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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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