The Furnace of Gold

By

PHILIP VERRILL MIGHELS

Author of

THE PILLARS OF EDEN, BRUVVER JIM'S BABY, ETC

Illustrations by

J. N. MARCHAND

GROSSET & DUNLAP

Publishers :: New York

Copyright, 1909, by

P. V. Mighels

Copyright, 1910, by

Desmond FitzGerald, Inc. 

_All Rights Reserved_

CONTENTS

CHAPTER

 I. PRINCE OR BANDIT II. INTO THE MOUNTAINS III. A RESCUE IV. CONGENIAL COMPANY V. VAN'S PARTNERS VI. THE BATTLE VII. AN EXCHANGE OF QUESTIONS VIII. A NIGHT'S EXPENSES IX. PROGRESS AND SALT X. THE LAUGHING WATER CLAIM XI. ALGY STIRS UP TROUBLE XII. BOSTWICK LOSES GROUND XIII. A COMBINATION OF FORCES XIV. MOVING A SHACK XV. HATCHING A PLOT XVI. INVOLVING BETH XVII. UNEXPECTED COMPLICATIONS XVIII. WHEREIN MATTERS THICKEN XIX. VAN AND BETH AND BOSTWICK XX. QUEENIE XXI. IN THE SHADOW OF THE ROPE XXII. TWO MEETINGS AFTER DARK XXIII. BETH'S DESPERATION XXIV. A BLIZZARD OF DUST XXV. A TIMELY DELIVERANCE XXVI. THE NIGHT IN THE DESERT XXVII. TALL STORIES XXVIII. WORK AND SONG XXIX. SUSPICIOUS ANSWERS XXX. BETH'S ONE EXPEDIENT XXXI. McCOPPET BUSIES HIS MIND XXXII. THE HARDSHIPS OF THE TRAIL XXXIII. THE CLOUDS OF TROUBLE GATHER XXXIV. THE TAKING OF THE CLAIM XXXV. THE MEETINGS OF TWO STRONG MEN XXXVI. VAN RUNS AMUCK XXXVII. THE PRIMITIVE LAW XXXVIII. BETH MAKES DEMANDS XXXIX. ALGY'S COOKING AND BETH'S DESPAIR XL. GLEN AND REVELATIONS XLI. SUVY PROVES HIS LOVE XLII. THE FURNACE OF GOLD XLIII. PREPARING THE NET FOR A DRAW XLIV. THE ENGINES OF CLIMAX XLV. THE LAST CIGARS XLVI. WASTED TIME XLVII. A TRIBUTE TO THE DESERT

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

He Proceeded to Pan from a Dozen Different Places in the Cove . . . . Frontispiece [missing from book]

His Hold Was Giving Way

The Angry Miner Lurching in Closer to Shoot [missing from book]

"Don't You Want to Give This Man a Chance?"

Beth Felt Her Heart Begin New Gymnastics [missing from book]

No Corpse Snatched from Its Grave Could Have Been More Helplessly Inert

"Yesh, He's Broke the Law"

Till the Mechanism Burst, He would Chase His Man Across the Desert [missing from book]

THE FURNACE OF GOLD

CHAPTER I

PRINCE OR BANDIT

Now Nevada, though robed in gray and white--the gray of sagebrush and thewhite of snowy summits--had never yet been accounted a nun when onceagain the early summer aroused the passions of her being and the wildpeach burst into bloom. 

It was out in Nauwish valley, at the desert-edge, where gold has beenstored in the hungry-looking rock to lure man away from fairer pastures. There were mountains everywhere--huge, rugged mountains, erected in theigneous fury of world-making, long since calmed. Above them all the skywas almost incredibly blue--an intense ultramarine of extraordinaryclearness and profundity. 

At the southwest limit of the valley was the one human habitationestablished thereabout in many miles, a roadside station where a springof water issued from the earth. Towards this, on the narrow, side-hillroad, limped a dusty red automobile. 

It contained three passengers, two women and a man. Of the women, onewas a little German maid, rather pretty and demure, whose duty it was toenact the chaperone. The other, Beth Kent, straight from New York City, well--the wild peach was in bloom!

She was amazingly beautiful and winning. It seemed as if she and not thepink mountain blossoms must be responsible for all that hauntingredolence in this landscape of passionless gray. Her brown eyes burnedwith glorious luminosity. Her color pulsed with health and the joyanceof existence. Her red lips quivered with unuttered ecstacies that surgedin the depths of her nature. Even the bright brown strands of her hair, escaping the prison of her cap, were catching the sunlight and flingingit off in the most engaging animation. She loved this new, unpeopledland--the mountains, the sky, the vastness of it all!

For a two-fold reason she had come from New York to Nevada. In the firstplace her young half-brother, Glenville Kent--all the kin she hadremaining in the world--had been for a month at Goldite camp, where shewas heading, and all that he wrote had inflamed her unusual love ofadventure till she knew she must see it for herself. Moreover, he wasnone too well. She had come to visit and surprise him. 

In the second place, her fiancé, Searle Bostwick, he who was now at thewheel, had also been marooned, as it were, in this sagebrush land, by thegolden allurements of fortune. Beth had simply made up her mind to come, and for two days past had been waiting, with her maid, at the prettylittle town of Freemont, on the railroad, for Searle to appear in hismodern ship of the desert and treat her to the one day's drive intoGoldite, whither he also was bound. 

The man now intent on the big machine and the sandy road was a noticeablefigure, despite the dust upon his raiment. He was a tall, well-modeledman of thirty-five, with an air of distinction upon him, materiallyheightened by his deep-set, piercing gray eyes, his firm, bluish jaw, andthe sprinkling of frost in his hair. 

He wore no moustache. His upper lip, somewhat over long, bore that samebluish tint that a thick growth of beard, even when diligently shaved, imparted to his face. He was, indeed, a handsome being, in a somewhatstern, determined style. 

He was irritated now by the prospect of labor at the station. Evenshould he find some willing male being whose assistance with the tiremight be invoked, the task would still involve himself ratherstrenuously; and above all things he loathed rough usage of his hands. For three more miles he cursed the mechanism, then he halted the car atthe station. 

A shack that served as lodging-house, saloon, and dining-room, a shackfor a stable, and a shack for a shed, together with a rough corral, comprised the entire group of buildings at the place. Six or eight finecottonwoods and a number of twisted apple trees made the little placedecidedly inviting. Behind these, rising almost sheer from the levelyard, the mountains heaved upward grayly, their vast bulk broken, somehundred yards away, by a yawning rock canyon, steep and forbidding. 

The station proprietor, who emerged from the door at sound of the haltingmachine, was a small, lank individual, as brown as an Indian and aswrinkled as a crocodile. The driver in the car addressed him shortly. 

"I wonder if you can help me put on a tire?"

The lank little host regarded him quietly, then looked at the women anddrew his hand across his mouth. 

"Wal, I dunno, " he answered. "I've set a tire and I've set a hen, but Iwouldn't like to tell ye what was hatched. "

The girl in the tonneau laughed in frank delight--a musical outburst thatflattered the station host tremendously. The man at the wheel wasalready alighting. 

"You'll do, " he said. "My name is Bostwick. I'm on my way to Goldite, in a hurry. It won't take us long, but it wants two men on the job. "

He had a way of thrusting his disagreeable tasks upon his fellow beingsbefore they were prepared either to accept or refuse a proposition. Hesucceeded here so promptly that the girl in the car made no effort torestrain her amusement. She was radiantly smiling as she leaned abovethe wheel where the two men were presently at work. 

In the midst of the toil a sound of whistling came upon the air. Thegirl in the auto looked up, alertly. It was the Toreador's song fromCarmen that she heard, riotously rendered. A moment later the whistlerappeared--and an exclamation all but escaped the girl's red, parted lips. 

Mounted on a calico pony of strikingly irregular design, a horseman hadhalted at the bend of a trail that led to the rear of the station. Hesaw the girl and his whistling ceased. 

From his looks he might have been a bandit or a prince. He was a roughlydressed, fearless-looking man of the hills, youthful, tall, and ascarelessly graceful in the saddle as a fish in its natural clement. 

The girl's brown eyes and his blue eyes met. She did not analyze theperfect symmetry or balance of his features; she only knew his hair andlong moustache were tawny, that his face was bronzed, that his eyes werebold, frank depths of good humor and fire. He was splendid to lookat--that she instantly conceded. And she looked at him steadily till awarm flush rose to the pink of her ears, when her glance fell, abashed, to the pistol that hung on his saddle, and so, by way of the hoofs of hispinto steed, to the wheel, straight down where she was leaning. 

The station-keeper glanced up briefly. 

"Hullo, Van, " was all he said. 

The horseman made no reply. He was still engaged in looking at the girlwhen Bostwick half rose, with a tool in hand, and scowled at him silently. 

It was only a short exchange of glances that passed between the pair, nevertheless something akin to a challenge played in the momentaryconflict, as if these men, hurled across the width of a continent tomeet, had been molded by Fate for some antagonistic clash, the essence ofwhich they felt thus soon with an utter strangeness between them. 

Bostwick bent promptly to his labors with the tire. The girl in thetonneau stepped past her maid and opened the door on the further side ofthe car. Bostwick stood up at once. 

"I wouldn't get out, Beth--I wouldn't get out, " he said, a littleimpatiently. "We'll be ready to go in five minutes. "

Nevertheless she alighted. 

"Don't hurry on my account, " she answered. "The day is getting warm. "

The eyes of both Bostwick and the horseman followed her graceful figureas she passed the front of the car and proceeded towards the orchard. Above the medium height and superbly modeled, she appeared more beautifulnow than before. She had not descended for a change of position, or evento inspect the place. As a matter of fact she was hoping to secure aprofile view of the bold-looking horseman on the pony. Her opportunitysoon arrived. He spoke to the station proprietor. 

"Want to see you for a moment, Dave, " and he rode a little off to a tree. 

Dave ceased helping on the tire with marked alacrity and went to thehorseman at once. The two engaged in an earnest conversation, somewhatof which obviously concerned the auto and its passengers, since the lanklittle host made several ill-concealed gestures in the car's directionand once turned to look at the girl. 

She had halted by the orchard fence from which, as a post of vantage, shewas apparently looking over all the place. Her brown eyes, however, swung repeatedly around to the calico pony and its rider. 

Yes, she agreed, the horseman was equal to the scene. He fitted it all, mountains, sky, the sense of wildness and freedom in the air. What washe, then? Undoubtedly a native--perhaps part Indian--perhaps----

There was something sinister, she was certain, in the glance he casttowards the car. He was armed. Could it be that he and the station manwere road-agents, plotting some act of violence? They were certainlytalking about the machine, or its owner, with exceptional earnestness ofpurpose. 

Bostwick had finished with the tire. 

"Come along, Beth, come along!" he called abruptly. 

No sooner had she turned to walk to the car than the horseman rode up inher path. Her heart sank suddenly with misgivings. She halted as theunknown visitor addressed himself to Bostwick. 

"May I speak to you a moment privately?"

Bostwick bristled with suspicions at once. 

"I have nothing of a private nature to discuss with you, " he answered. "If you have anything to say to me, please say it and be prompt. "

The horseman changed color, but lost no whit of the native courtesy thatseemed a part of his being. 

"It isn't particularly private, " he answered quietly. "I only wished tosay I wouldn't rush off to Goldite this morning. I'd advise you to stayhere and rest. "

Bostwick, already irritated by delay, and impervious to any thought of apossible service in the horseman's attitude, grew more impatient and farmore irritating. 

"I haven't desired your advice, " he answered sharply. "Be good enough tokeep it to yourself. " He advanced to the station owner, held out a bill, and added: "Here you are, my man, for your trouble. "

"Heck!" said the lank little host. "I don't want your money. "

Across the horseman's handsome visage passed a look that, to the girl, boded anything but peace. Bostwick's manner was an almost intolerableaffront, in a land where affronts are resented. However, the strangeranswered quietly, despite the fact that Bostwick nettled him to anextraordinary degree. 

"I agree that the sooner _you_ vamoose, the prompter the improvement inthe landscape. But you're not going off to Goldite with these ladies inthe car. "

Matters might still have culminated differently had Bostwick even asked acivil "Why?" for Van was a generous and easy-going being. 

Beth, in the road, felt her heart beat violently, with vague excitementand alarm. Bostwick glared, in sudden apprehension as to what thehorseman had in mind. 

"Is this a hold-up?" he demanded. "What do you mean?"

The rider dismounted, in a quick, active manner, and opened the door ofthe tonneau. 

"You wouldn't have thanked me for advice, " he replied; "you would hardlythank me more for information. " He added to the maid in the car:

"Please alight, your friend is impatient to be starting. " He noddedtowards the owner of the auto. 

The maid came down, demurely, casting but a glance at the tall, commanding figure by the wheel. He promptly lifted out a suitcase andthree decidedly feminine-looking bags. 

Bostwick by now was furious. 

"It's an outrage!" he cried, "a dastardly outrage! You can see I amwholly unarmed! Do you mean to restrain these ladies here by force?"

The horseman slipped his arm through the reins of his pony's bridle, surveying Bostwick calmly. 

"Do you mean to desert them if I do? I have not yet ordered you toleave. "

"Ordered me to leave!" echoed the car owner fiercely. "I can neither beordered to leave nor to stay! But I shall go--do you hear?--I shallgo--and the ladies with me! If you mean to rob us, do so at once andhave it over! My time is precious, if yours is not!"

Van smiled. "I might be tempted to rob a gentleman, " he said, "but todeprive your passengers of your company would be a charity. Pray wasteno more of your precious time if that is your only concern. "

Beth had regained a shadow of her former composure. Her courage hadnever been absent. She was less alarmed than before and decidedlycurious as to what this encounter might signify. She dared address thehorseman. 

"But--but surely--you seem---- You must have some excellent reasonfor--for acting so peculiarly. "

He could not repress the brightness in his eyes as he met herhalf-appealing gaze. 

"Reason, advice, and information would apparently be alike unwelcome toyour chauffeur, " he answered, doffing his hat. "He is eager to hasten onhis way, therefore by all means let us bid him begone. "

Bostwick grew rapidly wilder at each intimation of his social standing--afriend of the maid, and Beth's chauffeur! His impatience to proceed withall possible haste to Goldite was consuming. He had not intended thatanything under the sun should delay him another single hour--not evenBeth, should occasion arise to detain her. Even now he was far moreconcerned about himself and the business of his mission than he was forthe women in his charge. He was much afraid, however, of the horseman'svisible gun. He was not at all a person of courage, and the man beforehim presented such an unknown quantity that he found himself more or lesshelpless. At most he could merely attempt a bluff. 

"You'll pay for this!" he cried somewhat shrilly, his face a black maskof anger. "I'll give you just half a minute to release these ladies andpermit them to go with me in peace! If you refuse----"

The horseman interrupted. 

"I said before you had not been ordered on your way, but now I've changedmy mind. Don't talk any more--get into your car and hike!"

The gleam in his eye achieved two results: It cowed the last vestige ofbravado in Bostwick's composition and ignited all the hatred of hisnature. He hesitated for a moment, his lips parting sidewise as if for aspeech of defiance which his moral courage refused to indorse. Then, notdaring to refuse the horseman's command, he climbed aboard the car, themotor of which had never ceased its purring. 

"You'll pay for this!" he repeated. 

The girl, now pale again and tremendously disturbed, was regardingBostwick with a new, cold light in her eyes--a light that verged uponcontempt. She had never seen this lack of courageous spirit in the manbefore. 

"But, Searle! You're not going--you're not really going, like this?"

It was the horseman who replied. 

"You see, his time is precious. Also in his present state of mind he iscertainly unfit company for--well, for Dave, here, a man who loves thepure white dove of peace. " The station owner grinned. Van turned oncemore to the car owner, adding, placidly: "There, there, driver----"

Bostwick broke in vehemently. 

"I refuse to abandon these ladies! Your conduct is not only that of acoward, it is----"

Van looked him over in mock astonishment. 

"Say, Searle, " he said, "don't you savvy you've lost your vote in thisconvention? I told you to do these ladies the kindness to sweeten theatmosphere with your absence. Now you hit the trail--and hit it quick!"

Bostwick looked helplessly at the girl. 

"I am entirely unarmed, " he said as before, though she knew there was apistol in the car. "This ruffian----"

The horseman cut him short. 

"So long, Searle. I trust you'll meet congenial company on the road, butI advise you even now to return the way you came. "

Bostwick glared at him vindictively, but impotently. His jaw was set andhard. A cold fire glittered in his eyes. How selfishly eager he was tobe started on his way not even the girl could have known. Moreover, somesort of plan for the horseman's speedy punishment had taken possession ofhis mind. 

"Have courage, Beth, " he said to the girl. "Have courage. "

He speeded up his motor, dropped in his clutch, and the car slowlystarted on its way. 

CHAPTER II

INTO THE MOUNTAINS

Beth stood perfectly still beside the road, watching the auto round thehill where it presently disappeared from view. The station ownerpicked up a sliver of wood and began to whittle industriously. Thehorseman remained with his bridle reins in hand, amusedly looking athis captive. The maid sat down upon the suitcase, dropped her skirt ina modest little manner, and cast her gaze upon the ground. 

Beth was the first to speak. 

"Well, Elsa, I hope you are comfortable. "

"Yes, Miss, thank you, " said the maid. 

Thereupon Miss Kent turned to the horseman and laughed. Someway shecould not feel alarmed, in the presence of this man of the hills, inwhose eyes merry devils were dancing. 

"Isn't this absurd?" she said. 

"Searle must have been born absurd, " replied the horseman, once moreremoving his hat. He waved it towards the station host imperiously. "Dave, present me to the lady. " And as Dave floundered, hopelesslypuzzled, he added: "Give me a knock-down, man, don't you savvy?"

Dave dropped his sliver, snatched off his hat, and rid himself of aquid of something strong--all in one convulsion of activity. 

"'Scuse me, " he apologized, approaching nearer. "Miss--Miss--MissLaffin' Water, this is Van. His whole name's----"

"That's enough, " Van interrupted. "I'm gratified to meet you, Señorita, I'm sure. "

He extended his hand. Beth knew not what to do, wherefore she gave himher own. 

"How do you do, Mr. Van?" she answered tremulously, and she drew herfingers back again at once. "If you don't mind, " she added, "we reallymust continue on to Goldite as soon as possible. " A fleeting look ofdoubt and alarm had swept all the mirth from her eyes. After all, evenwith this "introduction" what were these men's intentions? It was agrave affair to be halted thus--to be practically abducted--to be leftwith no protection, in the hands of roadside strangers, one, at least, of whom was certainly inclined to be lawless and outrageously bold. 

The horseman regarded her seriously, as if with a certain divination ofher worry. Someway, from the look in his eyes her confidence returned, she knew not why. 

"Do you ride?" he asked her, "--you and your maid?"

"Why, yes--that is----" she addressed the maid on the suitcase. "Elsa, can you ride--on a horse?"

Elsa said: "Yes, Miss, if it is part of my duty. "

Beth's composure increased. After all, it was a glorious day, thehorseman was handsome, and she had wished for a little adventure--butnot too much!

"What does it mean?" she asked of Van more boldly. "We were perfectlycomfortable, riding in the car. If you really intend to permit us togo, why couldn't we have gone on as we were?"

Dave started to answer. 

"You see, Miss----"

Van cut in abruptly. 

"Never mind, Dave; this isn't your pie. " To Beth he added: "If you'vebrought any particularly appropriate garments for riding, suppose youretire for preparations. Dave will tote the bags inside the house. "

"You bet I will!" said Dave, who, as Elsa rose, took suitcase and allin one load. 

Beth hesitated. The horseman had started already for the stable at therear. How superbly straight was his figure! What a confident, impudent grace beset him as he moved! How could it be possible forsuch a man to be other than a gentleman--no matter where he was found?Some strange little thrill of excitement and love of adventure stirredin the girl's full veins. Resistance was useless. Come what might, she was helpless in the hands of this man--and he seemed a person to betrusted. 

"Come, Elsa, " she said, bravely deciding to face whatsoever mightarise. "You may wear the second of my skirts. "

Fifteen minutes later, therefore, she and her maid emerged from theshack attired in brown cloth, and kahki, respectively, her own skirtlong and graceful, while Elsa's was shorter and divided. Aside orcross-saddle Beth was equally at home upon a horse--or always had been, in the parks. 

Van and Dave now returned, leading two extra ponies from the stable. One was a bay, accoutered with a man's deep Mexican saddle, whereon wassecured a coiled lasso; the other was a wiry little roan mare, with asomewhat decrepit but otherwise sound side-saddle tightly cinched uponher back. 

"Our stable chamberlain has slipped a cog on the outfits for ladiesrecently, " said Van apologetically, "but I reckon these will have todo. "

Beth looked the two mounts over uncritically. They seemed to beequally matched, as to general characteristics, since neither appearedeither strong or plump. She said:

"Shall we ride very far?"

"No, just a pleasant little jog, " replied the horseman. "They call itforty miles to Goldite by the ridge, but it isn't an inch over thirty. "

Thirty miles!--over the mountains!--with an unknown man and her maid!Beth suppressed a gasp of despair and astonishment, not to mentiontrepidation, by making an effort that verged upon the heroic. 

"But we--we can never arrive in Goldite tonight!" she said. "We can'texpect to, can we?"

"It takes more than that to kill these bronchos, " Van cheerfullyassured her. "I can only guarantee that the horses will make it--bysunset. "

Beth flushed. He evidently entertained a very poor notion of herhorsemanship. Her pride was aroused. She would show him something--atleast that no horse could make this journey without her!

"Thank you, " she said, and advancing to the roan she addressed herselfto Dave. "Will you please help me up. Mr. Van may assist my maid. "

Dave grinned and performed his offices as best he could, which wasstrongly, if not with grace. Van shook a threatening fist, behind hiscaptive's back. He had meant to take this honor to himself. 

Fairly tossing the greatly delighted little Elsa to the seat on thebay, he mounted his own sturdy animal and immediately started for thecanyon below, leaving Beth and her maid to trail behind. 

The girl's heart all but failed her. Whither were they going?--andtowards what Fate? What could be the outcome of a journey like this, undertaken so blindly, with no chance for resistance? The horseman hadstubbornly refused a reply to her question; he was calmly riding offbefore them now with the utmost indifference to her comfort. There wasnothing to do but to follow, and resign herself to--the Lord alone knewwhat. The little roan mare, indeed, required no urging; she wastugging at the bit to be off. With one last look of helplessness atthe station and Dave--who someway bore the hint of a fatherly air uponhim--she charged her nerves with all possible resolution and rode onafter her leader. 

Elsa permitted her broncho to trudge at the tail of the column. Shedared to cast one shy, disconcerting little glance at Dave--and hesuddenly felt he would burst into flame and consume himself utterly toashes. 

The great canyon yawned prodigiously where its rock gates stood open togrant the party admission to the sanctum of the hills. Sheer granitewalls, austere and frowning, rose in sculptured immensity on eitherside, but the trail under foot was scored between some scatteredwild-peach shrubs, interspersed with occasional bright-green clumps ofmanzanita. The air was redolent of warmth and fragrance that mightwith fitness have advertised the presence in the hills of someglorified goddess of love--some lofty, invisible goddess, guarded byher mountain snows, yet still too languorous and voluptuous to passwithout at least trailing on the summery air the breath that exhaledfrom her being. It was all a delight, despite vague alarms, and thepromise ahead was inviting. 

