -Loring. “Has any one a match?” The only real system in all Loring’s -habits of life was his custom of rising early enough to have time for a -smoke between breakfast and work. - -In the afternoon the camp was alive with shouts and hilarity. On the slag -dump two baseball games were in progress, of such excitement that the -umpires had early withdrawn; while some one had established in the gulch -an impromptu shooting gallery, whence the quick rattle of reports told of -financial success. - -Stephen sat with Duncan on the steps of the assay office while the latter -checked up his figures for the morning’s work. - -“The ore from Number Three is running six per cent these days,” he -exclaimed, as he tossed his note-book into the office. - -Together they watched the trail leading out from the camp, down which -rode little groups of horsemen, lounging in the saddle. The smoke from -their cigarettes trailed thinly blue behind them. - -“There goes domesticity for you, Steve!” said Duncan. He pointed to a -family group riding by. Old Tom Jenkins, the smelter boss, with his -wife, was starting for a trip to the river. Three children were strung in -various attitudes across their saddles. - -“It seems as if every one were going for a ride,” commented Stephen. -“Shall we fall in line with the popular amusement?” - -“I haven’t got a horse,” answered Duncan, “and all the company _caballos_ -will be out to-day. I heard old Hodges down at the corral after lunch -cursing like a pirate at the amount of saddling that he had to do. Right -in the midst of his growling, Miss Cameron came along, and wanted a -horse. The old man pretty nearly fell over himself trying to accommodate -her. There’s something about her that seems to affect people that way. -Quite a convenient trait, I should think!” - -Stephen agreed silently, and in his mind added considerably more, then -strode off to the corral for his pony. - -As he slung the saddle across his horse’s back and cinched the girth, he -fumbled a little, for his mind was not upon the task, but upon a certain -curl, which defying combs or hairpins, waved capriciously at the turn of -a girl’s neck. - -Horses, however, have little sympathy with sentiment, and while -Loring tugged absent-mindedly at the straps, the little beast puffed -and squealed, trying to arrange for a comfortable space between his -round, gray belly and the girth. Stephen, placing his left hand on the -head-piece, and his right on the pommel, swung himself into the saddle, -in spite of the pony’s antics. Soon he was loping out of camp, and down -towards the river. The clear sunshine struck his neck beneath his broad -hat; the alkali dust tasted smoky and almost invigorating. - -As he left the camp behind him, he laughed and sang softly to himself, -beating with his unspurred heel the time of his song against his pony’s -ribs. He blessed the extravagance which had led him to invest half a -month’s pay in “_Muy Bueno_,” as the horse was christened to indicate -the owner’s assurance that he was “very fine.” Leaning forward, Loring -playfully pulled “_Muy Bueno’s_” ears. The pony shook its head in -annoyance. This was no holiday for him. - -After a short distance the ground began to rise, and the pony, with -lowered head, buckled to his task, resolutely attacking the trail which -zig-zagged up the steep mountainside. - -Half way up the rise stood a saloon. As Loring approached it, he heard -roars of laughter. In it there was that quality which only liquor can -produce. As he drew nearer he could see the reason for the laughter. -Before the saloon was a girl on horseback, her pony balking, and flatly -refusing to proceed. The doorway was full of half drunken miners, calling -out advice of varied import. The saloon keeper, himself a bit flushed, -called out: “She’s got Tennessee Bob’s old pony. He never would go by -here without taking a drink, and I reckon the horse sort of inherited the -habit.” - -Stephen took in the situation at once. Riding up quickly, he cut the -stubborn pony across the flank with his quirt. The animal quivered for a -moment, then as another stinging blow fell, galloped on up the trail. - -“Hell, Loring! what you want to do a thing like that for? Funniest thing -I’ve seen in a month,” growled a man in the crowd. - -Stephen only waved his hand in answer and rode on after the girl, whom -he had no difficulty in recognizing. A couple of hundred yards of hard -riding brought him up with her. - -Jean’s cheeks were still crimson, but it was as much from laughter as -embarrassment. - -“Really, Mr. Loring,” she exclaimed, half breathlessly, “you seem to be -always in the position of a rescuer.” - -“Your horses do seem to have a taste for adventure,” he replied. “Perhaps -I may be allowed to accompany you on your ride this afternoon,” continued -Stephen. “There might, you know, be other saloons which your pony was in -the habit of visiting.” - -“I think it would be safer,” assented Jean. - -They were nearing the crest of the hill, and the trail broadened so that -they could ride abreast. A bevy of quail flushed suddenly up from the -ground, strumming the air sharply. A little further on, a jack-rabbit -jumped into the center of the trail, looked about, then dove into the -underbrush. To a mind in its normal condition, these things were but -commonplaces. To Stephen it seemed as if all nature were in an exuberant -mood. The very creak of the leather, or ring of steel, as now and then -one of the horses’ hoofs struck on stone, fell in with the tenor of his -spirits. There are few men who could ride over the Arizona hills with -Jean Cameron and doubt the gloriousness of existence. - -At the summit they drew rein to breathe the horses. Before them lay the -valley of the “Dripping Spring Wash.” For miles the belt of white sand -in the bottom stretched away darkened with clumps of drab sage-brush, -or with tall wavy lines which they knew must be cactus. Whiter than the -sand, far out in the valley, a tent gleamed. Here and there a few moving -specks betokened range cattle. Framing it all were great mountains, as -irregular and barren as floe ice,—blue, purple, and brown, with streaks -of yellow where the hot rays of the sun struck upon bare earth. All the -detail of the rocky contour showed in the clear air. The mountains at -the end of the valley, forty miles away, seemed as distinct as if within -a mile. In silence the riders sat their horses, looking straight before -them. - -“I never knew how big life could be until I saw Arizona,” exclaimed Jean. - -“I never knew how big life could be until—” - -“Until what, Mr. Loring?” - -Loring’s answer was to guide the horses into the trail that led down to -the Wash. - -In a short while they reached the bottom, and rode out into the valley, -where wandering “mavericks,” or faggot-laden burros had pounded -innumerable hard paths. - -Jean shook the bridle of her horse, and calling back over her shoulder, -“Shall we run them?” was off in a flash. Stephen, urging on his pony, -soon caught up with her, and side by side they galloped hard up the -valley. Leaning forward in his saddle, he could watch the rich color rush -across the girl’s face, as the speed set her blood dancing. Her head -was tossed backward, throwing out the clean molded chin, and perhaps -emphasizing the hint of obstinacy concealed in its rounded finish. Her -bridle hand lay close on the horse’s neck, the small gloved fingers -crushing the reins. From the amount of attention that Loring was, or -rather was not, paying to his horse, he richly deserved a fall; but the -fates spared him. Perhaps they, too, were engaged in watching the girl. - -With a sigh, Jean pulled her horse down to walk. - -“That was splendid! Why can’t one always be riding like that?” - -Loring looked at her, amused by the exuberance of her spirits. - -“A bit hard on the horses as a perpetual thing, otherwise perfect,” he -answered. - -She turned to him suddenly. “Have you no enthusiasms?” - -“I used to have,” answered Stephen, “but they were not of exactly the -right kind. In fact they made me what I am.” - -“What are you?” she asked, looking at him directly. - -“A failure—and rather worse, because I am a poor failure. There is just -enough left in me to make me realize the truth, but not enough to compel -me to do anything about it.” - -Jean thought for a minute, then, with sincere pity in her face, she -asked, “Why?” - -Stephen had resolved never to speak of his past, of the golden -opportunities lost, of the friends who would have helped if they could; -but as he looked at her, at the slightly parted lips, at the frank -sympathy that shone from her face, he knew that here was some one who -could understand and perhaps help. - -Slowly at first, controlling the breaks in his voice, then more evenly, -he told her of start after start, of the relatives who had disowned him, -of drifting and drifting. “Now, here I am, running a hoist! Well, it is -probably the best thing of which I am capable and I owe it to you and -your father that I have so good a place. I have been tried and found -wanting in almost every way the Lord could invent, and,” he tried rather -unsuccessfully to smile, “I think I am down and out.” - -Jean reached out her hand to him, and pressed his warmly, with the proud -confidence of not being misunderstood. - -“Mr. Loring, I do not believe it. You may have been and done all that you -say, but you have still the battle ahead of you. I owe my life to you. -You risked yours to save me. I will not let you go on throwing yourself -away, without trying to help you. I thank you for what you have told me. -I think that I understand. It is hard perhaps for a girl to realize the -truth; but I do so want to help you! Here in Arizona you have a fresh -chance. Go on and win—and never forget that I am going to stand by you.” - -Stephen set his teeth and looked straight ahead of him. Every nerve -within him tingled with the desire to bow his head over the small hand -that lay on his, to crave, he knew not what. Then he lifted his head and -looked at her. “I will try—and God bless you!” - -So absorbed had the man and girl been in their talk, that they had -failed to realize that the soft, swift night of Arizona was overtaking -them. Clouds too were gathering in the west and obscuring the sunset -before its time. Jean noticed it at length and took alarm. - -“We must turn and ride fast,” she said hastily. “My father will be -worried if we are late. I think I remember this path which cuts into the -trail again farther on and is a shorter way. Let us take it!” - -Without waiting for Loring’s assent, she dashed off to the left. Stephen -followed her with some misgiving. He had known too much of the devious -windings of these half-beaten paths and would have chosen the longer way -around in confidence of its proving the shorter way home. - -On and on they rode in the gathering darkness till at length they could -scarcely see a yard ahead of them, and were forced to drop the reins on -the necks of the ponies, realizing that in such a situation instinct is -a far safer guide than reason. Loring took the lead, and rode slowly and -cautiously, peering about him in the vain hope of discovering the right -way. At length his pony balked suddenly and threw back its ears. “Stop!” -Stephen called back, as he slipped hastily from the saddle and took a -step forward to investigate the cause of “_Muy Bueno’s_” fright. One step -was enough, for it showed him that the ground dropped off into space at -his very feet. “Whew!” he whistled softly to himself. Then aloud he said: -“I am afraid, Miss Cameron, that you must dismount. Wait and let me help -you!” But before he could reach her the girl was out of her saddle and at -his side. She saw their danger and paled at its nearness. Then she said -quietly: “Of course it is my fault; but we need not talk about that now. -The question is, what are we going to do?” - -“The only thing we can do is to grope our way back by the way we have -come, and hope by good luck to reach the main trail again. If the moon -would only come up, we might at least get our bearings,” said Loring. - -“We ought to be somewhere near the Bingham mine,” Jean reflected aloud. -“Mr. Bingham is a friend of my father’s and we have ridden over to supper -in his camp once or twice. But I don’t know—I have lost all faith in my -skill as a pilot.” - -Loring took hold of the bridles and turned the ponies. Then mounting, -they rode into the darkness, where a slight thread of openness seemed -to show their path. Time and time again the horses, sure-footed as they -were, stumbled and went down on their knees, only to pick themselves up -with a shake and a plunge. Wandering cattle had beaten so many blind -paths through the chaparral or between the rocks that the riders were -often forced to stop and retrace their way, searching for new openings. -Stephen was afraid. It was a new sensation for him to have any dread -of the uncertain; but every time that Miss Cameron’s horse slipped or -hesitated he turned nervously in the saddle on the lookout for some -accident to her. His was a nature which danger elated, but responsibility -depressed. Had he been alone he would have rejoiced in the stubbornness -of the way, in the rasp of the cactus as his boots scratched against -it, in the uncertain sliding and the quick checking of his horse; but -now they worried him, so intent was he on the safety of the girl with -him. He knew that only good fortune could find their way for them before -sunrise and he prayed for good fortune in a way that made up for his past -unbelief in such a thing. - -Jean’s cheerfulness and acceptance of conditions only made it harder for -him, as, with every sense alert, he led the way towards what he hoped was -their goal. - -And fear was not the only emotion that struck at his heart. Mingled with -his anxiety was a rushing glow of happiness, of fierce exultation such as -he had never experienced in his life. The fact that under his care, alone -in the Arizona night, was the girl whom he loved, thrilled and shook -him. The soft note of confidence in her voice, her unconscious appeal to -him for protection, made the stinging blood rush to his face, made him -crush the bridle in a grip as of a vise. “Alone!” he murmured. “Is there -in God’s world any such aloneness as two together when the world is a -countless distance away, when each second is precious as a lifetime!” His -voice, when he spoke to her, sounded to him dry and forced. It was only -by superhuman control that when he guided her horse to the right or left -he did not cry out his need of her. Yet through all the electric silence -he knew that he had no right to speak of love, no right even to love -her. His mood was of that intensity which cares not for its reaction on -others. Through it all he did not think or imagine that she could care; -and yet he was happy, happy with that joy of a great emotion so sweeping -as not to know pain from pleasure and not to care. For the first time in -his life he realized what it was to live, not to think or to care, but to -_live_. - -And she? She could not have been a woman and not have known, even though -the imprisoned words had not escaped; but from knowing to caring is a -very long road, and not only has it many turnings, but often it doubles -upon itself. - -After an hour of this blind riding, they suddenly found themselves -following a well-beaten track. A tip of bright gold appeared from behind -the black mountains, then a crescent, then a semicircle, and almost -before they realized it the trail was flooded with the splendor of the -full-rounded moon. As they watched, they were startled by the soft thud -of a horse’s hoofs behind them. Stephen, a bit uneasy as to the newcomer, -wheeled his horse sharply to meet him, and slipped his riding gauntlet -from his right hand, prepared to shoot or to shake as the occasion might -necessitate. He was greatly surprised, when the stranger drew abreast of -them, to hear him exclaim in a cheerful bass voice: “Miss Cameron! How -did you come here?” - -“That is just what we want to know. The only thing we want to know more -is how to get out by any other way than past the cliff which we almost -rode over in the darkness. This is Mr. Loring, Mr. Bingham, one of the -hoist engineers at Quentin. Darkness overtook us while we were riding, -and I thought that I knew a short cut. I did not, it seems, and here we -are.” - -“Yes, and a mighty narrow escape you had if you were up by the divide -yonder. It drops off a good five hundred feet. Cleverness of your horses, -I suppose. Positively uncanny the instinct of those little beasts! Well, -as it happens, you have been riding only a few rods from the path which -you were looking for, only that winds around the divide, and not over it. -I am on my way to our camp just below here. You’ll stop to supper with -us, of course,” he added, as the lights of his camp suddenly twinkled -from behind a spur in the hills. - -“Not to-night, thank you,” Jean answered. “I am afraid that my father -will be worried as it is, and would soon be scouring the mountains for -us.” - -“It might look a little as if you’d run off together,” Mr. Bingham -chuckled with obtuse humor. Suddenly Jean, who had been all gratitude, -felt that she could, with great pleasure, see him go over the cliff -which they had avoided. She would have liked to reply to his remark with -something either jocular or haughty; but instead she was conscious of a -stiff, shy pause, broken by Loring’s query as to how the ore was running -in the Bingham mine. - -“Decidedly he is a gentleman,” reflected Jean, and then the scene of her -talk with her father flashed over her,—the porch, the living-room, the -guitar, the song “She’s o’er the border and awa’ wi’ Jock o’ Hazeldean.” - -Suddenly she laughed aloud. Both men turned in their saddles to see what -could have caused her sudden mirth. “Only an echo,” Jean explained. “It -sounded like a girl’s voice. It is gone now. Don’t stop!” - -Mr. Bingham seemed so grieved to have them pass the camp without -dismounting that Jean, realizing that a neglect of his proffered -hospitality would wound him unnecessarily, consented to take a cup of -coffee. Mrs. Bingham brought it to them with her own hands, talking -to them eagerly as they drank it. Mr. Bingham drew out his flask and -offered it to Stephen; but with a glance at Jean, he declined it and the -girl noted the sacrifice with satisfaction. - -The coffee finished, Jean and Loring bade a hasty farewell to their -hosts, who grieved over their parting with that true Western hospitality -born of the desolate hills, the long reaches of sparsely populated -country, and the loneliness of camp life. - -The horses were tired; but their riders had no notion of sparing them, -and rode as fast as the roughness of the trail permitted. Mr. Bingham’s -ill-timed words had jarred upon their companionship, and the horses’ -hoofs alone broke the silence which had fallen between them. - -It was eleven o’clock when they reached Quentin, and Mr. Cameron was -pacing the porch impatiently, peering out into the blackness where the -moonlight pierced it, as they rode up to the shack. - -“We are all safe, father; we merely took a wrong turning,” Jean called -aloud as they drew rein. - -“Yes,” observed Mr. Cameron with a stubborn ring in his voice. “I was -afraid that you had.” - -Jean perceived her father’s frame of mind instantly, and the Cameron in -her rose to meet the Cameron in him. - -“We have spent a very agreeable afternoon, however,” she said in clear, -determined tones; “at least I have, so I can scarcely regret our -adventure, though I am sorry to have caused you anxiety.” - -To Loring’s surprise, instead of slipping out of her saddle as she had -done before, she waited for him to lift her down. As he did so, she felt -his lips brush her sleeve. It was done after the fashion of a devotee, -not of a lover, yet the girl’s pulses bounded with a sense of elation and -power. She held a man’s soul in her hands. Yes, she knew now with a sense -of certainty what she had only suspected before,—that Loring loved her. -How she felt herself, how much response the man’s passion had power to -call out in her, she took no time to think; but she resolved to use this -new power for his good. It should be the beginning of better things than -he had ever known. Oh, yes, love could do anything. She had always heard -that. - -That night Loring, too, would have sworn that the turning point in his -life had come, that never again could he prove unworthy of the trust in -him which had shone from Jean Cameron’s eyes and pulsed in the strong -clasp of her hand. A woman’s faith had saved other men worse than he. Why -could he not surely rely upon its power to save him, too? - -One who knew him well might have answered: “Because you are both -too strong and too weak to be saved by anything from without. Your -regeneration, if it comes, will come from no such gentle approaches -and soft appeals, but through the stress and storm of deep experience, -through the struggle and agony of overwhelming remorse. So it must be -with some men.” - - - - -CHAPTER VI - - -From the time of their ride together, Jean’s thoughts were much more -occupied with Loring than they had been before. The consciousness of -her father’s opposition was an added stimulus, partly by reason of -her inherited obstinacy, and partly because she felt that Loring was -misunderstood, and all her loyalty was engaged in his behalf. She felt a -pride in having discovered what she thought were his possibilities, and -she was determined that the world should acknowledge them too. In the -face of Mr. Cameron’s disapproval she did not venture to ask Loring to -the house; but whenever they met in the camp or on the road she made a -point of stopping to talk with him and inquiring how things were going at -the hoist. - -It must be set down to Loring’s credit that none of these meetings were -of his planning, for as his love for her deepened, as it did day by -day, he felt more and more keenly the barriers which he himself had -raised between them. He felt how far wrong he had been in assuming that -his life had been wholly his own and that his failures could touch no -one but himself. He did not dare to construct the future, but clung to -the present with realization of its blessings. He felt a glow of pride -in Jean’s friendship for him, and a steady reliance on her faith in -him. Week after week went by and the fiber within him strengthened. The -belief in the worthwhileness of life came to him with a splendid rush of -conviction that was not to be denied. - -The depth of happiness is, unfortunately, however, no criterion of its -duration. One evening the stage, after depositing at the office its -load of mail and newcomers, lurched jerkily up the incline that led to -Mr. Cameron’s house, instead of being driven to the corral as usual. -Loring watched it and his spirits dropped like a barometer. An incident -may easily depress high spirits, though it takes an event to raise low -ones. The event which had raised his spirits to-day was a meeting with -Jean Cameron while Mr. Cameron was inspecting Number Three shaft. Jean -had accompanied her father to the hoist and Loring had been able to talk -with her for a longer time than usual. The incident that had depressed -was merely a slight break in the routine. He did not usually notice the -stage. Why should he do so now? What was more natural than that Mr. -Cameron should have some visitor? - -“Probably one of the directors of the company, or some official,” Stephen -reflected. “Perhaps that was why that new saddle was sent down to the -corral.” - -Loring shortened his day by dividing it into periods. A period consisted -of the time required to raise ten buckets of ore. At the end of each -period he permitted himself to glance over his shoulder, where just -beyond the corner of the ore cribs he could see the porch of Mr. -Cameron’s house. Now and then he was rewarded by a glimpse of Jean -reading or talking to her father. Loring was very honest with himself and -never before the requisite amount of work was accomplished did he give -himself his reward. This morning he had gone through the usual routine, -lowered the day’s shift and patiently waited to hoist the first result -of their labor. It had been a severe strain on his subjective integrity, -when, after he had raised nine buckets of ore, the expected tenth -turned out to be merely a load of dulled drills sent up to be sharpened. -Exasperated, he watched while the “nipper” boys unloaded the drills -and put in the newly sharpened sets which they had brought from the -blacksmith’s. One little fellow either unduly conscientious, or with a -wholesome dread of the wrath of the mine foreman, laboriously counted the -new drills from the short “starters” to the six- and seven-foot drills -that complete the set. - -“Oh, they’re all right, Ignacio,” called Stephen. “Chuck them in! _’Sta -’ueno._” - -The next time his hopes were fulfilled, and bucket number ten appeared -on the surface. As soon as it was clear of the shaft and swung onto -the waiting ore car, Stephen turned for his long-desired glance. Tied -to the fence in front of Mr. Cameron’s house was another horse beside -Jean’s pony, which he knew so well. As he looked, the door opened and -Jean appeared. She was too far away for him to distinguish her features -and yet she seemed to him to have an air of buoyancy which he had not -before remarked. A man stepped out of the doorway behind her. His tan -riding-boots were brilliant with a gloss that is unknown in a world -where men shine their own shoes. The sunlight positively quivered upon -them. Jean and the stranger mounted, and as they rode nearer to the hoist -Stephen observed that the man was singularly good-looking, but “too sleek -by half,” he growled vindictively, as he turned to his work again. - -The stranger turned out to be a young cousin of Mr. Cameron’s, ostensibly -in camp to see “western life”; but Stephen had his own opinion as to -that. In a week Loring disliked the cousin, in a fortnight he loathed -him, and all without ever having exchanged a word with the dapper youth. -A man who by necessity is compelled to wear a flannel shirt and trousers -frayed by tucking within high boots, is always prone to consider a better -dressed man as dapper. For a week Stephen had not had a chance to speak -with Miss Cameron. The cousin, “Archibald Iverach,” as the letters which -Loring saw at the post-office indicated to be his name, may not have been -intentionally responsible; but to his shadow-like attendance on Jean, -Loring attributed the result and accordingly prayed for his departure. -“To be sure he is her guest; but that is no reason why he should have -too good a time,” he reflected gloomily. “She must be enjoying his visit -or she would not keep him so long.” - -Had Loring overheard a conversation which took place at Mr. Cameron’s -table the day before Iverach’s return to the East, he would have felt -his affection for that gentleman still more increased. The conversation -had turned upon the types of men in camp. Iverach’s estimate of them had -been as disparaging as theirs of him. The only men with whom he had come -in contact had annoyed him as having no place in his neatly constructed -world. “Cheap independence” was the phrase that he had used to describe -their manner. He had good cause to know this independence for one day he -had addressed McKay in a rather lofty fashion, and what McKay had said in -return could only be constructed from a careful and diligent reading of -the unexpurgated parts of all the most lurid books in the world combined. -The retort had been worthy of a territory where the championship swearing -belt is held by one who can swear between syllables. His remarks had -reflected on Iverach’s parentage on the male and female sides, it had -enlarged on his past, expatiated on his probable future, dilated upon -his present. The pleasantest of the places that awaited him, according -to McKay, was hotter than Tombstone in August. His looks and character -had been described in a way that had surpassed even McKay’s fertile -imagination. Iverach had always imagined that he would fight a man for -using such language to him; yet for some reason he had not hastened -to express offense. He was not a coward; but he was not adventurous -nor easily aroused to anger when it might have unpleasant results. -Consequently to-day, when he finished his remarks about the men whom he -had seen by observing that they were “the scum of the earth,” he was -guilty of no conscious exaggeration. - -Mr. Cameron paid no attention to his cousin’s remarks. He had rarely -found them rewarding and therefore with his usual Scotch economy he -declined to waste interest upon them. Jean, however, for some reason took -the trouble to continue the discussion. - -“Have you met a man named Loring, one of the hoist engineers?” she asked -quietly. - -Iverach looked up suddenly. “Loring? What is his first name?” - -“Stephen.” - -“I have not met him here; but if he is the man I think he is, I happen to -have heard something of him in the East. A friend of his asked me to keep -an eye out for him if I came to any of the camps in Arizona. In fact, -he told me to keep two eyes open for him, one to find him with, and the -other to look out for him after I had found him. He intimated that Loring -was not a reliable character, to say the least.” - -“A friend of his, did you say?” - -“I judged that he had been at one time, but from the trend of his -conversation his friendship must have been a thing of the dim past. Among -other pleasant things about Loring he told me that—” - -“Did he say anything about his ability as a hoist engineer? That, I -think, is the only thing with which we are concerned here,” interrupted -Jean. “You know, Archie, there is a proverb to the effect that ‘a man’s -past is his own.’” - -“Then all I can say is that Loring is not to be envied his ownership,” -Iverach went on, ignoring the danger signal of Jean’s slightly -contemptuous manner. “And as for discussing his past, I cannot see any -harm in repeating what every one knows about a man.” - -Ordinarily Mr. Cameron was the most fair-minded of men, and judged people -by what he knew of them, not by what he heard; but he had a particular -antipathy to Loring, caused by dislike of his type, and also he was not -sorry to have Jean hear a few truths about the man whose companionship he -dreaded for her as much as he resented her championship of him. - -“What was it you were going to say about Loring?” he asked of Iverach, as -he handed him a cigar. - -Iverach paused to clip it carefully with a gold cigar-cutter that hung -from his watch-chain. “Of course it is only hearsay that I am repeating—” -Archibald began hesitatingly. - -“Then why repeat it?” asked Jean ironically. - -“Oh, the most interesting things in the world are those that you accept -on hearsay,” he laughed. “I forget the details of Loring’s history, -but this friend intimated that Loring, when engaged to his guardian’s -daughter, borrowed large sums of money from the guardian, and—well, -neither the engagement nor the money ever materialized and Stephen -Loring is not much sought after in that neighborhood. I met the girl -once,” he went on, “and I don’t blame Loring. She was the kind of young -woman whose eyes light up only over causes; but the money part of the -story, if true, is rather an ugly fact. Dexterity with other people’s -money is not an agreeable form of deftness.” - -“Utterly contemptible,” snapped Mr. Cameron, flicking the ashes from his -cigar onto the table with a prodigal gesture, only to brush them onto an -envelope with the afterthought of an exact nature. - -Jean rose and walked toward the door. - -“At what time do you ride this afternoon?” her cousin called after her. - -“Thanks,” replied Jean, without turning, “but I shall not be able to ride -this afternoon, I am intending to spend the time in making a pair of -curtains for this window. I do not like the view of the hoist.” - -Iverach’s face fell, for he was leaving Quentin the next day, and he had -counted much upon this last interview. “Can’t the curtains wait until -to-morrow?” he remonstrated. - -“No, they must be finished at once,” replied Jean with decision. - -“Why this burst of domestic energy?” queried Mr. Cameron. “You know that -you have not taken a needle in your hand since you have been in the camp.” - -“I intend to change my habits in many ways,” Jean responded, pressing her -lips together firmly. - -“I beg of you not to change at all,” said Iverach. “It is impossible to -improve a perfect person. However, since you are in the domestic mood, I -wonder if you would take pity on a helpless bachelor and take a stitch in -my riding-gloves for me?” - -“Riding-gloves are a luxury, while curtains are a necessity,” replied -Jean firmly. “However, if you will give the gloves to me, I will see that -our Chinaman mends them. There is nothing that he cannot do.” - -For some minutes after Jean had left the room, her cousin contemplated -the end of his cigar. It was hard for him to twist her expressions into -denoting a mood favorable to his complacency, so he spent an unpleasant -half hour. At last, giving up all hope of her reappearance, he moodily -set forth alone on his ride. He realized that in the Western setting he -did not appeal to Jean Cameron, and only hoped that when she should -return to the East, his deficiencies would be less apparent, while his -advantages would show more clearly. He therefore concluded to defer -putting his fate to the touch until circumstances should prove more -propitious. - -The curtains took some time in the making. Jean sewed them with a -preoccupied elaboration such as she was not accustomed to bestow upon -such tasks. She had been startled by the effect of her cousin’s words -upon her, and now stared at the hem of the curtains with a slight frown. -She had thought her interest in Stephen to be purely abstract and -impersonal, and yet it was not pleasant to think of the person in whom -she was even abstractly interested as having been concerned in a dubious -financial transaction. It certainly added interest to the problem of -his regeneration; but nevertheless it abated the zeal for solving that -problem, by making it seem not worth while. - -Stephen rejoiced when the day came for Iverach to leave Quentin. He -hoped that now his relations with Miss Cameron would be resumed. He was -amazed to see how much he had come to rely on his glimpses of her as the -inspiration of his existence. The first time that he saw her, however, -she passed him with a cool nod in which it would have been hard for any -one to find encouragement or inspiration. When this coolness was repeated -on several occasions he was puzzled. Then he made up his mind that the -underlying reason was the cousin, and in this he was certainly correct, -though not in the way he supposed. For the first time he began to realize -that the work at the hoist was monotonous. - -The Devil has three great allies, natural depravity, aimless activity, -and ennui, and this last is his most trusted, subtle, and reliable agent, -especially when coupled with depression. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - - -For three days it had been raining in camp, and the roads were mired -with brownish red ’dobe mud. In the tents the little stoves failed to -dry the reeking air. The ponies looked miserable, human beings hopeless. -Men tracked into the office, wet and disgusted, their dirty “slickers” -dripping little pools of water wherever they stood. The rain fell with -a dull rattle on the galvanized iron roofing, steady, relentless. Even -the “shots” from the workings sounded dull and dejected in the heavy -atmosphere. Every one was irritable and in an unpleasant frame of mind. - -Rain in Arizona is rare; but when it does come it is the coldest, -wettest, slimiest rain in the world. It rains from above, from below, -from the side. It dissolves rubber; it takes the heat from fire. -Water-tight buildings are mere sport for it. It rains in big drops that -splash, in fine drizzle that penetrates, in sheets that drench. The soft -rock melts and becomes mud. The dirt dissolves and becomes quicksand. -Empty gulches become torrents; small streams become rivers. Even the -“Gila monsters,” those slimy, mottled, bottle-eyed, lizard-shaped -reptiles, give up in despair, while mere man has no chance at all for -happiness and comfort. - -Stephen came back from his work at the hoist, soaked to the skin, and -sick. To add to his discouragement he found orders to work a double -shift waiting for him in his tent—the engineer of the eleven o’clock, -or “graveyard,” shift being incapacitated. He threw himself down on his -cot, cursing the squeak of the rusty springs. His feet felt like moist -lumps of clay. The dampness of his shirt sent a numb feeling through his -stomach. Lynn, his tent-mate, was on shift, so there was nothing to do -but stare at the one ornament of the tent, a battered tin alarm clock, -which, ticking with exasperating monotony, hung from the ridge-pole of -the tent. The sole reading matter at hand was an old copy of the Denver -_Post_. Stephen knew this almost by heart; but he picked it up and began -to reread it. - -“Be a Booster! Get the convention for your city! Don’t go to sleep!” - -The words, in flaming red and black headlines, irritated him. Throwing -the paper aside, he amused himself by drawing his fingernail along the -wet canvas of the tent, and watching the water ooze through the weave. -Occasionally from outside he could hear the cursing of the coke wagon -drivers, and the merciless crack of their whips. In his mind he could see -almost as well as if he had been outside, the six quivering, straining -horses, their haunches worn raw by the traces, the creaking wagon, up to -its hubs in mud, and the slipping of the rusty brake shoes. - -As he lay there in quiet misery, with renewed strength the utter -hopelessness of his life came to him. It was not so much the thought of -the present that crushed, but the knowledge that for years a life like -this was all that lay before him. The ride of three odd months ago with -Jean Cameron had awakened him to visions of things that lay beyond him. - -He shivered with cold, and pulled the dirty red blanket up over him. -Uncalled for, the thought of the saloon up on the hill came into his -mind. He imagined himself leaning against a bar, the edge fitting -comfortably into his side, drinking warm drinks, and feeling that life -was worth while. He tried to drive the thought away. It was useless. - -Jean Cameron for months now had been his idol, had seemed to him to -represent his better self. With an effort he brought her face before him. -The vision was all blurred. Her eyes seemed to look away from him. She -seemed intangible, unreal, compared with the comfort which he knew that -drink would bring. - -“What is the use, anyhow?” he murmured to himself. - -He turned irresolutely upon his cot, then he jumped up and out onto the -floor. - -“Oh, damn it, I will!” he exclaimed. - -He jammed his hat down over his eyes, struggled into his drenched -“slicker,” and started out into the muddy road. As he waded down to the -corral, his boots squashed in sodden resentment. - -Loring for a moment wavered irresolute while he was saddling his pony. - -“I won’t,” he muttered. - -But even as he said it, he gave the last turn to the cinch knot, and -swung into the saddle. - -Moodily he rode up the trail. It rained harder than ever. The pony -slipped, slid, and scrambled. Stephen sat in the saddle, stiff as an -image. His face was drawn with lines that were not pleasant to look -upon. The corners of his mouth were drawn hard down, telling of tightly -clenched teeth. - -When he reached the saloon he dismounted, hastily tied his horse to a -bush, and went in. In one corner of the shack a stove was burning warmly. -The pine boards of the flooring were smooth and white. - -The bar, which was made of packing boxes covered with oiled cloth, ran -the whole length of the room on the right-hand side from the door. At -the left-hand side were a couple of small green baize-covered tables. -By these were seated several Mexicans, all more or less drunk. They -were singing noisily. Along the wall behind the bar ran a shelf which -supported a large array of bottles. Behind these, in imitation of the -cheap gaudiness of a city saloon, was a long, cracked mirror. Two Colt -revolvers lying grimly on the shelf gave a delicate hint to guests to -behave themselves, and to pay their bills. - -The Mexicans looked in a stupid, vacant way at Loring, then went on with -their singing. The barkeeper was leaning against the wall, biting the -end from a cigar, and at the same time whistling. This accomplishment -was made possible by the fact that two front teeth were missing. It was -rumored that in addition to smoking and whistling, he could curse and -expectorate, all at the same time. - -The possessor of these remarkable accomplishments greeted Stephen in a -friendly fashion. They had often before met in the camp, when Hankins -came down from the saloon for supplies. - -“Well, now, Mr. Loring, I’m glad to see you. Mean weather out, ain’t it? -First time you’ve been up to our diggings, I guess,” he said, while he -gripped Stephen’s hand with a crushing grasp. - -“Yes, this is the first time I have had a chance to drop in,” rejoined -Loring. - -Some one rode up to the door, and with heavy tread, and jangling of -spurs, came stamping into the saloon. - -“How are you stacking up, Jackie?” asked Hankins of the newcomer. “Say, -Mr. Loring, I want you to know my partner; Mr. Jackson, shake hands with -Mr. Loring.” The introduction accomplished, he stepped back behind the -bar. - -“What are you goin’ to have to drink, gents? This one is on the house.” - -“Thanks! Whisky for me, please,” answered Loring. - -“Whisky? All right. I have some pretty good stuff here. No more kick to -it than from a little lamb. Have some too, Jackie? I thought so.” - -Hankins poured the golden fluid into three gray-looking glasses. - -“Regards, gents!” he said in a businesslike tone of voice, raising his -glass as he spoke. - -“Regards,” echoed Loring, emptying his glass at a gulp. - -The whisky sent a warm glow through his frame. - -“That was good,” he said, in a judicial tone of voice. “Now won’t you -gentlemen take something with me?” - -“Well, I don’t care if I do,” answered Hankins. - -The same formula, “Regards,” was repeated. - -Loring leaned in comfort against the bar. The attitude, unfortunately, -was not strange to him. Time and time again, on Stephen’s invitation, the -glasses were refilled, while every now and then Hankins insisted, “One -on the house.” After the first two drinks, however, the latter and his -partner drank only beer, while Loring continued to drink straight whisky. -The other men had one by one departed, so that Loring and his companions -were left alone. - -Stephen’s face began to burn. He caught a glimpse of himself in the -mirror that hung behind the bar. Somehow the dull-eyed, white face which -looked back at him seemed to have no connection with the radiant creature -that he felt himself to be. - -At this juncture Jackson made a suggestion. - -“What do you say to a little game, gents?” - -“By—all—means,” exclaimed Loring, emphasizing each word as if it were the -last of the sentence. - -Hankins, stooping behind the bar, brought up a pack of cards. - -“Here’s an unopened deck,” he said. With queer little side look at his -partner, he went on. “I’ll get even with you for our last game, Jackie.” - -Stephen, with footsteps that came down very hard, walked over to one of -the tables. Then he stopped. - -“I—haven’t—got—much—money—here,” he said. He enunciated with the heavy, -precise diction of a man who knows, but will not believe that he is drunk. - -“That’s all right,” said Jackson. “Your I. O. U. goes with us. We ain’t -like a boardin’-house keeper I used to know in Los Angeles, who had a -sign hung out over his place: ‘We only trust God.’” - -Stephen and Jackson sat down at the table, and the latter began to -shuffle the cards vigorously. - -“Another whisky, please,” called Stephen to Hankins. He spoke as if a -“whisky please” were a special sort of drink. - -“A beer for me too,” called Jackson. Hankins brought the drinks on a -little tin tray. Before taking each glass from it, he mechanically -clicked the bottom against the edge of the tray. - -Stephen fumbled in his pocket for change. - -“Don’t pay now,” drawled Jackson. “Drinks is on the game. Winner shells -up for the pleasure he has had.” - -Hankins joined them at the table, remarking as he sat down: “What’s the -chips wuth?” He nodded assent to Stephen’s rather indistinct answer. - -“Freeze-out? Play till some one goes broke? Let her drive, Jackie!” - -Jackson dealt with rapid precision, emphasizing each round by banging his -own card down hard on the table. All looked at their hands, while the -dealer drawled softly: “Kyards, gents? Kyards—three for you, Mr. Loring?” - -For three hours they played. Every little while Hankins rose, and brought -more drinks. - -“On the game, gents, on the game!” he exclaimed each time. - -Sometimes one was ahead, sometimes another, but no one had any decided -advantage. Stephen played mechanically. The voices of the other men -seemed to him far away, and indistinct. - -Then the luck changed, and Loring began to win steadily. His success -drew him on. He played recklessly, but by some sport of fate continued -to win. He had a stiff smile upon his lips, and was evidently playing -blindly. - -“Say, Hankie, I guess we are being bitten,” remarked Jackson dryly. - -“It sure looks that way. Mr. Loring here is a great player. We didn’t -know what we were up against, did we?” - -In his maudlin condition these words delighted Stephen. With only a pair -of threes in his hand he pulled in a stack of chips, on which the others -had dropped out. - -Hankins was shuffling, preparatory to his deal. As he twisted the cards -in his fingers, he gave a vivid, if immoral, account of his last trip to -Tucson. Loring’s head was swimming, but he caught the words: “She was the -stuff all right, all right.” - -Suddenly Jackson jumped to his feet, and stood as if listening intently. - -“I guess your _caballo_ must be loose, Mr. Loring; seems to me I hear him -sort of stamping round outside. Did you hitch him tight?” - -Loring staggered to the door and looked out. From the blackness came a -gust of wind and rain that cooled his flushed forehead. - -“I think he’s all right. Can’t see anything at all. Must have been wind -you heard. Big, big wind outside.” - -During his absence from the table, Hankins had dealt. Stephen picked up -his cards. At first he could not distinguish them. They seemed to be all -a blur of color. Then it slowly dawned upon him that he held four kings -and a jack. His head reeled with excitement. - -“Any objection to raising limit?” he asked eagerly, with an unconcealed -look of triumph upon his face. - -“Wa-al, of course, if you want to, we’ll come along, just to make the -game interesting,” drawled Jackson; “I guess you have us stung all right. -Only one card for you? Gawd, you must have a fat hand!” - -Loring kept raising and raising, until he reached the limit of all that -he owned in the world. Then, for drunk or sober, he was no man to bet -what he did not have, he called. Throwing his cards face upwards upon the -table, he reached unsteadily for the huge pile of chips. - -“F-Four kings!” he shouted exultantly. “I—think—they are good.” - -[Illustration: “‘It seems like as if you was bitten, Mr. Loring,’ said -Hankins.” _Page 125_] - -Jackson looked at Stephen’s half-shut eyes, at the heavy way his elbow -rested on the table, and smiled. Then with a broad wink at Hankins, he -exclaimed. - -“Well, I’ll be damned. Ain’t this the luck! Here’s four aces! By Gawd!” - -“It seems like as if you was bitten, Mr. Loring,” said Hankins. “Great -game that was. Well, gents, have another drink now on the house.” - -Stephen, in a dazed manner, took his drink, then dimly there came into -his mind his orders to work night shift. - -“What—whatsh the time?” he asked. - -“It’s close to ten,” answered Jackson. - -The faint idea kept crawling in Loring’s mind: “Night shift, hoist, must -go.” He plunged out into the darkness, and tried to drag himself into the -saddle. - -When he had gone the two other men roared with laughter. - -“That was easy,” exclaimed Jackson, “but I guess we had better look after -him a bit now, or he will be in trouble.” They went out after Stephen, -and found him still trying to climb into the saddle. Each time that he -tried, he almost succeeded, then he swayed, and fell back onto the muddy -ground. The pony, under these unusual proceedings, was growing restive. -They lifted Stephen onto the horse. He lurched, and almost fell off on -the other side. - -“Easy now. You’re all right,” said Jackson. - -Taking the pony by the bridle he led him into the saloon. With Loring -swaying in the saddle, the horse walked listlessly up to the bar, while -Hankins playfully pulled his tail. - -“Great pony, that, Mr. Loring; he knows a good place, all right. He’ll -take you down the trail fine as can be. He’s a wise one, for sure.” - -They led the pony to the door again, the hoofs creaking strangely on the -wooden floor. - -“Look out for your head, Mr. Loring! That’s good. _Á Dios_—good night!” - -From the trail Loring’s voice carried back. He was singing at the top of -his lungs. - -“Full right up to his ears!” ejaculated Hankins. “I hope he don’t fall -off and break his neck.” - -Meanwhile the faithful little horse trudged steadily down the trail, -carrying his helpless master. There are few Arizona horses which do not -understand the symptoms indicated by a limp weight in the saddle, and -meaningless tugs on the bridle. - -The camp, save for the flare by the smelter, was unlit. The pony went -straight to the corral, past all the dark, silent tents and shacks. The -sound of the hoof-beats echoed very clearly in the stillness. At the -corral Loring tried to dismount, and fell from the saddle hard. The shock -roused his consciousness. - -“Must be near ’leven. What, what wash I going—going to do at ’leven? Oh, -yes. Hoist, extra shift.” Leaving the poor pony standing still saddled in -the rain, he started up the hill for the hoist. - -Reaching the steps of the deserted _tienda_, he sat down and supported -his head with his hands. - -“I _guess_ I must be—a bit—tight,” he thought. - -The world began to whirl, to drop suddenly, to rise, to twist. He bit his -lips and pressed his knuckles hard against his temples. - -“Must sober up!” he kept repeating to himself. - -Sweat broke out all over him. He became ghastly ill. Lying at full length -in the muddy road, before the steps, he did not notice the rain that -beat down upon him. Gradually he began to lose consciousness. - -The whistle blew dull and discordant for the eleven o’clock shift. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - - -As the echo of the whistle died away, Loring raised himself, and -staggered to his feet. Not realizing what he did, he groped his way -onward up the hill. As he passed the men hurrying home from the last -shift, he noticed, as in a dream, the way in which the wet clothes -clung to their skins, the heavy folds accentuated by the glare of the -occasional electric light. - -Hughson, in the hoist shed, was cursing volubly at his delay in coming. -As soon as he saw Loring he grabbed his coat, and calling out a hurried -imprecation, started down the hill. - -Stephen had scarcely stepped to his place by the drum, when the indicator -clanged sharply one bell. Mechanically he threw his weight against the -lever, and shot the first bucket of ore mined by the shift high into the -dim light, almost into the tripod framework upon which the cable hung. - -Uncomprehendingly, he watched the figures outside bang down the iron -coverings over the shaft, and wheel the clanking ore car onto the tracks -beneath the suspended bucket. The men seemed to Loring to be possessed -of magical deftness as they unshackled the full bucket, and clamped the -swinging hook through the bar of the empty one. The loaded ore car bumped -groaningly off on its journey down to the cribs, the iron coverings -opened, and a voice called: “Lower!” - -At times Stephen’s head cleared somewhat, and he noticed every detail in -the hoist shed. He stared at the way the shadows from the one electric -light fell on the rough boards. The water jug in the corner, the -disordered tool box, the little pile of oily waste by the boiler, all -photographed themselves on his eye. He noticed the great pile of beams in -the back of the shed, the timbering for the new shaft, lettered with huge -blue stencils, and watched with interest the flare in the furnace when -the Mexican stoker threw fresh armfuls of mesquite wood upon the fire. - -Then again all was whirl, and he was obliged to grip his stool to keep -from falling. His hand clung to the control lever with damp, clinging -pressure. - -Every few minutes the gong would sound, telling that another load of ore -was waiting to be raised. Once he ran the “skip” so high above the shaft, -that it crashed into the framework. It seemed to be some one entirely -disconnected with himself who fumbled with the winch, and lowered the -bucket again, until the shrill: “O. K.! _’Sta ’ueno!_” from the darkness -outside told of the proper level. Between the striking of the bells, -Stephen puzzled over the meaning of the white painted bands on the cable, -which should have told him at what level the bucket was. - -The time seemed to drag endlessly. Still the buckets continued to come. -Just outside the door of the shed he could see the peg board that -indicated the tally of buckets raised. He swore at it bitterly. “Why -can’t the checker put in two pegs at a time, until the board is full, and -the shift finished?” he thought. - -Whenever the winch was in motion, the grating roar of the cable winding -in or out seemed to be inside his own head. Steadily he became more and -more bewildered. His will was rapidly losing the desperate fight for -control. Once he fell off his stool. - -There was a slight delay in the work. The next bucket was slow in being -signaled. - -“What lazy men—what lazy men!” he murmured. - -Then clear and sharp rang the signal: “Clang—Clang—Clang——Clang!” Loring -was too dazed to remember that three bells before the one to hoist was -the signal for “man on the bucket.” The one bell telling to raise, or two -to lower, had conveyed their meaning automatically to him. The sudden -change was incomprehensible. - -“Clang—Clang—Clang——Clang!” again the indicator rang. This time with a -sharp, insistent sound. - -“Perhaps they want it to come up fast. Oh, very, very fast,” was the -thought that came to him, and he threw the lever all the way over. -Fascinated, he watched the cable tearing past him on the drum. - -“Funny—they—should—signal—that—way,” he spoke aloud. -“Perhaps—they—are—drunk—too.” - -Faster and faster whirled the reel. The mark for the four hundred level -flashed by. Almost in an instant the marking for the three hundred -followed. The blur of white upon the cable, telling that the bucket was -only two hundred feet below the surface seemed to come within a second. -He did not see the marking for the last hundred feet. - -Suddenly, out of the bowels of the earth shot the bucket. For a sixtieth -of a second two figures, standing on the edge, were outlined. Loring -heard a shriek, half drowned in a crash and roar, as the bucket, with its -human freight, was hurled against the overhead supports. - -He smiled foolishly, and hopelessly fingered the lever. - -Outside, by the shaft mouth, all was in wild confusion. Shouts, curses, -hoarse whispers, all were intermingled. Then came the sound of feet, -tramping in unison, and men entered the shed carrying a—thing—its head -driven into its shoulders. Loring looked—stared—then he knew. - -Like a knife cutting into the mist of dizziness came realization. The -truth burned its way into his mind, and sobered him. - -“My God!” he sobbed. “The signal was for men on the bucket.” It -flashed upon him what had happened. The men, standing upon the edge -of the bucket, holding onto the cable, had been dashed into the tripod -framework, which overhung the shaft mouth, a scant ten feet above the -ground. - -Shaking, as with ague, he stepped outside to the shaft. - -A crowd of Mexicans were jabbering. The voices of several Americans -carried above the soft slur of the Spanish. Some one was holding lantern -over the mouth of the shaft, and cautiously peering down. Up the hill -came the sound of running feet. - -“Here’s the Doc, now!” called some one. - -They showed Dr. Kline the body on the floor of the hoist box. He merely -glanced at it, then picking up a burlap sack laid it over the head. - -“Where is the other man?” he asked curtly. - -Some one, with a quick gesture, pointed towards the shaft. “Down there.” - -A small, close set ladder, for use in case of emergency, ran down the -shaft. Down this two of the Americans started to climb. The group -by the edge watched breathlessly, while the light of their lantern -dropped—dropped—dropped. - -For the first twenty feet the lantern illuminated the greasy sides of the -shaft, bringing out clearly the knots and chinks in the boards. Then the -light shrank into the darkness, became a mere dot. After a long minute -the dot began to sway back and forth. But so far down was it that it -seemed to have a radius only of inches. - -“They have found him,” breathed McKay, who had reached the scene. On the -iron piping of the shaft pump tapped dully the signal to lower slowly. -Loring started for his place at the engine. - -“Get to hell out of here! You’ve done enough harm for one night.” - -Hughson, with his white night-shirt half out of his trousers, his boots -unlaced, and his eyes still heavy from sleep, shoved him aside and took -hold of the lever. Slowly he lowered the “skip.” It seemed to Loring an -hour before it reached the bottom. - -Then again on the pipe, for the bellrope was broken, was rapped the -signal. “One—one—one——one.” In the night air the clank of the taps on the -metal sounded ghostly. - -Slowly the bucket came to the surface. The two men who had descended were -holding in it a swaying figure. Many hands lifted the figure gently to -the ground. The doctor bent over it, then shook his head. - -“Nothing doing,” he said dryly, and they laid the body beside the other. - -A commanding voice echoed through the group. It was Mr. Cameron’s. - -“Where is Loring?” he asked decisively. - -Stephen, in the background, turned away, and, with a face like chalk -etched with acid, stumbled down the hill. Complete agony possessed him. -Hitherto, when he had failed, he had hurt himself alone. Now he was -little better than a murderer. Drunk on duty, when men’s lives were -dependent upon him! - -By some blind instinct he found his way to his tent, pulled back the -flap, and entered. Lynn was snoring quietly in his corner. His boots lay -on the floor, strange shapes in the dark. The alarm clock standing on the -table close by his head ticked softly and monotonously. - -Loring gasped for breath, swayed, and fell unconscious upon his cot. - -The bodies of the two miners had been carried to the hospital, and with -Hughson in charge of the hoist, the ore buckets were again coming up, -when Mr. Cameron and McKay left the scene of the accident and through the -darkness groped their way down the hill. - -“Some one told me that he’d seen Loring drinking this evening,” said -McKay. - -“That explains all,” answered Mr. Cameron gruffly. “I should have known! -I should have known! After the experience with men that I have had, to -put a man like Loring in a position of responsibility! I am the one -who is to blame for this. And yet he did seem to have pulled himself -together. This will finish him, though. Mark me, McKay, before this he -has been going to hell with the brakes on. Now he will run wild. Two men -dead! That is a rather heavy reckoning for Mr. Stephen Loring to settle -with himself. If I did not owe so much to him, I would have him in prison -for to-night’s work.” - -McKay nodded solemnly. - -“I liked him a lot. I thought that he had different stuff in him. As you -say, this will probably finish his chances; but it may,” he hesitated, -“it may make a man out of him. If this don’t, God himself can’t help him.” - -“What were the names of the men?” asked Mr. Cameron. - -“Marques was one. He used to work for me. The other was a new man, Duran, -or Doran, some one said was his name.” - -“Were they married?” queried Mr. Cameron. - -“No.” - -“That is a blessing. Well, good night, McKay. I shall see Loring in the -morning.” - -“Good night,” answered McKay, and he added under his breath: “I think I’d -rather not be Loring in the morning. Too bad! Too bad!” - -There was a light in Mr. Cameron’s house. As her father tramped up the -steps Jean threw open the door and came towards him. Her hair fell in -waves over her dressing-gown. The candle in her hand threw its light into -eyes which asked an anxious question from beneath their arching brows. - -“Father, what is the matter?” Jean exclaimed, as Mr. Cameron advanced. - -“There has been an accident at Number Three hoist,” answered Mr. Cameron. - -Jean drew a quick sharp breath. “Is Mr. Loring hurt?” she asked, bending -forward to look into her father’s face. - -Mr. Cameron looked at her hard. Then a grim humor glinted in his eyes as -he answered: “Loring hurt? Well—not—exactly.” - -Without a word Jean turned and led the way into the living-room, where -the hastily lighted lamp flared high, leaving a smooch of smut on the -chimney and casting bright reflections on the rough planks of the board -wall. The girl walked calmly to the table and lowered the wick of the -lamp. Then she tossed back the masses of her hair, and turning sharply to -her father she uttered one word: “Well?” - -“Well!” echoed Mr. Cameron, throwing himself into a chair by the -fireplace. “Well! I should say that was a curious word to describe -to-night’s doings.” - -“What do you mean?” - -“Mean? I mean that your Mr. Loring is a damned scoundrel.” - -“I do not believe it. You speak too harshly. You are angry.” - -“Hum! Perhaps.” - -Jean stood with downcast eyes. Suddenly she raised them like a condemned -man about to receive his sentence. - -“What has he done?” - -“He has murdered two Mexicans.” - -Jean shivered and drew the folds of her dressing gown closer about her. -“Mr. Loring murderer! Impossible!” - -“Nothing is impossible to a man when he is drunk.” - -“Oh, he was drunk, was he? At the shaft, suppose.” - -The note of relief in Jean’s tone seemed to add the last touch to Mr. -Cameron’s exasperation. - -“Do you think it was any excuse that Loring was drunk on duty with men’s -lives in his hands? You women have a queer code.” - -“No,” observed Jean, “it is not an excuse. It is an explanation. That I -can understand. The other I could not.” - -“Yes, and I can understand it, too. It means that I was a fool for -trusting him. I should never have done it, never!” - -Jean Cameron stole around to the back of her father’s chair and leaned -over till her face almost touched his. “Remember,” she said in a low -tone, “if he has lost two lives, he saved one.” - -“Damn me! Am I likely to forget it?” Mr. Cameron answered, shaking off -his daughter’s hands which had been laid lightly on his shoulders. -“Why else did I take him on as hoist engineer? It was paying a debt, -so I thought. But I had no right to pay at other men’s risk; and after -all I had done for him he could not have the decency to keep sober on -duty—well, it is too late to think of that now.” - -Jean turned away and twisted the curling ends of her hair slowly about -her finger ends. “Tell me just what happened,” she said unsteadily. - -“It is a short story,” her father answered gruffly. “Two men in the cage -at the bottom of the mine signaled to raise—engineer, drunk, sets lever -at top speed. If you cannot imagine what happened, you may take a lantern -and go over yonder to see.” - -Jean sank shuddering on the window-seat and buried her head in the -cushions. Her silence calmed her father’s wrath as her speech had stirred -it. “There, there!” Mr. Cameron said soothingly, as he walked across to -the window and stroked the bowed head. “It is nothing for you to be so -downhearted about, my lass. You had nothing to do with it.” - -Still the girl lay motionless. - -“Come, come, Jean! It is all over now for those poor fellows, and as for -Loring, you will never see him again.” - -The figure on the window-seat stirred slightly, and from the pillows a -muffled voice asked tremulously, “What will be done to him?” - -“That depends,” answered Mr. Cameron, “on whether the Mexicans decide on -a demonstration between now and to-morrow morning.” - -“Oh!” cried Jean, suddenly sitting up and wheeling about with pale cheeks -and flashing eyes, “they dare not. You would never allow it. Why are -there no men guarding him? It is as bad as murder.” - -“Not quite,” her father replied slowly. “Besides, if the Mexicans were -drunk, you could not hold them responsible. That would be—what is -it?—‘Not an excuse, but an explanation.’ However, Loring is safe enough -for to-night, and I promise you he will be far away by to-morrow.” - -With these words Mr. Cameron thrust his hands into his pockets, and -rising, strode up and down the room, the boards creaking under his slow -tread. His daughter leaned against the window, staring out into the night. - -“Oh!” she whispered, as if to some presence palpable though invisible, -“how could you? How could you do it after what you promised me?” Then she -turned her head and caught sight of her father’s resolute back. - -“He is rather a lovable person,” she said, with a little catch in her -voice. “Don’t you think he will feel badly enough without much being -said to him about—about the accident?” Her father laughed a short, -uncompromising laugh. - - - - -CHAPTER IX - - -The next morning Stephen awoke with a start, conscious that some one was -standing beside his cot, as he lay fully dressed outside the blankets. -Mr. Cameron was looking down upon him. When he struggled to his feet, -Loring’s mind was all confused. He ran his hand through his matted hair. - -“Where am I?” he murmured. - -Mr. Cameron’s face was set decisively. It was easy to see from which -parent Jean had inherited the modeling of the lower portion of her face. - -“Come outside, Loring!” There was a chill incisiveness in the words which -shocked Stephen into recollection. He followed Mr. Cameron out of the -tent. - -The bright, early morning sunlight made his hot eyeballs water, and he -blinked uncomfortably. His knees shook from weakness so that he leaned -against the fence beside his tent. Such absolute misery possessed him -that he could not think. His brain was numb. His mouth felt as if all -the moisture had been baked out of it. - -Mr. Cameron looked him over carefully and contemptuously, then fumbled in -his waistcoat pocket, and produced a cigar. Eyeing Loring all the while, -he slowly bit off the end, and lighted the cigar. Before he spoke, he -took several deliberate puffs. It was a good cigar; but the rich smell of -the fumes made Loring turn a shade whiter. - -“Well, Loring, I suppose you know what this means for you?” began Mr. -Cameron slowly. “A rather nice piece of work of yours, on the whole. Two -men killed by your efficiency! I do not suppose that there is any use in -asking you if you were drunk?” There was very little of the question in -Mr. Cameron’s voice. - -Stephen gripped the fence hard, then shook his head. - -“I do not like to dismiss you, Loring, for I am in your debt for saving -my daughter’s life.” Judging from his expression as he said this, the -thought of the debt did not greatly please Mr. Cameron. - -Stephen looked out over the mountains. His eyes were glistening with -moisture—and this time it was not caused by the glare. It cut him to the -quick that the man who was so righteously dismissing him should be the -father of the girl whom he loved. In a bitter moment there flashed before -his mind the vision of all his broken resolutions, of his now useless -plans for success. The whole fabric, which in the past months he had -woven for himself, he suddenly saw torn to shreds. - -Mr. Cameron’s next words were lost to Stephen. It was some seconds before -he could again focus his attention. When he caught up the thread, Mr. -Cameron was saying: “I had hoped better things from you, Loring. I should -have known better, that when a man is a drifter, such as you are, there -is no hope. Still I had hoped! Well, I was wrong. Here is your pay check, -for what is due to you. That is all.” - -Mr. Cameron turned and walked towards the office. Stephen stood looking -dumbly after him, with the check fluttering loosely in his fingers. -McKay, going by on his way to work, saw him, and came up to him. He held -out his hand in sympathy. - -“Damn it, Steve, I’m sorry for you! You ain’t worth a damn; but I like -you.” - -Stephen looked at him in silence. His only conscious thought, as he -gripped McKay’s hand, was the mental reiteration: “I am worth a damn, I -am worth a damn.” - -McKay went on in friendly solicitude: “Of course, it ain’t none of my -business, Steve, but if I was you I’d beat it pretty quick. Just at -present the friends of those men ain’t losing any love on you. I think if -I was in your boots the Dominion trail would look pretty good to me. It’s -about up to you to _vamos_.” - -“I will go,” said Loring. “It isn’t that I fear what these Mexicans may -do, because I don’t care. But I can’t stand it here. Good-bye, Mac! You -have been a good friend to me. I know I deserved to be fired. Deserved a -lot worse; but Mac,” he added desperately, “I will make good somewhere!” - -McKay almost imperceptibly shook his head, then smiled and again extended -his hand. - -“Well, anyhow, buck up, Steve! I’ve got to get down to work now. -Good-bye, and good luck!” - -“Wait just a minute!” Loring called after him. - -McKay turned, and Stephen held out his newly received pay check. - -“Will you be kind enough to give this to Hankins up at the saloon, when -you get time? I owe it to him, and to his partner.” - -“You certainly did do things up in great shape last night, Steve,” said -McKay, as he took the check, after Stephen had endorsed it with a shaking -hand. “Got cheated, I suppose?” - -“Rather,” answered Loring. - -“It is strange,” thought McKay to himself, as he walked away, “with -fellows like these saloon keepers. You could give them everything that -you have, and no matter what happened they would keep it safely for you. -But play cards and they’ll stick it into you for keeps.” - -Re-entering his tent, Stephen began to put his few belongings into a -saddle-bag. His packing was not a long operation. He looked rather -wistfully about the little tent, which had grown to seem to him almost -a home. Then, slinging the bag over his shoulder, he started for the -corral. - -It was still very early, and few people were about. One or two of the -Mexican teamsters were at the corral, sleepily kicking their horses into -the traces. These looked at Stephen blackly, for in a mining camp news -travels very fast. - -Stephen’s hands shook so that he had great difficulty in forcing the -bit into the restive jaws of his pony. At last, however, “_Muy Bueno_” -was saddled, and led out into the road. As Loring was putting up the -corral bars again, a bare-footed little Mexican girl came pattering past. -Stephen had often befriended her in small ways, so now she greeted him -with shy warmth. - -“_Buenos dies, amigo!_” she chattered. - -The little child’s greeting started the tears to his eyes. Fumbling in -his pocket, from among his few coins, he brought out a quarter. With a -dismal attempt at a smile, he tossed it to her. - -“Eh, Señorita Rosa, here is two bits for you, _dos reales_, buy candy -with big pink stripes.” - -The child ran up to him and gratefully seized his hand with both of her -grimy little paws. He cut short her repeated thanks with a quick “_No hay -de que_,” and swung into the saddle. - -“_Á Dios_,” he called to her. Then slowly he rode to the watering-trough. -“_Muy Bueno_” buried his nose deep in the cool water, and drank with -great gulps. Stephen could feel the barrel of the pony swell beneath the -cinch. When he could hold no more, “_Muy Bueno_” raised his head from the -trough questioningly, the drops of water about the gray muzzle glistening -in the sun. Stephen pressed the reins against the horse’s neck, and -turned him towards the Dominion trail, which showed as a ribbon of white -upon the hills to the eastward. - -Close behind him he heard a familiar voice singing an old song: “La, la, -boom, boom. La, la, boom, boom.” The last word was sung with unusual -emphasis, serving as a salutation and hail. - -Wah, beaming with his usual joyousness, was trotting towards him. - -“Hey, me bludder, me bludder. You gettee canned! Oh, me bludder, you -allee samee fool gettee drunk. You beat it to Dominion? Me bludder welly -wise! La, la, boom, boom!” Wah concluded his outburst with a peal of -laughter. - -Stephen looked down solemnly at him. - -“Damned funny, isn’t it, Wah?” - -“Oh, me bludder, me bludder!”—Wah could get no further, before another -paroxysm of laughter overcame him. Recovering somewhat, he produced from -his blouse a greasy looking package. - -“Me bludder get nothing to eat before he come to Dominion. Wah bring him -pie, oh, lubbly, lubbly pie.” - -Stephen was deeply touched by the Chinaman’s kindness. He shook his hand -warmly. - -“I had forgotten all about food. Good-bye, Wah, and thank you a lot.” - -“Oh, me bludder, wait one minnie moming. I have note. Missee Cameron, she -send me bludder a note!” - -Wah, with some labor, produced from his pocket a little envelope, and -handed it to Loring. - -“Oh, lubbly, lubbly note! Oh, lubbly—” - -“Shut up, Wah!” flared Stephen. White as death, he took the note from -Wah, and slipped it inside his shirt. He could not trust himself to read -it. - -“Please thank her, Wah, and—” He could say no more. Slowly he turned his -horse, and rode towards the hills. - -Wah walked away, murmuring beneath his breath: “La, la, boom, boom, me -poor bludder. He must habee hellee headache. La, la, boom, boom.” - -Stephen soon reached the place on the trail where was situated the old -deserted “Q” ranch. A rusty iron tank by the shanty bore the crudely -painted sign: “Water, Cattle 10 cts. per head. Horses 25 cts.” Beside the -tank, however, in what had evidently formerly been an empty bed, gushed a -clear stream of water. Stephen smiled when he saw how nature had thwarted -the primitive monopoly. - -Dismounting, he lifted the saddle from his horse’s back. Then he deftly -hobbled him, and left him to eat what grass there was by the rocky -stream bed, within a radius which he could cover with his fore legs tied -together. Stephen then seated himself on the ground, propped the saddle -behind his back, and proceeded to light a pipe, and to think. All the -events of the past few hours had come upon him with such rapidity that he -had had no time for reflection. - -Seated there in the open, beneath the vivid blue sky, with no sound but -that of the softly, coolly running water near, all the scene of the -accident loomed clearly before him, far more clearly than it had done -in the morning when he had still been in the camp, and surrounded by the -routine of life there. The very warmth of the sunlight, which should have -made a man’s heart bound with the joy of living, merely added to the -blackness of his mood. - -He was very nervous, and smoked with quick, hard puffs. Once his pony -started at something. The sound brought Loring to his feet, all of a -quiver. He sat down again, wiping the perspiration from his forehead with -an excited gesture. Gripping his hands together hard, he thought the -situation over and over. The more he thought of it, the worse it seemed. -This was not a case which could be called the result of negligence, or -drifting. It came very close to crime, and he knew it. Stephen Loring -was a man who, when he sat in judgment upon himself, was unflinching. He -weakened only when it came to carrying out the sentence which the court -imposed. He thought of Miss Cameron, as she had been on the ride which -they had taken together; then of what she must think of him now. This -brought a flush of shame to his cheeks. - -Suddenly he recalled the note which Wah had brought to him, and he took -it reverently from his blouse. It was the first time that he had ever -seen her handwriting. His name was written upon the envelope in clear, -decided letters, which coincided well with the character of the writer. -Stephen looked at the writing, with an infinite tenderness softening the -lines on his face. He started to tear open the envelope, then suddenly he -stopped. - -“I won’t,” he exclaimed, half aloud. “I will not read it until I am -worthy to do so, or until I have a great need of it.” Reluctantly he slid -the note back into his blouse. Then, coloring, he pushed it over to his -left side. His heart seemed to beat more strongly, more manfully, for the -companionship. - -He had eaten no breakfast, and began to be conscious of a great hunger. -He ate, down to the last crust, the pie which Wah had given to him. It -was as good as its maker had claimed it to be. - -There is nothing in the world equal to food for restoring self-respect, -and Stephen, having eaten, began to see the world more normally. -Tightening his belt, he took a long drink from the stream, then saddled -“_Muy Bueno_” and started again on his way. - -All the afternoon he rode continually up hill, till towards five o’clock -he struck the Dominion divide, and timber. The air here, in contrast to -the valley below, was cold, and Loring, only thinly dressed, shivered. -Several times cattle “outfits” passed him on the trail. Men were driving -in from the range scraggly bunches of steers, to be fattened before -selling. Once he did not pull his horse out of the trail in time, and -sent a bunch of frightened cattle stampeding into the underbrush. He was -so engrossed in his thoughts that he hardly noticed the cursing which he -received from the ranchmen. - -At dusk, beside the trail, he saw a bright fire in front of a tent. Two -men, occupied in frying bacon, and boiling coffee, were seated before it. -The smell that arose from the cooking appealed strongly to Stephen, and -he reined in his horse. - -“Howdy, stranger! Making for Dominion?” one of the men called out. -“Well, you won’t get there for some time yet. It is twelve miles from -here. Better let us stake you to a meal. Come from Quentin, do you? Me -and my pardner was going there to-morrow.” - -Stephen, with alacrity, accepted the proffered hospitality. - -“Much obliged, friend,” he said. “I’m pretty well broke, and I was not -expecting to get anything to eat to-night.” - -“Don’t worry about that. You shan’t go by our outfit hungry. We ain’t -made that way. There was a cuss I knowed once,” continued one of Loring’s -hosts, “up in Cochise County. I was broke, flat busted, when I was there, -and I asked him to stake me to a meal, and say, the mean skunk wouldn’t -come through at all. Said I could ‘watch him eat.’ Now what do you think -of that?” As he recalled the crime against hospitality, the man kicked -vigorously at one of the logs on the fire. - -Loring listened, with due sympathy, to the tale, the while he eyed with -hopeful glances the coffee-pot, at the edge of which a yellow foam soon -appeared, serving as signal that the meal was ready. - -“Sorry we can’t give you flapjacks,” remarked one of the men, as he -lifted the bacon off the fire. “Pardner here makes swell ones, but we’re -pretty low on our grub outfit now. Hope we can get work at Quentin. Any -jobs floating round loose there?” - -Stephen slowly filled his tin cup with coffee, and paused, after the -western fashion, to blow into it a spoonful of condensed milk, before he -answered. - -“I am not sure,” he said, “but I think that there is a vacancy on one of -the hoists. I think they fired a man there recently.” - -“That’s good for us,” exclaimed one of the men. “Wish they’d fire some -more!” Stephen did not continue the discussion. - -After a quiet smoke beside the embers of the fire, Stephen rose, and -thanking his hosts warmly, prepared to leave. As he was mounting he -happened to feel a flask that was in his pocket. He remembered vaguely -having filled it the night before. Reaching down from the saddle he held -out the flask. - -“Have a drink, gentlemen?” he asked. - -One of the men took the flask in his hands, almost reverently. - -“I don’t know that I won’t,” he said. He took a long pull, then handed -the flask to his partner. - -“Regards!” drawled the latter. - -The words brought to Loring a bitter train of memories. - -“Keep the damned stuff if you want it. I am through with it,” he said. -Then, with a quick good night, he rode off. - -The men, in mild wonder, looked after him for a moment. Then they -relighted their pipes, and settled themselves by the fire. - -“Mighty nice chap, that,” remarked one, “but he must feel powerful bad -about something to give away good whisky like that.” - -It was nearly nine o’clock in the evening when Stephen rode into -Dominion. The main street was brightly lighted, and as it was Saturday -night, the sidewalks were crowded with people walking restlessly up and -down. The shop windows glowed attractively. Through several open doors -he could see men gathered about pool tables. The bright lights by the -cinematograph theater showed clearly the faces of the passing crowd. - -Dominion had passed from the camp into the town stage, as was evinced -by the liberal scattering of brick houses among those of wooden -construction. Many horsemen were passing in the street. Fresh from the -hills, Loring felt almost dazed by this renewed contact with established -humanity. - -His first care was to seek a stable for “_Muy Bueno_.” Seeing in one of -the side streets a livery sign, he entered the place and tied his pony -among the long line of horses in the shed. Then, after saying to the -proprietor: “Hay and not oats,” he walked out into the street. - -“I hope the confounded expensive little beast won’t order champagne for -himself,” he thought. “He is almost clever enough to do so.” - -As he walked slowly along, he mentally calculated his resources. Three -dollars in cash. Nothing in credit. A few cents Mexican in prospect. He -would have to sell the pony and saddle to complete the payment of his -poker debt. - -A group of men, thoroughly drunk, passed by, singing noisily. Idly, -Stephen followed after them, until they came to the little creek that -runs through the center of the town. Across the creek, high above the -dark, silent water, lay a narrow swinging bridge. One of the group of men -called out: “Let’s go across the bridge of sighs to Mowrie’s.” The others -noisily assented and soon Loring could hear the bridge ahead of him -creaking beneath their weight. He stood for a moment, hesitating, staring -at the lights across the bridge, then he deliberately followed. - -The opposite shore of the creek was lined with “cribs” and shanties -stretched in a long, sodden row along the bank. From many of them came -the brazen notes of gramophones in a jarring discord of popular tunes. -Women’s voices were mixed with the music, in shrill unpleasant laughter. -A board walk ran before the close built houses, and up and down this -tramped throngs of men, talking noisily, singing, swearing. The faces of -some group or other were now and then visible, as some one scratched a -match to light a cigarette. - -Women of almost every nationality on the globe stood in the doorways, -French, Japanese, Negroes, Swedes, all dressed in flaunting kimonas. They -called to the men in the crowd, exchanged jests, or leaned idly against -the door-posts, staring fixedly into the faces of the men. From many of -the places a bright light streamed out across the water. The shutters of -several were drawn. - -In strange contrast to the scene, in one of the houses some one was -singing in a clear tenor voice, which sounded as sweet and pure as if it -had been in a choir. For a moment the murmur of voices and tramp of feet -ceased, as people paused to listen. - -Stephen walked slowly down the street. A woman in one of the darker -doorways called out to him. He stopped, bit his lip hard. - -“Why not? What is the use, now?” he thought. - -He ran up the steps and opened the door. Inside, half a dozen painted -women were drinking with the men there. The proprietress beckoned to him -to enter. - -Then like a veil, before his eyes dropped a cloud of memory. He saw the -shed at the hoist, two bodies laid limply on the ground; figures moving -in dim lantern light. - -He staggered out into the street, drew a deep breath and strode back -across the bridge. - -“I am through with this sort of thing for good,” he muttered. “I owe the -world too big a debt of reparation now. But I will pay it.” - -For the first time in his life, Loring’s smile was a smile of power, that -power which rises sometimes from a supreme sorrow, sometimes from supreme -holiness, sometimes, as now, springing from the black soil of crime; but -bespeaking the discipline which has learned to control passion, to bring -desire to heel, and to make a man master of himself despite all the -devils that this world or the next can send against him. - -He had learned his lesson at last, learned it at the cost of two lost -lives, and the cost to himself of an overshadowing remorse which he could -never escape, let the future hold what it would. But he had learned it. - - - - -CHAPTER X - - -After three days of fruitless search for work, Stephen’s outlook upon -life grew very gloomy. Dominion was over-supplied with laborers. In -looking backward, Stephen felt that he had applied for every sort of -position from bank president to day laborer, but everywhere the answer -had been the same: “Sorry, but we have nothing for you. We are even -turning off our old workmen.” - -In the West, in time of prosperity, positions and opportunities of every -sort go begging. In time of depression there is no harder place in which -to get work. - -To make matters worse, Stephen from principle had always refused to -affiliate himself with one of the labor organizations, and in Dominion -the power of the Union is paramount. Once he had almost persuaded the -foreman at one of the smelters to put him on the rolls; but when the fact -had appeared that he was a non-Union man the official had changed his -mind. - -“I can’t risk it. It is all wrong; but if I was to hire you to-day, why -to-morrow I wouldn’t have three men working.” This had been his final -answer. - -Shortly after this experience, Loring had been approached by a delegate -who had tried to persuade him to join the Miners’ Union. The delegate -had enumerated the advantages, and they were many,—a sick benefit of ten -dollars a week, friends wherever he should go, work at high wages, and a -seventy-five dollar funeral when he died. The delegate had asked Stephen -if it were fair that when the Union, by concerted action, had brought -about the prevailing high scale of wages, outsiders should both share -the advantage, and yet weaken the Union position by working contrary -to the fixed scale. At the end, as a peroration, the man had cited the -possibilities of crushing capital at the polls, arguing with the general -point of view of such men, that the chief aim of capital was to crush -labor. - -“You needn’t pay your dues until you get your first month’s wages,” he -had concluded. - -Stephen had begun to feel that perhaps his anti-Union convictions had -been prejudiced, for the man had clearly shown many good arguments. Then -the delegate, seeing that Stephen was weakening, had thought to clinch -the matter. Changing his manner, he had shaken his finger in Loring’s -face and said: “If you don’t join the Union, we’ll see to it that you -don’t get a job in the territory. We’ll send your picture to every camp -in Arizona, and life will be hell for you. There was a man only last week -who wouldn’t join. He is in the hospital now, and, by Gawd, he will stay -there for a while.” - -“That settles it,” Loring had answered. - -The man had become all smiles again. - -“I thought you would see it that way,” he had rejoined. - -“I think that you misunderstand me,” had been Stephen’s reply. “I would -not join your Union if you hired me to do so. As a matter of fact, the -Miners’ Union here is not a true labor union. It is a thugs’ Union, and -the sooner all honest workingmen find it out, the better for the cause of -Unionism throughout the country.” - -The scuffle that had ensued had resulted in Loring’s favor, but it had -not helped him to find work. - -One morning, rather from want of occupation than from any definite -expectations, Stephen took his place in the post-office at the general -delivery window. He was greatly surprised when, in answer to his inquiry, -the clerk slipped a letter through the grating. It bore the Quentin -postmark; but the writing was unfamiliar. Stephen walked across the room, -and leaning in the doorway opened the letter with curiosity. It was from -Mr. Cameron, and ran in this fashion: - - “QUENTIN, September 20th. - - “STEPHEN LORING. - - “DEAR SIR: I suppose that you realize how final your actions - here must be in regard to any trust being placed in you. I - shall say no more upon the subject. The fact remains that - unfortunately I am in your debt.” - -Stephen read this sentence over several times before continuing: - - “I feel bound to make one more effort to repay you, which must - be regarded as final. I have interests in several companies in - Montana, and I will offer you a position with one of them, on - the understanding that you will never come into my way again - or—” - -here several words were scratched out - - “You must realize how unpleasant it is for my daughter to be - under any obligation to a man, who, to put the matter plainly, - is a worthless drunkard. In offering this position to you, I - may as well say that this is the only motive which actuates me. - The position is one in which no responsibility is involved, - being merely clerical. The pay would be sufficient to maintain - you as long as you remain steady. The condition I impose would - be absolute. - - “Yours truly, - - “DONALD H. CAMERON.” - -Stephen noticed with interest the character of the signature. - -“I don’t believe that man ever failed at anything,” he thought. “There -is only one thing that he never learned, and that is how to deal with a -failure.” - -It was the noon hour, and the various whistles told of lunch, for some. -Stephen read the letter over and over. - -“Why not accept the offer?” he questioned. Mr. Cameron could certainly -feel no more disrespect for him than he did now, and the blatant fact -that he was hungry and without work forced itself upon his attention. - -“It means another chance,” he muttered, and now that he was sure of -himself, he knew that a chance meant success. He thrust the letter into -his pocket. - -“Hang it, I’ll take him up,” he thought. “I have been everything else; I -may as well be a grafter.” - -As he slid his hand out of his coat pocket, he felt another envelope. -He pulled it out, and looked longingly at it. It was Jean’s note. He -hesitated, then tore it open. - -“I need it now, if ever I shall,” he said to himself. There was only a -line, signed with Jean’s initials. - - “_I still believe in you._” - -Stephen read it with bowed head. His shoulders shook. The paper danced up -and down before his eyes. Over and over he read the note. Unconsciously -he stretched out his hand, as if to press in gratitude and devotion the -hand of some one before him. At length, with a start, he came to himself. -He returned the note to his pocket, and in a determined fashion walked up -to a man who was standing near him. - -“I would like to borrow two cents for a stamp,” he said. - -The stranger roared with laughter. - -“Well, you are broke! Say, friend, I’ll stake you to a meal, if you’re -that hard up.” - -Stephen shook his head: “No, thank you. I have still my coat, which I can -pawn; but I am much obliged for the stamp.” - -He found an odd envelope lying on a table. Going over to the desk, he -addressed this to Mr. Cameron. Then taking from the waste basket a sheet -of paper, he wrote quickly upon it five words: - - “I’m damned if I will.” - -He put on the stamp with a hard pound of his fist, and threw the letter -into the mail-box. Then, with his heart beating joyously, he walked out -of the post-office. Inside his coat a note lay warm against his heart. - -On the corner stood a pawnbroker’s shop. The brightness of the gilding -upon the three balls showed that it was a successful one. The place was -crowded with men who were disposing of everything that duty, a mild sense -of decency, or necessity did not for the moment require. Loring entered -the shop, and elbowing his way to the desk, laid down his coat. The -proprietor picked it up, prodded the cloth with his thumb-nail, shook his -head over the worn lining, then said: - -“Two bits on that.” - -Stephen silently took the proffered quarter, and went out. - -“That means one meal, anyhow,” he thought. - -A gaudy sign attracted his attention: “Chinese-American Restaurant”—“All -you can eat for two bits.” - -“I think that they do not lose much on their sign,” he reflected when, a -few minutes later, seated at a counter, he gnawed at some bread and stew, -and drank bitter coffee. “Any man who ate more than a quarter’s worth -would die.” - -Having eaten, he sauntered over to the cashier’s window and nonchalantly -slid his quarter across the counter. Then no longer a capitalist, but -also no longer hungry, he stepped out into the street again. He looked -to right and left wondering in what direction to turn his footsteps. -The sight of a crowd in front of the post-office determined him. He -questioned a man on the outskirts of the group, and found that the -excitement was caused by a telegram, the contents of which was posted in -the window. Working his way through the crowd, Loring reached a position -whence he could make out the notice. The telegram was from the governor -of Sonora, the Mexican province which lay just across the line from -Dominion. - - “Outbreak of Yaquis. No troops near. Would deeply appreciate - help from Dominion.” - -The crowd was laughing and cheering. - -“Me for Old Mexico!” called one. - -“Perhaps we’ll all be generals,” shouted another. - -The news had spread like wild-fire, and from every direction appeared -groups of men, armed with Winchesters, shotguns, or Colts. All were -rushing toward the Southern Pacific station. Stephen hurried up the -street to a gun store, and by dint of hard persuasion obtained from the -proprietor an old Spencer forty-five calibre, single shot carbine. - -“It will at least make a noise,” thought Loring. He joined a group of men -who were on their way to the train. - -“I might as well go to Mexico as anywhere,” he reflected. “My -responsibilities are not heavy just at present.” - -Within half an hour after the receipt of the telegram in Dominion, three -hundred men, all armed to the teeth, were at the station. For in a region -where the sheriff’s posse is one of the regular forms of entertainment, -there are many men who joyously start upon an expedition of this kind. - -A cheer arose from the crowd when Harry Benson, at one time the captain -of the “Arizona Rangers,” appeared upon the scene, clearing a way for -himself by the adept fashion in which he spat tobacco juice. - -“Going along, Harry? Good boy,” some one called. “You ought to have -brought all the Rangers with you.” - -“See here,” answered Benson, “this ain’t in no wise official business. -This is sort of a pleasure excursion.” There was a howl of laughter at -this, then as the engine whistle blew sharply, all scampered for places -in the “special” which the railway company had provided. - -A man who was on the front platform of one of the cars began to sing a -song—a very popular song, of which the verse and chorus were unprintable, -but very singable. With men hanging out of the windows, standing on the -roofs of the cars, and with platforms and steps jammed, the train pulled -out of the station, headed for the Mexican Line, only fifteen miles away. - -Half an hour brought them to the border. Here were waiting the governor -of Sonora and many Mexicans, who cheered excitedly as the train drew into -the station. Benson, by unanimous consent, was acting as director-general -of warfare. As the train slowed down, he jumped to the platform. A -Mexican official resplendent in uniform and gold braid, in strange -contrast to the motley throng following at Benson’s heels, stepped -forward to greet him. Benson sang out cheerfully: “Hello, here we are; -what is there for us to do?” - -While the official was explaining the situation, he looked a bit -anxiously at the crowd, hoping that when the trouble was over, they would -all depart from the province of Sonora with the same celerity with which -they had come. It certainly was a hard-looking aggregation. - -The Governor talked earnestly with Benson, speaking excellent English. “I -do not know what to do. According to the laws, no armed force can enter -our territory. It is a bad precedent. And yet we need help. There are no -troops near Los Andes where the raiders are feared. Yet the laws are very -strict, and as an officer of the law I must not let them be broken. The -law says plainly: ‘No armed force.’ What shall I do?” The Governor was in -despair over the situation. - -Benson saved the day. - -“Look here, Gov,” he said. “I used to be an officer of the law myself. -A man must conform strictly to the laws; I know all about it. But,” he -added, with a wink, “we’re here, just sort of a disorganized party as -happened to meet on the train. We was all going hunting near Los Andes, -and we sort of came over without formalities.” - -The Governor’s face beamed with happiness at this solution. - -“It is _magnifico_! And as the custom-house cannot appraise so many -weapons at once, you are permitted to carry them, gentlemen. In bond, of -course, in bond,” he added hastily. - -“Yesterday we had news from the hills that the Yaquis were raiding -again,” he said to Benson. “Two prospectors were killed, not fifty miles -from Los Andes. A bridge on the main line is down. The troops cannot be -there for twenty-four hours.” - -Benson nodded comprehendingly. “Same old trouble, ain’t it? I wonder -these Yaquis wouldn’t get tired. We’ll fix them up good for you if they -come.” - -These formalities of international law having been settled, all again -boarded the train, and a slow hour’s run toward the west brought them to -Los Andes. - -The inhabitants of this sleepy little town of Old Mexico thronged about -the station and welcomed their prospective rescuers with enthusiasm. -Loud cries of “_Vivan Los Americanos!_” echoed from end to end of the -platform, as the men swarmed out of the train. - -Soon the men were assigned to quarters in the various houses and shops. -The plaza before the cathedral in the center of the town became, for -probably the first time in its existence, a scene of activity. - -As Benson was completing the disposition of his men, a Mexican ranch -owner rode up to him. - -“The Señor is the _comandante_?” he asked in broken English. - -“Sure, Mike, _Seguro Miguel_—Fire away!” answered Benson. - -The ranchman looked puzzled, then commenced to explain his errand. His -ranch, it appeared, was situated some twenty miles outside the town, in -the direction from which the Yaquis were expected, and his ranchmen were -all absent upon the range. He asked for five or six men to defend his -_hacienda_: - -Benson waved his hand airily, in feeble imitation of the Mexican’s grand -manner: “_’Sta ’ueno_, you shall have them.” - -Turning, he saw Loring, who had been listening to the talk. Benson was -accustomed to judging men quickly, and he was rarely deceived. A quick -survey of Loring’s face satisfied him. - -“He is no quitter, anyhow,” he thought, “and at present his moral -character don’t matter.” He called to Loring: “Say, you Mr. -What’s-your-name, you get four other men and go with this chap to his -ranch!” - -“Have you _caballos_ for them here?” Benson asked the ranchman. - -“Sí, sí, I can procure them at once,” exclaimed Señor Hernandez. “And my -gratitude, it is eternal.” - -“Never mind that,” said Benson, turning away. - -A very short while sufficed for Stephen to find four volunteers to -accompany them, and within an hour the little party was riding out of -the town to the southward, where lay the ranch and the threatened pass. -The country was desolation itself, rocky ground covered with layers of -dust and sand. All was gray in color. The little clusters of sage-brush, -all dried and lifeless in the heat, made no change in the gray hue. The -road was merely a track across the desert, beaten by chance horsemen or -cattle. Along this the horses scuffled, sending up clouds of alkali dust -into the air for the benefit of the riders who were behind. - -Stephen rode beside Señor Hernandez, speaking only in short sentences, to -answer or ask some question. The leather of the saddles, beneath the sun, -was burning hot. - -After four hours of riding, just as the sun was beginning to drop behind -the foothills, they saw before them in the desert a large patch of green, -as vivid as if painted upon the ground, fresh and succulent, amidst the -desolation of the plain. - -“My alfalfa crop!” exclaimed the Señor, pointing with pride. “We have -irrigated. Much water. Big crop. _He aqui la casa_—there, behind the -alfalfa.” - -Stephen saw rise, as if by magic, a long one-story structure of -adobe, so much the color of the earth as to have been till now almost -indistinguishable. Beside the house was a large brush corral. So -perfectly was all blended with the landscape, that not until they were -very near did Loring appreciate the great size of the building. - -At the corral they dismounted and unsaddled. - -“Better carry the saddles up to the house!” said Loring to the men, who -had hung them over the corral bars. So, carrying their guns and saddles, -they all walked up to the house. - -Here they were received by the ranchman’s wife, a striking Spanish beauty. - -“It is Señora Hernandez,” said the Mexican, with justifiable pride. The -Señora showed the men the rooms where they were to sleep. Stephen, as -commander, was given the largest room. - -Pepita was very well pleased with the appearance of the defender whom her -husband had selected, for in spite of his flannel shirt and dusty boots, -Loring was not bad to look upon. - -In a few moments, Stephen re-entered the main room. The Señora was there, -leaning against one of the easements. The scarf that was thrown over her -head added to her charms, and lent a subtlety to her dark beauty. As -Stephen walked across the room toward her, he admired her greatly. - -“By George! She is a beauty,” he exclaimed under his breath. Then -answered a voice within him: “Yes, but at thirty, she will be fat, oh, -very fat.” - -As the Señora turned to greet him, the first voice made answer: “Yes, but -it will be at least twelve years before she is thirty.” - - - - -CHAPTER XI - - -While Stephen was talking with the Señora, a gong in an inner room -clanged. - -“It is the time for our evening meal, Señor,” she said, with a pretty -little Spanish accent. After Loring had perjured his soul by swearing -that he was loath to change his occupation for the pleasure of eating, -she smiled at him mockingly, and led the way into the dining-room. - -The Hernandez ranch was the largest in the Los Andes region, and the -house was furnished and decorated in an elaborate manner. The walls of -the dining-room were hung with gay pictures, and the table, set for -supper, boasted several pieces of silver. - -Señor Hernandez presided at the table with true Latin hospitality, and -Stephen, his previous protestations to the contrary notwithstanding, did -full justice to the excellent fare, at the same time keeping up a lively -conversation with the Señora. The men with him ate vigorously, the only -break in their steady eating being caused by glances at the pretty -Mexican girl who served the meal. - -After supper, Stephen and the Señor went outside, and walked about the -ranch, studying the possibilities of defense in case of trouble. At -Stephen’s suggestion, they led the horses from the corral, and picketed -them behind the house, as the first thought of any marauders would -undoubtedly be to raid the corral. - -Like most adobe houses, the ranch house consisted of a main building, -with two wings running at right angles, thus enclosing three sides of a -court. All the windows of the ground floor had iron shutters, fastening -on the inside. The ground about the building was as flat as a board, and -was broken only by the lines of the irrigation ditches which ran amidst -the alfalfa fields. - -“If we station a man to watch upon the roof,” said Stephen, as they -returned to the house, “it will be all the precaution that we need -to take. On a clear night such as this, a man can see far in every -direction.” - -“It will be well,” answered the Señor. “And, this door here, it is a -heavy one. It will be hard to break down.” - -“I don’t believe that it will come to that,” laughed Stephen. “I don’t -believe that we shall have any trouble at all.” - -“I pray not,” answered Señor Hernandez. His was not a nature which was -exhilarated by prospective danger. - -When they re-entered the main room, Stephen glanced quickly from the -Señora to her husband. - -“It is strange,” he said to himself, “how a little swarthy man like -that could have won such a beauty for a wife. I suppose, though, that -if she really loves him, she does not care if his ears are a bit like -an elephant’s, his eyes too close together, and his nose as thin as a -razor.” The husband of a pretty woman is not likely to have his charms -exaggerated by other men. - -They spent the evening smoking and talking. The Señora rolled cigarettes -with the greatest deftness, and the smile with which she administered the -final little pat did much to enhance the taste of the tobacco. - -At ten o’clock the Señora rose, and after calling the servant to light -the men to their rooms, bade them good night. - -It had been agreed that Stephen should stand the first watch. He -insisted that the Señor, tired as he was from two sleepless nights of -worry, should not share his vigil. - -Having exchanged his carbine for one of his host’s Winchesters, Loring -mounted the ladder that ran from the hallway of the second story to the -roof. It was a perfect night. The heavens were glittering with stars, and -all was silent. Not a breath of air came from across the desert to cool -the copings, which were still warm from the day’s heat. - -Stephen leaned his rifle against the chimney, then felt in his pockets -for a little sack of coarse “Ricorte” which some one in the town had -given to him. He filled his pipe carefully, packing the tobacco down with -his forefinger, till all was even; then striking a match, he held it far -from him, until the blue flame of the sulphur burned to a clear yellow. -He held the match to his pipe until the bowl glowed in an even circle of -fire, and the smoke drew through the stem in rich, full clouds. Then, -picking up his rifle again, he began a careful lookout over the plain -towards the pass. - -A fact which greatly facilitates the building of air castles, is that, -unlike most buildings, they need no foundations. The castles which -Stephen built that night, as he paced up and down the roof, biting -hard on his pipe-stem, would have done credit to a very good school of -architecture. The general design may be imagined from the fact that time -and time again he drew from his pocket a little crumpled envelope, and -holding it close to the glow of his pipe, read and reread it. Once he -carried it to his lips, and with a feeling almost as of sacrilege, kissed -it. Then he turned sharply, for on the roof behind him he heard light -footsteps and the tinkle of a woman’s laughter. - -“Oh, but Señor Loring is a faithful lover,” exclaimed Pepita, stepping -toward him. - -Even in the darkness, Stephen felt himself blushing up to his hair. He -stammered, then laughed: “I plead guilty, but I am not generally like -that.” - -“It does no harm,” she murmured softly. “And the Señorita, does she also -care so much?” - -“Not in the least,” answered Stephen. “The Señorita does not even know -that I care.” - -“Oh, you think so? Women are not so—how do you say—? so blind,” laughed -the Señora. “But you have not asked me why I am here, Señor.” - -“No,” answered Stephen rather bluntly. In the light of his reveries of -the past hour he felt rather ashamed of the little flirtation that he had -carried on after dinner with the Señora. - -“You need not be embarrassed,” she went on, laughing at his stiffness. -“It was not to see the gallant Señor that I came, though no doubt there -are many who—” - -Loring silenced her with an imploring gesture. - -“No, I came to see if all were well. I was afraid that I heard noises,” -she confessed. - -“All right, so far,” said Stephen. “I do not think that we shall have any -trouble.” - -“Then I will again go down,” she said. - -Stephen walked with her over to the ladder, and bowing low over her hand, -whispered a low “_Buenas noches!_” As he helped her to the ladder, he -looked into her eyes rather curiously. He could not understand their -expression. - -When she had her foot upon the uppermost rung, she said good night to -him. Then, as he turned, she said, half shyly: “The letter, Señor; you -will watch the _carta_ of the Señorita well?” - -Laughing softly, yet not altogether gaily, she ran down the ladder. - -“My husband, he is good,” she reflected. “Ah, very good, but he is as -homely as a—monkey.” - -Wiping two little tears from the corners of her eyes, she stepped quickly -back into her room. - -The time passed very slowly for Stephen. The clock in the courtyard below -struck two. His rifle barrel began to feel cold in his fingers, as he -fought against sleep. The night had grown thicker, and he could no longer -see far out into the distance. - -“It will be morning soon,” he thought. “I don’t believe that the Yaquis -mean business this time.” - -Even as he spoke, his ear caught a low sound. Then there was a silence. -Doubtingly, he leaned far out over the wall, and listened intently. Again -he heard the sound; again it ceased. Then once more it arose and became -continuous,—very soft, but insistent, a solid, dull, irregular thud, as -of many hoofs beating upon soft ground. The blood in Stephen’s face -boiled with quivering excitement. The hoof-beats came nearer and nearer, -then stopped. The next sound that he heard was a grating click by the -corral, as of some one slipping down the bars. He thought with lightning -rapidity: “A shot will be the best way to awaken the men.” - -Almost instantly afterwards he saw against the gray-white of the opposite -side of the court a shadow, then another and another. Kneeling behind the -coping, he covered the leader with his rifle. - -The click of the action as he cocked his Winchester sounded to him -preternaturally loud. He dropped the muzzle of his rifle a fraction of -an inch until the first shadow drifted across the sights. He fired, and -the shadow dropped. The flash of his rifle was answered from the dark by -a dozen spurts of flame. All around him the bullets whined, or clicked -against the dry adobe, sending great chips flying in all directions. -Three times Loring fired, lying with the butt of his rifle cuddled close -against his cheek. Would the men below never hear! - -As the vague shapes rushed across the court for the door with a shrill -yell, five knife-like jets of flame shot from the windows, and the -reports echoed staccato in answer to the fusillade from the courtyard. -The leaders of the Yaquis had almost reached the shelter of the doorway, -but the angle windows fairly spat fire as the defenders emptied their -repeaters. Unable to face the withering fire the raiders wavered, then -fell back to the line of the irrigation ditches, whence they sent a rain -of bullets against the windows of the houses. The tinkle of breaking -glass on all sides was mingled with the reports of the rifles. The -surprise had been complete for the Yaquis, as they had expected to find -the ranch unprotected. - -As soon as this first attack was repulsed, Stephen ran to the ladder and -jumped down to join the others. His rifle barrel was burning hot from the -rapidity of his fire. - -He found the men all gathered in one room. It was a strange looking group -which the flashes of the rifles revealed in the smoky air, half dressed, -kneeling by the shutters, shooting viciously out into the darkness, at -the blurred things in the ditches. A bullet whistled by Stephen’s ear as -he entered the room, and with a dull spat buried itself in the plaster -behind him. - -“Easy on the cartridges, boys!” he called. “They may rush again.” His -advice was well called for, as in their excitement the men were firing -wildly. - -“It is lucky that there are no windows in the back of the house,” he -exclaimed to Señor Hernandez. - -The latter was engaged in trying to make himself an inconspicuous target. - -There was the sound of footsteps at the door of the room and a blinding -glare of light, as Pepita entered, carrying a large lamp. Stephen -snatched it from her and hurled it out the window through the splintered -panes. But its work had been done. One of the men by the window sobbed, -staggered to his feet, and leaned out into the night, shaking his fist -towards the ditches. Then he fell face downward across the ledge, where -for an instant he was silhouetted by the last flicker of the lamp below. -Loring flung himself upon him and dragged him back into the room, but -not before the body was riddled with bullets. Stephen felt the sting of -several as they grazed his clothes, by some miracle leaving him unhurt. - -“_Dios!_” gasped the woman. - -“Lie down!” shouted Loring, forcing her to the floor. Then he took the -dead man’s place by the shutter, and began to fire methodically. - -Encouraged by their success, the Yaquis again swarmed forward. The -whiplike crack of five Winchesters checked them before they were within -the courtyard. - -The black of the night began to turn to gray-blue with the hint of dawn. -The figures in the ditches stirred, and as they began to run for their -ponies, the defenders fired into them with telling effect. Then, in -contrast to the previous rattle of shots, came the sound of the hoofs of -a hundred ponies, scampering back up the trail. - -“All over!” called out Stephen. Rising from his knees, he leaned out -of the casement, and sent one more shot towards the flying Yaquis. It -brought no response. - -They carried Haskins, the man who had been shot, into the next room, and -laid him on the bed. He was quite dead. The Señora followed, sobbing. -Wildly she turned to Stephen as he tried to comfort her. - -“You, Señor—you do not know what it is to kill, by madness, by folly.” - -“Not know?—I—not know?” Stephen smiled a smile that was not good to see, -as he broke off. - -“Good God!” he thought, “had it left no trace on him, that haunting -vision of two corpses flung twisted and out of shape on the wreckage of -timber, those two things that had been men sent out of life by his guilty -hand? Had it not lived with him by night and refused to be put aside by -day? Had they not risen up in the dark hours and called him by a name -from which he shrank like a blow, and now this woman told him he could -not know what it meant to kill a man!” - -He put his hands in his pockets, bowed his head, and walked slowly back -into the other room. - -The light breaking fast in the eastern sky, showed a disheveled scene. -Mattresses were scattered on the floor, the bedding was thrown about the -room, all of the windows were smashed. By each casement was a pile of -empty brass cartridge shells. By one window was a mess of something red. -The air was stale, and filled with acid-tasting powder smoke. - -Loring went downstairs, and slipping back the bolts on the heavy door, -stepped out into the cool of the early morning. Outside everything seemed -in strange order, compared with the scene that he had left. He started on -a tour of investigation about the ranch. The ditches amidst the alfalfa -showed no trace of the death-dealing occupants of an hour before. As -he walked around the corner of an outbuilding, he stumbled over a body -which the Yaquis had overlooked in their flight. The Indian’s stiff, -square shoes lay with their toes unbending in the dust. The blue denim of -the overalls and the buckle of the suspenders showed the trademark of a -Chicago firm! A bullet hole was clean through the middle of the swarthy, -bronze-colored forehead. Even through the rough clothing, the flat, -rangey build of the man was evident. The hair, falling forward in the -dust, was coarse and black. - -“Poor devil!” thought Stephen. “He has ridden on his last raid.” - -He walked quietly away from the body, and went back to the house. -“Everything is all right,” he reported. - -Soon the stove was lighted, and coffee boiling. The men were laughing and -telling stories. The Señor strode up and down, twisting his little spikes -of mustachios, and exclaiming upon the valor of the defense. - -When they sat down to breakfast, there was a seat too many at the table. -Loring thought of the silent form in the room above, and for a moment -felt weak. Then, shaking off his depression, he entered into the general -hilarity. Time after time, the servant passed the great platter of dry -_tortillas_. The big cakes tasted delicious to the tired men. - -As they finished breakfast, the sound of a bugle call sent every one to -the window. Outside was a troop of Mexican cavalry, hot on the trail of -the Yaquis. Señor Hernandez invited the officers to enter, and while he -pressed whisky upon them, gave a voluble account of the fight. He spoke -in such rapid Spanish that Stephen could understand little; but from the -frequent sweeping gestures, he judged that the story lost nothing in the -telling. - -The officers remained but a short while, then remounted, and rode at a -sharp trot towards the hills. - -“I wonder that the government does not send enough troops to wipe out -these fellows. These cavalry will only drive them back into the hills, -and in a few months they will again swoop down upon the outlying towns -and ranches, just as they have been doing for the past ten years,” -thought Stephen. - -After breakfast, Loring prepared to return to Los Andes. The others had -accepted the invitation of Señor Hernandez to stay for a few days as his -guests. A spirit of restlessness pervaded Stephen, and prevented him from -remaining. - -The Señor was to arrange to send home Haskins’s body. - -“He came from Trinidad, he always said. Guess he had folks there,” one of -the men had volunteered. - -Just as Loring was mounting, Pepita ran forward, and whispered something -to him. - -He shook his head in reply. - -“Try and see!” was her rejoinder. - -The thought which she had put into his head made the long ride back to -Los Andes pass very quickly. - -The town had resumed its normal appearance. The loafers were again -stretched upon the steps of the little stores or on the pavements. Those -who were not rolling cigarettes were comfortably asleep. - -“_Los Americanos vamos_,” was the answer to Stephen’s inquiries. - -After leaving his borrowed horse at a stable, he wandered idly towards -the plaza. Now that the reaction had come, he felt very tired. Spying a -bench beneath some palm trees, he stretched himself upon it, and in the -security of him who has nothing, dozed peacefully. - -A mosquito, buzzing vapidly about his head, caused him to exert himself -to the extent of a few useless blows. A wagon, rumbling down the street, -caused him to look up. Then after these two exhibitions of energy, he -fell soundly asleep. - - - - -CHAPTER XII - - -Towards ten o’clock in the evening Stephen directed his steps to the -railroad station, and seating himself on a side-tracked flat car, kicked -his heels over the edge, and smoked his last pipeful of tobacco. He -jangled some keys in his pocket, pretending to himself that they were -money. It was bad enough, he reflected, to be “broke” in the States, -where he could talk the language; but here—He looked disconsolately at -the throng of Mexicans who were on the platform. “_Buenos dies_, and _que -hora?_ although I am sure I pronounce them well, will not take me very -far in the world,” he thought. “It does not matter much where I go; but -I certainly must go somewhere. I will board the first freight train that -appears, whether it is going north, south, east or west.” - -Having come to this determination, he jumped down from the car, and -walking over to the bulletin board, ran his finger down the time-table. - -“Nine o’clock—train for La Punta. Well, that’s gone. Hello! Here we -are—eleven P. M. express for the City of Mexico. I wonder what that -asterisk means. Oh, yes, Pullmans only. That would be infinitely more -pleasant than the brake-beams of a freight,” he mused, “and for me it -would be equally cheap.” - -Stephen was a novice at the art of “beating it,” but he possessed two -very valuable assets, a keen observation and a vivid imagination. Having -thus resolved to travel in state, he returned to his flat car, and set -about planning ways and means. A few minutes of solemn thought gave him -his first conclusion: that at this time of year the southbound trains -would not be running full. - -“Therefore there will be many vacant berths,” he thought. - -A few more puffs upon his pipe gave him the next link in his plan. -“Whether empty, or full, the Pullman company has all the berths down.” - -Thought number three: “At night they make long runs, without stopping. -Therefore,” thought Stephen, “once on board, and safely tucked in an -upper berth, I can travel until morning without being discovered and -thrown off the train.” - -“Now comes the second part of my problem: how to get on the train and -into my berth without being discovered.” He shut his eyes, and visualized -a train standing at the station. “Where would the porters stand?” he -asked himself. - -He thought hard, and remembered that at night the porters generally stand -at opposite ends of their cars, so that every alternate set of steps is -unguarded. - -“Now,” he reflected, “if the berths are down, the curtains will be drawn, -therefore there will be little light from the car windows, to bring me -into prominence, and the passengers will probably be asleep. All will go -well, if the vestibule doors are not locked. But generally on hot nights -they are unlocked. Anyhow, I must risk it.” - -As he mused over his plan giving it the final touches, the express for -the City of Mexico thundered into the station. - -With a grating of brakes, and a squish of steam, the heavy train sobbed -itself to a stop, the engine dropping from the fire-box a stream of -glowing coals between the gleaming steel rails, and blowing forth steam -from the exhaust. - -“Here’s my train,” thought Loring. “It looks very comfortable.” - -He slipped his pipe into his pocket, and stepping back into a shadowy -corner, awaited his opportunity. - -From the platform arose an irregular murmur of voices, such as always -attends the arrival of a train at night. That murmur which, to the -passengers lying half awake, sounds so far away, and unreal! He heard the -bang and thump of trunks being thrown out of the baggage car. A party -of tourists, weighted down with hand-luggage, hurried by him. Even as -he thought, the white-jacketed porters stood with their little steps -alternately at the right and left ends of their respective cars, so that -in the long train there were three unguarded platforms. - -A man was rapidly testing and oiling the car wheels. His torch flared -yellow-red against the greasy brown of the trucks, and made queer shadows -dance on the red varnished surface of the cars. - -Stephen tried to make out the name of the car nearest to him. The first -four gilt letters showed clearly in the torchlight: “ELDO”—The man with -the torch moved nearer. “ELDORADO,” spelled Stephen. “Perhaps the name is -a delicate hint to me from Fate.” - -The inspector passed on up the train, hitting ringing blows on the wheels -with his short, heavy mallet. He tested the last car, then stepped back -from the train, swinging his torch around his head as a signal to the -engineer. - -“It must be now or never,” thought Loring. But which platform to try! -At that instant, from the car opposite him, came a great puff of white -steam, for a moment almost obscuring the steps from view. - -Loring darted forward, and jumped upon the train platform. Anxiously he -thrust his shoulder against the vestibule door. It was unlocked. As he -gained the vestibule, the car couplings tightened with a jerk, and the -train clumsily started. He took a hasty glance down the interior of the -car. At the opposite end the porter was closing the vestibule door. The -aisle was clear. - -Stephen stepped quickly into the car, pulled back the curtain of the -nearest section, and stepping on the lower berth, caught hold of the -curtain bar, and with one pull swung himself up. In the process, he -inadvertently stepped on the fat man in the lower berth. Stephen knew -that he was fat, because he felt that way. The man swore sleepily, and -twitched the curtain back into place. - -“I think that I won’t put my boots out to be cleaned to-night,” said -Loring to himself. “It would be tactless.” Then he pulled the blankets -up over him, rolled over close to the far side of the berth, and fell -asleep, lulled by the hum of the car wheels, pounding southward fifty -miles an hour. - -Tired out by his vigil of the night before, Stephen slept until it was -late. He awoke with a start to find that it was broad daylight. Sleepily -he tried to think where he was. His eye fell on the dome of polished -mahogany above him, upon the swaying green curtain, and the swinging -bellrope. Then he recalled the situation. For a few moments he lay back, -blissfully comfortable. His weary muscles were grateful for the rest. -Then he roused himself, and peered cautiously out from between the -curtains. While he was looking up and down the dusty stretch of carpet in -the aisle, the colored porter rapped hard on the woodwork of the lower -berth, and proceeded to awake the occupant. - -“Last call for breakfast, number twelve, last call; half-past nine, sir, -half-past nine.” - -Stephen curbed a childlike desire to reach over and pull the kinky hair -of the darky. - -“I am sure that he would think that I was a ghost,” he laughed to himself. - -He could hear the man below him turn over heavily, then grunt, and begin -to dress. - -“I think I also had better arise,” reflected Loring. He watched the -porter until the latter was at the far end of the car, then dropping -his feet over the edge of the berth he slid out onto the swaying floor, -almost into the arms of the amazed Pullman conductor, who at that instant -had entered the car. - -“Where did you get on?” gasped the brass-buttoned official. “I didn’t -know that there was an ‘upper’ taken in this car.” - -“At Los Andes,” answered Stephen, “I was rather tired, so I thought I -would not bother you at the time.” - -The conductor looked hard at Stephen, and took in at a glance his ragged -clothes, dirty shoes, and flannel shirt; then he grinned. - -“That was mighty considerate of you, stranger; now let’s have your -ticket. We have almost reached our next stop.” - -Stephen pretended to feel in his pockets, though he well knew that it was -useless. The other people in the train were beginning to stare. - -“To be put off a train would be far pleasanter in imagination than in -reality,” flashed across Stephen’s mind. - -“Hurry up, now,” repeated the conductor. “Where is your ticket?” - -“I haven’t any,” Loring blurted out. - -“Come on, now, no nonsense! fork up!” insisted the conductor. - -“I would gladly, if I had any money,” rejoined Stephen, then with seeming -irrelevancy, he added: “How far is it from here to the ‘City’?” - -“It is about seven hundred miles,” answered the conductor, “but I am sure -you will find it a delightful walk.” - -“Last call for breakfast in the dining-car. Last call,” again echoed -through the car. - -“Better hurry, sir,” said the porter, not realizing the situation, as he -passed Stephen. - -“Thank you,” said Loring, with a grim smile. “But I think I will refrain -from eating this morning.” - -A rather heavy faced man, who was sitting near by, laughed audibly. -Stephen became the center of interest for the passengers. For them, -the little scene was a perfect bonanza, serving to break the monotony -of the trip. Loring was conscious of the stare of many eyes, about as -effectually concealed behind books and magazines as is an ostrich with -its head in the sand. - -“Come out into the vestibule with me!” said the conductor, rather -gruffly. Stephen followed him in silence. When they were on the platform, -the conductor turned and looked at him squarely. Loring noticed that -there could be kind lines about the close-set jaw. - -“See here,” began the former, “you don’t look to me like a man who is -often working this sort of game. I guess you must be sort of up against -it, ain’t you?” - -Stephen bowed his head slowly, in non-committal agreement. - -“Now I don’t like to see a man down and out,” went on the conductor, -“unless he is the kind that deserves to be, and you ain’t. Besides, -you’re from the States like I am, and so, though I’d lose my job if it -were found out, the company is going to set you up to this ride free.” - -Stephen’s face lighted with gratitude, as he grasped the man’s hand, and -thanked him. - -“When did you have anything to eat last?” asked the conductor suddenly. - -“Not since yesterday morning,” answered Stephen. - -“Well, you go right into that car” (he pointed forward with his thumb) -“and eat. I’ll make it all right with the dining-car people.” - -“That is too much,” said Loring. “I can’t”— - -The conductor cut him short. “Some time when you have the money, you can -pay me back. If you don’t ever have it, don’t worry. No, you mustn’t -thank me any more. It is just that you are an American, and I don’t like -to see a fellow from the States up against it in this Godforsaken land.” - -As Loring walked through the train, his blood tingled with the pride of -race and citizenship, tingled with the glow that comes or should come -to every man, when he realizes the strength of the great brotherhood -to which he belongs: realizes that when things are stripped to -their elemental facts, and the veneer of international courtesy and -friendliness removed, he is standing shoulder to shoulder with his -countrymen against the world. - -When at last the train drew into the “City,” Stephen said a warm good-bye -to his benefactor, then followed the line of passengers out into the -street. With no definite purpose in mind, he wandered up and down the -city, staring idly into the shop windows. By accident, he found himself -in a great plaza. He was pleased with the gaiety. - -“If it were not for economic distress, I should be very well off,” he -thought. “I must get work somewhere, and immediately.” - -He walked up one of the side streets, looking at all the signs, hoping -that one might give him a clew. For a long time he saw nothing helpful, -and he was on the brink of discouragement, when his eye was attracted -by a large gilt umbrella on the next corner, hung out over the street. -Beneath it was a Spanish sign to the effect that umbrellas could be -bought, sold, or repaired within. In the window was a large placard: “We -speak English.” - -“If I were skilful with my hands,” thought Loring, “I might get a job -repairing here; but I am not skilful with my hands.” - -He stood reflecting, his hands deep in his pockets. An idea soon came to -him, for he had always been more resourceful than successful. - -He walked boldly into the shop, and approached the proprietor. The man -began to assume the smile with which he welcomed prospective buyers, -noticed Loring’s clothes, and checking the smile, waited in silence for -him to speak. Stephen, unabashed, smiled in a most friendly fashion, and -a few words of comment upon the admirable situation of the shop, and the -excellence of the stock, quite won the owner’s confidence. After a few -moments of conversation, in a guile-free manner he asked: “And do you do -much repairing here?” - -“No,” the proprietor admitted, “very little. Most of my business is to -buy and sell.” - -“It seems strange that in a big city such as this there should be no -demand for repairs?” - -Stephen made the statement a question by the rising inflection. He spoke -with the hesitating assurance which had made so many people trust him. - -The proprietor shook his head in answer: “No, there is no demand.” - -“Is it not that people do not think, perhaps, do not know of your place?” - -“Very likely you are right,” answered the storekeeper. He was pleased by -the stranger’s interest in his business. - -Then Loring played his high card. - -“Suppose that you had an active English-speaking agent, who would go to -the offices and homes of the American and English colony, and collect -umbrellas to be repaired, then would not your business flourish?” - -The shop owner grasped the plan, but not with both hands. - -“Y-e-s,” he answered slowly. In dealing with an American he felt that he -must be on his guard. - -“Well,” continued Stephen, “I am such a man, very efficient (Heaven help -me!) and reliable (It won’t!). For a commission, no pay in advance, but -for a commission of say ten cents for each umbrella, I will collect for -you.” The umbrella man consented half reluctantly. The matter was soon -arranged, and Loring hastened forth upon his rounds. - -By six o’clock, after many strange experiences, and rebuffs, he had -managed to collect ten umbrellas. Gaudy red, somber black, two green -ones, and one white. All were in advanced stages of decrepitude. He had -pleaded with the owners to let them be restored, as if each umbrella had -an “inalienable right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.” - -With his odd collection bundled under his arms, Loring started on his -return to the store. Greatly pleased with the success of his scheme, he -strolled along talking to himself, and not noticing where he was going. - -Walking in the opposite direction to Loring on the same sidewalk was -another man. His quick, decisive steps and the slightly deprecating -glance which he cast at any thing of beauty in the windows of the -shops that he passed proclaimed him an American. The expression on his -face varied from amusement to scorn as he glanced at things that were -different from those in the States. There was in his whole manner that -good-humored toleration of the best achievements of another nation that -marks the travelling American. The sidewalk was narrow, and the heavy -shoulders of this man overshadowed half the distance across. He was -covering a good yard at a stride, which was all the more remarkable as -the most of his height was above the waist. Had he been a girl, his -hair would have been called auburn where it showed beneath his hat. -Being a man, it may be truthfully said that it matched the bricks of the -building he was passing. His eyes, which were as round as the portholes -of a ship, betokened a degree of honesty and kindness which matched -well with the general effect of strength and homeliness given by his -whole appearance. The energy of all his motions was a sharp contrast to -Loring’s lazy stroll. At the second that he reached Loring, his eyes were -uplifted in wondering curiosity at the bright colors of the roof tiles. -His preoccupation, combined with Loring’s absorption, made a collision -inevitable. And the inevitable, as usual, took place. - -“I beg your pard—” began Stephen, raising his eyes. - -“Stephen Loring!” exclaimed the stranger. “Where in the devil did you -come from?” - -“Baird Radlett!” called Stephen, as if stupefied. - -They shook hands warmly. Radlett was an old friend of Stephen’s, one who -had been an intimate in the days before Loring’s misfortunes. - -“Come on, Steve, we’ll go and get a drink,” said Radlett. - -Loring shook his head. “Not for me, thanks,” he answered. - -“Phew!” whistled Radlett. “Since when?” he involuntarily exclaimed. Then -for the first time he took notice of the strange load which Loring was -carrying. - -“What on earth, Steve?” he asked, pointing to the umbrellas. - -In the old days Loring had been well off, Radlett rich, and it hurt -Stephen to explain his abject poverty. He hesitated a moment, then -unblushingly replied: - -“Why you see, Baird, I am on a sort of house-party here, and the weather -being fine, I thought that I would take all the girls’ umbrellas around -to be fixed.” - -Radlett stared in amazement, then both broke into shouts of laughter, as -the ridiculousness of the excuse struck them simultaneously. - -“See here, Steve, I know that you are in hard luck. Come down to my hotel -with me, and we will talk things over,” said Radlett. Putting his arm -affectionately through Loring’s, he dragged him, protesting, along with -him. As they walked, Stephen explained the matter of the umbrellas, while -Radlett listened amused, but a bit saddened. - -“To think of dear old Steve Loring reduced to peddling umbrellas!” he -said to himself. - -On their way, they came to the gilt sign of the umbrellas. - -“I must leave these here,” said Loring. - -Radlett tactfully waited outside, while Stephen entered and deposited -the results of his collection. The proprietor, who, when released from -Stephen’s winning conversation, had begun to feel rather worried, was -surprised and delighted at the success of the mission. He opened the -cash drawer, and handed to Stephen a silver dollar. Stephen wrote down -the addresses of the umbrella owners, then with his new earned dollar -clinking lovingly against the keys in his pocket, he rejoined Radlett. - -They walked briskly to the hotel where Radlett was staying, and stepping -into the smoking room, were soon comfortably ensconced in two big leather -armchairs, placed in an out-of-the-way corner of the room. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - - -Radlett pounded upon the nickel bell on the smoking table, and ordered -two cigars. Stephen bit the end of his cigar hastily, while Radlett -produced a clipper from his pocket, and carefully cut the end of his. -These unconscious actions portrayed well the differences in their -characters. Drawing a match from the white earthenware holder, Baird -scratched it on the rough surface, and then held the light to Stephen’s -cigar. - -“Mine is lighted, thank you, Baird,” said Loring, and through blue -circles of smoke he watched Radlett light his own cigar. - -“I had almost forgotten what a stocky old brute Baird was,” he mused. “I -do not think, though, that I could ever forget that dear old face. Of all -the faces that I ever knew his is the homeliest, and the kindest! If he -poked that long jaw of his out at me, and looked at me with those honest -eyes, he might tell me that black was white, and I should fight the man -who said that it was not true.” - -Radlett also utilized those first moments of silence brought about by -a good cigar, an old friend, and a comfortable chair, to make a few -observations of his own. - -“In five years, Steve has changed a great deal,” he thought. “Five years -of failure, and drifting, such as I judge these to have been, leave -their mark on any man, definitely and indefinitely. Imagine Loring, the -fastidious, in those clothes five years ago! And then the old frank -manner has become a bit hesitant. He seems always on the defensive. -Poor old chap, he must have had some pretty hard blows. The old light -in his eyes is no longer there; but after all he has that same quality -of winning appeal, of humor and of latent strength, which nothing can -obliterate, which always has made and always will make every one who -knows him hope for the best, and pardon the worst.” At the conclusion of -his reflections, Baird’s eyes were damp. - -Stephen smoked slowly, as one would sip a rare old wine. Then, taking the -cigar from his mouth, he held it before his eyes, twirling the label -slowly around, and looking at it appreciatively. - -“It is eleven months since I smoked a good cigar, Baird; perhaps you -can guess how this one tastes to me,” said Loring softly, almost as if -talking to himself. Then he relapsed again into silence. - -Radlett puffed vigorously on his cigar, then said: “Steve, it is your own -fault that you are not smoking good cigars all the time.” - -“Perhaps it is,” answered Loring; “but the fact remains, and eleven -months is a long time out of one’s life to lose such happiness.” - -“The last time that I heard of you, you were in Chicago,” remarked -Radlett. “Some one told me that you had a good position there. What -happened to you?” - -“Fired,” was the laconic answer. - -“Did you deserve to be?” - -“Yes.” - -One of the things that Loring’s friends held dearest in him was the fact -that he never shirked the truth in the matter of his delinquencies. His -own word on the matter was final. In the old days Loring’s deficiencies -had been among his most charming attributes. People had always spoken -hopefully of “When he buckles down.” Now the “When he will,” had become -“Now that he has not,” and his deficiencies were not so charming. - -Radlett smoked on imperturbably. When he again spoke, his voice was thick -with smoke. - -“What was your last position?” - -“Hoist engineer, Quentin Mining Company.” - -Again the query: “Why did you leave?” - -“Fired,” repeated Stephen, flushing savagely. Then looking Radlett in the -eyes, he added: “I was drunk, and through my fault two men were killed.” - -Leaning forward, Radlett laid his hand on Loring’s shoulder, and gripped -it tightly with his strong fingers. - -“Steve, old man, I am sorry for you. I know what this must mean to you. -You were always the most kind-hearted fellow on earth, and I can see how -this has crushed and saddened you. I’m—I’m damned sorry—but, Steve, you -needed it. It will be the making of you, Steve. We have all been wanting -to help you, and we could not; you would not let us. You have lost almost -everything in the world,—your money, your position, your family. You -have lost prize after prize which you might have won; and all these -things have not held you. You still had that quality of drifting. You -used to think,—I remember well how we used to talk it over,—that love -would hold a man. It won’t. If you have tried it, you know”—Loring -breathed hard—“if you have not, then you have been spared one more blow. -You never had, or could have had, religion; I don’t know what that might -have done for you.” Radlett was speaking fast now, and though he struck -hard, Loring never flinched. - -“You always knew that you were hurting yourself by what you did; but that -did not check you,” went on Radlett. “You had, I remember, a creed of -ethics in which, so you said, you logically believed. You know how much -good that has done you. - -“Steve, I am as sorry for you as if you were myself—yes, sorrier.” In the -intensity of their grasp, his fingers almost crushed Loring’s shoulder. -“I know what it seems to you, the feeling of guilt, and of remorse; but -you deserved it and you needed it. The one thing that could have stopped -your drifting was to find that your destiny and actions are inextricably -tangled with those of other men. Now that you have learned that by -drifting you may sink other ships, you won’t drift. I know you, Steve, -and I swear it. This has been your salvation.” Radlett stopped short, and -sank back into his chair. - -Stephen sat looking sternly into the smoke. There were deep lines beneath -his eyes, showing dark against his pallor, for so great was the tumult -within him that even through his heavy tan his face showed white. When he -spoke it was as a man who opens his mouth, and does not know whether the -words that he speaks are loud or soft. - -“You are right, Baird. I was wrong, and Baird, I’ve thrown over -everything in the world that I cared about. There was a girl, Baird; you -were right about that, too. She believed in me, even though she did not -care. I cared for her more than for anything that I have ever dreamed of -in the world. She was everything to me, Baird, and I promised her that I -would make good. I broke my word. It was the only thing that I had not -broken before. Well, my love for her did not check me. - -“But since that—that—murder,” he spoke now from deep in his chest, “I -have gripped myself; I have found myself. I am going to work up again, -Baird. I can,—I am on the up grade. I am sure of it. It is a hard -struggle, but the fight of it makes it all the more worth while. It will -be hard, and it will take time; but I can do it.” - -Radlett stared out of the window for a few moments, as though deeply -absorbed in watching a passing carriage. Letting his eyes travel back to -Loring, he asked: “Did you ever hear of the Kay mine? I think that it was -situated near where you were last working.” - -Stephen nodded. He was relieved at the change from the tenseness of the -conversation, and a little ashamed of the emotion which he had shown. -“Yes,” he answered, “it was only fifteen or twenty miles from Quentin. -An English syndicate bought it some time ago. They brought out polo -ponies, dog-carts, and heaven knows what besides, to gladden their hearts -while in exile. I rode there only a few weeks ago, and looked over the -place. The mine has been shut down for a year. It is a wonder that they -were ever able to open it in the first place, with all the nonsense that -they had. A man whom I saw there told me that the English managers had -spent two days in arguing where to put the ‘baths in the houses of the -tenantry.’ I hear that the mine has just been sold again.” - -Radlett grinned from ear to ear at the thought of the effect on the -community of a remark about the “tenantry.” - -“Still,” went on Loring, “almost everybody says that it is a very rich -property, and would have paid well if it had only been worked properly. -The indications were very good for a big vein.” - -Radlett beat a tattoo with his fingers on the arms of his chair. - -“I have just bought the mine,” he said. - -Stephen looked at him in surprise. - -“I thought,” he said, “that you were only interested in railroads.” - -“That is true; but this is a sort of ‘flyer.’ I had the chance to buy the -property very cheaply, and the expert whom I sent to look at it reported -it as good, if it were properly managed. I must get as manager a man whom -I can absolutely trust, as I shall have no time to supervise the work -personally. Stephen, will you take the position?” - -Loring sat up straight in his chair. - -“I am not the man for the place,” he said; “I know very little about -mining, and besides—” - -“Leave out the ‘besides’,” answered Radlett. “That is over with. I would -trust you now as soon as any man living. As for the knowledge of mining, -you will not require any. There is a good mine foreman there who can -attend to that. What I want is a man to organize and run the plant, to -make it a paying producer. It needs a man who understands men, more than -a man who understands mining. The ore is there. The men to get the ore -will be there; but there must be a head for the whole system. You know, -better than I do, that a new mine means a new community to be governed. -It needs a man who will see that for every copper cent that goes into the -ground, two copper cents come out, a man who will see that the machinery -which is ordered arrives on time. It needs a man who will pick the right -subordinates and will give them pride in their work. It needs a man who -will get the labor, and keep it there. That is what I want you for, -Steve. You can do the work. Now will you?” - -Two voices seemed to whisper in Loring. One was of pride, the other was -of pride in himself. The voice of pride whispered: “He is your friend, -and is offering this to you from charity.” The other voice, aggressive -and self-reliant, whispered: “You can do the work well. It needs a _man_, -and you are capable of doing it.” - -“Baird,” he said brokenly, “I will. I can’t thank you; it is far too big -a chance to be acknowledged by mere thanks. But I will do my best for -you, and if I fail, it will be because I am not a big enough man, and not -because I have not tried.” - -“The thanks will be from me to you, when the Kay is the biggest producer -in Pinal County,” responded Radlett. “If you do your best, it will be -the best that can be done. Don’t think that it is from friendship that -I offer you this. I always keep friendship and business apart, and I am -offering this to you because you are the man that I need.” Radlett took a -large leather covered note-book from his pocket. - -“Here are the details of the proposition,” he said, and for almost an -hour he read aloud a list of figures and estimates. Loring listened, -keenly alert, and questioned and criticised with an insight which -surprised Radlett, who several times looked up in approval at some -suggestion. When he had finished, he closed the book, and said: “The -acting manager will start you on your work. The mine was opened last -week, but everything there is still at sixes and sevens. When do you -think that you can start north?” - -“I will take the eleven o’clock train to-night,” answered Stephen, -decidedly, “only—” - -“By the way,” said Baird, in a matter of fact manner, “you had better -draw your first month’s salary in advance. There will be a great many -things that you need to get.” He wrote a check and gave it to Loring. -“They will cash this for us at the office. I shall telegraph to-night -to the mine, telling them to expect you; also to the company in Tucson, -telling them to honor your drafts.” - -Radlett rose and looked at his watch. “It is eight o’clock and I am as -hungry as a bear, and,” he added, with a twinkle in his eyes, “if you -can leave that house-party of yours, where the girls have such charming -umbrellas, we might dine together before you start.” - -They entered the dining-room, where the orchestra was playing gaily, -and settled themselves at a table glowingly lighted with candles under -softened shades. - -“Doesn’t this seem like old times, Steve?” said Radlett, while he carved -the big planked steak which they had ordered. Throughout the meal, time -and again the phrase: “Do you remember?” was repeated, recalling hosts -of memories, both sad and gay. The intimacy between Radlett and Loring -had been of such depth and woven with so many bonds that the years in -which they had been separated made no difference in their complete -companionship. They were not forced to fall back on the past on account -of lack of sympathy and mutual interest in the present, as is so often -the case; but rather they looked backward as one might open a much loved -book, the interest of which increases as the covers wear out, and in -which the delight is intensified when some congenial soul has shared its -moods, and its laughter. Through all the conversation, Radlett, with an -inborn tact unexpected in a man whose manner was so bluff, skilfully -recalled Stephen’s successes, and dwelt upon them in an endeavor to -raise that self-confidence in Loring which had been shaken to its core. -Stephen’s failures were recalled by Stephen himself, whose recollection -of them was undimmed though his perspective on them had changed. So -quickly did the time pass that it was with a start that they both heard -the clock in the hall outside strike ten, in a deliberate, impersonal -fashion. In answer to a question from Radlett, Loring shook his head. - -“No, I have no preparations to make. If the city with no history is -happy, then certainly the person with no possessions to bother him should -be content.” - -So they smoked in quiet companionship until it was time to leave for the -station. Baird saw Loring on board the train, and they parted after a -silent, firm handshake, which gave strength to one and conviction to the -other. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - - -In six months after Loring had taken charge, the Kay mine was producing -on a paying basis. What those six months had accomplished was little -short of marvelous. At the time of the arrival of the new manager, -everything had been in an extreme state of disorganization. Unused -machinery stood uncovered and rusting. The pumps were hardly more than -holding the water in the shafts. No new timbering had been put in place -to supplant the old, which was dangerously rotten. The costly electric -lighting plant had been almost ruined by neglect. Discord had been -reigning between the various heads of departments, and discord in a -community in which there is no recreation, and from which there is no way -of escape, is a dangerous element. - -When Loring had assumed control, in explanation of failures each worker -had murmured complaints of others. At the mess there had been gloomy -silence, in contrast to the joviality which had prevailed at the old -mess in Quentin. Distrusted and disliked, Loring had firmly pursued his -course until that course was justified, and the criticism and hatred had -turned to respect and admiration. He had worked night and day, attending -to everything himself. Loring was tireless in his enthusiasm, and he had -inspired the men under him to do their work better than they knew how. -The result was that by this time, the system of a well-built machine -had supplanted the previous chaos. And though it was far from a perfect -machine, each day was adding to its efficiency. - -The nervous irritability of the mess had been relieved by the arrival -of an old friend. One day Hop Wah had drifted into Stephen’s office -and after announcing solemnly: “Me canned, too,” had stood waiting -expectantly until Loring had ordered him installed as assistant cook in -the company eating-house. Within a week after this the meals had become -joyous occasions. Wah would dance from man to man as he served the -meals, murmuring insults which pleased even the insulted, and provoked -roars of laughter at the victim’s expense. When he had some particularly -bold insult to deliver, he would sing it from the kitchen window. The -singing lent impersonality and the distance safety. Soon the refrain and -interlude of his old song, “La, la, boom, boom,” were as well known, and -as popular in Kay, as they had been in Quentin. - -Radlett had told Loring that there would be much work for him to do, and -he had not been guilty of exaggeration. Night after night the electric -light beneath the green tin reflector in the office had burned until well -into the morning. Then a watcher might have seen it go out suddenly, -before a tired man turned the key in the office door. - -The increase of efficiency in the work at the Kay mine was due to one -thing,—the ceaseless vigilance of Stephen Loring, and the outward -circumstances were only the manifestation of the changed conditions -within himself. One who had known Loring, the failure, would scarcely -have recognized Loring, the success. The chin line no longer drooped, his -smile showed honest pride in the goodness of his work, his movements were -alert, his head thrown back. His skin was ruddy and his eyes clear, yet -the marks about his mouth showed traces of the struggle through which -he had passed, and there were new lines of care lying in furrows across -his forehead. He had aged under responsibility, and something of the old, -lazy charm which had endeared him to his friends was gone; but a stranger -looking at him would have appreciated at once that here was a man of -force, one who meant to be master, and who was fitted to be. - -It is possible that the change in his dress contributed as much as the -more subtle developments, for Loring, in his blue suit, soft white shirt, -and well-oiled tan boots, was a very different looking man from the -shabbily clothed wanderer who had sought work last year in Phœnix. - -On one autumn afternoon Stephen sat at the desk in his office, engaged -in dictating a report to the directors of the Company. Above the rattle -and click of the typewriter his voice rose and fell monotonously: “The -construction work alone is behind. Within the workings three new stopes -have been opened since last report, at positions marked on the enclosed -print. The ore in these has been running high, averaging”—(he paused -and glanced at the assayers’ report lying on the table beside him) -“averaging twelve per cent copper. If the contact vein continues to -run in its present direction, the ore from the new stopes which we are -opening may be reached cheaply by means of winzes from the three hundred -foot level.” Loring verified this carefully from the foreman’s report, -then nodded to the stenographer to proceed. “The cost of production has -been reduced five per cent in the last month. If the present favorable -prices for the coke continue, I hope to reduce this still more. I enclose -for the first time a detailed statement of expense distributed per -department, made possible by the new system of bookkeeping which has been -adopted.” Here he paused. “That is all for the present,” he said. - -Then he picked up the construction report and with a frown reread it. -“That is bad work,” he murmured. “With all the men whom Fitz had under -him, he should have done better, and accomplished more.” - -“Oh, Reade!” he called to the stenographer who had gone into the back -room, “come back here! I have something to add to that report.” - -The stenographer came in, and again took his place before the typewriter. - -“Owing to the slowness of the work on the exterior construction, I have -found it necessary to dispense with the services of Mr. Fitz.” - -Reade looked up in surprise. “Are you going to ‘can’ him?” - -Stephen made no answer, but continued to dictate: “I have secured the -services of a very good man, who until recently has been at the head of -that work in the Quentin Mining Company and who, I think, will fill the -position very satisfactorily.” “That is all, Reade.” - -The stenographer left the room, whistling softly. “He sure acts with -precision,” murmured Reade, as he closed the door. “When Fitz answered -back at mess the other night, I knew he’d get into trouble. The Boss -never speaks twice, and now that the men understand his ways, he don’t -need to.” - -A short half-hour after Loring had finished his letter the stage from the -northward drew up outside the office door, and a passenger descended from -it. Loring opened the window, looked out, and recognized his old friend -McKay. - -“Prompt as usual!” thought Loring. “I did not expect him until to-morrow -or the day after; but I like his coming so soon. Promptness means -efficiency.” - -Loring smiled when he heard McKay tell the driver to charge the trip to -the Company. “Mac has not much to learn of business methods in the west,” -Loring chuckled, as he hastened to resume his seat at the desk. A little -later he heard a thump, as McKay dropped his bag on the porch, and then -he heard him asking for the manager. Some one directed the stranger to -the office, and Loring heard the creak of his boots on the stairs. - -Stephen, for he had a streak of vanity in his nature, lighted a cigar, -and pretended to be very busy over some papers. After a moment he looked -up, to find McKay staring in such open-mouthed astonishment that it -seemed as if his teeth were in danger of falling back down his throat. - -“Well, I’ll be damned!” he finally ejaculated. “What are _you_ doing -here?” - -“I am the manager,” said Stephen in a dignified manner. Then he could -keep a sober face no longer, and burst into a laugh, in which McKay, -though in a dazed and uncertain manner, joined. - -Stephen jumped up from his chair and shook hands with his old boss. McKay -continued to swing his arm up and down, as though this grip were his one -hold upon the world of realities. - -“You! How on earth did it happen? You must have been a heap wiser than I -thought!” exclaimed McKay. - -The only danger of being thought wise is that one is tempted to prove it; -but Stephen safely avoided this danger. - -“Anyhow, Mac,” he answered, “here I am and here I hope I’ll remain, and -there is a lot of work for you to do here. Things have been allowed to -deteriorate to such an extent that it takes more time to rebuild than it -must have taken to construct the whole plant. Fortunately we have the -original plans designed by the people who had opened the mine, and though -they are no key to what has been done, they give a pretty good idea of -what was meant to be done.” As he spoke he pulled a roll of blue prints -out from the desk drawer, and drawing up a chair beside him for McKay, he -started to outline the work. - -As he watched the unerring way in which McKay’s clumsily shaped finger -followed the designs, stopping at each questionable point and rubbing -back and forth over it with the determined questioning of a hand -competent to remedy defects, Loring thanked heaven for the fact that the -Quentin Company, their rush of early work over, had parted with such a -man. The very twitching of the corners of McKay’s mustache, as he pored -over the papers, showed a personality teeming with success and energy. -After an hour of hard work Stephen pushed back his chair from the desk -and rolled up the prints. - -“I’m afraid, Mac,” he said, “that you are going to be very busy here. You -see I know how good a man you are. But I also realize that after your -journey you must eat, and that you will want to see your quarters.” - -He called Reade into the room and introduced him. “Take Mr. McKay and -show him where he is to live. Put him in that new shack on the right-hand -side of the road.” With a sudden recollection of McKay’s treatment of -him on that first night at Quentin, Stephen went on with a broad grin: -“To-night I will send you over some blankets. You can pay for them out -of your first month’s pay, and to-morrow I will let you have an old straw -hat of mine.” - -McKay smiled sheepishly, as he stood twirling his rusty black felt hat -in his fingers. Accustomed as he was to the sudden changes which Arizona -brings about in men’s fortunes, Loring’s meteoric rise was too great a -problem for him to solve. He could not adjust himself to the miraculous -change which had been wrought in the life of the man before him. He could -only stand speechless and gaze at the marvel, and then drop his eyes -again to the baggy knees of his best trousers. - -Stephen took pity on him in his bewilderment and interrupted his -reflections: “If you can start in to work after lunch, I will have Mr. -Fitz, the man who is leaving, show you what little he has done. You had -better take a microscope to see it with.” - -McKay followed Reade out of the office, his efficient, right-angled and -non-complex mind in a whirl. - -“_Steve Loring_, manager of the Kay mine! I certainly will be damned. -_Him_ running all this!” He gazed stupefied at the ordered confusion of -the busy camp before him. “_Steve Loring!