Van continued straight onward, with never so much as a turn of hishead, to the horses in the rear. He seemed to have quite forgotten thetwo half-frightened women in his wake. Beth had ample opportunity forobserving again the look of strength and grace upon him. However, shefound her attention very much divided between tumultuous joyance in themountain grandeur, bathed in the marvelously life-exciting air, andconcern for the outcome of the day. If a faint suggestion of pique atthe manner in which the horseman ignored her presence creptsubconsciously into all her meditations, she did not confess it toherself. 

Elsa's horrid little habit of accepting anything and everything withthe most irresponsible complacency rendered the situation aggravating. It was so utterly impossible to discuss with such a being even such ofthe morning's developments as the relationship of mistress and maidmight otherwise have permitted. 

A mile beyond the mouth of the canyon the slight ascent was ended, thechasm widened, rough slopes succeeded the granite walls, and a charminglittle valley, emerald green and dotted with groups of quaking aspentrees, stretched far towards the wooded mountain barriers, loominghugely ahead. It was like a dainty lake of grass, abundantly suppliedwith little islands. 

The sheer enchantment of it, bathed as it was in sun-gold, andsheltered by prodigious, snow-capped summits, so intensely whiteagainst the intensity of azure, aroused some mad new ecstacy in allBeth's being. She could almost have done something wild--she knew notwhat; and all the alarm subsided from her thoughts. As if in answer toher tumult of joy, Van spurred his pinto to a gallop. Instantlyresponding to her lift of the reins, Beth's roan went romping easilyforward. The bay at the rear, with Elsa, followed rhythmically, pounding out a measure on the turf. 

A comparatively short session of this more rapid locomotion sufficedfor the transit of the cove--that is, of the wide-open portion. Thetrail then dived out of sight in a copse where pine trees wereneighbors of the aspens. Van disappeared, though hardly more thanfifty feet ahead. Through low-hanging boughs, that she needs must pushaside, Beth followed blindly, now decidedly piqued by the whollyungallant indifference to her fate of the horseman leading the way. 

She caught but a glimpse of him, now and again, in the density of thegrowth. How strange it was to be following thus, meekly, helplessly, perforce with some sort of confidence, in the charge of this unknownmountain man, to--whatsoever he might elect! The utterly absurd partof it all was that it was pleasant!

At length they emerged from the shady halls of trees, to findthemselves confronted by the wall of mountains. Already Van was ridingup the slope, where larger pines, tall thickets of green chincopin, andledges of rock compelled the trail to many devious windings. Once morethe horseman was whistling his Toreador refrain. He did not look backat his charges. That he was watching them both, from the tail of hiseye, was a fact that Beth felt--and resented. 

The steepness of the trail increased. At times the meager pathwaydisappeared entirely. It lay upon rocks that gave no sign of the hoofsthat had previously rung metallic clinks upon the granite. How the manin the lead discerned it here was a matter Beth could not comprehend. Some half-confessed meed of admiration, already astir in her nature forthe horseman and his way, increased as he breasted the ascent. Howthoroughly at home--how much a part of it all he appeared, as he rodeupon his pony!

Two hours of steady climbing, with her mare oblique beneath her weight, and Beth felt an awe in her being. It was wonderful; it was almostterrible, the fathomless silence, the altitudes, this heretoforeunexperienced intimacy with the mountains' very nakedness! It wasstrange altogether, and impressive, the vast unfolding of the worldbelow, the frequency with which the pathway skirted some darkprecipice--and the apparent unconcern of the man ahead, now soabsolutely master. And still that soul-inviting exhilaration of theair aroused those ecstacies within her spirit that she had not knownwere there. 

They were nearing the summit of the pass. It was still a thousand feetbelow the snow. To the left a mighty chasm trenched the adamant, itsbottom lowered away to depths of mysterious blue. Its side, abovewhich the three stout ponies picked their way, was a jagged set ofterraces, over the brink of which the descents were perpendicular. 

Rising as if to bar the way, the crowning terrace apparently ended thetrail against all further advance. Here Van finally halted, dismounted, and waited for the advent of his charges. 

Beth rode up uncertainly, her brown eyes closely scrutinizing his face. It appeared as if they had come to the end of everything--the place forleaping off into downward space. 

"Let me see if the cinches are tight, " said the horseman quietly, andhe looked to the girth of her saddle. 

It was found to be in a satisfactory condition. The girth on the bayhe tightened, carelessly pushing Elsa's foot and the stirrup aside forthe purpose. 

His own horse now showed unmistakable signs of weariness. He hadtraveled some twenty odd miles to arrive at Dave's before undertakingthis present bit of hardship. Since then Van had pushed him to thelimit of his strength and speed, in the effort to reach Goldite withthe smallest possible delay. 

If a sober expression of sympathy came for a second in the horseman'ssteady eyes, as he glanced where his pony was standing, it quickly gaveway to something more inscrutable as he looked up at Beth, in advancingonce more to the fore. 

"Both of you give them the reins, " he instructed quietly. "Just dropthem down. Let the bronchos pick the trail. " He paused, then added, as if on second thought, "Shut your eyes if you find you're gettingdizzy--don't look down. "

Beth turned slightly pale, in anticipation of some ordeal, undoubtedlyimminent, but the light in her eyes was one of splendid courage. Shemight feel they were all at the gate of something awful, but her naturerose to meet it. She said nothing; she simply obeyed directions andlooked with new emotions on the somewhat drooping mare to whom her ownsafety was entrusted. 

Van was once more in his saddle. He started, and the ponies behindresumed their faithful plodding at his heels. 

A few rods ahead they encountered a change, and Beth could scarcelyrepress a gasp of surprise and apprehension. The trail was laid uponthe merest granite shelf, above that terrible chasm. She wasterrified, frankly. The man and pony in the lead were cut withstartling sharpness against the gray of the rock--the calico coloring, the muscular intensity, the bending of the man to every motion--as theybalanced with terrifying slenderness above the pit of death. 

For a moment the girl thought nothing of herself and of how she toomust pass that awful brink, for all her concern was focused on the man. Then she realized what she must do--was doing--as her roan marefollowed on. She was almost upon it herself!

Her hand flew down to the reins to halt the pony, involuntarily. Awild thought of turning and fleeing away from this shelf of destructionlaunched itself upon her mind. It was folly--a thing impossible. There was nothing to do but go on. Shutting her eyes and holding herbreath she felt the mare beneath her tremulously moving forward, smelling out the places of security whereon to rest her weight. 

Elsa, sublimely unresponsive, alike to the grandeur or the danger ofthe place, rode as placidly here as in the valley. 

They passed the first of the shelf-like brinks, traversed a safercontour of the wall, and were presently isolated upon the second bridgeof granite, which was also the last, much longer than the first, butperhaps not so narrow or winding. 

Van had perspired in nervous tension, as the two women rode above thechasm. Men had gone down here to oblivion. He was easier now, morecareless of himself and horse, less alert for a looseness in thegranite mass, as he turned in his saddle to look backward. 

Suddenly, with a horrible sensation in his vitals, he felt his ponycrumpling beneath him, even as he heard Beth sound a cry. 

A second later he was going, helplessly, with the air-rush in his earsand the pony's quiver shivering up his spine. All bottomless spaceseemed to open where they dropped. He kicked loose the stirrups, evenas the pony struck upon the first narrow terrace, ten feet down, andfelt the helpless animal turned hoofs and belly upward by the blow. 

He had thrust himself free--apart from the horse--but could not clingto the rotten ledge for more than half a second. Then down once morehe was falling, as before, only a heart-beat later than the pinto. 

Out of the lip of the next shelf below the pony's weight tore a jaggedfragment. The animal's neck was broken, and he and the stone-massplunged on downward together. 

Van half way fell through a stubborn bush--that clung with themysterious persistency of life to a handful of soil in a crevice--andhis strong hands closed upon its branches. 

He was halted with a jolt. The pony hurtled loosely, grotesquely downthe abyss, bounding from impacts with the terraces, and was presentlylost to mortal sight in the dust and debris he carried below for ashroud. Sounds of his striking--dull, leaden sounds, tremendous in theall-pervading silence--came clearly up to the top. Then Van found hisfeet could be rested on the shelf, and he let himself relax to ease hisarms. 

CHAPTER III

A RESCUE

Beth had uttered that one cry only, as man and horse careened above thepit. She now sat dumbly staring where the two had disappeared. Nothing could she see of Van or his pony. A chill of horror attackedher, there in the blaze of the sun. It was not, even then, so much ofherself and Elsa she was thinking--two helpless women, lost in thisplace of terrible silence; she was smitten by the fate of their guide. 

Van, for his part, looked about as best he might, observing hissituation comprehensively. He was safe for the moment. The ledgewhereon he was bearing a portion of his weight was narrow and crumblingwith old disintegration. The shrub to which he clung was as tough aswire cable, and had once been stoutly rooted in the crevice. Now, however, its hold had been weakened by the heavy strain upon it, andyet he must continue to trust a part of his weight to its branches. There was nothing, positively nothing, by which he could hope to climbto the trail up above. 

He deliberately rested and fostered his breath, not a trifle of whichhad been jolted in violence from his body. Presently he raised hisvoice and called out, as cheerfully as possible:

"Ship ahoy! Hullo--Miss Laughing Water!"

For a moment there was no response. Beth was to utterly overcome tospeak. She hardly dared believe it was his call she heard, issuing upfrom the tomb. She feared that her hope, her frantic imagination, herwish to have it so, had conjured up a voice that had no genuineexistence. Her lips moved, but made no audible sound. She trembledviolently. Van called again, with more of his natural power. 

"Hullo! Hullo! Miss Beth--are you up there on the trail?"

"Oh, yes! Oh! what shall I do?" cried Beth in a sudden outburst ofrelief and pent-up emotions. "Tell me what to do!"

Van knew she was rather near at hand. The bridge and trail werecertainly no more than twenty-five feet above his head. He could makeher hear with little effort. 

"Brace up and keep your nerve, " he instructed. "We're O. K. Up to date. Just ride ahead till you come to the flat. Let Elsa hold your mare. Can you hear me plainly?"

"Oh! yes--yes--then what next?" replied the worried girl. 

Van resumed calmly: "You'll find a rawhide rope on Elsa's saddle. Comeback with that, on foot. Then I'll tell you what to do. Don't try tohurry; take your time, and don't worry. " After a moment, as he got noreply, he added: "Have you started?"

Beth had not budged her mare, for terror of what she must do. She wasfortifying all her resolution. She answered with genuine bravery:

"Yes--I--I'll do what you say. "

She took up the reins. Her pale face was set, but she did not closeher eyes to cross the dizzying brink. The mare went forward--andElsa's bay resumed his patient tagging, up to and past the fatefulplace where a part of the shelf-edge, having been dislodged, had letVan's pony fall. 

For ten age-long minutes Van waited on his ledge, feeling thetreacherous, rotted stuff break silently away beneath his feet. Theshrub, too, was showing an earthy bit of root as it slowly butcertainly relinquished its hold on the substance which the crevice haddivided. The man could almost have calculated how many seconds theshelf and the shrub could sustain their living burden. 

Then Beth returned. She had left her maid with the horses; she heldthe lasso in her hand. To creep on foot along the granite bridge wastaxing the utmost of her courage. She could not ascertain preciselywhere it was that the horseman was waiting below. She was guided onlyby the broken ledge, where pony and all had disappeared. Therefore, she called to him weakly. 

"Mr. Van--Mr. Van--where are you?"

Van's heart turned over in his breast. 

"Just below that split boulder in the trail, " he answered cheerily. "Go to that. "

A silence succeeded, then he heard, in tremulous accents:

"I'm here--but how am I going to tie the rope?"

Van answered distinctly, for much depended on precision. 

"Uncoil it first. On one end there's an eye that runs the loop. Openthe loop to a pretty good size and slip it over the smaller portion ofthe boulder. Then push it well down in the crevice, and pull it tight. "

He knew that the rope was far too short to loop the larger rock andreach his hands. He waited while he thought she might be working--asindeed she was--and presently added: "Got that done?"

"Yes, " she called. "Yes--but are you sure----"

His hold was giving way. He answered crisply:

"Now drop me the end. Don't wait!"

[Illustration: His hold was giving way. ]

Beth had forgotten all danger to herself. She had ceased to tremble. She paid out the rope with commendable promptness. 

"Does it reach?" she cried. "Can you get it?"

He could not. Though sufficiently long it was ten feet away, on hisright. His seconds were growing fearfully precious. 

"Just shift it over, more towards Elsa, " he called, still calmly. "Move it about ten feet. "

It began to approach him jerkily. It halted, then once more it moved. The shrub in his grasp gave out an inch, and was coming from itsanchorage. Then his fist was closed on the rope. 

"All right!" he called. "Let go--and stand aside!"

"But--oh, if the rock shouldn't hold!" cried the girl. "Are you sureit won't pull over?"

He was not at all certain of the boulder. This explained hisdirections, "stand aside!" If it came--it must not involve the girl. There was nothing for him but to trust to its weight against his own. He was strong. He began to come up, bracing a foot against thecrumbling wall, winding the rope around one of his legs--or his legaround the rope, and resting whensoever he could. 

Beth stood there, nearly as tense as the rope. Her brown eyes werefixed on the bedded boulder; her face was more gray than its bulk. 

At the edge, where the lasso impinged upon the granite, small particleswere breaking and falling ominously. Scarcely daring to breathe, asshe felt how the man was toiling up from the maw of the chasm, Bethcould not bear to look where he must come--if come he ever should. 

It seemed an eternity of waiting. At last, when new misgivings hadseized upon her heart, she heard his labored breathing. Even then shedid not turn. She feared to watch his efforts; she feared to break thespell. A minute later she heard his even voice. 

"It's a wonderful view--from down below. "

The glad, eager light in her eyes, which his eyes met from the brink, put strength in both his arms. He came up to safety in an outburst ofvigor that was nothing short of magnificent. 

"Oh!" said the girl, and she leaned against the wall in a sudden needfor support. 

"I really had no intention of--deserting like that, " panted Van, with asmile that was just a trifle forced. "But it's so much easier to--dropinto a habit than it--ever is to get out. "

She made no reply, but remained where she was, weakly leaning againstthe wall and slowly regaining the strength she had lost at the momentof beholding him safe. She was not the fainting kind, but she washuman--womanly human. 

Van began immediately to release and re-coil the rope. 

"Too bad to throw away a pony like that, " he resumed regretfully. "Ialways intended, if he died a Christian death, to have his hide tannedfor a rug. "

He was saying anything, no matter what, to dissipate the reactionarycollapse into which he feared the girl was falling. 

"Now then, " he added, when the rope was well in hand, "we've wasted allthe time we can spare on a second-rate vaudeville performance. Comealong. "

CHAPTER IV

CONGENIAL COMPANY

He started ahead as he had before, with that show of utter unconcerntowards the girl that was absolutely new to her experience. Her eyeswere wide with appeal as she watched him striding up the trail. Forherself she wanted nothing; but her womanly nature craved some triflingsign, some word of assurance that the man was uninjured--really safeagain and whole--after that terrible plunge. But this from thehorseman was impossible. He had not even thanked her for the rescue. 

"You horrid, handsome wretch!" she murmured vexedly, stimulated torenewed activity by her resentment; then she followed along the narrowway. 

They came to the flat, beyond the wall, where Elsa sat keeping thehorses. The maid looked the horseman over quite calmly, inquiring:

"What for dit you did it--go down there?"

"Just for ducks, " said Van. He halted for Beth's approach, put her upon the roan, and once more strode off in the trail ahead with apromptness that was certainly amazing. 

There was no understanding such a person. Beth gave it up. The wholeaffair was inexplicable--his attitude towards Searle at the station, his abduction of herself and the maid, and this trailing of the pair ofthem across these terrible places, for no apparent reason in the world. 

Her mare followed on in the tracks of the muscular figure, over whom, for a moment, she had almost wished to yearn. His escape from deathhad been so slender--and he would not even rest!

The flat was, in reality, the hog's back or ridge of a lofty spur ofthe mountains. Except for the vast bluish canyons and gorges farbelow, the view was somewhat restricted here, since towering summits, in a conclave of peaks, arose to right and left. 

After a time, as they swung around on the trend of the ridge, they cameabreast a mighty gap in the mountains to the left, and there, far down, lay a valley as flattened by perspective as the unruffled surface of alake. 

Here Van presently halted, peering down and searching the vast grayfloor with the keenest attention. He went on further, and haltedagain, Beth meanwhile watching his face with increasing curiosity. 

At the third of his stops she gazed no more on the panorama ofimmensity, but rather gazed at him. 

"What is it you expect to see?" she inquired at last. "Goldite isn'tdown there, is it?"

"I'm rather expecting--if I haven't miscalculated on the time----There he is now, " he answered, still staring afar off down upon thevalley. He raised his arm and extended a finger to point towards thenorth-most limit of the level stretch of land. "Do you see that small, dark object in the road? That's a road, that slender yellow streakthat you can follow. "

Beth obeyed directions and thereby discerned, with remarkableclearness, the moving object, far away below. She did not in the leastsuspect its nature. 

"Why, yes--what is it?" she asked with languid interest, havingexpected something more significant. "Is it some small animal?"

"Yes, " responded Van. "It's Searle. "

Beth was instantly all attention. 

"Not Mr. Bostwick, in his car?"

Van continued to study the gray of the world-wide map. 

"I rather wonder----" he mused, and there he halted, presently adding, "He's climbing a hill. You might not think so, looking down from here, but it's steep and sandy, for a car. "

She was watching eagerly. 

"And he's no further along towards Goldite than this?"

"He's had some tough old going, " answered Van. "He's in luck to----"then to himself, as he continued to scan the scene for something he didnot apparently find. "By Jupe! I'd have sworn Matt Barger----" Hebroke off abruptly, adding in a spirit of fairness, "Searle is gettingright up to the ridge all right. Good boy! He must have a powerfulmotor under the--There! By George! I knew it! I knew it! Got him!right there in the gravel!"

The girl looked suddenly upon him, wholly unable to comprehend thesharp exclamations he was making. 

"What has got him? What do you mean?" she demanded in vague alarm. "Idon't see what you----"

"That's Matt every time--I thought so, " he resumed, as he stepped alittle closer to the girl. "Don't you see them?--those lively littlespecks, swarming all around the machine?"

Beth bent her gaze on the drama, far below--a play in which she knewbut one of the characters, and nothing of the meaning of the scene. 

"I see--yes--something like a lot of tiny ants--or something. What arethey?--not robbers?--not men?"

"Part men, part hyenas, " he told her quietly. "It's a lot of Stateconvicts, escaped from their prison, two days free--and desperate. "

She was suddenly very pale. Her eyes were blazing. 

"Convicts! Out of prison?"

"A good long way out, " he told her watching, "and clever enough to hikefor the mines, with the camps all full of strangers. They learn to begood mixers, when they're trying to escape. "

Beth gazed at him searchingly. 

"You--knew they were out--and waiting on the road?"

"Everyone knew they were out--and I certainly thought big Matt would doprecisely what you see he has done. "

"Matt?" she echoed. 

"The leader, " he explained, "a clever brute as ever worried a sheriff. "

She was not in the least interested in the personality of the convictthus described. Her mind had flown to another aspect of the case--thecase involving herself. 

"And this was why you wouldn't let us go in the auto?" she said. "Youexpected this?"

He looked at her quickly. 

"Searle wouldn't take my advice, you know. " His eyes were once moremerry. "What could I do?"

"But Mr. Bostwick wouldn't have gone if you had told him!" she said. "Oh, I'm surprised you'd do it--let him go and be captured like that!"She was looking down upon the silent drama intently as she added: "Idon't see why you ever did it!"

He was still amused. 

"Oh, I thought perhaps Searle deserved it. "

She blazed a little. 

"You told him you hoped he'd meet congenial company on the road. Youdidn't mean----"

"Guilty as charged in the indictment. I guess I did. "

"Oh! I wouldn't have thought----" she started, then she shivered inhorror, reflecting swiftly on the fate that might have befallen herselfand Elsa had they too been captured with Searle. It was all explainedat last--the horseman's earnest talk with Dave, his quiet but grimrefusal to permit herself and Elsa to remain with the car, and thehazardous ride he had since dared compel them to take at such peril tohis life! And now, his persistent advance on foot, when perhaps he waspainfully injured! He had done then such a service as she could neverin her life forget. His treatment of Searle had perhaps, even as hesaid, been deserved. Nevertheless, Searle was much to her, very much, indeed--or had been--up to this morning--and she was worried. 

"What do you think they will do?" she added in a spirit of contritionthat came at once upon her. "They must be terrible men!"

"They won't do much but take his money and clothes, and maybe beg for aride, " said Van reassuringly. "They'll see he isn't fit to kill. "

Beth glanced at him briefly, inquiringly. What a baffling light it wasthat played in the depths of his eyes! What manner of being was he, after all? She could not tell. And yet she felt she could trusthim--she certainly knew not why. Despite his ways of raillery she felthe was serious, true as steel, and big in heart and nature. 

"I mustn't forget to thank you, " she murmured. "I mean for sparingus--all that. I do thank you, most sincerely, for----"

"Never mind that, " he interrupted. "We're going to be late to lunch. "

He turned once more to the trail and started off, in his active manner, together with a thorough indifference as to what became of Bostwick. 

Beth, with a feeling that something ought yet to be done for Searle, down in the valley with the convicts, cast one helpless glance at thescene of the hold-up, then perforce urged her pony forward. 

Van halted no more. He led the way doggedly onward, over the rises, through great silent forests, past crystal springs, and down dark, somber ravines. At a quarter of one he emerged from a gorge upon thelevel acre of a tiny cove, still high in the mountains fastnesses. Here he let out a whoop like an Indian, its echo filling all the place. 

An answering call came clearly from somewhere near at hand. Beth felta sudden alarm to know there were human beings near. What sort theywere was a matter entirely of conjecture. Then presently shediscovered a number of small, rude buildings, and a fair-sized cabin, planted next the hill. The door of the latter was open. A tall manappeared in the frame. 

"This, " said Van, who had waited for the girl to ride once more to hisside, "is the Monte Cristo mine--the worst false alarm that everdisfigured the map. "

CHAPTER V

VAN'S PARTNERS

The Monte Cristo mining property comprised a tunnel in the hill, aglory hole, a little toy quartz-mill--five stamps strong--thebunk-house, kitchen, blacksmith-shop, stable, corral, and four humanbeings. These latter were a Chinese cook named Algy, a Piute Indianhalf-breed called Cayuse, and two rare souls--Napoleon G. Blink and"Gettysburg"--miners, and boastful old worthies, long partnered andbeloved by Van. 

Just at present the tunnel was empty, the glory-hole was deserted, andthe quartz-mill was silent. The mine had proved a failure. Van hadexpended many thousands of dollars and ten months of time todemonstrate the facts; and now, in possession of much new experience, an indomitable spirit, two tired partners, and a brand-new claim, hewas facing his fate, as heretofore, with a wonderful boyish cheer. 

Not all this knowledge was vouchsafed to Beth when she and her maidwere presently put in possession of the place. With the utmost gravityVan introduced her by old Dave's appellation, Miss Laughing Water. Themaid he merely called Elsa. His explanation as to whence they hailed, whither they were bound, why he had taken them in charge, and how hehad lost the pinto pony, was notable chiefly for its brevity. He andhis charges were hungry and somewhat pressed for time, he announced, and he therefore urged Algy to haste. 

Dinner had been promptly served at twelve. Algy was therefore indespair--for Algy was proud of his art. He still had good red beans, most excellent coffee, corn-fed bacon, the best of bread and butter, ahunger-inspiring stew of lamb, white potatoes, fine apple sauce, andsuperlative gingerbread on hand in great abundance, however, but inspite of it all he spluttered. 

"What's mallah you, Van?" he demanded several times. "Wha' for no tellme blingee ladies? How you s'plose I gettee dinner? Sominagot, youcome like this, that velly superstich. "

He would readily have laid down his very life for Van, but he laid agood dinner instead. During its preparation Beth and her maid sat downon a bench beside the bunk-house, in the presence of Cayuse, Napoleon, and Gettysburg, while Van led the horses to the stable for refreshment, and Algy talked to himself in pigeon English. 

It was an odd situation for the girl from New. York, but she foundherself amused. Both Napoleon and Gettysburg had been cast for amusingroles, which they did not always fill. Neither, as might be supposedfrom his name, had ever even smelled the faintest suggestion of thingsmilitary. Napoleon had once been a sailor, or, to be more accurate, ariver boatman. He was fat, short, red-headed, red-necked, red-nosed, and red-eyed. His hands were freckled, his arms were hairy. He turnedhis head to one side like a bird--and promptly fell in love with demurelittle Elsa. 

Gettysburg was as thin as Napoleon was fat. He had a straggling graybeard, a very bald pate, high cheek bones, and a glass eye. This eyehe turned towards the maid, perhaps because it was steady. He also hada nervous way of drawing one hand down his face till he lowered his jawprodigiously, after which, like the handle of a knocker, it would fallback to place with quite a thump. He did this twice as he stared atBeth, and then he remarked:

"Quite a hike yit, down to Goldite. "

"I suppose it is, " said Beth in her interesting way. "How far is it, really, from here?"

"'Bout twenty miles of straight ahead, and two miles of straight up, and three of straight down--if a feller could go straight, " saidGettysburg gravely, "but he can't. "

Beth looked very much concerned. She had hoped they were almost there, and no more hills to climb or descend. She felt convinced they hadridden over twenty miles already, and the horseman had assured her itwas thirty at the most, from the station so far behind the mountains. 

"But--Mr. Van can't walk so far as that, " she said. "I'm sure I don'tsee what----"

She was interrupted by the reappearance of Van himself. 

"Isn't there a horse on the place?" he asked his partners collectively. "What have you done with the sorrel?"

Gettysburg arose. "Loaned him to A. C. , yistiddy, " said he. "But theoutlaw's on the job. "

"Not Vesuvius?" Van replied incredulously. "You don't mean to say he'sturned up again unslaughtered?"

"Cayuse here roped him, up to Cedar flat, " imparted Gettysburg. "Cornered him there in natural corral and fetched him home fer fun. "

Napoleon added: "But Cayuse ain't been on board, you bet. He likessomething more old-fashioned than Suvy. Split my bowsprit, I wouldn'ttow no horse into port which I was afraid to board. When I was bustin'bronchos I liked 'em to be bad. "

"Yes, " agreed Gettysburg, "so bad they couldn't stand up. "

A bright glitter came for a moment in Van's blue eyes. 

"If Suvy's the only equine paradox on the place, he and I have got toargue things out this afternoon, " he said, "but I'll have my dinnerfirst. "

Beth was listening intently, puzzled to know precisely what the talkimplied. She was vaguely suspicious that Van, for the purpose ofescorting her on, would find himself obliged to wage some manner of warwith a horse of which the Indian was afraid. 

Further discussion of the topic was interrupted now by the cook, whoappeared to announce his dinner served. Beth and her maid were, therefore, directed by Van to a table set for two, while he, withNapoleon and Gettysburg for company, repaired to a place in the kitchen. 

Beth was hungry. She ate with all the relish of a mountaineer. Algy, moreover, was a kitchen magician in the art of transforming culinarycommonplaces into viands of toothsome delight. Elsa becamespeechlessly busy. Despite her wishes in the matter, Beth could hearthe men talking beyond. 

"So them convicts has hiked over this way already, " said the voice ofGettysburg distinctly. "We heard from A. C. About the prison break, but he wasn't on to which ones they was. "

"One is Matt Barger, " Van informed them. "He's the only one I know. "

"Matt Barger! Not _your_ Matt Barger?" demanded Gettysburg sharply. 

Van nodded. "Mine when I had him. "

Gettysburg arose excitedly. 

"He ain't come hunting fer you as quick as this?" he inquired uneasily. "That ain't what's fetched him over to the desert?"

"Haven't asked him, " answered Van. "He promised to look me up if everhe got out alive. "

"Look you up!" Gettysburg was obviously over-wrought by the mereintelligence that Barger was at liberty. "You know what he'll do! Youknow him, boy! You know he'll keep his word. You can't go foolin'around alone. You've got to be----"

"Pass the beans, " Van interrupted. He added more quietly: "Sit down, Gett, and shut the front door of your face. "

Napoleon was eating, to "keep Van company. " He pushed away his plate. 

"Just our luck if these here derelicts was to foul us, skipper andcrew, " he observed ruefully. "Just our luck. "

Gettysburg sat down, adding: "Why can't you wait, Van, wait till thewhole kit and boodle of us can move to the bran'-new claim?"

Van finished half a cup of coffee. 

"I told you I should continue on without delay. The horses willprobably come to-night for all of you to follow me to-morrow. "

"Then why don't you wait and go with us?" repeated Gettysburg. "We'llgit there by noon, and you ain't got nuthin' to ride. "

The horseman answered: "Suvy's the prettiest gaited thing you eversaw--when he gaits. "

"Holy toads!" said the older man apprehensively, "you ain'tsure-a-goin' to tackle the outlaw today?"

"I've always felt we'd come to it soon or late, " was Van's reply. "AndI've got to have a horse this afternoon. We can't kill each other butonce. "

"Supposen he stoves in your pilot-house, " said Napoleon. "What shallwe do about the claim, and all this cargo, and everything?"

"The claim? Work it, man, work it, " Van responded. "What's a miningclaim for but to furnish good hard work for a couple of old ring-tailedgaloots who've shirked it all their lives?"

"Work it, yep, but what on?" asked Gettysburg. "We're as broke as ahatched-out egg. "

"Haven't you worked on shinbones and heavenly hopes before?" inquiredthe busy leader of the partnership. "And that reminds me, Algy, whatabout you?" he added to the Chinese cook. "We can't afford atippe-bob-royal chef of your dimensions after this. I guess you'llhave to poison somebody else. "

"What's mallah you, Van?" Algy demanded aggressively. "You makee mevelly sick. You get velly lich I cook your glub. You go bloke, I cookalle same. Sominagot, I b'long go with you all time. You no got goodluck I never want the money, you savvy? You go hell--go anywhere--I gosame place--that's all. You talkee big fool, that velly superstich. "He looked at Van fiercely to disguise a great alarm, a fear that hemight, after all, be dismissed in the break-up impending. 

Van shrugged his shoulders. 

"Sentenced for life. All right, Algy, if your cooking kills us off, atleast, as the brave young husband remarked, it will all be in thefamily. "

Algy still looked as fierce as one of his heathen idols. 

"You t'ink velly smart, " he said, still concealing his feelings. "Lats!" and with that he went out to chop some wood. 

"Batten me into the pantry!" said Napoleon. "I'll bet old Algy'd boardthe outlaw himself, fer you, Van, squall and all. "

"That horse ain't human, " Gettysburg exploded anew. "Van, you can'tride no such Fourth-of-July procession!"

"Shut up!" murmured Van, with a gesture towards the room where Beth andher maid were dining. He added aloud: "The chances are we'll find he'sa cheap Sunday-school picnic. Napoleon, you and Cayuse go out andprepare his mind for work. "

"Aye, aye, " said Napoleon rising to go, "but I wish we had somesoothin' syrup, skipper. "

He and the Indian were heard to depart, by Beth, sitting back in herchair. She was greatly alarmed by all she had heard of vengefulconvicts and the vicious horse, and could eat no more for nervous dread. 

"That horse has killed his man, and you know it, " said Gettysburg in awhisper that the girl distinctly overhead. "Boy, boy, let the Injunride him first. "

"There, there, ease off, " Van answered quietly. "You keep the womenentertained about the mill while Suvy and I are debating. "

He gulped down a last drink of coffee, silenced the miner's furtherremonstrances, and departed by way of the kitchen door. 

Beth arose hurriedly and hastened forth, intent upon immediateprevention, if possible, of any further ordeals undertaken in behalf ofherself. She was thoroughly frightened. A prescience of somethingominous impending seemed to grip her very heart. She glanced about, helplessly, unfamiliar with the place. Van was nowhere in sight. Shestarted to run around the cabin when Gettysburg appeared in her path. 

"Well, well, " said he nervously, "now who'd a-thought you'd finishedeatin'?"

"Oh please, " she said, "please go tell Mr. Van I'd rather he wouldn'tattempt to ride _any_ horse again to-day. Will you please go tell himthat?"

"You bet your patent leathers!" said Gettysburg. "You just go over andglobe-trot the quartz-mill while I'm gone, and we'll fix things rightin a shake. "

He strode off in haste. Beth watched him go. She made no move towardsthe quartz-mill, which Gettysburg had indicated, over on the slope. 

She soon grew restive, awaiting his return. Elsa came out and satdown. The old miner failed to reappear. 

At length, unable to endure any longer her feeling of alarm andsuspense, Beth resolutely followed where Gettysburg had gone, and sooncame in sight of the stable and high corral. Then her heart struck ablow of excitement in her breast, and her knees began to weaken beneathher. 

CHAPTER VI

THE BATTLE

Too late to interfere in the struggle about to be enacted, the girlstood rigidly beside a great red pine tree, fixing her gaze upon Van, on whose heels, as he walked, jingled a glinting pair of spurs. 

From the small corral he was leading forth as handsome an animal asBeth had ever seen, already saddled, bridled--and blindfolded. Thehorse was a chestnut, magnificently sculptured and muscled. He was ofmedium size, and as trim and hard as a nail. His coat fairly glistenedin the sun. 

Despite his beauty there was something about him that betokened menace. It was not altogether that the men all stood away--all save Van--noryet that the need for a blindfold argued danger in his composition. There was something acutely disquieting in the backward folding of hisears, the quiver of his sinews, the reluctant manner of his stepping. 

Beth did not and could not know that an "outlaw" is a horse so utterlyabandoned to ways of broncho crime and equine deviltry that no man isable to break him--that having conquered man after man, perhaps evenwith fatal results to his riders, he has become absolutely depraved andimpossible of submission. She only knew that her heart was beatingrapidly, painfully, that her breath came in gasps, that her wholenervous system was involved in some manner of anguish. She saw theChinese cook run past to witness the game, but all her faculties werefocused on the man and horse--both sinister, tense, and grim. 

Van had not turned in Beth's direction. He was wholly unaware of herpresence. He halted when the horse was well out towards the center ofthe open, and the outlaw braced awkwardly, as if to receive an attack. 

With the bridle reins held in his hand at the pommel of the saddle, Vanstood for a moment by the chestnut's side, then, with incrediblecelerity of movement, suddenly placed his foot in the stirrup and wasup and well seated before the blinded pony could have moved. 

Nothing happened. No one made a sound. No one, apparently, save Beth, had expected anything to happen. She felt a rush of relief--that cameprematurely. 

Van now leaned forward, as the horse remained stiffly braced, andslipping the blindfold from the pony's eyes, sat back in the saddlealertly. 

Even then the chestnut did not move. He had gone through this ordealmany times before. He had often been mounted--but not for long at atime. He had even been exhausted by a stubborn "broncho buster"--somehardy human burr who could ride a crazy comet--but always he had won inthe end. In a word he had earned his sobriquet, which in broncho-landis never lightly bestowed. 

Van was not in the least deceived. However, he was eager for theconflict to begin. He had no time to waste. He snatched off his hat, let out a wild, shrill yell, dug with his spurs and struck the animal aresounding slap on the flank, that, like a fulminate, suddenlydetonated the pent-up explosives in the beast. 

He "lit into" bucking of astounding violence with the quickness ofdynamite. 

It was terrific. For a moment Beth saw nothing but a mad grotesquerieof horse and man, almost ludicrously unnatural, and crazed witheccentric motion. 

The horse shot up in the air like a loose, distorted piece of statuary, blown from its pedestal by some gigantic disturbance. He appeared tobuckle in his mid-air leap like a bended thing of metal, then droppedto the earth, stiff-legged as an iron image, to bound up again with madand furious gyrations that seemed to the girl to twist both horse andrider into one live mass of incongruity, He struck like a ruin, falling from the sky, went up again withdemon-like activity, once more descended--once more hurtled wildlyaloft--and repeated this maneuver with a swiftness utterly bewildering. 

Had some diabolical wind, together with a huge, volcanic force, takeninsane possession of the animal, to fire him skyward, whirl him about, thrash him down viciously and fling him up again, time after time, hecould not have churned with greater violence. 

He never came down in the same place twice, but he always came downstiff-legged. The jolt was sickening. All about, in a narrow, earth-cut circle he bucked, beginning to grunt and warm to his work andhence to increase the deviltry and malice of his actions. 

Van had yelled but that once. He saw nothing, knew nothing, save adizzy world, abruptly gone crazy about him. 

To Beth it seemed as if the horror would never have an end. Oneglimpse she had of Van's white face, but nothing could it tell of hisstrength or the lack thereof. She felt she must look and look till hewas killed. There could be no other issue, she was sure. And forherself there could be no escape from the awful fascination of themerciless brute, inflicting this torture on the man. 

It did end, however, rather unexpectedly--that particular phase of theconflict. The horse grew weary of the effort, made in vain, todislodge the stubborn torment on his back. He changed the program withthe deadliest of all a broncho's tricks. 

Pausing for the briefest part of a second, while Van must certainlyhave been reeling with hideous motion and jolt, the chestnut quicklyreared on high, to drop himself clean over backwards. It was thus thatonce he had crushed the life from a rider. 

"Oh!" screamed Both, and she sank beside the tree. 

The men all yelled. They were furious and afraid. 

With hoofs wildly flaying the air, while he loomed tall and unreal insuch an attitude, the broncho hung for a moment in mid-poise, thendropped over sheer--as if to be shattered into fragments. 

But a mass of the bronze-like group was detached, and fell to one side, on its thigh. It was Van. He had seen what was coming in time. 

Instantly up, as the brute rolled quickly to arise, he leaped in thesaddle, the horn of which had snapped, and he and the chestnut cameerect together, as if miraculously the equestrian group had beenrestored. 

"Yi! Yi!" he yelled, like the madman he was--mad with the heat of thefight--and he dug in his spurs with vicious might. 

Back to it wildly, with fury increased, the broncho leaped responsively. 

Here, there, all the field over, the demon thrashed, catapultingincredibly. He tried new tricks, invented new volcanics of motion, developed new whirlwinds of violence. 

Once more, then, as he had on the first occasion, the beast reared upand fell backward to the earth. Once more Van dropped away from hisbulk and caught him before he could rise. This time, however, he didnot immediately mount--and the men went running to his side. 

"Fer God's sake, boy, let me kill the brute!" cried Gettysburg takingup a club. 

"I'll shoot him! I'll shoot him! I'll shoot him!" said Napoleonwildly, but without any weapon in his hands. 

Beth beheld and heard it all. She was once more standing rigidly byher tree, unable to move or speak. She wished to run to Van as the menhad run, but not to slay the broncho--only to beg the horseman not tomount again. 

She saw him push the men away and stand like the broncho's guard. Hisface was streaked with blood--his blood--jolted alike from his mouthand nose by the shocks to which he had been subjected. 

"Let the horse alone!" he commanded roughly. "Good stuff in thisbroncho--somewhere. Get me a bottle of water, right away--a bigone--get it full. "

His partners started at once to raise objections. The Indian stood bystolidly looking on. 

"You can't go no further. Van, you can't----" started Gettysburg. 

"Sominagot! Una ma, hong oy! Una ca see fut!" said the Chinese-cook, swearing vehemently in the language likeliest to count, and he ran atonce towards the kitchen. 

Van was replacing the blindfold on the broncho's eyes. The animal waspanting, sweating, quivering in every muscle. His ears went backwardand forward rapidly. The blindfold shut out a wild, unreasoningchallenge and defiance that burned like a torch in his eyes. 

Algy came running with a big bottle, filled and corked. 

"Fer God's sake, leave me kill him!" Gettysburg was repeatingautomatically. "Van, if you ain't got no respect fer yourself, ain'tyou got none left fer us old doggone cusses?"

"Give me the bottle, Algy, " Van replied. "You're the only game sporton the ranch. "

Still he did not discover Beth. His attentions were engrossed by thehorse. He was dizzy, dazed, but a dogged master still of his forces. Up he mounted to the saddle again, the bottle held firmly in his grasp. 

"Slip off the blinder, " he said to his friends, and Algy it was whoobeyed. 

"Damn you, now you buck!" cried Van wildly, and his heels ignited thevolcano. 

For five solid minutes the broncho redoubled his scheme of demoniacfury. Then he poised, let out a shrill scream of challenge, andabruptly raised to repeat the backward fall. 

Up, up he went, an ungainly sight, and then--the heavens split in twain. 

He was only well lifted from the earth when, with a thunderous, terrible blow, Van crashed the bottle downward, fairly between hisears, and burst it on his skull. 

The weapon was shattered with a frightening thud. Red pieces of glassand streaming water poured in a cataract down across the broncho's eyesas if very doom itself had suddenly cracked. A cataclysm could nothave been more horrible. An indescribable fright and awe overwhelmedthe brutish mind as with a cloud of lead. 

Down swiftly he dropped to his proper position, perhaps with a fearthat his crown was gaping open from impact with the sky. He wasstunned by the blow upon his brain, and weakened in every fiber. Hestarted to run, in terror of the thing, and the being still solid inthe saddle. Wildly he went around the cove, in the panic of utterdefeat. 

The men began to cheer, their voices choked and hoarse. Van rode nowas fate might ride the very devil. He spurred the horse to furious, exhausting speed, guiding him wildly around the mountain theater. Again and again they circled the grassy arena, till foam and latherwhitened the broncho's flank, chest, and mouth, and his nostril burnedred as living flame. 

When at last the animal, weary and undone, would have sobered down to atrot or walk, Van forced him anew to crazy speed. At least five mileshe drove him thus, till the broncho's sides, like the rider's face, were red with blood mingled with sweat. 

Beth, at the climax, had gone down suddenly, leaning against the tree. She had not fainted, but was far too weak to stand. Her eyes onlymoved. She watched the two, that seemed welded into one, go racingmadly against fatigue. 

At last she beheld the look of the conquered--the utter surrender ofthe broken and subdued--gleam dully from the wilted pony's eyes. Shepitied the animal she had feared and hated but a few brief momentsbefore. She began to think that the man was perhaps the brute, afterall, to ride the exhausted creature thus without a sign of mercy. 

She rose to her feet as the two came at last to a halt, master andservant, conquered and conqueror, man and quivering beast. 

Then Van got down, and her heart, that had pitied the horse, welledwith deeper feeling for the rider. She had never in her life seen aface so drawn, so utterly haggard beneath a mask of red as thatpresented by the horseman. 

Van nearly fell, but would not fall, and instead stood trembling, hisarm by natural inclination now circling the neck of the pony. 

"Well, Suvy, " he said not ungently, "we gave each other hell. Hereafter we're going to be friends. "

Beth heard him. She also saw the chestnut turn and regard the man witha look of appeal and dumb questioning in his eyes that choked her--withjoy and compassion together. She someway knew that this man and horsewould be comrades while they lived. 

Half an hour afterward as she, Van, and Elsa rode forward as before, she saw the man in affection pat the broncho on the neck. And thehorse pricked his ears in a newfound gladness in service and friendshipthat his nature could not yet comprehend. 

CHAPTER VII

AN EXCHANGE OF QUESTIONS

Youth is elastic, and Van was young. An hour of quiet riding restoredhim astoundingly. He bore no signs of fatigue that Beth could detectupon his face. Once more, as he had in the morning, he was riding aheadin the trail, apparently all but oblivious of the two anxious women inhis charge. 

They had wound far downward through a canyon, and now at length wereemerging on a sagebrush slope that lowered to the valley. Van halted forBeth to ride to his side, and onward they continued together. 

"I suppose you have friends to whom you are going in Goldite, " he said, "--or at least there's someone you know. "

"Yes, " she answered, "my brother. "

Van looked at her in his quizzical way, observing:

"I don't believe I know him. "

Her glance was almost one of laughter. 

"Why, how can you tell? You don't even know his name. " She paused, thenadded quietly: "It's Glenmore Kent. " She felt he had a right to know notonly her brother's name, but also her own, if only for what he had done. "You might, of course, know him after all, " she concluded. "He has quitea number of acquaintances. "

"Kent, " said Van. To himself it was "Beth Kent" he was saying. "No, guess not. No such luck, but I hope you'll find him in the camp. "

"Do you think I may not?" She was just a trifle startled by thepossibility. 

He was grave for once. 

"Men come and go in a mining town, where everyone's unduly excited. Ifhe isn't on deck, then have you no one else? Have you any alternativeplan?"

"Why, no, " she confessed, her alarm increasing, "not unless Mr. Bostwickhas arrived and arranged our accommodations. "

"I wouldn't count on Searle, " drawled Van significantly. "He may have towalk. "

"Not across the awful desert?"

"If he goes around he'll be longer. "

"Why--but----" she gasped, "there is nothing to eat--no water--thereisn't anything on the desert, is there?--anywhere?"

He was looking intently into the deep brown depths of her eyes as heanswered:

"There's so little to eat that the chipmunks have to fetch in theirlunches. "

Beth continued to gaze upon him. If she noted the lights of laughterlying soberly subdued in his eyes, she also discerned something more, that affected her oddly. Despite the horseman's treatment of herescort--a treatment she confessed he had partially deserved--and despitethe lightness of his speeches, she felt certain of the depth of hisnature, convinced of the genuine earnestness of his purposes--the honestyand worth of his friendship. 

She knew she was tremendously indebted for all he had done and was doing, but aside from all that, in her heart of hearts she admired bravery, courage, and a dash of boldness more than anything else in the world. She was not yet certain, however, whether the man at her side was braveor merely reckless, courageous, or indifferent to danger, bold or merelyaudacious. She knew nothing about him whatsoever, nothing except he mustbe tired, lame, and bruised from exertions undertaken in her behalf. Ithad been a long, long day. She felt as if they had known each otheralways--and had always been friends. 

Her mind went back to the morning as if to an era of the past. Thethought of the convicts who had captured Bostwick aroused newapprehensions in her breast, though not for the man with the car. Someway Searle seemed strangely far away and dimmed in her regard. Shewas thinking of what she had overheard, back there at the Monte Cristomine. 

"This has been a trying day, " she said, apparently ignoring Van's lastobservation. "You have taken a great deal of trouble for--for us--and weappreciate it fully. "

Van said gravely: "Taking trouble is the only fun I have. "

"You laugh at everything, " she answered, "but isn't it really a seriousthing--a menace to everyone--having those convicts out of prison?"

"It isn't going to be a knitting-bee, rounding them up, " Van admitted. "And meantime they're going to be exacting of everyone they meet. "

She looked at him half seriously, but altogether brightly. 

"And what if they chance to meet you?"

"Oh, we'd exchange courtesies, I reckon. "

She had no intention of confessing how much she had overheard, but shewas tremendously interested--almost fearful for the man's safety, shehardly dared ask herself why. She approached her subject artfully. 

"Do you know them, then?"