_ Phew!” - -And all the time the man of whom McKay was thinking with admiring envy -sat before his desk, his head sunk upon his folded arms in an attitude of -profound dejection. - -To McKay, Loring seemed to have reached the highest level of the up grade -in being the manager of a successful mine. What more could any man wish? -But to Loring all that he had achieved was as nothing. - -The sight of McKay had brought back with photographic vividness all the -familiar things and scenes of the old days at Quentin,—the smelter, -the dip in the hills, the hoist, “_Muy Bueno_,” and then, in spite of -himself, above them all rose the face of Jean Cameron, Jean as she had -looked bending over his cot in the hospital with the sheaf of flowers -across her arm, Jean smiling at him as she passed the hoist, Jean -stretching out her hand to him on that never-to-be-forgotten ride through -the soft Arizona night. - -With a sudden pang he realized that all success would be as dust and -ashes unless he could bring it to her and say: “Whatever I have won, it -was all for you. My only pride is that whether you ever know it or not, -I have at last justified your faith in me. Oh, Jean,” he murmured, “it -is not success or power or money that I want. It is you, dear, you, you, -you!” - - - - -CHAPTER XV - - -At four o’clock that afternoon, since it was Saturday, the men were paid -off for the week. No pay day will ever be satisfactory to the recipients -until that happy state of affairs is reached when each man himself -decides on the amount which is due him. Even then there will be some who -will leave the pay-window with the discontented feeling that they have -cheated themselves. - -The bookkeeper, from his grated window, gave out the pay checks to the -line of Mexican laborers who, displaying their brass number tags, passed -before him. He kept up a running fire of argument. Over and over he was -obliged to explain the amounts of the checks. - -“The mess bill comes out of you.” - -“You had twenty dollars’ worth of coupons at the store.” - -“No, you only worked five days this week.” - -“Hospital fee is twenty-five cents.” - -These were fair samples of the innumerable arguments which he -was compelled to go through with every week. And in spite of all -explanations, the poor miners would walk away from the window, looking -with dejected, unbelieving eyes at the small figures of their checks. Men -of this class can never realize that if out of wages of ninety dollars a -month they spend seventy-five for food and store coupons, the balance due -to them is not ninety dollars, but fifteen. - -As usual on pay day afternoon, in the road before the office, little -groups of men were arguing excitedly among themselves, discussing -the manner in which they were “cheated.” The dejected droop of their -shoulders was accentuated by the quick, jerky movements of their arms as -they gesticulated. - -Knowlton, the deputy sheriff, who was assigned to Kay, sat on the steps -before the office door. He was rolling a cigarette, seemingly unconscious -of the noisy crowd. But pay day was always likely to cause trouble, and -he was prepared for it. - -[Illustration: “No one quite dared to lead an attack upon Knowlton, who -stood his ground beside the body.” _Page 241_] - -The group of excited men augmented fast, as little knots of miners -were paid off, and found awaiting them a willing audience of their -grievances. A word will fire a crowd of this kind as quickly as a fuse -will set off a charge of giant powder. - -Knowlton watched them closely, out of the corner of his eye. He saw one -of the leaders in the discussion stoop down and pick up a large rock. - -“Hey, Rigas! Drop that, quick!” he shouted. - -For answer the rock crashed through the glass of the office window. - -Knowlton waded into the midst of the crowd, and seized Rigas by the -collar, almost hurling him off his feet. His rough tactics generally -overawed his prisoners, but Rigas had been drinking, and fought. The -crowd began to close in. - -Knowlton dropped his hand to the point where the suspenders joined his -belt and whipped out his “automatic.” Raising it in the air, he swung -it down with all his strength upon Rigas’s head. There was a stunning -report, and the miner lay upon the ground, with a hole two inches wide -through his forehead. The crowd, muttering angry curses, drew back. No -one quite dared to lead an attack upon Knowlton, who stood his ground -beside the body, his still smoking gun in his hand. The camp doctor came -up on the run, having heard the sound of the report. Kneeling beside the -body, he gave short and incisive directions. - -“Valrigo, Peres, Gonzales, and Escallerra; you four carry him over to the -hospital!” - -The four men whom he had designated bent over and clumsily raised the -inanimate body. - -“No, no,” said the doctor, “don’t let his head hang back. Here, -Valencella! Come and hold up his head. That is right. Now slowly with -him, boys; easy, don’t jolt him!” - -The doctor walked beside the bearers, his hand on Rigas’s heart, which -for a wonder was still beating. Behind them fell in a sullen, straggling, -pushing procession of the other men, watching the blood drip from Rigas’s -head. - -Then Knowlton turned, and walked slowly into the office. As he entered, -the volume of curses changed from a mutter to a roar. He found Loring on -his knees, locking the combination of the safe. - -“Well, Mr. Loring, I’ve done it now. I’ve killed Rigas. These damned -automatics! You can beat a man over the head for a week with a Colt -without its going off.” - -“Too bad!” said Stephen calmly, rising from his knees. “But the character -of Rigas was not such that he will be a great loss to the world. He was -always causing some sort of mischief.” - -“It ain’t Rigas that I am worrying about,” said the deputy. “It’s the -rest of them.” - -“How long can you hold them in check?” asked Stephen. - -“If they were sober, I could hold them until hell froze, but they have -just been paid off, and by night they will all be drunk. Then there will -be trouble. It has been brewin’ for a week. Some agitator chap has been -talking it up to them about the way the Company was stealing from them. I -don’t jest know what we had better do,” he concluded, while he fingered -his gun nervously, and looked to Loring for guidance. - -“Rigas is dead, you said?” asked Stephen. - -“Well, not exactly. He might as well be, though. A forty-five calibre -hole through your head ain’t healthy. If he ain’t dead now, he won’t -live more than a few hours. And when he does die—!” Knowlton broke off -gloomily. - -“What are you going to do about it, Mr. Loring?” - -“We can only wait,” answered Loring. “We must not let them see that we -are anxious.” - -“Ain’t you going to do _nothing_?” Knowlton looked at Loring in perfect -amazement. - -Stephen smiled, and shook his head. “No, I am going to supper. I would -advise you to eat at the mess to-night, instead of at your shack. I am -afraid that at present you are not exactly popular.” - -He walked off towards the eating-house, while Knowlton stood looking -after him blankly. - -“He don’t realize that in about three hours after those men get to -drinking, the Kay mine won’t exist. If we had a real man in charge here, -we might do something about it. He thinks, I suppose, that because the -men like him there won’t be trouble. Hell! and I used to think he had -sense!” Knowlton almost snorted in his rage. - -At supper every man was keyed to a high pitch of excitement. There were -only about twenty white men in camp, and though they were well armed, -the Mexicans outnumbered them more than fifteen to one. Stephen alone -refrained from joining in the flurry of question and conjecture which -whirled about the table. Although he seemed unmoved, a close observer -would have noticed that he gripped his knife and fork almost as if they -had been weapons. Wah slid his plate of soup before him, at the same time -patting him on the shoulder with affectionate interest. - -“Me bludder like one owl,” he said. - -“Hey, Wah, this soup is rotten!” called a young fellow from the end of -the table. - -“Oh, lubbly, lubbly soup!” chanted Wah. “Lubbly, me bludder, lubbly.” - -“I’m not your bludder, Wah,” answered the man politely. “I would rather -have an ape for a brother than you.” - -“You me bludder, allee samee, allee samee.” Saying which, Wah disappeared -into the kitchen, only to stick his head a moment later through the -connecting window, and call: “Oh, you pig-faced Swede, Oh, you pig-faced -Swede! La, la, boom, boom!” - -But even Wah was unable to break the tension that surrounded the supper. -As the men were lighting their pipes at the close of the meal, from -the gulch behind the camp where were the saloons, came the sound of a -fusillade of shots and a burst of shrill yelling. - -“The game is on,” thought Loring. - -As the noise outside became louder, Stephen said to the men: “I want all -you fellows to get your guns and go over into the office to guard the -safe. Go as quietly as you can so as not to stir things up. Keep quiet in -there and don’t shoot unless you are compelled to. We have just issued -some new stock, and if there is news of any fighting here the value will -go all to pieces. We must just wait, and keep quiet. Remember a fight -means almost ruin, and we have got to avoid it.” - -Knowlton looked quickly over to McKay, and nodded. Both were experienced -men, and they knew that now was no time to think of stock values, but -of actually saving the mine, and the lives of the white men there. They -knew that serious trouble was intended, as since the shooting, every -outlet of the camp had been guarded by Mexicans. They knew that the only -chance, not for avoiding a fight, but for avoiding a massacre, lay in -an immediate attack on the Mexicans, before they were completely out of -hand. And Loring was thinking of stock values! Still, they remembered -that he was inexperienced, and they set down to indecision what seemed -like criminal folly. As for McKay, he had known Loring to fall once -before, and he was not hopeful for the outcome. - -“Knowlton,” continued Loring, “you had better stay here with me. It won’t -do for the miners to think that you are hidden.” - -“Well, I won’t be,” exclaimed Knowlton decisively. “There is only one -thing in this world that I am afraid of, and that is a fool!” - -The men hurried to their tents to procure their firearms. From the window -of the mess Stephen watched them, as one by one they returned and slipped -into the darkened office. Then he stepped out on the porch, and seated -himself beneath the full glare of the hanging electric light. Knowlton, -with a dogged expression on his face, seated himself on the steps. -Another man came and joined them. It was McKay. - -“Let me stay here with you, Steve,” he said gruffly. - -“Thank you!” replied Stephen. Then he relapsed into silence. - -Sitting with his watch beside him on the arm of the chair, and smoking -furiously, his eye traveled to Knowlton, and dwelt on the brown oiled -butt of the latter’s “automatic,” an odd-shaped lump against the white of -his shirt. - -“That was the first time I ever killed a man by accident,” murmured -Knowlton, half to himself. “The Doc said after supper that Rigas might -possibly live another hour.” - -“An hour, did you say?” asked Loring. Then again he sat in silence, -staring intently at his watch. - -“Quarter past eight. He has lived more than an hour since supper.” - -From the valley, seven miles away, came softly the whistle of the evening -train. The noise in camp was continually increasing in volume. Groups of -miners went by the mess shouting, singing, and whooping derisively. Every -now and then the babel of voices was punctuated by shots fired in rapid -succession as some one emptied his gun in the air. - -By the hospital a silent group was waiting, waiting for Rigas to die. - -The men on the porch watched that sinister mass with apprehension. The -effect was far more suggestive than that of the noisier portion of the -camp. - -Suddenly the mass of men by the hospital stirred, heaved, and moved. From -a hundred throats came a dull roar. - -“Rigas is dead,” said Loring, shutting his watch with a snap. - -The crowd of men by the hospital began to roll towards the mess. As a -huge swell rolls in from the sea, so the black mass, swaying, rising, -falling, swept on. As it drew nearer, the white of the men’s faces stood -out in the glare of the electric lights even as the foam upon that wave. - -“Put out the porch lights!” yelled Knowlton. - -“I am manager here, and they stay lit,” shouted Loring back to him. - -Even as the surf curls before breaking and sweeping up the beach, so the -wave of men seemed to rise and draw itself together, before surging up -the steps. - -Stephen had stepped forward to the edge of the steps in front of -Knowlton. He raised his fist for silence, and such was the compelling -force in his eyes that for a moment he was obeyed. But as he started to -speak, a great hiss arose from the crowd, like the sound of escaping -steam from some giant locomotive. Loring gripped the railing of the porch -hard, and again shouted something. - -“God, he’s crazy!” yelled Knowlton to McKay. “He is going to try and -argue.” Knowlton’s hand lay tightly on the gun in his belt. - -“Steve has lost his head again,” thought McKay bitterly. “I might have -known that he didn’t have the stuff in him.” - -A bottle whizzed by Loring’s ear, breaking with a crash against the -wall behind him. For an instant the sound of breaking glass caught the -attention of the crowd. - -“You want the money in the safe?” shouted Loring. - -“_Sí_, _sí_, yes, _sí_, yes, _sí_!” roared the crowd, in a mixture of two -languages. - -The sound lulled for a second. Stephen waved his keys in the air. “You -shall have it.” - -The shouting was wilder than before, and echoed from end to end of the -camp. - -“Coward!” moaned McKay, sickened by such an exhibition. Some one in the -crowd fired at Loring, luckily with drunken aim. The bullet kicked up -the dust at the foot of the steps. Knowlton jumped to his feet, and -leveled his gun at the crowd. - -“Sit down!” roared Stephen. Not knowing why he did so, Knowlton lowered -his gun and sank again into his chair. - -“Do you want Knowlton?” shouted Loring, pointing to the deputy beside -him. As he spoke, he glanced at his watch, which lay in his hand. His -face was reeking with sweat. - -“Do you want Knowlton?” he shouted again. - -The howl that went up from the mob was as if from the throats of -blood-hungry beasts. - -Knowlton’s face was white; but his eyes showed their scorn of Loring. He -looked at him in contempt, and looking, to his surprise, saw the tense -lines of his face light with the gleam of victory. - -“You want Knowlton?” he shouted for the last time. “Then come and take -him!” - -As the mob surged up the steps, a body of horsemen charged them fiercely -from behind. Right and left galloped the riders, beating the mob over the -heads with their Winchesters, or cutting them with their quirts, riding -down men beneath the weight of their horses. The mob scattered and fled -in every direction. The leader of the horsemen swung out of the saddle in -front of the steps, and Winchester in hand, walked up to Loring. - -“Are you Mr. Loring?” he asked. - -“Yes,” answered Stephen. - -“Well, it seems as if we were just in time—not much too early, are we? We -just got your telegram in Dominion in time to raise a big posse, and pack -them onto the evening train. It was about the liveliest job that I ever -did, and I reckon it is one of the best,” said the sheriff, surveying the -scene with satisfaction. “How did the trouble start anyhow?” he asked. - -Stephen explained rapidly. At the conclusion, the sheriff turned to -Knowlton: “Killed him by accident, eh? Too bad you didn’t have the -pleasure of meaning to. Now I guess we’d better clean up the camp a bit, -hadn’t we, Mr. Loring?” - -Stephen agreed, and the sheriff sent his deputies in groups of twos and -threes, to raid the tents of the Mexicans, and gather in their arms. - -Knowlton approached Loring in a stupefied manner. - -“When could you have telegraphed?” he asked. “They have been guarding the -roads ever since the shooting.” - -Stephen smiled. “When you jumped into that crowd, Knowlton, I sent Reade -out through the back window of the office to send a telegram for help, -and to get horses for them ready at the station camp.” - -A light broke over McKay’s face. Walking up to Loring, he laid his hand -on his shoulder. - -“By God, Steve, I am proud of you!” he said. Then turning to the arc -light which hung from the ceiling of the porch, he addressed it softly: -“And _that’s_ the man we fired!” - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - - -In the middle of the following September, Radlett arrived in Tucson from -the East. He was on his way to pay his first visit to his property in -Kay, since Stephen had taken charge. As he signed his name on the hotel -register, his eye was caught by the names of the arrivals of the day -before. - -“Donald Cameron.” - -“Miss Cameron.” - -A flush came to his cheeks and a light to his eyes as he looked steadily -at the page. Strange what power a written word may have to stir a man to -the depths of his being! As Radlett read the names, he felt the years -slip away from him. Five, six years was it since that summer at Bar -Harbor when he and Jean Cameron had climbed together about the cliffs of -the spouting horn or, staff in hand, had explored Duck Brook or floated -idly in his canoe around the islands in the harbor? Like Loring he had -dreamed his dream of what might be. By the end of the summer he knew it -was only a dream of what might have been. He carried away with him an -ideal, an aching heart, and a knot of ribbon of the Cameron plaid. But -he was a man of too much force and energy to spend his life in bewailing -the past. He had shut the knot of ribbon in a secret drawer, set the -ideal in a shrine, and flung his heart into business with such success -that to-day, while he was still a young man, he was already a power to be -reckoned with in the financial world, while a golden career opened ahead -of him. - -A man so loyal in his friendship could not be other than loyal in his -love; but he had put the possibility of winning Jean Cameron definitely -out of his mind, and he would have sworn that the years had reduced the -fever of his feeling to a genial tranquillity of friendship, when now at -the very sight of her name on a hotel register, all his philosophy was -put to flight and he was conscious only of a burning desire to see her -once more. - -Being a man of action, he wasted no time on reminiscence; but inquired in -quick incisive terms whether Mr. Cameron and his daughter were still at -the hotel. Learning that they were, he sent up his card. Then he lighted -a cigarette and walked the floor of the lobby, smoking nervously till the -bell-boy returned to say that Mr. Cameron would be glad to receive him in -his private sitting-room. Before following the boy, Radlett stopped at -the desk to arrange for his room and get his key. - -“How good a room do you wish, sir, and how long will you stay?” - -“The best you have, and as long as I choose,” Radlett answered with -characteristic brevity. A moment later he stood before the door of the -Camerons’ sitting-room, which opened at his knock to reveal Mr. Cameron’s -bristling red head in the foreground, and in the background a figure in a -traveling dress of gray cloth, with a hat to match and a knot of plaided -ribbon under the brim. - -At sight of Radlett, Jean rose, smiling, but with a slight consciousness -in her manner, a consciousness resulting from the remembrance of a -painful scene, the hope that the man before her had quite forgiven and -the slighter hope, a mere faint ashamed shadow of a hope, that he had not -quite forgotten. - -Her mind must have been quickly set at rest on that point, for such -a rush of feeling swept over Radlett that he could scarcely make his -greetings intelligible. Mr. Cameron gave him a firm grip, and Jean held -out a gray gloved hand which Radlett clasped tremulously. Mr. Cameron -looked at the man and girl as they stood talking together, and the longer -he looked the better he liked the combination. - -“There would be a son-in-law to be proud of,” he thought, naturally -enough perhaps considering him in that relation first. “Baird Radlett -has everything that a girl could ask,—a hard head, a long purse, a free -hand and an endless stock of common sense. And then, if I had him to help -me, what a property I could build up! He used to seem devoted to Jean. -But she could not have refused him—no, and by heaven she should not.” -(Mr. Cameron liked to keep up even to himself the illusion that he was a -tyrannical parent whose will was law.) “Rather different this man from -Loring! Jean must see that. If she does not, she must be made to see it. -I was afraid at one time that she might be foolish enough to fall in love -with Loring; but I took it in time—I took it in time. Yet she is too -efficient not to make some one big mistake in her life. We Camerons all -do it sooner or later. If it is not one thing it is another—misdirected -energy, I suppose—” Then aloud, in answer to a question from Radlett as -to how he happened to be in that part of the world: “Why, about a year -and a half ago I became interested in a mine in Arizona which was not -being run properly, and so for the present I am giving up my time to -managing it myself.” - -“And have you too become a mining engineer?” Radlett asked of Jean. - -“Not quite,” she laughed. - -“Jean came rather near it at first,” added her father; “but I think that -now she is half tired of the life out here. It has not the charm for her -that it had at first.” - -“I should think not!” exclaimed Radlett emphatically. “Do you mean that -you have spent a whole year out in the hills here?” he asked Jean. - -“Yes,” she answered. “This trip marks the first time that I have been -back to the East since last fall; but I have not yet become such a savage -that I can dispense with afternoon tea. I hope you will join us,” she -added. - -“Yes, with thanks,” Radlett answered. Up to this moment he had never -found any use for Tucson. Now he discovered that it existed to hold a -tea-table and Jean Cameron. - -“What brings you to Tucson, Baird?” she asked, while the waiter laid the -cloth. - -“I am in the mining business myself, in a small way,” he rejoined. “Last -year I bought a property in Pinal County on speculation. I am going up -to visit it now for the first time. I do not really need to go. In fact -I shall probably do more harm than good. I have a manager up there who -has accomplished wonders. He has made the mine pay in six months after he -took control. As far as I can learn, he has done practically everything -himself, from mining the ore to putting it on the cars. I bought the mine -at a big risk, and now it is about the most satisfactory investment that -I own.” - -“I wish that I had such a man to put in charge of Quentin. When I am not -there the whole plant seems to go to pieces.” - -“Quentin!” exclaimed Radlett in surprise. “Is that the name of your -property?” - -“It is,” said Mr. Cameron. “Why? Had you ever heard of it?” - -Radlett opened his lips to speak; but the arrival of the tea turned the -subject of conversation for the moment. As he watched Jean pouring the -tea all thoughts of mines and business vanished from Radlett’s mind. He -wondered how he had ever existed throughout the years in which he had not -seen her. - -While Jean Cameron talked to Radlett, she glanced at him over her teacup -with that interest which a girl naturally bestows upon a man who might -have been a part of her life had she so willed it. In the past year the -standards by which she judged men had changed considerably. She had much -more regard for the qualities of steadiness and determination which Baird -possessed than she had felt at the time when she refused him. From her -widened experiences she had learned that ability without reliability was -useless. Perhaps, too, now that disappointment in her new surroundings -had set in, she looked back with more tenderness upon those who had -peopled her life in the East. - -The talk ranged over many scenes and people familiar to them all, then -gradually drifted to the plans of each for the future. Baird’s mind had -been working fast. Seeing Jean for an hour had made him wish to see her -for many more hours, and by the time that he had finished his second cup -of tea, he had evolved a plan by which he hoped to achieve that end. If -he could persuade Mr. Cameron, when on his way to Quentin, to stop over -at Kay, and to make an expert report on the property, it would enable -him to have at least a week more with Jean. Turning to Mr. Cameron, he -approached him on the subject. - -“I wish very much that I could persuade you to stop over and examine -my property for me. If you had the time I should greatly value your -professional opinion.” - -“Where is your mine situated?” - -“At Kay,” answered Radlett. “I think it is on the direct route to -Quentin.” - -“So you are the man who bought that property. I had not heard who owned -it.” - -“Yes,” said Baird. “Now do you think that you could possibly spare four -or fives days to investigate the place for me?” - -“I do not know whether I can possibly spare the time,” reflected Mr. -Cameron, half aloud. If it had been any man besides Radlett, Mr. Cameron -would have refused at once, as he had for some time given up all such -work. But he was glad to do a favor to Baird, and also he felt that he -would like to have him and Jean thrown together for a while. “Still -I can get in touch with Quentin, and if they need me there I can get -there at short notice. Yes, I think that I can take the time. I shall be -interested to see how the mine is doing with this wonderful new manager -of yours. Frankly, it never used to be much good.” - -“Don’t be discouraging, Father!” said Jean. “You might at least be an -optimist until you have seen Baird’s mine.” - -“If your father should be a pessimist after seeing it, I should certainly -give up the mine, I have such respect for his judgment.” - -Mr. Cameron expanded under the compliment. “By the way, did you not have -a big riot or something up there this spring? I read about it, I think, -in the Eastern papers. They said that there had been a race riot in Kay -which, but for the coolness and nerve of the manager, would have been a -desperate outbreak.” - -“Yes, there was a desperate state of affairs,” answered Radlett, and he -proceeded to give an account of the riot, the details of which he had -learned through a postscript added by Reade to one of Loring’s reports. -When he reached the part of the story which told how the manager had -held the mob at bay until the arrival of the deputies, both Jean and -her father exclaimed with approval. Jean’s eyes were shining with the -enthusiasm which she always felt for a brave act well carried out. - -“And,” said Radlett in conclusion, “since then there has not been a hint -of trouble in the camp. In fact a labor agitator came up there last -month, and the men themselves ran him out of camp.” - -“You certainly have a wonderful man there,” said Mr. Cameron. “If I had -chanced upon him first, you would never have had him. If there is one -thing on which I pride myself, it is my power to read character at first -sight. I should have snapped up a man like that in no time. What is his -name?” - -“His name,” said Radlett, “is Stephen Loring.” He watched Mr. Cameron -closely as he uttered the name, and was amused to see the expression of -blank dismay and astonishment upon that gentleman’s face. - -“Loring! Stephen Loring!” cried Mr. Cameron, completely taken aback. - -“Stephen Loring,” repeated Radlett doggedly. - -“Why, we dismissed him from Quentin for—” - -“Father, don’t!” ejaculated Jean suddenly. Her cheeks burned, while her -eyes pleaded with her father to spare Loring’s past. Radlett looked at -her with a quick glance of appreciation. - -“It is all right, Jean,” he said. “Loring told me all about it himself.” - -“He told you,” queried Mr. Cameron incredulously, “about the accident, -about his drunkenness and all; and after that you put him in charge of -the mine? How could you?” - -“I believed in him,” replied Radlett quietly, “and he has justified my -belief. I have known him all my life, and I trust and respect him.” - -“You say that he has made good with you?” inquired Mr. Cameron sharply. - -“He has.” - -Mr. Cameron was a man of honest enthusiasms, but of equally honest -hatreds. When man had once failed him, he was loath to believe that there -could be good in him. - -“I hope you will find that he keeps it up,” was all that he said. He did -not say it with complimentary conviction, either. - -“He will,” Radlett answered shortly. - -Jean was moved by Baird’s faithful defense of his friend. - -“It is characteristic of you to stand by him as you have done,” she said, -“and if ever a man needed a good friend, it was Mr. Loring.” - -“You knew him well?” asked Radlett, with surprise. From what Loring had -told him of his position in camp, he had not imagined that he would know -Miss Cameron personally at all. - -“He saved my life,” answered Jean. Her voice was soft, but there was a -hint of challenge in the glance that she sent toward her father. - -“Saved your life!” ejaculated Radlett. “He never said anything to me -about that. Just like him! He told me only of his failures.” - -“You have known him all your life. What was he?” asked Mr. Cameron. -“Another case of a worthless fellow whom every one liked?” - -“He never was worthless,” said Baird. “Only until now he never showed -what he was worth, and never was there a man whom his friends loved so -much, to whom they forgave so much, and from whom they continued to hope -so much.” - -“He took a peculiar way of showing his worth with me,” remarked Mr. -Cameron. “Really now, Radlett, killing men by your carelessness is a -pretty serious thing. And from what I can gather, I judge that for the -past few years his life has been far from creditable; that he has been -getting into trouble of some sort all the time. His record shows that he -has been permanently inefficient and frequently drunk.” - -“Yes, it is all true,” answered Baird, “but in all those years he was -being hammered and forged, and in the end the experience has strengthened -him. The things that he has gone through, even the wrong things which he -has done, all have molded his character, and for the better. It was a big -risk, a big chance, but by it the metal in him has been turned to steel.” - -“Is not that rather an expensive process by which to obtain a product -like Loring?” asked Mr. Cameron dryly. - -“I hope very much that when you see what Loring has done at Kay, you will -change your mind,” said Radlett. “I understand of course what you must -feel about him; but I think that he has wiped his slate clean. If two -lives were lost through him at Quentin, by preventing a fight at Kay he -has saved twenty.” - -“Not to mention saving my life,” added Jean, rising. - -“That alone should extenuate everything,” said Radlett earnestly. - -He looked after Jean as she left the room to dress for dinner, admiring -her proud, erect carriage, and devoutly thankful that he should have -several days in which to be with her. - -When she had gone, the two men resumed their seats, and proceeded to -discuss the plans and business arrangements for Mr. Cameron’s prospective -visit to Kay. But even while he was talking, Mr. Cameron’s decision -in regard to the visit was wavering, and later, as he went upstairs, -he shook his head and said to himself: “No, I can’t do it. Under the -circumstances that visit is an impossibility.” - -That night, when they had come upstairs from dinner, he went to Jean’s -door and knocked. - -“Jean,” he called. - -“Yes, Father.” - -“Can you come into my sitting-room? I want to talk with you.” - -They returned to his sitting-room, and Jean seated herself while her -father walked slowly up and down the room. - -“I have been thinking about our going with Baird up to his mine. I told -him that we would go; but if this fellow Loring is the manager there, I -do not think that we can. I shall tell Baird that we find it impossible.” - -“Why?” asked Jean, although she well knew the reason. - -“Why?” echoed her father irritably. “Do you remember the insulting letter -which he wrote to me after my offer of help to him at Dominion? Do you -think it would be a pleasure to meet him again with that letter in mind?” - -“You never told me what you wrote in your letter to him,” replied Jean, -parrying the question. - -“I offered him work in the north because I said we were under obligation -to him for saving—That is, to repay my debt to him.” - -“I suppose that you made no conditions?” - -“Only that he should never cross our path again,” responded her father. -“Of course I felt bound to tell him what I thought of him.” - -“In other words,” exclaimed Jean with spirit, “you insulted him, and now -are angry that he was gentleman enough to refuse your offer. When he -was practically starving, as Baird told me he was, he refused to take -advantage of an unwilling obligation. Is that why you do not want to go -to Kay?” There was pride in the quiver of her nostrils, and pity in her -eyes, as she spoke. - -Mr. Cameron, like many strong men, was at a disadvantage in an argument -with his daughter. Her strength of will was as great as his, and with it -she combined an intuitive knowledge of whither to direct her questions, -as a good fencer instinctively knows the weak points in his opponent’s -defense. - -“You are trying to put me in the wrong, Jean,” said her father testily, -“but the fact remains that we cannot go.” - -“The fact remains, Father, that you owe it to yourself to go, not only -because you have promised Baird” (here she scored a strong point, for the -keeping of his word was her father’s great pride), “but because you owe -it to Mr. Loring to atone for the wrong that you did him.” - -Mr. Cameron was in a quandary. On the one side was his desire not to see -Loring again or to have Jean meet him; on the other was the fact that -he had promised Radlett and that he wished to have him and Jean thrown -together. With his usual bluntness he asked his daughter: “Jean, have you -thought much of Loring since he left Quentin?” - -“A great deal, Father.” - -“Often?” - -“Very often.” - -“Damn me! I was afraid of it. But you may as well understand now that I -absolutely forbid your thinking of him any more.” - -“Be careful, Father, that you do not add to my real interest the -fictitious one of defiance which has always been strong in the Cameron -blood. What I have been thinking all these months about Mr. Loring is -that he is a man to whom we are under deep obligation, and one to whom -you have been unjust.” - -“I thought,” said Mr. Cameron helplessly, and foolishly allowing his -attack to be changed to defense, “that I had done everything possible -for Loring. I do not wish to be thought ungrateful to any man; but that -letter—” - -Jean was touched and coming over to her father, put her arms around him -saying: “Can’t you see, Father dear, that the letter he sent to you was -the only one which a gentleman could write under the circumstances.” - -“Perhaps so, perhaps,” answered Mr. Cameron. “And anyhow,” he went on -rather weakly, “I have promised Baird, and Jean, I want you to see more -of him. He is, I think, of all the men whom I know, the best and the most -trustworthy. He told me that some time ago you refused to marry him.” - -“Yes,” said Jean. - -“Have you ever changed at all? Do you not like him better than you did? -He is the man of all others whom I should rather see you marry.” - -“I always liked him and I like him better than ever now,” replied Jean, -with her usual frankness. “Only it would take me at least a week to fall -in love with him,” she added laughing, as she kissed her father and bade -him good night. - -That evening she sat up until it was late, thinking. She had begun to -see life in the West rather differently since her first rose-colored -impressions. She was beginning to realize the facts that her father had -quoted to her. The shoddiness of that life had begun to make itself felt. -She had believed in Loring with all the trust to which a reserved nature -yields itself when it becomes impetuous, and his complete failure had -been a deep shock to her. She had not forgotten him, however, though, -had she analyzed her thoughts, she would have been puzzled to know why -he had not passed from her memory. Now that he was to be brought into -her life again, her thought of him grew deeper and more personal. She -opened her trunk and drew out of it her journal of the past year. For an -hour she sat reading over the pages, and there were certain pages which -she reread. When she closed the book it was close to midnight. She sat -staring out of the window, thinking, wondering. The light in her eyes -was like the harbor lights veiled by night mist to the mariner homeward -bound,—now flashing clear and lambent, now dim, brilliant with the -seaward flash or soft in the afterglow. - -At length she rose as one tired of thinking; but as she brushed out the -long waves of her hair she hummed softly the old refrain: - - “Young Frank is chief of Errington - And lord o’ Langly Dale— - His step is first in peaceful ha’ - His sword in battle keen— - But aye she let the tears doon fa’ - For Jock o’ Hazeldean.” - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - - -In the weeks which followed the settling of the trouble in the camp, -Kay flourished and grew. Great trainloads of supplies were daily dumped -on the platform of the railway station, to be checked off and sorted, -before the final haul up to camp. The old rough road to the station had -become hard and smooth by the continual pounding of the heavy, six-mule -wagons. Under McKay’s master direction, the framework bridges on the -route had been replaced by substantial structures. Wherever a cañon or -gulch opened, sluice boxes had been buried beneath the road surface, so -that a heavy rain no longer meant washouts and consequent stoppage of -coke and supplies. The coke teams struggled back to the railroad almost -as heavily laden with matt, as on the upward trip they had been with -coke. Each day saw new framework houses built, and new families settling -their possessions. Wagons were driven into camp laden with battered -stoves, broken chairs, a stray dog or two, and in general the household -belongings of new settlers; for the growth of the “lilies of the field” -is as nothing compared with that of a prosperous mining camp. Each day -the office was filled with men clamoring for lumber: “Only a little, -Boss! Just to put in a flooring. We can get along with two boards on the -sides. Anything just so as we can get settled.” And Loring sat behind -his desk, speaking with kindly but evasive words, telling each that the -Company longed to build him a perfect palace, but that under the present -conditions he must wait. - -For fast as lumber was hauled into camp, still faster came the need -for it for mine timbering, for storehouses, and for a thousand and one -necessities. The construction work had been rushed to completion. The -huge new ore cribs were a triumph of McKay’s ingenuity, built by a clever -system of bracing from the unseasoned lumber that had been at hand, and -supporting with perfect safety the enormous strain to which they were -subjected. The Company was rapidly becoming the controlling factor in the -copper output of the district. - -It was the time for the arrival of the evening mail and the office was -full of men and tobacco smoke. McKay had pre-empted the safe and sat on -the top of it, clanking his heels against the sides. His sandy colored -hair matched the color of the pine boards of the wall against which he -was propped. The draughting tables carried their load of men, as did each -of the well-worn chairs, and the three-legged stool. A babel of voices -prevailed. Every now and then Reade opened the door from the back office, -and poking his head into the room with a disgusted expression upon his -face, called out: “Soft pedal there, soft pedal! How in hell can a man do -any work with you fellows raising such a racket?” - -Stephen, as usual sat at his roll-top desk in the corner, his feet up on -the slide, both hands in his pockets, the while he rocked his pipe gently -up and down in his teeth. One of the clerks was telling with becoming -modesty of his social triumphs in Phœnix at the “Elks” ball. The audience -listened with the listless attention of those whose curiosity hangs heavy -on their hands. - -“I was the candy kid, all right,” remarked the narrator. - -His fervid discourse was interrupted by a drawl from some one in the -background. “I reckon that some time you must have drunk copiouslike of -the Hassayampeh River.” - -A machinery drummer who was in the office cocked up his ears, thinking -that perhaps behind the allusion lay a doubtful story. - -“What’s that about the river?” he asked. “I never heard of that.” - -“Why, they say,” answered the first speaker, “that whoever drinks of the -Hassayampeh River can’t ever tell the truth again so long as he lives.” - -“And also,” added McKay; “that no matter where he drifts to, he is sure -to wander back again to the old territory; that he’ll die in Arizona.” - -“How was that story ever started?” Loring asked. - -“The valley of the Hassayampeh was one of the first trails into the -ore country,” answered McKay, “and the lies that emanated from the -camps along that river was of such a fearful, godless and prize package -variety that they made the old river famous. There was a fellow in camp -here only the other day was telling me about prospectin’ down there -in seventy-three. He said all they had to eat was fried Gila monster. -I guess that was after he’d drunk the water though,” finished McKay -reflectively. - -“The territory sure has gone off since those days,” said a cattleman who -had ridden into camp for his mail. “Only last year down near Roosevelt I -shot two Mexicans, and say, it cost me a hundred dollars for negligence,” -he went on indignantly, “and the sons of guns warn’t wurth more than -twelve dollars and two bits apiece.” - -“You are right about the way Arizona is going to hell,” said the mine -foreman. “I don’t know as any of you fellows ever knowed ‘Teeth’ Barker. -Anyhow, next to what his father must have been, he was the ugliest -creature that ever lived on this earth. All of his teeth just naturally -stuck out like the cowcatcher of an engine. Well, in spite of that, he -always was a good friend of mine. Least he used to be. - -“About six months ago I was up to Jerome, and they was telling about -an accident there. A man no one knowed at all was killed, but a fellow -said he had the ugliest tusks he ever seed. I knew at once that must -be Barker. They said they’d planted him up on the knoll, and so,” -continued the foreman sadly, “and so, although it was a powerful hot -day, I struggled up to the knoll with a nice piece of pine board, and a -jack-knife, and I sort of located ‘Teeth’ with a handsome monument and an -exaggerated epitaph. - -“I came down as hot as the devil, and steps into a saloon to get a drink, -when who should walk up to me but ‘Teeth’ Barker himself! - -“‘You’re dead,’ said I. - -“‘Do I look like it?’ he asked. He got sort of hot under the collar about -it, too. - -“Well, the long and short of it all was that I had gone and taken all -that trouble with a tombstone for a stranger. - -“‘The least that you can do, “Teeth” Barker,’ said I, ‘is to come up and -see that beautiful monument I erected over you. It took as much trouble -to make as a year’s assessment work.’ - -“Well, he didn’t see it that way. Said he wouldn’t go up there if I was -to pay him. And that was after I had taken all that trouble! Gratitude! -There ain’t no such thing any more in Arizona,” concluded the foreman. - -Story after story was put forth for the edification of the crowd until -the grating of wheels outside told of the arrival of the stage. A moment -later heavy footsteps resounded on the porch, and the burly stage-driver, -with two great mail-sacks slung over his shoulder, swung into the office. - -“Evening, gents!” he called in answer to the general salutation. -He stepped over to Stephen’s desk and threw down a little bunch of -envelopes. “Four telegrams,” he said. - -Loring rapidly slit open the envelopes, laying the telegrams on one side, -and after running through the contents, began to sort the mail. - -“Any passengers?” he asked the driver. - -“Yes, six. Drummers mostly. They are over there eating now. There was two -men and a lady; but they stopped to eat supper at the station. They will -be up later.” - -“It’s lucky Mrs. Brown built those new sleeping quarters to her place; -she’ll be running a regular hotel here soon,” said the driver, as he -swung on his heel and tramped out to unharness his horses. - -Stephen sorted the mail rapidly, and deftly scaled the letters to the -fortunate recipients. - -“That is all,” he said, as he tossed the last. Every one left the office -with the exception of McKay who, with a woebegone expression on his face, -lingered behind. - -“What is the matter?” asked Loring. - -“Nothing,” answered McKay gruffly. - -“Well, how is this?” said Stephen, taking from his pocket a letter which -was addressed in large square characters to McKay. “You see she did not -forget you, after all.” - -McKay blushed to the roots of his hair, then opened the letter with -seeming nonchalance. - -“It seems to me that you have a pretty steady correspondent there,” said -Stephen, while he straightened up his desk preparatory to the evening’s -work. “I have handed you a letter like that every night this week.” McKay -colored even more, then stretched out his hand. “Shake, Steve! I am going -to get spliced. I have been meaning to tell you before this.” - -Loring jumped up and pounded him on the back. - -“You gay winner of hearts, who is she?” - -“Do you remember Jane Stevens, back at Quentin? Well, it’s her.” - -Loring’s eyes twinkled. “How did you ever get the nerve?” he asked. - -At the thought of his audacity, the perspiration broke out on McKay’s -forehead. - -“Well she had me plumb locoed. I remember once a horse had me buffaloed -the same way,” he explained. “I was scared, scared blue, Steve; but -finally I got up my nerve and thought I’d go and break my affections to -her gentle and polite like. So one day I rode over to their place,—you -know where it is was, just south of the Dominion trail,—and I thought -I’d go to see her brother Charlie and fix it up with him. When I reached -their shack she came to the door looking as neat as a partridge and with -a sort of smile hidden somewhere in her face, and—and I’ll be damned if I -didn’t kiss her right then without any formalities.” - -“That was the simplest solution of the problem, wasn’t it?” laughed -Stephen. “When are you going to be married?” - -“Oh, soon, I guess; but I wish it could be managed as simply as these -Mexicans do. And how about you, Steve?” continued McKay. “You ain’t been -took this way yourself, have you? Not that woman you was telling me about -in Mexico.” - -Loring shook his head. “Unfortunately she was a married woman.” - -“I sort of thought,” went on McKay, “that you and Miss Cameron was—” - -“Well, you thought wrongly,” interrupted Loring sharply. “I never expect -to see Miss Cameron again.” - -There came a ripple of laughter from the doorway, and looking up quickly -he saw Jean and her father walk into the office. Behind them stood Baird -Radlett. - -“What a hospitable form of welcome!” exclaimed Miss Cameron, smiling at -him frankly. - -For a moment Loring swayed in his chair, then he rose stiffly, as a man -in a trance. He stared at Jean with an absorption that was almost rude, -as if there were nothing in the universe beyond her. There lay a hint of -laughter in the gray depths of her eyes. - -“What is the matter?” asked Radlett. “Are you surprised to see us? Didn’t -you get my letter?” - -“It is probably in to-night’s mail which haven’t opened yet,” answered -Loring, still half dazed. - -“Mr. Cameron has consented to come and make a report on the property for -me,” explained Baird. - -Mr. Cameron came forward and held out his hand. “Mr. Loring, I have heard -of the splendid work that you have done here. I want to congratulate -you.” This little speech was a hard one for Mr. Cameron to make; but he -was a man who, when he had once made up his mind to the right course, -followed it to the end. - -The expression of pride in Stephen’s face turned to one of appreciation, -and he shook Mr. Cameron’s hand with a firm, grateful pressure. But all -the while he was looking at Jean longingly, worshipingly, all unconscious -of the intensity of his gaze, as a man who for days has been in the -desert without water looks upon the sudden spring. In all the months that -he had thought of her, dreamed of her, she had never seemed to have the -beauty, the potential tenderness, which marked her now when she stood -before him, her look telling him that she was proud of what her friend -had been and done. - -To Radlett, looking at them both, came a sudden suspicion, and a sudden -despair. - -Jean, at Loring’s request, seated herself at his desk, in the big -revolving chair, and while playing absent-mindedly with the papers on the -desk, kept up a laughing discussion with Baird. - -Loring, at the other side of the room, was answering Mr. Cameron’s -businesslike questions as to the grade of the ore, the force, the cost -of production, accurately and fast, as though almost every faculty in -his body and mind were not concentrated upon the girl who seemed to be -having such an interesting talk with Radlett. Finishing his talk with -Mr. Cameron, Loring left the office to arrange for sleeping quarters for -the visitors. In a few minutes he returned with the announcement that -all was ready, and led the way to the long, low building next the mess, -whose many rooms, opening on a broad porch, served as accommodations for -strangers in camp. - -Loring walked beside Miss Cameron, doing his best to talk unconcernedly -of every-day matters, but the hoarseness of his voice betrayed him. - -“I am very sorry to have to offer you such rough quarters,” he said to -Jean, as they reached the house, “but they are the best that we have. In -another month we hope to have something more comfortable to give to our -guests.” - -“In another month, Stephen, you will have an up-to-date city constructed -here,” exclaimed Radlett, with an almost reluctant enthusiasm. - -At the steps Stephen and Radlett said good-night to the others, and -walked slowly back to Stephen’s quarters, which they were to share. - -Loring sat on the edge of his cot, and smoked slowly while he watched -Baird unpack his valise, and with the method of an orderly nature put -everything away in the rough chest of drawers, or on the black iron -hooks which protruded from the wall. Espying a tin of expensive tobacco -neatly packed amidst a circle of collars, Stephen pounced upon it, and -knocking out the contents of his pipe, proceeded to fill it with the new -mixture. Radlett finished his unpacking, and recovering the tobacco can -from Loring, filled his own pipe. Then he tipped a chair back against the -wall, and sitting in it, regarded Loring for a moment in silence. - -“Stephen,” he remarked after a few seconds, “you have done a good piece -of work. I knew that you would.” - -Loring’s irrelevant answer was to the effect that the tobacco which -he had stolen was good. It was an odd characteristic of this man that -though his nature contained many streaks of vanity, praise for work -which he knew was good embarrassed him. At length he began to appreciate -the ungraciousness of his response to Radlett’s advances, and leaning -forward, with his elbows on his knees, he said: “You cannot guess what it -means to me, Baird, to have you say things like that, to be patted on the -back and made to feel as if I had done something, and that by a man who -has succeeded in everything to which he has turned his hand, who has won -all the big prizes of life.” - -Radlett drew back into the shadow where the lamplight could not reveal -the expression of his face. - -“All the prizes in life?” he queried with scornful emphasis. “No, not all -by a damn sight. You see, Stephen, I feel as if Fate had stood over me -with a deuced ironical smile, and said: ‘You shall have your every wish -in life—except the one thing that you want most of all—the one thing -that would make you happy.’” - -“Hm,” murmured Loring, shaking out the embers from his pipe and gazing -into the empty bowl. “With any one else I should say that meant a woman; -but with you it could not be.” - -“Why not with me as well as with any other man?” - -“Because there is no woman alive who would be fool enough to refuse you.” - -“Bless your heart, Stephen! It is only your blind loyalty that makes you -think me irresistible.” - -“Do you mean that there really is a woman so benighted? What is she -thinking of?” - -“I imagine,” answered Radlett slowly, “that you might change that ‘what’ -to _whom_.” - -“You would have me believe that knowing you, she prefers some one else?” -asked Loring incredulously. “Why, Baird, it is impossible.” - -“By no means. I think I know the man.” - -Loring’s blood boiled. “Who is the brute?” he cried out. “Tell me and I -will kill him, break his neck, shoot him.” - -Baird smiled wryly, blew a cloud of smoke toward the roof, and observed: -“If I were you, Stephen, I would do nothing rash. But come, we have -talked long enough of me and my affairs. Let us talk now about you and -yours! Suppose, for instance, you tell me why you turned the color of a -meerschaum pipe when Miss Cameron appeared in the doorway to-night.” - -Loring started and looked quickly at Radlett. “You noticed that, did you? -Well, you have quick eye and a gift for drawing conclusions, but they may -not always be right.” - -“Not always, no; but this time they are, aren’t they? Be honest, Stephen, -are you or are you not in love with Jean Cameron?” - -“Excuse me, but that can not interest you to know.” - -“Perhaps not, and perhaps it is a damned impertinence to inquire, but -after all an old friendship gives some privileges.” - -“Of course it does!” exclaimed Stephen, tilting down his chair. He walked -across the room to Radlett’s seat and stood behind him. “See here, Baird. -I did not want to speak of this thing because I was afraid of breaking -down and making an ass of myself generally. You don’t know what it is to -be placed as I am. When you asked a girl to marry you, you had something -to offer her, whether she had the sense to take it or not. You offered -her a clean life, a fortune honorably made, an untarnished name, while -I,—why even if there were the remotest chance that Miss Cameron would -look at me, I should be a brute to ask her. The more I cared for her, the -less I could do it. So you see, for me it must be ‘the desire of the moth -for the star.’ A man must abide by the consequences of his acts; he must -take his medicine, and if mine is bitter, it may do me all the more good -only—only I cannot talk about it. Good night!” - -Radlett did not answer; but long after Stephen was asleep, or pretended -to be, Baird lay staring at the rafters. “To lay down his life for his -friend,” he said to himself. “That would not be the hardest thing. To lay -down his love! I wonder if I am man enough to do it.” - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - - -During the week which the Camerons spent in camp at Kay, it was -amusing to notice the change in the appearance of the men at the mess. -Dilapidated flannel shirts and khaki trousers the worse for wear had been -supplanted at supper time by self-conscious black suits and very white -ties. The camp barber made enough money to tide him over many months. - -Mr. Cameron had spent a very busy week, examining with Loring all the -details of the work, and daily his respect had grown for the man whom he -had so despised. The evening before the last which she was to spend in -Kay, Jean announced her intention of visiting the “workings” with her -father when he should go the next day. Loring said that it was not safe; -her father protested; Radlett argued with her, and as the net result of -all she appeared the following morning with her determination unchanged. - -The porch of the mess a few minutes before breakfast time was always -crowded. Men on their way back from the night shift made a practise of -stopping to exchange a few words. It was a quieter gathering than in -the evening, for ahead lay the prospect of a long day’s work. Yet an -air of comfort always prevailed. The five minutes before breakfast made -a precious interval in which to loaf, a delightful time when one could -stretch himself against the wall and bask in the sunlight. - -Jean and her father came up to the veranda with a friendly “good -morning” to those who were gathered there. A few of the loiterers talked -respectfully to Mr. Cameron, whose fame as a mining expert was a wide -one, and Jean quickly became the center of a large group of men, eager to -point out to her the different mountains, the Grahams in the distance or -the long sharp ridges of the neighboring range. They called her attention -to the mist hanging low in the valley, curling softly in the farthest -recesses. The mine foreman, usually the most shiftlessly dressed man in -camp, twitched his polka-dotted tie into place when he thought that Miss -Cameron’s attention was absorbed by the landscape. - -Stephen came across from his quarters among the last. He waited a moment -before joining the group about Miss Cameron; and his eyes employed that -moment in fixing a picture indelibly on his mind. As Jean leaned lightly -against the wall, in her dress of white linen crash, she made a picture -which no one who saw could forget. Her gray eyes were clear with the -reflection of the morning light, and the sun searched for and illuminated -the subtle tints of her hair. She had a pretty way of speaking as though -everything she said were a simple answer to a clever question. Men liked -that. They thought her appreciative. - -She looked up to notice Loring’s glance upon her, and answered his “good -morning” lightly. “You need not speak as though you were surprised, Mr. -Loring,” she said, “I may have been late to breakfast five out of my six -days, but that is no sign that it is a habit with me. Besides, you know -that to-day I am to visit the mine.” - -“So you are still determined?” he asked. “Really, Miss Cameron, it is not -very safe. There might be an accident of some sort, and,” he went on, -looking at her gown, “you will ruin your dress.” - -“Do you fancy that I travel with only one?” Jean queried smiling. “It may -be so, but not even my vanity shall deter me; I really must go.” - -Just then Wah appeared on the veranda, and began to pound with his -railroad spike on the iron triangle which, as at Quentin, served for a -dinner gong. - -“La, la, boom, boom! Breakfast!” he shouted, amidst the din which he was -creating. “Me bludder, Steve, he almost late. La, la, boom, boom! Hot -cakes, hot cakes; oh, lubbly hot cakes, oh, lubbly, lubbly—!” - -In the midst of his song he caught sight of Jean, and stopping his -pounding he beamed upon her. - -“Goodee morning, missee, goodee morning! Missee on time this morning; how -it happen?” - -McKay angrily told him to shut up, but Miss Cameron stopped the rebuke, -assuring Wah that his reproaches had been well deserved. - -Several minutes after the others had begun their meal, Radlett appeared -at breakfast, still struggling against sleepiness. Not even the clear -early morning air had thoroughly aroused him. Breakfasts at half-past six -were a distinct and not wholly appreciated novelty to Baird. He slipped -into his place beside Jean, and endeavored to parry her banter upon his -indolence. Stephen, at his side of the table, was occupied in dispensing -the platter of “flap jacks,” which Wah, beaming with appreciation of -their excellence, had set before him to serve. - -“At what time do we visit the mine?” asked Jean across the table. - -“As soon after breakfast as you and your father are ready,” answered -Stephen. “The air is much better early in the day, before they have begun -to shoot down there. But I wish that you would change your mind about -going.” - -Jean turned to the mine foreman for assistance. - -“It is perfectly safe, isn’t it, Mr. Burns? I know that all my father and -Mr. Loring think is that I shall be in the way.” - -Burns laboriously protested against such an idea, and clumsily promised -to look after her safety. - -In the minutes that preceded the seven o’clock whistle, one by one the -men straggled off to their work, nodding respectfully to Jean and her -father as they left, and calling out parting gibes at Wah. By the time -that the whistle blew, the line of ponies picketed to the fence before -the mess had disappeared, and the community was at work. - -As soon after breakfast as Mr. Cameron had smoked his morning cigar, -he joined Radlett and Loring, and with Miss Cameron all walked up to -the mouth of the nearest shaft. Burns met them at the shaft house, and -selected from the pile of oilskins a “slicker” for Miss Cameron. She -struggled helplessly with the stiff button-holes, and Loring was obliged -to button the coat for her. His fingers, though stronger than hers, were -not much more efficient, owing to their trembling. - -“Where are the candles, Burns?” asked Loring. - -Burns pointed to a box in one corner of the shaft house. Stephen took out -a half dozen, and handed one to each of the visitors. He put a broken one -into the spike candle holder which he carried, and slipped the others -into his capacious pockets. - -The “skip” shot up and was unloaded. “All ready!” called Burns, steadying -the bucket by the level of the shaft mouth. Jean stepped forward and -looked at the bucket just a bit askance. Loring showed her how to place -her hands on the heavy iron links above the swivel, and how to stand on -the edge of the bucket with her heels over the edge. - -“Look out that your skirt does not hit against the side of the shaft!” -was his final injunction. - -“Can we go down now?” he asked Burns. - -“One second,” answered the foreman. “There is a load of sharpened drills -to go down with us.” - -In a moment the little “nipper” appeared with his armful of drills, and -with a ringing clatter dropped them into the bottom of the bucket. - -“I think we had better take Mr. Cameron to the four hundred level right -away,” said Stephen to Burns. “I want him to see that new stope. The air -isn’t very bad there, is it?” - -“No, it’s pretty fair.” - -“All right. Lower away, four hundred!” called Loring to the hoist -engineer, at the same time swinging himself onto the bucket beside the -others. - -The skip began to drop slowly down the timbered shaft. For the first -twenty-five or thirty feet it was fairly light, and Jean could see the -joints in the rough-grained, greasy boards. Then all became dark. She -clutched the cable tightly and half closed her eyes. The water began to -drip down hard from above, spattering sharply on their oilskins. Loring, -close beside her, whispered: “All right. Just hold on tightly, Miss -Cameron! Great elevator, isn’t it?” - -Even while Loring spoke, a chill struck to his heart. What if the hoist -engineer failed in his duty! What if the bucket crashed into the black -depths that lay below them, or shot wildly upward to be caught in the -timbers at the top! What if Jean Cameron were to be snatched away as -_those others_ had been, through the wanton carelessness of the man -in charge above! Would any punishment be black enough for him? Would -eternity be long enough for him to make a decent repentance? - -By the vigor of the answer which his heart made to the question, Loring -sensed the pang of remorse which had gnawed at his conscience without -ceasing ever since that awful night. “That was what you did.” The words -said themselves over and over in his ear as the bucket slid downward. - -The air began to turn from the pure clear atmosphere of the mountains to -the heavy close humidity of the mine, murky even in its blackness. - -“One hundred level,” explained Stephen, as the bucket dropped past a -candle which flickered dully in a smoky hole in the side of the shaft, -the entrance to the drift which was even blacker than the shaft itself. - -As they reached the lower levels, the water poured down faster. The -bucket swung and twisted and Jean leaned an imperceptible trifle closer -to Loring. He steadied her with his arm, although it may not have been -strictly necessary for safety. - -The bucket suddenly stopped and hung lifelessly steady. - -“Here we are, four hundred foot level,” called Loring. “Please stay just -where you are, Miss Cameron, and we will help you off.” He swung himself -onto the landing stage after the others, and taking both of Jean’s hands -in his, guided her safely into the drift. - -She stood for a moment completely confused, unable to make out anything. -Loring leaned out into the shaft, and pulling the bell cord, signaled to -have the bucket raised again. Then he took Jean’s candle, and biting off -the wax from about the wick, lighted it and his own, holding them under -a small protecting ledge of rock. To Jean’s unaccustomed eyes the little -flickerings made small difference in the darkness. She stepped into a -pool of water that lay in the middle of the drift, wetting her boots to -the ankles. - -“Careful!” said Loring, taking her by the arm. “Keep your eyes on Burns’s -candle ahead there. I will see that you don’t fall.” - -For a couple of hundred yards they walked on straight ahead down the -drift. Jean’s eyes began to grow accustomed to the gray blackness, and -now, when the roof of the tunnel grew suddenly lower, she stooped almost -by instinct. - -“Look out for the winze, Miss!” called back Burns. - -“All right!” answered Loring. “This runs to the next level, a hundred -feet down,” he explained, as he helped Jean to cross the plank which -bridged a black chasm. She noticed the rails of a little track which ran -beneath their feet, and almost as she was on the point of asking its -purpose, from far ahead in the darkness came a shrill, weird whistle, and -a heavy rumble. - -Loring caught her and held her back against the side wall as a “mucker” -ran past, wheeling a heavy ore car towards the shaft and whistling as -warning to clear the track. She began to feel the effects of the powder -fumes in the air, and it made her head heavy and drowsy. She felt that -she had come into a new, supernatural universe, where all was noisy, -dark, and strange. - -At last the drift broadened out into a large, irregular-shaped chamber. - -“Esperanza stope,” said Loring to Miss Cameron. “Here is where they have -struck the contact vein, where the porphyry changes to limestone.” He -held his candle close to the dark wall of rock, and she could see the -green crusting betokening the copper. - -“This will assay pretty close to ten per cent, won’t it, Burns?” asked -Loring. - -“It ran to twelve, yesterday,” answered the foreman. - -They stood still for a moment. All about them, as in the crypt of some -vast cathedral, were specks of light, showing through the dense air, -the candles of the miners. Now and then in the blur there appeared a -distorted shape, as some one moved before a candle. Through all, loud, -insistent, steady, rang the clink-clang, clink-clang, clink-clang of -the drills and hammers, as a dozen miners drove home the holes into the -breast of the stope, the tapping of the cleaning rods, as they spooned -out the mud, and the rattle of shovels on rock, as the “muckers” loaded -the ore cars. Mixed with these sounds was a sharp hissing, as the miners -drew in their breath, swaying back for the driving blow on the heads of -the drills. As she grew accustomed to the dim light, Jean could make out -the miners who were nearest to her, as, in teams of two, stripped to the -waist, their bodies shiny with sweat, they battered on the walls. Faintly -the lines of grim archways began to grow out of the dark, where rough -pillars had been left to support the roofing. Far off, up a cross-cut, -she could see more candles swaying. Two men near her were toiling at a -windlass, raising the water from a new winze. She leaned against the -wall, and something rattled tinnily. It was a pile of canteens, all warm -with the heat of the air. - -Jean gasped with the very wonder of the scene. To the others it was -merely the commonplace of their work. - -Burns called out to Loring: “We are going to take Mr. Cameron through to -the new stope. It is pretty hard climbing getting through to there. I -guess the lady had better wait here with you, Mr. Loring.” - -The voices of the rest of the party sounded faint and far away. Jean -watched the light of their candles sway and dip, as they walked off down -a tunnel, then disappear as a supporting pillar hid them from view. - -Loring led her to one side of the stope, and drove the spike of his -candle stick into a niche in the soft rock wall. He pointed to a pile of -loose ore. - -“We can sit here until your father returns. They are not working this end -of the stope now,” he said. - -She nodded and seated herself with her back against the wall. Silent, -with her chin propped firmly in her clenched hands, she strained her eyes -to look at the dim lights and shadows at the other end of the stope, and -watched the shadows grow into things, as she stared. Far beneath her, in -the solid rock, she heard faint indistinct taps. A trifle awed by the -mystery she turned to Loring. - -“What is that sound?” she asked. - -“Those are ‘Tommy knockers,’” he answered gravely. “They are the ghosts -of men who were killed in an explosion here, tapping steadily for help.” - -“Really?” she asked, half laughing. - -“It might be,” answered Loring, “but the fact of it is that those are men -drilling on the next level. The sound now and then carries clear through -the rock.” - -The candle in the niche behind her cast a dim light over the soft curves -of Jean’s cheeks, rising delicately above the rough yellow oilskin -coat. Loring beside her, looked down at her intently. Turning, she -inadvertently brushed against his sleeve, and he quivered as though it -had been a blow. The silence was growing oppressive with significance. -Suddenly Jean broke it, saying: “Mr. Loring, I may not have another -opportunity of speaking with you alone while we are in Kay. I must use -this chance to tell you what pleasure it has given me to hear of your -achievements here, of your courage in the riot and of—” Jean paused and -seemed to choose her words carefully, “of your victory.” - -“Oh,” answered Stephen, with an attempt at ease, while all the time his -heart was beating like a trip-hammer, “I suppose Baird has been talking -about me; but you must not take him too literally. There is no libel law -against flattery, and so men speak their minds about their friends as -freely as they would like to do about their enemies. Miss Cameron,” he -said suddenly, “I have never thanked you for the note which you sent me -when I left Quentin. But you must know how grateful I felt. I did not -deserve your trust; but I cannot tell you how it helped me.” - -She shook her head slowly, and when she spoke her voice was very soft. “I -am glad if it helped you, but you would have won your fight without it, I -think.” Her tone held a shadow of question. - -“The whole struggle would not have seemed worth while without that, and -without the truest friend in the world to help. Miss Cameron, Baird -Radlett came to me when I had fallen as low as a man could fall. He and -your note saved me.” - -“No,” answered Jean, “you saved yourself. I think you were saved from the -time of that dreadful night at Quentin, only you did not know it.” - -The roar of an ore car rushing by drowned her voice. A moment later -Stephen spoke in a hard, dry tone. “I am not sure,” he said, “that I know -exactly what salvation means. If it means that I am not likely to make a -beast of myself any more, or murder any more men, I am glad to believe it -is so; but after all what does it matter to me? I have lost my chance, -thrown it away, and life cannot hold anything particularly cheerful for -me after that.” - -“No, no!” Jean exclaimed with a swift inexplicable pang at her heart. -“You must not say that. There are chances ahead in life for every one.” - -“Yes, chances; but not _the_ chance.” - -“Am I _the_ chance?” Jean asked, in a voice so low that it could scarcely -be heard above the echoes. - -Loring bowed his head, with such dejection in his bearing as struck to -the heart of the girl beside him. Jean had been thinking, thinking hard. -The quick throbbing in her temples attested to the intensity of her mood. -She knew in that instant that she cared for the man at her side; but how -much? Enough to run the risk? - -“Mr. Loring,” she said at length slowly, as if weighing her words, “I -know that you care for me; but, and it is hard to say”—she laid her hand -on his arm and tried to meet his eyes—“but I don’t quite trust you.” She -felt his arm stiffen and quiver, but she went on, although her voice -broke: “I know that you are brave. I owe my life to that.” She paid no -attention to the gesture with which he waved aside all obligation. “I -respect you more than I can say for the fight that you have made against -habit, only—” - -“Only?” echoed Stephen slowly. - -“Only—oh, can’t you see that if I were to marry you and all the time -there were in my heart a doubt, even though the merest shadow, that -neither of us could be happy?” - -Loring crushed between his fingers a piece of the soft ore and let the -fragments trickle to the ground before he spoke. “It is more than year -now, Jean. Must the shadow last forever? Is what I have done to remain -forever unpardoned?” He spoke with the slowness of an advocate who knows -his case is lost, yet fights to the end. - -“It is not that, Stephen. I could forgive almost anything that you have -done. But there is one thing that you have done, that try as I would, -I could never forget. Stephen, let me ask it of you. What is the most -essential quality of all in a—a—friend?” - -“Honesty,” answered Loring, without a moment’s hesitation. - -“And suppose you knew that a friend had utterly fallen from honesty?” - -“I should then feel that the word “friend” no longer applied.” - -Loring was dazed. He did not know of her cousin’s story of his dishonesty -in his relations with his guardian. He thought only of the promise he -had made to her on their ride in Quentin and the manner in which he had -broken it. “Yes,” he went on slowly, “I suppose when a man breaks his -solemn word he shatters forever the mold of his character.” - -“I want you to understand that it is only because I cannot forget that -one thing, that my trust in you is not absolute.” - -Loring straightened himself, and for a second turned his head away. -“That,” said he, “is why I said I had lost _the_ chance.” - -A wave of pity swept over Jean. “And yet, Stephen,” she whispered, “I—” - -“Oh, Steve! Where are you?” came from out of the darkness. “We are going -up now. Mr. Cameron thinks we have a fine strike there.” - -Stephen helped Jean to her feet. Then silently he led the way back to the -shaft. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX - - -Inanimate things, the poets to the contrary, do not share human moods. -When Loring returned to his desk in the office the typewriter, instead -of showing the least sympathy, behaved abominably. Ordinarily the letter -“J” on a well-constructed machine is on the side, and little used. But -this afternoon it seemed to insist on beginning every word, and the -effect on the business letters which should have been composed was -not beneficial. But this is perhaps explained by the few terse words -concluding the pamphlet of directions which accompanied the machine: -“No machine ever made is _fool proof_.” So Loring had the extra task of -carefully proofreading all his letters. Being in love always has one of -two effects on a man’s work. He either does twice as much work half as -well, or half as much work twice as well; but no man truly in love has -been able to reverse these, and double both his zeal and efficiency. This -kind of inspiration has a singular disregard for detail, and when it -does deign to notice the minute side of things, it magnifies them to such -an extent that the ultimate aim is likely to be obscured. As proof of the -above statement, between luncheon and supper time, Stephen accomplished -twice his usual amount of work with a little less than half his customary -efficiency. - -His work done, Loring banged the cover onto the typewriter with a little -more force than was necessary, for if inanimate things cannot share -moods, they are still delightful objects on which to vent overwrought -feelings. Stephen’s hat was on the table behind the swivel chair, and -it was characteristic of him that he used great exertion to secure it -without rising, twisting the chair into positions which defied all the -laws of gravity. Having set the soft hat at its accustomed slightly -tilted angle, he lit his pipe and frowned at the garish appearance of -the yellow oak of his desk. Then he rose with the indecisive motion of -one who, when on his feet, wonders why he has left his chair. Ordinarily -Stephen was a trifle late at supper on account of staying to lock up the -office, and to-night from an illogical dread of the thing which he half -longed for, half wished to avoid, a talk with Jean, he did not reach the -table until all the others had left. - -Wah glided in from the kitchen with a fresh pot of coffee which he set -before Stephen, together with the choicest selections from the supper -which he had as usual saved for him. When Loring rose from the table, -leaving the larger portion of his meal uneaten, Wah looked at him -reproachfully from the inscrutable depths of his slanting eyes. - -Baird Radlett, Jean, and a few others were still gathered on the porch -when Stephen stepped outside. They were gazing intently down the valley -to the westward at the glorious afterglow in the sky, where, but an -instant before, the red rim of the sun had flashed before dipping behind -the hills. All were silent with that quietness which is brought forth by -moments of absolute beauty. Loring’s step and voice aroused them, and -all save Jean turned quickly. Baird saw a color in Jean’s cheeks far -richer and softer than the deep rose hue in the skies. He glanced quickly -from her to the man standing above her, who was looking down at her with -adoration in his gaze. For one second his love for the girl battled with -his friendship for the man, and Radlett realized the full bitterness -of the sacrifice that he was making. Then friendship conquered, and he -comprehended and sympathized with the sorrow which to-night made Loring’s -face look singularly old. - -Stephen stayed with them only a few minutes before returning to the -office to play the old, old game of burying thought beneath routine. - -Radlett and Jean were left alone on the steps. Baird watched Stephen -until he was hidden by the angle of the office. - -“Loring,” he said suddenly, turning to Jean, “has been working fifteen -hours a day for the last six months. He cannot stand it. I am afraid for -him.” - -“Afraid for his—for his—” she hesitated moment, “for his health?” - -“Yes, and only for his health,”, answered Radlett decisively. He rose to -his feet as if to gain strength for what he was going to say. Then he -seated himself again on the step beside her. Drawing a deep breath he -began: “Jean, you are not looking well, either.” - -Jean murmured something about the fatigue of the journey from the East. - -“No,” said Radlett firmly, “it is not that. It is something deeper than -that. You know it is, and I know it, too, so let there be no concealments -between us!” - -“What do you know? How do you know it?” Jean stammered. - -“A man knows some things by instinct,” Radlett answered. “I think I -should have found this out before long, anyhow; but your face, dear, is -not good at concealments, and when I saw your eyes, which had been sad -from the time we met in Tucson, suddenly light at the sight of Loring in -the office here, when heard the little catch in your voice (Jean, I know -every tone of your voice by heart) and when I saw and heard you, I knew!” - -“Oh, Baird!” - -“Never mind,” exclaimed Radlett, “we will not talk of that any more. -I only wanted you to understand that we must be quite frank with each -other, and that thus everything will come out right. Now tell me how -things stand with you.” - -“How can I, Baird? To you, of all people?” - -“You can and you must, just because I am I and you are you, and your -happiness concerns me more than anything in the world. You love Stephen -Loring. You are miserable about him. Why?” - -“I will tell you,” answered Jean slowly, looking intently out into the -darkness. “I will tell you why I am afraid for him, because you are his -friend as you are mine, and you will understand. I am afraid that it is -only for my sake that he has made his reform, and I told him to-day that -I did not quite trust him, and that—oh, Baird, you must understand!” - -Radlett bowed his head in grave assent. “Yes, I understand.” - -“But,” Jean went on, “if you think that this will cause him to fall -again, I cannot bear it; for Baird, I do care for him, and if this is his -last chance, I will give it to him.” - -Radlett grasped her hand firmly in his own and bent over her. No crisis -of his life had ever taxed his self-control like this. - -“Jean,” he said slowly, “he does not need you. Do you suppose that if -he did I should think him worthy the great gift of your love?” Baird’s -voice broke, in spite of himself; but he controlled it and went on: -“Stephen has fought his fight and won it as it must be won—_alone_. Do -you know what he has been since he left your father? Do you know of the -way he behaved in that fight in Mexico, of the way in which he has saved -the mine here, of the strength, the powers, the self-discipline that -he has shown. It must be something stronger than his love for a woman -that will save such a man as Loring, when he has once started down hill. -Stephen had that ‘something stronger.’ God help him, it cut to the bone! -Since that accident, Loring has never been quite his old self. I am -afraid he never will be, that he will always be under a cloud, but Jean, -it saved him. He has won his fight without you, and for that reason he -is worthy of you.” Baird felt the fingers in his own tighten in their -grasp. “Jean,” he went on, “you know how I have cared for you ever since -we were children, and how, although you did not care,” he cut short her -protestation quickly, “and how although you did not care in that way, I -love you now above anything on earth.” - -The tears gathered hot in Jean’s eyes. - -“You know that as I told you a moment ago your happiness is the highest -thing in the world to me, and I say to you: if you love Stephen, marry -him. If you do not love him, then I am sorry for him, but I am not afraid -for him. I am proud of him.” - -“He must be a man, Baird, to have such a friend as you.” - -A deep silence fell between them. Then Radlett rose suddenly, for he knew -his endurance could stand no more. He bent over her hand and kissed it -tenderly. Then with a heart-rendingly cheerful “good night,” he strode -off into the darkness towards his quarters. - -For an hour Jean sat on the steps, watching the lights of the camp, as -one by one they were extinguished, until one light alone burned. It was -in the window of the office. There she knew a man was working steadily -and bravely, and her heart beat irregularly as the realization came, that -it was the man whom with her whole heart she loved and trusted for all -the future, whatever might have been the past. The hot blood came surging -into her cheeks only to recede and leave them pale. - -Rising, she walked slowly across to the office. She hesitated a moment, -her hand on the door-knob, then throwing back her head proudly, she -opened the door softly and entered. Her bearing was that of a soldier who -surrenders without prejudice to his pride. - -Loring was bending over his work and did not see her as she stood in -the doorway. She watched his pen toiling over the paper before him. The -drooping dejection in his whole attitude cried out to her of his need for -her. - -“Stephen!” she half whispered. - -The man jumped to his feet, startled by the sound of the voice of which -he had been thinking. He turned to her, his face white and tense with the -strain of wonder and surprise. In three steps he crossed the room to her. - -“Is anything wrong?” he exclaimed anxiously. - -“Yes, something is wrong,” she answered, looking steadily into his eyes. -“I was wrong. I told you that I did not trust you. I do.” - -“Jean,” he gasped, half suffocated. “Do you mean that after I had broken -my word to you at Quentin, you could possibly forgive?” - -“I forgave that at the time.” - -His face was drawn with the conflict between an impossible hope and a -desperate fear. - -“That was the only time in my life that I ever broke my word, Jean, but -breaking it to you made it impossible for you to believe in me. You told -me so this morning, and I realized it. You forgive me that now,” he -cried, with a sudden flash of intuition, “because you are afraid that in -losing you, I shall lose myself again. Jean, though you are all there is -in life for me, I will not let you sacrifice yourself to your splendid -sympathy. Dearest, can’t you see that, as you said; if there were a -shadow of doubt on your mind you could never be happy with me?” - -“It was not what you think which made me say I did not trust you. It was -something, Stephen, which I know would be impossible in the man you are -now. I could not put your dishonesty to your guardian out of my mind, -until I realized that that was no more a part of the Stephen Loring I -know now than the faults which I had forgiven.” - -Loring looked at her in amazement. “My dishonesty towards my guardian?” -he exclaimed. “Jean, dear, what do you mean?” - -“I was told,” she said sadly, “that you had borrowed heavily from him, -and never returned the loan; but we can pay it back together,” she went -on bravely. - -“Jean, every cent that I ever borrowed, I paid him when I came into my -own money. I don’t know or care where you heard the story, but the only -part of it that is true is that I did abuse his good nature and ask him -to advance me out of his own fortune the amount that he held in trust for -me.” The impossible hope conquered the fear in his face. He seized both -of her hands in his and spoke breathlessly. - -“Jean, dearest, was that why you did not trust me?” - -She looked up at him with her eyes glowing with a new feeling. The love -that had sprung from pity had grown into the love based on pride. - -“Do not let us talk of that now,” she whispered, “but of the -present—and—and the future!” - -Stephen drew her to him with a passion which only those who have -despaired can feel. He bowed his head and kissed her as for months he had -dreamed of doing. He trembled violently as his lips met hers; trembled -with wonder, with adoration, with perfect happiness. He held her tightly -in his arms, as though afraid that all was not real, that he might yet -lose her, as if he drew strength and life from the heart that beat -against his own. - -The present redeemed the past and glorified the future. Through sin -and shame, through failure and humiliation, he had at last found his -strength, and before him in golden promise stretched the up grade. - - - - -_Mr. Oppenheim’s Latest Novel_ - -THE ILLUSTRIOUS PRINCE - -_By_ E. PHILLIPS OPPENHEIM - -Illustrated by Will Foster. Cloth. $1.50 - - -Mr. Oppenheim’s new story is a narrative of mystery and international -intrigue that carries the reader breathless from page to page. It is the -tale of the secret and world-startling methods employed by the Emperor -of Japan through Prince Maiyo, his close kinsman, to ascertain the real -reasons for the around-the-world cruise of the American fleet. The -American Ambassador in London and the Duke of Denvenham, an influential -Englishman, work hand in hand to circumvent the Oriental plot, which -proceeds mysteriously to the last page. From the time when Mr. Hamilton -Fynes steps from the _Lusitania_ into a special tug, in his mad rush -towards London, to the very end, the reader is carried from deep mystery -to tense situations, until finally the explanation is reached in a most -unexpected and unusual climax. - -No man of this generation has so much facility of expression, so many -technical resources, or so fine a power of narration as Mr. E. Phillips -Oppenheim.—_Philadelphia Inquirer._ - -Mr. Oppenheim is a past master of the art of constructing ingenious plots -and weaving them around attractive characters.—_London Morning Post._ - - -LITTLE, BROWN, & CO., PUBLISHERS - -34 BEACON STREET, BOSTON - - - - -_By the Author of “The Kingdom of Earth”_ - -PASSERS-BY - -_By_ ANTHONY PARTRIDGE - -With illustrations by Will Foster. Cloth. $1.50 - - -This new novel by Anthony Partridge, whose absorbing romance, “The -Kingdom of Earth,” met with instant favor, has London for its scene. -But when you have read it you will admit that real London, as well as -imaginary Bergeland, is a source of fascinating romance. - -The heroine of “Passers-By” is a street singer, Christine, who comes to -London accompanied by Ambrose Drake, a hunchback, with a piano and a -monkey. The fortunes of these two are strangely linked with those of an -English statesman, the Marquis of Ellingham, who in his youth has led a -wild and criminal career in Paris as the leader of a band of thieves and -gamblers, the Black Foxes. Here is the material for a thrilling tale in -which mystery breeds adventure and culminates in love. - -The first chapter plunges the reader into an interest-compelling maze -of events, and the attention is held to the end by a series of dramatic -situations and surprises. - -Mr. Partridge is now reckoned among the favorite novelists of the day. -His first book was “The Distributors,” the story of a great London -mystery. Then came “The Kingdom of Earth,” one of the popular novels of -1909. “Passers-By” is his third book. - - -LITTLE, BROWN, & CO., PUBLISHERS - -34 BEACON STREET, BOSTON - - - - -_By the Author of “Aunt Jane of Kentucky”_ - -THE LAND OF LONG AGO - -_By_ ELIZA CALVERT HALL - -Illustrated by G. Patrick Nelson and Beulah Strong - -12mo. Cloth. $1.50 - - -The book is an inspiration.—_Boston Globe._ - -Without qualification one of the worthiest publications of the -year.—_Pittsburg Post._ - -Aunt Jane has become a real personage in American literature.—_Hartford -Courant._ - -A philosophy sweet and wholesome flows from the lips of “Aunt -Jane.”—_Chicago Evening Post._ - -The sweetness and sincerity of Aunt Jane’s recollections have the same -unfailing charm found in “Cranford.”—_Philadelphia Press._ - -To a greater degree than her previous work it touches the heart by its -wholesome, quaint human appeal.—_Boston Transcript._ - -The stories are prose idyls; the illuminations of a lovely spirit shine -upon them, and their literary quality is as rare as beautiful.—_Baltimore -Sun._ - -MARGARET E. SANGSTER says: “It is not often that an author competes with -herself, but Eliza Calvert Hall has done so successfully, for her second -volume centred about Aunt Jane is more fascinating than her first.” - - -LITTLE, BROWN, & CO., PUBLISHERS - -34 BEACON STREET, BOSTON - - - - -_Sidney McCall’s New American Novel_ - -RED HORSE HILL - -_By_ SIDNEY McCALL - -Author of “Truth Dexter,” “The Breath of the Gods,” etc. - -12mo. Decorated Cloth. $1.50 - - -A dramatic story, big and splendid in theme, and handled in masterly -style.—_Albany Times-Union._ - -Fresh, vigorous, wholesome, well written.... Holding the absorbed -interest from first page to last.—_Chicago Record Herald._ - -The best work Mrs. Fenollosa has given us. It will be one of the -best read and most talked about books of the year. It is intensely -human.—_Springfield Union._ - -The reader must be dull, indeed, who is not stirred and thrilled by this -book, even in the light of a human document.—_Lilian Whiting in New -Orleans Times-Democrat._ - -A story of emotion, intensely dramatic, and told with the constructive -skill and power of narrative which Sidney McCall has evidenced so -effectively in her earlier novels.—_Brooklyn Eagle._ - -A story of the Southland which promises in a way to do as much for the -white slave of to-day as did “Uncle Tom’s Cabin” for the black man. -Besides the problem of child labor in the mills there is a love story -and romance that keeps the attention of the reader to the very end.—_St. -Louis Globe Democrat._ - - -LITTLE, BROWN, & CO., PUBLISHERS - -34 BEACON STREET, BOSTON - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Up Grade, by Wilder Goodwin - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE UP GRADE *** - -***** This file should be named 60010-0.txt or 60010-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/0/0/1/60010/ - -Produced by WebRover, Peter Vachuska and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from 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. 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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 Up Grade - -Author: Wilder Goodwin - -Illustrator: Charles Grunwald - -Release Date: July 29, 2019 [EBook #60010] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE UP GRADE *** - - - - -Produced by WebRover, Peter Vachuska and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<p class="titlepage larger">THE UP GRADE</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="500" height="800" alt="" /> -</div> - -<hr /> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 440px;" id="illus1"> -<img src="images/illus1.jpg" width="440" height="650" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">“The candle in the niche behind her cast a dim light over the -soft curves of Jean’s cheeks”</p> -</div> - -<hr /> - -<p class="titlepage larger">THE UP GRADE</p> - -<p class="titlepage"><span class="smaller">BY</span><br /> -WILDER GOODWIN</p> - -<p class="titlepage"><span class="smaller">WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY</span><br /> -CHARLES GRUNWALD</p> - -<p class="titlepage">BOSTON<br /> -LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY<br /> -1910</p> - -<p class="titlepage smaller"><i>Copyright, 1910</i>,<br /> -<span class="smcap">By Little, Brown, and Company</span></p> - -<p class="center smaller"><i>All rights reserved</i></p> - -<p class="center smaller">Published, January, 1910</p> - -<p class="center smaller">Fifth Printing</p> - -<p class="titlepage smaller">THE UNIVERSITY PRESS, CAMBRIDGE, U.S.A.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p class="center">TO MY MOTHER<br /> -MAUD WILDER GOODWIN</p> - -<hr /> - -<h2>ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> - -<table summary="List of illustrations"> - <tr> - <td>“The candle in the niche behind her cast a dim light over the - soft curves of Jean’s cheeks”</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus1"><i>Frontispiece</i></a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td></td> - <td class="tdpg"><span class="smcap">Page</span></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>“The girl was kneeling beside him”</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus2">36</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>“‘It seems like as if you was bitten, Mr. Loring,’ said Hankins”</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus3">125</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>“No one quite dared to lead an attack upon Knowlton, who stood - his ground beside the body”</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus4">241</a></td> - </tr> -</table> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p> - -<h1>THE UP GRADE</h1> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I</h2> - -<p>Stephen Loring sat on the edge of -the sidewalk, his feet in the gutter. He -was staring vacantly at the other side of -the street, completely oblivious of his surroundings. -No one would select a Phœnix sidewalk -as an attractive resting-place, unless, like Loring, -he were compelled by circumstances over -which he had ceased to have control.</p> - -<p>“Here, ‘Hombre’! How are you stacking -up? Do you want a job?”</p> - -<p>With an uncertain “Yes,” Loring arose from -the sidewalk, before looking at the man who addressed -him. Turning, he saw a brisk, sandy -whiskered man about forty-five years of age, -who fairly beamed with efficiency, and whose -large protruding eyes seemed to see in every -direction at once.</p> - -<p>The questioner looked only for a second at -the man before him. The face told its own -story—the story of a man who had quit. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span> -tired eyes half apologized for the lines beneath -them.</p> - -<p>“Easterner,” decided the prospective employer, -“since he wears a belt and not suspenders.” -The stranger extended his hand in -an energetic manner, and continued: “My -name is McKay. The Quentin Mining Company, -up in the hills, want men. They sent me -down to round up a few. You are the forty-first -man, and the boss bet me that I would only -get forty.”</p> - -<p>Loring’s head was still swimming as the result -of a period of drunkenness which only lack -of funds had brought to a close. By way of answer -he merely nodded wearily and murmured: -“My name is Loring.”</p> - -<p>His taciturnity in no wise discouraged his -interlocutor, for the latter paused merely to -wipe the perspiration from his forehead with a -handkerchief which might possibly once have -been white. Then, slipping his arm through -Loring’s, he went on with his communications: -“The boss bet me I would lose half the men I -got, but they will have their troubles trying to -lose me. Come right along down to the station! -I have them all corralled there with a friend<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span> -watching them. I don’t suppose you have such -a hell of a lot of packing to do,” he drawled, -looking at Loring’s disheveled apparel with a -comprehending smile. “I went broke myself -once in ’Frisco. Why, Phœnix is a gold mine -for opportunities compared with that place! -I’ll set you up to a drink now. There is nothing -like it to clear your head.”</p> - -<p>During this running fire of talk, McKay had -convoyed Loring to a saloon. The proprietor -was sitting listlessly behind a roulette wheel, -idly spinning it, the while he made imaginary -bets with himself on the results, and was seemingly -as elated or depressed as if he had really -won or lost money. Observing the entrance of -the two men, he rose and sauntered over behind -the bar.</p> - -<p>“What will you have, gents?”</p> - -<p>“I guess about two whiskies,” answered -McKay. “Will you have something with us?”</p> - -<p>“Well, I don’t mind if I do take a cigar,” -answered the barkeeper, as, after pouring their -drink, he stretched his arm into the dirty glass -case. Then he aimed an ineffectual blow with -a towel at the flies on the dirty mirror, and returned -to his wheel.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span></p> - -<p>McKay wiped his mouth with the back of -his hand, and licked the last drops of whisky -from his mustache. Then again taking Loring -by the arm, he stepped out into the street. -The heat, as they walked toward the railroad -tracks, was terrific. The dusty stretch of road -which led to the station shimmered with the -glare. No one who could avoid it moved. In -the shade of the buildings, the dogs sprawled -limply. Now and then riders passed at a slow -gait, the horses a mass of lather and dusty sweat. -One poor animal loped by, driven on by spur, -with head down, and tail too dejected to switch -off the flies.</p> - -<p>Loring watched him. “I think,” he mused, -“that that poor horse feels as I do. Only he -has not the alleviating satisfaction of knowing -that he is to blame for it himself.”</p> - -<p>The station platform was crowded with battered -specimens of Mexican peons, chattering -in high-pitched, slurred syllables. Their -swarthy faces immeasurably irritated Stephen. -Three white men, standing a little apart, looked -rather scornfully at the crowd. The only difference -in their appearance, however, was that -while each of the white men had two suspenders,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span> -the overalls of each of the Mexicans were supported -by only one. It would have been hard -to gather together a more bedraggled set of men -than these were; but McKay counted them with -loving pride.</p> - -<p>“Forty-one! All here!” he exclaimed. -“Hop aboard the train, boys; we’re off!”</p> - -<p>“Railway fare comes out of your first two -days’ work,” he exclaimed cheerfully to Loring.</p> - -<p>The train was of the “mixed” type that -crawls about the southwest. A dingy, battered, -passenger coach trailed at the end of a long line -of freight cars, which were labeled for the most -part with the white circle and black cross of -the “Atcheson, Topeka and Santa Fé.” The -men scrambled aboard, the engine grunted -lazily, protestingly, and the long train slowly -started. Until the train was well under way, -McKay stood with his broad back against the -door, his hand lying nonchalantly but significantly -on a revolver beneath his vest, then, with -a contented smile, he dropped into a seat.</p> - -<p>Loring had no hat. In Arizona, a man may -go without his trousers, and be called eccentric. -To go without a hat is ungentlemanly. Consequently -the three other white men whom<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span> -McKay had collected kept themselves aloof, -and Stephen, crawling into a seat beside a -voluble Chinaman, dozed off in misery, wondering -whether the murmuring buzz that he heard -was in his head, or in the car wheels. The -Chinaman looked down at Stephen’s unshaven -face and matted hair, and grinned pleasantly.</p> - -<p>“He allee samee broke,” he murmured to -himself, crooning with pleasure.</p> - -<p>For six hours the train had been plowing -its way across the desert, backing, stopping, -groaning, wheezing. The blue line of the hills -seemed little nearer than in the morning. Only -the hills behind seemed farther away. Now -and then, far out in the sage-brush, a film of -dust hung low in the air, telling of some sheep -outfit driving to new grazing lands. On the -side of the train next Loring, a trail followed -the line of the telegraph poles. Wherever the -trail crossed the track and ran for a while on the -opposite side, Stephen felt a childish anger at it, -for otherwise he could amuse himself by counting -the skeletons of horses and cattle, which -every mile or so made splatches of pure white -against the gray white of the dust. The passengers -slouched in the hot seats, rolling countless<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span> -cigarettes with the dexterity which marks -the Southwesterner, drawing the string of the -“Durham” sack with a quick jerk of the teeth, -at the close of the operation. The air of the car -reeked with smoke. At each little station-shed -new men joined the crowd, being received with -looks of silent sympathy and invariably proffering -a request for the “makings.” When this -was received, they resignedly settled on the torn -black leather of the seats, trying to accomplish -the impossible feat of resting their necks on the -edge of the backs without cramping their legs -against the seats in front of them.</p> - -<p>The train stopped suddenly with a jerk which -was worse than usual, as if the engine had -stumbled over itself. The brakeman, a target -for many jests, hurried through the car.</p> - -<p>“What have we stopped for now?” drawled -McKay. “To enjoy the scenic effect?”</p> - -<p>“Horse runned along ahead of the engine and -bust his leg in the trestle,” laconically answered -the brakeman.</p> - -<p>“The son-of-a-gun! Now, the critter showed -durned poor judgment, didn’t he?”</p> - -<p>The brakeman swore mildly, and disappeared. -In a few minutes he returned, carefully spat in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span> -the empty stove, and the train casually moved -on again.</p> - -<p>Seeing a paper lying in the aisle, as he walked -down the car, the brakeman stooped and picked -it up. His eye fell upon a large red seal, and -much elaborate writing. With a puzzled expression -he read the document.</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p class="center">“<span class="smcap">United States of America. Department of State.</span></p> - -<p>“To all whom these presents may concern, Greeting. -I, the undersigned, Secretary of State, of the United States -of America, hereby request all whom it may concern to -permit—Stephen Loring—a citizen of the United States, -safely and freely to pass, and in case of need to give him -all lawful aid and protection.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>“It must be a passport,” he thought. -“First one I ever seed, though. I wonder who -might Stephen Loring be.”</p> - -<p>His eye fell upon the appended description:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<ul> -<li>“Age, 23 yrs., 4 mos.</li> -<li>Stature, 6 ft. 1.</li> -<li>Forehead, Broad.</li> -<li>Eyes, Brown.</li> -<li>Nose, Irregular.</li> -<li>Mouth, Wide.</li> -<li>Chin, Medium.</li> -<li>Hair, Black.</li> -<li>Complexion, Ruddy.</li> -<li>Face, Square.”</li> -</ul> - -</div> - -<p>He looked about at the men in the car until -his eye fell on Stephen.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span></p> - -<p>“That’s him, all right,” he thought. “I -should say it would be sort of inconvenient to -have such a good description to fill!”</p> - -<p>He went to Stephen and touched him on the -shoulder. “Hey, stranger, I reckon this belongs -to you.”</p> - -<p>Loring, surprised, took the proffered paper. -Then he felt in the pocket of his coat.</p> - -<p>“I think it must have fallen out of my pocket. -Much obliged!” he exclaimed.</p> - -<p>It was an old passport, expired ten years since, -but Stephen carried it about with him as a -means of identification in case of accident.</p> - -<p>“How did you know that this was mine?” -he asked the brakeman from idle curiosity.</p> - -<p>The man pointed with an exceedingly dirty -thumb to the description.</p> - -<p>“I ain’t no detective, but I reckon that fits -pretty well.” Then he nodded to Loring and -walked away.</p> - -<p>Loring glanced idly at the passport as it lay -open on his knee. As he did so he wondered -what the friends who knew him ten years back, -at the time when that document was issued, -would say to his appearance now. “Wild oats -gone to seed. I guess that about describes me,”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span> -he murmured, with a grim smile, as he folded -the passport and slipped it back into the frayed -lining of his pocket. Dissipation and wreck do -not change the color of a man’s eyes, the shape -of his forehead or the outline of his face, so -that it had still been possible to recognize Loring -by his old passport. Had it been a description -of his personality instead of his measurements, -no one could have recognized the original. -Mathematically it is but the difference of an -inch from a retreating chin to one thrust forward; -artistically a very slight touch will turn -frank eyes into hopeless ones; philosophically -the turning of the corners of the lips downward -instead of upward may change the whole viewpoint -of life. Experience is mathematician, -artist, and philosopher combined, and it had -accomplished all these changes in Stephen -Loring.</p> - -<p>Through the parting kindness of friends, -most of the men had some food, which they -proceeded to chew with noisy satisfaction. -Loring began to feel cravings. The Chinaman -beside him was gnawing at a huge ham sandwich -with a very green pickle protruding from -between the edges of the bread. He eyed Loring,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span> -then turned to him and asked: “You hab -bite? My name Hop Wah. I go cook for the -outfit. Me heap fine cook,” solemnly added -the celestial.</p> - -<p>Loring gratefully shared the food.</p> - -<p>The men in the car, who until now had been -rather morose and silent, began to cheer up, -and to sing noisily. Loring lazily wondered -why, until he saw several black bottles passed -promiscuously about. McKay handed his own -flask to Loring.</p> - -<p>“Have another drink!” he said, “there is -nothing like it for a hang-over.”</p> - -<p>Loring took a deep pull at the flask.</p> - -<p>“Hey, Chink, have some?” continued -McKay.</p> - -<p>Wah smiled and shook his head.</p> - -<p>“Don’t drink, eh? Well, I’ll bet then that -you are strong on dope,” said McKay, as he -returned the flask to his pocket.</p> - -<p>Night began to turn the color of the hills to a -rich cobalt. Now and then the train crawled -past shacks whose evening fires were beginning -to twinkle in the dusk. Little camps scattered -in the niches of the foothills showed gray and -blurred. Jagged masses of rock, broken by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span> -cuts and hollows, now overshadowed the train. -Giant cacti, growing at impossible angles from -pinnacles and crevasses, loomed against the -sky line. As the hills shut in, the roar of the -train echoed of a sudden louder and louder -where the desert runs flat as a board to the hills, -and then with no transition becomes the hills.</p> - -<p>“Only fifteen miles more now, boys,” sang -out McKay; “but it may take two hours,” he -added under his breath.</p> - -<p>Cheered by this announcement, one of the -Mexicans groped under his seat and produced -a large nondescript bundle, which, after sundry -cuttings of string, and unwrapping of paper, -resolved itself into a guitar. Then, after fishing -in his pockets, he produced a mouth-organ with -two clamps attached. Loring, for want of -better occupation, watched him. The man -deftly fastened the harmonica to the edge of -the guitar. Then slinging the dirty red guitar -ribbon over his neck, he played a few warning -chords. When the attention of all was -fixed upon him, he bent his head over the -mouth-organ, and strumming the guitar accompaniment -with sweeping strokes, rendered a -selection that had once been “A Georgia Camp-Meeting.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span> -The applause being generous, the -artist threw himself into the spirit of his performance.</p> - -<p>“Thees time—with variations,” he exclaimed -excitedly. And they were variations!</p> - -<p>McKay regarded his flock with genial interest.</p> - -<p>“Ain’t he the musical boy, though?” he observed -to Loring.</p> - -<p>“Playing those two together is quite a trick,” -thought Loring; “I must learn it.” Then he -realized that he could not even play either -singly. Such impulses and awakenings were -frequent with him. Constructively he felt himself -capable of doing almost anything. The -ridiculousness of his thought aroused him from -his lethargy, and he began to hum softly the -tune that car wheels always play.</p> - -<p>At eight o’clock the engine gave a last exhausted -wheeze, and stopped. “Quentin. All -ashore!” called out McKay.</p> - -<p>The men took their bundles from the racks, -crowded down the aisle, and out to the rickety -station platform, where the ticket agent, lantern -in hand, looked at them wonderingly.</p> - -<p>“I didn’t lose a man on the trip,” McKay -said to the agent, in answer to the latter’s query<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span> -of “What in <em>hell</em>?” “Well, boys,” went on -McKay, “it is ten miles to where we camp, and -there ain’t no hearses, so I guess we’ll have a -nice little moonlight stroll.”</p> - -<p>The station settlement of Quentin consisted -of a few scattered tents, and of five saloons, with -badly spelled signs. One shack bore in large -letters the proud legend: “Grocery Store.” It -had evidently been adopted as a residence, for -in smaller letters beneath the sign was painted: -“This ain’t no store—Keep out!” Loring, -with lazy amusement, read this evidence of a -shiftlessness greater than his own.</p> - -<p>The crowd began to gravitate toward the -saloons. “Hey, other way there!” shouted -McKay, for he well knew that if the crowd began -drinking there, very few would reach camp. -A big Mexican, who had been imbibing heavily -on the train, lurched toward the saloons, bellowing: -“Me much <i lang="es">mal’ hombre</i>. I take a drink -when I damn please!”</p> - -<p>“You much <i lang="es">mal’ hombre</i>, eh?” said McKay, -smiling. “Then take that!” He stepped up to -the man, and let drive a blow from one shoulder -that almost broke the mutineer’s jaw. The man -staggered, then turned and ran, but up the trail.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span> -The other men howled with laughter, then they -picked up their blanket rolls and bundles, and -laughing and singing started up the trail, where -the deep shadows of the tall suwaras made black -streaks against the white porphyry of the projecting -cliffs.</p> - -<p>Loring and Hop Wah followed at the end of -the procession, the former consoling himself for -his lack of blankets by thinking how much -easier walking was without them; the latter -cheerfully singing a song of which verse, chorus, -and <i lang="fr">envoi</i> were: “La la boom boom! La la -boom boom!” If this were lacking in originality, -it was at least capable of infinite repetition, -and it turned out to be Wah’s one musical -number.</p> - -<p>Mile after mile up the trail toiled the straggling -line, the Mexicans calling loudly to each -other, or mocking with jeering whoops the unfortunates -who slipped on the loose stones. -McKay, chuckling to himself with pleasure, led -the little band. He was thinking of the expressions -of praise and surprise, of the congratulations -upon the successful outcome of his expedition, -which would be bestowed upon him in camp.</p> - -<p>Immediately ahead of Loring walked the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span> -three other white men of the collection. The -volubility of their cursing, as they stumbled -along, caused McKay to drop back to them. -After the customary greeting of “Well, gents, -how are you stacking up?” he began to probe -into the cause of their discontent.</p> - -<p>“What’s the work, boss, anyhow?” they -asked.</p> - -<p>“Can you ‘polish’ the head of a drill?” -asked McKay. He inquired as a matter of -form, for one glance at their slouching shoulders -and their thin chests had given him his answer. -“Can’t?” he observed cheerfully. “Well, I -guess your work will be ‘mucking’ on a narrow -gauge railway grade that we are building.”</p> - -<p>“Mucking!” growled one. “Ain’t there -nothing else that we can do besides scratch -around with a pick and shovel?”</p> - -<p>“Well, Sullivan, it is that at first. Later, if -I can get you a job out at the main camp, I -will. It is sort of hard on you fellows to have to -grub with all these ‘Mex’ at the road camp; but -as soon as you get a little ‘time’ saved up you -can start in buying your own stuff and messing -together.”</p> - -<p>“Save up ‘time’!” exclaimed Sullivan.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span> -“Hell! There ain’t no use savin’ anything in -this Gawd-forsaken country.”</p> - -<p>“Well, cheer up, anyway!” laughed McKay. -“Here is the ground where the road camp lies.” -Several camp-fires blazed suddenly out of the -darkness. Around them many shadowy figures -were grouped. These gathered with interest -about the newcomers, noisily commenting upon -their appearance. “Here we are, boys. The tents -ain’t down here yet; but sleeping out of doors is -powerful healthy. Sure Mike!” he added, poking -a grinning Mexican boy in the ribs. “<i lang="es">Seguro -Miguel!</i> Nothing like it, is there, Pedro?”</p> - -<p>“How about the rattle-bugs, Boss?” asked -Sullivan, the malcontent.</p> - -<p>“There ain’t no rattlesnakes out in April. -Besides, if there was, they would not bite your -carcass,” answered McKay, irritated by the -man’s attitude of continual grumbling.</p> - -<p>The men all busied themselves unrolling -their blankets and looking for sheltered places -in which to sleep. Loring was not accustomed -to construction camps. He thought that for -the white men, at least, sleeping accommodations -must have been provided.</p> - -<p>“Where can I sleep?” he asked McKay.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span></p> - -<p>The latter grinned from one big ear to the -other. “Say,” he drawled, “that’s good! -Your hot bath ain’t ready though. Haven’t -got any blankets, have you?” he added, relenting -a bit. “Better crawl in with some one -to-night. To-morrow, when I come down here -from the copper camp, I’ll bring you a pair. I -guess you won’t skip till you have done enough -work to pay for them, as you won’t have money -enough to vamos. And, say, I’ve got a swell -hat that I will give you. It ain’t respectable or -refined like not to have one.”</p> - -<p>The rough kindness touched Loring deeply, -and he began to thank him warmly.</p> - -<p>McKay uttered a brisk good night and turned -to walk up the trail which led to the main camp, -two miles beyond. The Mexican whom the -boss had knocked down at the station stepped -suddenly forward. Expecting trouble, Loring -jumped to his feet. He heard McKay say: “I -guess the señorita won’t think much of your -beauty now, will she, Manuel? I’ll send the -doctor down in the morning to fix up that face -of yours.” The Mexican, instead of rushing -at McKay, exclaimed excitedly: “Oh, boss, you -just like a father to me!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span></p> - -<p>Still smiling at the sudden change of temper -Loring lay down on the ground, and tried to -sleep. The knife-like cold of the Arizona night -made him shiver. Striving to keep warm, he -rolled from side to side. Suddenly, from out of -the darkness near him, he heard a soft laugh: -“Hey, me bludder, Hop Wah got plenty blankets. -Roll here!” Gratefully he crawled in -between the Chinaman’s blankets. Wah looked -at him curiously. “La la boom boom,” he -crooned to himself. “Heap lot whisky.” Then -he turned over and went peacefully to sleep.</p> - -<p>Loring lay rigidly upon his back. Conscience, -remorse, and a rock beneath his fourth rib, all -kept him awake. The stars did not answer his -half-framed questions, so he shut his eyes. It -is hard to think when the eyes are closed, so he -opened them again. It was a very simple question -that he reiterated to the shadows, to the -embers of the fire, and to the drone of the -Gila river. It consisted of one word—“Why?” -There was no need of his asking any one except -himself; but he put off as long as possible asking -the one person who could answer, for he <span class="smcap">knew</span> -why. His friends had always been so ready to -make excuses for his shortcomings, that in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span> -graciousness he could do no less than acquiesce. -But in spite of the veil with which memory surrounds -facts, when a man lies awake at night -he is likely to see them as they are.</p> - -<p>That both of Stephen’s parents had died -when he was a child was no answer to the question -which he asked of the fire and the river. -His uncle had educated him with an affectionate -insight which no parent could have bettered. -That he had not all along realized what -he was doing was no answer. A keen judge of -men, Loring was an inspired critic of himself. -It was not lack of ambition that had dragged -him down, for always there had been a longing -for those things which were not within his -grasp. There was no inherent vice in his character. -There was courage, loyalty, and kindness. -There was only one thing lacking—some -power to drive the whole.</p> - -<p>Most people are either led or pushed through -life. But there are some whose motive power -must come from within.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II</h2> - -<p>At half-past six the next morning the -whistle in the upper camp blew long -and clear. It is a strange fact that the -dispassionate whistle in the morning is the -brutal enemy of labor, calling its victims to -the struggle; but that at noon it is impartial and -cheerful. It then attempts the rôle of referee in -the great game between labor and capital and, -like a good umpire, favors neither. Yet the -same whistle at night, when it calls the game -off, becomes the warm ally of the workman, -encouraging him openly with promise of rest -and supper. It is then as if it said to him: “I -was compelled to be impartial. That is my -duty; but frankly, now that it is over, I am glad -that you have won.”</p> - -<p>Loring opened his eyes as he heard the morning -whistle, and, at first a little dazed, looked -about him. Then he rose and stretched himself. -Every bone in his body ached as the result of -the night on the hard ground. All around him<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span> -men were yawning sleepily as they crawled out -of their blankets. Close beside the camp ran -the tawny Gila river. Stephen walked down to -the bank, and kneeling on a small rock which -lay half afloat in the ooze mud, endeavored to -wash. Then, refreshed, if not much cleaner, -he made his way to the cook tent. Here under -a fly stretched on poles were four long tables, -heaped with tin plates and condensed milk cans. -The monotony of the table furnishings was -broken by a few dingy cans, decorated with -labels of very red tomatoes, which served as -sugar and salt holders. The old inhabitants of -the camp were noisily greeting the newcomers, -pounding on their cups and whistling whenever -they perceived some old acquaintance.</p> - -<p>The labor of the Southwest is of a very vagrant -quality. A man merely works until he has -money enough to move. Each time that he -moves he spends all his money on a celebration, -so that his wanderings, though frequent, are -not long in duration. Thus many of these men -had met before, around the smelters in Globe, -in the Tucson district, or north in the Yavapai.</p> - -<p>Loring found a place on one of the rickety -benches, and looked toward the coffee-bucket.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span> -Sullivan, who was opposite to him, growled -gloomily: “Say, the grub is rank. This coffee -is festered water.” The description, though -not an appetizing one with which to begin a -meal, was not without truth. In varying degree -it might have been applied to the rest of -the breakfast, from the red, tasteless frijollas to -the stew, which consisted of a few shreds of -over-cooked meat, in the midst of a nondescript -mass of questionable grease.</p> - -<p>As Loring had finished eating what he could -of the meal, and was contemplating borrowing -some tobacco, the foremen, who, as etiquette -demands, had eaten their breakfast in a group -apart from the men, began to look at their -watches, and to stir about actively.</p> - -<p>“Hurry up now, boys! Out on the grade—quick! -<i lang="es">Vamos!</i> Only five minutes more now!” -they called.</p> - -<p>The tools of the old workmen were scattered -along the grade, where each had dropped them -at the end of the previous day’s work. The -newcomers were marched single file, through -the tool-house, where each picked out his implements, -then started off to the place assigned -him. Loring, not from altruism, but because<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span> -he did not know the difference which well chosen -tools make in a long day’s toil, made no effort -to grab. In consequence he emerged from the -shed supplied with a split shovel, and a dull, -loose-headed pick. A foreman beckoned him -to a place on the grade, opposite to the cook -tent. He immediately started to swing his pick.</p> - -<p>“Don’t be in such a hell of a hurry!” called -Sullivan, “you’ll have plenty to do later.”</p> - -<p>The seven o’clock whistle blew sharply. -“Lope her, boys!” sang out the section foreman. -All talking stopped abruptly, and the -click of picks, swung with steady blows, and -the rasp of shovels echoed all along the grade. -Loring, new to “mucking,” swung his pick -with all the strength of his back, bringing it -down, with rigid full arm strokes, upon the -rocky soil. The foreman noticed this with -amusement. “He’ll bust in an hour,” he -thought; but he only said: “Loosen your grip -a bit or you’ll get stone-bruises.” Then he -passed on up the line, to tell a Mexican, who had -already stopped to light a cigarette, that “this -ain’t no rest cure.”</p> - -<p>Hop Wah from the depths of the cook tent -perceived Loring’s energetic labors, and called<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span> -out to him: “Hey, me bludder, no swing like -that! No damnee use. Just let him pick fall!” -Stephen nodded gratefully, and complied with -the practical advice. He worked steadily, only -pausing to exchange his pick for a shovel, -whenever he had broken enough earth, or loosened -some large stone. “Surely,” he thought, -“I can keep this up for ten hours. Here, at -last, is a job that I can do.”</p> - -<p>Stephen Loring had never in his life “made -good.” He had started well on many ventures, -and then given out. His friends had at first been -intensely admiring, and had predicted great -things for him; but gradually they had given -him up as hopeless. They would have lent him -money cheerfully; but a determination not to -borrow was one of his few virtues. In consequence, -having fallen stage by stage, he was -now reduced to being a day laborer, a -“mucker,” watched by a foreman to see that -he did not shirk. If the same method had -been applied to him earlier, it might have been -his salvation. As it was, he had sunk beneath -the current.</p> - -<p>The next hour seemed to Loring twice as -long as the first. His wrist pulsed with agony<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span> -from the jar of the blows. He was compelled -to wrap his handkerchief around his right hand, -as he had worn great blisters sliding it up and -down the pick handle. The sweat, as it rolled -down from his forehead, made his cheeks -smart. Every few minutes he was forced to -rest. At ten o’clock the time-keeper came to -him, and, drawing a shabby brown book from -his pocket, entered Stephen’s name on the rolls. -Then he drew from his pocket and handed to -Loring a brass tag, like a baggage check. -“Your number is four fifty-three; keep this -now!”</p> - -<p>Stephen looked at the tag for a second, then -slipped it into his pocket. It did not jangle -against anything. He leaned on his pick handle -for a moment, and with mild interest listened -to the time-keeper, as he accosted the Mexican -who was working next to him.</p> - -<p>“Eh, <i lang="es">hombre</i>! What’s your name? <i lang="es">Cómo -se llama?</i>”</p> - -<p>The foreman spoke sharply to Stephen, and -with the blood rising slightly to his temples at -the rebuke, he fell to work again.</p> - -<p>Loring possessed a strong imagination and -he had solaced many a hardship by either planning<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span> -for pleasanter occupations in the future, -or vividly reconstructing worse ones in the past. -But imagination is a dangerous plaything. The -men working on either side of him thought of -nothing, except perhaps some solution of the -great problem of the human race, how to make -the greatest possible show of work with the least -effort. Stephen, however, was accompanied in -his work by imagination. To-day it was of a -sort which was neither subtle nor pleasant. It -began by saying to him: “You are healthy. -You will probably live for thirty years or more. -They will be pleasant years, won’t they? There -are three hundred and sixty-five days in a year, -so if you work ten hours a day for thirty years, -perhaps you may grow used to work. Work is -a great companion, is it not, Stephen? It is -unfortunate,” finished imagination glibly, “that -you must do this forever.”</p> - -<p>Loring spoke aloud in answer to his imagination, -timing his syllables to the already shortened -strokes of his pick. “Not forever?”</p> - -<p>“Well,” rejoined imagination, “I see no alternative, -do you? And what is more,” added -the Devil who at this moment was operating -imagination, “<em>You</em> are not even building the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span> -railroad. All <em>you</em> are doing is moving rocks. -<em>Any one</em> can move rocks.”</p> - -<p>By noon time Stephen was limp and exhausted. -The hour’s respite seemed to him to -go by like a flash, and he started upon the afternoon’s -work in a hopeless frame of mind, his -muscles stiffened instead of rested by the short -relaxation.</p> - -<p>After an hour’s labor, he moved to a place -where the ground was soft, and for a while his -delight in this supported him. It is little things -such as this which make the epochs in a day of -manual labor. As he toiled on grimly, in a few -short hours, he had reversed his views on -Socialism.</p> - -<p>“Of course the laborer is the chief factor in -production,” he murmured wearily to himself, -as he grew more and more dizzy.</p> - -<p>At three o’clock, McKay, with a surveying -party, reached the section of the grade where -Loring was working. Stephen watched him, -as he stooped over the level and waved his -hand up and down. He heard him shout “O. K. -back sight! Ready fore sight!” Then “O. K. -fore sight! <i lang="es">’Sta ’ueno!</i>” and somehow the -cheery tones braced Loring for his work.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span></p> - -<p>McKay, as he came up, nodded cheerfully: -“I left that hat for you in the cook -tent,” he said; “it will make you look like -a real man!” Then noticing the agonized -swings of the pick, he looked at Loring -quizzically.</p> - -<p>“Say, I reckon you ain’t done this sort of -thing for some time, have you? I guess a short -spell at flagging wouldn’t discourage you. Go -up to the tool-house, and get a white flag that -you’ll find there. Then go up to that point -back there, where the wagon road crosses the -grade. I’ll put another flagman on the point -below, and when he waves, you stop anything -that comes along. In a few minutes we are -going to “shoot” all along here, and I don’t -want to blow up any teams or people that are -going up to the copper camp.”</p> - -<p>Loring dropped his pick with alacrity, and -started for the tool-shed. As he walked back -along the grade, he looked with curious interest -at the men who were still working. Somehow -their labors seemed a part of himself. His -back ached sympathetically as they stooped to -their work. At the shed he found the dirty -white rag and stick which served for flagging.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span> -Then he hurried to his place. He passed Sullivan, -who waved joyously to him.</p> - -<p>“The boss has set me flagging, too. Gee, what -a graft! Me for a nap, as soon as they start to -shoot. There won’t any teams go by, when -they hear the shots, and I can get a good sleep.”</p> - -<p>“You had better not,” answered Loring. -Then, feeling that it was none of his business, -he went on to the place which McKay had assigned -to him. He seated himself on a large -rock, from which he could see far in all directions. -He was at the end of the grade nearest -to the copper camp, and he could see the great -iron chimneys of the smelter, protruding above -the hills to the north, belching forth black -smoke against the brilliant blue of the sky. -“The whole country looks as if it had been -made with a hack-saw,” he mused, as he looked -at the jagged rocks and irregular mountains -about him. “I would give a great deal to see -something green besides this accursed cactus; -but I suppose that grass and civilization go -together.”</p> - -<p>Then, watching for a signal, he fixed his eyes -on the point of rock where Sullivan was stationed. -After a few minutes he saw, against<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span> -the brown background of the rocks, a spot of -white move quickly up and down. He immediately -ran out into the road, and stopped a line -of coke teams that was coming down from the -camp. The drivers merely threw on their -brakes, and let the thin-boned, almost transparent -horses tug uselessly at the traces, until -they discovered the vainness of the effort. Then -horses, like drivers, relapsed into the comatose -acceptance of conditions, which in the land of -the cactus becomes part of man and beast. -McKay came up on horseback, calling out to -the first of the drivers: “Hold your horses! -The e-l-ephants are about to pass!” The -Mexican, just as though he had understood, -grinned, then again dozed off.</p> - -<p>One by one, far down the grade, little puffs -of smoke began to curl at the places where the -drillers’ gangs had been working. The men, -howling in mock terror, came tearing past the -place where Loring and McKay were standing. -They would run several hundred yards further -than safety required in order to delay by a few -moments their return to work when the blasting -was finished. As the men surged by, McKay, -in spite of his disgust, grinned.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Trust a Mex to find some way to shorten -work,” he said to Loring. In rapid succession -the “shots” began to go off; whole sections of -the cliffs seemed to swell, then gave forth a fat -volume of smoke, and finally burst, hurling -fragments of brown-black rock against the sky -line. Then, a fraction of an instant later, the -dull, muffled boom carried to the ear.</p> - -<p>“Regular bombardment, ain’t it!” exclaimed -McKay. “Wo-op! duck!” As a large jagged -piece of shale came whizzing over their heads -he and Loring simultaneously dropped to the -ground.</p> - -<p>“Ain’t it funny?” said McKay, as they got -to their feet again. “Now time and again these -things won’t go fifty feet, then all of a sudden -they chase a fellow who is a quarter of a mile -away.”</p> - -<p>The heaviest “shot” of all was to be fired in -a place near Loring’s position, where a deep -spur of black diorite protruded across the grade. -During five days gangs had been drilling on -this spur, so that its face was honeycombed with -ten deep holes, for diorite is almost as hard as -iron, and to make any impression upon it requires -an immense load of powder. McKay<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span> -himself had superintended the loading, patting -the charges firmly down with the tamping rod, -until, as he expressed it, he had enough powder -there to “blow hell up to heaven.” They had -waited to fire these “shots” until the last of the -others had exploded, and now the little group -of men who were nearest began to look everywhere -for shelter. The waiting teams were -backed up close against the ledge, while the -drivers crawled underneath the wagons for protection. -Loring and McKay stood beside a -large boulder, behind which they could drop -when the explosion came. Into every niche -men crawled, waiting for the shock.</p> - -<p>The foreman bent over the first fuse, and a -wisp of thin blue smoke arose at the touch of his -hand.</p> - -<p>“Hope he ain’t cut the fuses too long,” -growled McKay anxiously. “If one of those -loads misses fire, it won’t be safe to work in this -neighborhood.” The foreman stepped quickly -from fuse to fuse, and spurt after spurt of -smoke began to curl from the rock, some hanging -low, some rising. The foreman stooped -over one of the fuses for a second time.</p> - -<p>“It’s missed!” exclaimed McKay. “No,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span> -he’s got it. Hey, <em>beat</em> it! Quick!” he shouted, -as the thin smoke began to turn from whitish-blue -to yellow-brown. The foreman ran back a -up the grade towards them.</p> - -<p>“The damned fool!” breathed McKay. -“Like as not he’ll kill himself, and it will take -me a week to find another man who can shoot -the way he can. About thirty seconds more, -and that rock is going to jump!”</p> - -<p>Loring raised his eyes. Far down the grade, -beyond the point, he saw a speck. The speck -grew larger and became a horse and rider.</p> - -<p>McKay saw it too. “Sullivan will warn him,” -he said tersely. “My God!” he yelled, “it’s a -woman, and her pony is running away.”</p> - -<p>Loring made a jump into the grade and -dashed towards the smoke. The yellow-brown -turned to the black-brown that just precedes -an explosion. It poured forth from the ground -like a volcano.</p> - -<p>“He can’t even reach the ‘shots,’” gasped -McKay. “Oh, my God, where was the other -flagman! Only fifty yards more—He must -make it!—He will!—He’s reached the spot; -he’s past it. He will—God, and there’s ten -shots there!” Even as he spoke the surface<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span> -of the earth belched forth rumbling thunder -and burst into fragments. McKay dropped -flat on the ground, behind the sheltering boulder. -A great cloak of brown smoke punctured with -huge black rocks shut out the scene. Then, -with dull, splashing thuds, the rocks began to -fall into the muddy river which dragged itself -along beside the grade. First came a few -solemn splashes as the large rocks fell, then -faster, a very hailstorm of fragments, as the -smaller pieces showered down. The Mexicans -were cursing frantically, adding to the roar a -shrill pitch.</p> - -<p>The first three “shots” went off in lightning -succession. A pause, then two more.</p> - -<p>“Five!” yelled McKay.</p> - -<p>Then three more “shots” boomed deeply. -McKay and the foreman knelt behind the boulder, -pale, breathing hard, striving to guess what -lay behind that wall of smoke. Another pause, -then a terrific report.</p> - -<p>“Nine, only one more!” shouted the foreman. -They waited ten seconds,—no other -shot. Then ten seconds more. They rose to -their feet and started forward. “Two must -have gone off at once,” yelled McKay. Another<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span> -roar, and they had barely time to reach -cover before the shower of rocks again fell.</p> - -<p>“<em>Ten!</em> Come on!” roared McKay. The -rocks had hardly fallen, before he, followed by -a dozen others, was rushing through the smoke -to what he knew must be beyond. The grade -was blocked with great masses of rock, and by -the time they had climbed over these barriers, -the smoke had cleared.</p> - -<p>They found Loring lying on his face, his right -hand still grasping the bridle of the dead horse. -The girl was kneeling beside him. As McKay -reached her side, he recognized the daughter of -the manager of the mine. He raised her to her -feet, while as if dazed by the miracle he repeated: -“You ain’t hurt, Miss Cameron? You ain’t -hurt?” She shook herself free from him, then -knelt again by Stephen, trying to stanch with -her handkerchief the blood that was flowing -from a great cut in his temple. She looked up -at McKay with an anxious appeal in her eyes. -“Is he dead?” she asked.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 440px;" id="illus2"> -<img src="images/illus2.jpg" width="440" height="650" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">“The girl was kneeling beside him.” <a href="#Page_36"><i>Page 36</i></a></p> -</div> - -<p>McKay bent over, and opening the rough shirt -felt Loring’s heart. “No, he’s alive still, but he’s -pretty close to gone,” he answered. He untwisted -the tight clenched fingers from the bridle, and half<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span> -raised the unconscious body. It lay limp in his -arms. He turned to one of the foremen who were -gathered around.</p> - -<p>“Smith, get a horse and ride like hell for the -company doctor!” The man was off for the -corral in an instant.</p> - -<p>“Now, Miss, you just leave him to us!” went on -McKay. “See now, your skirt is getting all blood.”</p> - -<p>For reply, she raised Loring’s head gently and -placed it in her lap. “Now, send some one for -blankets and water,” she directed.</p> - -<p>“<i lang="es">Agua</i>, hey, <i lang="es">ag-ua</i>!” shouted McKay, and in -a minute a little pale-faced water boy came stumbling -up with a bucket of muddy water. McKay -looked on in wonder while the girl deftly washed -the dirt from the wounds.</p> - -<p>“She has her nerve,” he thought. “There -ain’t nothing like a woman.”</p> - -<p>One of the Mexicans came back from the cook -tent with a blanket, and upon this they gently -lifted Stephen. Then four men carried him to the -nearest tent. Jean walked beside them, holding -her wet handkerchief tightly against Loring’s -forehead, in vain attempt to stop the bleeding. -They laid him on the ground, inside the tent.</p> - -<p>“Now you must go, Miss Cameron,” implored<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span> -McKay. “I’ll send you up to camp in one of -the teams. Your father would never forgive me -if I let you stay. Why you are as pale as—”</p> - -<p>The girl interrupted him decisively. “Are -there any cloths here for bandages?”</p> - -<p>He looked hopelessly around the tent with its -pile of dirty quilts.</p> - -<p>“I don’t see anything,” he murmured.</p> - -<p>Jean seized the soft white stock about her neck, -and with a quick tug tore it off. “This will do,” -she breathed, as she placed the impromptu bandage -about Loring’s head.</p> - -<p>“Now tie this! I can’t pull it tightly enough.”</p> - -<p>McKay drew the ends of the bandage together, -and clumsily knotted them. Then he thought -of his one universal remedy. Meekly turning -to Jean he asked: “How about some whisky -for him?” She nodded, and he drew a flask -from his pocket. With strong fingers he pried -open Stephen’s jaws, and poured the whisky -down his throat. The stimulant brought a slight -color to the mask-like face.</p> - -<p>“I guess he would sure enjoy this some, if he -were conscious,” thought McKay grimly. The -men had been sent back to work, and only he and -Miss Cameron knelt in the tent by Stephen, feeling<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span> -anxiously for the slow heart-beats in the big -helpless frame. Then came the pound of horses’ -hoofs on the road, the sliding sound of a pony -flung back in full career upon his haunches, and -the doctor stood pulling open the flaps of the tent. -Jean rose to her feet.</p> - -<p>“I shall only be in the way now,” she said, and -stepped outside into the vivid sunlight.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III</h2> - -<p>Two weeks had passed since the accident. -Loring, whose life had been at first despaired -of, was gaining fast in strength, -and enjoying the first real comfort that he had -known in months. As he lay quietly on the hard -canvas cot, the rough company hospital seemed -to him a dream of luxury.</p> - -<p>His cot had been placed close to the door, where -he could look out over the little camp. The early -morning light brought the whiteness of the tents -scattered about the plateau into clear contrast -with the shadowy brownness of the surrounding -mountains, while in the sunlight the yellow -pine framework of the intermingled shacks -sparkled brightly. The smelter pounded away -steadily, great wreaths of smoke pouring from its -chimneys, the blast sucking and breathing like -some huge driven beast. Intermingled with the -sound was the clanging rasp of shovels, as the -smelter stokers piled coke into the furnace. Over -on the far mountain a wood-laden burro train<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span> -was picking its way slowly down the trail. In -the thin morning air the tinkle of the bells on the -animals’ necks and the sharp calls of the drivers -carried clear across the valley. Close by the -smelter, in the midst of the coal dust and cinders, -stood a jaded horse, with a harness made of chains. -For two days it had fascinated Loring to see the -deft way in which the driver hooked this horse -to the glowing slag pots, and drove him along -the narrow track that led out on the slag dump. -With the childishness of the sick, he harbored a -deep grudge against the shack, behind which -the horse, with his molten load, would always -disappear. This prevented his seeing the operation -of dumping the slag, which he felt must be -highly interesting. At the other side of the doorway -he could just see the corner of a newly finished -shack. He looked a bit gloomily at the completed -building, for it had been delightful to -watch the carpenters at work upon it. In two -days the whole house had been finished, even -to the tin roofing. This tin roofing, by the -way, had brought Stephen much joy, for the -carpenter’s assistant had laid the plates from -top down, instead of beginning at the bottom, -so that the joints would overlap and be water-tight.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span> -In consequence the whole roofing had -been ripped off and done over again.</p> - -<p>The morning shift was just going to work, and -the hurrying groups of men passed the door on -their way up to the mine. At the watering-trough -each stopped, and plunging his canteen deep into -the water, held it there until the burlap and -flannel casing was saturated, ensuring a cooling -drink for them during their work. Loring laughed -at himself when he found himself wishing that -they would not all wear blue denim overalls.</p> - -<p>Little water boys struggled past, each with a -pole, like a yoke across his shoulders, from either -end of which hung a bucket. The men greeted -them as they passed, with calls of “Go-od -boy!” “<i lang="es">Bueno muchacho!</i>” Several of the men, -as they passed, greeted Stephen with shy exclamations -of “<i lang="es">Eh, amigo—Cóm’ estamos?</i>” Then -they went on to their work beneath the ground. -Loring was touched by these inquiries for his -welfare, and smiled in a friendly fashion at -each.</p> - -<p>Loring’s smile had been one of his worst -enemies, for it had so often prevented people -from telling him what they thought of him. It -combined a sensitiveness which was unexplained<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span> -by the rather heavy molding of his chin, with a -humor which only one who had carefully studied -his eyes would be prepared for. It was an exasperating -smile to those who did not like him, -for it possessed a quality of goodness and strength -to which they thought he had no right as an accompaniment -to his character. On the other -hand, it was one of the attributes which most -strongly attracted his friends. It was not an analytical -smile, so it put him in touch with unanalytical -people, yet it had a certain deprecating twist -which could convey a hint of subtlety.</p> - -<p>When the seven o’clock whistle blew, Loring -thought of the gang at the road camp lined up -for ten hours of relentless toil, and he breathed -deep in contentment.</p> - -<p>“It is great to be laid up for a respectable -cause,” he thought. Memories of the times that -he had spent at an old university in the East -came to him. He looked about him at the rough, -bare boards, at the eight canvas cots, at the lumps -on three of them, where, wearing the inevitable -pink or sky blue undershirt, lay sick Mexican -miners. He amused himself by mentally filling -with his old-time associates each of the empty -cots. “I wish they were all here,” he half exclaimed.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span> -Then it occurred to him that this was -not a very kindly wish. Loring heard the murmur -of voices outside the door, and listened attentively. -He recognized the voice of the company -doctor. “It must be time for the morning clinic,” -he thought to himself. Then he listened to the -brisk questioning and prescribing.</p> - -<p>“You feeling much <i lang="es">mal’</i>? Well, not so much -whisky next time; get to work!”</p> - -<p>Stephen heard a low-voiced question from -some one. Then again the doctor’s decided answer: -“Of course not! Hospital fee does not -pay for crutches. What do you want for a dollar, -anyhow?”</p> - -<p>He listened with interest as each man described -his symptoms or his needs. “It makes -me feel almost well to hear about all those things,” -he reflected. The broad shoulders and cheerful -smile of the doctor appeared in the doorway, -and with heavy footsteps the owner of these -two pleasant possessions approached Loring.</p> - -<p>“Feeling pretty good this morning?” asked -the doctor.</p> - -<p>Stephen answered that he was.</p> - -<p>“That’s fine,” exclaimed the doctor. “At -one time you were a pretty tough case. I thought<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span> -we’d have the trouble of a funeral in camp. -Swell affairs they are, here. But say, did you -ever see a funeral in Phœnix? Why, they <em>trots</em> -’em in Phœnix!”</p> - -<p>Loring expressed his admiration for such a -spirit of activity, while the doctor was propping -him up in bed, and adjusting the bandages.</p> - -<p>“I guess you won’t have to work for some -days,” remarked the doctor. “It is lucky you -did one day’s work, as it just pays for your hospital -fee and medicine.”</p> - -<p>“Hard luck, doctor,” laughed Stephen, “but -that had to go for traveling expenses.” Hearing -light footsteps on the porch outside, the doctor -went to the door. Loring heard him answer -some question.</p> - -<p>“Well, Miss Cameron, I guess it won’t kill him -to see you. It may even be good for him. Come -in by all means!”</p> - -<p>Loring looked up and saw framed in the doorway, -like a picture, a girl frank of eyes and fresh -of coloring. A little Scotch cap was perched on -the waves of her tawny hair. Her gown was of -dark blue, relieved at neck and throat by bands -of white, and girdled by a ribbon of red and blue -plaid. Across her arms lay a sheaf of yellow and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span> -red wild flowers such as creep into abundant life -among the forbidding rocks. The vision seemed -to bring a new tide of life and vigor to Loring. -He forgot his weakness and raised himself for a -moment on his elbow; but the effort was too -much for him, and he sank back exhausted on -his pillow.</p> - -<p>The girl hesitated for an instant. Then she -stepped quickly over to his cot.</p> - -<p>“This is Miss Cameron, Loring,” explained -the doctor; “she has come to thank you for what -you have done.”</p> - -<p>The girl impulsively bent over him, and took -his big, weak hand in her own small, strong one.</p> - -<p>“Oh, I am glad that you are better. I would -have come before to see you, but the doctor -would not allow it.”</p> - -<p>Loring looked malevolently at the doctor.</p> - -<p>“How can I thank you?” she went on.</p> - -<p>So fascinated was Stephen by the eager breathless -way in which she spoke, that he hardly -understood what she was saying. With difficulty -he raised himself again on his elbow. “Why it -was all in the day’s work of a flagman,” he said. -“There is nothing at all for which to thank me.”</p> - -<p>She shook her head in denial. “It is not in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span> -day’s work of a flagman to risk his life for someone -whom he has never seen,” she said quickly. -“There is nothing that I can say which can -possibly express my gratitude; but you do know, -don’t you?” As she spoke she looked at him -appealingly.</p> - -<p>Stephen murmured something, he scarcely knew -what, in reply, and was conscious of wishing -vaguely that the doctor would not look at him.</p> - -<p>Miss Cameron laid her armful of flowers beside -him. As she dropped the red and yellow sheaf, -Stephen noticed the delicate modeling of her wrist, -and smiled appreciatively. “When you are better, -my father will see you,” continued the girl. “He -will reward you, and—” With her usual quick -intuition she noticed the shade of annoyance on -his face. “That is,” she went on rather slowly, -“he will do what he can for you.”</p> - -<p>“Thank you,” said Loring, “but I think that -in two or three weeks I shall be able to work -again.”</p> - -<p>“I am afraid if I let you talk any more, you -won’t ever be able to work,” interrupted the -doctor.</p> - -<p>“I will come again to-morrow,” said Jean. -“If there is anything that you want, you must<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span> -let us send it to you. Good-bye, and thank you!” -Her voice as she spoke had the quality of sympathy.</p> - -<p>He watched her for a moment as she stopped -by the other cots, inquiring in pretty broken -Spanish for the welfare of the occupants. “Hang -it,” he thought, “I wish she would not look at -that Mexican in just the way that she looked at -me!” With his eyes he followed her as long as -he could, then when the tents shut her from view, -he closed his eyes and imagined that she was still -near.</p> - -<p>He picked up the flowers and buried his face -in them. Their sweetness brought up a wave of -memories of the past, of things that he had thrown -away. He bit his lip hard and under his breath -swore bitterly at himself. Then the fragrance -of the flowers soothed him, and he lay back on -his pillow thinking of the girl who had brought -them. She seemed so strange a figure in the life -of Quentin, so aloof, so unrelated! He could not -adjust her to her setting. At last it occurred to -him that it was not necessary for him to adjust -her—in fact that she and her setting were none -of his business.</p> - -<p>Then tired, with the flowers still crushed in -his hand, he fell asleep to the accompaniment<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span> -of the monotonous pound of the smelter. He -dreamed of days gone by, yet through it all, -vaguely, intangibly, there drifted a girl, the tenderness -of whose eyes was blended with the impersonality -of pity.</p> - -<p>As they walked together across the camp, Miss -Cameron remarked to the doctor: “It is strange -how the rough life here seems to train men. He -seemed to be almost a gentleman.”</p> - -<p>Doctor Kline smiled in an amused fashion.</p> - -<p>“There’s a lot here, Miss Cameron, who seem -‘almost a gentleman,’ and they are not the best -kind, either. In fact they come pretty near to -being the worst. Arizona is not the graveyard -of reputations. It’s the hell that comes after -that. Men drift here from every corner of the -world, and from every sort of life. The undercurrent -here is full of derelicts. Nobody questions -about the past or the future here. They -just drift, and it is not so very long before most -of them sink.”</p> - -<p>In the course of forty years of varied experience, -Dr. Kline had never made so long a speech. He -stopped short, and, flushing, looked quickly at -Miss Cameron to see if she were laughing at him. -Her serious expression reassured him, and he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span> -looked at her again; only this time it was for the -purpose of admiration.</p> - -<p>They had reached the door of her father’s -house. It was called a house and not a shack, -partly as a matter of etiquette, being the manager’s -dwelling, and partly because it had a porch. -Also it possessed the added grandeur of two small -wings, which were joined to the one-story, central -building.</p> - -<p>Jean said good-bye to the doctor and went into -the house. Her father was busy at his desk with -some large blue prints of the workings; but he -stopped when she entered.</p> - -<p>“How is the man getting along?” he asked. -“I hope that the poor devil isn’t laid up so that -he can never swing a pick again.”</p> - -<p>“He is much better,” answered Jean, as she -dropped into a big chair beside her father’s desk, -“but, Father, do these men do nothing else all -their lives beside swing picks?”</p> - -<p>Her father smiled, amused at the earnest -manner. “Well, my dear, they are likely to do -so, unless they develop aptitude for ‘polishing’ -the head of a drill, as they say here. In other -words, become miners, instead of ‘muckers,’ in -which case they get their three dollars a day instead<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span> -of two. The difference in social position, -however, which I suppose is what you mean, is -not very great.”</p> - -<p>“I thought that the West was a place where -men rose fast from the ranks, where the opportunities -for success lay at each man’s feet,” said -Jean thoughtfully.</p> - -<p>“That is partially true,” replied her father; -“but you must remember steadiness is needed -as much here as anywhere, and that is a quality -which most men, of a type such as I judge this -Loring to be, have not. Also to reach success -here they have to swim through a river of whisky, -and most of them drown in transit.”