"Well, yes, the leader--slightly, " he answered. "I sent him up formurder, stealing cattle, and robbing sluices. He was too annoying tohave around. "

"Oh! Then won't he feel ugly, resentful?" she inquired earnestly. "Won't he try to hunt you up--and pay you back?"

Van regarded her calmly. 

"He told me to expect my pay--if ever he escaped--and he's doubtless gothis check-book along. "

"His check-book?"

"Colt--forty-four, " Van drawled by way of explanation. 

She turned a trifle pale. 

"He'd shoot you on sight?"

"If he sighted me first. "

Her breath came hard. She realized that the quiet-seeming horseman ather side would kill a fellow-being--this convict, at least--as readily ashe might destroy a snake. 

"How long ago did you put him in jail?" she inquired. 

"Four years ago this summer. "

"Have you always lived here--out West?"

"I've lived every day I've been here, " he answered evasively. "Do I looklike a native?"

She laughed. "Oh, I don't know. We came here straight from New York, aweek ago, Elsa and I. Mr. Bostwick joined us two days later. I reallyknow nothing of the country at all. "

"New York, " he said, and relapsed into silent meditation. How far awayseemed old New Amsterdam! How long seemed the brief six years since hehad started forth with his youthful health, his strength, determination, boyish dreams, and small inheritance to build up a fortune in the West!What a mixture of sunshine and failure it had been! What glitteringhopes had lured him hither and yon in the mountains, where each greatgateway of adventure had charged its heavy toll!

He had lost practically all of his money; he had gained his all ofmanhood. He had suffered privation and hardship; he had known the vastcomfort of friends--true friends, as certain as the very heart in hisbreast to serve him to the end. 

Like a panoramic dream he beheld a swift procession of mine-and-cattlescenes troop past for swift review. He lived again whole months ofnights spent out alone beneath the sky, with the snow and the wind hurleddown upon him from a merciless firmament of bleakness. Once more hestumbled blindly forward in the desert--he and Gettysburg--perishing forwater, giving up their liquid souls to the horribly naked and insatiatesun. Again he toiled in the shaft of a mine till his back felt like acrackly thing of glass with each aching fissure going deeper. 

Once more the gold goddess beckoned with her smile, and fortune wasthere, almost in reach--the fortune that he and his partners had soughtso doggedly, so patiently--the fortune for which they had starved anddelved and suffered--only to see it vanish in the air as the sunshinewill vanish from a peak. 

Old hopes, like ghosts, went skulking by, vain charlatans, ashamed. Butfriendships stood about in every scene--bright presences that cast aroseate glow on all the tribulations of his life. And it seemed as if afailure here was half a failure only, after all. It had not robbed himeither of his youth, his strength, or a certain boyish credulity andtrust in all his kind. He still believed he should win his golden goal, and he loved the land that had tried him. 

His last, his biggest venture, the Monte Cristo mine was, however, gone--everything sold to meet the company debts. Nevertheless, he hadonce more purchased a claim, with all but his very last dollar in theworld, and he and his partners would soon be on the ground, assaultingthe stubborn adamant with powder, pick, and drill, in the fever of theminer's ceaseless dream. 

To-day, as he rode beside the girl, he wondered at it all--why he hadlabored so persistently. The faint, far-off shadow of a sweetheart, longsince left behind, failed to supply him a motive. She had grownimpatient, listened to a suitor more tangible than Van's absent self, andso, blamelessly, had faded from his scheme of hopes, leaving no more thana fragrance in his thoughts, with certainly no bitterness or anger. 

"Old New York, " he repeated, at the end of his reverie, and meeting oncemore the steady brown eyes of the girl with whom the fates had thrownhim, he fetched up promptly with the present. 

"How long has your brother been out here in Goldite?"

"About a month, " she answered. "He's been in the West for nearly a year, and wrote Mr. Bostwick to come. "

"Mr. Bostwick is doubtless a very particular friend of your family. "

"Why, yes, he's my---- That is, he _was_--he always has been a veryparticular friend--for several years, " she faltered suddenly turning red. "We haven't any family, Glen and I--and he's my half brother only--butwe're just like chums---and that was why I wanted to come. I expect tosurprise him. He doesn't know I'm here. "

Van was silent and she presently added:

"I hope you and Glen will be friends. I know how much he'll wish tothank you. "

He looked at her gravely. 

"I hope he won't. It's up to me to thank him. "

They had come to a road at the level of the valley--a desert valley, treeless, grassless, gray, and desolate. The sun was rapidly nearing therim of the mountains, as if to escape pursuit of a monstrous bank ofclouds. 

Van spurred his chestnut to a gallop, and the horses bearing the womenresponded with no further need of urging. 

CHAPTER VIII

A NIGHT'S EXPENSES

From Karrish to Goldite by the road was twenty-seven miles. There werefifteen mile of bottles by the way--all of them empty. A blind manwith a nose for glass could have smelled out the trail unerringlyacross that desert stretch. Karrish was the nearest town for a verygreat distance around. 

Over the road innumerable caravans were passing. Everything wasrushing to Goldite. There were horsemen, hurried persons on foot, menin carriages and autos, twenty-horse freight teams, and men on tinyburros. Nearly all were shedding bottles as they went. A waterlessland is not necessarily devoid of all manner of moisture. 

A dozen of the slowly laboring freight outfits were passed by Van andhis two companions. What engines of toil they represented! The tenpairs of sweating, straining animals seemed almost like some giantcaterpillar, harnessed to a burden on wheels. They always draggedthree wagons, two of which were huge gray hulks, incredibly heavy withgiant-powder, canned goods, bottled goods, picks, shovels, bedding, hay, great mining machinery, and house-hold articles. These wagonswere hitched entrain. The third wagon, termed a "trailer, " was smalland loaded merely with provisions for the teamster and the team. Thewhole thing, from end to end, beat up a stifling cloud of dust. 

The sun went down while Beth, Van, and Elsa were still five miles fromtheir goal. They rode as rapidly as possible. The horses, however, were jaded, and the way was slightly up grade. The twilight was brief. It descended abruptly from the western bank of clouds, by now as thickand dark as mud. Afar off shone the first faint light of the gold-campto which the three were riding. This glimmering ray was two miles outfrom the center of town. Goldite was spread in a circle four mileswide, and the most of it was isolated tents. 

The darkness shut down like a pall. A vivid, vicious bolt oflightning--a fiery serpent, overcharged with might--struck down uponthe mountain tops, pouring liquid flame upon the rocks. A sweepinggust of wind came raging down upon the town, hurling dust and gravel onthe travelers. 

Van rode ahead like a spirit of the storm. He knew the need for haste. Beth simply let her pony go. She was cramped and far too wearied foreffort. 

They were galloping now past the outskirts of the camp, the manyscattered tents of the men who were living on their claims. All theworld was a land of claims, staked off with tall white posts, likeghosts in the vanishing light. Ahead, a multitude of lights hadsuddenly broken on the travelers' vision, like a nearby constellationof stars. 

They rode into all of it, blazing lights, eager crowds upon thestreets, noise of atrocious music from the brilliant saloons, and rushof wind and dust, not a minute too soon. They had barely alighted andsurrendered their horses to a friend of Van's when the rain from thehilltops swooped upon the camp in a fury that seemed like an elementalthreat to sweep all the place, with its follies, hopes, and woes, itsexcitements, lawlessness, and struggles, from the face of the barrendesert world. 

Beth and her maid were lame and numb. Van could only hustle theminside a grocery-and-hardware store to save them from a drenching. Thestore was separated from a gambling-hall saloon by the flimsiest boardpartition. Odors of alcohol, confusion of voices, and calls of agamester came unimpeded to the women's senses, together with somemighty bad singing, accompanied lustily by strains and groans poundedfrom a ghastly piano. 

"Sit down, " said Van, inverting a tub at the feet of the wonderingwomen. "I'll see if I can rustle up your brother. "

He went out in the rain, dived impartially into the first of thecrowded saloons, was somewhat hilariously greeted by a score ofconvivial fellows, found no one who knew of young Glen Kent, andproceeded on to the next. 

The horseman was well and favorably known in all directions. He waseagerly cornered wheresoever he appeared by a lot of fellows who werefriends to little purpose, in an actual test. However, he clung to hismission with commendable tenacity of purpose, and kept upon his way. Thus he discovered at length, when he visited the bank--an institutionthat rarely closed before ten o'clock in the evening--that Kent hadbeen gone for the past two weeks, no one knew where, but somewhere outsouth, with a party. 

There was nothing to do after that but to look for fit apartments forthe gently reared girl and her maid. Hunting a needle in the oceanwould have been a somewhat similar task. Van went at once at thebusiness, with his customary spirit. He was presently informed therewas nothing resembling a room or a bed to be had in all the place. Ahundred men would walk the streets or sleep in chairs that night. Theone apartment suitable for two lone women to occupy had been securedthe previous day by "Plunger" Trask, an Eastern young man who would betthat grass was not green. 

Van searched for Trask and found him "cashing in" a lot of assortedchips, representing his winnings at a faro game at which he had been"bucking. "

"Hello, there, Van, " he said familiarly as the horseman touched him onthe shoulder. "Come and have a drink. "

"My teeth are floating now from drink, " said Van, "but I'll takesomething else if you say so. I want your apartments for the night. "

"Say, wire me!" answered the plunger. "That's the cutest little bunchof nerve I ever saw off the Bowery! How much money have you got inyour clothes?"

"About forty-five dollars, " said Van. "Is it good?"

"Not as a price, but O. K. In a flip, " said Trask, with an itch forschemes of chance. "I'll throw you the dice, my room against yourforty-five--and the devil take your luck if you win!"

Van agreed. They borrowed a box of dice, threw three times apiece--andthe horseman paid over his money. 

"There you are, old man, " said the plunger cheerfully. "Satisfied, Ihope. "

"Not quite, " said Van. "I'll owe you forty-five more and throw youagain. "

"Right ho!" responded Trask. "Go as far as you like. "

They shook again. Van lost as before. He borrowed again, undiscouraged. For the third time they cast the little cubes ofuncertainty and this time Van actually won. The room was his todispose of as he pleased. It had cost him ninety dollars for the night. 

In his pocket he had cautiously retained a little money--seven andone-half dollars, to be accurate. He returned to Beth, informed her ofall he had discovered concerning her brother, took herself and Elsa todine in the camp's one presentable restaurant, paid nearly sevendollars for the meal, and gave what remained to the waiter. 

Then Beth, who had never in her life been so utterly exhausted, resigned herself to Elsa's care, bade Van good-night, and left himstanding in the rain before the door, gallant, and smiling to the end. 

CHAPTER IX

PROGRESS AND SALT

Goldite, by the light of day, presented a wonderful spectacle. It wasa mining camp positively crystallizing into being before the very eyesof all beholders. It was nearly all tents and canvas structures--aheterogeneous mixture of incompleteness and modernity to which thetelegraph wires had already been strung from the outside world. It hadno fair supply of water, but it did have a newspaper, issued once aweek. 

A dozen new buildings, flimsy, cheap affairs, were growing liketoadstools, day and night. Several brick buildings, and shacks of mud, were rising side by side. Everywhere the scene was one of crowds, activity, and hurry. Thousands of men were in the one straight street, a roughly dressed, excited throng, gold-bitten, eager, and open-handed. Hundreds of mules and horses, a few bewildered cows, herds of greatwagons, buggies, heaps of household goods, and trunks, withfortifications of baled hay and grain, were crowded into two greatcorrals, where dusty teamsters hastened hotly about, amidst heaps ofdusty harness, sacks of precious ore and the feed troughs for thebeasts. 

Beth had slept profoundly, despite the all-night plague of noises, penetrating vividly through the shell-like walls of the house. She wasout with Elsa at an early hour, amazingly refreshed and absorbinglyinterested in all she heard and saw. The sky was clear, but a chillwind blew down from the mountains, flapping canvas walls in alldirections. 

The building wherein the women had rested was a wooden lodging house, set barely back from the one business street of the camp. Next doorwas a small, squat domicile constructed of bottles and mud. Thebottles were laid in the "mortar" with their ends protruding. Near by, at the rear of a prosperous saloon, was a pyramid of empty bottles, fully ten feet high--enough to build a little church. 

Drawn onward by the novelty of all the scene, Beth crossed the mainstreet--already teeming with horses, wagons, and men--and proceededover towards a barren hill, followed demurely by her maid. The hillwas like a torn-up battlefield, trenched, and piled with earthworks ofdefense, for man the impetuous had already flung up great gray dumps ofrock, broken and wrenched from the bulk of the slope, where he questedfor gleaming yellow metal. He had ripped out the adamant--the matrixof the gold--for as far as Beth could see. Like ant-heaps oftremendous dimensions stood these monuments of toil--rock-writings, telling of the heat and desire, the madness of man to be rich. 

The world about was one of rocks and treeless ridges, spewed from somevast volcanic forge of ages past. It was all a hard, gray, adamantineworld, unlovely and severe--a huge old gold furnace, minus heat orfire, lying neglected in a universe of mountains that might have been aworkshop in the ancient days when Titans wrought their arts upon theearth. 

Beth gazed upon it all in wonder not unmingled with awe. What a placeit was for man to live and wage his puny battles! Yet the fever of allof it, rising in her veins, made her eager already to partake of thedream, the excitement that made mere gold-slaves of the men who hadcome here compelling this forbidding place to yield up some measure ofcomfort and become in a manner their home. 

Van, in the meanwhile, having spent the time till midnight on his feet, and the small hours asleep on a bale of hay, was early abroad, engagedin various directions. He first proceeded to the largest general storein the camp and ordered a generous bill of supplies to be sent to hisnewest claim. Next he arranged with a friendly teamster for the promptreturn of the two borrowed horses on which Beth and her maid had cometo camp. Then, on his way to an assayer's office, where samples ofrock from the claim in question had been left for the test of fire, heencountered a homely, little, dried-up woman who was scooting aboutfrom store to store with astonishing celerity of motion. 

"Tottering angels!" said he. "Mrs. Dick!"

"Hello--just a minute, " said the lively little woman, and she divedinside the newest building and was out almost immediately with a greatsack of plunder that she jerked about with most diverting energy. 

"Here, fetch this down to the house, " she demanded imperiously. "What's the good of my finding you here in Goldite if you don't donothing for your country?"

Van shouldered the sack. 

"What are you doing here anyhow?" said he, "--up before breakfast andbusy as a hen scratching for one chicken. "

"Come on, " she answered, starting briskly towards a new white building, off the main thoroughfare, eastward. "I live here--start myboarding-house today. I'm going to get rich. Every room's furnishedand every bed wanted as fast as I can make 'em up. Have you had yourbreakfast?"

"Say, you're my Indian, " answered Van. "I've got you two customersalready. You've got to take them in and give them your best if youturn someone else inside out to do it. "

Mrs. Dick paused suddenly. 

"Bronson Van Buren! You're stuck on some woman at last!"

"At last?" said Van. "Haven't I always been stuck after you?"

Mrs. Dick resumed her brisk locomotion. 

"Snakes alive!" she concluded explosively. "She's respectable, ofcourse? But you said two. Now see here, Van, no Mormon games with me!"

"Her _maid_--it's her maid that's with her, " Van explained. "Don'tjump down my throat till I grease it. "

"Her maid!" Mrs. Dick said no more as to that. The way she said itwas enough. They had come to the door of her newly finished house, aclean, home-like place from which a fragrance of preparing breakfastflowed like a ravishing nectar. "Where are they now?" she demandedimpatiently. "Wherever they are it ain't fit for a horse! Why don'tyou go and fetch 'em?"

Van put the bag inside the door, then his hands on Mrs. Dick'sshoulders. 

"I'll bet your mother was a little red firecracker and your father abottle of seltzer, " he said. Then off he went for Beth. 

She was not, of course, at "home" when he arrived at the place he hadfound the previous evening. Disturbed for a moment by her absence, hepresently discerned her, off there westward on the hill from which shewas making a survey of the camp. 

Three minutes after he was climbing up the slope and she turned andlooked downward upon him. 

"By heavens!" he said beneath his breath, "--what beauty!"

The breeze was molding her dress upon her rounded form till she seemedlike the statue of a goddess--a goddess of freedom, loveliness, andjoy, sculptured in the living flesh--a figure vibrant with glowinghealth and youth, startlingly set in the desert's gray austerity. Withthe sunlight flinging its gold and riches upon her, what a marvel ofcolor she presented!--such creamy white and changing rose-tints in hercheeks--such a wonderful brown in her hair and eyes--such crimson oflips that parted in a smile over even little jewels of teeth! And shesmiled on the horseman, tall, and active, coming to find her on thehill. 

"Good morning!" she cried. "Oh, isn't it wonderful--so big, and bare, and _clean_!"

Van smiled. 

"It's a hungry-looking country to me--looks as if it has eaten all thetrees. If it makes you think of breakfast, or just plain coffee androlls, I've found a place I hope you'll like, with a friend I didn'tknow was here. "

"You are very kind, I'm sure, " she said. "I'm afraid we're a greatdeal of trouble. "

"That's what women were made for, " he answered her frankly, a bright, dancing light in his eyes. "They couldn't help it if they would, and Iguess they wouldn't if they could. "

"Oh, indeed?" She shot him a quick glance, half a challenge. "I_guess_ if you don't mind we won't go to the place you've found, forbreakfast, this morning. "

"You'd better guess again, " he answered, and taking her arm, in amasterful way that bereft her of the power of speech or resistance, hemarched her briskly down the slope and straight towards Mrs. Dick's. 

"Thank your stars you've struck a place like this, " he said. "If youdon't I'll have to thank them for you. "

"Perhaps I ought to thank you first, " she ventured smilingly. It wouldhave seemed absurd to resent his boyish ways. 

"You may, " he said, "when I get to be one of your stars. "

"Oh, really? Why defer mere thanks _indefinitely_?"

"It won't be indefinitely, and besides, thanks will keep--and breakfastwon't. "

He entered the house, with Beth and her maid humbly trailing at hisheels. Mrs. Dick came bustling from the kitchen like a busy littleant. Van introduced his charges briefly. Mrs. Dick shook hands withthem both. 

"Well!" she said, "I like you after all! And it's lucky I do, for if Ididn't I don't know's I should take you or not, even if Van did say Ihad to. "

Van took her by the shoulders and shook her boyishly. 

"You'd take a stick of dynamite and a house afire, both in one hand, ifI said so, " he announced. "Now don't get hostile. "

"Well--I s'pose I would, " agreed Mrs. Dick. She added to Beth: "Ain'the the dickens and all? Just regular brute strength. Come rightupstairs till I show you where you're put. I've turned off two men tolet you have the best room in the house. "

Beth had to smile. She had never felt so helpless in her life--or soamused. She followed Mrs. Dick obediently, finding the two-bed roomabove to be a bright, new-smelling apartment of acceptable size andsituation. In answer to a score of rapid-fire questions on the part ofMrs. Dick, she imparted as much as Van already knew concerning herselfand her quest. 

Mrs. Dick became her friend forthwith, then hastened downstairs to thekitchen. Van and Beth presently took breakfast together, while Elsa, with a borrowed needle and thread, was busied with some minor repairingof garments roughly used the day before. Other boarders and lodgers ofthe house had already eaten and gone, to resume their swirl in themaelstrom of the camp. 

For a time the two thus left alone in the dining-room appeased theirappetites in silence. Van watched the face of the girl for a time andfinally spoke. 

"I'll let you know whatever I hear about your brother, if there is anymore to hear. Meantime you'll have to remain here and wait. "

She was silent for a moment, reflecting on, the situation. 

"You took my suitcase away from Mr. Bostwick, you'll remember, " shesaid, "and left it where we got the horses. "

"It will be here to-day, " he answered. "I arranged for that with Dave. "

"Oh. But of course you cannot tell when Mr. Bostwick may appear. "

"His movements couldn't be arranged so conveniently, otherwise hewouldn't appear at all. "

She glanced at him, startled. 

"Not come at all? But I need him! Besides, he's my---- I expect himto go and find my brother. And the trunk checks are all in hispocket--wait!--no they're not, they're in my suitcase after all. "

"You're in luck, " he assured her blandly, "for Searle has doubtlesslost all his pockets. "

"Lost his pockets?" she echoed. "Perhaps you mean the convicts tookthem--took his clothing--everything he had. "

"Everything except his pleasant manner, " Van agreed. "They have plentyof that of their own. "

She was lost for a moment in reflection. 

"Poor Searle! Poor Mr. Bostwick!"

Van drank the last of his coffee. 

"Was Searle the only man you knew in all New York?"

She colored. "Certainly not. Of course not. Why do you ask such aquestion?"

"I was trying to understand the situation, but I give it up. " Helooked in her eyes with mock gravity, and she colored. 

She understood precisely what he meant--the situation between herselfand Bostwick, to whom, she feared, she had half confessed herselfengaged. She started three times to make a reply, but halted eachanswer for a better. 

"You don't like Mr. Bostwick, " she finally observed. 

Van told her gravely: "I like him like the old woman kept tavern. "

She could not entirely repress a smile. 

"And how did she keep it--the tavern?"

"Like hell, " said Van. He rose to go, adding; "You like him about thatway yourself--since yesterday. "

Her eyes had been sparkling, but now they snapped. 

"Why--how can you speak so rudely? You know that isn't true! You knowI like--admire Mr. Bost---- You haven't any right to say a thing likethat--no matter what you may have done for me!"

She too had risen. She faced him glowingly. 

He suddenly took both her hands and held them in a firm, warm claspfrom which there could be no escape. 

"Beth, " he said audaciously, "you are never going to marry that man. "

She was struggling vainly to be free. Her face was crimson. 

"Let me go!" she demanded. "Mr. Van--you let me go! I don't see howyou dare to say a thing like that. I don't know why----"

"You can't marry Searle, " he interrupted, "because you are going tomarry me. "

He raised her hands to his lips and kissed them both. 

"Be back by and by, " he added, and off he went, through the kitchen, leaving Beth by the table speechless, burning and confused, with ahundred wild emotions in her heart. 

He continued out at the rear of the place, where little Mrs. Dick wasvaliantly tugging at two large buckets of water. He relieved her ofthe burden. 

"Say, Priscilla, " he drawled, "if a smoke-faced Easterner comes aroundhere while I'm gone, looking for--you know--Miss Kent, remember hecan't have a room in your house if he offers a million and walks on hishands and prays in thirteen languages. "

Little Mrs. Dick glanced up at him shrewdly. 

"Have you got it as bad as that? Snakes alive! All right, I guessI'll remember. "

"Be good, " said Van, and off he went to the assayer's shop for which hehad started before. 

The assayer glanced up briefly. He was busy at a bucking-board, where, with energetic application of a very heavy weight, on the end of ahandle, he was grinding up a lot of dusty ore. 

"Greeting, Van, " said he. "Come in. "

Van shook his outstretched hand. 

"I thought I'd like to see those results, " he said, "--that rock Ifetched you last, remember? You thought you could finish the batchlast week. Gold rock from the 'See Saw' claim that I bought threeweeks ago. "

"Yes, oh yes. Now what did I do with---- Finished 'em up and put 'emaway somewhere, " said the assayer, dusting his hands and moving towardshis desk. "Such a lot of stuff's been coming in--here they are, Ireckon. " He drew a half dozen small printed forms from a cavity in thedesk, glanced them over briefly and handed the lot to Van. "Nothingdoing. Pretty good rock for building purposes. "

"Nothing doing?" echoed Van incredulously, staring at the assay recordswhich showed in merciless bluntness that six different samples ofreputed ore had proved to be absolutely worthless. "The samples youassayed first showed from ten to one hundred and fifty dollars to theton, in gold. "

"What's that got to do with this?" inquired the master of acids andfire. "You don't mean to say----"

"Do with it, man? It all came out of the same identical prospect, " Vaninterrupted. "These were later samples than the others, that's all. "

The assayer glanced over his shoulder at the hope-destroying slips. 