</p> - -<p>Jean sat for a moment in silence, the sun playing -tricks of light and shade across the ripples of -her hair and in the depths of her level-gazing -eyes.</p> - -<p>At length she exclaimed suddenly: “Why is it -that they all drink?”</p> - -<p>“Why?” echoed her father. “I have been so -occupied with the result that I have had no time -to consider the cause. The fact is—they have -no other form of relaxation here. Besides, when -men work seven days a week all the year round, -after a while they reach a point where they must<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span> -do something to break the tedium, and drinking -whisky is a convenient method.”</p> - -<p>“Then why do you make them work on Sunday?” -asked Jean. “Why not let them rest -on that day?”</p> - -<p>Her father laughed. “Well, it doesn’t sound -logical after what I have just said, but if they -get Sunday to rest, they are all so drunk that we -have not enough men on Monday to start the -mines. We tried it once. I suppose that the -only explanation of the way the men drink here -is that they do. I think it is a germ in the air.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Cameron turned again to his work. -Jean sat silently beside him watching the firm -lines with which he traced new winzes, drifts, -and cross-cuts on the prints, the precision with -which he wrote his comments on the borders.</p> - -<p>It was a strong face which bent over the table, -strong, stern, and telling of a Scotch ancestry -in which Mr. Cameron took great pride, for -had not one of his forefathers fought in the -army of the Lord of the Isles, and another been -a faithful follower to the end of the hopeless -Stuart cause!</p> - -<p>Clearly loyalty was a tradition of their race, -and typical of that allegiance which still made<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span> -all Scotch things dear to these two descendants -of the old Highlanders, which led the father to -hang on the bare walls of his cabin the shield -of the Camerons with its armorial bearings of -“or, three bars gules,” and impelled Jean to -wear a Scotch cap, and always, somewhere -about her dress, a touch of the red and blue -Cameron plaid.</p> - -<p>Now, as Jean stood at her father’s side, it was -easy to see the family likeness, for all the softening -of age and sex, which had changed the -lines of his face to the curves of hers. The -same spirit looked out from both pairs of eyes, -and if ever there should come a conflict of -wills between the two, there would be as pretty -a fight as once happened at Inverlochie, when -Cameron and the Lord Protector fell foul of -each other.</p> - -<p>Jean Cameron had been only a month in -Quentin. She had begged to join her father and -he had consented, although he had assured her -that she would dislike the life. But from the -first she had loved the place and everything -about it. The atmosphere of crude labor, the -men thrusting down into the mountains and -drawing out the green-crusted ore, the rides<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span> -across the trails, had brought her a sense of -exhilaration.</p> - -<p>She had expected to find in the West the -romance of freedom, of wildness, of the natural -type. Instead, she had found, and it was infinitely -more fascinating, the romance of work, -of risk borne daily as a matter of course, not -from love of danger, but because it meant bread. -To a girl of her keen perception there was a -meaning in it all. It was the first glimpse that -she had ever had of a world where the little -things of life had no existence and where the -big things were the little things.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV</h2> - -<p>During his convalescence, Stephen had -many callers. Mr. Cameron paid him -a short visit, and briskly and efficiently -expressed his gratitude. At least this was the -way in which Loring characterized it to himself, -after his departure. From motives of kindness, -most of the foremen and men from the office -force came in to see him; from motives of self-interest, -the visits were generally repeated, for -Loring combined a drollness, a vein of narrative, -and a wide range of experiences.</p> - -<p>McKay was one of those who dropped in -frequently to discuss the affairs of the camp in -short, jerky sentences, which alternated with the -puffs from his stubby black pipe. Stephen, by a -great amount of reticence as to his own personal -affairs, had won McKay’s respect as a wise man. -He was by nature of an exuberant temperament; -but experience had taught him that taciturnity -was the best way to acquire a reputation for -solidity in a community. About four years previous<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span> -to this time, when he had embarked in -life in the West, the first man under whom he -had worked had commented upon his garrulous -propensities rather caustically. His words: -“You don’t want to talk too much in this world, -young feller; it ain’t pleasant,” had been borne -in upon Loring to the great improvement of -his character. McKay had once in the course -of a discussion of different men’s capabilities -expressed the Western view very tersely. He -had said: “The wisest man I ever knew was a -fellow in Nogales. I never heard him open his -mouth once!”</p> - -<p>Loring’s visitors, however, were not all of -such a character. Every morning Miss Cameron -came into the hospital and greeted Stephen -with a gay smile that made pain seem a base -currency with which to pay for such happiness. -He had come to look forward to the few minutes -during which she talked to him as the oasis -of his day. As time went on, his thoughts of her -grew more absorbing. A man when convalescent -can, with the greatest of ease, fall in love with -an abstract ideal, so that when a very charming -concrete example was near, the process of dreaming -speedily crystallized to a point where Stephen<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span> -found himself very much in love. For many -hours after one of her visits he lay staring at the -ceiling, trying to find some adjective by which to -describe her. Failing in his direct search, he -fell back on the method of question and answer. -Was she beautiful? he asked himself. It was -many years since he had seen women of her class, -and it was hard for him to find a comparative -standard. He was certain that she was a joy to -look upon. Had she sympathy? Her kindness -to the sick Mexicans in the hospital was a ready -answer to that question. Was she feminine? -She had a quality of comradeship and companionship -combined, which previously he had only -associated with men. Yet back of it was a latent -coquetry, and unconsciously it piqued him to feel -that towards him there was no trace of it. Strive -as he would, he could find no word which could -fit all the opposing sides of her character, her -aloof frankness, her subtle force.</p> - -<p>“Fall-in-love-withable-ness,” he reflected, “is -not a recognized word, and yet it is the one -that describes her.”</p> - -<p>At last came the days when with effort at -first, then with ease, he could stroll from shack -to shack about the camp. He often spent his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span> -time in the assay office, watching the assayer -tend the delicate balances, or precipitate the -metal from the various shades of blue liquid -which stood on the ledge by the window in neat -rows of test-tubes. Then there was the <i lang="es">tienda</i>, -where, sitting on a box in the corner, he could -watch the Mexicans as they crowded up to the -bookkeeper’s window, loudly calling out their -numbers, and asking for coupons. The air in -the store was always thick with the smell of -“<i lang="es">Ricorte</i>” or “<i lang="es">Pedro</i>” tobacco. There were -also in the glass cases gaudy tinfoil-wrapped -cigars, “<i lang="es">Dos Nationes</i>,” which the more lavish -and wealthy purchased, and which added a -slightly more expensive hue to the smoky atmosphere. -Often, too, he would loaf about the -draughting-room, where at first he amused himself -by drawing exceedingly impressionistic -sketches on the bits of paper that were scattered -about.</p> - -<p>Stephen possessed that rare quality of being -able to loaf without being in the way. His loafing -added a pleasant background to work that -others were doing, instead of being an irritant. -Gradually he came to helping Duncan, the surveyor, -to check up his figures, and, much to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span> -latter’s surprise, in speedy fashion worked out -logarithms for him. Loring as a subordinate always -did so well that it made his incompetency, -when given responsibility, doubly disappointing. -Duncan, whose mathematical methods -were, though no doubt safer, far slower, grew -to have an excessive opinion of Loring’s ability, -and expressed it about the camp. He often -questioned Stephen as to where he had acquired -his knowledge of logarithms; but Loring always -told him that he had merely picked it up at a -way station on the journey of life. As curiosity -about others rarely goes deep in Arizona, the -subject had been finally taken for granted, and -dropped.</p> - -<p>One day while Stephen was working with -Duncan, Mr. Cameron entered the room, and -said abruptly: “Well, Loring, are you about -ready for work?”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said Stephen, “I was going to work -for Mr. McKay again to-morrow.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Cameron paused for a moment, and -looked him over carefully. He noticed the clear -light of the eyes, and he was pleased. He noticed -the indecisive lines at the corners of the -mouth, hesitated, and almost imperceptibly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span> -shook his head. Years of experience had taught -him to read men’s faces well. This was the first -which he had ever liked, and yet not quite -trusted. The combination of feeling puzzled -him.</p> - -<p>Loring had begun to flush a trifle under the -sharp scrutiny, before Mr. Cameron again -spoke.</p> - -<p>“I was thinking of giving you a position on -the hoist. The man on Number Three is going -to quit to-morrow.” Mr. Cameron said “quit,” -with a little snap of the jaw, that left no doubt -as to why the man was going to leave. “Do -you know anything about the work?” he -went on.</p> - -<p>Loring’s “No, but I think perhaps I can -learn,” seemed to irritate Mr. Cameron, who -exclaimed: “Good Lord, man! ‘think perhaps -you may be able to learn.’ ‘Think perhaps!’ -Here you are going to have men’s lives -in your hands. It is no place for a man who -thinks ‘perhaps.’ Still I will try you. You will -receive three dollars and a half for eight hours, -and overtime, extra. At that the work is not -hard. You can go up to the shaft now. Colson, -the man whom you are going to try to replace, is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span> -on shift, and he will teach you what he can. -You go on the pay-roll to-morrow.” Cutting -short Stephen’s thanks, Mr. Cameron abruptly -left the office.</p> - -<p>Duncan began to chuckle quietly.</p> - -<p>“It is damned lucky for you, Loring, that you -didn’t go on much further with your theories -of ‘thinking perhaps.’ I don’t know where -you were before you came here, and I don’t care; -but here it will help you some to remember that -it is only what you <em>do</em> know or <em>can</em> do that -counts.”</p> - -<p>Stephen took cheerfully this good advice, and -after securing his hat, he stretched himself comfortably -in the doorway, then started up the -hill to the mine. In the hot glare he climbed the -tramway which led from the hungry ore cribs by -the smelter to Number Three hoist. He was -still weak, and the climb tired him considerably. -Several times, in the course of the few -hundred yards, he stopped and rested. As -many times more he was compelled to step to one -side of the track in order to let the funny, squat, -little ore cars whiz by him, the brake cable behind -them stretching taut, and whining with the -peculiar note of metal under tension. When at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span> -last, tired and out of breath, he reached the -hoist box, Colson gave him a sour greeting.</p> - -<p>“Damned boiler leaks like a sieve. Have to -keep stoking her all the time. Engine is always -getting centered. Wish you joy! It’s the worst -job I ever tackled.”</p> - -<p>In answer to Loring’s request for instructions, -Colson slowly wiped his hands on a bit of oily -waste, and having taken a fresh chew of tobacco, -proceeded to explain the working of the drum -hoist, and the signal code.</p> - -<p>For the rest of the afternoon, under Colson’s -supervision, Stephen managed the clutch that -governed the cable, and at the ever recurring -clang of one bell, ran the ore buckets with great -speed up the shaft. Whenever the signal of -three bells, followed by one, rang out, he brought -the buckets slowly and decorously to the surface, -for that told of a human load. Loring, in -spite of apparent clumsiness, possessed a great -amount of deftness, and he was soon running the -hoist fairly well, although the jerks with which -the engine was brought to a standstill told the -miners that a new and inexperienced hand was at -the clutch.</p> - -<p>At half-past three the men of the shift began<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span> -to signal to come to the surface. Loring asked -Colson how, when the shift did not end till four, -this was allowed. Colson explained that as the -mine was non-Union, and employed mostly -Mexican labor, the piece work system was in -use. When the men had filled a certain number -of buckets, they could come to the surface regardless -of the time. The result had been that -more work was accomplished than formerly, -while the miners had shorter hours.</p> - -<p>“That is all very pleasant,” reflected Stephen, -“if the company, having seen how active the -men can be, does not increase the number of -buckets required.”</p> - -<p>Shortly before four o’clock they were relieved -by the engineer for the next shift, who undertook -the task of lowering the waiting men. Then -Colson and Loring, picking up their coats, -walked slowly down the hill into the camp. -At the smelter Loring parted with Colson and -walked over to his own quarters. Since his -dismissal from the hospital, he had been sharing -a tent with one of the shift bosses—a man -about whom Stephen knew little except the fact -that he was named Lynn, and that he never -washed. The company rented tents with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span> -board floors, for two dollars a month, so that -when the quarters were shared, household expenses -were not large.</p> - -<p>As Loring threw back the wire-screened door -of the tent, Lynn, from within, greeted him with -mild interest.</p> - -<p>“I hear they are goin’ to try you on Number -Three. Now over where I used to work in Black -Eagle, they wouldn’t let a green man even smell -the hoist. It ain’t safe, nor legal. But I suppose -the Boss had to give you <em>some</em> job. All -wrong, though.”</p> - -<p>Loring kept discreet silence in answer to this, -and after fetching a bucket of water, proceeded -to wash with many splashes. This annoyed -Lynn, who grunted: “How can a man do any -work with you wallowin’ round like a herd of -steers?” Then he returned to his previous occupation -of poring over location papers for some -claims of his “up yonder.” These claims were -the joke of the camp, on account of their remoteness -from any known ore vein, yet Lynn, unaffected -by the waves of exultation or depression -which from time to time swept through the camp, -year by year persisted in doggedly doing his assessment -work.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span></p> - -<p>In Arizona almost every man, no matter what -his occupation or station, has “some claims up -in the hills.” These claims furnish the romance -of his life, for always beneath the grimmest -present lies the golden “perhaps” of a rich -strike.</p> - -<p>Stephen sat on the edge of his cot, rolling a -cigarette and watching Lynn’s profile.</p> - -<p>“There are some people,” he meditated, -“who would not look cheerful if they were paid -so much a smile.” When Lynn had finished his -papers, he rose with solemn deliberative slowness, -took down a black felt hat from a wooden -peg on the tent pole, transferred his toothpick -from the left side of his mouth to the right, and -slouched towards the door.</p> - -<p>“Come on over to grub!” he called back. -Loring joined him, and together they walked -over to the company mess.</p> - -<p>As they picked their way along the sordid -road, Stephen looked at the dirty houses of the -Mexicans with a feeling of repulsion. They -were built from all the refuse that could be -gathered: old sheet iron, quilts, suwara rods, a -few boards, broken pieces of glass and tarred -paper. A broken-down wagon, on one wheel,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span> -lurching in a dissipated fashion against a boulder, -added to the disreputability of the tin-can-strewn -road. While he and Lynn were plodding -moodily along, Stephen suddenly heard behind -him the clatter of horses’ hoofs. He turned. -The scene no longer seemed sordid, for riding -up the road was Miss Cameron. Around her -rode five or six little girls,—the camp children,—their -legs, too short to reach the stirrups, -stuck in the leathers, their hair flying in all -directions, while their stiff little gingham dresses -fluttered in the breeze. Jean, riding a gray pony, -sat clean limbed and lithe across the saddle. -The deep full modeling of breast and thigh, the -proud carriage of the shoulders, and the easy -swing of her body to the lope of the horse—all -bespoke high health and keen enjoyment. Her -khaki skirt fell on either side in yellow folds -against the oiled brown of the saddle. She -wore no hat, and the sunlight struck clear and -sparkling upon her tawny hair. Her color was -fresh from the sting of the wind.</p> - -<p>Stephen stepped aside to let the little cavalcade -pass; but Miss Cameron reined in her pony, -and smilingly greeted him and his companion. -Her convoy of little girls bade her a grateful<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span> -“good-bye,” and scattered to their homes in the -various parts of the camp.</p> - -<p>“You seem to be a ‘Pied Piper of Hamelin,’” -remarked Stephen, looking up at her. Lynn -for some reason appeared uneasy.</p> - -<p>“No, I don’t decoy them,” she answered. “In -fact, I try hard to get away from them, but they -are not allowed to ride alone in the valley, and -consequently whenever they see my pony saddled -they swarm about me like bees and cannot -be shaken off. Are you sure that you are strong -enough to be out of the hospital?” Miss Cameron -added, scrutinizing Stephen with friendly -solicitude.</p> - -<p>Loring was busying himself with the problem -of whether her eyes were really gray or blue. -He gathered his wits together however to answer -that he was growing better steadily.</p> - -<p>“Well, good night, and be sure to continue to -get better!” The girl shook the reins of her -pony, and galloped off towards the corral.</p> - -<p>Lynn could no longer contain himself.</p> - -<p>“Look a-here, Loring. I don’t know where -you was brought up, but Miss Cameron is a lady, -if ever I seed one, and whar I come from, gentlemen -don’t call ladies ‘Pi-eyed Pipers.’”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span></p> - -<p>Stephen, with a start, came out of his wistful -mood, then almost collapsed with laughter. -Lynn stalked along in silent wrath, not speaking -another word until they entered the mess -room.</p> - -<p>It was half-past five, and the room was still -crowded, though that many had come and gone -was attested by the pools of coffee on the zinc -tables, the bread crumbs on the floor, and the -great piles of dirty dishes. In a mining camp -five o’clock is the fashionable supper hour, and -he who comes late has cause to rue it. Loring -and his companion cleared places for themselves, -and after the necessary preliminaries of wiping -their cracked plates on their sleeves, and obtaining -their share from the great bowl of stew in the -center of the table, they proceeded to eat in -businesslike silence. There had been a time -when such surroundings would have taken away -Stephen’s appetite, but that was far away. -The proprietor walked frequently up and down -the room, answering mildly the contumely -heaped upon the food. He carried a large bucket -from which he replenished the coffee cups. -Stephen quickly reached the dessert stage of the -meal, and the proprietor set that course before<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span> -him. It consisted of two very shiny canned -peaches, floating in a dubious juice.</p> - -<p>The man who owned the eating house was of -a quiet, depressed nature developed by years of -endeavor to please boarders’ appetites at one dollar -a day and make a profit of seventy-five cents. -Ordinarily dessert consisted of one canned peach. -Loring’s double allowance was a silent tribute to -the fact that he did not rail at the food as did the -others, and to the fact that once, when the purveyor -had “spread himself” and served canned -oysters, Stephen had thanked him. This had -been the third time that the man had been -thanked in all his life, and he stowed it away -in his strange placid brain.</p> - -<p>When Stephen had finished his meal, he rose -and joined the group of men, who, as customary -after supper, were lounging on the steps. The -proprietor, wearing his usual apologetic smile, -soon joined them.</p> - -<p>“Pretty good supper, boys?” he remarked -tentatively.</p> - -<p>Some one in the crowd moaned drearily. -“Say, I know what good food is. I used to eat -up at the Needles, at a place so swell they give -Mexicans pie. Reg’lar sort of Harvey house, that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span> -was.” The proprietor, still smiling, sadly withdrew, -and the crowd returned to its former occupations: -commenting on the thin ponies of -the Mexicans who galloped by, and trying to -catch the eyes of the señoritas as they strolled -past, arm in arm, seemingly stolid alike to the -attentions and to the jests of the men.</p> - -<p>Many of the Indians, who had been brought -from the San Carlos Reservation to work on the -railway grade, were in camp to make their simple -purchases of supplies. Stephen noticed with -disgust the way the braves sat astride their ponies -with indolent grace, while beside them walked -the squaws, with the papooses slung in blankets -over their shoulders.</p> - -<p>“Good example of the ‘noble redman,’ isn’t -it!” he exclaimed to McKay.</p> - -<p>“Well, what can you expect?” chuckled the -latter. “You know in their marriage ceremony -the brave puts the bit of his pony in the mouth of -his prospective bride. Sort of a symbol of equality -and companionship between man and wife, -I reckon.”</p> - -<p>As the twilight turned to dusk, the group -gradually dissolved, till Loring alone was left -on the steps. It was peaceful there, and as he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span> -drew on his old black pipe, a healthy feeling of -contentment permeated him. He felt that he -could do his new work well. His last lessons, he -thought, had taught him concentration. He -saw himself working up again to a position of -power. For some reason that even to himself -was only vaguely defined, he felt that now it was -all infinitely worth while. As for drink, he -merely thought of it as an episode of the past. -Stephen’s worst fault lay in not grappling with his -enemies until they had him by the throat. As he -sat smoking and dreaming, he was aroused by a -cheerful salutation.</p> - -<p>“Howdy, me bludder? Me bludder, he feel -fine?”</p> - -<p>Stephen looked up to see Hop Wah standing -in the road before him. With his derby hat, -yellow face, coal black pig-tail, and with a -five-cent cigar drooping from one corner of his -mouth Wah was a strange combination of Occident -and Orient.</p> - -<p>“Fine, thanks!” answered Loring, “but what -are you doing up here in camp now, Wah?”</p> - -<p>Wah proudly puffed at his cigar, and blew a -wreath of gray smoke from between his flat lips.</p> - -<p>“Me cook for the company here, now. Makee<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span> -pie ebbrey day. Oh, lubbly, lubbly pie! Me -bludder come to back door, and I give him some. -Oh, lubbly, lubbly pie! Goodee bye. Goodee -bye, me bludder!” Then Wah departed in the -direction of the <i lang="es">tienda</i>, marching cheerfully -along to his old refrain: “La, la, boom, boom; -la, la, boom, boom.”</p> - -<p>“The crazy Chinaman!” laughed Stephen. -“He certainly enjoys life, though.” Loring rose -and knocked out the ashes of his pipe on the -steps. Then he walked towards his tent. They -were just dumping the slag from the smelter, and -he watched the glowing slag pot shoot along the -track in front of him. As if by magic it checked -at the end of the heap, and poured its molten, -flashing stream far over the embankment. The -whole camp glowed with a clear, all-suffusing -orange light. The outline of the surrounding -mountains loomed out blue-black. The glow -faded to dull red, then dwindled to a mere -thread of light, then disappeared, and all was -dark again.</p> - -<p>During the next two months, with a concentration -of which he had never before thought himself -capable, Stephen slaved at learning his task. -To feel that in his hands lay the lives of the sixteen<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span> -men of the shift gave him a sense of responsibility, -which in all his former work had been -completely lacking. He was so faithful in the -performance of his duties that even the critical -Mr. Cameron was secretly pleased, while Jean -watched with growing interest her father’s experiment, -and felt that at last Loring had ceased -to drift.</p> - -<p>Stephen, on his part, carried in his heart one -memory which shortened his working day, gladdened -his leisure hours, and left no time for vain -regrets. This was the thought of one evening -which he had spent at Mr. Cameron’s house, on -the occasion of a “Gringo” dance, whereto all -the workers in camp, except the Mexicans, had -been bidden, in celebration of Washington’s -birthday.</p> - -<p>Often did Stephen recall the flag-draped room, -the Mexican orchestra, which in color resembled -a slice of strawberry, vanilla, and chocolate ice-cream. -He remembered the lantern-lighted porch, -its lamps blending with the soft darkness of the -southern night, hung with its own lanterns of -stars.</p> - -<p>But all these were only a background of his -real memories, which were the warm touch of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span> -Jean’s hand, as he had held it in the dance for -five blessed minutes, and the sound of her voice -as she had talked with him on the porch, in the -brief intervals when the guests had gathered -around the musicians, to invoke the “Star Spangled -Banner” and urge that long might it -“Wa-a-ave!”</p> - -<p>What they had talked about Stephen scarcely -knew; but he had a confused impression that -under the commonplaces of their talk had lurked, -on her part, a hint of friendship which made his -dreams perhaps not quite so wild, for he recognized -in her something softly invincible which -once having given friendship would never withdraw -it, though the skies fell. In fact, while -Loring was playing cards over the mess -table one evening, Jean was putting her friendship -to the proof in another quarter of the -camp.</p> - -<p>“Father, he is a gentleman.” Jean made this -remark after a period of silence, during which -she had sat on the porch of the shack, contemplating -the moon as it rode high in the unclouded -sky.</p> - -<p>“Who is a gentleman? The man in the moon?” -As he asked the question, Mr. Cameron withdrew<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span> -his cigar from his mouth, and pulled the smoke in -leisurely rings into the air.</p> - -<p>“No,” Jean answered, “not the man in the -moon; the man on the hoist, Stephen Loring.”</p> - -<p>“What made you think of him?”</p> - -<p>“I met him this afternoon in the valley. That -put him into my head.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I advise you to take him out again.”</p> - -<p>“Not at all. I shall keep him there. He interests -me, because he is a gentleman.”</p> - -<p>“What are the hall-marks of a gentleman?”</p> - -<p>“Oh,” said Jean slowly, “there are a hundred -little signs which cannot be suppressed. A -deacon may turn into a horse thief, or a millionaire -into a beggar; but once a gentleman, -always a gentleman. Mr. Loring tries to hide -it; but he cannot. Oh, haven’t you noticed -the difference?”</p> - -<p>“Between Loring and the other men? No, I -cannot say that I have. But I am not particularly -interested in the question whether my hoist -engineers are gentlemen.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t you think you ought to be?”</p> - -<p>“Why?”</p> - -<p>Jean clasped her hands around her knee and -looked out over the dim hills bathed in the mist<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span> -of the moonlight. After a while she said: “It -must be very lonely for a gentleman in a camp -like this.”</p> - -<p>“If you are thinking of Loring,” said her father, -“he is busy all day and he can go to the mess in -the evening.”</p> - -<p>“The mess!” exclaimed Jean scornfully. “Yes, -fine place for a gentleman, where the men chew -tobacco and drink whisky all the evening, and -tell stories as long as they are broad!”</p> - -<p>“All terribly offensive no doubt to a sensitive -soul like your Mr. Loring,” answered Mr. Cameron. -“Perhaps,” he added with fine sarcasm, -“you would like to have him take his meals with -us.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I would like to ask him here sometime. -It is good in you to think of it,” replied his daughter -calmly.</p> - -<p>“It cannot be done, Jean. It cannot be done,” -Mr. Cameron said with decision. “Discrimination -among the men breeds discontent. I think -that we have done full enough for Loring as it is.”</p> - -<p>“Do you?” Jean responded, with the audacity -of a hot temper. “Well, I do not; but then it -was my life that he saved, and perhaps that makes -me see the thing differently. I am thinking that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span> -when a man saves your life you cannot get rid -of the obligation by throwing him a job, as you -might toss a bone to a dog. I am thinking that -he has some claim on the life that he has given -back, and that the other person should spend a -little of it in doing something for him.”</p> - -<p>“And, pray, what has his being a gentleman to -do with all this?” asked Mr. Cameron, whose -wrath took the form of sarcasm. “Suppose that -Colson or Lynn had saved your life, would you -have wished to have him at the house?”</p> - -<p>“Neither of them would have wished to -come.”</p> - -<p>“That is not honest, Jean. You know that -they would; but you would never ask them, -except to one of your camp dances. You would -not if they had saved your life twenty times.”</p> - -<p>“I should try to do something for them, something -that they would like; but if people are not -of your kind there is no use in inviting them. -There is no kindness in it in the end.”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps,” said her father, “there would prove -to be no kindness in the end in what you wish to -do for Loring.”</p> - -<p>“Very well. There is no use in arguing with a -Scotchman; but I warn you that I shall make it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span> -up to him in friendliness. The other men can -scarcely object to that.”</p> - -<p>With these words Jean rose from the steps and, -passing through the door, entered the little living-room -where she picked up a guitar from the -window-seat, and to its accompaniment began to -sing in a low voice. What was the song she -chose? Why, it was “Jock o’ Hazeldean.” If -ever a song expressed flat mutiny it is that one, -and it lost nothing in expression from Jean -Cameron’s rendering, from the beginning where -the heroine refuses to be commanded or cajoled, -to the last line where “She’s o’er the border and -awa’ wi’ Jock o’ Hazeldean.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Cameron was justified in being angry; -but who could resist a voice like Jean Cameron’s? -Evidently not Jean’s father, for when the girl -came out again and smiling laid her hand upon -his shoulder, Mr. Cameron relaxed the grimness -of his expression.</p> - -<p>“Well, well, lassie, we will see what can be done -for your gentleman engineer,” he said encouragingly; -“but don’t be ‘o’er the border and awa’’ -with Jock, till we know a little more about him, -and about what is thought of him in Hazeldean.”</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V</h2> - -<p>“Oh, Loring. Have you heard the news?” -Stephen, on his way to breakfast, on -the morning of the Fourth of July, -stopped until McKay joined him.</p> - -<p>“No. What is the matter?”</p> - -<p>“There is to be a half holiday to-day,” went -on McKay.</p> - -<p>“The devil there is! I did not know that such -things existed this side of heaven.”</p> - -<p>“In which case you would never see one,” -laughed McKay. “But to-day there is to be one. -In my opinion, we owe it to Miss Cameron’s influence -with her father. Every one can knock -off work at twelve o’clock. Look at the notice!”</p> - -<p>On the office wall, beneath the usual “<i lang="es">No -Entrada—Oficina</i>,” was a big placard which conveyed -the news in English and Spanish. Stephen -read it with satisfaction.</p> - -<p>“I think that will make breakfast taste rather -well. What is your opinion, Mac?”</p> - -<p>“That comes pretty close to my jedgments,”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span> -answered McKay. “Hey, Wah, you crazy Chinaman; -quit hammering that gong!”</p> - -<p>This last was addressed to Hop Wah, who was -standing on the porch of the eating house, hammering -with a railroad spike upon an iron gong.</p> - -<p>“Me hab to. Else me lazy pig bludders allee -late. La, la, boom, boom! Breakfas’. Nice hot -cakes. Oh, lubbly, lubbly cakes; eggs this mornin’. -Goodee canned eggs. Oh, lubbly; la, la”—Wah -fled precipitately into the kitchen, as Loring -and McKay made gestures of killing him.</p> - -<p>They were the first at the mess, and while the -sleepy stragglers filed in, one by one, they ate -their oatmeal in comfort. They took a lazy -pleasure in watching the surprise, and listening -to the ejaculations, with which the news of the -half holiday was received. “Thin Jim,” who -always presided at the head of the table, on account -of his so-called “boarding house arm,” -which enabled him to be of vast service as a waiter, -professed to be so astounded at the news as to be -incapable of performing his duties.</p> - -<p>“What with a dance on Washington’s birthday, -and a half holiday to-day, why, we’re becomin’ -sort of a leisure class,” he remarked.</p> - -<p>“Well, look out that you don’t deteriorate<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span> -under the strain,” laughed Loring. “Has any -one a match?” The only real system in all Loring’s -habits of life was his custom of rising early -enough to have time for a smoke between breakfast -and work.</p> - -<p>In the afternoon the camp was alive with shouts -and hilarity. On the slag dump two baseball -games were in progress, of such excitement that -the umpires had early withdrawn; while some -one had established in the gulch an impromptu -shooting gallery, whence the quick rattle of reports -told of financial success.</p> - -<p>Stephen sat with Duncan on the steps of the -assay office while the latter checked up his figures -for the morning’s work.</p> - -<p>“The ore from Number Three is running six -per cent these days,” he exclaimed, as he tossed -his note-book into the office.</p> - -<p>Together they watched the trail leading out -from the camp, down which rode little groups of -horsemen, lounging in the saddle. The smoke -from their cigarettes trailed thinly blue behind -them.</p> - -<p>“There goes domesticity for you, Steve!” said -Duncan. He pointed to a family group riding -by. Old Tom Jenkins, the smelter boss, with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span> -his wife, was starting for a trip to the river. Three -children were strung in various attitudes across -their saddles.</p> - -<p>“It seems as if every one were going for a -ride,” commented Stephen. “Shall we fall in -line with the popular amusement?”</p> - -<p>“I haven’t got a horse,” answered Duncan, -“and all the company <i lang="es">caballos</i> will be out to-day. -I heard old Hodges down at the corral after -lunch cursing like a pirate at the amount of -saddling that he had to do. Right in the midst -of his growling, Miss Cameron came along, and -wanted a horse. The old man pretty nearly fell -over himself trying to accommodate her. There’s -something about her that seems to affect people -that way. Quite a convenient trait, I should -think!”</p> - -<p>Stephen agreed silently, and in his mind added -considerably more, then strode off to the corral -for his pony.</p> - -<p>As he slung the saddle across his horse’s back -and cinched the girth, he fumbled a little, for -his mind was not upon the task, but upon a certain -curl, which defying combs or hairpins, waved -capriciously at the turn of a girl’s neck.</p> - -<p>Horses, however, have little sympathy with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span> -sentiment, and while Loring tugged absent-mindedly -at the straps, the little beast puffed -and squealed, trying to arrange for a comfortable -space between his round, gray belly and the -girth. Stephen, placing his left hand on the head-piece, -and his right on the pommel, swung himself -into the saddle, in spite of the pony’s antics. -Soon he was loping out of camp, and down towards -the river. The clear sunshine struck his neck -beneath his broad hat; the alkali dust tasted -smoky and almost invigorating.</p> - -<p>As he left the camp behind him, he laughed -and sang softly to himself, beating with his unspurred -heel the time of his song against his -pony’s ribs. He blessed the extravagance which -had led him to invest half a month’s pay in “<i lang="es">Muy -Bueno</i>,” as the horse was christened to indicate -the owner’s assurance that he was “very fine.” -Leaning forward, Loring playfully pulled “<i lang="es">Muy -Bueno’s</i>” ears. The pony shook its head in annoyance. -This was no holiday for him.</p> - -<p>After a short distance the ground began to rise, -and the pony, with lowered head, buckled to his -task, resolutely attacking the trail which zig-zagged -up the steep mountainside.</p> - -<p>Half way up the rise stood a saloon. As Loring<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span> -approached it, he heard roars of laughter. In it -there was that quality which only liquor can produce. -As he drew nearer he could see the reason -for the laughter. Before the saloon was a girl -on horseback, her pony balking, and flatly refusing -to proceed. The doorway was full of half -drunken miners, calling out advice of varied import. -The saloon keeper, himself a bit flushed, -called out: “She’s got Tennessee Bob’s old pony. -He never would go by here without taking a -drink, and I reckon the horse sort of inherited -the habit.”</p> - -<p>Stephen took in the situation at once. Riding -up quickly, he cut the stubborn pony across the -flank with his quirt. The animal quivered for -a moment, then as another stinging blow fell, -galloped on up the trail.</p> - -<p>“Hell, Loring! what you want to do a thing -like that for? Funniest thing I’ve seen in a -month,” growled a man in the crowd.</p> - -<p>Stephen only waved his hand in answer and -rode on after the girl, whom he had no difficulty -in recognizing. A couple of hundred yards -of hard riding brought him up with her.</p> - -<p>Jean’s cheeks were still crimson, but it was as -much from laughter as embarrassment.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Really, Mr. Loring,” she exclaimed, half -breathlessly, “you seem to be always in the -position of a rescuer.”</p> - -<p>“Your horses do seem to have a taste for adventure,” -he replied. “Perhaps I may be allowed -to accompany you on your ride this afternoon,” -continued Stephen. “There might, you know, -be other saloons which your pony was in the habit -of visiting.”</p> - -<p>“I think it would be safer,” assented Jean.</p> - -<p>They were nearing the crest of the hill, and the -trail broadened so that they could ride abreast. -A bevy of quail flushed suddenly up from the -ground, strumming the air sharply. A little -further on, a jack-rabbit jumped into the center -of the trail, looked about, then dove into the -underbrush. To a mind in its normal condition, -these things were but commonplaces. To Stephen -it seemed as if all nature were in an exuberant -mood. The very creak of the leather, or ring of -steel, as now and then one of the horses’ hoofs -struck on stone, fell in with the tenor of his -spirits. There are few men who could ride over -the Arizona hills with Jean Cameron and doubt -the gloriousness of existence.</p> - -<p>At the summit they drew rein to breathe the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span> -horses. Before them lay the valley of the “Dripping -Spring Wash.” For miles the belt of white -sand in the bottom stretched away darkened with -clumps of drab sage-brush, or with tall wavy lines -which they knew must be cactus. Whiter than -the sand, far out in the valley, a tent gleamed. -Here and there a few moving specks betokened -range cattle. Framing it all were great mountains, -as irregular and barren as floe ice,—blue, -purple, and brown, with streaks of yellow where -the hot rays of the sun struck upon bare earth. -All the detail of the rocky contour showed in the -clear air. The mountains at the end of the valley, -forty miles away, seemed as distinct as if within -a mile. In silence the riders sat their horses, -looking straight before them.</p> - -<p>“I never knew how big life could be until I -saw Arizona,” exclaimed Jean.</p> - -<p>“I never knew how big life could be until—”</p> - -<p>“Until what, Mr. Loring?”</p> - -<p>Loring’s answer was to guide the horses into -the trail that led down to the Wash.</p> - -<p>In a short while they reached the bottom, and -rode out into the valley, where wandering “mavericks,” -or faggot-laden burros had pounded -innumerable hard paths.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span></p> - -<p>Jean shook the bridle of her horse, and calling -back over her shoulder, “Shall we run them?” -was off in a flash. Stephen, urging on his pony, -soon caught up with her, and side by side they -galloped hard up the valley. Leaning forward -in his saddle, he could watch the rich color rush -across the girl’s face, as the speed set her blood -dancing. Her head was tossed backward, -throwing out the clean molded chin, and perhaps -emphasizing the hint of obstinacy concealed -in its rounded finish. Her bridle hand -lay close on the horse’s neck, the small -gloved fingers crushing the reins. From the -amount of attention that Loring was, or -rather was not, paying to his horse, he richly -deserved a fall; but the fates spared him. -Perhaps they, too, were engaged in watching -the girl.</p> - -<p>With a sigh, Jean pulled her horse down to -walk.</p> - -<p>“That was splendid! Why can’t one always -be riding like that?”</p> - -<p>Loring looked at her, amused by the exuberance -of her spirits.</p> - -<p>“A bit hard on the horses as a perpetual thing, -otherwise perfect,” he answered.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span></p> - -<p>She turned to him suddenly. “Have you no -enthusiasms?”</p> - -<p>“I used to have,” answered Stephen, “but -they were not of exactly the right kind. In fact -they made me what I am.”</p> - -<p>“What are you?” she asked, looking at him -directly.</p> - -<p>“A failure—and rather worse, because I am -a poor failure. There is just enough left in me -to make me realize the truth, but not enough to -compel me to do anything about it.”</p> - -<p>Jean thought for a minute, then, with sincere -pity in her face, she asked, “Why?”</p> - -<p>Stephen had resolved never to speak of his -past, of the golden opportunities lost, of the -friends who would have helped if they could; -but as he looked at her, at the slightly parted -lips, at the frank sympathy that shone from her -face, he knew that here was some one who -could understand and perhaps help.</p> - -<p>Slowly at first, controlling the breaks in his -voice, then more evenly, he told her of start after -start, of the relatives who had disowned him, of -drifting and drifting. “Now, here I am, running -a hoist! Well, it is probably the best thing of -which I am capable and I owe it to you and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span> -your father that I have so good a place. I have -been tried and found wanting in almost every -way the Lord could invent, and,” he tried -rather unsuccessfully to smile, “I think I am -down and out.”</p> - -<p>Jean reached out her hand to him, and pressed -his warmly, with the proud confidence of not -being misunderstood.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Loring, I do not believe it. You may -have been and done all that you say, but you -have still the battle ahead of you. I owe my life -to you. You risked yours to save me. I will -not let you go on throwing yourself away, without -trying to help you. I thank you for what -you have told me. I think that I understand. -It is hard perhaps for a girl to realize the truth; -but I do so want to help you! Here in Arizona -you have a fresh chance. Go on and win—and -never forget that I am going to stand by you.”</p> - -<p>Stephen set his teeth and looked straight ahead -of him. Every nerve within him tingled with the -desire to bow his head over the small hand that -lay on his, to crave, he knew not what. Then -he lifted his head and looked at her. “I will -try—and God bless you!”</p> - -<p>So absorbed had the man and girl been in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span> -their talk, that they had failed to realize that -the soft, swift night of Arizona was overtaking -them. Clouds too were gathering in the west -and obscuring the sunset before its time. Jean -noticed it at length and took alarm.</p> - -<p>“We must turn and ride fast,” she said hastily. -“My father will be worried if we are late. I -think I remember this path which cuts into the -trail again farther on and is a shorter way. Let -us take it!”</p> - -<p>Without waiting for Loring’s assent, she -dashed off to the left. Stephen followed her with -some misgiving. He had known too much of -the devious windings of these half-beaten paths -and would have chosen the longer way around in -confidence of its proving the shorter way home.</p> - -<p>On and on they rode in the gathering darkness -till at length they could scarcely see a yard -ahead of them, and were forced to drop the reins -on the necks of the ponies, realizing that in such -a situation instinct is a far safer guide than -reason. Loring took the lead, and rode slowly -and cautiously, peering about him in the vain -hope of discovering the right way. At length -his pony balked suddenly and threw back its -ears. “Stop!” Stephen called back, as he slipped<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span> -hastily from the saddle and took a step forward -to investigate the cause of “<i lang="es">Muy Bueno’s</i>” -fright. One step was enough, for it showed him -that the ground dropped off into space at his -very feet. “Whew!” he whistled softly to himself. -Then aloud he said: “I am afraid, Miss -Cameron, that you must dismount. Wait and -let me help you!” But before he could reach -her the girl was out of her saddle and at his side. -She saw their danger and paled at its nearness. -Then she said quietly: “Of course it is my -fault; but we need not talk about that now. -The question is, what are we going to do?”</p> - -<p>“The only thing we can do is to grope our -way back by the way we have come, and hope by -good luck to reach the main trail again. If the -moon would only come up, we might at least get -our bearings,” said Loring.</p> - -<p>“We ought to be somewhere near the Bingham -mine,” Jean reflected aloud. “Mr. Bingham -is a friend of my father’s and we have ridden -over to supper in his camp once or twice. But -I don’t know—I have lost all faith in my skill -as a pilot.”</p> - -<p>Loring took hold of the bridles and turned -the ponies. Then mounting, they rode into the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span> -darkness, where a slight thread of openness -seemed to show their path. Time and time again -the horses, sure-footed as they were, stumbled -and went down on their knees, only to pick -themselves up with a shake and a plunge. Wandering -cattle had beaten so many blind paths -through the chaparral or between the rocks that -the riders were often forced to stop and retrace -their way, searching for new openings. Stephen -was afraid. It was a new sensation for him to -have any dread of the uncertain; but every time -that Miss Cameron’s horse slipped or hesitated -he turned nervously in the saddle on the lookout -for some accident to her. His was a nature which -danger elated, but responsibility depressed. -Had he been alone he would have rejoiced in the -stubbornness of the way, in the rasp of the cactus -as his boots scratched against it, in the uncertain -sliding and the quick checking of his -horse; but now they worried him, so intent was -he on the safety of the girl with him. He knew -that only good fortune could find their way for -them before sunrise and he prayed for good fortune -in a way that made up for his past unbelief -in such a thing.</p> - -<p>Jean’s cheerfulness and acceptance of conditions<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span> -only made it harder for him, as, with every -sense alert, he led the way towards what he -hoped was their goal.</p> - -<p>And fear was not the only emotion that struck -at his heart. Mingled with his anxiety was a -rushing glow of happiness, of fierce exultation -such as he had never experienced in his life. -The fact that under his care, alone in the Arizona -night, was the girl whom he loved, thrilled -and shook him. The soft note of confidence in -her voice, her unconscious appeal to him for -protection, made the stinging blood rush to his -face, made him crush the bridle in a grip as of -a vise. “Alone!” he murmured. “Is there in -God’s world any such aloneness as two together -when the world is a countless distance away, -when each second is precious as a lifetime!” -His voice, when he spoke to her, sounded to him -dry and forced. It was only by superhuman -control that when he guided her horse to the -right or left he did not cry out his need of her. -Yet through all the electric silence he knew that -he had no right to speak of love, no right even to -love her. His mood was of that intensity which -cares not for its reaction on others. Through it -all he did not think or imagine that she could<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span> -care; and yet he was happy, happy with that -joy of a great emotion so sweeping as not to -know pain from pleasure and not to care. For -the first time in his life he realized what it was -to live, not to think or to care, but to <em>live</em>.</p> - -<p>And she? She could not have been a woman -and not have known, even though the imprisoned -words had not escaped; but from knowing -to caring is a very long road, and not only has it -many turnings, but often it doubles upon itself.</p> - -<p>After an hour of this blind riding, they suddenly -found themselves following a well-beaten -track. A tip of bright gold appeared from behind -the black mountains, then a crescent, then a -semicircle, and almost before they realized it -the trail was flooded with the splendor of the -full-rounded moon. As they watched, they were -startled by the soft thud of a horse’s hoofs behind -them. Stephen, a bit uneasy as to the newcomer, -wheeled his horse sharply to meet him, -and slipped his riding gauntlet from his right -hand, prepared to shoot or to shake as the occasion -might necessitate. He was greatly surprised, -when the stranger drew abreast of them, -to hear him exclaim in a cheerful bass voice: -“Miss Cameron! How did you come here?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span></p> - -<p>“That is just what we want to know. The -only thing we want to know more is how to get -out by any other way than past the cliff which -we almost rode over in the darkness. This is -Mr. Loring, Mr. Bingham, one of the hoist engineers -at Quentin. Darkness overtook us -while we were riding, and I thought that I knew -a short cut. I did not, it seems, and here we -are.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, and a mighty narrow escape you had -if you were up by the divide yonder. It drops off -a good five hundred feet. Cleverness of your -horses, I suppose. Positively uncanny the instinct -of those little beasts! Well, as it happens, -you have been riding only a few rods from -the path which you were looking for, only that -winds around the divide, and not over it. I am -on my way to our camp just below here. You’ll -stop to supper with us, of course,” he added, as -the lights of his camp suddenly twinkled from -behind a spur in the hills.</p> - -<p>“Not to-night, thank you,” Jean answered. -“I am afraid that my father will be worried as -it is, and would soon be scouring the mountains -for us.”</p> - -<p>“It might look a little as if you’d run off together,”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span> -Mr. Bingham chuckled with obtuse -humor. Suddenly Jean, who had been all gratitude, -felt that she could, with great pleasure, -see him go over the cliff which they had avoided. -She would have liked to reply to his remark with -something either jocular or haughty; but instead -she was conscious of a stiff, shy pause, broken by -Loring’s query as to how the ore was running -in the Bingham mine.</p> - -<p>“Decidedly he is a gentleman,” reflected -Jean, and then the scene of her talk with her -father flashed over her,—the porch, the living-room, -the guitar, the song “She’s o’er the border -and awa’ wi’ Jock o’ Hazeldean.”</p> - -<p>Suddenly she laughed aloud. Both men -turned in their saddles to see what could have -caused her sudden mirth. “Only an echo,” Jean -explained. “It sounded like a girl’s voice. It -is gone now. Don’t stop!”</p> - -<p>Mr. Bingham seemed so grieved to have them -pass the camp without dismounting that Jean, -realizing that a neglect of his proffered hospitality -would wound him unnecessarily, consented -to take a cup of coffee. Mrs. Bingham -brought it to them with her own hands, talking -to them eagerly as they drank it. Mr.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span> -Bingham drew out his flask and offered it to -Stephen; but with a glance at Jean, he declined -it and the girl noted the sacrifice with -satisfaction.</p> - -<p>The coffee finished, Jean and Loring bade a -hasty farewell to their hosts, who grieved over -their parting with that true Western hospitality -born of the desolate hills, the long reaches of -sparsely populated country, and the loneliness -of camp life.</p> - -<p>The horses were tired; but their riders had no -notion of sparing them, and rode as fast as the -roughness of the trail permitted. Mr. Bingham’s -ill-timed words had jarred upon their -companionship, and the horses’ hoofs alone -broke the silence which had fallen between -them.</p> - -<p>It was eleven o’clock when they reached -Quentin, and Mr. Cameron was pacing the -porch impatiently, peering out into the blackness -where the moonlight pierced it, as they -rode up to the shack.</p> - -<p>“We are all safe, father; we merely took a -wrong turning,” Jean called aloud as they drew -rein.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” observed Mr. Cameron with a stubborn<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span> -ring in his voice. “I was afraid that you -had.”</p> - -<p>Jean perceived her father’s frame of mind instantly, -and the Cameron in her rose to meet -the Cameron in him.</p> - -<p>“We have spent a very agreeable afternoon, -however,” she said in clear, determined tones; -“at least I have, so I can scarcely regret our -adventure, though I am sorry to have caused -you anxiety.”</p> - -<p>To Loring’s surprise, instead of slipping out -of her saddle as she had done before, she waited -for him to lift her down. As he did so, she felt -his lips brush her sleeve. It was done after the -fashion of a devotee, not of a lover, yet the -girl’s pulses bounded with a sense of elation and -power. She held a man’s soul in her hands. -Yes, she knew now with a sense of certainty -what she had only suspected before,—that -Loring loved her. How she felt herself, how -much response the man’s passion had power to -call out in her, she took no time to think; but -she resolved to use this new power for his good. -It should be the beginning of better things than -he had ever known. Oh, yes, love could do -anything. She had always heard that.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span></p> - -<p>That night Loring, too, would have sworn -that the turning point in his life had come, that -never again could he prove unworthy of the -trust in him which had shone from Jean Cameron’s -eyes and pulsed in the strong clasp of her -hand. A woman’s faith had saved other men -worse than he. Why could he not surely rely -upon its power to save him, too?</p> - -<p>One who knew him well might have answered: -“Because you are both too strong and too weak -to be saved by anything from without. Your -regeneration, if it comes, will come from no -such gentle approaches and soft appeals, but -through the stress and storm of deep experience, -through the struggle and agony of overwhelming -remorse. So it must be with some men.”</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI</h2> - -<p>From the time of their ride together, -Jean’s thoughts were much more occupied -with Loring than they had been -before. The consciousness of her father’s opposition -was an added stimulus, partly by reason -of her inherited obstinacy, and partly because -she felt that Loring was misunderstood, and all -her loyalty was engaged in his behalf. She felt -a pride in having discovered what she thought -were his possibilities, and she was determined -that the world should acknowledge them too. -In the face of Mr. Cameron’s disapproval she -did not venture to ask Loring to the house; but -whenever they met in the camp or on the road -she made a point of stopping to talk with him -and inquiring how things were going at the -hoist.</p> - -<p>It must be set down to Loring’s credit that -none of these meetings were of his planning, for -as his love for her deepened, as it did day by -day, he felt more and more keenly the barriers<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span> -which he himself had raised between them. He -felt how far wrong he had been in assuming that -his life had been wholly his own and that his -failures could touch no one but himself. He did -not dare to construct the future, but clung to the -present with realization of its blessings. He -felt a glow of pride in Jean’s friendship for him, -and a steady reliance on her faith in him. Week -after week went by and the fiber within him -strengthened. The belief in the worthwhileness -of life came to him with a splendid rush of conviction -that was not to be denied.</p> - -<p>The depth of happiness is, unfortunately, -however, no criterion of its duration. One -evening the stage, after depositing at the office -its load of mail and newcomers, lurched jerkily -up the incline that led to Mr. Cameron’s house, -instead of being driven to the corral as usual. -Loring watched it and his spirits dropped like a -barometer. An incident may easily depress high -spirits, though it takes an event to raise low -ones. The event which had raised his spirits -to-day was a meeting with Jean Cameron while -Mr. Cameron was inspecting Number Three -shaft. Jean had accompanied her father to the -hoist and Loring had been able to talk with her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span> -for a longer time than usual. The incident that -had depressed was merely a slight break in the -routine. He did not usually notice the stage. -Why should he do so now? What was more -natural than that Mr. Cameron should have -some visitor?</p> - -<p>“Probably one of the directors of the company, -or some official,” Stephen reflected. “Perhaps -that was why that new saddle was sent down to -the corral.”</p> - -<p>Loring shortened his day by dividing it into -periods. A period consisted of the time required -to raise ten buckets of ore. At the end of each -period he permitted himself to glance over his -shoulder, where just beyond the corner of the -ore cribs he could see the porch of Mr. Cameron’s -house. Now and then he was rewarded by a -glimpse of Jean reading or talking to her father. -Loring was very honest with himself and never -before the requisite amount of work was accomplished -did he give himself his reward. This -morning he had gone through the usual routine, -lowered the day’s shift and patiently waited to -hoist the first result of their labor. It had been -a severe strain on his subjective integrity, when, -after he had raised nine buckets of ore, the expected<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span> -tenth turned out to be merely a load of -dulled drills sent up to be sharpened. Exasperated, -he watched while the “nipper” boys -unloaded the drills and put in the newly sharpened -sets which they had brought from the -blacksmith’s. One little fellow either unduly -conscientious, or with a wholesome dread of the -wrath of the mine foreman, laboriously counted -the new drills from the short “starters” to the -six- and seven-foot drills that complete the set.</p> - -<p>“Oh, they’re all right, Ignacio,” called -Stephen. “Chuck them in! <i lang="es">’Sta ’ueno.</i>”</p> - -<p>The next time his hopes were fulfilled, and -bucket number ten appeared on the surface. -As soon as it was clear of the shaft and swung -onto the waiting ore car, Stephen turned for -his long-desired glance. Tied to the fence in -front of Mr. Cameron’s house was another -horse beside Jean’s pony, which he knew so -well. As he looked, the door opened and Jean -appeared. She was too far away for him to -distinguish her features and yet she seemed to -him to have an air of buoyancy which he had -not before remarked. A man stepped out of -the doorway behind her. His tan riding-boots -were brilliant with a gloss that is unknown in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span> -a world where men shine their own shoes. The -sunlight positively quivered upon them. Jean -and the stranger mounted, and as they rode -nearer to the hoist Stephen observed that the -man was singularly good-looking, but “too -sleek by half,” he growled vindictively, as he -turned to his work again.</p> - -<p>The stranger turned out to be a young cousin -of Mr. Cameron’s, ostensibly in camp to see -“western life”; but Stephen had his own -opinion as to that. In a week Loring disliked -the cousin, in a fortnight he loathed him, and -all without ever having exchanged a word with -the dapper youth. A man who by necessity -is compelled to wear a flannel shirt and trousers -frayed by tucking within high boots, is always -prone to consider a better dressed man as dapper. -For a week Stephen had not had a chance to -speak with Miss Cameron. The cousin, “Archibald -Iverach,” as the letters which Loring saw -at the post-office indicated to be his name, may -not have been intentionally responsible; but -to his shadow-like attendance on Jean, Loring -attributed the result and accordingly prayed -for his departure. “To be sure he is her guest; -but that is no reason why he should have too<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span> -good a time,” he reflected gloomily. “She -must be enjoying his visit or she would not -keep him so long.”</p> - -<p>Had Loring overheard a conversation which -took place at Mr. Cameron’s table the day -before Iverach’s return to the East, he would -have felt his affection for that gentleman still -more increased. The conversation had turned -upon the types of men in camp. Iverach’s -estimate of them had been as disparaging as -theirs of him. The only men with whom he had -come in contact had annoyed him as having no -place in his neatly constructed world. “Cheap -independence” was the phrase that he had -used to describe their manner. He had good -cause to know this independence for one day -he had addressed McKay in a rather lofty -fashion, and what McKay had said in return -could only be constructed from a careful and -diligent reading of the unexpurgated parts of -all the most lurid books in the world combined. -The retort had been worthy of a territory where -the championship swearing belt is held by one -who can swear between syllables. His remarks -had reflected on Iverach’s parentage on the male -and female sides, it had enlarged on his past,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span> -expatiated on his probable future, dilated upon -his present. The pleasantest of the places that -awaited him, according to McKay, was hotter -than Tombstone in August. His looks and -character had been described in a way that had -surpassed even McKay’s fertile imagination. -Iverach had always imagined that he would -fight a man for using such language to him; -yet for some reason he had not hastened to express -offense. He was not a coward; but he was -not adventurous nor easily aroused to anger -when it might have unpleasant results. Consequently -to-day, when he finished his remarks -about the men whom he had seen by observing -that they were “the scum of the earth,” he -was guilty of no conscious exaggeration.</p> - -<p>Mr. Cameron paid no attention to his cousin’s -remarks. He had rarely found them rewarding -and therefore with his usual Scotch economy -he declined to waste interest upon them. Jean, -however, for some reason took the trouble to -continue the discussion.</p> - -<p>“Have you met a man named Loring, one -of the hoist engineers?” she asked quietly.</p> - -<p>Iverach looked up suddenly. “Loring? What -is his first name?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Stephen.”</p> - -<p>“I have not met him here; but if he is the -man I think he is, I happen to have heard something -of him in the East. A friend of his asked -me to keep an eye out for him if I came to any -of the camps in Arizona. In fact, he told me to -keep two eyes open for him, one to find him with, -and the other to look out for him after I had -found him. He intimated that Loring was not -a reliable character, to say the least.”</p> - -<p>“A friend of his, did you say?”</p> - -<p>“I judged that he had been at one time, but -from the trend of his conversation his friendship -must have been a thing of the dim past. -Among other pleasant things about Loring he -told me that—”</p> - -<p>“Did he say anything about his ability as a -hoist engineer? That, I think, is the only -thing with which we are concerned here,” interrupted -Jean. “You know, Archie, there is -a proverb to the effect that ‘a man’s past is his -own.’”</p> - -<p>“Then all I can say is that Loring is not to -be envied his ownership,” Iverach went on, -ignoring the danger signal of Jean’s slightly -contemptuous manner. “And as for discussing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span> -his past, I cannot see any harm in repeating -what every one knows about a man.”</p> - -<p>Ordinarily Mr. Cameron was the most fair-minded -of men, and judged people by what he -knew of them, not by what he heard; but he -had a particular antipathy to Loring, caused -by dislike of his type, and also he was not sorry -to have Jean hear a few truths about the man -whose companionship he dreaded for her as -much as he resented her championship of him.</p> - -<p>“What was it you were going to say about -Loring?” he asked of Iverach, as he handed -him a cigar.</p> - -<p>Iverach paused to clip it carefully with a -gold cigar-cutter that hung from his watch-chain. -“Of course it is only hearsay that I am -repeating—” Archibald began hesitatingly.</p> - -<p>“Then why repeat it?” asked Jean ironically.</p> - -<p>“Oh, the most interesting things in the world -are those that you accept on hearsay,” he -laughed. “I forget the details of Loring’s -history, but this friend intimated that Loring, -when engaged to his guardian’s daughter, borrowed -large sums of money from the guardian, -and—well, neither the engagement nor the -money ever materialized and Stephen Loring<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span> -is not much sought after in that neighborhood. -I met the girl once,” he went on, “and I don’t -blame Loring. She was the kind of young -woman whose eyes light up only over causes; -but the money part of the story, if true, is rather -an ugly fact. Dexterity with other people’s -money is not an agreeable form of deftness.”</p> - -<p>“Utterly contemptible,” snapped Mr. Cameron, -flicking the ashes from his cigar onto the -table with a prodigal gesture, only to brush -them onto an envelope with the afterthought -of an exact nature.</p> - -<p>Jean rose and walked toward the door.</p> - -<p>“At what time do you ride this afternoon?” -her cousin called after her.</p> - -<p>“Thanks,” replied Jean, without turning, -“but I shall not be able to ride this afternoon, -I am intending to spend the time in making a -pair of curtains for this window. I do not like -the view of the hoist.”</p> - -<p>Iverach’s face fell, for he was leaving Quentin -the next day, and he had counted much upon -this last interview. “Can’t the curtains wait -until to-morrow?” he remonstrated.</p> - -<p>“No, they must be finished at once,” replied -Jean with decision.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Why this burst of domestic energy?” -queried Mr. Cameron. “You know that you -have not taken a needle in your hand since you -have been in the camp.”</p> - -<p>“I intend to change my habits in many ways,” -Jean responded, pressing her lips together -firmly.</p> - -<p>“I beg of you not to change at all,” said -Iverach. “It is impossible to improve a perfect -person. However, since you are in the -domestic mood, I wonder if you would take -pity on a helpless bachelor and take a stitch in -my riding-gloves for me?”</p> - -<p>“Riding-gloves are a luxury, while curtains -are a necessity,” replied Jean firmly. “However, -if you will give the gloves to me, I will see -that our Chinaman mends them. There is -nothing that he cannot do.”</p> - -<p>For some minutes after Jean had left the -room, her cousin contemplated the end of his -cigar. It was hard for him to twist her expressions -into denoting a mood favorable to his -complacency, so he spent an unpleasant half -hour. At last, giving up all hope of her reappearance, -he moodily set forth alone on his ride. -He realized that in the Western setting he did<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> -not appeal to Jean Cameron, and only hoped -that when she should return to the East, his -deficiencies would be less apparent, while his -advantages would show more clearly. He -therefore concluded to defer putting his fate -to the touch until circumstances should prove -more propitious.</p> - -<p>The curtains took some time in the making. -Jean sewed them with a preoccupied elaboration -such as she was not accustomed to bestow upon -such tasks. She had been startled by the effect -of her cousin’s words upon her, and now stared -at the hem of the curtains with a slight frown. -She had thought her interest in Stephen to be -purely abstract and impersonal, and yet it was -not pleasant to think of the person in whom -she was even abstractly interested as having -been concerned in a dubious financial transaction. -It certainly added interest to the problem -of his regeneration; but nevertheless it abated -the zeal for solving that problem, by making it -seem not worth while.</p> - -<p>Stephen rejoiced when the day came for -Iverach to leave Quentin. He hoped that now -his relations with Miss Cameron would be resumed. -He was amazed to see how much he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span> -had come to rely on his glimpses of her as the -inspiration of his existence. The first time -that he saw her, however, she passed him with -a cool nod in which it would have been hard -for any one to find encouragement or inspiration. -When this coolness was repeated on -several occasions he was puzzled. Then he -made up his mind that the underlying reason -was the cousin, and in this he was certainly -correct, though not in the way he supposed. -For the first time he began to realize that the -work at the hoist was monotonous.</p> - -<p>The Devil has three great allies, natural depravity, -aimless activity, and ennui, and this last -is his most trusted, subtle, and reliable agent, -especially when coupled with depression.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII</h2> - -<p>For three days it had been raining in -camp, and the roads were mired with -brownish red ’dobe mud. In the tents -the little stoves failed to dry the reeking air. -The ponies looked miserable, human beings -hopeless. Men tracked into the office, wet and -disgusted, their dirty “slickers” dripping little -pools of water wherever they stood. The rain -fell with a dull rattle on the galvanized iron -roofing, steady, relentless. Even the “shots” -from the workings sounded dull and dejected -in the heavy atmosphere. Every one was irritable -and in an unpleasant frame of mind.</p> - -<p>Rain in Arizona is rare; but when it does -come it is the coldest, wettest, slimiest rain in -the world. It rains from above, from below, -from the side. It dissolves rubber; it takes -the heat from fire. Water-tight buildings are -mere sport for it. It rains in big drops that -splash, in fine drizzle that penetrates, in sheets<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span> -that drench. The soft rock melts and becomes -mud. The dirt dissolves and becomes quicksand. -Empty gulches become torrents; small -streams become rivers. Even the “Gila monsters,” -those slimy, mottled, bottle-eyed, lizard-shaped -reptiles, give up in despair, while mere -man has no chance at all for happiness and -comfort.</p> - -<p>Stephen came back from his work at the -hoist, soaked to the skin, and sick. To add to -his discouragement he found orders to work -a double shift waiting for him in his tent—the -engineer of the eleven o’clock, or “graveyard,” -shift being incapacitated. He threw -himself down on his cot, cursing the squeak of -the rusty springs. His feet felt like moist lumps -of clay. The dampness of his shirt sent a numb -feeling through his stomach. Lynn, his tent-mate, -was on shift, so there was nothing to do -but stare at the one ornament of the tent, a -battered tin alarm clock, which, ticking with -exasperating monotony, hung from the ridge-pole -of the tent. The sole reading matter at -hand was an old copy of the Denver <cite>Post</cite>. -Stephen knew this almost by heart; but he -picked it up and began to reread it.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Be a Booster! Get the convention for your -city! Don’t go to sleep!”</p> - -<p>The words, in flaming red and black headlines, -irritated him. Throwing the paper aside, -he amused himself by drawing his fingernail -along the wet canvas of the tent, and watching -the water ooze through the weave. Occasionally -from outside he could hear the cursing of the -coke wagon drivers, and the merciless crack of -their whips. In his mind he could see almost -as well as if he had been outside, the six quivering, -straining horses, their haunches worn raw -by the traces, the creaking wagon, up to its -hubs in mud, and the slipping of the rusty brake -shoes.</p> - -<p>As he lay there in quiet misery, with renewed -strength the utter hopelessness of his life came -to him. It was not so much the thought of the -present that crushed, but the knowledge that -for years a life like this was all that lay before -him. The ride of three odd months ago with -Jean Cameron had awakened him to visions -of things that lay beyond him.</p> - -<p>He shivered with cold, and pulled the dirty -red blanket up over him. Uncalled for, the -thought of the saloon up on the hill came into<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span> -his mind. He imagined himself leaning against -a bar, the edge fitting comfortably into his side, -drinking warm drinks, and feeling that life was -worth while. He tried to drive the thought -away. It was useless.</p> - -<p>Jean Cameron for months now had been his -idol, had seemed to him to represent his better -self. With an effort he brought her face before -him. The vision was all blurred. Her eyes -seemed to look away from him. She seemed -intangible, unreal, compared with the comfort -which he knew that drink would bring.</p> - -<p>“What is the use, anyhow?” he murmured -to himself.</p> - -<p>He turned irresolutely upon his cot, then he -jumped up and out onto the floor.</p> - -<p>“Oh, damn it, I will!” he exclaimed.</p> - -<p>He jammed his hat down over his eyes, -struggled into his drenched “slicker,” and -started out into the muddy road. As he waded -down to the corral, his boots squashed in sodden -resentment.</p> - -<p>Loring for a moment wavered irresolute -while he was saddling his pony.</p> - -<p>“I won’t,” he muttered.</p> - -<p>But even as he said it, he gave the last<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span> -turn to the cinch knot, and swung into the -saddle.</p> - -<p>Moodily he rode up the trail. It rained -harder than ever. The pony slipped, slid, and -scrambled. Stephen sat in the saddle, stiff as -an image. His face was drawn with lines that -were not pleasant to look upon. The corners -of his mouth were drawn hard down, telling of -tightly clenched teeth.</p> - -<p>When he reached the saloon he dismounted, -hastily tied his horse to a bush, and went in. -In one corner of the shack a stove was burning -warmly. The pine boards of the flooring were -smooth and white.</p> - -<p>The bar, which was made of packing boxes -covered with oiled cloth, ran the whole length of -the room on the right-hand side from the door. -At the left-hand side were a couple of small -green baize-covered tables. By these were -seated several Mexicans, all more or less drunk. -They were singing noisily. Along the wall -behind the bar ran a shelf which supported -a large array of bottles. Behind these, in -imitation of the cheap gaudiness of a city -saloon, was a long, cracked mirror. Two Colt -revolvers lying grimly on the shelf gave a delicate<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span> -hint to guests to behave themselves, and -to pay their bills.</p> - -<p>The Mexicans looked in a stupid, vacant -way at Loring, then went on with their singing. -The barkeeper was leaning against the wall, -biting the end from a cigar, and at the same -time whistling. This accomplishment was -made possible by the fact that two front teeth -were missing. It was rumored that in addition -to smoking and whistling, he could curse and -expectorate, all at the same time.</p> - -<p>The possessor of these remarkable accomplishments -greeted Stephen in a friendly fashion. -They had often before met in the camp, when -Hankins came down from the saloon for -supplies.</p> - -<p>“Well, now, Mr. Loring, I’m glad to see -you. Mean weather out, ain’t it? First time -you’ve been up to our diggings, I guess,” he -said, while he gripped Stephen’s hand with a -crushing grasp.</p> - -<p>“Yes, this is the first time I have had a chance -to drop in,” rejoined Loring.</p> - -<p>Some one rode up to the door, and with -heavy tread, and jangling of spurs, came stamping -into the saloon.