"The 'See Saw' claim, " he said perfunctorily. "You bought it, Van, whofrom?"

"From Selwyn Briggs. "

"Sorry, " said the assayer briefly. "H'm! That Briggs!"

"You don't mean---- It couldn't have been salted on me!" Van declared. "I took my own samples, broke down a new face purposely, sacked it allmyself--and sealed the sacks. No one touched those sacks till youbroke the seals in this office. He couldn't have salted me, Frank. What possible chance----"

The assayer went to a shelf, took down a small canvas bag, glanced at amark that identified it as one in which samples of "See Saw" rock hadarrived for the former assay, and turned it inside out. 

"Once in a while I've heard of a cute one squirting a sharp syringefull of chloride of gold on worthless rock, through the meshes of thecanvas, even after the samples were sealed, " he imparted quietly. "This sack looks to me like some I've encountered before that werepretty rich in gold. I'll assay the cloth if you like. "

Van took the sack in his hand, examined it silently, then glanced asbefore at his papers. 

"Salted--by that lump of a Briggs!" His lip was curved in a mirthlesssmile. "I guess I've got it in the neck all right. These last samplestell the real story. " He slapped the papers across his hand, then torethem up in tiny bits and threw them on the floor. "

"Sorry, old man, " said the assayer, as before. "Hope you didn't payhim much for the claim. "

"Not much, " said Van. "All I had--and some of it borrowed money. "

The assayer puckered up his mouth. 

"Briggs has skipped--gone East. "

"I know. Well--all in a lifetime, I suppose. Pay you, Frank, when Ican. "

"That's all right, " his friend assured him. "Forget it if you like. "

Van started off, but returned. 

"Say, Frank, " he said, "don't hawk this around. It's bad enough for meto laugh at myself. I don't want the chorus joining in. "

"I'm your clam, " said Frank. "So long, and better luck!"

CHAPTER X

THE LAUGHING WATER CLAIM

A man who lives by uncertainties has a singular habit of mind. He isever lured forward by hopes and dreams that overlap each other as hegoes. While the scheme in hand is proving hopeless, day by day, hegrasps at another, just ahead, and draws himself onward towards thegilded goal, forgetful of the trickery of all those other schemesbehind, that were equally bright in their day. 

Van had relinquished all hold on the golden dream once dangled beforehim by the Monte Cristo mine, to lay strong hands on the promisevouchsafed by the "See Saw" claim which he had purchased. As he walkedaway from the assayer's shop he felt his hands absolutely empty. Forthe very first time in at least four years he had no blinding glitterbefore his vision to entice him to feverish endeavor. He was a dreamerwith no dreams, a miner without a mine. 

He felt chagrined, humiliated. After all his time spent here in theworld's most prodigious laboratory of minerals, he had purchased asalted mine! A sharper man, that sad-faced, half-sick Selwyn Briggs, had actually trimmed him like this!

Salted! And he was broke. Well, what was the next thing to do? Hethought of the fine large bill of goods, engaged for himself andpartners to take to the "See Saw" claim. It made him smile. But hewould not rescind the order--for a while. His partners, with hisworldly goods, the Chinese cook and all the household, save Cayuse, would doubtless arrive by noon. He and they had to eat; they had tolive. Also they had to mine, for they knew nothing else by way ofoccupation. They must somehow get hold of some sort of claim, and goon with their round of hopes and toil. They had never been so utterlybereft--so outcast by the goddess of fortune--since they had throwntheir lots together. 

He dreaded the thought of meeting various acquaintances here incamp--the friends to whom he had said he was going that day to the "SeeSaw" property, far over the Mahogany range, near the Indianreservation. He determined to go. Perhaps the shack and theshaft-house on the claim, with the windlass and tools included byBriggs in the bill of sale, might fetch a few odd dollars. 

Slowly down the street he went to the hay-yard where his pony wasstabled. He met a water man, halting on his rounds at the front of aneat canvas dwelling. The man had three large barrels on a wagon, eachfull of muddy, brackish water. A long piece of hose was thrust intoone, its other end dangled out behind. 

From the tent emerged a woman with her buckets. The water man placedthe hose-end to his mouth, applied a lusty suction, and the water camegushing forth. He filled both receptacles, collected the price, andthen drove on to the next. 

Sardonically Van reflected that even the fine little stream of water onhis claim, in a land where water was so terribly scarce, was absolutelyworthless as an asset. It was over a mountain ridge of such tremendousheight that it might as well have been in the forests of Maine. 

Despite the utter hopelessness of his present situation, his spiritswere not depressed. Gettysburg, he reflected, was a genius for bumpinginto queer old prospectors--relics of the days of forty-nine, stilleagerly pursuing their _ignis fatuous_ of gold--and from some suchdesert wanderer he would doubtless soon pick up a claim. There wasnothing like putting Gettysburg upon the scent. 

Van wrote a note to his partners. 

"Dear Fellow Mourners:

"Have just discovered a joke. I was salted on the 'See Saw' property. Our pipe dream is defunct. Have gone over to lay out remains. If youfind any oldtimers who have just discovered some lost bonanza, takethem into camp. Don't get drunk, get busy. Be back a little afternoon. "

This he left with the hay-yard man where his partners would stop whenthey arrived. Mounted on Suvy, his outlaw of the day before, he rodefrom Goldite joyously. After all, what was the odds? He had been nobetter off than now at least a hundred times. At the worst he stillhad his partners and his horse, a breakfast aboard, and a mountainahead to climb. 

Indeed, at the light of friendship in his broncho's eyes, as well as atthe pony's neigh of welcome, back there at the yard, he had felt aboundless pleasure in his veins. He patted the chestnut's neck, in hisrough, brusque way of companionship, and the horse fairly quivered withpleasure. 

For nearly two hours the willing animal went zig-zagging up the rockyslopes. The day was warming; the sun was a naked disk of fire. It washard climbing. Van had chosen the shorter, steeper way across therange. From time to time, where the barren ascent was exceptionallysevere, he swung from the saddle and led the broncho on, to mountfurther up as before. 

Thus they came in time to a zone of change, over one of the ridges, aregion where rocks and ugliness gave way to a growth of brush andstunted trees. These were the outposts, ragged, dwarfed, and warped, of a finer growth beyond. 

Fifteen miles away, down between the hills, flowed a tortuous stream, by courtesy called a river. It sometimes rose in a turgid flood, butmore often it sank and delivered up its ghost to such an extent that aman could have held it in his hat. Nevertheless some greeneryflourished on its banks. 

When Van at last could oversee the vast, unpeopled lands of the PiuteIndian reservation, near the boundary of which his salted claim hadbeen staked, he had only a mile or so to ride, and all the way downhill. 

He came to the property by eleven o'clock of the morning. He lookedabout reflectively. The rough board cabin and the rougher shaft-housewere scarcely worth knocking down for lumber. There, on the big, barren dike, were several tunnels and prospects, in addition to theshaft, all "workings" that Briggs had opened up in his labors on theledge. They were mere yawning mockeries of mining, but at least hadserved a charlatan's requirements. A few tools lay about, abominablyneglected. 

The location was rather attractive, on the whole. The clear stream ofwater had coaxed a few quaking aspens and alders into being, among thestunted evergreens. Grass lay greenly along the bank, a charmingrelief to the eye. The sandy soil was almost level in the narrow cove, which was snugly surrounded by hills, except at the lower extremity, where the brook tumbled down a wide ravine. 

Van, on his horse, gazed over towards the Indian reservation idly. Howvain, in all likelihood, were the wonderful tales of gold ledges lyingwithin its prohibited borders. What a madness was brewing in the campsall around as the day for the reservation opening rapidly approached!How they would swarm across its hills and valleys--those gold-seekingmen! What a scramble it would be, and all for--what?

There were tales in plenty of men who had secretly prospected here onthis forbidden land, and marked down wonderful treasures. Van lookedat his salted possessions. What a chance for an orgie of salting thereservation claims would afford!

With his pony finally secured to a tree near at hand, the horsemanwalked slowly about. A gold pan lay rusting, half filled with rock anddirt, by a bench before the cabin. It was well worth cleaning andtaking away, together with some of the picks, drills, and hammers. 

He carried it over to the brook. There he knelt and washed it out, only to find it far more rusted than it had at first appeared. Hescooped it full of the nearest gravel and scoured it roughly with hishands. Three times he repeated this process, washing it out in thecreek. 

Ready to rise with it, cleaned at last, he caught up a shallow film ofwater, flirted it about with a rotary motion, to sluice out the lastbit of stubborn dross, then paused to stare in unbelief at a few brightparticles down at the edge, washed free of all the gravel. 

Incredulous and not in the least excited, he drew a small glass fromhas pocket and held it on the specks. There could be no doubt of theirnature. They were gold. 

Interested, but doubting the importance of his find, Van pawed up halfa pan full of gravel and dipped the receptacle full of water. Thenstirring the sand and stuff with his hand, he panned it carefully. 

The result at the end was such a string of colors as he had neverwashed in all his wide experience. To make a superficial prospect ofthe claim he proceeded to pan from a dozen different places in thecove, and in every instance got an exceptional showing of coarse, yellow gold, with which the gravel abounded. 

He knelt motionless at last, beside the stream, singularly unperturbed, despite the importance of his find. Briggs had slipped up, absolutely, on the biggest thing in many miles around, by salting and selling aquartz claim here to a man with a modest sum of money. 

The cove was a placer claim, rich as mud in gold, and with everythingneeded at hand. 

Then and there the name of the property was changed from the "See Saw"to the "Laughing Water" claim. 

CHAPTER XI

ALGY STIRS UP TROUBLE

Bostwick arrived in Goldite at three in the afternoon, dressed inprison clothes. He came on a freight wagon, the deliberate locomotionof which had provided ample time for his wrath to accumulate andsimmer. His car was forty miles away, empty of gasolene, stripped ofall useful accessories, and abandoned where the convicts had compelledhim to drive them in their flight. 

A blacker face than his appeared, with anger and a stubble of beardupon it, could not have been readily discovered. His story had easilyoutstripped him, and duly amused the camp, so that now, as he rodealong the busy street, in a stream of lesser vehicles, autos, and dustyhorsemen, arriving by two confluent roads, he was angered more and moreby the grins and ribald pleasantries bestowed by the throngs in theroad. 

To complicate matters already sufficiently aggravating, Gettysburg, Napoleon C. Blink, and Algy, the Chinese cook, from the Monte Cristomine, now swung into line from the northwest road, riding on horses andburros. They were leading three small pack animals, loaded with alltheir earthly plunder. 

The freight team halted and a crowd began to congregate. Bostwick wasdescending just as the pack-train was passing through the narrow wayleft by the crowd. His foot struck one of the loaded burros in theeye. The animal staggered over against the wall of men, trampling onsomebody's feet. Somebody yelled and cursed vehemently, stepping onsomebody else. A small-sized panic and melee ensued forthwith. Moreof the animals took alarm, and Algy was frightened half to death. Hispony, a wall-eyed, half-witted brute, stampeded in the crowd. ThenAlgy was presently in trouble. 

There had been no Chinese in Goldite camp, largely on account of raceprejudice engendered and fostered by the working men, who stillmaintained the old Californian hatred against the industriousCelestials. In the mob, unfortunately near the center of confusion, was a half-drunken miner, rancorous as poison. He was somewhat roughlyjostled by the press escaping Algy's pony. 

"Ye blank, blank chink--I'll fix ye fer that!" he bawled at the top ofhis voice, and heaving his fellow white men right and left he laidvicious hands on the helpless cook and, dragging him down, went at himin savage brutality. 

"Belay there, you son of a shellfish!" yelled Napoleon, dismounting andmadly attempting to push real men away. "I'll smash in yourpilot-house! I'll---- Leave me git in there to Algy!"

Gettysburg, too, was on the ground. He, Bostwick, and a hundred menwere madly crowded in together, where two or three were pushing backthe throng and yelling to Algy to fight. 

Algy was fighting. He was also spouting most awful Chinese oaths, sufficient to warp an ordinary spine and wither a common person'slimbs. He kicked and scratched like a badger. But the miner was anengine of destruction. He was aggravated to a mood of gory slaughter. He broke the Chinaman's arm, almost at once, with some viciouslydiabolical maneuver and leaped upon him in fury. 

In upon this scene of yelling, cursing, and fighting Van rodeunannounced. He saw the crowd increasing rapidly, as saloons, stores, hay-yard, bank, and places of lodging poured out a curious army, mostlymen, with a few scattered women among them--all surging eagerly forward. 

Algy, meantime, in a spasm of pain and activity, struggled to his feetfrom the dust and attempted to make his escape. Van no more thanbeheld him that he leaped from his horse and broke his way into thering. 

When he laid his hand on the miner's collar it appeared as if thatindividual would be suddenly jerked apart. Algy went down in collapse. 

"Why don't you pick on a man of your color?"

Van demanded, and he flung the miner headlong to the ground. 

A hundred lusty citizens shouted their applause. 

Little Napoleon broke his way to the center. Gettysburg was justbehind him. Van was about to kneel on the ground and lift hisprostrate cook when someone bawled out a warning. 

He wheeled instantly. The angered miner, up, with a gun in hand, waslurching in closer to shoot. He got no chance, even to level theweapon. Van was upon him like a panther. The gun went up and wasfired in the air, and then was hurled down under foot. 

Two things happened then together. The sheriff arrived to arrest thedrunken miner, and a woman pushed her way through the press. 

"Van!" she cried. "Van--oh, Van!"

He was busy assisting his partners to escort poor Algy away. He notedthe woman as she parted the crowd. He was barely in time to fend heroff from flinging herself in his arms. 

"Oh, Van!" she repeated wildly. "I thought you was goin' to git itsure!"

"Don't bother me, Queenie, " he answered, annoyed, and adding toGettysburg, "Take him to Charlie's, " he turned at once to his broncho, mounted actively, and began to round up the scattered animals broughtinto camp by his partners. 

He had barely ridden clear of the crowd when his glance was caught by afigure off to the left. 

It was Beth. She was standing on a packing case, where the surgingdisorder had sent her. She had seen it all, the fight, his arrival, and the woman who would have clasped him in her arms. 

Her face was flushed. She avoided his gaze and turned to descend tothe walk. Then Bostwick, in his convict suit, stepped actively forwardto meet her. 

Van saw the look of surprise in her face, at beholding the man in thisattire. She recoiled, despite herself, then held forth her hand forhis aid. Bostwick took it, assisted her down, and they hastily madetheir escape. 

CHAPTER XII

BOSTWICK LOSES GROUND

The one retreat for Beth was the house where she was lodging. She wentthere at once, briefly explaining to Bostwick on the way how it chancedshe had come the day before. What had happened to himself she alreadyknew. 

Bostwick was a thoroughly angered man. He had seen the horseman in thefight and had hoped to see him slain. To find Beth safe and evencheerful here annoyed him exceedingly. 

"Have you lodged a complaint--done anything to have this fellowarrested?" he demanded, alluding to Van. "Have you reported what wasdone to me?"

"Why, no, " said Beth. "What's the use? He did it all in kindness, after all. "

"Kindness!"

"Of a sort--a rough sort, perhaps, but genuine--a kindness to me--andElsa, " she answered, flushing rosily. "He saved me from----" shelooked at the convict garb upon him, "--from a disagreeable experience, I'm sure, and secured me the very best accommodations in the town. "

They had almost come to her lodgings. Bostwick halted in the road, hisgun-metal jaw protruding formidably. 

"You haven't already begun to admire this ruffian--glorify thisoutlaw?" he growled, "--after what he did to me?"

"Don't stop to discuss it here, " she answered, beholding Mrs. Dick atthe front of the house. "I haven't had time to do anything. You mustmanage to change your clothes. "

"I'll have my reckoning with your friend, " he assured her angrily. "Have you engaged a suite for me?"

They had come to the door of the house. Beth beheld the look ofamazement, suspicion, and repugnance on the face of Mrs. Dick, and herface burned red once more. 

"Oh, Mrs. Dick, " she said, "this is Mr. Bostwick, of whom I spoke. " Shehad told of Bostwick's capture by the convicts. "Do you think youcould find him a room?"

"A room? I want a suite--two rooms at least, " said Bostwickaggressively. "Is this a first-class place?"

"It ain't no regular heaven, and I ain't no regular Mrs. Saint Peter, "answered Mrs. Dick with considerable heat, irritated by Bostwick'spersonality and recognizing in him Van's "smoke-faced Easterner. " Sheadded crisply: "So you might as well vamoose the ranch, fer I couldn'teven put you in the shed. "

"But I've got to have accommodations!" insisted Bostwick. "I preferthem where my fiancée--where Miss Kent is stopping. I'm sure you canmanage it someway--let someone go. The price is no object to me. "

"I don't want you that bad, " said Mrs. Dick frankly. "I said no andI'm too busy to say it again. "

She bustled off with her ant-like celerity, followed by Bostwick'sscowls. 

"You'll have to give up your apartments here, " he said to Beth. "I'llfind something better at once. "

"Thank you, I'm very well satisfied, " said Beth. "You'll find thistown quite overcrowded. "

"You mean you propose to stay here in spite of my wishes?"

"Please don't wish anything absurd, " she answered. "This is really noplace for fastidious choosing--and I am very comfortable. "

A lanky youth, with a suitcase and three leather bags, came shufflingaround the corner and dropped down his load. 

"Van told me to bring 'em here with his--something I don't remember, "imparted the youth. "That's all, " and he grinned and departed. 

Bostwick glowered, less pleased than before. 

"That fellow, I presume. He evidently knows where you are stopping. "

Beth was beginning to feel annoyed and somewhat defiant. She had neverdreamed this man could appear so repellant as now, with his stubble ofbeard and this convict garb upon him. She met his glance coldly. 

"He found me the place. I am considerably in his obligation. "

Bostwick's face grew blacker. 

"Obligation? Why don't you admit at once you admire the fellow?--orsomething more. By God! I've endured about as much----"

"Mr. Bostwick!" she interrupted. She added more quietly: "You've beenvery much aggravated. I'm sorry. Now please go somewhere and changeyour clothing. "

"Aggravated?" he echoed. "You ought to know what he is, by instinct. You must have seen him in a common street brawl! You must have seenthat woman--that red-light night-hawk throwing herself in his arms. And to think that you--with Glenmore in town---- Why isn't yourbrother here with you?"

Beth was smarting. The sense of mortification she had felt at thesight of that woman in the street with Van, coupled with the sheeraudacity of his conduct towards herself that morning, had alreadysufficiently shamed her. She refused, however, to discuss such aquestion with Bostwick. 

"Glen isn't here, " she answered coldly. "I trust you will soon beenabled to find him--then--we can go. "

"Not here?" repeated Bostwick. "Where is he, then?"

"Somewhere out in another camp--or mining place--or something. Nowplease go and dress. We can talk it over later. "

"This is abominable of Glen, " said Bostwick. "Is McCoppet in town?"

She looked her surprise. "McCoppet?"

"You don't know him, of course, " he hastened to say. "I shall try tofind him at once. " He turned to go, beheld her luggage, and added: "Isthere anyone to take up your things?"

She could not bear to have him enter her apartment in this awful prisoncostume. 

"Oh, yes, " she answered. "You needn't be bothered with the bags. "

"Very well. I shall soon return. " He departed at once, his impatiencesuddenly increased by the thought of seeking out McCoppet. 

Beth watched him going. A sickening sense of revulsion invaded all hernature. And when her thoughts, like lawless rebels, stole guiltily toVan, she might almost have boxed her own tingling ears in sheervexation. 

She entered the house, summoned Elsa from her room, and had the luggagecarried to their quarters. Then she opened her case, removed somedainty finery, and vaguely wondered if the horseman would like her inold lavender. 

Van, in the meantime, had been busy at the hay-yard known as Charlie's. Not only had Algy's arm been broken, by the bully in the fight, but hehad likewise been seriously mauled and beaten. His head had been cut, he was hurt internally. A doctor, immediately summoned by thehorseman, had set the fractured member. Algy had then been put to bedin a tent that was pitched in the yard where the horses, mules, cows, pyramids of merchandise, and teamsters were thicker than flies onmolasses. 

Gettysburg and Napoleon, quietly informed by Van of the latest turn oftheir fortune, were wholly unexcited by the news. The attack on Algy, however, had acted potently upon them. They started to get drunk andachieved half a load before Van could herd them back to camp. 

Napoleon was not only partially submerged when Van effected hiscapture; he was also shaved. Van looked him over critically. 

"Nap, " he said, "what does this mean?--you wasting money on your face?"

Napoleon drunk became a stutterer, who whistled between his dischargesof seltzer. 

"Wheresh that little g-g-g-(whistle) girl?" he answered, "--lit-tleD-d-d-d-(whistle) Dutch one that looksh like--looksh like--quoth ther-r-r-r-(whistle) raven--NEVER MORE!"

Van divined that this description was intended to indicate Elsa. 

"Gone back to China, " said he. "That shave of yours is wasted on thedesert air. "

Gettysburg, whose intellect was top heavy, had the singular habit, at atime like this, of removing his crockery eye and holding it firmly inhis fist, to guard it from possible destruction. He stared uncertainlyat both his companions. 

"China!" said he tragically. "China?"

"Hold on, now, Gett, " admonished Van, steering his tall companion as aman might steer a ladder, "you don't break out in the woman line againor there's going to be some concentrated anarchy in camp. "

"No, Van, no--now honest, no woman, " said Gettysburg in a confidentialmurmur. "I had my woman eye took out the last time I went down to'Frisco. "

"You're a l-l-l-(whistle) liar!" ejaculated Napoleon. 

"What!" Gettysburg fairly shrieked. 

"Metaphorical speakin'--meta phor-f-f-f-f-f-(whistle) phoricalspeakin', " Napoleon hastened to explain. "Metaphor-f-f-f-(whistle)-phorical means you don't reallym-m-m-m-(whistle) mean what you say--means--quoth ther-r-r-r-r-(whistle) raven--NEVER MORE!"

Van said: "If you two old idiots don't do the lion and the lamb actpretty pronto I'll send you both to the poor house. "

They had entered the hay-yard, among the mules and horses. Gettysburgpromptly reached down, laid hold of Napoleon, and kissed him violentlyupon the nose. 

Napoleon wept. "What did I s-s-s-s-(whistle) say?" he sobbedlugubriously. "Oh, death, where is thy s-s-s-s-(whistle) sting?"

Evening had come. The two fell asleep in Algy's tent, locked in eachother's arms. 

CHAPTER XIII

A COMBINATION OF FORCES

Bostwick effected a change of dress in the rear of the nearest store. A rough blue shirt, stout kahki garments and yellow "hiking" bootsconverted him into one of the common units of which the camp throng wascomprised. He was then duly barbered, after which he made a strenuousbut futile endeavor to procure accommodations for the night. 

There was no one with leisure to listen to his tirade on the shamefulinadequacy of the attributes of civilization in the camp, and after onebrief attempt to arouse civic indignation against Van for his acts ofdeliberate lawlessness, he perceived the ease with which he mightcommit an error and render himself ridiculous. He dropped all hope ofpublicly humiliating the horseman and deferred his private vengeancefor a time more opportune. 