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span></p> - -<p>“How are you stacking up, Jackie?” asked -Hankins of the newcomer. “Say, Mr. Loring, -I want you to know my partner; Mr. Jackson, -shake hands with Mr. Loring.” The introduction -accomplished, he stepped back behind the -bar.</p> - -<p>“What are you goin’ to have to drink, gents? -This one is on the house.”</p> - -<p>“Thanks! Whisky for me, please,” answered -Loring.</p> - -<p>“Whisky? All right. I have some pretty good -stuff here. No more kick to it than from a little -lamb. Have some too, Jackie? I thought so.”</p> - -<p>Hankins poured the golden fluid into three -gray-looking glasses.</p> - -<p>“Regards, gents!” he said in a businesslike -tone of voice, raising his glass as he spoke.</p> - -<p>“Regards,” echoed Loring, emptying his -glass at a gulp.</p> - -<p>The whisky sent a warm glow through his -frame.</p> - -<p>“That was good,” he said, in a judicial tone -of voice. “Now won’t you gentlemen take -something with me?”</p> - -<p>“Well, I don’t care if I do,” answered Hankins.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span></p> - -<p>The same formula, “Regards,” was repeated.</p> - -<p>Loring leaned in comfort against the bar. The -attitude, unfortunately, was not strange to him. -Time and time again, on Stephen’s invitation, -the glasses were refilled, while every now and -then Hankins insisted, “One on the house.” -After the first two drinks, however, the latter -and his partner drank only beer, while Loring -continued to drink straight whisky. The other -men had one by one departed, so that Loring -and his companions were left alone.</p> - -<p>Stephen’s face began to burn. He caught a -glimpse of himself in the mirror that hung behind -the bar. Somehow the dull-eyed, white -face which looked back at him seemed to have -no connection with the radiant creature that he -felt himself to be.</p> - -<p>At this juncture Jackson made a suggestion.</p> - -<p>“What do you say to a little game, gents?”</p> - -<p>“By—all—means,” exclaimed Loring, emphasizing -each word as if it were the last of the -sentence.</p> - -<p>Hankins, stooping behind the bar, brought -up a pack of cards.</p> - -<p>“Here’s an unopened deck,” he said. With -queer little side look at his partner, he went<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span> -on. “I’ll get even with you for our last game, -Jackie.”</p> - -<p>Stephen, with footsteps that came down very -hard, walked over to one of the tables. Then he -stopped.</p> - -<p>“I—haven’t—got—much—money—here,” -he said. He enunciated with the heavy, -precise diction of a man who knows, but will -not believe that he is drunk.</p> - -<p>“That’s all right,” said Jackson. “Your -I. O. U. goes with us. We ain’t like a boardin’-house -keeper I used to know in Los Angeles, -who had a sign hung out over his place: ‘We -only trust God.’”</p> - -<p>Stephen and Jackson sat down at the table, -and the latter began to shuffle the cards vigorously.</p> - -<p>“Another whisky, please,” called Stephen to -Hankins. He spoke as if a “whisky please” -were a special sort of drink.</p> - -<p>“A beer for me too,” called Jackson. Hankins -brought the drinks on a little tin tray. Before -taking each glass from it, he mechanically -clicked the bottom against the edge of the -tray.</p> - -<p>Stephen fumbled in his pocket for change.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Don’t pay now,” drawled Jackson. “Drinks -is on the game. Winner shells up for the -pleasure he has had.”</p> - -<p>Hankins joined them at the table, remarking -as he sat down: “What’s the chips wuth?” -He nodded assent to Stephen’s rather indistinct -answer.</p> - -<p>“Freeze-out? Play till some one goes broke? -Let her drive, Jackie!”</p> - -<p>Jackson dealt with rapid precision, emphasizing -each round by banging his own card -down hard on the table. All looked at their -hands, while the dealer drawled softly: “Kyards, -gents? Kyards—three for you, Mr. Loring?”</p> - -<p>For three hours they played. Every little -while Hankins rose, and brought more drinks.</p> - -<p>“On the game, gents, on the game!” he exclaimed -each time.</p> - -<p>Sometimes one was ahead, sometimes another, -but no one had any decided advantage. -Stephen played mechanically. The voices of the -other men seemed to him far away, and indistinct.</p> - -<p>Then the luck changed, and Loring began to -win steadily. His success drew him on. He -played recklessly, but by some sport of fate continued<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span> -to win. He had a stiff smile upon his -lips, and was evidently playing blindly.</p> - -<p>“Say, Hankie, I guess we are being bitten,” -remarked Jackson dryly.</p> - -<p>“It sure looks that way. Mr. Loring here is a -great player. We didn’t know what we were -up against, did we?”</p> - -<p>In his maudlin condition these words delighted -Stephen. With only a pair of threes in his hand -he pulled in a stack of chips, on which the -others had dropped out.</p> - -<p>Hankins was shuffling, preparatory to his deal. -As he twisted the cards in his fingers, he gave a -vivid, if immoral, account of his last trip to Tucson. -Loring’s head was swimming, but he -caught the words: “She was the stuff all right, -all right.”</p> - -<p>Suddenly Jackson jumped to his feet, and -stood as if listening intently.</p> - -<p>“I guess your <i lang="es">caballo</i> must be loose, Mr. Loring; -seems to me I hear him sort of stamping -round outside. Did you hitch him tight?”</p> - -<p>Loring staggered to the door and looked out. -From the blackness came a gust of wind and -rain that cooled his flushed forehead.</p> - -<p>“I think he’s all right. Can’t see anything<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span> -at all. Must have been wind you heard. Big, -big wind outside.”</p> - -<p>During his absence from the table, Hankins -had dealt. Stephen picked up his cards. At -first he could not distinguish them. They seemed -to be all a blur of color. Then it slowly dawned -upon him that he held four kings and a jack. -His head reeled with excitement.</p> - -<p>“Any objection to raising limit?” he asked -eagerly, with an unconcealed look of triumph -upon his face.</p> - -<p>“Wa-al, of course, if you want to, we’ll come -along, just to make the game interesting,” -drawled Jackson; “I guess you have us stung -all right. Only one card for you? Gawd, you -must have a fat hand!”</p> - -<p>Loring kept raising and raising, until he -reached the limit of all that he owned in the -world. Then, for drunk or sober, he was no -man to bet what he did not have, he called. -Throwing his cards face upwards upon the -table, he reached unsteadily for the huge pile -of chips.</p> - -<p>“F-Four kings!” he shouted exultantly. “I—think—they -are good.”</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 440px;" id="illus3"> -<img src="images/illus3.jpg" width="440" height="650" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">“‘It seems like as if you was bitten, Mr. Loring,’ said -Hankins.” <a href="#Page_125"><i>Page 125</i></a></p> -</div> - -<p>Jackson looked at Stephen’s half-shut eyes,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span> -at the heavy way his elbow rested on the table, -and smiled. Then with a broad wink at Hankins, -he exclaimed.</p> - -<p>“Well, I’ll be damned. Ain’t this the luck! -Here’s four aces! By Gawd!”</p> - -<p>“It seems like as if you was bitten, Mr. Loring,” -said Hankins. “Great game that was. -Well, gents, have another drink now on the -house.”</p> - -<p>Stephen, in a dazed manner, took his drink, -then dimly there came into his mind his orders -to work night shift.</p> - -<p>“What—whatsh the time?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“It’s close to ten,” answered Jackson.</p> - -<p>The faint idea kept crawling in Loring’s -mind: “Night shift, hoist, must go.” He -plunged out into the darkness, and tried to drag -himself into the saddle.</p> - -<p>When he had gone the two other men roared -with laughter.</p> - -<p>“That was easy,” exclaimed Jackson, “but -I guess we had better look after him a bit now, -or he will be in trouble.” They went out after -Stephen, and found him still trying to climb into -the saddle. Each time that he tried, he almost -succeeded, then he swayed, and fell back onto<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span> -the muddy ground. The pony, under these unusual -proceedings, was growing restive. They -lifted Stephen onto the horse. He lurched, and -almost fell off on the other side.</p> - -<p>“Easy now. You’re all right,” said Jackson.</p> - -<p>Taking the pony by the bridle he led him into -the saloon. With Loring swaying in the saddle, -the horse walked listlessly up to the bar, while -Hankins playfully pulled his tail.</p> - -<p>“Great pony, that, Mr. Loring; he knows a -good place, all right. He’ll take you down -the trail fine as can be. He’s a wise one, -for sure.”</p> - -<p>They led the pony to the door again, the hoofs -creaking strangely on the wooden floor.</p> - -<p>“Look out for your head, Mr. Loring! -That’s good. <i lang="es">Á Dios</i>—good night!”</p> - -<p>From the trail Loring’s voice carried back. -He was singing at the top of his lungs.</p> - -<p>“Full right up to his ears!” ejaculated Hankins. -“I hope he don’t fall off and break his -neck.”</p> - -<p>Meanwhile the faithful little horse trudged -steadily down the trail, carrying his helpless -master. There are few Arizona horses which do -not understand the symptoms indicated by a limp<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span> -weight in the saddle, and meaningless tugs on the -bridle.</p> - -<p>The camp, save for the flare by the smelter, -was unlit. The pony went straight to the corral, -past all the dark, silent tents and shacks. The -sound of the hoof-beats echoed very clearly in -the stillness. At the corral Loring tried to dismount, -and fell from the saddle hard. The -shock roused his consciousness.</p> - -<p>“Must be near ’leven. What, what wash I -going—going to do at ’leven? Oh, yes. Hoist, -extra shift.” Leaving the poor pony standing -still saddled in the rain, he started up the hill for -the hoist.</p> - -<p>Reaching the steps of the deserted <i lang="es">tienda</i>, -he sat down and supported his head with his -hands.</p> - -<p>“I <em>guess</em> I must be—a bit—tight,” he -thought.</p> - -<p>The world began to whirl, to drop suddenly, -to rise, to twist. He bit his lips and pressed his -knuckles hard against his temples.</p> - -<p>“Must sober up!” he kept repeating to himself.</p> - -<p>Sweat broke out all over him. He became -ghastly ill. Lying at full length in the muddy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span> -road, before the steps, he did not notice the rain -that beat down upon him. Gradually he began -to lose consciousness.</p> - -<p>The whistle blew dull and discordant for the -eleven o’clock shift.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII</h2> - -<p>As the echo of the whistle died away, Loring -raised himself, and staggered to his -feet. Not realizing what he did, he -groped his way onward up the hill. As he passed -the men hurrying home from the last shift, he -noticed, as in a dream, the way in which the wet -clothes clung to their skins, the heavy folds accentuated -by the glare of the occasional electric -light.</p> - -<p>Hughson, in the hoist shed, was cursing volubly -at his delay in coming. As soon as he saw -Loring he grabbed his coat, and calling out a -hurried imprecation, started down the hill.</p> - -<p>Stephen had scarcely stepped to his place by -the drum, when the indicator clanged sharply -one bell. Mechanically he threw his weight -against the lever, and shot the first bucket of ore -mined by the shift high into the dim light, almost -into the tripod framework upon which the -cable hung.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span></p> - -<p>Uncomprehendingly, he watched the figures -outside bang down the iron coverings over the -shaft, and wheel the clanking ore car onto the -tracks beneath the suspended bucket. The men -seemed to Loring to be possessed of magical -deftness as they unshackled the full bucket, -and clamped the swinging hook through the bar -of the empty one. The loaded ore car bumped -groaningly off on its journey down to the cribs, -the iron coverings opened, and a voice called: -“Lower!”</p> - -<p>At times Stephen’s head cleared somewhat, -and he noticed every detail in the hoist shed. -He stared at the way the shadows from the one -electric light fell on the rough boards. The water -jug in the corner, the disordered tool box, the -little pile of oily waste by the boiler, all photographed -themselves on his eye. He noticed the -great pile of beams in the back of the shed, -the timbering for the new shaft, lettered with -huge blue stencils, and watched with interest -the flare in the furnace when the Mexican stoker -threw fresh armfuls of mesquite wood upon the -fire.</p> - -<p>Then again all was whirl, and he was obliged -to grip his stool to keep from falling. His hand<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span> -clung to the control lever with damp, clinging -pressure.</p> - -<p>Every few minutes the gong would sound, -telling that another load of ore was waiting to be -raised. Once he ran the “skip” so high above -the shaft, that it crashed into the framework. -It seemed to be some one entirely disconnected -with himself who fumbled with the winch, and -lowered the bucket again, until the shrill: -“O. K.! <i lang="es">’Sta ’ueno!</i>” from the darkness outside -told of the proper level. Between the striking -of the bells, Stephen puzzled over the meaning -of the white painted bands on the cable, which -should have told him at what level the bucket -was.</p> - -<p>The time seemed to drag endlessly. Still the -buckets continued to come. Just outside the -door of the shed he could see the peg board that -indicated the tally of buckets raised. He swore -at it bitterly. “Why can’t the checker put in -two pegs at a time, until the board is full, and -the shift finished?” he thought.</p> - -<p>Whenever the winch was in motion, the grating -roar of the cable winding in or out seemed -to be inside his own head. Steadily he became -more and more bewildered. His will was rapidly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span> -losing the desperate fight for control. Once he -fell off his stool.</p> - -<p>There was a slight delay in the work. The -next bucket was slow in being signaled.</p> - -<p>“What lazy men—what lazy men!” he -murmured.</p> - -<p>Then clear and sharp rang the signal: “Clang—Clang—Clang——Clang!” -Loring was too dazed -to remember that three bells before the one to -hoist was the signal for “man on the bucket.” -The one bell telling to raise, or two to lower, had -conveyed their meaning automatically to him. -The sudden change was incomprehensible.</p> - -<p>“Clang—Clang—Clang——Clang!” again -the indicator rang. This time with a sharp, insistent -sound.</p> - -<p>“Perhaps they want it to come up fast. Oh, -very, very fast,” was the thought that came to -him, and he threw the lever all the way over. -Fascinated, he watched the cable tearing past -him on the drum.</p> - -<p>“Funny—they—should—signal—that—way,” -he spoke aloud. “Perhaps—they—are—drunk—too.”</p> - -<p>Faster and faster whirled the reel. The mark -for the four hundred level flashed by. Almost<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span> -in an instant the marking for the three hundred -followed. The blur of white upon the cable, -telling that the bucket was only two hundred feet -below the surface seemed to come within a -second. He did not see the marking for the last -hundred feet.</p> - -<p>Suddenly, out of the bowels of the earth shot -the bucket. For a sixtieth of a second two -figures, standing on the edge, were outlined. -Loring heard a shriek, half drowned in a crash -and roar, as the bucket, with its human freight, -was hurled against the overhead supports.</p> - -<p>He smiled foolishly, and hopelessly fingered -the lever.</p> - -<p>Outside, by the shaft mouth, all was in wild -confusion. Shouts, curses, hoarse whispers, all -were intermingled. Then came the sound of -feet, tramping in unison, and men entered the -shed carrying a—thing—its head driven into -its shoulders. Loring looked—stared—then -he knew.</p> - -<p>Like a knife cutting into the mist of dizziness -came realization. The truth burned its way -into his mind, and sobered him.</p> - -<p>“My God!” he sobbed. “The signal was -for men on the bucket.” It flashed upon him<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span> -what had happened. The men, standing upon -the edge of the bucket, holding onto the cable, -had been dashed into the tripod framework, -which overhung the shaft mouth, a scant ten -feet above the ground.</p> - -<p>Shaking, as with ague, he stepped outside -to the shaft.</p> - -<p>A crowd of Mexicans were jabbering. The -voices of several Americans carried above the -soft slur of the Spanish. Some one was holding -lantern over the mouth of the shaft, and -cautiously peering down. Up the hill came -the sound of running feet.</p> - -<p>“Here’s the Doc, now!” called some one.</p> - -<p>They showed Dr. Kline the body on the floor -of the hoist box. He merely glanced at it, then -picking up a burlap sack laid it over the head.</p> - -<p>“Where is the other man?” he asked curtly.</p> - -<p>Some one, with a quick gesture, pointed -towards the shaft. “Down there.”</p> - -<p>A small, close set ladder, for use in case of -emergency, ran down the shaft. Down this -two of the Americans started to climb. The -group by the edge watched breathlessly, while -the light of their lantern dropped—dropped—dropped.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span></p> - -<p>For the first twenty feet the lantern illuminated -the greasy sides of the shaft, bringing -out clearly the knots and chinks in the boards. -Then the light shrank into the darkness, became -a mere dot. After a long minute the dot -began to sway back and forth. But so far down -was it that it seemed to have a radius only of -inches.</p> - -<p>“They have found him,” breathed McKay, -who had reached the scene. On the iron piping -of the shaft pump tapped dully the signal to -lower slowly. Loring started for his place at the -engine.</p> - -<p>“Get to hell out of here! You’ve done -enough harm for one night.”</p> - -<p>Hughson, with his white night-shirt half out -of his trousers, his boots unlaced, and his eyes -still heavy from sleep, shoved him aside and -took hold of the lever. Slowly he lowered the -“skip.” It seemed to Loring an hour before -it reached the bottom.</p> - -<p>Then again on the pipe, for the bellrope -was broken, was rapped the signal. -“One—one—one——one.” In the night air -the clank of the taps on the metal sounded -ghostly.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span></p> - -<p>Slowly the bucket came to the surface. The -two men who had descended were holding in it -a swaying figure. Many hands lifted the figure -gently to the ground. The doctor bent over it, -then shook his head.</p> - -<p>“Nothing doing,” he said dryly, and they -laid the body beside the other.</p> - -<p>A commanding voice echoed through the -group. It was Mr. Cameron’s.</p> - -<p>“Where is Loring?” he asked decisively.</p> - -<p>Stephen, in the background, turned away, -and, with a face like chalk etched with -acid, stumbled down the hill. Complete -agony possessed him. Hitherto, when he had -failed, he had hurt himself alone. Now he -was little better than a murderer. Drunk on -duty, when men’s lives were dependent upon -him!</p> - -<p>By some blind instinct he found his way -to his tent, pulled back the flap, and entered. -Lynn was snoring quietly in his corner. His -boots lay on the floor, strange shapes in the dark. -The alarm clock standing on the table close by -his head ticked softly and monotonously.</p> - -<p>Loring gasped for breath, swayed, and fell -unconscious upon his cot.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span></p> - -<p>The bodies of the two miners had been carried -to the hospital, and with Hughson in charge -of the hoist, the ore buckets were again coming -up, when Mr. Cameron and McKay left the -scene of the accident and through the darkness -groped their way down the hill.</p> - -<p>“Some one told me that he’d seen Loring -drinking this evening,” said McKay.</p> - -<p>“That explains all,” answered Mr. Cameron -gruffly. “I should have known! I should have -known! After the experience with men that I -have had, to put a man like Loring in a position -of responsibility! I am the one who is to blame -for this. And yet he did seem to have pulled -himself together. This will finish him, though. -Mark me, McKay, before this he has been going -to hell with the brakes on. Now he will run -wild. Two men dead! That is a rather heavy -reckoning for Mr. Stephen Loring to settle -with himself. If I did not owe so much to -him, I would have him in prison for to-night’s -work.”</p> - -<p>McKay nodded solemnly.</p> - -<p>“I liked him a lot. I thought that he had -different stuff in him. As you say, this will -probably finish his chances; but it may,” he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span> -hesitated, “it may make a man out of him. If -this don’t, God himself can’t help him.”</p> - -<p>“What were the names of the men?” asked -Mr. Cameron.</p> - -<p>“Marques was one. He used to work for me. -The other was a new man, Duran, or Doran, -some one said was his name.”</p> - -<p>“Were they married?” queried Mr. Cameron.</p> - -<p>“No.”</p> - -<p>“That is a blessing. Well, good night, -McKay. I shall see Loring in the morning.”</p> - -<p>“Good night,” answered McKay, and he -added under his breath: “I think I’d rather -not be Loring in the morning. Too bad! Too -bad!”</p> - -<p>There was a light in Mr. Cameron’s house. -As her father tramped up the steps Jean threw -open the door and came towards him. Her hair -fell in waves over her dressing-gown. The -candle in her hand threw its light into eyes -which asked an anxious question from beneath -their arching brows.</p> - -<p>“Father, what is the matter?” Jean exclaimed, -as Mr. Cameron advanced.</p> - -<p>“There has been an accident at Number -Three hoist,” answered Mr. Cameron.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span></p> - -<p>Jean drew a quick sharp breath. “Is Mr. -Loring hurt?” she asked, bending forward to -look into her father’s face.</p> - -<p>Mr. Cameron looked at her hard. Then a -grim humor glinted in his eyes as he answered: -“Loring hurt? Well—not—exactly.”</p> - -<p>Without a word Jean turned and led the way -into the living-room, where the hastily lighted -lamp flared high, leaving a smooch of smut on -the chimney and casting bright reflections on -the rough planks of the board wall. The girl -walked calmly to the table and lowered the wick -of the lamp. Then she tossed back the masses -of her hair, and turning sharply to her father -she uttered one word: “Well?”</p> - -<p>“Well!” echoed Mr. Cameron, throwing -himself into a chair by the fireplace. “Well! -I should say that was a curious word to describe -to-night’s doings.”</p> - -<p>“What do you mean?”</p> - -<p>“Mean? I mean that your Mr. Loring is a -damned scoundrel.”</p> - -<p>“I do not believe it. You speak too harshly. -You are angry.”</p> - -<p>“Hum! Perhaps.”</p> - -<p>Jean stood with downcast eyes. Suddenly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span> -she raised them like a condemned man about -to receive his sentence.</p> - -<p>“What has he done?”</p> - -<p>“He has murdered two Mexicans.”</p> - -<p>Jean shivered and drew the folds of her -dressing gown closer about her. “Mr. Loring -murderer! Impossible!”</p> - -<p>“Nothing is impossible to a man when he is -drunk.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, he was drunk, was he? At the shaft, -suppose.”</p> - -<p>The note of relief in Jean’s tone seemed -to add the last touch to Mr. Cameron’s exasperation.</p> - -<p>“Do you think it was any excuse that Loring -was drunk on duty with men’s lives in his -hands? You women have a queer code.”</p> - -<p>“No,” observed Jean, “it is not an excuse. -It is an explanation. That I can understand. -The other I could not.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, and I can understand it, too. It -means that I was a fool for trusting him. I -should never have done it, never!”</p> - -<p>Jean Cameron stole around to the back of -her father’s chair and leaned over till her face -almost touched his. “Remember,” she said<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span> -in a low tone, “if he has lost two lives, he saved -one.”</p> - -<p>“Damn me! Am I likely to forget it?” -Mr. Cameron answered, shaking off his daughter’s -hands which had been laid lightly on his -shoulders. “Why else did I take him on as -hoist engineer? It was paying a debt, so I -thought. But I had no right to pay at other -men’s risk; and after all I had done for him he -could not have the decency to keep sober on -duty—well, it is too late to think of that now.”</p> - -<p>Jean turned away and twisted the curling -ends of her hair slowly about her finger ends. -“Tell me just what happened,” she said -unsteadily.</p> - -<p>“It is a short story,” her father answered -gruffly. “Two men in the cage at the bottom -of the mine signaled to raise—engineer, drunk, -sets lever at top speed. If you cannot imagine -what happened, you may take a lantern and go -over yonder to see.”</p> - -<p>Jean sank shuddering on the window-seat -and buried her head in the cushions. Her -silence calmed her father’s wrath as her speech -had stirred it. “There, there!” Mr. Cameron -said soothingly, as he walked across to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span> -window and stroked the bowed head. “It is -nothing for you to be so downhearted about, -my lass. You had nothing to do with it.”</p> - -<p>Still the girl lay motionless.</p> - -<p>“Come, come, Jean! It is all over now for -those poor fellows, and as for Loring, you will -never see him again.”</p> - -<p>The figure on the window-seat stirred slightly, -and from the pillows a muffled voice asked -tremulously, “What will be done to him?”</p> - -<p>“That depends,” answered Mr. Cameron, -“on whether the Mexicans decide on a demonstration -between now and to-morrow morning.”</p> - -<p>“Oh!” cried Jean, suddenly sitting up and -wheeling about with pale cheeks and flashing -eyes, “they dare not. You would never allow -it. Why are there no men guarding him? It -is as bad as murder.”</p> - -<p>“Not quite,” her father replied slowly. “Besides, -if the Mexicans were drunk, you could -not hold them responsible. That would be—what -is it?—‘Not an excuse, but an explanation.’ -However, Loring is safe enough for -to-night, and I promise you he will be far away -by to-morrow.”</p> - -<p>With these words Mr. Cameron thrust his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span> -hands into his pockets, and rising, strode up -and down the room, the boards creaking under -his slow tread. His daughter leaned against -the window, staring out into the night.</p> - -<p>“Oh!” she whispered, as if to some presence -palpable though invisible, “how could you? -How could you do it after what you promised -me?” Then she turned her head and caught -sight of her father’s resolute back.</p> - -<p>“He is rather a lovable person,” she said, -with a little catch in her voice. “Don’t you -think he will feel badly enough without much -being said to him about—about the accident?” -Her father laughed a short, uncompromising -laugh.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX</h2> - -<p>The next morning Stephen awoke with -a start, conscious that some one was -standing beside his cot, as he lay fully -dressed outside the blankets. Mr. Cameron -was looking down upon him. When he struggled -to his feet, Loring’s mind was all confused. -He ran his hand through his matted hair.</p> - -<p>“Where am I?” he murmured.</p> - -<p>Mr. Cameron’s face was set decisively. It -was easy to see from which parent Jean had -inherited the modeling of the lower portion -of her face.</p> - -<p>“Come outside, Loring!” There was a chill -incisiveness in the words which shocked Stephen -into recollection. He followed Mr. Cameron -out of the tent.</p> - -<p>The bright, early morning sunlight made -his hot eyeballs water, and he blinked uncomfortably. -His knees shook from weakness so -that he leaned against the fence beside his tent. -Such absolute misery possessed him that he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span> -could not think. His brain was numb. His -mouth felt as if all the moisture had been baked -out of it.</p> - -<p>Mr. Cameron looked him over carefully and -contemptuously, then fumbled in his waistcoat -pocket, and produced a cigar. Eyeing Loring -all the while, he slowly bit off the end, and -lighted the cigar. Before he spoke, he took -several deliberate puffs. It was a good cigar; -but the rich smell of the fumes made Loring -turn a shade whiter.</p> - -<p>“Well, Loring, I suppose you know what -this means for you?” began Mr. Cameron -slowly. “A rather nice piece of work of yours, -on the whole. Two men killed by your efficiency! -I do not suppose that there is any use -in asking you if you were drunk?” There was -very little of the question in Mr. Cameron’s -voice.</p> - -<p>Stephen gripped the fence hard, then shook -his head.</p> - -<p>“I do not like to dismiss you, Loring, for I -am in your debt for saving my daughter’s life.” -Judging from his expression as he said this, -the thought of the debt did not greatly please -Mr. Cameron.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span></p> - -<p>Stephen looked out over the mountains. His -eyes were glistening with moisture—and this -time it was not caused by the glare. It cut him -to the quick that the man who was so righteously -dismissing him should be the father of -the girl whom he loved. In a bitter moment -there flashed before his mind the vision of all -his broken resolutions, of his now useless plans -for success. The whole fabric, which in the -past months he had woven for himself, he suddenly -saw torn to shreds.</p> - -<p>Mr. Cameron’s next words were lost to -Stephen. It was some seconds before he could -again focus his attention. When he caught up -the thread, Mr. Cameron was saying: “I had -hoped better things from you, Loring. I should -have known better, that when a man is a drifter, -such as you are, there is no hope. Still I had -hoped! Well, I was wrong. Here is your pay -check, for what is due to you. That is all.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Cameron turned and walked towards -the office. Stephen stood looking dumbly after -him, with the check fluttering loosely in his -fingers. McKay, going by on his way to work, -saw him, and came up to him. He held out his -hand in sympathy.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Damn it, Steve, I’m sorry for you! You -ain’t worth a damn; but I like you.”</p> - -<p>Stephen looked at him in silence. His only -conscious thought, as he gripped McKay’s -hand, was the mental reiteration: “I am worth -a damn, I am worth a damn.”</p> - -<p>McKay went on in friendly solicitude: “Of -course, it ain’t none of my business, Steve, but -if I was you I’d beat it pretty quick. Just -at present the friends of those men ain’t -losing any love on you. I think if I was -in your boots the Dominion trail would look -pretty good to me. It’s about up to you to -<i lang="es">vamos</i>.”</p> - -<p>“I will go,” said Loring. “It isn’t that I -fear what these Mexicans may do, because I -don’t care. But I can’t stand it here. Good-bye, -Mac! You have been a good friend to me. I -know I deserved to be fired. Deserved a lot -worse; but Mac,” he added desperately, “I -will make good somewhere!”</p> - -<p>McKay almost imperceptibly shook his head, -then smiled and again extended his hand.</p> - -<p>“Well, anyhow, buck up, Steve! I’ve got -to get down to work now. Good-bye, and good -luck!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Wait just a minute!” Loring called after -him.</p> - -<p>McKay turned, and Stephen held out his -newly received pay check.</p> - -<p>“Will you be kind enough to give this to -Hankins up at the saloon, when you get time? -I owe it to him, and to his partner.”</p> - -<p>“You certainly did do things up in great -shape last night, Steve,” said McKay, as he took -the check, after Stephen had endorsed it with -a shaking hand. “Got cheated, I suppose?”</p> - -<p>“Rather,” answered Loring.</p> - -<p>“It is strange,” thought McKay to himself, -as he walked away, “with fellows like these -saloon keepers. You could give them everything -that you have, and no matter what happened -they would keep it safely for you. But -play cards and they’ll stick it into you for -keeps.”</p> - -<p>Re-entering his tent, Stephen began to put -his few belongings into a saddle-bag. His -packing was not a long operation. He looked -rather wistfully about the little tent, which -had grown to seem to him almost a home. -Then, slinging the bag over his shoulder, he -started for the corral.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span></p> - -<p>It was still very early, and few people were -about. One or two of the Mexican teamsters -were at the corral, sleepily kicking their horses -into the traces. These looked at Stephen blackly, -for in a mining camp news travels very fast.</p> - -<p>Stephen’s hands shook so that he had great -difficulty in forcing the bit into the restive jaws -of his pony. At last, however, “<i lang="es">Muy Bueno</i>” -was saddled, and led out into the road. As Loring -was putting up the corral bars again, a bare-footed -little Mexican girl came pattering past. -Stephen had often befriended her in small ways, -so now she greeted him with shy warmth.</p> - -<p>“<i lang="es">Buenos dies, amigo!</i>” she chattered.</p> - -<p>The little child’s greeting started the tears to -his eyes. Fumbling in his pocket, from among -his few coins, he brought out a quarter. With a -dismal attempt at a smile, he tossed it to her.</p> - -<p>“Eh, Señorita Rosa, here is two bits for you, -<i lang="es">dos reales</i>, buy candy with big pink stripes.”</p> - -<p>The child ran up to him and gratefully seized -his hand with both of her grimy little paws. He -cut short her repeated thanks with a quick -“<i lang="es">No hay de que</i>,” and swung into the saddle.</p> - -<p>“<i lang="es">Á Dios</i>,” he called to her. Then slowly he -rode to the watering-trough. “<i lang="es">Muy Bueno</i>”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span> -buried his nose deep in the cool water, and drank -with great gulps. Stephen could feel the barrel -of the pony swell beneath the cinch. When he -could hold no more, “<i lang="es">Muy Bueno</i>” raised his -head from the trough questioningly, the drops of -water about the gray muzzle glistening in the sun. -Stephen pressed the reins against the horse’s -neck, and turned him towards the Dominion -trail, which showed as a ribbon of white upon the -hills to the eastward.</p> - -<p>Close behind him he heard a familiar voice -singing an old song: “La, la, boom, boom. La, -la, boom, boom.” The last word was sung with -unusual emphasis, serving as a salutation and -hail.</p> - -<p>Wah, beaming with his usual joyousness, was -trotting towards him.</p> - -<p>“Hey, me bludder, me bludder. You gettee -canned! Oh, me bludder, you allee samee fool -gettee drunk. You beat it to Dominion? Me -bludder welly wise! La, la, boom, boom!” -Wah concluded his outburst with a peal of -laughter.</p> - -<p>Stephen looked down solemnly at him.</p> - -<p>“Damned funny, isn’t it, Wah?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, me bludder, me bludder!”—Wah<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span> -could get no further, before another paroxysm -of laughter overcame him. Recovering somewhat, -he produced from his blouse a greasy -looking package.</p> - -<p>“Me bludder get nothing to eat before he -come to Dominion. Wah bring him pie, oh, -lubbly, lubbly pie.”</p> - -<p>Stephen was deeply touched by the Chinaman’s -kindness. He shook his hand warmly.</p> - -<p>“I had forgotten all about food. Good-bye, -Wah, and thank you a lot.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, me bludder, wait one minnie moming. -I have note. Missee Cameron, she send me -bludder a note!”</p> - -<p>Wah, with some labor, produced from his -pocket a little envelope, and handed it to -Loring.</p> - -<p>“Oh, lubbly, lubbly note! Oh, lubbly—”</p> - -<p>“Shut up, Wah!” flared Stephen. White as -death, he took the note from Wah, and slipped -it inside his shirt. He could not trust himself to -read it.</p> - -<p>“Please thank her, Wah, and—” He could -say no more. Slowly he turned his horse, and -rode towards the hills.</p> - -<p>Wah walked away, murmuring beneath his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span> -breath: “La, la, boom, boom, me poor bludder. -He must habee hellee headache. La, la, boom, -boom.”</p> - -<p>Stephen soon reached the place on the trail -where was situated the old deserted “Q” ranch. -A rusty iron tank by the shanty bore the crudely -painted sign: “Water, Cattle 10 cts. per head. -Horses 25 cts.” Beside the tank, however, in -what had evidently formerly been an empty bed, -gushed a clear stream of water. Stephen smiled -when he saw how nature had thwarted the primitive -monopoly.</p> - -<p>Dismounting, he lifted the saddle from his -horse’s back. Then he deftly hobbled him, and -left him to eat what grass there was by the rocky -stream bed, within a radius which he could cover -with his fore legs tied together. Stephen then -seated himself on the ground, propped the saddle -behind his back, and proceeded to light a pipe, -and to think. All the events of the past few -hours had come upon him with such rapidity -that he had had no time for reflection.</p> - -<p>Seated there in the open, beneath the vivid -blue sky, with no sound but that of the softly, -coolly running water near, all the scene of the -accident loomed clearly before him, far more<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span> -clearly than it had done in the morning when he -had still been in the camp, and surrounded by -the routine of life there. The very warmth of -the sunlight, which should have made a man’s -heart bound with the joy of living, merely added -to the blackness of his mood.</p> - -<p>He was very nervous, and smoked with quick, -hard puffs. Once his pony started at something. -The sound brought Loring to his feet, all of a -quiver. He sat down again, wiping the perspiration -from his forehead with an excited gesture. -Gripping his hands together hard, he thought the -situation over and over. The more he thought -of it, the worse it seemed. This was not a case -which could be called the result of negligence, or -drifting. It came very close to crime, and he -knew it. Stephen Loring was a man who, when -he sat in judgment upon himself, was unflinching. -He weakened only when it came to carrying -out the sentence which the court imposed. He -thought of Miss Cameron, as she had been on -the ride which they had taken together; then of -what she must think of him now. This brought -a flush of shame to his cheeks.</p> - -<p>Suddenly he recalled the note which Wah had -brought to him, and he took it reverently from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span> -his blouse. It was the first time that he had ever -seen her handwriting. His name was written -upon the envelope in clear, decided letters, which -coincided well with the character of the writer. -Stephen looked at the writing, with an infinite -tenderness softening the lines on his face. He -started to tear open the envelope, then suddenly -he stopped.</p> - -<p>“I won’t,” he exclaimed, half aloud. “I will -not read it until I am worthy to do so, or until I -have a great need of it.” Reluctantly he slid -the note back into his blouse. Then, coloring, -he pushed it over to his left side. His heart -seemed to beat more strongly, more manfully, -for the companionship.</p> - -<p>He had eaten no breakfast, and began to be -conscious of a great hunger. He ate, down to -the last crust, the pie which Wah had given to -him. It was as good as its maker had claimed -it to be.</p> - -<p>There is nothing in the world equal to food -for restoring self-respect, and Stephen, having -eaten, began to see the world more normally. -Tightening his belt, he took a long drink from -the stream, then saddled “<i lang="es">Muy Bueno</i>” and -started again on his way.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span></p> - -<p>All the afternoon he rode continually up hill, -till towards five o’clock he struck the Dominion -divide, and timber. The air here, in contrast -to the valley below, was cold, and Loring, only -thinly dressed, shivered. Several times cattle -“outfits” passed him on the trail. Men were -driving in from the range scraggly bunches of -steers, to be fattened before selling. Once he -did not pull his horse out of the trail in time, and -sent a bunch of frightened cattle stampeding -into the underbrush. He was so engrossed in his -thoughts that he hardly noticed the cursing -which he received from the ranchmen.</p> - -<p>At dusk, beside the trail, he saw a bright fire -in front of a tent. Two men, occupied in frying -bacon, and boiling coffee, were seated before it. -The smell that arose from the cooking appealed -strongly to Stephen, and he reined in his horse.</p> - -<p>“Howdy, stranger! Making for Dominion?” -one of the men called out. “Well, you won’t -get there for some time yet. It is twelve miles -from here. Better let us stake you to a meal. -Come from Quentin, do you? Me and my pardner -was going there to-morrow.”</p> - -<p>Stephen, with alacrity, accepted the proffered -hospitality.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Much obliged, friend,” he said. “I’m -pretty well broke, and I was not expecting to -get anything to eat to-night.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t worry about that. You shan’t go -by our outfit hungry. We ain’t made that way. -There was a cuss I knowed once,” continued one -of Loring’s hosts, “up in Cochise County. I -was broke, flat busted, when I was there, and I -asked him to stake me to a meal, and say, the -mean skunk wouldn’t come through at all. Said -I could ‘watch him eat.’ Now what do you -think of that?” As he recalled the crime against -hospitality, the man kicked vigorously at one -of the logs on the fire.</p> - -<p>Loring listened, with due sympathy, to the -tale, the while he eyed with hopeful glances the -coffee-pot, at the edge of which a yellow foam -soon appeared, serving as signal that the meal -was ready.</p> - -<p>“Sorry we can’t give you flapjacks,” remarked -one of the men, as he lifted the bacon off the -fire. “Pardner here makes swell ones, but we’re -pretty low on our grub outfit now. Hope we -can get work at Quentin. Any jobs floating -round loose there?”</p> - -<p>Stephen slowly filled his tin cup with coffee,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span> -and paused, after the western fashion, to blow -into it a spoonful of condensed milk, before he -answered.</p> - -<p>“I am not sure,” he said, “but I think that -there is a vacancy on one of the hoists. I think -they fired a man there recently.”</p> - -<p>“That’s good for us,” exclaimed one of the -men. “Wish they’d fire some more!” Stephen -did not continue the discussion.</p> - -<p>After a quiet smoke beside the embers of the -fire, Stephen rose, and thanking his hosts -warmly, prepared to leave. As he was mounting -he happened to feel a flask that was in his pocket. -He remembered vaguely having filled it the night -before. Reaching down from the saddle he held -out the flask.</p> - -<p>“Have a drink, gentlemen?” he asked.</p> - -<p>One of the men took the flask in his hands, -almost reverently.</p> - -<p>“I don’t know that I won’t,” he said. He -took a long pull, then handed the flask to his -partner.</p> - -<p>“Regards!” drawled the latter.</p> - -<p>The words brought to Loring a bitter train of -memories.</p> - -<p>“Keep the damned stuff if you want it. I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span> -am through with it,” he said. Then, with a -quick good night, he rode off.</p> - -<p>The men, in mild wonder, looked after him -for a moment. Then they relighted their pipes, -and settled themselves by the fire.</p> - -<p>“Mighty nice chap, that,” remarked one, -“but he must feel powerful bad about something -to give away good whisky like that.”</p> - -<p>It was nearly nine o’clock in the evening -when Stephen rode into Dominion. The main -street was brightly lighted, and as it was Saturday -night, the sidewalks were crowded with -people walking restlessly up and down. The -shop windows glowed attractively. Through -several open doors he could see men gathered -about pool tables. The bright lights by the -cinematograph theater showed clearly the faces -of the passing crowd.</p> - -<p>Dominion had passed from the camp into the -town stage, as was evinced by the liberal scattering -of brick houses among those of wooden -construction. Many horsemen were passing in -the street. Fresh from the hills, Loring felt -almost dazed by this renewed contact with established -humanity.</p> - -<p>His first care was to seek a stable for “<i lang="es">Muy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span> -Bueno</i>.” Seeing in one of the side streets a -livery sign, he entered the place and tied his -pony among the long line of horses in the shed. -Then, after saying to the proprietor: “Hay and -not oats,” he walked out into the street.</p> - -<p>“I hope the confounded expensive little beast -won’t order champagne for himself,” he thought. -“He is almost clever enough to do so.”</p> - -<p>As he walked slowly along, he mentally calculated -his resources. Three dollars in cash. -Nothing in credit. A few cents Mexican in -prospect. He would have to sell the pony and -saddle to complete the payment of his poker debt.</p> - -<p>A group of men, thoroughly drunk, passed by, -singing noisily. Idly, Stephen followed after -them, until they came to the little creek that runs -through the center of the town. Across the creek, -high above the dark, silent water, lay a narrow -swinging bridge. One of the group of men -called out: “Let’s go across the bridge of sighs -to Mowrie’s.” The others noisily assented and -soon Loring could hear the bridge ahead of him -creaking beneath their weight. He stood for a -moment, hesitating, staring at the lights across -the bridge, then he deliberately followed.</p> - -<p>The opposite shore of the creek was lined<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span> -with “cribs” and shanties stretched in a long, -sodden row along the bank. From many of -them came the brazen notes of gramophones -in a jarring discord of popular tunes. Women’s -voices were mixed with the music, in shrill unpleasant -laughter. A board walk ran before the -close built houses, and up and down this tramped -throngs of men, talking noisily, singing, swearing. -The faces of some group or other were now -and then visible, as some one scratched a match -to light a cigarette.</p> - -<p>Women of almost every nationality on the -globe stood in the doorways, French, Japanese, -Negroes, Swedes, all dressed in flaunting -kimonas. They called to the men in the crowd, -exchanged jests, or leaned idly against the -door-posts, staring fixedly into the faces of the -men. From many of the places a bright light -streamed out across the water. The shutters of -several were drawn.</p> - -<p>In strange contrast to the scene, in one of the -houses some one was singing in a clear tenor -voice, which sounded as sweet and pure as if it -had been in a choir. For a moment the murmur -of voices and tramp of feet ceased, as people -paused to listen.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span></p> - -<p>Stephen walked slowly down the street. A -woman in one of the darker doorways called out -to him. He stopped, bit his lip hard.</p> - -<p>“Why not? What is the use, now?” he -thought.</p> - -<p>He ran up the steps and opened the door. Inside, -half a dozen painted women were drinking -with the men there. The proprietress beckoned -to him to enter.</p> - -<p>Then like a veil, before his eyes dropped a -cloud of memory. He saw the shed at the -hoist, two bodies laid limply on the ground; -figures moving in dim lantern light.</p> - -<p>He staggered out into the street, drew a deep -breath and strode back across the bridge.</p> - -<p>“I am through with this sort of thing for -good,” he muttered. “I owe the world too big -a debt of reparation now. But I will pay it.”</p> - -<p>For the first time in his life, Loring’s smile -was a smile of power, that power which rises -sometimes from a supreme sorrow, sometimes -from supreme holiness, sometimes, as now, -springing from the black soil of crime; but -bespeaking the discipline which has learned to -control passion, to bring desire to heel, and to -make a man master of himself despite all the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span> -devils that this world or the next can send -against him.</p> - -<p>He had learned his lesson at last, learned it -at the cost of two lost lives, and the cost to himself -of an overshadowing remorse which he -could never escape, let the future hold what it -would. But he had learned it.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X</h2> - -<p>After three days of fruitless search for -work, Stephen’s outlook upon life grew -very gloomy. Dominion was over-supplied -with laborers. In looking backward, -Stephen felt that he had applied for every sort -of position from bank president to day laborer, -but everywhere the answer had been the same: -“Sorry, but we have nothing for you. We are -even turning off our old workmen.”</p> - -<p>In the West, in time of prosperity, positions -and opportunities of every sort go begging. -In time of depression there is no harder place -in which to get work.</p> - -<p>To make matters worse, Stephen from principle -had always refused to affiliate himself with -one of the labor organizations, and in Dominion -the power of the Union is paramount. Once he -had almost persuaded the foreman at one of -the smelters to put him on the rolls; but when -the fact had appeared that he was a non-Union -man the official had changed his mind.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span></p> - -<p>“I can’t risk it. It is all wrong; but if I was -to hire you to-day, why to-morrow I wouldn’t -have three men working.” This had been his -final answer.</p> - -<p>Shortly after this experience, Loring had -been approached by a delegate who had tried -to persuade him to join the Miners’ Union. -The delegate had enumerated the advantages, -and they were many,—a sick benefit of ten -dollars a week, friends wherever he should go, -work at high wages, and a seventy-five dollar -funeral when he died. The delegate had asked -Stephen if it were fair that when the Union, by -concerted action, had brought about the prevailing -high scale of wages, outsiders should both -share the advantage, and yet weaken the Union -position by working contrary to the fixed scale. -At the end, as a peroration, the man had cited -the possibilities of crushing capital at the polls, -arguing with the general point of view of such -men, that the chief aim of capital was to crush -labor.</p> - -<p>“You needn’t pay your dues until you get -your first month’s wages,” he had concluded.</p> - -<p>Stephen had begun to feel that perhaps his -anti-Union convictions had been prejudiced, for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span> -the man had clearly shown many good arguments. -Then the delegate, seeing that Stephen -was weakening, had thought to clinch the -matter. Changing his manner, he had shaken -his finger in Loring’s face and said: “If you -don’t join the Union, we’ll see to it that you -don’t get a job in the territory. We’ll send your -picture to every camp in Arizona, and life will -be hell for you. There was a man only last week -who wouldn’t join. He is in the hospital now, -and, by Gawd, he will stay there for a while.”</p> - -<p>“That settles it,” Loring had answered.</p> - -<p>The man had become all smiles again.</p> - -<p>“I thought you would see it that way,” he -had rejoined.</p> - -<p>“I think that you misunderstand me,” had -been Stephen’s reply. “I would not join your -Union if you hired me to do so. As a matter -of fact, the Miners’ Union here is not a true -labor union. It is a thugs’ Union, and the -sooner all honest workingmen find it out, the -better for the cause of Unionism throughout -the country.”</p> - -<p>The scuffle that had ensued had resulted in -Loring’s favor, but it had not helped him to -find work.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span></p> - -<p>One morning, rather from want of occupation -than from any definite expectations, -Stephen took his place in the post-office at the -general delivery window. He was greatly surprised -when, in answer to his inquiry, the clerk -slipped a letter through the grating. It bore -the Quentin postmark; but the writing was -unfamiliar. Stephen walked across the room, -and leaning in the doorway opened the letter -with curiosity. It was from Mr. Cameron, and -ran in this fashion:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p class="right">“<span class="smcap">Quentin</span>, September 20th.</p> - -<p class="noindent">“<span class="smcap">Stephen Loring.</span></p> - -<p>“<span class="smcap">Dear Sir</span>: I suppose that you realize how final your -actions here must be in regard to any trust being placed -in you. I shall say no more upon the subject. The fact -remains that unfortunately I am in your debt.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>Stephen read this sentence over several times -before continuing:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“I feel bound to make one more effort to repay you, -which must be regarded as final. I have interests in several -companies in Montana, and I will offer you a position -with one of them, on the understanding that you will -never come into my way again or—”</p> - -</div> - -<p class="noindent">here several words were scratched out</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“You must realize how unpleasant it is for my daughter -to be under any obligation to a man, who, to put the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span> -matter plainly, is a worthless drunkard. In offering this -position to you, I may as well say that this is the only -motive which actuates me. The position is one in which -no responsibility is involved, being merely clerical. The -pay would be sufficient to maintain you as long as you -remain steady. The condition I impose would be -absolute.</p> - -<p class="center">“Yours truly,</p> - -<p class="right">“<span class="smcap">Donald H. Cameron</span>.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>Stephen noticed with interest the character -of the signature.</p> - -<p>“I don’t believe that man ever failed at anything,” -he thought. “There is only one thing -that he never learned, and that is how to deal -with a failure.”</p> - -<p>It was the noon hour, and the various whistles -told of lunch, for some. Stephen read the letter -over and over.</p> - -<p>“Why not accept the offer?” he questioned. -Mr. Cameron could certainly feel no more disrespect -for him than he did now, and the -blatant fact that he was hungry and without -work forced itself upon his attention.</p> - -<p>“It means another chance,” he muttered, -and now that he was sure of himself, he knew -that a chance meant success. He thrust the -letter into his pocket.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Hang it, I’ll take him up,” he thought. -“I have been everything else; I may as well be -a grafter.”</p> - -<p>As he slid his hand out of his coat pocket, -he felt another envelope. He pulled it out, and -looked longingly at it. It was Jean’s note. -He hesitated, then tore it open.</p> - -<p>“I need it now, if ever I shall,” he said to -himself. There was only a line, signed with -Jean’s initials.</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“<em>I still believe in you.</em>”</p> - -</div> - -<p>Stephen read it with bowed head. His -shoulders shook. The paper danced up and -down before his eyes. Over and over he read -the note. Unconsciously he stretched out his -hand, as if to press in gratitude and devotion -the hand of some one before him. At length, -with a start, he came to himself. He returned the -note to his pocket, and in a determined fashion -walked up to a man who was standing near him.</p> - -<p>“I would like to borrow two cents for a -stamp,” he said.</p> - -<p>The stranger roared with laughter.</p> - -<p>“Well, you are broke! Say, friend, I’ll stake -you to a meal, if you’re that hard up.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span></p> - -<p>Stephen shook his head: “No, thank you. -I have still my coat, which I can pawn; but I -am much obliged for the stamp.”</p> - -<p>He found an odd envelope lying on a table. -Going over to the desk, he addressed this to -Mr. Cameron. Then taking from the waste -basket a sheet of paper, he wrote quickly upon -it five words:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“I’m damned if I will.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>He put on the stamp with a hard pound of -his fist, and threw the letter into the mail-box. -Then, with his heart beating joyously, he -walked out of the post-office. Inside his coat -a note lay warm against his heart.</p> - -<p>On the corner stood a pawnbroker’s shop. -The brightness of the gilding upon the three -balls showed that it was a successful one. The -place was crowded with men who were disposing -of everything that duty, a mild sense of -decency, or necessity did not for the moment -require. Loring entered the shop, and elbowing -his way to the desk, laid down his coat. -The proprietor picked it up, prodded the cloth -with his thumb-nail, shook his head over the -worn lining, then said:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Two bits on that.”</p> - -<p>Stephen silently took the proffered quarter, -and went out.</p> - -<p>“That means one meal, anyhow,” he thought.</p> - -<p>A gaudy sign attracted his attention: -“Chinese-American Restaurant”—“All you -can eat for two bits.”</p> - -<p>“I think that they do not lose much on their -sign,” he reflected when, a few minutes later, -seated at a counter, he gnawed at some bread -and stew, and drank bitter coffee. “Any man -who ate more than a quarter’s worth would -die.”</p> - -<p>Having eaten, he sauntered over to the -cashier’s window and nonchalantly slid his -quarter across the counter. Then no longer -a capitalist, but also no longer hungry, he -stepped out into the street again. He looked -to right and left wondering in what direction -to turn his footsteps. The sight of a crowd in -front of the post-office determined him. He -questioned a man on the outskirts of the group, -and found that the excitement was caused by -a telegram, the contents of which was posted -in the window. Working his way through the -crowd, Loring reached a position whence he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span> -could make out the notice. The telegram was -from the governor of Sonora, the Mexican -province which lay just across the line from -Dominion.</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“Outbreak of Yaquis. No troops near. Would deeply -appreciate help from Dominion.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>The crowd was laughing and cheering.</p> - -<p>“Me for Old Mexico!” called one.</p> - -<p>“Perhaps we’ll all be generals,” shouted -another.</p> - -<p>The news had spread like wild-fire, and from -every direction appeared groups of men, armed -with Winchesters, shotguns, or Colts. All were -rushing toward the Southern Pacific station. -Stephen hurried up the street to a gun store, -and by dint of hard persuasion obtained from -the proprietor an old Spencer forty-five calibre, -single shot carbine.</p> - -<p>“It will at least make a noise,” thought -Loring. He joined a group of men who were -on their way to the train.</p> - -<p>“I might as well go to Mexico as anywhere,” -he reflected. “My responsibilities are not heavy -just at present.”</p> - -<p>Within half an hour after the receipt of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span> -telegram in Dominion, three hundred men, all -armed to the teeth, were at the station. For in -a region where the sheriff’s posse is one of the -regular forms of entertainment, there are many -men who joyously start upon an expedition of -this kind.</p> - -<p>A cheer arose from the crowd when Harry -Benson, at one time the captain of the “Arizona -Rangers,” appeared upon the scene, clearing -a way for himself by the adept fashion in which -he spat tobacco juice.</p> - -<p>“Going along, Harry? Good boy,” some -one called. “You ought to have brought all -the Rangers with you.”</p> - -<p>“See here,” answered Benson, “this ain’t in -no wise official business. This is sort of a -pleasure excursion.” There was a howl of -laughter at this, then as the engine whistle -blew sharply, all scampered for places in the -“special” which the railway company had -provided.</p> - -<p>A man who was on the front platform of one -of the cars began to sing a song—a very popular -song, of which the verse and chorus were unprintable, -but very singable. With men hanging -out of the windows, standing on the roofs<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span> -of the cars, and with platforms and steps -jammed, the train pulled out of the station, -headed for the Mexican Line, only fifteen miles -away.</p> - -<p>Half an hour brought them to the border. -Here were waiting the governor of Sonora and -many Mexicans, who cheered excitedly as the -train drew into the station. Benson, by unanimous -consent, was acting as director-general -of warfare. As the train slowed down, he -jumped to the platform. A Mexican official -resplendent in uniform and gold braid, in strange -contrast to the motley throng following at Benson’s -heels, stepped forward to greet him. -Benson sang out cheerfully: “Hello, here we -are; what is there for us to do?”</p> - -<p>While the official was explaining the situation, -he looked a bit anxiously at the crowd, -hoping that when the trouble was over, they -would all depart from the province of Sonora -with the same celerity with which they had come. -It certainly was a hard-looking aggregation.</p> - -<p>The Governor talked earnestly with Benson, -speaking excellent English. “I do not know -what to do. According to the laws, no armed -force can enter our territory. It is a bad precedent.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span> -And yet we need help. There are no -troops near Los Andes where the raiders are -feared. Yet the laws are very strict, and as an -officer of the law I must not let them be broken. -The law says plainly: ‘No armed force.’ What -shall I do?” The Governor was in despair over -the situation.</p> - -<p>Benson saved the day.</p> - -<p>“Look here, Gov,” he said. “I used to be an -officer of the law myself. A man must conform -strictly to the laws; I know all about it. But,” -he added, with a wink, “we’re here, just sort -of a disorganized party as happened to meet on -the train. We was all going hunting near Los -Andes, and we sort of came over without -formalities.”</p> - -<p>The Governor’s face beamed with happiness -at this solution.</p> - -<p>“It is <i lang="es">magnifico</i>! And as the custom-house -cannot appraise so many weapons at once, you -are permitted to carry them, gentlemen. In -bond, of course, in bond,” he added hastily.</p> - -<p>“Yesterday we had news from the hills that -the Yaquis were raiding again,” he said to -Benson. “Two prospectors were killed, not -fifty miles from Los Andes. A bridge on the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span> -main line is down. The troops cannot be there -for twenty-four hours.”</p> - -<p>Benson nodded comprehendingly. “Same -old trouble, ain’t it? I wonder these Yaquis -wouldn’t get tired. We’ll fix them up good -for you if they come.”</p> - -<p>These formalities of international law having -been settled, all again boarded the train, and -a slow hour’s run toward the west brought -them to Los Andes.</p> - -<p>The inhabitants of this sleepy little town of -Old Mexico thronged about the station and welcomed -their prospective rescuers with enthusiasm. -Loud cries of “<i lang="es">Vivan Los Americanos!</i>” -echoed from end to end of the platform, as the -men swarmed out of the train.</p> - -<p>Soon the men were assigned to quarters in -the various houses and shops. The plaza before -the cathedral in the center of the town -became, for probably the first time in its existence, -a scene of activity.</p> - -<p>As Benson was completing the disposition -of his men, a Mexican ranch owner rode up to -him.</p> - -<p>“The Señor is the <i lang="es">comandante</i>?” he asked in -broken English.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Sure, Mike, <i lang="es">Seguro Miguel</i>—Fire away!” -answered Benson.</p> - -<p>The ranchman looked puzzled, then commenced -to explain his errand. His ranch, it -appeared, was situated some twenty miles outside -the town, in the direction from which the -Yaquis were expected, and his ranchmen were -all absent upon the range. He asked for five -or six men to defend his <i lang="es">hacienda</i>:</p> - -<p>Benson waved his hand airily, in feeble -imitation of the Mexican’s grand manner: -“<i lang="es">’Sta ’ueno</i>, you shall have them.”</p> - -<p>Turning, he saw Loring, who had been listening -to the talk. Benson was accustomed to -judging men quickly, and he was rarely deceived. -A quick survey of Loring’s face satisfied him.</p> - -<p>“He is no quitter, anyhow,” he thought, -“and at present his moral character don’t -matter.” He called to Loring: “Say, you Mr. -What’s-your-name, you get four other men and -go with this chap to his ranch!”</p> - -<p>“Have you <i lang="es">caballos</i> for them here?” Benson -asked the ranchman.</p> - -<p>“Sí, sí, I can procure them at once,” exclaimed -Señor Hernandez. “And my gratitude, it is -eternal.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Never mind that,” said Benson, turning -away.</p> - -<p>A very short while sufficed for Stephen to -find four volunteers to accompany them, and -within an hour the little party was riding out -of the town to the southward, where lay the -ranch and the threatened pass. The country -was desolation itself, rocky ground covered -with layers of dust and sand. All was gray in -color. The little clusters of sage-brush, all dried -and lifeless in the heat, made no change in the -gray hue. The road was merely a track across -the desert, beaten by chance horsemen or cattle. -Along this the horses scuffled, sending up clouds -of alkali dust into the air for the benefit of the -riders who were behind.</p> - -<p>Stephen rode beside Señor Hernandez, speaking -only in short sentences, to answer or ask -some question. The leather of the saddles, beneath -the sun, was burning hot.</p> - -<p>After four hours of riding, just as the sun was -beginning to drop behind the foothills, they -saw before them in the desert a large patch of -green, as vivid as if painted upon the ground, -fresh and succulent, amidst the desolation of -the plain.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span></p> - -<p>“My alfalfa crop!” exclaimed the Señor, -pointing with pride. “We have irrigated. Much -water. Big crop. <i lang="es">He aqui la casa</i>—there, -behind the alfalfa.”</p> - -<p>Stephen saw rise, as if by magic, a long one-story -structure of adobe, so much the color of -the earth as to have been till now almost indistinguishable. -Beside the house was a large -brush corral. So perfectly was all blended with -the landscape, that not until they were very near -did Loring appreciate the great size of the -building.</p> - -<p>At the corral they dismounted and unsaddled.</p> - -<p>“Better carry the saddles up to the house!” -said Loring to the men, who had hung them -over the corral bars. So, carrying their guns and -saddles, they all walked up to the house.</p> - -<p>Here they were received by the ranchman’s -wife, a striking Spanish beauty.</p> - -<p>“It is Señora Hernandez,” said the Mexican, -with justifiable pride. The Señora showed the -men the rooms where they were to sleep. -Stephen, as commander, was given the largest -room.</p> - -<p>Pepita was very well pleased with the appearance -of the defender whom her husband<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span> -had selected, for in spite of his flannel shirt -and dusty boots, Loring was not bad to look -upon.</p> - -<p>In a few moments, Stephen re-entered the -main room. The Señora was there, leaning -against one of the easements. The scarf that -was thrown over her head added to her charms, -and lent a subtlety to her dark beauty. As -Stephen walked across the room toward her, -he admired her greatly.</p> - -<p>“By George! She is a beauty,” he exclaimed -under his breath. Then answered a -voice within him: “Yes, but at thirty, she will -be fat, oh, very fat.”</p> - -<p>As the Señora turned to greet him, the first -voice made answer: “Yes, but it will be at -least twelve years before she is thirty.”</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI</h2> - -<p>While Stephen was talking with the -Señora, a gong in an inner room -clanged.</p> - -<p>“It is the time for our evening meal, Señor,” -she said, with a pretty little Spanish accent. -After Loring had perjured his soul by swearing -that he was loath to change his occupation for -the pleasure of eating, she smiled at him mockingly, -and led the way into the dining-room.</p> - -<p>The Hernandez ranch was the largest in the -Los Andes region, and the house was furnished -and decorated in an elaborate manner. The -walls of the dining-room were hung with gay -pictures, and the table, set for supper, boasted -several pieces of silver.</p> - -<p>Señor Hernandez presided at the table with -true Latin hospitality, and Stephen, his previous -protestations to the contrary notwithstanding, -did full justice to the excellent fare, -at the same time keeping up a lively conversation -with the Señora. The men with him ate -vigorously, the only break in their steady eating<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span> -being caused by glances at the pretty Mexican -girl who served the meal.</p> - -<p>After supper, Stephen and the Señor went -outside, and walked about the ranch, studying -the possibilities of defense in case of trouble. -At Stephen’s suggestion, they led the horses -from the corral, and picketed them behind the -house, as the first thought of any marauders -would undoubtedly be to raid the corral.</p> - -<p>Like most adobe houses, the ranch house -consisted of a main building, with two wings -running at right angles, thus enclosing three -sides of a court. All the windows of the ground -floor had iron shutters, fastening on the inside. -The ground about the building was as flat as -a board, and was broken only by the lines of -the irrigation ditches which ran amidst the -alfalfa fields.</p> - -<p>“If we station a man to watch upon the roof,” -said Stephen, as they returned to the house, -“it will be all the precaution that we need to -take. On a clear night such as this, a man can -see far in every direction.”</p> - -<p>“It will be well,” answered the Señor. “And, -this door here, it is a heavy one. It will be -hard to break down.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span></p> - -<p>“I don’t believe that it will come to that,” -laughed Stephen. “I don’t believe that we shall -have any trouble at all.”</p> - -<p>“I pray not,” answered Señor Hernandez. -His was not a nature which was exhilarated by -prospective danger.</p> - -<p>When they re-entered the main room, Stephen -glanced quickly from the Señora to her husband.</p> - -<p>“It is strange,” he said to himself, “how a -little swarthy man like that could have won -such a beauty for a wife. I suppose, though, -that if she really loves him, she does not care -if his ears are a bit like an elephant’s, his eyes -too close together, and his nose as thin as a -razor.” The husband of a pretty woman is not -likely to have his charms exaggerated by other -men.</p> - -<p>They spent the evening smoking and talking. -The Señora rolled cigarettes with the greatest -deftness, and the smile with which she administered -the final little pat did much to enhance -the taste of the tobacco.</p> - -<p>At ten o’clock the Señora rose, and after -calling the servant to light the men to their -rooms, bade them good night.</p> - -<p>It had been agreed that Stephen should stand<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span> -the first watch. He insisted that the Señor, -tired as he was from two sleepless nights of -worry, should not share his vigil.</p> - -<p>Having exchanged his carbine for one of his -host’s Winchesters, Loring mounted the ladder -that ran from the hallway of the second story -to the roof. It was a perfect night. The -heavens were glittering with stars, and all was -silent. Not a breath of air came from across -the desert to cool the copings, which were still -warm from the day’s heat.</p> - -<p>Stephen leaned his rifle against the chimney, -then felt in his pockets for a little sack of coarse -“Ricorte” which some one in the town had -given to him. He filled his pipe carefully, packing -the tobacco down with his forefinger, till -all was even; then striking a match, he held -it far from him, until the blue flame of the -sulphur burned to a clear yellow. He held the -match to his pipe until the bowl glowed in an -even circle of fire, and the smoke drew through -the stem in rich, full clouds. Then, picking -up his rifle again, he began a careful lookout -over the plain towards the pass.</p> - -<p>A fact which greatly facilitates the building -of air castles, is that, unlike most buildings,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span> -they need no foundations. The castles which -Stephen built that night, as he paced up and -down the roof, biting hard on his pipe-stem, -would have done credit to a very good school -of architecture. The general design may be -imagined from the fact that time and time -again he drew from his pocket a little crumpled -envelope, and holding it close to the glow of -his pipe, read and reread it. Once he carried -it to his lips, and with a feeling almost as of -sacrilege, kissed it. Then he turned sharply, -for on the roof behind him he heard light footsteps -and the tinkle of a woman’s laughter.</p> - -<p>“Oh, but Señor Loring is a faithful lover,” -exclaimed Pepita, stepping toward him.</p> - -<p>Even in the darkness, Stephen felt himself -blushing up to his hair. He stammered, then -laughed: “I plead guilty, but I am not generally -like that.”</p> - -<p>“It does no harm,” she murmured softly. -“And the Señorita, does she also care so -much?”</p> - -<p>“Not in the least,” answered Stephen. “The -Señorita does not even know that I care.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, you think so? Women are not so—how -do you say—? so blind,” laughed the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span> -Señora. “But you have not asked me why I -am here, Señor.”</p> - -<p>“No,” answered Stephen rather bluntly. -In the light of his reveries of the past hour -he felt rather ashamed of the little flirtation -that he had carried on after dinner with the -Señora.</p> - -<p>“You need not be embarrassed,” she went -on, laughing at his stiffness. “It was not to -see the gallant Señor that I came, though no -doubt there are many who—”</p> - -<p>Loring silenced her with an imploring gesture.</p> - -<p>“No, I came to see if all were well. I was -afraid that I heard noises,” she confessed.</p> - -<p>“All right, so far,” said Stephen. “I do not -think that we shall have any trouble.”</p> - -<p>“Then I will again go down,” she said.</p> - -<p>Stephen walked with her over to the ladder, -and bowing low over her hand, whispered a -low “<i lang="es">Buenas noches!</i>” As he helped her to -the ladder, he looked into her eyes rather -curiously. He could not understand their -expression.</p> - -<p>When she had her foot upon the uppermost -rung, she said good night to him. Then, as he -turned, she said, half shyly: “The letter,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span> -Señor; you will watch the <i lang="es">carta</i> of the Señorita -well?”</p> - -<p>Laughing softly, yet not altogether gaily, she -ran down the ladder.</p> - -<p>“My husband, he is good,” she reflected. -“Ah, very good, but he is as homely as a—monkey.”</p> - -<p>Wiping two little tears from the corners of -her eyes, she stepped quickly back into her -room.</p> - -<p>The time passed very slowly for Stephen. -The clock in the courtyard below struck two. -His rifle barrel began to feel cold in his fingers, -as he fought against sleep. The night had -grown thicker, and he could no longer see far -out into the distance.</p> - -<p>“It will be morning soon,” he thought. “I -don’t believe that the Yaquis mean business -this time.”</p> - -<p>Even as he spoke, his ear caught a low sound. -Then there was a silence. Doubtingly, he -leaned far out over the wall, and listened intently. -Again he heard the sound; again it -ceased. Then once more it arose and became -continuous,—very soft, but insistent, a solid, -dull, irregular thud, as of many hoofs beating<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span> -upon soft ground. The blood in Stephen’s face -boiled with quivering excitement. The hoof-beats -came nearer and nearer, then stopped. -The next sound that he heard was a grating -click by the corral, as of some one slipping down -the bars. He thought with lightning rapidity: -“A shot will be the best way to awaken the -men.”</p> - -<p>Almost instantly afterwards he saw against -the gray-white of the opposite side of the court -a shadow, then another and another. Kneeling -behind the coping, he covered the leader with -his rifle.</p> - -<p>The click of the action as he cocked his Winchester -sounded to him preternaturally loud. -He dropped the muzzle of his rifle a fraction of -an inch until the first shadow drifted across the -sights. He fired, and the shadow dropped. -The flash of his rifle was answered from the -dark by a dozen spurts of flame. All around -him the bullets whined, or clicked against -the dry adobe, sending great chips flying in -all directions. Three times Loring fired, -lying with the butt of his rifle cuddled close -against his cheek. Would the men below -never hear!</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span></p> - -<p>As the vague shapes rushed across the court -for the door with a shrill yell, five knife-like -jets of flame shot from the windows, and the -reports echoed staccato in answer to the fusillade -from the courtyard. The leaders of the -Yaquis had almost reached the shelter of the -doorway, but the angle windows fairly spat fire -as the defenders emptied their repeaters. -Unable to face the withering fire the raiders -wavered, then fell back to the line of the irrigation -ditches, whence they sent a rain of -bullets against the windows of the houses. The -tinkle of breaking glass on all sides was mingled -with the reports of the rifles. The surprise had -been complete for the Yaquis, as they had expected -to find the ranch unprotected.</p> - -<p>As soon as this first attack was repulsed, -Stephen ran to the ladder and jumped down -to join the others. His rifle barrel was burning -hot from the rapidity of his fire.</p> - -<p>He found the men all gathered in one room. -It was a strange looking group which the -flashes of the rifles revealed in the smoky air, -half dressed, kneeling by the shutters, shooting -viciously out into the darkness, at the blurred -things in the ditches. A bullet whistled by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span> -Stephen’s ear as he entered the room, and with -a dull spat buried itself in the plaster behind -him.