Wholly at a loss to cope with a situation wherein he found himself soutterly neglected and unknown, despite the influential position heoccupied both in New York and Washington, he resolved to throw himselfentirely upon the mercies of McCoppet. 

He knew his man only through their correspondence, induced by Beth'sbrother, Glenmore Kent. Inquiring at the bank, he was briefly directedto the largest saloon of the place. When he entered the bar he foundit swarming full of men, miners, promoters, teamsters, capitalists, gamblers, lawyers, and--the Lord alone knew what. The air was a reekof smoke and fumes of liquor. A blare of alleged music shocked theatmosphere. Men drunk and men sober, all were talking mines and gold, the greatness of the camp, the richness of the latest finds, and themarvel of their private properties. Everyone had money, everyone hadchunks of ore to show to everyone else. 

At the rear were six tables with layouts for games of chance. Faro, "klondike, " roulette, stud-poker, almost anything possibly to bedesired was there. All were in full blast. Three deep the men weregathered about the wheel and the "tiger. " Gold money in stacks stoodat every dealer's hand. Bostwick had never seen so much metal currencyin all his life. 

He asked for McCoppet at the bar. 

"Opal? Somewhere back--that's him there, talkin' to the guy with thefur on his jaw, " informed the barkeeper, making a gesture with histhumb. "What's your poison?"

"Nothing, thank you, " answered Bostwick, who started for his man, buthalted for McCoppet to finish his business with his friend. 

The man on whom Bostwick was gazing was a tall, slender, slightlystooped individual of perhaps forty-five, with a wonderful opal in histie, from which he had derived his sobriquet. He was clean-shaved, bigfeatured, and gifted with a pair of heavy-lidded eyes as lustreless asold buttons. He had never been seen without a cigar in his mouth, butthe weed was never lighted. 

Bostwick noted the carefulness of the man's attire, but gained no clueas to his calling. To avoid stupid staring he turned to watch a gameof faro. Its fascinations were rapidly engrossing his attentions andluring him onward toward a reckless desire to tempt the goddess ofchance, when he presently beheld McCoppet turn away from his man andsaunter down the room. 

A moment later Bostwick touched him on the shoulder. 

"Beg pardon, " he said, "Mr. McCoppet?"

McCoppet nodded. "My name. "

"I'd like to introduce myself--J. Searle Bostwick, " said the visitor. "I expected to arrive, as I wrote you----"

"Glad to meet you, Bostwick, " interrupted the other, putting forth hishand. "Where are you putting up?"

"I haven't been able to find accommodations, " answered Bostwick warmly. "It's an outrage the way this town is conducted. I thought perhaps----"

"I'll fix you all right, " cut in McCoppet. "Are you ready for a talk?Nothing has waited for you to come. "

"I came for an interview--in fact----"

"Private room back here, " McCoppet announced, and he started to leadthe way, pausing for a moment near a faro table to cast a cold glanceat the dealer. 

"Wonderfully interesting game, " said Bostwick. "It seems as if a manmight possibly beat it. "

There might have been a shade of contempt in the glance McCoppet castupon him. He merely said: "He can't. "

Bostwick laughed. "You seem very positive. "

McCoppet was moving on again. 

"I own the game. "

He owned everything here, and had his designs on two more places likeit, down the street. He almost owned the souls of many men, but goldand power were the goals on which his eyes were riveted. 

Bostwick glanced at him with newer interest as they passed down theroom, and so to a tight little office the walls of which were speciallydeadened against the transmission of sound. 

"Have anything to drink?" inquired the owner, before he took a chair, "--whiskey, wine?"

"Thanks, no, " said Bostwick, "not just yet. " He took the chair towhich McCoppet waved him. "I must say I'm surprised, " he admitted, "tosee the numbers of men, the signs of activity, and all the rest of itin a camp so young. And by the way, it seems young Kent is away. "

"Yes, " said the gambler, settling deeply into his chair and sleepilyobserving his visitor. "I sent him away last week. "

Bostwick was eager. 

"On something good for the--for our little group?"

"On a wild goose séance, " answered McCoppet. "He's in the way aroundhere. "

"Oh, " said Bostwick, who failed to understand. "I thought----"

"Yes. I culled your thought from your letters, " interrupted his hostdrawlingly. "We might as well understand each other first as last. Bostwick--are you out here to work this camp my way or the kid's?"

Bostwick was cautious. "How does he wish to work it?"

"Like raising potatoes. "

"And your plan is----"

"Look here, do I stack up like a Sunday-school superintendent? Ithought you and I understood each other. I don't run no game the otherman can maybe beat. Didn't you come out here with that understanding?"

"Certainly, I----"

"Then never mind the kid. What have you got in your kahki?"

"Our syndicate to buy the Hen Hawk group----" started Bostwick, but thegambler cut in sharply. 

"That's sold and cold. You have to move here; things happen. What didyou do about the reservation permit?"

Bostwick looked about the room furtively, and edged his chair a bitcloser. 

"I secured permission from Government headquarters to explore all orany portions of the reservation, and take _assistants_ with me, " heimparted in a lowered tone of voice. "I had it mailed to me here byregistered post. It should be at the post-office now. "

"Right, " said McCoppet with more of an accent of approval in hisutterance. "Get it out to-day. I've got your corps of assistantshobbled here in camp. They can get on the ground to-morrow morning. "

Bostwick's eyes were gleaming. 

"There's certainly gold on this reservation?"

"Now, how can anybody tell you that?" demanded McCoppet, who from hisplace here in Goldite had engineered the plan whereby his andBostwick's expert prospectors could explore every inch of theGovernment's forbidden land in advance of all competitors. "We'retaking a flyer, that's all. If there's anything there--we're on. "

Bostwick reflected for a moment. "There's nothing at present that oursyndicate could do?"

"There'll be plenty of chances to use ready money, " McCoppet assuredhim, rising. "You're here on the ground. Keep your shirt on and leavethe shuffling to me. "

Bostwick, too, arose. "How long will young Kent be away?"

"As long as I can keep him busy out South. "

"What is he doing out South?"

"Locating a second Goldite, " said the gambler. "Keeps him on themove. " He threw away his chewed cigar, placed a new one in his mouth, and started for the door. "Come on, " he added, "I'll identify you overat the postoffice and show you where you sleep. "

CHAPTER XIV

MOVING A SHACK

Less than a week had passed since Bostwick's arrival in Goldite, butexcitement was rife in the air. Despite the angered protests of half athousand mining men, the Easterner, with four of the shrewdestprospectors in the State, had traversed the entire mineral region ofthe reservation in the utmost security and assurance. Five hundred menhad been forced to remain at the border, at the points of officialguns. A few desperate adventurers had crept through the guard, butnearly all were presently captured and ejected from the place, whileBostwick--granted special privileges--was assuming this inside track. 

The day for the opening of the lands was less than two weeks off--andthe news leaked out and spread like a wind that the "Laughing Water"claim had suddenly promised amazing wealth as a placer where Van andhis partners were taking out the gold by the simplest, most primitiveof methods. 

The rush for the region came like a stampede of cattle. An army of menwent swarming over the ridges and overran the country like a plague ofants. They trooped across the border of the reservation, so close tothe "Laughing Water" claim, they staked out all the visible world, above, below, and all about Van's property, they tore down each others'monuments, including a number where Van had located new, protectiveclaims, and they builded a tent town over night, not a mile from hisfirst discovery. 

At the claim in the cove the fortunate holders of a private treasury ofgold had lost no time. In the absence of better lumber, for which theyhad no money, Van and his partners had torn down the shaft-house, madeit into sluices, and turned in the water from the stream. That was allthe plant required. They had then commenced to shovel the gravel intothe trough-like boxes, and the gold had begun to lodge behind theriffles. 

The cove became a theatre of curiosity, envy, and covetous longings. Men came there by motor, on horses, mules, and on foot to take onedelirious look and rush madly about to improve what chances stillremained. The fame of it swept like prairie fire, far and wide. Thenew-made town began at once to spread and encroach upon all who werecareless of their holdings. Lawlessness was rampant. 

At the cabin on the "Laughing Water" claim Algy, the Chinese cook, wasstill disabled. Gettysburg was chief culinary artist. Napoleonhustled for grub, the only supplies of which were over at Goldite--andexpensive. All were constantly exhausted with the labors of the day. 

Despite their vigilance they awoke one morning to see a brand-new cabinstanding on the claim, at the top of a hill. A man was on the roughpine roof, rapidly laying weather paper. Van beheld him, watched himfor a moment, then quietly walked over to the site. 

"Say, friend, " he called to the man on the roof, "you've broken intoEden by mistake. This property is mine and I haven't any building lotsto sell. "

The visiting builder took out a huge revolver and laid it on a block. He said nothing at all. Van felt his impatience rising. 

"I'm talking to you, Mr. Carpenter, " he added. "Come on, now, I don'twant any trouble with neighbors, but this cabin will have to beremoved. "

"Go to hell!" said the builder. He continued to pound in his nails. 

"If I go, " said Van calmly, "I'll bring a little back. Are you goingto move or be moved?"

"Don't talk to me, I'm busy, " answered the intruder. "I'm an irritableman, and everything I own is irritable, understand?" And taking up hisgun he thumped with it briskly on the boards. 

"If you're looking for trouble, " Van replied, "you won't need adouble-barreled glass. "

He turned away and the man continued operations. When he came to theshack Van selected a hammer and a couple of drills from among a lot oftools in the corner. 

To his partner's questions as to what the visitor intended he repliedthat only time could tell. 

"Here, Nap, " he added, fetching forth the tools, "I want you to takethis junk and go up there where the neighbor is working. Just sit downquietly and drill three shallow holes and don't say a word to yonderbusy bee. If he asks you what's doing, play possum--and don't make theholes too deep. "

Napoleon went off as directed. His blows could presently be heard ashe drilled in a porphyry dike. 

His advent puzzled the man intent on building. 

"Say, you, " said he, "what's on your programme?"

Napoleon drilled and said nothing. 

The carpenter watched him in some uneasiness. 

"Say, you ain't starting a shaft?"

No answer. 

"Ain't this a placer? Say, you, are you deef?"

Napoleon pounded on the steel. 

"Go to hell!" said the builder, as he had before, "--a man that can'tanswer civil questions!"

He resumed his labors, pausing now and then to stare at Napoleon, in asteadily increasing dubiety of mind. 

In something less than twenty minutes he had done very little roofing, owing to a nervousness he found it hard to banish, while Napoleon hadall but completed his holes. Then Van came leisurely strolling to theplace, comfortably loaded with dynamite, of which a man may carry much. 

With utter indifference to the man on the roof he proceeded to chargethose shallow holes. As a matter of fact he overcharged them. He usedan exceptional amount of the harmless looking stuff, and laid a shortfuse to the cap. When he turned to the builder, who had watchedproceedings with a sickening alarm at his vitals, that industriousperson had taken on a heavy, leaden hue. 

"You see I went where you told me, " said Van, "and I've brought someback as I promised. This shot has got to go before breakfast--andbreakfast is just about ready. "

"For God's sake give a man a chance, " implored the man who hadtrespassed in the night. "I'll move the shack to-morrow. "

"You won't have to, " Van informed him, "but you'd better move your meatto-day. "

He took out a match, scratched it with quiet deliberation and lightedthe end of the fuse. 

"For God's sake--man!" cried the carpenter, and without even waiting toclimb from the roof he rolled to the edge in a panic, fell off on hisfeet, and ran as if all the fiends of Hades were fairly at his heels. 

Van and Napoleon also moved away with becoming alacrity. Three minuteslater the charge went off. It sounded like the crack of doom. Itseemed to split the earth and very firmament. A huge black toadstoolof smoke rose up abruptly. Something like a blot of yellowish colorspattered all over the landscape. It was the shack. 

It had moved. The smoke cloud drifted rapidly away. On the hill was agreat jagged hole, lined with rock, but there was nothing more. Thecabin was hung in lumber shreds on the stunted trees for hundreds offeet in all directions. With it went hammers, saws and a barrel ofnails whose usefulness was ended. 

Gettysburg, aproned, and fresh from his labors at the stove, camehastening out of the cabin to where his partners stood, in greatdistress of mind. 

"Holy toads, Van!" he said excitedly, "it must have been the shot!I've dropped an egg--and what in the world shall I do?"

"Cackle, man, cackle, " Van answered him gravely. "That's a mighty rareoccurrence. "

"And two-bits apiece!" almost wailed poor Gettysburg, diving back intothe cabin, "and only them four in the shack!"

That was also the day that Bostwick came out upon the scene. He camewith his prospectors, all the party somewhat disillusionized as to allthat fabled gold upon the Indian reservation. 

Some word of the wealth of the "Laughing Water" claim had come toSearle early in the week. He did not visit the cabin or the owners ofthe cove. For fifteen minutes, however, he sat upon his horse andscanned the place in silence. Then out of his newly-acquired knowledgeof the boundaries of the reservation the hounds of his mind jumped up ahalf-mad plan. His cold eyes glittered as he looked across to whereVan and his partners were toiling. His lips were compressed in a smile. 

He rode to Goldite hurriedly and sought out his friend McCoppet. Whenthe two were presently closeted together where their privacy wasassured, a conspiracy, diabolically insidious, was about to have itsbirth. 

CHAPTER XV

HATCHING A PLOT

"You're back pretty pronto, " drawled the gambler, by way of an openingremark. "Found something too big to keep hidden?"

"That reservation is a false alarm, as Billy and the others will tellyou, " answered Bostwick, referring to McCoppet's chosen prospectors. "The rush will prove a farce. "

"You've decided sudden, ain't you?" asked McCoppet. "There's a goodbig deck there to stack. "

"We've wasted time and money till to-day. " Bostwick rose from hischair, put one foot upon it, and leaned towards the gambler as oneassuming a position of equality, if not of something more. "Look here, McCoppet, you asked me the day I arrived what sort of a game I'd cometo play. I ask you now if you are prepared to play somethingbig--and--well, let us say, a trifle risky?"

"Don't insult my calling, " answered the gambler. "I call. Lay yourcards on the table. "

Bostwick sat down and leaned across the soiled green baize. 

"You probably know as much as I do about the 'Laughing Water'claim--its richness--its owners--and where it's located. "

McCoppet nodded, narrowing his eyes. 

"A good dog could smell their luck from here. "

"But do you know where it lies--their claim?" insisted Bostwicksignificantly. "That's the point I'm making at present. "

"It's just this side of the reservation, from what I hear, " replied thegambler, "but if there's nothing on the reservation even near the'Laughing Water' ground----"

Bostwick interrupted impatiently: "What's the matter with _the'Laughing Water' being on the reservation_?"

McCoppet was sharp but he failed to grasp his associate's meaning. 

"But it ain't, " he said, "and no one claims it is. "

Bostwick lowered his voice and looked at the gambler peculiarly. 

"No one claims it _yet_!"

McCoppet threw away his cigar and took out a new one. 

"Well? Come on. I bite. What's the answer?"

Bostwick leaned back in his chair. 

"Suppose an accredited surveyor were to run out the reservationline--the line next the 'Laughing Water' claim--and make an error of aninch at the farthest end. Suppose that inch, projected several miles, became about a thousand feet--wouldn't the 'Laughing Water' claim bediscovered to be a part of the Indian reservation?"

McCoppet eyed him narrowly, in silence, for a moment. He had suddenlyconceived a new estimate of the man who had come from New York. 

Bostwick again leaned forward, continuing:

"No one will be aware of the facts but ourselves--therefore no one willthink of attempting to relocate the 'Laughing Water' ground, lawfully, at six o'clock on the morning of the rush. But we will be on hand, with the law at our backs, and quietly take possession of the property, on which--as it is reservation ground--the present occupants aretrespassing. "

McCoppet heard nothing of what his friend was saying. All thepossibilities outlined had flashed through his mind at Bostwick's firstintimation of the plan. He was busy now with affairs far ahead in thescheme. 

"Culver, the Government agent and surveyor is a dark one, " he musedaloud, half to himself. "If only Lawrence, his deputy, was in hisshoes---- Your frame-up sounds pretty tight, Bostwick, but Culver mayblock us with his damnable squareness. "

"Every man has his price, " said Bostwick, "--big and little. Culver, you say, represents the Government? Where is he now?"

McCoppet replied with a question: "Bostwick, how much have you got?"

Bostwick flushed. "Money? Oh, I can raise my share, I hope. "

"You hope?" repeated the gambler. "Ain't your syndicate back of anygame you open, with the money to see it started right?"

Bostwick was a trifle uneasy. The "syndicate" of which he had spokenwas entirely comprised of Beth and her money, which he hoped presentlyto call his own. He had worked his harmless little fiction of bigfinancial men behind him in the certainty of avoiding detection. 

"Of course, I can call on the money, " he said, "but I may need a day orso to get it. How much shall we require?"

McCoppet chewed his cigar reflectively. 

"Culver will sure come high--if we get him at all--but--it ought to beworth fifty thousand to you and me to shift that reservation line athousand feet--if reports on the claim are correct. "

It was a large sum. Bostwick scratched the corner of his mouth. 

"That would be twenty-five thousand apiece. "

"No, " corrected McCoppet, "twenty thousand for me and thirty for you, for equal shares. I've got to do the work underground. "

"Perhaps I could handle what's his name, Culver, myself, " objectedBostwick. "The fact that I'm a stranger here----"

"And what will you do if he refuses?" interrupted the gambler. "Willyou still have an ace in your kahki?"

Bostwick stared. 

"If he should refuse, and tell the owners----"

"Right. Can you handle it then?"

Bostwick answered: "Can you?"

"It's my business to get back what I've lost--and a little bit more. You leave it to me. Keep away from Culver, and bring me thirtythousand in the morning. "

Bostwick was breathing hard. He maintained a show of calm. 

"The morning's a little bit soon for me to turn around. I'll bring itwhen I can. "

McCoppet arose. The interview was ended. He added:

"Have a drink?"

"I'll wait, " said Bostwick, "till we can drink a toast to the 'LaughingWater' claim. "

McCoppet opened the door, waved Bostwick into the crowded gaming room, and was about to follow when his roving gaze abruptly lighted on afigure in the place--a swarthy, half-breed Piute Indian, standing infront of the wheel and roulette layout. 

Quickly stepping back inside the smaller apartment, the gambler pulleddown his hat. His face was the color of ashes. 

"So long. See you later, " he murmured, and he closed the door withouta sound. 

Bostwick, wholly at a loss to understand his sudden dismissal, lingeredfor a moment only in the place, then made his way out to the street, and went to the postoffice, where he found a letter from Glenmore Kent. Intent upon securing the needed funds from Beth with the smallestpossible delay, he dropped the letter, unread, in his pocket and headedfor the house where Beth was living. He walked, however, no more thanhalf a block before he altered his mind. Pausing for a moment on thesidewalk, he turned on his heel and went briskly to his own apartments, where he performed an unusual feat. 

First he read the letter from Kent. It was dated from the newest campin the desert and was filled with glittering generalities concerningriches about to be discovered. It urged him, in case he had arrived inGoldite, to hasten southward forthwith--"and bring a bunch of money. "Glenmore's letters always appealed for money--a fact which Bostwick hadremembered. 

The man sat down at his table and wrote a letter to himself. Withyoung Kent's epistle for his model, he made an amazingly clever forgeryof the enthusiastic writer's chirography, and at the bottom signed theyoung man's name. 

This spurious document teemed with figures and assertions concerning awonderful gold mine which Glenmore had virtually purchased. He neededsixty thousand dollars at once, however, to complete his remarkablebargain. Only two days of his option remained and therefore delaywould be fatal. He expected this letter to find his friend at Golditeand he felt assured he would not be denied this opportunity of alifetime to make a certain fortune. He would, of course, appeal toBeth--with certainty of her help from the wealth bequeathed her by heruncle--but naturally she was too far away, Glenmore was unaware of the fact that his sister had come to the West. Bostwick overlooked no details of importance. Armed with thisplausible missive, he went at once to Mrs. Dick's and found that Bethwas at home. 

CHAPTER XVI

INVOLVING BETH

Goldite to the Eastern girl, who had found herself practicallyabandoned for nearly a week, had proved to be a mixture of discomforts, excitements, and disturbing elements. Fascinated by the maelstrom ofthe mining-camp life, and unwilling to retreat from the scene until sheshould see her roving brother, and gratify at least a curiosityconcerning Van, she nevertheless felt afraid to be there, not only onaccount of the roughness and uncertainty of the existence, but alsobecause, despite herself, she had attracted undesirable attention. Moreover, the house was full of "gentlemen" lodgers, with three of whomElsa was conducting most violent flirtations. 

There were few respectable women in the town. It was still too earlyfor their advent. Beth had been annoyed past all endurance. There wasno possibility of even mild social diversions; there was no one tovisit. While the street could be described as perfectly safe, it wasnevertheless an uncomfortable place in which to walk. Bostwick's carhad been recovered and brought into camp, but skilled as she was at thesteering wheel, she had hardly desired or dared to take it out. 

Crime was frequent in the streets and houses. Disturbing reports ofmarauding expeditions on the part of the convicts, still at large, camewith insistent frequency. Altogether the week had been a trial to hernerves. It had also been a vexation. No man had a right, she toldherself, to do and say the things that Van had said and done, only togo off, without so much as a little good-by and give no further sign. She told herself she had a right to at least some sort of opportunityto tender her honest congratulations. She had heard of his claim--the"Laughing Water"--and perhaps she wished to know how it chanced to havethis particular name. If certain disturbing reflections anent thatwoman who had run to him wildly, out in the street, came mistilyclouding the estimate she tried to place upon his character, sheconfessed he certainly had the right to make an explanation. In apurely feminine manner she argued that she had the right to some suchexplanation--if only because of certain liberties he had taken with herhands--on which memories still warmly burned. 

Wholly undecided as to what she would do if she could, and impatientwith Bostwick for his sheer neglect in searching out her brother, shewas thoroughly glad to see him to-day when he came so unannounced tothe house. 

"Well if you don't look like a mountaineer!" she said, as she met himin the dining-room, which was likewise the parlor of the place. "Wherein the world have you been, all this time? You haven't come backwithout Glen?"

He had gone away ostensibly to find her brother. 

"Well, the fact is he wasn't where I went, after all, " he said. "Ihastened home, after all that trip, undertaken for nothing, and found aletter from him here. I've come at once to have an important talk. "

"A letter?" she cried. "Let me see it--let me read it, please. He's--where? He's well? He's successful?"

"Sit down, " answered Bostwick, taking a chair and placing his hat onthe table. "There's a good deal to say. But first, how have you beenhere, all alone?"

"Oh--very well--I suppose, " she answered, restraining the naturalresentment she felt at his patent neglect. "It isn't exactly the placeI'd choose to remain in, alone all the time. "

"Poor little girl, I've been thinking of that, " he told her, reachingacross the table to take her hands. "It's worried me, Beth, worried megreatly--your unprotected position, and all that. "

"Oh, you needn't worry. " She withdrew her hands. Someway it seemed asacrilege for him to touch them--it was not to be borne--she hardlyknew why, or since when. "I want to know about Glen, " she added. "Never mind me. "

"But I do mind, " he assured her. His hand was trembling. "Beth, I--Ican't talk much--I mean romantic talk, and all that, but--well--I'veabout concluded we ought to be married at once--for your sake--yourprotection--and my peace of mind. I have thought about it ever since Ileft you here alone. "

The brightness expressive of the gayety of her nature departed from hereyes. She looked fixedly at the man's dark face, with its gray, deep-set, penetrative eyes, its bluish jaw, and knitted brows. Itfrightened her, someway, as it never had before. He had magnetized heralways--sometimes more than now, but his influence crept upon hersubtly even here. 

"But I--I think I'd rather not--just yet, " she faltered, crimsoning anddropping her gaze to the table. "You promised not to--to urge meagain--at least till I've spoken to Glen. "

"But I could not have known--forseen these conditions, " he told her, leaning further towards her across the table. "Why shouldn't we bemarried now--at once? A six months' engagement is certainly longenough. Your position here is--well--almost dubious. You must seethat. It isn't right of me--decent--not to make you my wifeimmediately. I wish to do so--I wish it very much. "

She arose, as if to wrench herself free from the spell he was castingupon her. 

"I'm all right--I'm quite all right, " she said. "I'd rather not--justnow. There's no one here who cares a penny who or what I am. If myposition here is misunderstood--it can do no harm. I'd rather youwouldn't say anything further about it--just at present. "

Her agitation did not escape him. If he thought of the horseman whohad carried her off while sending himself to the convicts, his plan forvengeance only deepened. 

"You must have some reason for refusing. " He too arose. 

"No--no particular reason, " she answered, artlessly walking around thetable, apparently to pick up a button from the floor, but actually toavoid his contact. "I just don't wish to--to be marriednow--here--that's all. I ask you to keep your promise--not to ask itwhile we remain. "

He had feared to lose her a score of times before. He feared it nowmore potently than ever. And there was much that he must ask. Therisk of giving her a fright was not to be incurred. 

"Very well, " he said resignedly, "but--it's very hard to wait. "

"Won't you sit down?" she asked him, an impulse of gratitude upon her. "Now do be good and sensible, and tell me all about Glen. "

She returned to the table and resumed her seat. 

Bostwick sat opposite and drew his forged letter from his pocket. Hehad placed it in Glenmore's envelope after tearing the young man'sletter into scraps. 

"This letter, " said he, "was sent from way down in the desert--fromStarlight, another new camp. It looks to me as if the boy has strucksomething very important. I'll read you what he says--or you can readit for yourself. "

"No, no--read it. I'd rather listen. "

He read it haltingly, as one who puzzles over unfamiliar writing. Itseffect sank in the deeper for the method. Beth was open-eyed withwonder, admiration, and delight over all that Glen had done and wasabout to accomplish. She rose to the bait with sisterly eagerness. 

"Why, he _must_ have the chance--he's _got_ to have the chance!" shecried excitedly. "What do you think of it yourself?"

Bostwick fanned the blaze with conservatism. 

"It's quite a sum of money and Glen might overestimate the value of themine. I've inquired around and learn that the property is consideredtremendously promising. If we--if he actually secures that claim itwill doubtless mean a for---- I don't like to lose my sense ofjudgment, but I do want to help the boy along. Frankly, however, Idon't see how I can let him have so much. I couldn't possibly send himbut thirty thousand dollars at the most. "

Beth's eyes were blazing with excitement. She had never dreamed thatSearle could be so generous--so splendid. An impulse of gratitude andadmiration surged throughout her being. 

"You'd _do_ it?" she said. "You'll do as much as that for Glen?"

"Why, how can I do less?" he answered. "That claim will doubtless beworth half a million, maybe more--if all I hear is reliable--and I getit from disinterested parties. The boy has done a good big thing. I've got to help him out. It seems too bad to offer him only half ofwhat he needs, but I'm not a very wealthy man. I can't be utterlyQuixotic. We've all got to help him all we can. "

"Oh, thank you, Searle--thank you for saying 'we, '" she said in a voicethat slightly trembled. "I'm glad of the chance--glad to show dearGlen that a sister can help a little, too. "

He stared at her with an excellent imitation of surprise in his gaze. 

"You'll--help?" he said in astonishment, masterfully simulated. "Notwith the other thirty thousand?"

"Why not?" she cried. "Why not, when Glen has the chance of his life?You don't really think I'd hesitate?"

"But, " said he, leading her onward, "he needs the money now--at once. You'd have to get it here by wire, and all that sort of trouble. "

"Then we'd better get things started, " she said. "You'll help me, Searle, I'm sure. "

"If you wish it, " said Bostwick, "certainly. "

"Dear Glen!" she said. "Dear boy! I'll write him a letter at once. "

Bostwick started, alertly, as she ran in her girlish pleasure to astand where she had placed her materials for writing. 

"Good, " he commented drily, "I'll mail it with one of my own. "

She dashed off a bright effusion with all her spontaneous enthusiasm. Bostwick supplied her with the address, and presently took the letterin his hand. He had much to do at the bank, he informed her, by way ofpreparing for the deal. He promised to return when he could. 

On his way down street be deliberately tore the letter to the smallestof fragments and scattered them widely on the wind. 

CHAPTER XVII

UNEXPECTED COMPLICATIONS

On the following morning news arrived in Goldite that temporarilydimmed the excitement attendant upon stories of the "Laughing Water"property and the coming stampede to the Indian reservation. 

Matt Barger and three others of the convicts, still uncaptured, hadpillaged a freight team, of horses, provisions, and arms, murdered astage driver, robbed the express of a large consignment of gold, andescaped as before to the mountains. 

Two separate posses were in pursuit. Rewards aggregating ten thousanddollars were offered for Barger, dead or alive, with smaller sums foreach of his companions. Their latest depredations had occurredalarmingly close to the mining camp, from which travel was becominghazardous. 

The gold theft was particularly disquieting to the Goldite miningcontingent. Dangers beset their enterprises in many directions at thevery best. To have this menace added, together with worry over everyman's personal safety in traveling about, was fairly intolerable. Theinefficient posses were roundly berated, but no man volunteered toissue forth and "get" Matt Barger--either alive or as a corpse. 

The man who arrived with the news was one of Van's cronies, Dave, thelittle station man whom Beth had met the morning of her coming. He washere in response to a summons from Van, who thought he saw anopportunity to assist his friend to better things. Everything Daveowned he had fetched across the desert, including both the horses thatBeth and Elsa once had ridden. The station itself he had sold. He hadlaunched forth absolutely on Van's new promises, burning all hisbridges, as it were, behind him. 

Van came down to meet him. He had other concerns in Goldite, some withCulver, the Government representative, and others a trifle morepersonal, and intended to combine them all in one excursion. 

No sooner had he appeared on the street, after duly stabling "Suvy" atthe hay-yard, than a hundred acquaintances, suddenly transformed intointimate friends, by the change in his fortunes, pounced upon him in aspirit of generosity, hilarity, and comaraderie that cloyed not onlyhis senses, but even his movements in the camp. 

He was dragged and carried into four saloons like a helpless, good-natured bear cub, strong enough to resist by inflicting injuries, but somewhat amused by the game. Intelligence of his advent went therounds. The local editor and the girl he had addressed as "Queenie, "on the day of the fight in the street, were rivals in another joyousattack as he escaped at last to proceed about his own affairs. 

The editor stood no chance whatsoever. Van had nothing to say, andsaid so. Moreover, Queenie was a very persistent, as well as a verypretty, young person, distressingly careless of deportment. She clungto Van like a bur. 

"Gee, Van!" she cried with genuine tears in her eyes, "didn't I alwayssay you was the candy? Didn't I always say I'd give you my head andbreathe through my feet--day or night? Didn't I tell 'em all you wasthe only one? You're the only diamonds there is for me--and I didn'tnever wait for you to strike it first. "

"No, you didn't even wait for an invitation, " answered Van with asmile. "Everybody's got to hike now. I'm busy, trying to breathe. "

She clung on. Unfortunately, down in an Arizona town, Van had trounceda ruffian once in Queenie's protection--simply because of her genderand entirely without reference to her character or her future attitudetowards himself. In her way she personified a sort of adoration andgratitude, which could neither be slain nor escaped by anything that heor anyone else could do. Her devotion, however, had palled upon himearly, perhaps more because of its habit of increasing. It hadrecently become a pest. 

"Busy?" she echoed. "You said that before. When ain't you going to bebusy?"

"When I'm dead, " he answered, and wrenching loose he dived inside ahardware store, to purchase a hunting knife for Gettysburg, then wentat once to a barber shop and shut out the torment of friends. 

He escaped at the rear, when his face had been groomed, and made hisway unseen to Mrs. Dick's. 

Beth was not at home. She and Bostwick were together at the office ofthe telegraph company, where Searle was assisting her, as she thoughtto aid her brother, to such excellent purpose that her thirty thousanddollars bid fair to repose in the bank at his call before the businessday should reach its end. 

Mrs. Dick seemed to Van the one and only person in the camp unaffectedby the news of his luck. She treated him precisely as she always hadand doubtless always should. Therefore, he had no difficulty ingetting away to Culver at his office. 

The official surveyor was a fat-cheeked, handsome man, with a silkybrown beard, an effeminate voice, and prodigious self-conceit. He waspacing up and down the inside office, at the rear of the rough boardbuilding, when Van came in and found him. The horseman's business wasone of maps and land-office data made essential to his needs by the newrecording of the "Laughing Water" property as a placer instead of aquartz claim. He had drawn a crude outline of his holdings and intaking it forth from his pocket found the knife bought for Gettysburgin the way. He removed the weapon and placed it on the table near athand. 

"There's so much of this desert unsurveyed, " he said, "that no man cantell whether he's just inside or just outside of Purgatory. "

"So you come to me to find out?" Culver demanded somewhat shortly. "Doyou tin-horn miners think that's all this office is for?"

"Well, in my instance, I had to come to some wiser spirit than myselfto get my bearings, " answered Van drawlingly. "You can see that. "

"There are the maps. " Culver waved his hand towards a drawer in theoffice table, and moved impatiently over to a window, the view fromwhich commanded a section of the street, including the bank. 

Van was presently engrossed in a search for quarter sections, ranges, and townships. 

"Look here, " said Culver, turning upon him aggressively, "what's thisracket I hear about you taking the inside track with that stunning newpetticoat in town?"

Van looked up without the least suspicion of the man's real meaning. 

"If you are referring to that reckless young woman called Queenie----"

"Oh, Queenie--rats!" interrupted Culver irritably. "You know who Imean. I guess you call her Beth. "

Van's face took on a look of hardness as if it were chiseled in stone. He had squared around as if at a blow. For a moment he faced thesurveyor in silence. 

"You are making some grave mistake, " he said presently in ominous calm. "Please don't make such an allusion as that again. "

"So, the shot went home, " Culver laughed unctuously, turning for amoment from the window. "I thought it would. You know you couldn'texpect to keep anything like that all to yourself, Van Buren. You'renot the only ladies' man on the beach. And as for this clod of aBostwick----" He had turned to look out as before, and grew suddenlyexcited. Beth was in view at the bank. "By the gods!" he exclaimedwith a sudden change of tone, "she is the handsomest bit ofconfectionery on earth. If I don't win her----"

His utterance promptly ceased, together with his abominable activitiesand primping in the window. Van, who did not know that this creaturehad been Beth's particular annoyance, had crossed the room without asound and laid his grip on Culver's collar. 

"You cur!" he said quietly, and choking the man he flung him downagainst the floor and wall as if he had been the merest puppet. 

Someone had entered the outside door. Neither Culver nor Van heard thesound. Culver rolled over, scrambled to his feet, and with his faceand neck engorged with rage, came rushing at the horseman like a fury. 

"You blackguard!" he screamed, "I'll tear out your heart for that!I'll kill you like----"

"Shut up!" Van commanded quietly, stopping the onrush of his angeredfoe by putting his hand against the surveyor's face and sending himreeling as before. "Don't tell me what you'll do to me--or to anyoneelse in this camp! And if ever I hear of you opening your mouth againas you did here a moment ago, I'll tie a knot so hard in your carcassyou'll have to be buried in a hat box!"

He glanced towards the doorway. A stranger stood on the threshold. Bowing, Van passed him and left the place, too angered to think eitherof the maps or of his knife. 

Culver, raging like a maniac, bowled headlong into the visitor, in hiseffort to overtake the horseman, but found himself baffled and took outhis wrath in foul vituperation that presently drove the stranger fromthe place. 

CHAPTER XVIII

WHEREIN MATTERS THICKEN

The stranger who had witnessed the trouble at Culver's office had comethere at the instance of McCoppet. It was, therefore, to McCoppet thathe carried the intelligence of what had taken place, so far as he hadseen. 

The gambler was exceedingly pleased. That Culver would now be ready, as never before, to receive a proposition whereby the owners of the"Laughing Water" claim could be deprived of their ground, he was wellconvinced. 

For reasons best known to himself and skillfully concealed from allacquaintances, McCoppet had remained practically in hiding since themoment in which he had beheld that half-breed Piute Indian in thesaloon. He remained out of sight even now, dispatching a messenger toCulver, in the afternoon, requesting his presence for a conference forthe total undoing of Van Buren. 

Culver, who in ordinary circumstances might have refused this requestwith haughty insolence, responded to the summons rather sooner thanMcCoppet had expected. He was still red with anger, and meditatingpersonal violence to Van at the earliest possible meeting. 

McCoppet, with his smokeless cigar in his mouth, and his great opalsentient with fire, received his visitor in the little private den towhich Bostwick had been taken. 

"How are you, Culver?" he said off-handedly. 

"I wanted to have a little talk. I sent a man up to your shop a whileago, and he told me you fired Van Buren out of the place on the run. "

"That's nobody's business but mine, " said Culver aggressively. "Ifthat is all you care to talk about----"

"Don't roil up, " interrupted the gambler. "I don't even know what thefight was about, and I don't care a tinker's whoop either. I got youhere to give you a chance to put Van Buren out of commission and make alifetime winning. "

Culver looked at him sharply. 

"It must be something crooked. "

"Nothing's crooked that works out straight, " said McCoppet. "What'slife anyhow but a sure-thing game? It's stacked for us all to lose outin the end. What's the use of being finniky while we live--as long aseven the Almighty's dealing brace?"

Culver was impatient. "Well?"

"I won't beat around the chapparal, " said McCoppet. "It ain't my way. "Nevertheless, with much finesse and art he contrived to put hisproposition in a manner to rob it of many of its ugly features. However, he made the business plain. 

"You see, " he concluded, "the old reservation line might actually bewrong--and all you'd have to do would be to put it right. That's whatwe want--we want the line put right. "

Culver was more angered than before. He understood the conspiracythoroughly. No detail of its cleverness escaped him. 

"If you thought you could trade on my personal unpleasantness with anowner of the 'Laughing Water' claim, " he said hotly, "you have made themistake of your life. I wish you good-day. "

He rose to go. McCoppet rose and stopped him. 

"Don't get feverish, " said he. "It don't pay. I ain't requesting thisservice from you for just your feelings against a man. There's plentyin this for us all. "

"You mean bribe money, I suppose, " said Culver no less aggressivelythan before. "Is that what you mean?"

"Don't call it hard names, " begged the gambler. "It's just aretainer--say twenty thousand dollars. "

Culver burned to the top of his ears. He looked at McCoppet intentlywith an expression the gambler could not interpret. 

"Just to change that line a thousand feet, " urged the man of gamblingpropensities. "I'll make it twenty-five. "

Still Culver made no response. With all his other hateful attributesof character he was tempered steel on incorruptibility. He was noteven momentarily tempted to avenge himself thus on Van Buren. 

McCoppet thought he had him wavering. He attempted to push him overthe brink. 

"Say, " said he persuasively, lowering his voice to a tone of theconfidential, "I can strain a little more out of one of my partners andmake it thirty thousand dollars. " He had no intention of employing acent of his own. Bostwick was to pay all these expenses. "Thirtythousand dollars, cash, " he repeated, "the minute you finish yourwork--and make it look like a Government _correction_ of the line. "

Culver broke forth on him with accumulated wrath. 

"You damnable puppy!" he said in a futile effort to be adequate to thesituation. "You sneak! Of all the accursedintrigues--insults--robberies that ever were hatched---- By God, sir, if you offered me a million of money you shouldn't alter thatGovernment line by a hair! If you speak to me again--I'll knock youdown!"

He flung the door wide open, went out like a rocket, and bowled a manhalf over in his blind haste to be quit the place. 

McCoppet was left there staring where he had gone--staring and afraidof what the results would probably be to all the game. He had no eyesto behold a man who had suddenly discerned him from the crowds. Amoment later he started violently as a huge form stood in the door. 

"Trimmer!" he said, "I'm busy!"

"You're goin' to be busier in about a minute, if I don't see you rightnow, " said the man addressed as Trimmer, a raw, bull-like lumbermanfrom the mountains. "Been waitin' to see you some time. "

"Come in, " said the gambler instantly regaining his composure. "Comein and shut the door. How are you, anyway?" He held out his hand toshake. 

Trimmer closed the door. "Ain't ready to shake, jest yet, " he said. "I come here to see you on business. "

"That's all right, Larry, " answered McCoppet. "That's all right. Sitdown. "

"I'm goin' to, " announced his visitor. He took a chair, pulled out agiant cigar, and lighting it up smoked like a pile of burning leaves. "You seem to be pretty well fixed, " he added, taking a huge blackpistol from his pocket and laying it before him on the table. "Lookslike money was easy. "

"I ain't busted, " admitted the gambler. "Have a drink?"

"Not till we finish. " The lumberman settled in his chair. "That wasthe way you got me before--and you ain't goin' to come it again. "

McCoppet waited for his visitor to open. Trimmer was not in a hurry. He eyed the man across the table calmly, his small, shifting opticsdully gleaming. 

Presently he said; "Cayuse is here in camp. "

Cayuse was the half-breed Piute Indian whose company McCoppet hadavoided. Partially educated, wholly reverted to his Indian ways andtribal brethren, Cayuse was a singular mixture of the savage, pluscivilized outlooks and ethical standards that made him a dangerousman--not only a law unto himself, as many Indians are, but also astrange interpreter of the law, both civilized and aboriginal. 

McCoppet had surmised what was coming. 

"Yes--I noticed he was here. "

"Know what he come fer?" asked the lumberman. "Onto his game?"

"You came here to tell me. Deal the cards. "

Trimmer puffed great lungfuls of the reek from his weed and took hisrevolver in hand. 

"Opal, " said he, enjoying his moment of vantage, "you done me up for aclean one thousand bucks, a year ago--while I was drunk--and I've beenlaying to git you ever since. "

McCoppet was unmoved. 

"Well, here I am. "

"You bet! here you are--and here you're goin' to hang out till we fixthings _right_!" The lumberman banged his gun barrel on the table hardenough to make a dent. "That's why Cayuse is here, too. Mrs. Cayuseis dead. "

The gambler nodded coldly, and Trimmer went on. 

"She kicked the bucket havin' a kid which wasn't Cayuse's--too darnwhite fer even him--and Cayuse is on the war trail fer that father. "

McCoppet threw away his chewed cigar and replaced it with a fresh one. He nodded as before. 

"Cayuse is on that I know who the father was, " resumed the visitor. "Itold him to come here to Goldite and I'd give up the name. "

He began to consume his cigar once more by inches and watched theeffect of his words. There was no visible effect. McCoppet had neverbeen calmer in his life--outwardly. Inwardly he had never felt Dearerto death, and his own kind of fright was upon him. 

"Well, " he said, "your aces look good to me. What do you want--howmuch?"

"I ought to hand you over to Cayuse--good riddance to the wholecountry, " answered Trimmer, with rare perspicacity of judgment. "Youbet you're goin' to pay. "

"If you want your thousand back, why don't you say so?" inquired thegambler quietly. "I'll make it fifteen hundred. That's pretty goodinterest, I reckon. "

"Your reckoner's run down, " Trimmer assured him. "I want ten thousanddollars to steer Cayuse away. "

McCoppet slowly shook his head. "You ain't a hog, Larry, you're aRockyfeller. Five thousand, cash on the nail, if you show me you cansteer Cayuse so far off the trail he'll never get on it again. "

Five thousand dollars was a great deal of money to Trimmer. Tenthousand was far in excess of his real expectations. But he saw thathis power was large. He was brutally frank. 

"Nope, can't do it, Opal, not even fer a friend, " and he grinned. "I've got you in the door and I'm goin' to jamb you hard. Fivethousand ain't enough. "

Things had been going against the gambler for nearly an hour. He hadbeen acutely alarmed by the presence of Cayuse in the camp. His mind, like a ferret in a trap, was seeking wildly for a loophole ofadvantage. Light came in upon him suddenly, with a thought of Culver, by whom, subconsciously, he was worried. 

"How do you mean to handle the half-breed?" he inquired by way ofpreparing his ground. "You've promised to cough up a name. "

Trimmer scratched his head with the end of his pistol. 

"I guess I could tell him I was off--don't know the father after all. "

"Sounds like a kid's excuse, " commented McCoppet. "Like as not he'dtake it out of you. "

The likelihood was so strong that Trimmer visibly paled. 

"I've got to give him somebody's name, " he agreed with alacrity. "Hasanyone died around here recent?"

"Yes, " answered McCoppet with ready mendacity. 

"Culver, who used to do surveying. "

"Who?" asked Trimmer. "Don't know him. "

McCoppet leaned across the table. 

"Yes you do. He stopped you once from stealing--from picking up a lotof timber land. Remember?"

Trimmer was interested. His vindictive attributes were aroused. 

"Was that the cuss? I never seen him. Do you think Cayuse would knowwho he was?--and believe it--the yarn?"

"Cayuse was once his chain-man. " McCoppet was tremendously excited, though apparently as cold as ice, as he swiftly thought out theniceties of his own and fate's arrangements. "Cayuse's wife onceworked for Mrs. Culver, cooking and washing. "

"Say, anybody'd swaller that, " reflected the lumberman aloud. "Butfive thousand dollars ain't enough. "

"I'll make it seven thousand five hundred--that's an even split, "agreed the gambler. He thought he foresaw a means whereby he couldsave this amount from the funds that Bostwick would furnish. He rosefrom his seat. "A thousand down, right now--the balance when Cayuse isgone, leaving me safe forever. You to give him the name right now. "

Trimmer stood up, quenched the light on the stub of his cigar, andchewed up the butt with evident enjoyment. 

"All right, " he answered. "Shake. "

Ten minutes later he had found Cayuse, delivered up the name agreedupon, and was busy spending his money acquiring a load of fiery drink. 

CHAPTER XIX

VAN AND BETH AND BOSTWICK

Van was far too occupied to retain for long the anger that Culver hadaroused in all his being. Moreover, he had come to camp in a mood ofjoyousness, youth, and bounding emotions such as nothing couldsubmerge. The incident with Culver was closed. As for land-officedata, it was far from being indispensable, and Gettysburg's knife wasforgotten. 

He had fetched down a nugget from the "Laughing Water" claim, a brightlump of virgin gold, rudely fashioned by nature like a heart. This hetook at once to a jeweler's shop, where more fine diamonds were beingsold than in all the rest of the State, and while it was being solderedto a pin he returned to the hay-yard for Dave. His business was topurchase the mare on which, one beautiful morning when the wild peachwas in bloom, Beth Kent had ridden by his side. Dave would have givenhim the animal out of hand. Van compelled him to receive a marketprice. Even ponies here were valuable, and Dave had been poor all hislife. 

"Say, Van, " he drawled, when at length the transaction was complete, "this camp has set me to thinkin'. It's full of these rich galoots, all havin' an easy time. If ever I git a wad of dough I'm comin' hereand buy five dollars worth of good sardines and eat 'em, every one. Never have had enough sardines in all my life. "

"I'd buy them for you now and sit you down, " said Van, "only why starta graveyard with a friend?"