</p> - -<p>“Easy on the cartridges, boys!” he called. -“They may rush again.” His advice was well -called for, as in their excitement the men were -firing wildly.</p> - -<p>“It is lucky that there are no windows in the -back of the house,” he exclaimed to Señor -Hernandez.</p> - -<p>The latter was engaged in trying to make -himself an inconspicuous target.</p> - -<p>There was the sound of footsteps at the door -of the room and a blinding glare of light, as -Pepita entered, carrying a large lamp. Stephen -snatched it from her and hurled it out the -window through the splintered panes. But its -work had been done. One of the men by the -window sobbed, staggered to his feet, and -leaned out into the night, shaking his fist towards -the ditches. Then he fell face downward across -the ledge, where for an instant he was silhouetted -by the last flicker of the lamp below. Loring -flung himself upon him and dragged him back -into the room, but not before the body was -riddled with bullets. Stephen felt the sting of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span> -several as they grazed his clothes, by some -miracle leaving him unhurt.</p> - -<p>“<i lang="es">Dios!</i>” gasped the woman.</p> - -<p>“Lie down!” shouted Loring, forcing her -to the floor. Then he took the dead man’s -place by the shutter, and began to fire -methodically.</p> - -<p>Encouraged by their success, the Yaquis -again swarmed forward. The whiplike crack -of five Winchesters checked them before they -were within the courtyard.</p> - -<p>The black of the night began to turn to gray-blue -with the hint of dawn. The figures in the -ditches stirred, and as they began to run for -their ponies, the defenders fired into them with -telling effect. Then, in contrast to the previous -rattle of shots, came the sound of the hoofs of -a hundred ponies, scampering back up the -trail.</p> - -<p>“All over!” called out Stephen. Rising -from his knees, he leaned out of the casement, -and sent one more shot towards the flying -Yaquis. It brought no response.</p> - -<p>They carried Haskins, the man who had -been shot, into the next room, and laid him on -the bed. He was quite dead. The Señora<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span> -followed, sobbing. Wildly she turned to Stephen -as he tried to comfort her.</p> - -<p>“You, Señor—you do not know what it is -to kill, by madness, by folly.”</p> - -<p>“Not know?—I—not know?” Stephen -smiled a smile that was not good to see, as he -broke off.</p> - -<p>“Good God!” he thought, “had it left no -trace on him, that haunting vision of two corpses -flung twisted and out of shape on the wreckage -of timber, those two things that had been men -sent out of life by his guilty hand? Had it -not lived with him by night and refused to be -put aside by day? Had they not risen up in the -dark hours and called him by a name from which -he shrank like a blow, and now this woman -told him he could not know what it meant to -kill a man!”</p> - -<p>He put his hands in his pockets, bowed his -head, and walked slowly back into the other -room.</p> - -<p>The light breaking fast in the eastern sky, -showed a disheveled scene. Mattresses were -scattered on the floor, the bedding was thrown -about the room, all of the windows were smashed. -By each casement was a pile of empty brass<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span> -cartridge shells. By one window was a mess of -something red. The air was stale, and filled -with acid-tasting powder smoke.</p> - -<p>Loring went downstairs, and slipping back -the bolts on the heavy door, stepped out into the -cool of the early morning. Outside everything -seemed in strange order, compared with the -scene that he had left. He started on a tour -of investigation about the ranch. The ditches -amidst the alfalfa showed no trace of the death-dealing -occupants of an hour before. As he -walked around the corner of an outbuilding, he -stumbled over a body which the Yaquis had -overlooked in their flight. The Indian’s stiff, -square shoes lay with their toes unbending in -the dust. The blue denim of the overalls and -the buckle of the suspenders showed the trademark -of a Chicago firm! A bullet hole was -clean through the middle of the swarthy, -bronze-colored forehead. Even through the -rough clothing, the flat, rangey build of the -man was evident. The hair, falling forward in -the dust, was coarse and black.</p> - -<p>“Poor devil!” thought Stephen. “He has -ridden on his last raid.”</p> - -<p>He walked quietly away from the body, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span> -went back to the house. “Everything is all -right,” he reported.</p> - -<p>Soon the stove was lighted, and coffee boiling. -The men were laughing and telling stories. -The Señor strode up and down, twisting his -little spikes of mustachios, and exclaiming -upon the valor of the defense.</p> - -<p>When they sat down to breakfast, there was -a seat too many at the table. Loring thought -of the silent form in the room above, and for -a moment felt weak. Then, shaking off his -depression, he entered into the general hilarity. -Time after time, the servant passed the great -platter of dry <i lang="es">tortillas</i>. The big cakes tasted -delicious to the tired men.</p> - -<p>As they finished breakfast, the sound of a -bugle call sent every one to the window. Outside -was a troop of Mexican cavalry, hot on -the trail of the Yaquis. Señor Hernandez invited -the officers to enter, and while he pressed -whisky upon them, gave a voluble account of -the fight. He spoke in such rapid Spanish that -Stephen could understand little; but from the -frequent sweeping gestures, he judged that the -story lost nothing in the telling.</p> - -<p>The officers remained but a short while, then<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span> -remounted, and rode at a sharp trot towards -the hills.</p> - -<p>“I wonder that the government does not -send enough troops to wipe out these fellows. -These cavalry will only drive them back into the -hills, and in a few months they will again swoop -down upon the outlying towns and ranches, -just as they have been doing for the past ten -years,” thought Stephen.</p> - -<p>After breakfast, Loring prepared to return to -Los Andes. The others had accepted the invitation -of Señor Hernandez to stay for a few days -as his guests. A spirit of restlessness pervaded -Stephen, and prevented him from remaining.</p> - -<p>The Señor was to arrange to send home -Haskins’s body.</p> - -<p>“He came from Trinidad, he always said. -Guess he had folks there,” one of the men had -volunteered.</p> - -<p>Just as Loring was mounting, Pepita ran -forward, and whispered something to him.</p> - -<p>He shook his head in reply.</p> - -<p>“Try and see!” was her rejoinder.</p> - -<p>The thought which she had put into his head -made the long ride back to Los Andes pass very -quickly.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span></p> - -<p>The town had resumed its normal appearance. -The loafers were again stretched upon -the steps of the little stores or on the pavements. -Those who were not rolling cigarettes were comfortably -asleep.</p> - -<p>“<i lang="es">Los Americanos vamos</i>,” was the answer to -Stephen’s inquiries.</p> - -<p>After leaving his borrowed horse at a stable, -he wandered idly towards the plaza. Now -that the reaction had come, he felt very tired. -Spying a bench beneath some palm trees, he -stretched himself upon it, and in the security -of him who has nothing, dozed peacefully.</p> - -<p>A mosquito, buzzing vapidly about his head, -caused him to exert himself to the extent of a -few useless blows. A wagon, rumbling down -the street, caused him to look up. Then after -these two exhibitions of energy, he fell soundly -asleep.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII</h2> - -<p>Towards ten o’clock in the evening -Stephen directed his steps to the railroad -station, and seating himself on a -side-tracked flat car, kicked his heels over the -edge, and smoked his last pipeful of tobacco. -He jangled some keys in his pocket, pretending -to himself that they were money. It was bad -enough, he reflected, to be “broke” in the -States, where he could talk the language; but -here—He looked disconsolately at the throng -of Mexicans who were on the platform. “<i lang="es">Buenos -dies</i>, and <i lang="es">que hora?</i> although I am sure I pronounce -them well, will not take me very far in -the world,” he thought. “It does not matter -much where I go; but I certainly must go somewhere. -I will board the first freight train that -appears, whether it is going north, south, east -or west.”</p> - -<p>Having come to this determination, he jumped -down from the car, and walking over to the bulletin -board, ran his finger down the time-table.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Nine o’clock—train for La Punta. Well, -that’s gone. Hello! Here we are—eleven -P. M. express for the City of Mexico. I wonder -what that asterisk means. Oh, yes, Pullmans -only. That would be infinitely more pleasant -than the brake-beams of a freight,” he mused, -“and for me it would be equally cheap.”</p> - -<p>Stephen was a novice at the art of “beating -it,” but he possessed two very valuable assets, -a keen observation and a vivid imagination. -Having thus resolved to travel in state, he returned -to his flat car, and set about planning -ways and means. A few minutes of solemn -thought gave him his first conclusion: that at -this time of year the southbound trains would -not be running full.</p> - -<p>“Therefore there will be many vacant -berths,” he thought.</p> - -<p>A few more puffs upon his pipe gave him the -next link in his plan. “Whether empty, or -full, the Pullman company has all the berths -down.”</p> - -<p>Thought number three: “At night they -make long runs, without stopping. Therefore,” -thought Stephen, “once on board, and safely -tucked in an upper berth, I can travel until<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span> -morning without being discovered and thrown -off the train.”</p> - -<p>“Now comes the second part of my problem: -how to get on the train and into my berth without -being discovered.” He shut his eyes, and -visualized a train standing at the station. -“Where would the porters stand?” he asked -himself.</p> - -<p>He thought hard, and remembered that at -night the porters generally stand at opposite -ends of their cars, so that every alternate set -of steps is unguarded.</p> - -<p>“Now,” he reflected, “if the berths are down, -the curtains will be drawn, therefore there -will be little light from the car windows, to -bring me into prominence, and the passengers -will probably be asleep. All will go well, if -the vestibule doors are not locked. But generally -on hot nights they are unlocked. Anyhow, -I must risk it.”</p> - -<p>As he mused over his plan giving it the final -touches, the express for the City of Mexico -thundered into the station.</p> - -<p>With a grating of brakes, and a squish of -steam, the heavy train sobbed itself to a stop, -the engine dropping from the fire-box a stream<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span> -of glowing coals between the gleaming steel -rails, and blowing forth steam from the exhaust.</p> - -<p>“Here’s my train,” thought Loring. “It -looks very comfortable.”</p> - -<p>He slipped his pipe into his pocket, and -stepping back into a shadowy corner, awaited -his opportunity.</p> - -<p>From the platform arose an irregular murmur -of voices, such as always attends the arrival of -a train at night. That murmur which, to the -passengers lying half awake, sounds so far away, -and unreal! He heard the bang and thump of -trunks being thrown out of the baggage car. -A party of tourists, weighted down with hand-luggage, -hurried by him. Even as he thought, -the white-jacketed porters stood with their -little steps alternately at the right and left ends -of their respective cars, so that in the long train -there were three unguarded platforms.</p> - -<p>A man was rapidly testing and oiling the car -wheels. His torch flared yellow-red against -the greasy brown of the trucks, and made queer -shadows dance on the red varnished surface of -the cars.</p> - -<p>Stephen tried to make out the name of the -car nearest to him. The first four gilt letters<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span> -showed clearly in the torchlight: “ELDO”—The -man with the torch moved nearer. “ELDORADO,” -spelled Stephen. “Perhaps the -name is a delicate hint to me from Fate.”</p> - -<p>The inspector passed on up the train, hitting -ringing blows on the wheels with his short, -heavy mallet. He tested the last car, then -stepped back from the train, swinging his torch -around his head as a signal to the engineer.</p> - -<p>“It must be now or never,” thought Loring. -But which platform to try! At that instant, -from the car opposite him, came a great puff -of white steam, for a moment almost obscuring -the steps from view.</p> - -<p>Loring darted forward, and jumped upon -the train platform. Anxiously he thrust his -shoulder against the vestibule door. It was -unlocked. As he gained the vestibule, the car -couplings tightened with a jerk, and the train -clumsily started. He took a hasty glance down -the interior of the car. At the opposite end -the porter was closing the vestibule door. The -aisle was clear.</p> - -<p>Stephen stepped quickly into the car, pulled -back the curtain of the nearest section, and -stepping on the lower berth, caught hold of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span> -the curtain bar, and with one pull swung himself -up. In the process, he inadvertently stepped -on the fat man in the lower berth. Stephen -knew that he was fat, because he felt that way. -The man swore sleepily, and twitched the curtain -back into place.</p> - -<p>“I think that I won’t put my boots out to be -cleaned to-night,” said Loring to himself. “It -would be tactless.” Then he pulled the blankets -up over him, rolled over close to the far side of -the berth, and fell asleep, lulled by the hum of -the car wheels, pounding southward fifty miles -an hour.</p> - -<p>Tired out by his vigil of the night before, -Stephen slept until it was late. He awoke with -a start to find that it was broad daylight. -Sleepily he tried to think where he was. His -eye fell on the dome of polished mahogany above -him, upon the swaying green curtain, and the -swinging bellrope. Then he recalled the situation. -For a few moments he lay back, blissfully -comfortable. His weary muscles were grateful -for the rest. Then he roused himself, and -peered cautiously out from between the curtains. -While he was looking up and down the dusty -stretch of carpet in the aisle, the colored porter<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span> -rapped hard on the woodwork of the lower -berth, and proceeded to awake the occupant.</p> - -<p>“Last call for breakfast, number twelve, last -call; half-past nine, sir, half-past nine.”</p> - -<p>Stephen curbed a childlike desire to reach -over and pull the kinky hair of the darky.</p> - -<p>“I am sure that he would think that I was a -ghost,” he laughed to himself.</p> - -<p>He could hear the man below him turn over -heavily, then grunt, and begin to dress.</p> - -<p>“I think I also had better arise,” reflected -Loring. He watched the porter until the latter -was at the far end of the car, then dropping his -feet over the edge of the berth he slid out onto -the swaying floor, almost into the arms of the -amazed Pullman conductor, who at that instant -had entered the car.</p> - -<p>“Where did you get on?” gasped the brass-buttoned -official. “I didn’t know that there -was an ‘upper’ taken in this car.”</p> - -<p>“At Los Andes,” answered Stephen, “I was -rather tired, so I thought I would not bother -you at the time.”</p> - -<p>The conductor looked hard at Stephen, and -took in at a glance his ragged clothes, dirty -shoes, and flannel shirt; then he grinned.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span></p> - -<p>“That was mighty considerate of you, -stranger; now let’s have your ticket. We have -almost reached our next stop.”</p> - -<p>Stephen pretended to feel in his pockets, -though he well knew that it was useless. The -other people in the train were beginning to -stare.</p> - -<p>“To be put off a train would be far pleasanter -in imagination than in reality,” flashed across -Stephen’s mind.</p> - -<p>“Hurry up, now,” repeated the conductor. -“Where is your ticket?”</p> - -<p>“I haven’t any,” Loring blurted out.</p> - -<p>“Come on, now, no nonsense! fork up!” -insisted the conductor.</p> - -<p>“I would gladly, if I had any money,” rejoined -Stephen, then with seeming irrelevancy, -he added: “How far is it from here to the -‘City’?”</p> - -<p>“It is about seven hundred miles,” answered -the conductor, “but I am sure you will find it -a delightful walk.”</p> - -<p>“Last call for breakfast in the dining-car. -Last call,” again echoed through the car.</p> - -<p>“Better hurry, sir,” said the porter, not -realizing the situation, as he passed Stephen.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Thank you,” said Loring, with a grim smile. -“But I think I will refrain from eating this -morning.”</p> - -<p>A rather heavy faced man, who was sitting -near by, laughed audibly. Stephen became -the center of interest for the passengers. For -them, the little scene was a perfect bonanza, -serving to break the monotony of the trip. Loring -was conscious of the stare of many eyes, -about as effectually concealed behind books -and magazines as is an ostrich with its head in -the sand.</p> - -<p>“Come out into the vestibule with me!” said -the conductor, rather gruffly. Stephen followed -him in silence. When they were on the platform, -the conductor turned and looked at him -squarely. Loring noticed that there could be -kind lines about the close-set jaw.</p> - -<p>“See here,” began the former, “you don’t -look to me like a man who is often working this -sort of game. I guess you must be sort of up -against it, ain’t you?”</p> - -<p>Stephen bowed his head slowly, in non-committal -agreement.</p> - -<p>“Now I don’t like to see a man down and -out,” went on the conductor, “unless he is the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span> -kind that deserves to be, and you ain’t. Besides, -you’re from the States like I am, and so, -though I’d lose my job if it were found out, -the company is going to set you up to this ride -free.”</p> - -<p>Stephen’s face lighted with gratitude, as he -grasped the man’s hand, and thanked him.</p> - -<p>“When did you have anything to eat last?” -asked the conductor suddenly.</p> - -<p>“Not since yesterday morning,” answered -Stephen.</p> - -<p>“Well, you go right into that car” (he pointed -forward with his thumb) “and eat. I’ll make -it all right with the dining-car people.”</p> - -<p>“That is too much,” said Loring. “I -can’t”—</p> - -<p>The conductor cut him short. “Some time -when you have the money, you can pay me -back. If you don’t ever have it, don’t worry. -No, you mustn’t thank me any more. It is -just that you are an American, and I don’t like -to see a fellow from the States up against it in -this Godforsaken land.”</p> - -<p>As Loring walked through the train, his blood -tingled with the pride of race and citizenship, -tingled with the glow that comes or should come<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span> -to every man, when he realizes the strength of -the great brotherhood to which he belongs: -realizes that when things are stripped to their -elemental facts, and the veneer of international -courtesy and friendliness removed, he is -standing shoulder to shoulder with his countrymen -against the world.</p> - -<p>When at last the train drew into the “City,” -Stephen said a warm good-bye to his benefactor, -then followed the line of passengers out into the -street. With no definite purpose in mind, he -wandered up and down the city, staring idly -into the shop windows. By accident, he found -himself in a great plaza. He was pleased -with the gaiety.</p> - -<p>“If it were not for economic distress, I should -be very well off,” he thought. “I must get work -somewhere, and immediately.”</p> - -<p>He walked up one of the side streets, looking -at all the signs, hoping that one might give him -a clew. For a long time he saw nothing helpful, -and he was on the brink of discouragement, -when his eye was attracted by a large gilt umbrella -on the next corner, hung out over the -street. Beneath it was a Spanish sign to the -effect that umbrellas could be bought, sold, or<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span> -repaired within. In the window was a large -placard: “We speak English.”</p> - -<p>“If I were skilful with my hands,” thought -Loring, “I might get a job repairing here; but -I am not skilful with my hands.”</p> - -<p>He stood reflecting, his hands deep in his -pockets. An idea soon came to him, for -he had always been more resourceful than -successful.</p> - -<p>He walked boldly into the shop, and approached -the proprietor. The man began to -assume the smile with which he welcomed prospective -buyers, noticed Loring’s clothes, and -checking the smile, waited in silence for him to -speak. Stephen, unabashed, smiled in a most -friendly fashion, and a few words of comment -upon the admirable situation of the shop, and -the excellence of the stock, quite won the -owner’s confidence. After a few moments of -conversation, in a guile-free manner he asked: -“And do you do much repairing here?”</p> - -<p>“No,” the proprietor admitted, “very little. -Most of my business is to buy and sell.”</p> - -<p>“It seems strange that in a big city such -as this there should be no demand for -repairs?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span></p> - -<p>Stephen made the statement a question by -the rising inflection. He spoke with the hesitating -assurance which had made so many people -trust him.</p> - -<p>The proprietor shook his head in answer: -“No, there is no demand.”</p> - -<p>“Is it not that people do not think, perhaps, -do not know of your place?”</p> - -<p>“Very likely you are right,” answered the -storekeeper. He was pleased by the stranger’s -interest in his business.</p> - -<p>Then Loring played his high card.</p> - -<p>“Suppose that you had an active English-speaking -agent, who would go to the offices -and homes of the American and English colony, -and collect umbrellas to be repaired, then would -not your business flourish?”</p> - -<p>The shop owner grasped the plan, but not -with both hands.</p> - -<p>“Y-e-s,” he answered slowly. In dealing -with an American he felt that he must be on -his guard.</p> - -<p>“Well,” continued Stephen, “I am such a -man, very efficient (Heaven help me!) and reliable -(It won’t!). For a commission, no pay -in advance, but for a commission of say ten<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span> -cents for each umbrella, I will collect for you.” -The umbrella man consented half reluctantly. -The matter was soon arranged, and Loring -hastened forth upon his rounds.</p> - -<p>By six o’clock, after many strange experiences, -and rebuffs, he had managed to collect ten umbrellas. -Gaudy red, somber black, two green -ones, and one white. All were in advanced -stages of decrepitude. He had pleaded with -the owners to let them be restored, as if each -umbrella had an “inalienable right to life, -liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.”</p> - -<p>With his odd collection bundled under his -arms, Loring started on his return to the store. -Greatly pleased with the success of his scheme, -he strolled along talking to himself, and not -noticing where he was going.</p> - -<p>Walking in the opposite direction to Loring -on the same sidewalk was another man. His -quick, decisive steps and the slightly deprecating -glance which he cast at any thing of beauty -in the windows of the shops that he passed -proclaimed him an American. The expression -on his face varied from amusement to scorn -as he glanced at things that were different from -those in the States. There was in his whole<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span> -manner that good-humored toleration of the -best achievements of another nation that marks -the travelling American. The sidewalk was -narrow, and the heavy shoulders of this man -overshadowed half the distance across. He was -covering a good yard at a stride, which was all -the more remarkable as the most of his height -was above the waist. Had he been a girl, his -hair would have been called auburn where it -showed beneath his hat. Being a man, it may -be truthfully said that it matched the bricks of -the building he was passing. His eyes, which -were as round as the portholes of a ship, betokened -a degree of honesty and kindness which -matched well with the general effect of strength -and homeliness given by his whole appearance. -The energy of all his motions was a sharp contrast -to Loring’s lazy stroll. At the second that -he reached Loring, his eyes were uplifted in -wondering curiosity at the bright colors of -the roof tiles. His preoccupation, combined -with Loring’s absorption, made a collision -inevitable. And the inevitable, as usual, -took place.</p> - -<p>“I beg your pard—” began Stephen, raising -his eyes.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Stephen Loring!” exclaimed the stranger. -“Where in the devil did you come from?”</p> - -<p>“Baird Radlett!” called Stephen, as if -stupefied.</p> - -<p>They shook hands warmly. Radlett was an -old friend of Stephen’s, one who had been an -intimate in the days before Loring’s misfortunes.</p> - -<p>“Come on, Steve, we’ll go and get a drink,” -said Radlett.</p> - -<p>Loring shook his head. “Not for me, -thanks,” he answered.</p> - -<p>“Phew!” whistled Radlett. “Since when?” -he involuntarily exclaimed. Then for the first -time he took notice of the strange load which -Loring was carrying.</p> - -<p>“What on earth, Steve?” he asked, pointing -to the umbrellas.</p> - -<p>In the old days Loring had been well off, -Radlett rich, and it hurt Stephen to explain his -abject poverty. He hesitated a moment, then -unblushingly replied:</p> - -<p>“Why you see, Baird, I am on a sort of house-party -here, and the weather being fine, I thought -that I would take all the girls’ umbrellas around -to be fixed.”</p> - -<p>Radlett stared in amazement, then both broke<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span> -into shouts of laughter, as the ridiculousness of -the excuse struck them simultaneously.</p> - -<p>“See here, Steve, I know that you are in hard -luck. Come down to my hotel with me, and we -will talk things over,” said Radlett. Putting -his arm affectionately through Loring’s, he -dragged him, protesting, along with him. As -they walked, Stephen explained the matter of -the umbrellas, while Radlett listened amused, -but a bit saddened.</p> - -<p>“To think of dear old Steve Loring reduced -to peddling umbrellas!” he said to himself.</p> - -<p>On their way, they came to the gilt sign of -the umbrellas.</p> - -<p>“I must leave these here,” said Loring.</p> - -<p>Radlett tactfully waited outside, while Stephen -entered and deposited the results of his collection. -The proprietor, who, when released from -Stephen’s winning conversation, had begun to -feel rather worried, was surprised and delighted -at the success of the mission. He opened the -cash drawer, and handed to Stephen a silver -dollar. Stephen wrote down the addresses of -the umbrella owners, then with his new earned -dollar clinking lovingly against the keys in his -pocket, he rejoined Radlett.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span></p> - -<p>They walked briskly to the hotel where Radlett -was staying, and stepping into the smoking -room, were soon comfortably ensconced in two -big leather armchairs, placed in an out-of-the-way -corner of the room.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII</h2> - -<p>Radlett pounded upon the nickel bell -on the smoking table, and ordered two -cigars. Stephen bit the end of his cigar -hastily, while Radlett produced a clipper from -his pocket, and carefully cut the end of his. -These unconscious actions portrayed well the -differences in their characters. Drawing a match -from the white earthenware holder, Baird -scratched it on the rough surface, and then held -the light to Stephen’s cigar.</p> - -<p>“Mine is lighted, thank you, Baird,” said -Loring, and through blue circles of smoke he -watched Radlett light his own cigar.</p> - -<p>“I had almost forgotten what a stocky old -brute Baird was,” he mused. “I do not think, -though, that I could ever forget that dear old -face. Of all the faces that I ever knew his is -the homeliest, and the kindest! If he poked -that long jaw of his out at me, and looked at me -with those honest eyes, he might tell me that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span> -black was white, and I should fight the man -who said that it was not true.”</p> - -<p>Radlett also utilized those first moments of -silence brought about by a good cigar, an old -friend, and a comfortable chair, to make a few -observations of his own.</p> - -<p>“In five years, Steve has changed a great -deal,” he thought. “Five years of failure, and -drifting, such as I judge these to have been, -leave their mark on any man, definitely and indefinitely. -Imagine Loring, the fastidious, in -those clothes five years ago! And then the old -frank manner has become a bit hesitant. He -seems always on the defensive. Poor old chap, -he must have had some pretty hard blows. The -old light in his eyes is no longer there; but after -all he has that same quality of winning appeal, -of humor and of latent strength, which -nothing can obliterate, which always has made -and always will make every one who knows -him hope for the best, and pardon the worst.” -At the conclusion of his reflections, Baird’s -eyes were damp.</p> - -<p>Stephen smoked slowly, as one would sip -a rare old wine. Then, taking the cigar from -his mouth, he held it before his eyes, twirling<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span> -the label slowly around, and looking at it -appreciatively.</p> - -<p>“It is eleven months since I smoked a good -cigar, Baird; perhaps you can guess how this -one tastes to me,” said Loring softly, almost as -if talking to himself. Then he relapsed again -into silence.</p> - -<p>Radlett puffed vigorously on his cigar, then -said: “Steve, it is your own fault that you are -not smoking good cigars all the time.”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps it is,” answered Loring; “but the -fact remains, and eleven months is a long time -out of one’s life to lose such happiness.”</p> - -<p>“The last time that I heard of you, you were -in Chicago,” remarked Radlett. “Some one -told me that you had a good position there. -What happened to you?”</p> - -<p>“Fired,” was the laconic answer.</p> - -<p>“Did you deserve to be?”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>One of the things that Loring’s friends held -dearest in him was the fact that he never -shirked the truth in the matter of his delinquencies. -His own word on the matter was -final. In the old days Loring’s deficiencies had -been among his most charming attributes. People<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span> -had always spoken hopefully of “When he -buckles down.” Now the “When he will,” -had become “Now that he has not,” and his -deficiencies were not so charming.</p> - -<p>Radlett smoked on imperturbably. When -he again spoke, his voice was thick with smoke.</p> - -<p>“What was your last position?”</p> - -<p>“Hoist engineer, Quentin Mining Company.”</p> - -<p>Again the query: “Why did you leave?”</p> - -<p>“Fired,” repeated Stephen, flushing savagely. -Then looking Radlett in the eyes, he added: -“I was drunk, and through my fault two men -were killed.”</p> - -<p>Leaning forward, Radlett laid his hand on -Loring’s shoulder, and gripped it tightly with -his strong fingers.</p> - -<p>“Steve, old man, I am sorry for you. I know -what this must mean to you. You were always -the most kind-hearted fellow on earth, and I -can see how this has crushed and saddened -you. I’m—I’m damned sorry—but, Steve, -you needed it. It will be the making of you, -Steve. We have all been wanting to help you, -and we could not; you would not let us. You -have lost almost everything in the world,—your -money, your position, your family. You<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span> -have lost prize after prize which you might have -won; and all these things have not held you. -You still had that quality of drifting. You used -to think,—I remember well how we used to -talk it over,—that love would hold a man. -It won’t. If you have tried it, you know”—Loring -breathed hard—“if you have not, -then you have been spared one more blow. -You never had, or could have had, religion; I -don’t know what that might have done for you.” -Radlett was speaking fast now, and though he -struck hard, Loring never flinched.</p> - -<p>“You always knew that you were hurting -yourself by what you did; but that did not -check you,” went on Radlett. “You had, I -remember, a creed of ethics in which, so you -said, you logically believed. You know how -much good that has done you.</p> - -<p>“Steve, I am as sorry for you as if you were -myself—yes, sorrier.” In the intensity of -their grasp, his fingers almost crushed Loring’s -shoulder. “I know what it seems to you, the -feeling of guilt, and of remorse; but you deserved -it and you needed it. The one thing -that could have stopped your drifting was to -find that your destiny and actions are inextricably<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span> -tangled with those of other men. Now -that you have learned that by drifting you may -sink other ships, you won’t drift. I know you, -Steve, and I swear it. This has been your salvation.” -Radlett stopped short, and sank back -into his chair.</p> - -<p>Stephen sat looking sternly into the smoke. -There were deep lines beneath his eyes, showing -dark against his pallor, for so great was the -tumult within him that even through his heavy -tan his face showed white. When he spoke -it was as a man who opens his mouth, and does -not know whether the words that he speaks are -loud or soft.</p> - -<p>“You are right, Baird. I was wrong, and -Baird, I’ve thrown over everything in the world -that I cared about. There was a girl, Baird; -you were right about that, too. She believed -in me, even though she did not care. I cared -for her more than for anything that I have -ever dreamed of in the world. She was everything -to me, Baird, and I promised her that I -would make good. I broke my word. It was -the only thing that I had not broken before. -Well, my love for her did not check me.</p> - -<p>“But since that—that—murder,” he spoke<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span> -now from deep in his chest, “I have gripped -myself; I have found myself. I am going to -work up again, Baird. I can,—I am on the up -grade. I am sure of it. It is a hard struggle, -but the fight of it makes it all the more worth -while. It will be hard, and it will take time; -but I can do it.”</p> - -<p>Radlett stared out of the window for a few -moments, as though deeply absorbed in watching -a passing carriage. Letting his eyes travel -back to Loring, he asked: “Did you ever -hear of the Kay mine? I think that it was -situated near where you were last working.”</p> - -<p>Stephen nodded. He was relieved at the -change from the tenseness of the conversation, -and a little ashamed of the emotion which he -had shown. “Yes,” he answered, “it was only -fifteen or twenty miles from Quentin. An English -syndicate bought it some time ago. They -brought out polo ponies, dog-carts, and heaven -knows what besides, to gladden their hearts -while in exile. I rode there only a few weeks -ago, and looked over the place. The mine has -been shut down for a year. It is a wonder that -they were ever able to open it in the first place, -with all the nonsense that they had. A man<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span> -whom I saw there told me that the English -managers had spent two days in arguing where -to put the ‘baths in the houses of the tenantry.’ -I hear that the mine has just been sold again.”</p> - -<p>Radlett grinned from ear to ear at the thought -of the effect on the community of a remark about -the “tenantry.”</p> - -<p>“Still,” went on Loring, “almost everybody -says that it is a very rich property, and would -have paid well if it had only been worked -properly. The indications were very good for -a big vein.”</p> - -<p>Radlett beat a tattoo with his fingers on the -arms of his chair.</p> - -<p>“I have just bought the mine,” he said.</p> - -<p>Stephen looked at him in surprise.</p> - -<p>“I thought,” he said, “that you were only -interested in railroads.”</p> - -<p>“That is true; but this is a sort of ‘flyer.’ -I had the chance to buy the property very -cheaply, and the expert whom I sent to look at -it reported it as good, if it were properly managed. -I must get as manager a man whom I -can absolutely trust, as I shall have no time to -supervise the work personally. Stephen, will -you take the position?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span></p> - -<p>Loring sat up straight in his chair.</p> - -<p>“I am not the man for the place,” he said; -“I know very little about mining, and besides—”</p> - -<p>“Leave out the ‘besides’,” answered Radlett. -“That is over with. I would trust you now as -soon as any man living. As for the knowledge -of mining, you will not require any. There is -a good mine foreman there who can attend to -that. What I want is a man to organize and -run the plant, to make it a paying producer. -It needs a man who understands men, more -than a man who understands mining. The ore -is there. The men to get the ore will be there; -but there must be a head for the whole system. -You know, better than I do, that a new mine -means a new community to be governed. It -needs a man who will see that for every copper -cent that goes into the ground, two copper cents -come out, a man who will see that the machinery -which is ordered arrives on time. It -needs a man who will pick the right subordinates -and will give them pride in their work. -It needs a man who will get the labor, and -keep it there. That is what I want you for, -Steve. You can do the work. Now will you?”</p> - -<p>Two voices seemed to whisper in Loring.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span> -One was of pride, the other was of pride in -himself. The voice of pride whispered: “He -is your friend, and is offering this to you from -charity.” The other voice, aggressive and self-reliant, -whispered: “You can do the work -well. It needs a <em>man</em>, and you are capable of -doing it.”</p> - -<p>“Baird,” he said brokenly, “I will. I can’t -thank you; it is far too big a chance to be acknowledged -by mere thanks. But I will do my -best for you, and if I fail, it will be because I -am not a big enough man, and not because I -have not tried.”</p> - -<p>“The thanks will be from me to you, when -the Kay is the biggest producer in Pinal County,” -responded Radlett. “If you do your best, it -will be the best that can be done. Don’t think -that it is from friendship that I offer you this. -I always keep friendship and business apart, -and I am offering this to you because you are -the man that I need.” Radlett took a large -leather covered note-book from his pocket.</p> - -<p>“Here are the details of the proposition,” -he said, and for almost an hour he read aloud -a list of figures and estimates. Loring listened, -keenly alert, and questioned and criticised with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span> -an insight which surprised Radlett, who several -times looked up in approval at some suggestion. -When he had finished, he closed the book, and -said: “The acting manager will start you on -your work. The mine was opened last week, -but everything there is still at sixes and sevens. -When do you think that you can start north?”</p> - -<p>“I will take the eleven o’clock train to-night,” -answered Stephen, decidedly, “only—”</p> - -<p>“By the way,” said Baird, in a matter of -fact manner, “you had better draw your first -month’s salary in advance. There will be a -great many things that you need to get.” He -wrote a check and gave it to Loring. “They -will cash this for us at the office. I shall telegraph -to-night to the mine, telling them to -expect you; also to the company in Tucson, -telling them to honor your drafts.”</p> - -<p>Radlett rose and looked at his watch. “It is -eight o’clock and I am as hungry as a bear, -and,” he added, with a twinkle in his eyes, “if -you can leave that house-party of yours, where -the girls have such charming umbrellas, we -might dine together before you start.”</p> - -<p>They entered the dining-room, where the -orchestra was playing gaily, and settled themselves<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span> -at a table glowingly lighted with candles -under softened shades.</p> - -<p>“Doesn’t this seem like old times, Steve?” -said Radlett, while he carved the big planked -steak which they had ordered. Throughout -the meal, time and again the phrase: “Do you -remember?” was repeated, recalling hosts of -memories, both sad and gay. The intimacy -between Radlett and Loring had been of such -depth and woven with so many bonds that the -years in which they had been separated made -no difference in their complete companionship. -They were not forced to fall back on the past -on account of lack of sympathy and mutual -interest in the present, as is so often the case; -but rather they looked backward as one might -open a much loved book, the interest of which -increases as the covers wear out, and in which -the delight is intensified when some congenial -soul has shared its moods, and its laughter. -Through all the conversation, Radlett, with an -inborn tact unexpected in a man whose manner -was so bluff, skilfully recalled Stephen’s successes, -and dwelt upon them in an endeavor to -raise that self-confidence in Loring which had -been shaken to its core. Stephen’s failures were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span> -recalled by Stephen himself, whose recollection -of them was undimmed though his perspective -on them had changed. So quickly did the time -pass that it was with a start that they both -heard the clock in the hall outside strike ten, -in a deliberate, impersonal fashion. In answer -to a question from Radlett, Loring shook his -head.</p> - -<p>“No, I have no preparations to make. If -the city with no history is happy, then certainly -the person with no possessions to bother him -should be content.”</p> - -<p>So they smoked in quiet companionship until -it was time to leave for the station. Baird saw -Loring on board the train, and they parted -after a silent, firm handshake, which gave -strength to one and conviction to the other.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV</h2> - -<p>In six months after Loring had taken charge, -the Kay mine was producing on a paying -basis. What those six months had accomplished -was little short of marvelous. At the -time of the arrival of the new manager, everything -had been in an extreme state of disorganization. -Unused machinery stood uncovered -and rusting. The pumps were hardly more -than holding the water in the shafts. No new -timbering had been put in place to supplant -the old, which was dangerously rotten. The -costly electric lighting plant had been almost -ruined by neglect. Discord had been reigning -between the various heads of departments, and -discord in a community in which there is no -recreation, and from which there is no way of -escape, is a dangerous element.</p> - -<p>When Loring had assumed control, in explanation -of failures each worker had murmured -complaints of others. At the mess there -had been gloomy silence, in contrast to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span> -joviality which had prevailed at the old mess -in Quentin. Distrusted and disliked, Loring -had firmly pursued his course until that course -was justified, and the criticism and hatred had -turned to respect and admiration. He had -worked night and day, attending to everything -himself. Loring was tireless in his enthusiasm, -and he had inspired the men under him to do -their work better than they knew how. The -result was that by this time, the system of a well-built -machine had supplanted the previous chaos. -And though it was far from a perfect machine, -each day was adding to its efficiency.</p> - -<p>The nervous irritability of the mess had -been relieved by the arrival of an old friend. -One day Hop Wah had drifted into Stephen’s -office and after announcing solemnly: “Me -canned, too,” had stood waiting expectantly -until Loring had ordered him installed as -assistant cook in the company eating-house. -Within a week after this the meals had become -joyous occasions. Wah would dance from man -to man as he served the meals, murmuring insults -which pleased even the insulted, and provoked -roars of laughter at the victim’s expense. -When he had some particularly bold insult to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span> -deliver, he would sing it from the kitchen window. -The singing lent impersonality and the -distance safety. Soon the refrain and interlude -of his old song, “La, la, boom, boom,” were as -well known, and as popular in Kay, as they -had been in Quentin.</p> - -<p>Radlett had told Loring that there would -be much work for him to do, and he had not -been guilty of exaggeration. Night after night -the electric light beneath the green tin reflector -in the office had burned until well into the morning. -Then a watcher might have seen it go out -suddenly, before a tired man turned the key in -the office door.</p> - -<p>The increase of efficiency in the work at the -Kay mine was due to one thing,—the ceaseless -vigilance of Stephen Loring, and the outward -circumstances were only the manifestation -of the changed conditions within himself. One -who had known Loring, the failure, would -scarcely have recognized Loring, the success. -The chin line no longer drooped, his smile -showed honest pride in the goodness of his -work, his movements were alert, his head thrown -back. His skin was ruddy and his eyes clear, -yet the marks about his mouth showed traces<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span> -of the struggle through which he had passed, -and there were new lines of care lying in furrows -across his forehead. He had aged under responsibility, -and something of the old, lazy -charm which had endeared him to his friends -was gone; but a stranger looking at him would -have appreciated at once that here was a man -of force, one who meant to be master, and who -was fitted to be.</p> - -<p>It is possible that the change in his dress contributed -as much as the more subtle developments, -for Loring, in his blue suit, soft white -shirt, and well-oiled tan boots, was a very different -looking man from the shabbily clothed -wanderer who had sought work last year in -Phœnix.</p> - -<p>On one autumn afternoon Stephen sat at -the desk in his office, engaged in dictating a -report to the directors of the Company. Above -the rattle and click of the typewriter his voice -rose and fell monotonously: “The construction -work alone is behind. Within the workings -three new stopes have been opened since -last report, at positions marked on the enclosed -print. The ore in these has been running high, -averaging”—(he paused and glanced at the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span> -assayers’ report lying on the table beside him) -“averaging twelve per cent copper. If the contact -vein continues to run in its present direction, -the ore from the new stopes which we are opening -may be reached cheaply by means of winzes -from the three hundred foot level.” Loring -verified this carefully from the foreman’s report, -then nodded to the stenographer to proceed. -“The cost of production has been reduced five -per cent in the last month. If the present favorable -prices for the coke continue, I hope to -reduce this still more. I enclose for the first time -a detailed statement of expense distributed per -department, made possible by the new system -of bookkeeping which has been adopted.” Here -he paused. “That is all for the present,” he said.</p> - -<p>Then he picked up the construction report -and with a frown reread it. “That is bad -work,” he murmured. “With all the men whom -Fitz had under him, he should have done better, -and accomplished more.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Reade!” he called to the stenographer -who had gone into the back room, “come back -here! I have something to add to that report.”</p> - -<p>The stenographer came in, and again took -his place before the typewriter.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Owing to the slowness of the work on the -exterior construction, I have found it necessary -to dispense with the services of Mr. Fitz.”</p> - -<p>Reade looked up in surprise. “Are you -going to ‘can’ him?”</p> - -<p>Stephen made no answer, but continued to -dictate: “I have secured the services of a very -good man, who until recently has been at the -head of that work in the Quentin Mining Company -and who, I think, will fill the position very -satisfactorily.” “That is all, Reade.”</p> - -<p>The stenographer left the room, whistling -softly. “He sure acts with precision,” murmured -Reade, as he closed the door. “When -Fitz answered back at mess the other night, I -knew he’d get into trouble. The Boss never -speaks twice, and now that the men understand -his ways, he don’t need to.”</p> - -<p>A short half-hour after Loring had finished -his letter the stage from the northward drew -up outside the office door, and a passenger -descended from it. Loring opened the window, -looked out, and recognized his old friend -McKay.</p> - -<p>“Prompt as usual!” thought Loring. “I did -not expect him until to-morrow or the day<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span> -after; but I like his coming so soon. Promptness -means efficiency.”</p> - -<p>Loring smiled when he heard McKay tell -the driver to charge the trip to the Company. -“Mac has not much to learn of business methods -in the west,” Loring chuckled, as he hastened -to resume his seat at the desk. A little later he -heard a thump, as McKay dropped his bag on -the porch, and then he heard him asking for -the manager. Some one directed the stranger -to the office, and Loring heard the creak of his -boots on the stairs.</p> - -<p>Stephen, for he had a streak of vanity -in his nature, lighted a cigar, and pretended -to be very busy over some papers. After a -moment he looked up, to find McKay staring -in such open-mouthed astonishment that it -seemed as if his teeth were in danger of falling -back down his throat.</p> - -<p>“Well, I’ll be damned!” he finally ejaculated. -“What are <em>you</em> doing here?”</p> - -<p>“I am the manager,” said Stephen in a -dignified manner. Then he could keep a sober -face no longer, and burst into a laugh, in which -McKay, though in a dazed and uncertain -manner, joined.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span></p> - -<p>Stephen jumped up from his chair and -shook hands with his old boss. McKay continued -to swing his arm up and down, as -though this grip were his one hold upon the -world of realities.</p> - -<p>“You! How on earth did it happen? You -must have been a heap wiser than I thought!” -exclaimed McKay.</p> - -<p>The only danger of being thought wise is -that one is tempted to prove it; but Stephen -safely avoided this danger.</p> - -<p>“Anyhow, Mac,” he answered, “here I am -and here I hope I’ll remain, and there is a lot -of work for you to do here. Things have been -allowed to deteriorate to such an extent that it -takes more time to rebuild than it must have -taken to construct the whole plant. Fortunately -we have the original plans designed by the -people who had opened the mine, and though -they are no key to what has been done, they -give a pretty good idea of what was meant to -be done.” As he spoke he pulled a roll of blue -prints out from the desk drawer, and drawing -up a chair beside him for McKay, he started -to outline the work.</p> - -<p>As he watched the unerring way in which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span> -McKay’s clumsily shaped finger followed the -designs, stopping at each questionable point -and rubbing back and forth over it with the -determined questioning of a hand competent -to remedy defects, Loring thanked heaven for -the fact that the Quentin Company, their rush -of early work over, had parted with such a -man. The very twitching of the corners of -McKay’s mustache, as he pored over the -papers, showed a personality teeming with success -and energy. After an hour of hard work -Stephen pushed back his chair from the desk -and rolled up the prints.</p> - -<p>“I’m afraid, Mac,” he said, “that you are -going to be very busy here. You see I know -how good a man you are. But I also realize -that after your journey you must eat, and that -you will want to see your quarters.”</p> - -<p>He called Reade into the room and introduced -him. “Take Mr. McKay and show him -where he is to live. Put him in that new shack -on the right-hand side of the road.” With a -sudden recollection of McKay’s treatment of -him on that first night at Quentin, Stephen -went on with a broad grin: “To-night I will -send you over some blankets. You can pay<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span> -for them out of your first month’s pay, and -to-morrow I will let you have an old straw -hat of mine.”</p> - -<p>McKay smiled sheepishly, as he stood twirling -his rusty black felt hat in his fingers. Accustomed -as he was to the sudden changes which -Arizona brings about in men’s fortunes, Loring’s -meteoric rise was too great a problem for -him to solve. He could not adjust himself to -the miraculous change which had been wrought -in the life of the man before him. He could -only stand speechless and gaze at the marvel, -and then drop his eyes again to the baggy -knees of his best trousers.</p> - -<p>Stephen took pity on him in his bewilderment -and interrupted his reflections: “If you can -start in to work after lunch, I will have Mr. -Fitz, the man who is leaving, show you what -little he has done. You had better take a microscope -to see it with.”</p> - -<p>McKay followed Reade out of the office, his -efficient, right-angled and non-complex mind -in a whirl.</p> - -<p>“<em>Steve Loring</em>, manager of the Kay mine! -I certainly will be damned. <em>Him</em> running all -this!” He gazed stupefied at the ordered confusion<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span> -of the busy camp before him. “<em>Steve -Loring!</em> Phew!”</p> - -<p>And all the time the man of whom McKay -was thinking with admiring envy sat before -his desk, his head sunk upon his folded arms -in an attitude of profound dejection.</p> - -<p>To McKay, Loring seemed to have reached -the highest level of the up grade in being the -manager of a successful mine. What more -could any man wish? But to Loring all that -he had achieved was as nothing.</p> - -<p>The sight of McKay had brought back with -photographic vividness all the familiar things -and scenes of the old days at Quentin,—the -smelter, the dip in the hills, the hoist, “<i lang="es">Muy -Bueno</i>,” and then, in spite of himself, above -them all rose the face of Jean Cameron, Jean -as she had looked bending over his cot in the -hospital with the sheaf of flowers across her -arm, Jean smiling at him as she passed the -hoist, Jean stretching out her hand to him on -that never-to-be-forgotten ride through the soft -Arizona night.</p> - -<p>With a sudden pang he realized that all success -would be as dust and ashes unless he could -bring it to her and say: “Whatever I have won,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span> -it was all for you. My only pride is that whether -you ever know it or not, I have at last justified -your faith in me. Oh, Jean,” he murmured, -“it is not success or power or money that I want. -It is you, dear, you, you, you!”</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV</h2> - -<p>At four o’clock that afternoon, since it -was Saturday, the men were paid off -for the week. No pay day will ever be -satisfactory to the recipients until that happy -state of affairs is reached when each man -himself decides on the amount which is due -him. Even then there will be some who will -leave the pay-window with the discontented -feeling that they have cheated themselves.</p> - -<p>The bookkeeper, from his grated window, -gave out the pay checks to the line of Mexican -laborers who, displaying their brass number -tags, passed before him. He kept up a running -fire of argument. Over and over he was -obliged to explain the amounts of the checks.</p> - -<p>“The mess bill comes out of you.”</p> - -<p>“You had twenty dollars’ worth of coupons -at the store.”</p> - -<p>“No, you only worked five days this week.”</p> - -<p>“Hospital fee is twenty-five cents.”</p> - -<p>These were fair samples of the innumerable<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span> -arguments which he was compelled to go -through with every week. And in spite of all -explanations, the poor miners would walk -away from the window, looking with dejected, -unbelieving eyes at the small figures of their -checks. Men of this class can never realize -that if out of wages of ninety dollars a month -they spend seventy-five for food and store coupons, -the balance due to them is not ninety -dollars, but fifteen.</p> - -<p>As usual on pay day afternoon, in the road -before the office, little groups of men were -arguing excitedly among themselves, discussing -the manner in which they were “cheated.” -The dejected droop of their shoulders was accentuated -by the quick, jerky movements of -their arms as they gesticulated.</p> - -<p>Knowlton, the deputy sheriff, who was assigned -to Kay, sat on the steps before the office -door. He was rolling a cigarette, seemingly -unconscious of the noisy crowd. But pay day -was always likely to cause trouble, and he was -prepared for it.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 440px;" id="illus4"> -<img src="images/illus4.jpg" width="440" height="650" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">“No one quite dared to lead an attack upon Knowlton, who -stood his ground beside the body.” <a href="#Page_241"><i>Page 241</i></a></p> -</div> - -<p>The group of excited men augmented fast, -as little knots of miners were paid off, and -found awaiting them a willing audience of their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span> -grievances. A word will fire a crowd of this -kind as quickly as a fuse will set off a charge -of giant powder.</p> - -<p>Knowlton watched them closely, out of the -corner of his eye. He saw one of the leaders -in the discussion stoop down and pick up a -large rock.</p> - -<p>“Hey, Rigas! Drop that, quick!” he -shouted.</p> - -<p>For answer the rock crashed through the -glass of the office window.</p> - -<p>Knowlton waded into the midst of the crowd, -and seized Rigas by the collar, almost hurling -him off his feet. His rough tactics generally -overawed his prisoners, but Rigas had been -drinking, and fought. The crowd began to -close in.</p> - -<p>Knowlton dropped his hand to the point -where the suspenders joined his belt and -whipped out his “automatic.” Raising it -in the air, he swung it down with all his -strength upon Rigas’s head. There was a -stunning report, and the miner lay upon the -ground, with a hole two inches wide through -his forehead. The crowd, muttering angry -curses, drew back. No one quite dared to lead<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span> -an attack upon Knowlton, who stood his ground -beside the body, his still smoking gun in his -hand. The camp doctor came up on the run, -having heard the sound of the report. Kneeling -beside the body, he gave short and incisive -directions.</p> - -<p>“Valrigo, Peres, Gonzales, and Escallerra; -you four carry him over to the hospital!”</p> - -<p>The four men whom he had designated bent -over and clumsily raised the inanimate body.</p> - -<p>“No, no,” said the doctor, “don’t let his -head hang back. Here, Valencella! Come -and hold up his head. That is right. Now -slowly with him, boys; easy, don’t jolt him!”</p> - -<p>The doctor walked beside the bearers, his -hand on Rigas’s heart, which for a wonder was -still beating. Behind them fell in a sullen, -straggling, pushing procession of the other men, -watching the blood drip from Rigas’s head.</p> - -<p>Then Knowlton turned, and walked slowly -into the office. As he entered, the volume of -curses changed from a mutter to a roar. He -found Loring on his knees, locking the combination -of the safe.</p> - -<p>“Well, Mr. Loring, I’ve done it now. I’ve -killed Rigas. These damned automatics! You<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span> -can beat a man over the head for a week with -a Colt without its going off.”</p> - -<p>“Too bad!” said Stephen calmly, rising from -his knees. “But the character of Rigas was not -such that he will be a great loss to the world. -He was always causing some sort of mischief.”</p> - -<p>“It ain’t Rigas that I am worrying about,” -said the deputy. “It’s the rest of them.”</p> - -<p>“How long can you hold them in check?” -asked Stephen.</p> - -<p>“If they were sober, I could hold them until -hell froze, but they have just been paid off, -and by night they will all be drunk. Then there -will be trouble. It has been brewin’ for a week. -Some agitator chap has been talking it up to -them about the way the Company was stealing -from them. I don’t jest know what we had -better do,” he concluded, while he fingered -his gun nervously, and looked to Loring for -guidance.</p> - -<p>“Rigas is dead, you said?” asked Stephen.</p> - -<p>“Well, not exactly. He might as well be, -though. A forty-five calibre hole through your -head ain’t healthy. If he ain’t dead now, he -won’t live more than a few hours. And when -he does die—!” Knowlton broke off gloomily.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span></p> - -<p>“What are you going to do about it, Mr. -Loring?”</p> - -<p>“We can only wait,” answered Loring. -“We must not let them see that we are anxious.”</p> - -<p>“Ain’t you going to do <em>nothing</em>?” Knowlton -looked at Loring in perfect amazement.</p> - -<p>Stephen smiled, and shook his head. “No, -I am going to supper. I would advise you to -eat at the mess to-night, instead of at your shack. -I am afraid that at present you are not exactly -popular.”</p> - -<p>He walked off towards the eating-house, -while Knowlton stood looking after him blankly.</p> - -<p>“He don’t realize that in about three hours -after those men get to drinking, the Kay mine -won’t exist. If we had a real man in charge -here, we might do something about it. He -thinks, I suppose, that because the men like -him there won’t be trouble. Hell! and I used -to think he had sense!” Knowlton almost -snorted in his rage.</p> - -<p>At supper every man was keyed to a high -pitch of excitement. There were only about -twenty white men in camp, and though they -were well armed, the Mexicans outnumbered -them more than fifteen to one. Stephen alone<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span> -refrained from joining in the flurry of question -and conjecture which whirled about the table. -Although he seemed unmoved, a close observer -would have noticed that he gripped his knife -and fork almost as if they had been weapons. -Wah slid his plate of soup before him, at the -same time patting him on the shoulder with -affectionate interest.</p> - -<p>“Me bludder like one owl,” he said.</p> - -<p>“Hey, Wah, this soup is rotten!” called a -young fellow from the end of the table.</p> - -<p>“Oh, lubbly, lubbly soup!” chanted Wah. -“Lubbly, me bludder, lubbly.”</p> - -<p>“I’m not your bludder, Wah,” answered the -man politely. “I would rather have an ape for -a brother than you.”</p> - -<p>“You me bludder, allee samee, allee samee.” -Saying which, Wah disappeared into the kitchen, -only to stick his head a moment later through -the connecting window, and call: “Oh, you -pig-faced Swede, Oh, you pig-faced Swede! La, -la, boom, boom!”</p> - -<p>But even Wah was unable to break the tension -that surrounded the supper. As the men -were lighting their pipes at the close of the meal, -from the gulch behind the camp where were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span> -the saloons, came the sound of a fusillade of -shots and a burst of shrill yelling.</p> - -<p>“The game is on,” thought Loring.</p> - -<p>As the noise outside became louder, Stephen -said to the men: “I want all you fellows to -get your guns and go over into the office to -guard the safe. Go as quietly as you can so -as not to stir things up. Keep quiet in there -and don’t shoot unless you are compelled to. -We have just issued some new stock, and if -there is news of any fighting here the value will -go all to pieces. We must just wait, and keep -quiet. Remember a fight means almost ruin, -and we have got to avoid it.”</p> - -<p>Knowlton looked quickly over to McKay, -and nodded. Both were experienced men, -and they knew that now was no time to think -of stock values, but of actually saving the mine, -and the lives of the white men there. They -knew that serious trouble was intended, as -since the shooting, every outlet of the camp had -been guarded by Mexicans. They knew that -the only chance, not for avoiding a fight, but -for avoiding a massacre, lay in an immediate -attack on the Mexicans, before they were completely -out of hand. And Loring was thinking<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span> -of stock values! Still, they remembered that -he was inexperienced, and they set down to -indecision what seemed like criminal folly. -As for McKay, he had known Loring to fall -once before, and he was not hopeful for the -outcome.</p> - -<p>“Knowlton,” continued Loring, “you had -better stay here with me. It won’t do for the -miners to think that you are hidden.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I won’t be,” exclaimed Knowlton -decisively. “There is only one thing in this -world that I am afraid of, and that is a fool!”</p> - -<p>The men hurried to their tents to procure -their firearms. From the window of the mess -Stephen watched them, as one by one they -returned and slipped into the darkened office. -Then he stepped out on the porch, and seated -himself beneath the full glare of the hanging -electric light. Knowlton, with a dogged expression -on his face, seated himself on the steps. -Another man came and joined them. It was -McKay.</p> - -<p>“Let me stay here with you, Steve,” he said -gruffly.</p> - -<p>“Thank you!” replied Stephen. Then he -relapsed into silence.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span></p> - -<p>Sitting with his watch beside him on the arm -of the chair, and smoking furiously, his eye -traveled to Knowlton, and dwelt on the brown -oiled butt of the latter’s “automatic,” an odd-shaped -lump against the white of his shirt.</p> - -<p>“That was the first time I ever killed a man -by accident,” murmured Knowlton, half to -himself. “The Doc said after supper that -Rigas might possibly live another hour.”</p> - -<p>“An hour, did you say?” asked Loring. -Then again he sat in silence, staring intently -at his watch.</p> - -<p>“Quarter past eight. He has lived more -than an hour since supper.”</p> - -<p>From the valley, seven miles away, came -softly the whistle of the evening train. The -noise in camp was continually increasing in -volume. Groups of miners went by the mess -shouting, singing, and whooping derisively. -Every now and then the babel of voices was -punctuated by shots fired in rapid succession -as some one emptied his gun in the air.</p> - -<p>By the hospital a silent group was waiting, -waiting for Rigas to die.</p> - -<p>The men on the porch watched that sinister -mass with apprehension. The effect was far<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span> -more suggestive than that of the noisier portion -of the camp.</p> - -<p>Suddenly the mass of men by the hospital -stirred, heaved, and moved. From a hundred -throats came a dull roar.</p> - -<p>“Rigas is dead,” said Loring, shutting his -watch with a snap.</p> - -<p>The crowd of men by the hospital began to -roll towards the mess. As a huge swell rolls in -from the sea, so the black mass, swaying, rising, -falling, swept on. As it drew nearer, the white -of the men’s faces stood out in the glare of the -electric lights even as the foam upon that -wave.</p> - -<p>“Put out the porch lights!” yelled Knowlton.</p> - -<p>“I am manager here, and they stay lit,” -shouted Loring back to him.</p> - -<p>Even as the surf curls before breaking and -sweeping up the beach, so the wave of men -seemed to rise and draw itself together, before -surging up the steps.</p> - -<p>Stephen had stepped forward to the edge of -the steps in front of Knowlton. He raised his -fist for silence, and such was the compelling -force in his eyes that for a moment he was -obeyed. But as he started to speak, a great<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></span> -hiss arose from the crowd, like the sound of -escaping steam from some giant locomotive. -Loring gripped the railing of the porch hard, -and again shouted something.</p> - -<p>“God, he’s crazy!” yelled Knowlton to -McKay. “He is going to try and argue.” -Knowlton’s hand lay tightly on the gun in his -belt.</p> - -<p>“Steve has lost his head again,” thought -McKay bitterly. “I might have known that -he didn’t have the stuff in him.”</p> - -<p>A bottle whizzed by Loring’s ear, breaking -with a crash against the wall behind him. For -an instant the sound of breaking glass caught -the attention of the crowd.</p> - -<p>“You want the money in the safe?” shouted -Loring.</p> - -<p>“<i lang="es">Sí</i>, <i lang="es">sí</i>, yes, <i lang="es">sí</i>, yes, <i lang="es">sí</i>!” roared the crowd, in -a mixture of two languages.</p> - -<p>The sound lulled for a second. Stephen -waved his keys in the air. “You shall have it.”</p> - -<p>The shouting was wilder than before, and -echoed from end to end of the camp.</p> - -<p>“Coward!” moaned McKay, sickened by -such an exhibition. Some one in the crowd -fired at Loring, luckily with drunken aim.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span> -The bullet kicked up the dust at the foot of -the steps. Knowlton jumped to his feet, and -leveled his gun at the crowd.</p> - -<p>“Sit down!” roared Stephen. Not knowing -why he did so, Knowlton lowered his gun and -sank again into his chair.</p> - -<p>“Do you want Knowlton?” shouted Loring, -pointing to the deputy beside him. As he spoke, -he glanced at his watch, which lay in his hand. -His face was reeking with sweat.</p> - -<p>“Do you want Knowlton?” he shouted -again.</p> - -<p>The howl that went up from the mob was as -if from the throats of blood-hungry beasts.</p> - -<p>Knowlton’s face was white; but his eyes -showed their scorn of Loring. He looked at -him in contempt, and looking, to his surprise, -saw the tense lines of his face light with the gleam -of victory.</p> - -<p>“You want Knowlton?” he shouted for the -last time. “Then come and take him!”</p> - -<p>As the mob surged up the steps, a body of -horsemen charged them fiercely from behind. -Right and left galloped the riders, beating the -mob over the heads with their Winchesters, -or cutting them with their quirts, riding down<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span> -men beneath the weight of their horses. The -mob scattered and fled in every direction. The -leader of the horsemen swung out of the saddle -in front of the steps, and Winchester in hand, -walked up to Loring.</p> - -<p>“Are you Mr. Loring?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” answered Stephen.</p> - -<p>“Well, it seems as if we were just in time—not -much too early, are we? We just got your -telegram in Dominion in time to raise a big -posse, and pack them onto the evening train. -It was about the liveliest job that I ever did, -and I reckon it is one of the best,” said the -sheriff, surveying the scene with satisfaction. -“How did the trouble start anyhow?” he -asked.</p> - -<p>Stephen explained rapidly. At the conclusion, -the sheriff turned to Knowlton: “Killed him -by accident, eh? Too bad you didn’t have -the pleasure of meaning to. Now I guess we’d -better clean up the camp a bit, hadn’t we, Mr. -Loring?”</p> - -<p>Stephen agreed, and the sheriff sent his -deputies in groups of twos and threes, to raid -the tents of the Mexicans, and gather in their -arms.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span></p> - -<p>Knowlton approached Loring in a stupefied -manner.</p> - -<p>“When could you have telegraphed?” he -asked. “They have been guarding the roads -ever since the shooting.”</p> - -<p>Stephen smiled. “When you jumped into -that crowd, Knowlton, I sent Reade out through -the back window of the office to send a telegram -for help, and to get horses for them ready -at the station camp.”</p> - -<p>A light broke over McKay’s face. Walking -up to Loring, he laid his hand on his shoulder.</p> - -<p>“By God, Steve, I am proud of you!” he -said. Then turning to the arc light which hung -from the ceiling of the porch, he addressed it -softly: “And <em>that’s</em> the man we fired!”</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI</h2> - -<p>In the middle of the following September, -Radlett arrived in Tucson from the East. -He was on his way to pay his first visit to -his property in Kay, since Stephen had taken -charge. As he signed his name on the hotel -register, his eye was caught by the names of the -arrivals of the day before.</p> - -<p>“Donald Cameron.”</p> - -<p>“Miss Cameron.”</p> - -<p>A flush came to his cheeks and a light to his -eyes as he looked steadily at the page. Strange -what power a written word may have to stir -a man to the depths of his being! As Radlett -read the names, he felt the years slip away from -him. Five, six years was it since that summer -at Bar Harbor when he and Jean Cameron had -climbed together about the cliffs of the spouting -horn or, staff in hand, had explored Duck -Brook or floated idly in his canoe around the -islands in the harbor? Like Loring he had -dreamed his dream of what might be. By the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span> -end of the summer he knew it was only a dream -of what might have been. He carried away -with him an ideal, an aching heart, and a knot -of ribbon of the Cameron plaid. But he was -a man of too much force and energy to spend -his life in bewailing the past. He had shut the -knot of ribbon in a secret drawer, set the ideal -in a shrine, and flung his heart into business -with such success that to-day, while he was still -a young man, he was already a power to be -reckoned with in the financial world, while a -golden career opened ahead of him.</p> - -<p>A man so loyal in his friendship could not be -other than loyal in his love; but he had put the -possibility of winning Jean Cameron definitely -out of his mind, and he would have sworn that -the years had reduced the fever of his feeling -to a genial tranquillity of friendship, when now -at the very sight of her name on a hotel register, -all his philosophy was put to flight and he was -conscious only of a burning desire to see her -once more.</p> - -<p>Being a man of action, he wasted no time -on reminiscence; but inquired in quick incisive -terms whether Mr. Cameron and his daughter -were still at the hotel. Learning that they were,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</a></span> -he sent up his card. Then he lighted a cigarette -and walked the floor of the lobby, smoking nervously -till the bell-boy returned to say that -Mr. Cameron would be glad to receive him in -his private sitting-room. Before following the -boy, Radlett stopped at the desk to arrange for -his room and get his key.</p> - -<p>“How good a room do you wish, sir, and -how long will you stay?”</p> - -<p>“The best you have, and as long as I choose,” -Radlett answered with characteristic brevity. -A moment later he stood before the door of the -Camerons’ sitting-room, which opened at his -knock to reveal Mr. Cameron’s bristling red -head in the foreground, and in the background -a figure in a traveling dress of gray cloth, with -a hat to match and a knot of plaided ribbon -under the brim.</p> - -<p>At sight of Radlett, Jean rose, smiling, but -with a slight consciousness in her manner, a -consciousness resulting from the remembrance -of a painful scene, the hope that the man before -her had quite forgiven and the slighter -hope, a mere faint ashamed shadow of a hope, -that he had not quite forgotten.</p> - -<p>Her mind must have been quickly set at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[257]</a></span> -rest on that point, for such a rush of feeling -swept over Radlett that he could scarcely make -his greetings intelligible. Mr. Cameron gave -him a firm grip, and Jean held out a gray gloved -hand which Radlett clasped tremulously. Mr. -Cameron looked at the man and girl as they -stood talking together, and the longer he looked -the better he liked the combination.</p> - -<p>“There would be a son-in-law to be proud -of,” he thought, naturally enough perhaps considering -him in that relation first. “Baird Radlett -has everything that a girl could ask,—a -hard head, a long purse, a free hand and an -endless stock of common sense. And then, if -I had him to help me, what a property I could -build up! He used to seem devoted to Jean. -But she could not have refused him—no, and -by heaven she should not.” (Mr. Cameron -liked to keep up even to himself the illusion that -he was a tyrannical parent whose will was law.) -“Rather different this man from Loring! Jean -must see that. If she does not, she must be -made to see it. I was afraid at one time that -she might be foolish enough to fall in love with -Loring; but I took it in time—I took it in -time. Yet she is too efficient not to make some<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[258]</a></span> -one big mistake in her life. We Camerons all -do it sooner or later. If it is not one thing it is -another—misdirected energy, I suppose—” -Then aloud, in answer to a question from Radlett -as to how he happened to be in that part of -the world: “Why, about a year and a half ago -I became interested in a mine in Arizona which -was not being run properly, and so for the -present I am giving up my time to managing it -myself.”</p> - -<p>“And have you too become a mining engineer?” -Radlett asked of Jean.</p> - -<p>“Not quite,” she laughed.</p> - -<p>“Jean came rather near it at first,” added -her father; “but I think that now she is half -tired of the life out here. It has not the charm -for her that it had at first.”</p> - -<p>“I should think not!” exclaimed Radlett -emphatically. “Do you mean that you have -spent a whole year out in the hills here?” he -asked Jean.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” she answered. “This trip marks the -first time that I have been back to the East -since last fall; but I have not yet become such -a savage that I can dispense with afternoon -tea. I hope you will join us,” she added.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[259]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Yes, with thanks,” Radlett answered. Up -to this moment he had never found any use for -Tucson. Now he discovered that it existed to -hold a tea-table and Jean Cameron.</p> - -<p>“What brings you to Tucson, Baird?” she -asked, while the waiter laid the cloth.</p> - -<p>“I am in the mining business myself, in a -small way,” he rejoined. “Last year I bought -a property in Pinal County on speculation. I -am going up to visit it now for the first time. -I do not really need to go. In fact I shall probably -do more harm than good. I have a manager -up there who has accomplished wonders. He -has made the mine pay in six months after he -took control. As far as I can learn, he has done -practically everything himself, from mining the -ore to putting it on the cars. I bought the mine -at a big risk, and now it is about the most satisfactory -investment that I own.”</p> - -<p>“I wish that I had such a man to put in -charge of Quentin. When I am not there the -whole plant seems to go to pieces.”</p> - -<p>“Quentin!” exclaimed Radlett in surprise. -“Is that the name of your property?”</p> - -<p>“It is,” said Mr. Cameron. “Why? Had -you ever heard of it?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[260]</a></span></p> - -<p>Radlett opened his lips to speak; but the -arrival of the tea turned the subject of conversation -for the moment. As he watched Jean pouring -the tea all thoughts of mines and business -vanished from Radlett’s mind. He wondered -how he had ever existed throughout the years -in which he had not seen her.</p> - -<p>While Jean Cameron talked to Radlett, she -glanced at him over her teacup with that interest -which a girl naturally bestows upon a -man who might have been a part of her life -had she so willed it. In the past year the standards -by which she judged men had changed -considerably. She had much more regard for -the qualities of steadiness and determination -which Baird possessed than she had felt at the -time when she refused him. From her widened -experiences she had learned that ability without -reliability was useless. Perhaps, too, now -that disappointment in her new surroundings -had set in, she looked back with more tenderness -upon those who had peopled her life in the -East.</p> - -<p>The talk ranged over many scenes and people -familiar to them all, then gradually drifted -to the plans of each for the future. Baird’s<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[261]</a></span> -mind had been working fast. Seeing Jean for -an hour had made him wish to see her for many -more hours, and by the time that he had finished -his second cup of tea, he had evolved a plan by -which he hoped to achieve that end. If he -could persuade Mr. Cameron, when on his way -to Quentin, to stop over at Kay, and to make -an expert report on the property, it would -enable him to have at least a week more with -Jean. Turning to Mr. Cameron, he approached -him on the subject.</p> - -<p>“I wish very much that I could persuade you -to stop over and examine my property for me. -If you had the time I should greatly value your -professional opinion.”</p> - -<p>“Where is your mine situated?”</p> - -<p>“At Kay,” answered Radlett. “I think it is -on the direct route to Quentin.”</p> - -<p>“So you are the man who bought that property. -I had not heard who owned it.”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said Baird. “Now do you think that -you could possibly spare four or fives days to -investigate the place for me?”</p> - -<p>“I do not know whether I can possibly spare -the time,” reflected Mr. Cameron, half aloud. -If it had been any man besides Radlett, Mr.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[262]</a></span> -Cameron would have refused at once, as he -had for some time given up all such work. But -he was glad to do a favor to Baird, and also he -felt that he would like to have him and Jean -thrown together for a while. “Still I can get -in touch with Quentin, and if they need me -there I can get there at short notice. Yes, I -think that I can take the time. I shall be interested -to see how the mine is doing with this -wonderful new manager of yours. Frankly, it -never used to be much good.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t be discouraging, Father!” said Jean. -“You might at least be an optimist until you -have seen Baird’s mine.”</p> - -<p>“If your father should be a pessimist after -seeing it, I should certainly give up the mine, -I have such respect for his judgment.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Cameron expanded under the compliment. -“By the way, did you not have a big -riot or something up there this spring? I read -about it, I think, in the Eastern papers. They -said that there had been a race riot in Kay -which, but for the coolness and nerve of the manager, -would have been a desperate outbreak.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, there was a desperate state of affairs,” -answered Radlett, and he proceeded to give an<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[263]</a></span> -account of the riot, the details of which he had -learned through a postscript added by Reade -to one of Loring’s reports. When he reached -the part of the story which told how the manager -had held the mob at bay until the arrival of the -deputies, both Jean and her father exclaimed -with approval. Jean’s eyes were shining with -the enthusiasm which she always felt for a -brave act well carried out.</p> - -<p>“And,” said Radlett in conclusion, “since -then there has not been a hint of trouble in the -camp. In fact a labor agitator came up there -last month, and the men themselves ran him -out of camp.”</p> - -<p>“You certainly have a wonderful man there,” -said Mr. Cameron. “If I had chanced upon -him first, you would never have had him. If -there is one thing on which I pride myself, it is -my power to read character at first sight. I -should have snapped up a man like that in no -time. What is his name?”</p> - -<p>“His name,” said Radlett, “is Stephen Loring.” -He watched Mr. Cameron closely as he -uttered the name, and was amused to see the -expression of blank dismay and astonishment -upon that gentleman’s face.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[264]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Loring! Stephen Loring!” cried Mr. -Cameron, completely taken aback.</p> - -<p>“Stephen Loring,” repeated Radlett doggedly.</p> - -<p>“Why, we dismissed him from Quentin -for—”</p> - -<p>“Father, don’t!” ejaculated Jean suddenly. -Her cheeks burned, while her eyes pleaded -with her father to spare Loring’s past. Radlett -looked at her with a quick glance of -appreciation.</p> - -<p>“It is all right, Jean,” he said. “Loring told -me all about it himself.”</p> - -<p>“He told you,” queried Mr. Cameron incredulously, -“about the accident, about his -drunkenness and all; and after that you put -him in charge of the mine? How could you?”</p> - -<p>“I believed in him,” replied Radlett quietly, -“and he has justified my belief. I have known -him all my life, and I trust and respect him.”</p> - -<p>“You say that he has made good with you?” -inquired Mr. Cameron sharply.</p> - -<p>“He has.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Cameron was a man of honest enthusiasms, -but of equally honest hatreds. When -man had once failed him, he was loath to -believe that there could be good in him.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[265]</a></span></p> - -<p>“I hope you will find that he keeps it up,” -was all that he said. He did not say it with -complimentary conviction, either.</p> - -<p>“He will,” Radlett answered shortly.</p> - -<p>Jean was moved by Baird’s faithful defense -of his friend.</p> - -<p>“It is characteristic of you to stand by him as -you have done,” she said, “and if ever a man -needed a good friend, it was Mr. Loring.”</p> - -<p>“You knew him well?” asked Radlett, with -surprise. From what Loring had told him of -his position in camp, he had not imagined that -he would know Miss Cameron personally at all.</p> - -<p>“He saved my life,” answered Jean. Her -voice was soft, but there was a hint of challenge -in the glance that she sent toward her father.</p> - -<p>“Saved your life!” ejaculated Radlett. “He -never said anything to me about that. Just -like him! He told me only of his failures.”</p> - -<p>“You have known him all your life. What -was he?” asked Mr. Cameron. “Another case -of a worthless fellow whom every one liked?”</p> - -<p>“He never was worthless,” said Baird. “Only -until now he never showed what he was worth, -and never was there a man whom his friends -loved so much, to whom they forgave so much,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[266]</a></span> -and from whom they continued to hope so -much.”</p> - -<p>“He took a peculiar way of showing his -worth with me,” remarked Mr. Cameron. -“Really now, Radlett, killing men by your -carelessness is a pretty serious thing. And -from what I can gather, I judge that for the -past few years his life has been far from creditable; -that he has been getting into trouble of -some sort all the time. His record shows that -he has been permanently inefficient and frequently -drunk.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, it is all true,” answered Baird, “but -in all those years he was being hammered and -forged, and in the end the experience has -strengthened him. The things that he has gone -through, even the wrong things which he has -done, all have molded his character, and for -the better. It was a big risk, a big chance, -but by it the metal in him has been turned to -steel.”</p> - -<p>“Is not that rather an expensive process by -which to obtain a product like Loring?” asked -Mr. Cameron dryly.</p> - -<p>“I hope very much that when you see what -Loring has done at Kay, you will change your<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[267]</a></span> -mind,” said Radlett. “I understand of course -what you must feel about him; but I think -that he has wiped his slate clean. If two lives -were lost through him at Quentin, by preventing -a fight at Kay he has saved twenty.”</p> - -<p>“Not to mention saving my life,” added Jean, -rising.</p> - -<p>“That alone should extenuate everything,” -said Radlett earnestly.</p> - -<p>He looked after Jean as she left the room to -dress for dinner, admiring her proud, erect -carriage, and devoutly thankful that he should -have several days in which to be with her.</p> - -<p>When she had gone, the two men resumed -their seats, and proceeded to discuss the plans -and business arrangements for Mr. Cameron’s -prospective visit to Kay. But even while he -was talking, Mr. Cameron’s decision in regard -to the visit was wavering, and later, as he went -upstairs, he shook his head and said to himself: -“No, I can’t do it. Under the circumstances -that visit is an impossibility.”</p> - -<p>That night, when they had come upstairs -from dinner, he went to Jean’s door and -knocked.</p> - -<p>“Jean,” he called.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[268]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Yes, Father.”</p> - -<p>“Can you come into my sitting-room? I -want to talk with you.”</p> - -<p>They returned to his sitting-room, and Jean -seated herself while her father walked slowly -up and down the room.</p> - -<p>“I have been thinking about our going with -Baird up to his mine. I told him that we would -go; but if this fellow Loring is the manager -there, I do not think that we can. I shall tell -Baird that we find it impossible.”</p> - -<p>“Why?” asked Jean, although she well knew -the reason.</p> - -<p>“Why?” echoed her father irritably. “Do -you remember the insulting letter which he -wrote to me after my offer of help to him at -Dominion? Do you think it would be a pleasure -to meet him again with that letter in mind?”</p> - -<p>“You never told me what you wrote in your -letter to him,” replied Jean, parrying the -question.</p> - -<p>“I offered him work in the north because -I said we were under obligation to him for saving—That -is, to repay my debt to him.”</p> - -<p>“I suppose that you made no conditions?”</p> - -<p>“Only that he should never cross our path<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[269]</a></span> -again,” responded her father. “Of course I -felt bound to tell him what I thought of him.”</p> - -<p>“In other words,” exclaimed Jean with -spirit, “you insulted him, and now are angry -that he was gentleman enough to refuse your -offer. When he was practically starving, as -Baird told me he was, he refused to take advantage -of an unwilling obligation. Is that -why you do not want to go to Kay?” There -was pride in the quiver of her nostrils, and pity -in her eyes, as she spoke.</p> - -<p>Mr. Cameron, like many strong men, was at -a disadvantage in an argument with his daughter. -Her strength of will was as great as his, and -with it she combined an intuitive knowledge of -whither to direct her questions, as a good fencer -instinctively knows the weak points in his opponent’s -defense.</p> - -<p>“You are trying to put me in the wrong, -Jean,” said her father testily, “but the fact remains -that we cannot go.”</p> - -<p>“The fact remains, Father, that you owe it -to yourself to go, not only because you have -promised Baird” (here she scored a strong point, -for the keeping of his word was her father’s -great pride), “but because you owe it to Mr.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[270]</a></span> -Loring to atone for the wrong that you did -him.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Cameron was in a quandary. On the -one side was his desire not to see Loring again -or to have Jean meet him; on the other was -the fact that he had promised Radlett and that -he wished to have him and Jean thrown together. -With his usual bluntness he asked his -daughter: “Jean, have you thought much of -Loring since he left Quentin?”</p> - -<p>“A great deal, Father.”</p> - -<p>“Often?”</p> - -<p>“Very often.”</p> - -<p>“Damn me! I was afraid of it. But you -may as well understand now that I absolutely -forbid your thinking of him any more.”</p> - -<p>“Be careful, Father, that you do not add to -my real interest the fictitious one of defiance -which has always been strong in the Cameron -blood. What I have been thinking all these -months about Mr. Loring is that he is a man -to whom we are under deep obligation, and -one to whom you have been unjust.”</p> - -<p>“I thought,” said Mr. Cameron helplessly, -and foolishly allowing his attack to be changed -to defense, “that I had done everything possible<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[271]</a></span> -for Loring. I do not wish to be thought ungrateful -to any man; but that letter—”</p> - -<p>Jean was touched and coming over to her -father, put her arms around him saying: “Can’t -you see, Father dear, that the letter he sent to -you was the only one which a gentleman could -write under the circumstances.”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps so, perhaps,” answered Mr. Cameron. -“And anyhow,” he went on rather -weakly, “I have promised Baird, and Jean, I -want you to see more of him. He is, I think, of -all the men whom I know, the best and the -most trustworthy. He told me that some time -ago you refused to marry him.”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said Jean.</p> - -<p>“Have you ever changed at all? Do you not -like him better than you did? He is the man -of all others whom I should rather see you -marry.”</p> - -<p>“I always liked him and I like him better -than ever now,” replied Jean, with her usual -frankness. “Only it would take me at least a -week to fall in love with him,” she added -laughing, as she kissed her father and bade -him good night.</p> - -<p>That evening she sat up until it was late,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[272]</a></span> -thinking. She had begun to see life in the West -rather differently since her first rose-colored -impressions. She was beginning to realize the -facts that her father had quoted to her. The -shoddiness of that life had begun to make itself -felt. She had believed in Loring with all the -trust to which a reserved nature yields itself -when it becomes impetuous, and his complete -failure had been a deep shock to her. She had -not forgotten him, however, though, had she -analyzed her thoughts, she would have been -puzzled to know why he had not passed from -her memory. Now that he was to be brought -into her life again, her thought of him grew -deeper and more personal. She opened her -trunk and drew out of it her journal of the past -year. For an hour she sat reading over the pages, -and there were certain pages which she reread. -When she closed the book it was close to midnight. -She sat staring out of the window, -thinking, wondering. The light in her eyes -was like the harbor lights veiled by night mist -to the mariner homeward bound,—now flashing -clear and lambent, now dim, brilliant with -the seaward flash or soft in the afterglow.</p> - -<p>At length she rose as one tired of thinking;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[273]</a></span> -but as she brushed out the long waves of her -hair she hummed softly the old refrain:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“Young Frank is chief of Errington</div> -<div class="verse">And lord o’ Langly Dale—</div> -<div class="verse">His step is first in peaceful ha’</div> -<div class="verse">His sword in battle keen—</div> -<div class="verse">But aye she let the tears doon fa’</div> -<div class="verse">For Jock o’ Hazeldean.”</div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[274]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII</h2> - -<p>In the weeks which followed the settling -of the trouble in the camp, Kay flourished -and grew. Great trainloads of supplies -were daily dumped on the platform of the -railway station, to be checked off and sorted, -before the final haul up to camp. The old -rough road to the station had become hard -and smooth by the continual pounding of -the heavy, six-mule wagons. Under McKay’s -master direction, the framework bridges on -the route had been replaced by substantial -structures. Wherever a cañon or gulch opened, -sluice boxes had been buried beneath the road -surface, so that a heavy rain no longer meant -washouts and consequent stoppage of coke -and supplies. The coke teams struggled back -to the railroad almost as heavily laden with -matt, as on the upward trip they had been with -coke. Each day saw new framework houses -built, and new families settling their possessions. -Wagons were driven into camp laden with -battered stoves, broken chairs, a stray dog or<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[275]</a></span> -two, and in general the household belongings -of new settlers; for the growth of the “lilies of -the field” is as nothing compared with that -of a prosperous mining camp. Each day the -office was filled with men clamoring for -lumber: “Only a little, Boss! Just to put in -a flooring. We can get along with two boards -on the sides. Anything just so as we can get -settled.” And Loring sat behind his desk, -speaking with kindly but evasive words, telling -each that the Company longed to build him a -perfect palace, but that under the present conditions -he must wait.</p> - -<p>For fast as lumber was hauled into camp, -still faster came the need for it for mine timbering, -for storehouses, and for a thousand and one -necessities. The construction work had been -rushed to completion. The huge new ore cribs -were a triumph of McKay’s ingenuity, built by -a clever system of bracing from the unseasoned -lumber that had been at hand, and supporting -with perfect safety the enormous strain to which -they were subjected. The Company was rapidly -becoming the controlling factor in the copper -output of the district.</p> - -<p>It was the time for the arrival of the evening<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[276]</a></span> -mail and the office was full of men and tobacco -smoke. McKay had pre-empted the safe and -sat on the top of it, clanking his heels against -the sides. His sandy colored hair matched the -color of the pine boards of the wall against which -he was propped. The draughting tables carried -their load of men, as did each of the well-worn -chairs, and the three-legged stool. A babel -of voices prevailed. Every now and then Reade -opened the door from the back office, and poking -his head into the room with a disgusted -expression upon his face, called out: “Soft -pedal there, soft pedal! How in hell can a -man do any work with you fellows raising -such a racket?”</p> - -<p>Stephen, as usual sat at his roll-top desk in -the corner, his feet up on the slide, both hands -in his pockets, the while he rocked his pipe -gently up and down in his teeth. One of the -clerks was telling with becoming modesty of -his social triumphs in Phœnix at the “Elks” -ball. The audience listened with the listless -attention of those whose curiosity hangs heavy -on their hands.</p> - -<p>“I was the candy kid, all right,” remarked -the narrator.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[277]</a></span></p> - -<p>His fervid discourse was interrupted by a -drawl from some one in the background. “I -reckon that some time you must have drunk -copiouslike of the Hassayampeh River.”</p> - -<p>A machinery drummer who was in the office -cocked up his ears, thinking that perhaps behind -the allusion lay a doubtful story.</p> - -<p>“What’s that about the river?” he asked. -“I never heard of that.”</p> - -<p>“Why, they say,” answered the first speaker, -“that whoever drinks of the Hassayampeh -River can’t ever tell the truth again so long as -he lives.”</p> - -<p>“And also,” added McKay; “that no matter -where he drifts to, he is sure to wander back -again to the old territory; that he’ll die in -Arizona.”</p> - -<p>“How was that story ever started?” Loring -asked.</p> - -<p>“The valley of the Hassayampeh was one of -the first trails into the ore country,” answered -McKay, “and the lies that emanated from the -camps along that river was of such a fearful, -godless and prize package variety that they made -the old river famous. There was a fellow in -camp here only the other day was telling me<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[278]</a></span> -about prospectin’ down there in seventy-three. -He said all they had to eat was fried Gila -monster. I guess that was after he’d drunk the -water though,” finished McKay reflectively.</p> - -<p>“The territory sure has gone off since those -days,” said a cattleman who had ridden into -camp for his mail. “Only last year down near -Roosevelt I shot two Mexicans, and say, it -cost me a hundred dollars for negligence,” he -went on indignantly, “and the sons of guns -warn’t wurth more than twelve dollars and two -bits apiece.”</p> - -<p>“You are right about the way Arizona is -going to hell,” said the mine foreman. “I don’t -know as any of you fellows ever knowed ‘Teeth’ -Barker. Anyhow, next to what his father must -have been, he was the ugliest creature that ever -lived on this earth. All of his teeth just naturally -stuck out like the cowcatcher of an engine. -Well, in spite of that, he always was a good -friend of mine. Least he used to be.</p> - -<p>“About six months ago I was up to Jerome, -and they was telling about an accident there. -A man no one knowed at all was killed, -but a fellow said he had the ugliest tusks -he ever seed. I knew at once that must be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[279]</a></span> -Barker. They said they’d planted him up on -the knoll, and so,” continued the foreman sadly, -“and so, although it was a powerful hot day, -I struggled up to the knoll with a nice piece of -pine board, and a jack-knife, and I sort of -located ‘Teeth’ with a handsome monument -and an exaggerated epitaph.</p> - -<p>“I came down as hot as the devil, and steps -into a saloon to get a drink, when who should -walk up to me but ‘Teeth’ Barker himself!</p> - -<p>“‘You’re dead,’ said I.</p> - -<p>“‘Do I look like it?’ he asked. He got sort -of hot under the collar about it, too.</p> - -<p>“Well, the long and short of it all was that I -had gone and taken all that trouble with a -tombstone for a stranger.</p> - -<p>“‘The least that you can do, “Teeth” Barker,’ -said I, ‘is to come up and see that beautiful -monument I erected over you. It took as much -trouble to make as a year’s assessment work.’</p> - -<p>“Well, he didn’t see it that way. Said he -wouldn’t go up there if I was to pay him. And -that was after I had taken all that trouble! -Gratitude! There ain’t no such thing any -more in Arizona,” concluded the foreman.</p> - -<p>Story after story was put forth for the edification<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[280]</a></span> -of the crowd until the grating of wheels -outside told of the arrival of the stage. A moment -later heavy footsteps resounded on the -porch, and the burly stage-driver, with two great -mail-sacks slung over his shoulder, swung into -the office.</p> - -<p>“Evening, gents!” he called in answer to -the general salutation. He stepped over to -Stephen’s desk and threw down a little bunch of -envelopes. “Four telegrams,” he said.</p> - -<p>Loring rapidly slit open the envelopes, laying -the telegrams on one side, and after running -through the contents, began to sort the mail.</p> - -<p>“Any passengers?” he asked the driver.</p> - -<p>“Yes, six. Drummers mostly. They are -over there eating now. There was two men -and a lady; but they stopped to eat supper at -the station. They will be up later.”</p> - -<p>“It’s lucky Mrs. Brown built those new -sleeping quarters to her place; she’ll be running -a regular hotel here soon,” said the driver, -as he swung on his heel and tramped out to -unharness his horses.</p> - -<p>Stephen sorted the mail rapidly, and deftly -scaled the letters to the fortunate recipients.</p> - -<p>“That is all,” he said, as he tossed the last.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[281]</a></span> -Every one left the office with the exception of -McKay who, with a woebegone expression on -his face, lingered behind.</p> - -<p>“What is the matter?” asked Loring.</p> - -<p>“Nothing,” answered McKay gruffly.</p> - -<p>“Well, how is this?” said Stephen, taking -from his pocket a letter which was addressed in -large square characters to McKay. “You see -she did not forget you, after all.”</p> - -<p>McKay blushed to the roots of his hair, then -opened the letter with seeming nonchalance.</p> - -<p>“It seems to me that you have a pretty -steady correspondent there,” said Stephen, -while he straightened up his desk preparatory -to the evening’s work. “I have handed you -a letter like that every night this week.” McKay -colored even more, then stretched out his hand. -“Shake, Steve! I am going to get spliced. I -have been meaning to tell you before this.”</p> - -<p>Loring jumped up and pounded him on the -back.</p> - -<p>“You gay winner of hearts, who is she?”</p> - -<p>“Do you remember Jane Stevens, back at -Quentin? Well, it’s her.”</p> - -<p>Loring’s eyes twinkled. “How did you ever -get the nerve?” he asked.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[282]</a></span></p> - -<p>At the thought of his audacity, the perspiration -broke out on McKay’s forehead.</p> - -<p>“Well she had me plumb locoed. I remember -once a horse had me buffaloed the same way,” -he explained. “I was scared, scared blue, -Steve; but finally I got up my nerve and -thought I’d go and break my affections to her -gentle and polite like. So one day I rode over -to their place,—you know where it is was, just -south of the Dominion trail,—and I thought -I’d go to see her brother Charlie and fix -it up with him. When I reached their -shack she came to the door looking as neat -as a partridge and with a sort of smile hidden -somewhere in her face, and—and I’ll be -damned if I didn’t kiss her right then without -any formalities.”</p> - -<p>“That was the simplest solution of the problem, -wasn’t it?” laughed Stephen. “When are -you going to be married?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, soon, I guess; but I wish it could be -managed as simply as these Mexicans do. And -how about you, Steve?” continued McKay. -“You ain’t been took this way yourself, have -you? Not that woman you was telling me -about in Mexico.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[283]</a></span></p> - -<p>Loring shook his head. “Unfortunately she -was a married woman.”</p> - -<p>“I sort of thought,” went on McKay, “that -you and Miss Cameron was—”</p> - -<p>“Well, you thought wrongly,” interrupted -Loring sharply. “I never expect to see Miss -Cameron again.”</p> - -<p>There came a ripple of laughter from the doorway, -and looking up quickly he saw Jean and -her father walk into the office. Behind them -stood Baird Radlett.</p> - -<p>“What a hospitable form of welcome!” exclaimed -Miss Cameron, smiling at him frankly.</p> - -<p>For a moment Loring swayed in his chair, -then he rose stiffly, as a man in a trance. He -stared at Jean with an absorption that was -almost rude, as if there were nothing in the -universe beyond her. There lay a hint of -laughter in the gray depths of her eyes.</p> - -<p>“What is the matter?” asked Radlett. -“Are you surprised to see us? Didn’t you get -my letter?”</p> - -<p>“It is probably in to-night’s mail which -haven’t opened yet,” answered Loring, still -half dazed.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Cameron has consented to come and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[284]</a></span> -make a report on the property for me,” explained -Baird.</p> - -<p>Mr. Cameron came forward and held out -his hand. “Mr. Loring, I have heard of the -splendid work that you have done here. I want -to congratulate you.” This little speech was -a hard one for Mr. Cameron to make; but he -was a man who, when he had once made up -his mind to the right course, followed it to the -end.</p> - -<p>The expression of pride in Stephen’s face -turned to one of appreciation, and he shook -Mr. Cameron’s hand with a firm, grateful -pressure. But all the while he was looking -at Jean longingly, worshipingly, all unconscious -of the intensity of his gaze, as a man -who for days has been in the desert without -water looks upon the sudden spring. In all -the months that he had thought of her, dreamed -of her, she had never seemed to have the beauty, -the potential tenderness, which marked her -now when she stood before him, her look telling -him that she was proud of what her friend had -been and done.</p> - -<p>To Radlett, looking at them both, came a -sudden suspicion, and a sudden despair.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[285]</a></span></p> - -<p>Jean, at Loring’s request, seated herself at -his desk, in the big revolving chair, and while -playing absent-mindedly with the papers on -the desk, kept up a laughing discussion with -Baird.</p> - -<p>Loring, at the other side of the room, was -answering Mr. Cameron’s businesslike questions -as to the grade of the ore, the force, the -cost of production, accurately and fast, as -though almost every faculty in his body and -mind were not concentrated upon the girl who -seemed to be having such an interesting talk -with Radlett. Finishing his talk with Mr. -Cameron, Loring left the office to arrange for -sleeping quarters for the visitors. In a few -minutes he returned with the announcement -that all was ready, and led the way to the long, -low building next the mess, whose many rooms, -opening on a broad porch, served as accommodations -for strangers in camp.</p> - -<p>Loring walked beside Miss Cameron, doing -his best to talk unconcernedly of every-day -matters, but the hoarseness of his voice betrayed -him.</p> - -<p>“I am very sorry to have to offer you such -rough quarters,” he said to Jean, as they<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[286]</a></span> -reached the house, “but they are the best that -we have. In another month we hope to have -something more comfortable to give to our -guests.”</p> - -<p>“In another month, Stephen, you will have -an up-to-date city constructed here,” exclaimed -Radlett, with an almost reluctant enthusiasm.</p> - -<p>At the steps Stephen and Radlett said good-night -to the others, and walked slowly back to -Stephen’s quarters, which they were to share.</p> - -<p>Loring sat on the edge of his cot, and smoked -slowly while he watched Baird unpack his -valise, and with the method of an orderly -nature put everything away in the rough chest -of drawers, or on the black iron hooks which -protruded from the wall. Espying a tin of expensive -tobacco neatly packed amidst a circle -of collars, Stephen pounced upon it, and knocking -out the contents of his pipe, proceeded to -fill it with the new mixture. Radlett finished -his unpacking, and recovering the tobacco can -from Loring, filled his own pipe. Then he -tipped a chair back against the wall, and -sitting in it, regarded Loring for a moment -in silence.</p> - -<p>“Stephen,” he remarked after a few seconds,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[287]</a></span> -“you have done a good piece of work. I knew -that you would.”</p> - -<p>Loring’s irrelevant answer was to the effect -that the tobacco which he had stolen was good. -It was an odd characteristic of this man that -though his nature contained many streaks of -vanity, praise for work which he knew was good -embarrassed him. At length he began to appreciate -the ungraciousness of his response to -Radlett’s advances, and leaning forward, with -his elbows on his knees, he said: “You cannot -guess what it means to me, Baird, to have you -say things like that, to be patted on the back -and made to feel as if I had done something, -and that by a man who has succeeded in everything -to which he has turned his hand, who has -won all the big prizes of life.”</p> - -<p>Radlett drew back into the shadow where -the lamplight could not reveal the expression -of his face.</p> - -<p>“All the prizes in life?” he queried with -scornful emphasis. “No, not all by a damn -sight. You see, Stephen, I feel as if Fate had -stood over me with a deuced ironical smile, -and said: ‘You shall have your every wish -in life—except the one thing that you want<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[288]</a></span> -most of all—the one thing that would make -you happy.’”</p> - -<p>“Hm,” murmured Loring, shaking out the -embers from his pipe and gazing into the empty -bowl. “With any one else I should say that -meant a woman; but with you it could not -be.”</p> - -<p>“Why not with me as well as with any other -man?”</p> - -<p>“Because there is no woman alive who would -be fool enough to refuse you.”</p> - -<p>“Bless your heart, Stephen! It is only -your blind loyalty that makes you think me -irresistible.”</p> - -<p>“Do you mean that there really is a woman -so benighted? What is she thinking of?”</p> - -<p>“I imagine,” answered Radlett slowly, “that -you might change that ‘what’ to <em>whom</em>.”</p> - -<p>“You would have me believe that knowing -you, she prefers some one else?” asked Loring -incredulously. “Why, Baird, it is impossible.”</p> - -<p>“By no means. I think I know the man.”</p> - -<p>Loring’s blood boiled. “Who is the brute?” -he cried out. “Tell me and I will kill him, -break his neck, shoot him.”</p> - -<p>Baird smiled wryly, blew a cloud of smoke<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[289]</a></span> -toward the roof, and observed: “If I were you, -Stephen, I would do nothing rash. But come, -we have talked long enough of me and my -affairs. Let us talk now about you and yours! -Suppose, for instance, you tell me why you -turned the color of a meerschaum pipe when -Miss Cameron appeared in the doorway -to-night.”</p> - -<p>Loring started and looked quickly at Radlett. -“You noticed that, did you? Well, you have -quick eye and a gift for drawing conclusions, -but they may not always be right.”</p> - -<p>“Not always, no; but this time they are, -aren’t they? Be honest, Stephen, are you or -are you not in love with Jean Cameron?”</p> - -<p>“Excuse me, but that can not interest you -to know.”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps not, and perhaps it is a damned -impertinence to inquire, but after all an old -friendship gives some privileges.”</p> - -<p>“Of course it does!” exclaimed Stephen, -tilting down his chair. He walked across the -room to Radlett’s seat and stood behind him. -“See here, Baird. I did not want to speak of -this thing because I was afraid of breaking -down and making an ass of myself generally.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[290]</a></span> -You don’t know what it is to be placed as I am. -When you asked a girl to marry you, you had -something to offer her, whether she had the -sense to take it or not. You offered her a clean -life, a fortune honorably made, an untarnished -name, while I,—why even if there were the -remotest chance that Miss Cameron would -look at me, I should be a brute to ask her. The -more I cared for her, the less I could do it. So -you see, for me it must be ‘the desire of the -moth for the star.’ A man must abide by the -consequences of his acts; he must take his -medicine, and if mine is bitter, it may do me -all the more good only—only I cannot talk -about it. Good night!”</p> - -<p>Radlett did not answer; but long after -Stephen was asleep, or pretended to be, Baird -lay staring at the rafters. “To lay down his -life for his friend,” he said to himself. “That -would not be the hardest thing. To lay down -his love! I wonder if I am man enough to -do it.”</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[291]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII</h2> - -<p>During the week which the Camerons -spent in camp at Kay, it was amusing -to notice the change in the appearance -of the men at the mess. Dilapidated flannel -shirts and khaki trousers the worse for wear -had been supplanted at supper time by self-conscious -black suits and very white ties. The -camp barber made enough money to tide him -over many months.</p> - -<p>Mr. Cameron had spent a very busy week, -examining with Loring all the details of the -work, and daily his respect had grown for the -man whom he had so despised. The evening -before the last which she was to spend in Kay, -Jean announced her intention of visiting the -“workings” with her father when he should go -the next day. Loring said that it was not safe; -her father protested; Radlett argued with her, and -as the net result of all she appeared the following -morning with her determination unchanged.</p> - -<p>The porch of the mess a few minutes before<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[292]</a></span> -breakfast time was always crowded. Men on -their way back from the night shift made a -practise of stopping to exchange a few words. -It was a quieter gathering than in the evening, -for ahead lay the prospect of a long day’s work. -Yet an air of comfort always prevailed. The -five minutes before breakfast made a precious -interval in which to loaf, a delightful time when -one could stretch himself against the wall and -bask in the sunlight.</p> - -<p>Jean and her father came up to the veranda -with a friendly “good morning” to those who -were gathered there. A few of the loiterers -talked respectfully to Mr. Cameron, whose -fame as a mining expert was a wide one, and -Jean quickly became the center of a large -group of men, eager to point out to her the different -mountains, the Grahams in the distance or -the long sharp ridges of the neighboring range. -They called her attention to the mist hanging -low in the valley, curling softly in the farthest -recesses. The mine foreman, usually the most -shiftlessly dressed man in camp, twitched his -polka-dotted tie into place when he thought -that Miss Cameron’s attention was absorbed -by the landscape.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[293]</a></span></p> - -<p>Stephen came across from his quarters among -the last. He waited a moment before joining -the group about Miss Cameron; and his eyes -employed that moment in fixing a picture -indelibly on his mind. As Jean leaned lightly -against the wall, in her dress of white linen crash, -she made a picture which no one who saw could -forget. Her gray eyes were clear with the reflection -of the morning light, and the sun -searched for and illuminated the subtle tints of -her hair. She had a pretty way of speaking as -though everything she said were a simple answer -to a clever question. Men liked that. -They thought her appreciative.</p> - -<p>She looked up to notice Loring’s glance upon -her, and answered his “good morning” lightly. -“You need not speak as though you were surprised, -Mr. Loring,” she said, “I may have -been late to breakfast five out of my six days, but -that is no sign that it is a habit with me. Besides, -you know that to-day I am to visit the mine.”</p> - -<p>“So you are still determined?” he asked. -“Really, Miss Cameron, it is not very safe. -There might be an accident of some sort, and,” -he went on, looking at her gown, “you will ruin -your dress.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[294]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Do you fancy that I travel with only one?” -Jean queried smiling. “It may be so, but not -even my vanity shall deter me; I really must -go.”</p> - -<p>Just then Wah appeared on the veranda, -and began to pound with his railroad spike on -the iron triangle which, as at Quentin, served -for a dinner gong.</p> - -<p>“La, la, boom, boom! Breakfast!” he -shouted, amidst the din which he was creating. -“Me bludder, Steve, he almost late. La, la, -boom, boom! Hot cakes, hot cakes; oh, lubbly -hot cakes, oh, lubbly, lubbly—!”</p> - -<p>In the midst of his song he caught sight of -Jean, and stopping his pounding he beamed -upon her.</p> - -<p>“Goodee morning, missee, goodee morning! -Missee on time this morning; how it happen?”</p> - -<p>McKay angrily told him to shut up, but Miss -Cameron stopped the rebuke, assuring Wah -that his reproaches had been well deserved.</p> - -<p>Several minutes after the others had begun -their meal, Radlett appeared at breakfast, still -struggling against sleepiness. Not even the -clear early morning air had thoroughly aroused -him. Breakfasts at half-past six were a distinct<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[295]</a></span> -and not wholly appreciated novelty to Baird. -He slipped into his place beside Jean, and endeavored -to parry her banter upon his indolence. -Stephen, at his side of the table, was occupied in -dispensing the platter of “flap jacks,” which -Wah, beaming with appreciation of their excellence, -had set before him to serve.</p> - -<p>“At what time do we visit the mine?” asked -Jean across the table.</p> - -<p>“As soon after breakfast as you and your -father are ready,” answered Stephen. “The -air is much better early in the day, before they -have begun to shoot down there. But I wish -that you would change your mind about going.”</p> - -<p>Jean turned to the mine foreman for -assistance.</p> - -<p>“It is perfectly safe, isn’t it, Mr. Burns? -I know that all my father and Mr. Loring think -is that I shall be in the way.”</p> - -<p>Burns laboriously protested against such an -idea, and clumsily promised to look after her -safety.</p> - -<p>In the minutes that preceded the seven o’clock -whistle, one by one the men straggled off to -their work, nodding respectfully to Jean and -her father as they left, and calling out parting<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[296]</a></span> -gibes at Wah. By the time that the whistle -blew, the line of ponies picketed to the fence -before the mess had disappeared, and the community -was at work.</p> - -<p>As soon after breakfast as Mr. Cameron had -smoked his morning cigar, he joined Radlett -and Loring, and with Miss Cameron all walked -up to the mouth of the nearest shaft. Burns -met them at the shaft house, and selected from -the pile of oilskins a “slicker” for Miss Cameron. -She struggled helplessly with the stiff button-holes, -and Loring was obliged to button the -coat for her. His fingers, though stronger than -hers, were not much more efficient, owing to -their trembling.</p> - -<p>“Where are the candles, Burns?” asked -Loring.</p> - -<p>Burns pointed to a box in one corner of the -shaft house. Stephen took out a half dozen, -and handed one to each of the visitors. He -put a broken one into the spike candle holder -which he carried, and slipped the others into -his capacious pockets.</p> - -<p>The “skip” shot up and was unloaded. -“All ready!” called Burns, steadying the bucket -by the level of the shaft mouth. Jean stepped<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[297]</a></span> -forward and looked at the bucket just a bit -askance. Loring showed her how to place her -hands on the heavy iron links above the swivel, -and how to stand on the edge of the bucket with -her heels over the edge.</p> - -<p>“Look out that your skirt does not hit against -the side of the shaft!” was his final injunction.</p> - -<p>“Can we go down now?” he asked Burns.</p> - -<p>“One second,” answered the foreman. -“There is a load of sharpened drills to go -down with us.”</p> - -<p>In a moment the little “nipper” appeared -with his armful of drills, and with a ringing -clatter dropped them into the bottom of the -bucket.</p> - -<p>“I think we had better take Mr. Cameron -to the four hundred level right away,” said -Stephen to Burns. “I want him to see that -new stope. The air isn’t very bad there, is -it?”</p> - -<p>“No, it’s pretty fair.”</p> - -<p>“All right. Lower away, four hundred!” -called Loring to the hoist engineer, at the same -time swinging himself onto the bucket beside -the others.</p> - -<p>The skip began to drop slowly down the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[298]</a></span> -timbered shaft. For the first twenty-five or -thirty feet it was fairly light, and Jean could -see the joints in the rough-grained, greasy -boards. Then all became dark. She clutched -the cable tightly and half closed her eyes. The -water began to drip down hard from above, -spattering sharply on their oilskins. Loring, -close beside her, whispered: “All right. Just -hold on tightly, Miss Cameron! Great elevator, -isn’t it?”</p> - -<p>Even while Loring spoke, a chill struck to -his heart. What if the hoist engineer failed in -his duty! What if the bucket crashed into the -black depths that lay below them, or shot -wildly upward to be caught in the timbers at -the top! What if Jean Cameron were to be -snatched away as <em>those others</em> had been, through -the wanton carelessness of the man in charge -above! Would any punishment be black -enough for him? Would eternity be long -enough for him to make a decent repentance?</p> - -<p>By the vigor of the answer which his heart -made to the question, Loring sensed the pang -of remorse which had gnawed at his conscience -without ceasing ever since that awful night. -“That was what you did.” The words said<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[299]</a></span> -themselves over and over in his ear as the bucket -slid downward.</p> - -<p>The air began to turn from the pure clear -atmosphere of the mountains to the heavy -close humidity of the mine, murky even in its -blackness.</p> - -<p>“One hundred level,” explained Stephen, -as the bucket dropped past a candle which -flickered dully in a smoky hole in the side of -the shaft, the entrance to the drift which was -even blacker than the shaft itself.</p> - -<p>As they reached the lower levels, the water -poured down faster. The bucket swung and -twisted and Jean leaned an imperceptible trifle -closer to Loring. He steadied her with his -arm, although it may not have been strictly -necessary for safety.</p> - -<p>The bucket suddenly stopped and hung -lifelessly steady.</p> - -<p>“Here we are, four hundred foot level,” -called Loring. “Please stay just where you are, -Miss Cameron, and we will help you off.” He -swung himself onto the landing stage after the -others, and taking both of Jean’s hands in his, -guided her safely into the drift.</p> - -<p>She stood for a moment completely confused,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[300]</a></span> -unable to make out anything. Loring -leaned out into the shaft, and pulling the bell -cord, signaled to have the bucket raised again. -Then he took Jean’s candle, and biting off the -wax from about the wick, lighted it and his -own, holding them under a small protecting -ledge of rock. To Jean’s unaccustomed eyes -the little flickerings made small difference in the -darkness. She stepped into a pool of water -that lay in the middle of the drift, wetting her -boots to the ankles.</p> - -<p>“Careful!” said Loring, taking her by the -arm. “Keep your eyes on Burns’s candle ahead -there. I will see that you don’t fall.”</p> - -<p>For a couple of hundred yards they walked -on straight ahead down the drift. Jean’s eyes -began to grow accustomed to the gray blackness, -and now, when the roof of the tunnel grew -suddenly lower, she stooped almost by instinct.</p> - -<p>“Look out for the winze, Miss!” called -back Burns.</p> - -<p>“All right!” answered Loring. “This runs -to the next level, a hundred feet down,” he -explained, as he helped Jean to cross the plank -which bridged a black chasm. She noticed the -rails of a little track which ran beneath their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[301]</a></span> -feet, and almost as she was on the point of asking -its purpose, from far ahead in the darkness -came a shrill, weird whistle, and a heavy -rumble.</p> - -<p>Loring caught her and held her back against -the side wall as a “mucker” ran past, wheeling -a heavy ore car towards the shaft and -whistling as warning to clear the track. She -began to feel the effects of the powder fumes -in the air, and it made her head heavy and -drowsy. She felt that she had come into a -new, supernatural universe, where all was noisy, -dark, and strange.</p> - -<p>At last the drift broadened out into a large, -irregular-shaped chamber.</p> - -<p>“Esperanza stope,” said Loring to Miss -Cameron. “Here is where they have struck -the contact vein, where the porphyry changes -to limestone.” He held his candle close to the -dark wall of rock, and she could see the green -crusting betokening the copper.</p> - -<p>“This will assay pretty close to ten per cent, -won’t it, Burns?” asked Loring.</p> - -<p>“It ran to twelve, yesterday,” answered the -foreman.</p> - -<p>They stood still for a moment. All about<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[302]</a></span> -them, as in the crypt of some vast cathedral, -were specks of light, showing through the dense -air, the candles of the miners. Now and then -in the blur there appeared a distorted shape, -as some one moved before a candle. Through -all, loud, insistent, steady, rang the clink-clang, -clink-clang, clink-clang of the drills and hammers, -as a dozen miners drove home the holes -into the breast of the stope, the tapping of the -cleaning rods, as they spooned out the mud, and -the rattle of shovels on rock, as the “muckers” -loaded the ore cars. Mixed with these sounds -was a sharp hissing, as the miners drew in their -breath, swaying back for the driving blow on -the heads of the drills. As she grew accustomed -to the dim light, Jean could make out the miners -who were nearest to her, as, in teams of two, -stripped to the waist, their bodies shiny with -sweat, they battered on the walls. Faintly the -lines of grim archways began to grow out of -the dark, where rough pillars had been left to -support the roofing. Far off, up a cross-cut, -she could see more candles swaying. Two men -near her were toiling at a windlass, raising the -water from a new winze. She leaned against -the wall, and something rattled tinnily. It was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[303]</a></span> -a pile of canteens, all warm with the heat of the -air.</p> - -<p>Jean gasped with the very wonder of the -scene. To the others it was merely the commonplace -of their work.</p> - -<p>Burns called out to Loring: “We are going -to take Mr. Cameron through to the new stope. -It is pretty hard climbing getting through to -there. I guess the lady had better wait here -with you, Mr. Loring.”</p> - -<p>The voices of the rest of the party sounded -faint and far away. Jean watched the light of -their candles sway and dip, as they walked off -down a tunnel, then disappear as a supporting -pillar hid them from view.</p> - -<p>Loring led her to one side of the stope, and -drove the spike of his candle stick into a niche -in the soft rock wall. He pointed to a pile of -loose ore.</p> - -<p>“We can sit here until your father returns. -They are not working this end of the stope -now,” he said.</p> - -<p>She nodded and seated herself with her back -against the wall. Silent, with her chin propped -firmly in her clenched hands, she strained her -eyes to look at the dim lights and shadows at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[304]</a></span> -the other end of the stope, and watched the -shadows grow into things, as she stared. Far -beneath her, in the solid rock, she heard faint -indistinct taps. A trifle awed by the mystery -she turned to Loring.</p> - -<p>“What is that sound?” she asked.</p> - -<p>“Those are ‘Tommy knockers,’” he answered -gravely. “They are the ghosts of men -who were killed in an explosion here, tapping -steadily for help.”</p> - -<p>“Really?” she asked, half laughing.</p> - -<p>“It might be,” answered Loring, “but the -fact of it is that those are men drilling on the -next level. The sound now and then carries -clear through the rock.”</p> - -<p>The candle in the niche behind her cast a -dim light over the soft curves of Jean’s cheeks, -rising delicately above the rough yellow oilskin -coat. Loring beside her, looked down at her -intently. Turning, she inadvertently brushed -against his sleeve, and he quivered as though -it had been a blow. The silence was growing -oppressive with significance. Suddenly Jean -broke it, saying: “Mr. Loring, I may not have -another opportunity of speaking with you alone -while we are in Kay. I must use this chance<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[305]</a></span> -to tell you what pleasure it has given me to -hear of your achievements here, of your courage -in the riot and of—” Jean paused and seemed -to choose her words carefully, “of your victory.”</p> - -<p>“Oh,” answered Stephen, with an attempt -at ease, while all the time his heart was beating -like a trip-hammer, “I suppose Baird has been -talking about me; but you must not take him -too literally. There is no libel law against -flattery, and so men speak their minds about -their friends as freely as they would like to do -about their enemies. Miss Cameron,” he said -suddenly, “I have never thanked you for the -note which you sent me when I left Quentin. -But you must know how grateful I felt. I did -not deserve your trust; but I cannot tell you -how it helped me.”</p> - -<p>She shook her head slowly, and when she -spoke her voice was very soft. “I am glad if -it helped you, but you would have won your -fight without it, I think.” Her tone held a -shadow of question.</p> - -<p>“The whole struggle would not have seemed -worth while without that, and without the -truest friend in the world to help. Miss Cameron, -Baird Radlett came to me when I had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[306]</a></span> -fallen as low as a man could fall. He and your -note saved me.”</p> - -<p>“No,” answered Jean, “you saved yourself. -I think you were saved from the time of that -dreadful night at Quentin, only you did not -know it.”</p> - -<p>The roar of an ore car rushing by drowned -her voice. A moment later Stephen spoke in -a hard, dry tone. “I am not sure,” he said, -“that I know exactly what salvation means. -If it means that I am not likely to make a beast -of myself any more, or murder any more men, -I am glad to believe it is so; but after all what -does it matter to me? I have lost my chance, -thrown it away, and life cannot hold anything -particularly cheerful for me after that.”</p> - -<p>“No, no!” Jean exclaimed with a swift inexplicable -pang at her heart. “You must not -say that. There are chances ahead in life for -every one.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, chances; but not <em>the</em> chance.”</p> - -<p>“Am I <em>the</em> chance?” Jean asked, in a voice -so low that it could scarcely be heard above the -echoes.</p> - -<p>Loring bowed his head, with such dejection -in his bearing as struck to the heart of the girl<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[307]</a></span> -beside him. Jean had been thinking, thinking -hard. The quick throbbing in her temples -attested to the intensity of her mood. She knew -in that instant that she cared for the man -at her side; but how much? Enough to run -the risk?</p> - -<p>“Mr. Loring,” she said at length slowly, as -if weighing her words, “I know that you care -for me; but, and it is hard to say”—she laid -her hand on his arm and tried to meet his eyes—“but -I don’t quite trust you.” She felt his arm -stiffen and quiver, but she went on, although -her voice broke: “I know that you are brave. -I owe my life to that.” She paid no attention -to the gesture with which he waved aside all -obligation. “I respect you more than I can say -for the fight that you have made against habit, -only—”</p> - -<p>“Only?” echoed Stephen slowly.</p> - -<p>“Only—oh, can’t you see that if I were to -marry you and all the time there were in my -heart a doubt, even though the merest shadow, -that neither of us could be happy?”</p> - -<p>Loring crushed between his fingers a piece of -the soft ore and let the fragments trickle to the -ground before he spoke. “It is more than<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[308]</a></span> -year now, Jean. Must the shadow last forever? -Is what I have done to remain forever unpardoned?” -He spoke with the slowness of -an advocate who knows his case is lost, yet -fights to the end.</p> - -<p>“It is not that, Stephen. I could forgive -almost anything that you have done. But there -is one thing that you have done, that try as I -would, I could never forget. Stephen, let me -ask it of you. What is the most essential quality -of all in a—a—friend?”</p> - -<p>“Honesty,” answered Loring, without a moment’s -hesitation.</p> - -<p>“And suppose you knew that a friend had -utterly fallen from honesty?”</p> - -<p>“I should then feel that the word “friend” -no longer applied.”</p> - -<p>Loring was dazed. He did not know of her -cousin’s story of his dishonesty in his relations -with his guardian. He thought only of the -promise he had made to her on their ride in -Quentin and the manner in which he had -broken it. “Yes,” he went on slowly, “I -suppose when a man breaks his solemn word -he shatters forever the mold of his character.”</p> - -<p>“I want you to understand that it is only<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[309]</a></span> -because I cannot forget that one thing, that my -trust in you is not absolute.”</p> - -<p>Loring straightened himself, and for a second -turned his head away. “That,” said he, “is -why I said I had lost <em>the</em> chance.”</p> - -<p>A wave of pity swept over Jean. “And yet, -Stephen,” she whispered, “I—”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Steve! Where are you?” came from -out of the darkness. “We are going up now. -Mr. Cameron thinks we have a fine strike -there.”</p> - -<p>Stephen helped Jean to her feet. Then -silently he led the way back to the shaft.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[310]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX</h2> - -<p>Inanimate things, the poets to the contrary, -do not share human moods. When -Loring returned to his desk in the office -the typewriter, instead of showing the least -sympathy, behaved abominably. Ordinarily -the letter “J” on a well-constructed machine -is on the side, and little used. But this afternoon -it seemed to insist on beginning every word, -and the effect on the business letters which should -have been composed was not beneficial. But -this is perhaps explained by the few terse words -concluding the pamphlet of directions which -accompanied the machine: “No machine ever -made is <em>fool proof</em>.” So Loring had the extra -task of carefully proofreading all his letters. -Being in love always has one of two effects on -a man’s work. He either does twice as much -work half as well, or half as much work twice -as well; but no man truly in love has been able -to reverse these, and double both his zeal and -efficiency. This kind of inspiration has a singular<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[311]</a></span> -disregard for detail, and when it does -deign to notice the minute side of things, it -magnifies them to such an extent that the ultimate -aim is likely to be obscured. As proof of -the above statement, between luncheon and -supper time, Stephen accomplished twice his -usual amount of work with a little less than -half his customary efficiency.</p> - -<p>His work done, Loring banged the cover onto -the typewriter with a little more force than was -necessary, for if inanimate things cannot share -moods, they are still delightful objects on which -to vent overwrought feelings. Stephen’s hat -was on the table behind the swivel chair, and -it was characteristic of him that he used great -exertion to secure it without rising, twisting -the chair into positions which defied all the laws -of gravity. Having set the soft hat at its accustomed -slightly tilted angle, he lit his pipe and -frowned at the garish appearance of the yellow -oak of his desk. Then he rose with the indecisive -motion of one who, when on his feet, -wonders why he has left his chair. Ordinarily -Stephen was a trifle late at supper on account -of staying to lock up the office, and to-night -from an illogical dread of the thing which he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[312]</a></span> -half longed for, half wished to avoid, a talk -with Jean, he did not reach the table until all -the others had left.</p> - -<p>Wah glided in from the kitchen with a fresh -pot of coffee which he set before Stephen, together -with the choicest selections from the -supper which he had as usual saved for him. -When Loring rose from the table, leaving the -larger portion of his meal uneaten, Wah looked -at him reproachfully from the inscrutable depths -of his slanting eyes.</p> - -<p>Baird Radlett, Jean, and a few others were -still gathered on the porch when Stephen -stepped outside. They were gazing intently -down the valley to the westward at the glorious -afterglow in the sky, where, but an instant -before, the red rim of the sun had flashed before -dipping behind the hills. All were silent with -that quietness which is brought forth by moments -of absolute beauty. Loring’s step and -voice aroused them, and all save Jean turned -quickly. Baird saw a color in Jean’s cheeks -far richer and softer than the deep rose hue -in the skies. He glanced quickly from her to -the man standing above her, who was looking -down at her with adoration in his gaze. For<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[313]</a></span> -one second his love for the girl battled with his -friendship for the man, and Radlett realized -the full bitterness of the sacrifice that he was -making. Then friendship conquered, and he -comprehended and sympathized with the sorrow -which to-night made Loring’s face look singularly -old.</p> - -<p>Stephen stayed with them only a few minutes -before returning to the office to play -the old, old game of burying thought beneath -routine.</p> - -<p>Radlett and Jean were left alone on the steps. -Baird watched Stephen until he was hidden by -the angle of the office.</p> - -<p>“Loring,” he said suddenly, turning to Jean, -“has been working fifteen hours a day for the -last six months. He cannot stand it. I am -afraid for him.”</p> - -<p>“Afraid for his—for his—” she hesitated -moment, “for his health?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, and only for his health,”, answered -Radlett decisively. He rose to his feet as if to -gain strength for what he was going to say. -Then he seated himself again on the step beside -her. Drawing a deep breath he began: “Jean, -you are not looking well, either.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[314]</a></span></p> - -<p>Jean murmured something about the fatigue -of the journey from the East.</p> - -<p>“No,” said Radlett firmly, “it is not that. -It is something deeper than that. You know -it is, and I know it, too, so let there be no -concealments between us!”</p> - -<p>“What do you know? How do you know -it?” Jean stammered.</p> - -<p>“A man knows some things by instinct,” -Radlett answered. “I think I should have -found this out before long, anyhow; but your -face, dear, is not good at concealments, and -when I saw your eyes, which had been sad from -the time we met in Tucson, suddenly light at -the sight of Loring in the office here, when -heard the little catch in your voice (Jean, I -know every tone of your voice by heart) and -when I saw and heard you, I knew!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Baird!”</p> - -<p>“Never mind,” exclaimed Radlett, “we will -not talk of that any more. I only wanted you -to understand that we must be quite frank with -each other, and that thus everything will come -out right. Now tell me how things stand with -you.”</p> - -<p>“How can I, Baird? To you, of all people?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[315]</a></span></p> - -<p>“You can and you must, just because I am -I and you are you, and your happiness concerns -me more than anything in the world. You love -Stephen Loring. You are miserable about him. -Why?”</p> - -<p>“I will tell you,” answered Jean slowly, -looking intently out into the darkness. “I will -tell you why I am afraid for him, because you -are his friend as you are mine, and you will -understand. I am afraid that it is only for my -sake that he has made his reform, and I told -him to-day that I did not quite trust him, and -that—oh, Baird, you must understand!”</p> - -<p>Radlett bowed his head in grave assent. -“Yes, I understand.”</p> - -<p>“But,” Jean went on, “if you think that -this will cause him to fall again, I cannot bear -it; for Baird, I do care for him, and if this is -his last chance, I will give it to him.”</p> - -<p>Radlett grasped her hand firmly in his own -and bent over her. No crisis of his life had ever -taxed his self-control like this.</p> - -<p>“Jean,” he said slowly, “he does not need -you. Do you suppose that if he did I should -think him worthy the great gift of your love?” -Baird’s voice broke, in spite of himself; but he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[316]</a></span> -controlled it and went on: “Stephen has fought -his fight and won it as it must be won—<em>alone</em>. -Do you know what he has been since he left -your father? Do you know of the way he behaved -in that fight in Mexico, of the way in -which he has saved the mine here, of the strength, -the powers, the self-discipline that he has shown. -It must be something stronger than his love for -a woman that will save such a man as Loring, -when he has once started down hill. Stephen -had that ‘something stronger.’ God help him, -it cut to the bone! Since that accident, Loring -has never been quite his old self. I am afraid -he never will be, that he will always be under -a cloud, but Jean, it saved him. He has won -his fight without you, and for that reason he -is worthy of you.” Baird felt the fingers in his -own tighten in their grasp. “Jean,” he went -on, “you know how I have cared for you ever -since we were children, and how, although you -did not care,” he cut short her protestation -quickly, “and how although you did not care -in that way, I love you now above anything on -earth.”</p> - -<p>The tears gathered hot in Jean’s eyes.</p> - -<p>“You know that as I told you a moment ago<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[317]</a></span> -your happiness is the highest thing in the world -to me, and I say to you: if you love Stephen, -marry him. If you do not love him, then I am -sorry for him, but I am not afraid for him. I -am proud of him.”</p> - -<p>“He must be a man, Baird, to have such a -friend as you.”</p> - -<p>A deep silence fell between them. Then -Radlett rose suddenly, for he knew his endurance -could stand no more. He bent over her -hand and kissed it tenderly. Then with a heart-rendingly -cheerful “good night,” he strode off -into the darkness towards his quarters.</p> - -<p>For an hour Jean sat on the steps, watching -the lights of the camp, as one by one they were -extinguished, until one light alone burned. It -was in the window of the office. There she -knew a man was working steadily and bravely, -and her heart beat irregularly as the realization -came, that it was the man whom with her whole -heart she loved and trusted for all the future, -whatever might have been the past. The hot -blood came surging into her cheeks only to recede -and leave them pale.</p> - -<p>Rising, she walked slowly across to the office. -She hesitated a moment, her hand on the door-knob,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[318]</a></span> -then throwing back her head proudly, -she opened the door softly and entered. Her -bearing was that of a soldier who surrenders -without prejudice to his pride.</p> - -<p>Loring was bending over his work and did -not see her as she stood in the doorway. She -watched his pen toiling over the paper before -him. The drooping dejection in his whole attitude -cried out to her of his need for her.</p> - -<p>“Stephen!” she half whispered.</p> - -<p>The man jumped to his feet, startled by the -sound of the voice of which he had been thinking. -He turned to her, his face white and tense -with the strain of wonder and surprise. In -three steps he crossed the room to her.</p> - -<p>“Is anything wrong?” he exclaimed anxiously.</p> - -<p>“Yes, something is wrong,” she answered, -looking steadily into his eyes. “I was wrong. -I told you that I did not trust you. I do.”</p> - -<p>“Jean,” he gasped, half suffocated. “Do -you mean that after I had broken my word to -you at Quentin, you could possibly forgive?”</p> - -<p>“I forgave that at the time.”</p> - -<p>His face was drawn with the conflict between -an impossible hope and a desperate fear.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[319]</a></span></p> - -<p>“That was the only time in my life that I -ever broke my word, Jean, but breaking it to -you made it impossible for you to believe in -me. You told me so this morning, and I realized -it. You forgive me that now,” he cried, with a -sudden flash of intuition, “because you are -afraid that in losing you, I shall lose myself -again. Jean, though you are all there is in life -for me, I will not let you sacrifice yourself to -your splendid sympathy. Dearest, can’t you -see that, as you said; if there were a shadow of -doubt on your mind you could never be happy -with me?”</p> - -<p>“It was not what you think which made me -say I did not trust you. It was something, -Stephen, which I know would be impossible in -the man you are now. I could not put your dishonesty -to your guardian out of my mind, until -I realized that that was no more a part of the -Stephen Loring I know now than the faults -which I had forgiven.”</p> - -<p>Loring looked at her in amazement. “My -dishonesty towards my guardian?” he exclaimed. -“Jean, dear, what do you mean?”</p> - -<p>“I was told,” she said sadly, “that you had -borrowed heavily from him, and never returned<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[320]</a></span> -the loan; but we can pay it back together,” she -went on bravely.</p> - -<p>“Jean, every cent that I ever borrowed, I -paid him when I came into my own money. -I don’t know or care where you heard the story, -but the only part of it that is true is that I did -abuse his good nature and ask him to advance -me out of his own fortune the amount that he -held in trust for me.” The impossible hope -conquered the fear in his face. He seized both -of her hands in his and spoke breathlessly.</p> - -<p>“Jean, dearest, was that why you did not -trust me?”</p> - -<p>She looked up at him with her eyes glowing -with a new feeling. The love that had sprung -from pity had grown into the love based on -pride.</p> - -<p>“Do not let us talk of that now,” she whispered, -“but of the present—and—and the -future!”</p> - -<p>Stephen drew her to him with a passion which -only those who have despaired can feel. He -bowed his head and kissed her as for months -he had dreamed of doing. He trembled violently -as his lips met hers; trembled with -wonder, with adoration, with perfect happiness.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[321]</a></span> -He held her tightly in his arms, as though afraid -that all was not real, that he might yet lose her, -as if he drew strength and life from the heart -that beat against his own.</p> - -<p>The present redeemed the past and glorified -the future. Through sin and shame, through -failure and humiliation, he had at last found -his strength, and before him in golden promise -stretched the up grade.</p> - -<hr /> - -<div class="ad"> - -<p class="center"><i>Mr. Oppenheim’s Latest Novel</i></p> - -<div class="bbox"> - -<p class="center larger">THE ILLUSTRIOUS PRINCE</p> - -</div> - -<p class="center"><i>By</i> E. PHILLIPS OPPENHEIM</p> - -<p class="center">Illustrated by Will Foster. Cloth. $1.50</p> - -<p>Mr. Oppenheim’s new story is a narrative of mystery -and international intrigue that carries the reader breathless -from page to page. It is the tale of the secret and -world-startling methods employed by the Emperor of -Japan through Prince Maiyo, his close kinsman, to ascertain -the real reasons for the around-the-world cruise of the -American fleet. The American Ambassador in London -and the Duke of Denvenham, an influential Englishman, -work hand in hand to circumvent the Oriental plot, which -proceeds mysteriously to the last page. From the time -when Mr. Hamilton Fynes steps from the <i>Lusitania</i> into a -special tug, in his mad rush towards London, to the very -end, the reader is carried from deep mystery to tense -situations, until finally the explanation is reached in a -most unexpected and unusual climax.</p> - -<p>No man of this generation has so much facility of expression, -so many technical resources, or so fine a power -of narration as Mr. E. Phillips Oppenheim.—<cite>Philadelphia -Inquirer.</cite></p> - -<p>Mr. Oppenheim is a past master of the art of constructing -ingenious plots and weaving them around attractive -characters.—<cite>London Morning Post.</cite></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">LITTLE, BROWN, & CO., Publishers</span><br /> -<span class="smcap">34 Beacon Street, Boston</span></p> - -</div> - -<hr /> - -<div class="ad"> - -<p class="center"><i>By the Author of “The Kingdom of Earth”</i></p> - -<div class="bbox"> - -<p class="center larger">PASSERS-BY</p> - -</div> - -<p class="center"><i>By</i> ANTHONY PARTRIDGE</p> - -<p class="center">With illustrations by Will Foster. Cloth. $1.50</p> - -<p>This new novel by Anthony Partridge, whose absorbing -romance, “The Kingdom of Earth,” met with instant favor, -has London for its scene. But when you have read it -you will admit that real London, as well as imaginary -Bergeland, is a source of fascinating romance.</p> - -<p>The heroine of “Passers-By” is a street singer, Christine, -who comes to London accompanied by Ambrose Drake, -a hunchback, with a piano and a monkey. The fortunes -of these two are strangely linked with those of an English -statesman, the Marquis of Ellingham, who in his -youth has led a wild and criminal career in Paris as the -leader of a band of thieves and gamblers, the Black Foxes. -Here is the material for a thrilling tale in which mystery -breeds adventure and culminates in love.</p> - -<p>The first chapter plunges the reader into an interest-compelling -maze of events, and the attention is held to -the end by a series of dramatic situations and surprises.</p> - -<p>Mr. Partridge is now reckoned among the favorite novelists -of the day. His first book was “The Distributors,” -the story of a great London mystery. Then came “The -Kingdom of Earth,” one of the popular novels of 1909. -“Passers-By” is his third book.</p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">LITTLE, BROWN, & CO., Publishers</span><br /> -<span class="smcap">34 Beacon Street, Boston</span></p> - -</div> - -<hr /> - -<div class="ad"> - -<p class="center"><i>By the Author of “Aunt Jane of Kentucky”</i></p> - -<div class="bbox"> - -<p class="center larger">THE LAND OF LONG AGO</p> - -</div> - -<p class="center"><i>By</i> ELIZA CALVERT HALL</p> - -<p class="center">Illustrated by G. Patrick Nelson and Beulah Strong</p> - -<p class="center">12mo. Cloth. $1.50</p> - -<p>The book is an inspiration.—<cite>Boston Globe.</cite></p> - -<p>Without qualification one of the worthiest publications -of the year.—<cite>Pittsburg Post.</cite></p> - -<p>Aunt Jane has become a real personage in American -literature.—<cite>Hartford Courant.</cite></p> - -<p>A philosophy sweet and wholesome flows from the lips -of “Aunt Jane.”—<cite>Chicago Evening Post.</cite></p> - -<p>The sweetness and sincerity of Aunt Jane’s recollections -have the same unfailing charm found in “Cranford.”—<cite>Philadelphia -Press.</cite></p> - -<p>To a greater degree than her previous work it touches -the heart by its wholesome, quaint human appeal.—<cite>Boston -Transcript.</cite></p> - -<p>The stories are prose idyls; the illuminations of a lovely -spirit shine upon them, and their literary quality is as -rare as beautiful.—<cite>Baltimore Sun.</cite></p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Margaret E. Sangster</span> says: “It is not often that an -author competes with herself, but Eliza Calvert Hall has -done so successfully, for her second volume centred about -Aunt Jane is more fascinating than her first.”</p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">LITTLE, BROWN, & CO., Publishers</span><br /> -<span class="smcap">34 Beacon Street, Boston</span></p> - -</div> - -<hr /> - -<div class="ad"> - -<p class="center"><i>Sidney McCall’s New American Novel</i></p> - -<div class="bbox"> - -<p class="center larger">RED HORSE HILL</p> - -</div> - -<p class="center"><i>By</i> SIDNEY McCALL</p> - -<p class="center">Author of “Truth Dexter,” “The Breath of the Gods,” etc.</p> - -<p class="center">12mo. Decorated Cloth. $1.50</p> - -<p>A dramatic story, big and splendid in theme, and -handled in masterly style.—<cite>Albany Times-Union.</cite></p> - -<p>Fresh, vigorous, wholesome, well written.... Holding -the absorbed interest from first page to last.—<cite>Chicago -Record Herald.</cite></p> - -<p>The best work Mrs. Fenollosa has given us. It will be -one of the best read and most talked about books of the -year. It is intensely human.—<cite>Springfield Union.</cite></p> - -<p>The reader must be dull, indeed, who is not stirred and -thrilled by this book, even in the light of a human document.—<cite>Lilian -Whiting in New Orleans Times-Democrat.</cite></p> - -<p>A story of emotion, intensely dramatic, and told with -the constructive skill and power of narrative which -Sidney McCall has evidenced so effectively in her earlier -novels.—<cite>Brooklyn Eagle.</cite></p> - -<p>A story of the Southland which promises in a way to do -as much for the white slave of to-day as did “Uncle Tom’s -Cabin” for the black man. Besides the problem of child -labor in the mills there is a love story and romance -that keeps the attention of the reader to the very end.—<cite>St. -Louis Globe Democrat.</cite></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">LITTLE, BROWN, & CO., Publishers</span><br /> -<span class="smcap">34 Beacon Street, Boston</span></p> - -</div> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Up Grade, by Wilder Goodwin - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE UP GRADE *** - -***** This file should be named 60010-h.htm or 60010-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/0/0/1/60010/ - -Produced by WebRover, Peter Vachuska and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from 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. 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