Some woman who had come and gone from Goldite had disposed of abeautiful side saddle, exposed in the hay-yard to the weather. Vanpaid fifty dollars and became its owner. The outfit for Beth was sooncomplete. He ordered the best of feed and attention for herroan--bills to be rendered to himself--and hastening off to thejeweler's, found his pin ready and reposing in a small blue box. Avoiding a number of admiring friends, he slipped around a corner, andonce more appeared at Mrs. Dick's. 

Beth was in the dining-room, alone. Her papers were spread upon thetable. She was flushed with the day's excitements, Van had entered unannounced. His active tread upon the carpet of thehall had made no sound. When he halted in the doorway, transfixed bythe beauty of the face he saw reflected in the sideboard mirroropposite, Beth was unconscious of his presence. 

She was busily gathering up her documents. Her pretty hands weremoving lightly on the table. Her eyes were downcast, focused where sheworked. Only the wondrous addition of their matchless brown, thoughtVan, was necessary to complete a picture of the most exquisiteloveliness he had ever beheld. 

He had come there prepared to be sedate--at least not over-bold again, or too presumptuous. Already, however, a riot of love was in hisveins. He loved as he fought--with all his strength, with a tidalimpetuosity that could scarcely understand resistance or imaginedefeat. To restrain himself from a quick descent upon her position anda boyish sweeping of her up in his powerful arms was taxing the utmostof his self-control. Then Beth glanced up at the mirror. 

The light of her eyes seemed to liquify his heart. He felt that mad, joyous organ spread abruptly, throughout his entire being. 

She rose up suddenly and turned to greet him. 

"Why--Mr. Van!" she stammered, flushing rosily. "I _heard_ you were intown. "

He came towards her quietly enough, the jeweler's box in his hand. 

"I called before, " he answered in his off-hand way. "You must havebeen out with poor old Searle. "

"Oh, " she said, "poor old Searle? Why poor?"

"I told you why before, " he said boldly, in spite of himself. He wasstanding before her by the table, looking fairly into her eyes, withthat dancing boyishness amazingly bright in his own. "You remember, too--you can't forget. "

The flush in her cheeks increased. Her glance was lowered. 

"You didn't give me time to--rebuke you for that, " she answered, attempting to assume a tone of severity. "You had no right--it wasn'tnice or like you in the least. "

"Yes it was, nice, and like me, " he corrected. "I've brought you anugget from the claim. " He opened the box and shook out the pin on thetable. 

She had started to make a reply concerning his actions when leaving onthat former occasion. The words were pushed aside. 

"Oh, my!" she said in a little exclamation, instead. "Anugget!--gold!--not from the--not from your claim?"

His hand slightly trembled. 

"From the 'Laughing Water' claim. Named for the girl I'm going tomarry. "

She gasped, almost audibly. The things he said were so whollyunexpected--so almost naked in their bluntness. 

"The girl--some girl you--Isn't it beautiful?" she faltered helplessly. "Of course I don't know--how any girl could have such a singular name. "

"Yes you do, " he corrected in his shockingly candid way. "You knowwhen Dave gave her the name. "

"Do I?" she asked weakly, trying to smile, and feeling some wonderful, welcome sort of fear of the passion with which he fairly glowed. "Youare--very positive. "

He moved a trifle closer, touching the pin, with a finger, as she heldit in her hand. His voice slightly shook as he asked:

"Do you like it?"

"The pin? Of course. A genuine nugget! You were very kind, I'm sure. "

"I thought when you and I ride over to the claim, some day, you oughtto have a horse of your own, " he announced in his manner of finality. "So your horse and outfit are over at Charlie's, at your order. "

She looked up at him swiftly. "My horse--over at Charlie's?"

"Yes, Charlie's--the hay-yard. I thought you liked a side-saddle bestand I found a good one in the hay. "

"But--I haven't any horse, " she protested, failing for a moment tograsp his meaning. "How could I have a horse in Goldite?"

"You couldn't help having him--that's all--any more than you can helphaving me. "

The light in his eyes was far too magnetic for her own brown glance toescape. She hardly knew what she was saying, or what she was thinking. She was simply aflame with happiness in his presence--and she feared hemust read it in her glance. That the horse was his gift shecomprehended all at once--but--what had he said--what was it he hadsaid, that she must answer? Her heart and her mind had coalesced. There was love in both and little of reason in either. She knew he washolding her eyes to his with the sheer force of overwhelming love. 

She tried to escape. 

"You--mean-----"

He broke all control like a whirlwind. 

"I mean I can't hold it any longer! I love you!--I love you to death!"

He took her in his arms suddenly, passionately, crushing her almostfiercely against his heart. He kissed her on the lips--once--twice--adozen times in half a minute--feeling the warm, moist softness in thecontact and holding her pliant figure yet more closely. 

She, too, was mad with it all, for a second. Then she began to battlewith his might. 

"Van!--Mr. Van!" she said, pushing his face away with a hand he mighthave devoured. "Let me go! Let me go! How dare---- You shan't! Youshan't! Let me go!"

Her nature, in revolt for a moment against her better judgment, refusedto do the bidding of her muscles. Then she gathered strength out ofthe whirlwind itself and pushed him away like a tigress. 

"You shan't!" she repeated. "You ought to be ashamed! How dare youtreat me----"

He had turned abruptly, looking towards the door. Her utterance washalted by his movement of listening. She had barely time to take upher papers, and make an effort at regaining her composure. Bostwickwas coming down the hall. He presently appeared at the door. For amoment there was silence. 

Van was the first to speak. 

"How are you, Searle?" he said cheerily. "Got over your grouch?"

Bostwick looked him over with ill-concealed loathing. 

"You thought you were clever, I suppose, " he said in a growl-like tonethat certainly fitted his face. "What are you doing here, I'd like toknow?"

"Tottering angels!" said Van, "didn't that experience do you any goodafter all? No wonder the convicts wouldn't have you!"

Beth was afraid for what Bostwick might have heard. She could notcensure Van for what he had done; she saw he would make noexplanations. At best she could only attempt to put some appearance ofthe commonplace upon the horseman's visit. 

"Mr. Van Buren came--to see Mrs. Dick, " she faltered, steadying hervoice as best she might. "They're--very old friends. "

"What's that?" demanded Bostwick, coming into the room and pointing atthe bright nugget pin, lying exposed upon the table. "Some present, Isuppose, for Mrs. Dick?" He started to take it in his hand. 

Van interposed. "It's neither for Mrs. Dick nor for you. It's apresent I've made to Miss Kent. "

Bostwick elevated his brows. 

"Indeed?"

Beth fluttered in with a word of defense. 

"It's just a little souvenir--that's all--a souvenir of--of my escapefrom those terrible men. "

"And Searle's return, " added Van, who felt the very devil in his veinsat sight of Bostwick helpless and enraged. 

Searle opened his lips as if to fling out something of his wrath. Heheld it back and turned to Beth. 

"It will soon be night. We have much to do. I suppose I may see you, privately--even here?"

Beth was helpless. And in the circumstances she wished for Van to go. 

"Certainly, " she answered, raising her eyes for a second to thehorseman's, "--that is--if----"

"Certainly, " Van answered cordially. "Good-by. " He advanced and heldout his hand. 

She gave him her own because there was nothing else to do--and thetingling of his being made it burn. She did not dare to meet his gaze. 

"So long, Searle, " he added smilingly. "Better turn that grouch out topasture. "

Then he went. 

CHAPTER XX

QUEENIE

The shadows of evening met Van, as he stepped from the outside door andstarted up the street. Then a figure emerged from the shadows and methim by the corner. 

It was Queenie. Her eyes were red from weeping. A smile that somewayaffected Van most poignantly, he knew not why, came for a moment to herlips. 

"You didn't expect to see me here, " she said. "I had to come to see ifit was so. "

"What is it, Queenie? What do you mean? What do you want?" heanswered. "What's the trouble?"

"Nothing, " she said. "I don't want nothing I can git--Iguess--unless--Oh, _is_ it her, Van? Is it sure all over with me?"

"Look here, " he said, not unkindly, "you've always been mistaken, Queenie. I told you at the time--that time in Arizona--I'd have donewhat I did for an Indian squaw--for any woman in the world. Whycouldn't you let it go at that?"

"You know why I couldn't, " she answered with a certain intensity ofutterance that gave him a species of chill. "After what you done--likethe only real friend I ever had--I belonged to you--and couldn't eventake myself away. "

"But I didn't want anyone to belong to me, Queenie. You know that. Icould barely support my clothes. "

Her eyes burned with a strange luminosity. Her utterance was eager. 

"But you want somebody to belong to you now? Ain't that what's thematter with you now?"

He did not answer directly. 

"I didn't think it was in you, Queenie, to follow me around and playthe spy. I've liked you pretty well--but--I couldn't like this. "

She stared at him helplessly, as an animal might have looked. 

"I couldn't help it, " she murmured, repressing some terrible emotion ofdespair. "I won't never trouble you no more. "

She turned around and went away, walking uncertainly, as if fromphysical weakness and the blindness of pain. 

Van felt himself inordinately wrung--felt it a cruelty not to run andovertake her--give her some measure of comfort. There was nothing hecould do that would not be misunderstood. Moreover, he had no adequateidea of what was in her mind--or in her homeless heart. He had knownher always as a butterfly; he could not take her tragically now. 

"Poor girl, " he said as he watched her vanishing from sight, "if onlyshe had ever had a show!"

He looked back at Mrs. Dick's. Bostwick had ousted him after all, before he could extenuate his madness, before he could ascertainwhether Beth were angry or not--before he could bid her good-by. 

Now that the cool of evening was upon him, along with the chill ofsober reflection, he feared for what he had done. He was as mad, ascrude as Queenie. Yet his fear of Beth's opinion was a sign that heloved her as a woman should be loved, sacredly, and with a certain awe, although he made no such analysis, and took no credit to himself forthe half regrets that persistently haunted his reflections. 

It would be a moonlight night, he pondered. He had counted on ridingby the lunar glow to the "Laughing Water" claim. Would Beth, by anypossibility, attempt to see him--come out, perhaps, in themoonlight--for a word before he should go?

He could not entertain a thought of departing without again beholdingher. He wanted to know what she would say, and when he might see heragain. After all, what was the hurry to depart? He might as well waita little longer. 

He went to the hay-yard. Dave had disappeared. Half an hour of searchfailed to bring him to light. On the point of entering a restaurant toallay his sense of emptiness, Van was suddenly accosted by a wild-eyedman, bare-headed and sweating, who ran at him, calling as he came. 

"Hey!" he cried. "Van Buren! Come on! Come on! She's dyin' and allshe wants is you!"

"What's wrong with you, man?" inquired the horseman, halted by thefellow's words. "What are you talking about?"

"Queenie!" gasped the fellow, panting for his breath. "Took poison--O, Lord! Come on! Come on! She don't want nothing but you!"

Van turned exceedingly pale. 

"Poison? What you want is the doctor!"

"He's there--long ago!" answered the informant excitedly, and swabbingperspiration from his face. "She won't touch his dope. It's all over, I guess--only she wants to see you. "

"Show me the way, then--show me the way. Where is she?" Van shook theman's shoulder roughly. "Don't stand here trembling. Take me to theplace. "

The man was in a wretched plight, from fear and the physical sufferinginduced by what he had seen. He reeled drunkenly as he started downthe street, then off between some rows of canvas structures, headingfor a district hung with red. 

At the edge of this place, at an isolated cabin, comprising two small, rough rooms, the man seemed threatened with collapse. 

"May be too late, " he whispered hoarsely, as he listened and heard nosounds from the house. "I'm goin' to stay outside--and wait. "

The door was ajar. Without waiting for anything further, Van pushed itopen and entered. 

"There he is--I knew it!" cried Queenie from the room at the rear. Itwas a cry that smote Van like a stab. 

Then he came to the room where she was lying. 

"I knew you'd come--I knew it, Van!" said the girl in a sudden outburstof sobbing, and she tried to rise upon her pillow. Agony, which shehad fought down wildly, seized her in a spasm. She doubled on the bed. 

Van glanced about quickly. The doctor--a young, inexperienced man--wasthere, sweating, a look of abject helplessness upon his face. The roomwas a poor tawdry place, with gaudy decorations and a litter ofQueenie's finery. In her effort to conquer the pains that possessedher body, the girl had distorted her face almost past recognition. 

Van came to the bedside directly, placed his hand on her shoulder, andgave her one of his characteristic little shakings. 

"Queenie, what have you done?" he said. "What's going on?"

She tried to smile. It was a terrible effort. 

"It's nobody's fault--but what was the use, Van?--what was there in itfor me?"

"She won't take anything--the antidote--anything! There isn't astomach pump in town!" the doctor broke in desperately. "She's got to!It's getting too late! We'll have to force it down! Maybe she'd takeit for you. " He thrust a goblet into Van's nervous hand. It containeda misty drink. 

"For God's sake take this, Queenie, " Van implored. "Take it quick!"

She shrank away, attempting with amazing force of will to mask her pain. 

"I'd take the stuff--for your sake--when I--wouldn't for God, " shefaltered, sitting up, despite her bodily anguish. "You don't ask meto--do it for you. "

"I do, Queenie--take it for me!" he answered, wrung again as he hadbeen at her smiles, an hour before, but now with heart-piercingpoignancy. "Take it for me, if you won't for anyone else. "

She received the glass--and deliberately threw it on the floor. Thedoctor cried out sharply. Queenie shook her head, all the timefighting down her agony, which was fast making inroads to her life. She fell back on her pillow. 

"You didn't--ask me--Van 'cause you love me. Nobody--wants me to live. That's all right. Do you s'pose you could kiss me good-by?"

The look on her face was peculiarly childish, as she drove out thelines of anguish in a superhuman effort made for him. And the yearningthere brought back again that thought he had voiced before, thatnight--why couldn't the child have had a chance?

The doctor was feverishly mixing another potent drink. 

Van bent down and kissed her, indulgently. 

"Force her to take it!" cried the doctor desperately. "Force her totake it!"

"Queenie, " Van said, "you've got to take this stuff. "

Her hand had found his and clutched it with galvanic strength. 

"Don't--make me, " she begged, closing her eyes in a species of ecstacythat no man may understand. "I'd rather--not--Van--please. Only abouta minute now. Ain't it funny--that love--can burn you--up?" Her griphad tightened on his hand. 

The doctor ran to the window, which he found already opened. He ranback in a species of frenzy. 

"Make her take it, make her take it! God!" he said. "Not to doanything--not to do a thing!"

Queenie smiled at Van again--terribly. Her fingers felt like ironrods, pressing into his flesh. As if to complete her renunciation shedropped his hand abruptly. She mastered some violent convulsion thatleft the merest flicker of her life. 

"Good-by, Van--good luck, " she whispered faintly. 

"Queenie!" he said. "Queenie!"

Perhaps she heard. After an ordeal that seemed interminable her facewas calm and still, a faint smile frozen on her marble features. 

Van waited there a long time. Someway it seemed as if this thing couldbe undone. The place was terribly still. The doctor sat there as ifin response to a duty. He was dumb. 

When Van went out, the man on the doorstep staggered in. 

The moon was up. It shone obliquely down into all that rock-linedbasin, surrounded by the stern, forbidding hills--the ancient, burned-out furnace of gold that man was reheating with his passions. Afar in all directions the lighted tents presented a ghostly unreality, their canvas walls illumined by the candles glowing within. A jargonof dance-hall music floated on the air. Outside it all was the desertsilence--the silence of a world long dead. 

Van would gladly have mounted his horse and ridden away--far off, nomatter where. Goldite, bizarre and tragic--a microcosm of the worldthat man has fashioned--was a blot of discordant life, he felt, upon anotherwise peaceful world. As a matter of fact it had only begun itsevening's story. 

He stood in the road, alone, for several minutes, before he felt hecould begin to resume the round of his own existence. When he came atlength to the main street's blaze of light, a deeply packed throngcould be seen in all the thoroughfare, compactly blocked in front of alarge saloon. 

Culver, the Government representative in the land-office needs, hadbeen found in his office murdered. He had been stabbed. Van's knife, bought for Gettysburg, had been employed--and found there, red with itsguilt. 

All this Van was presently to discover. He was walking towards thesurging mob when a miner he had frequently seen came running up andhalted in the light of a window. Then the man began to yell. 

"Here he is!" he cried. "Van Buren!"

The mob appeared to break at the cry. Fifty men charged down thestreet in a species of madness and Van was instantly surrounded. 

CHAPTER XXI

IN THE SHADOW OF THE ROPE

Mob madness is beyond explanation. Cattle stampeding are no moresenseless than men in such a state. Goldite, however, was not onlyhabitually keyed to the highest of tension, but it had recently beenexcited to the breaking point by several contributing factors. Lawlessthefts of one another's claims, ore stealing, high pressure over thecoming rush to the Indian reservation, and a certain apprehensionengendered by the deeds of those liberated convicts--all these elementshad aroused an over-revulsion of feeling towards criminality and adesire to apply some manner of law. And the primal laws are the lawsthat spring into being at such a time as this--the laws that cry outfor an eye for an eye and a swiftness of legal execution. 

Into the vortex of Goldite's sudden revulsion Van was swept like astraw. There was no real chance for a hearing. His friends of themorning had lost all sense of loyalty. They were almost as crazed asthose whom his recent success had irritated. The story of his row withCulver had spread throughout the confines of the camp. No link in thechain of circumstantial evidence seemed wanting to convict him. Abawling sea of human beings surrounded him with violence and menace. 

To escape the over-wrought citizens, the sheriff, assuming charge ofVan, dragged him on top of a stack of lumber, piled three feet highbefore a building. The cry for a rope and a lynching began with apromptness that few would have expected. In normal times it couldscarcely have been broached. 

Snatching new-made deputies, hit-or-miss from the mob, and summarilydemanding their services, the sheriff exerted his utmost powers to stemthe tide that was rising. Something akin to a trial began then andthere. A big red-faced drummer from Chicago, a man that Van had neverseen, became his voluntary advocate, standing between him and the mob. 

He had power, that man, both of limb and presence. His voice, also, was mighty. He shoved men about like rubber puppets and shouted hisdemands for law and order. 

Van, having flung off half a dozen citizens, who in the excitement hadfelt some fanatical necessity for clutching him, faced the human wolvesabout him in a spirit of angry resentment. The big man from Chicagomowed his way to the pile of lumber and clambered up by the sheriff. The pile raised its occupants only well above the surging pack of faces. 

"Stop your howling! Stop your noise!" roared the drummer from hiselevation. "Don't you want to give this man a chance?"

[Illustration: "Don't you want to give this man a chance?"]

He was heard throughout the street. 

"He's got to prove his innocence or hang!" cried someone shrilly. "Amurder foul as that!"

Another one bawled: "Where was he then? Make him tell where he was atsix o'clock!"

Culver's watch had been shattered and stopped at precisely six o'clock, presumably by his fall against a table in his office, when he suddenlywent down, at the hands of his assassin. This fact was in possessionof the crowd. 

A general shout for Van to explain where he was at the vital momentarose from all the crowd. The drummer turned to Van. 

"There you are, " he said. "There's your chance. If you wasn't aroundthe surveyor's shack, you ought to be able to prove it. "

Van could have proved his alibi at once, by sending around to Queenie'sresidence. He was nettled into a stubbornness of mind and righteousanger by all this senseless accusation. He did not realize hisdanger--the blackness of the case against him. That a lynching waspossible he could scarcely have been made to believe. Nevertheless, asthe Queenie matter was one of no secrecy and the facts must soon beknown, he was turning to the drummer to make his reply when his eye wascaught by a face, far out in the mass of human forms. 

It was Beth that he saw, her cheek intensely white in the lightstreaming forth from a store. Bostwick was there at her side. Bethhad been caught in the press of the throng as they came from thetelegraph office. 

He realized that at best his story concerning Queenie would besufficiently black. With Beth in this theater of accusation the storyof Queenie must wait. 

"It's nobody's business where I was, " he said. "This whole affair isabsurd!"

Half a dozen of the men who were nearest heard his reply. One of themroared it out lustily. The mob was enraged. The cries for a violenttermination to the scene increased in volume. Men were shouting, swearing, and surging back and forth tumultuously, wrought to a frenzyof primal virtue. 

One near Beth called repeatedly for a lynching. He had cut a long newpiece of rope from a coil at a store of supplies and was trying to dragit through the crowd. 

The girl had heard and seen it all. She realized its fullsignificance. She had never in her life felt so horribly oppressedwith a sense of terrible things impending. Impetuously she accosted aman who stood at her side. 

"Oh, tell them he was with me!" she said. 

The man looked her over, and raising himself on his tip toes, shook hishat wildly at the mob. 

"Say, " he shouted at the top of his might, "here's a girl he was withat six o'clock. "

It seemed as if only the men near at hand either heard or paidattention. On the farther side, away from Beth, the shouts for mob lawwere increasing. She turned to Bostwick hotly. 

"Can't you do anything? Tell them he was there with us--down at Mrs. Dick's at six o'clock!"

"He wasn't!" said Searle. "He left there at five forty-five. "

The man who had shouted listened to them both. 

"Five forty-five?" he repeated. "That makes a difference!"

The drummer had caught the shout from out at the edge. 

"Who's that?" he called. "Who's got that alibi?"

"All wrong!--No good!" yelled the man who stood by Beth. 

The girl had failed to realize how her statement would sound--in such aplace as Goldite. Van had turned sick when it reached him. He wasemphatically denying the story. The gist of it went through the massof maddened beings, only to be so soon impugned by the man who hadstarted it from Beth. The fury, at what was deemed an attempteddeception, burst out with accumulated force. 

The sheriff had drawn a revolver and was shouting to the mob to keepaway. 

"This man has got to go to jail!" he yelled. "You've got to actaccordin' to the law!"

He ordered his deputies to clear the crowd and make ready for retreat. Three of them endeavored to obey. Their efforts served to aggravatethe mob. 

Confusion and chaos of judgment seemed rising like a tide. In the veryair was a feeling that suddenly something would go, something too farstrained to hold, and some terrible deed occur before these peoplecould ask themselves how it had been accomplished. 

The fellow with the rope was being boosted forward by half a dozenintoxicated fools. Had the rope been a burning fuse it could scarcelyhave ignited more dangerous material than did its strands of manilla, in those who could lay their hands upon it. 

The drummer was shouting himself raw in the throat--in vain. 

Van was courting disaster by the very defiance of his attitude. Itseemed as if nothing could save him, when two separate things occurred. 

The doctor who had been with Van at Queenie's death arrived in thepress, got wind of the crisis, and vehemently protested the truth. Simultaneously, the lumberman, Trimmer, drunk, and enjoying what hedeemed a joke, hoarsely confided to some sober men the fact that Cayusehad done the murder. 

Even then, when two centers of opposition to the madness of the mob hadbeen created, the menace could not at once be halted. 

The man with the rope had approached so near the lumber-pile that thesheriff could all but reach him. A furious battle ensued, and wagedaround the planks, between the deputies and lynchers. It lasted tillfifty active men of the camp, aroused to a sense of reaction by thefacts that were now becoming known, hurled the struggling fightersapart and dragged them off, all the while spreading the news they hadheard concerning the half-breed Indian. 

No less excited when at last they knew that Van was innocent, the greatcrowd still occupied the street, hailing Trimmer to the lumber-pile anddemanding to know how he came by the facts, and where Cayuse had gone. 

Trimmer was frightened into soberness--at least into sobernesssufficient to protect himself and McCoppet. He said he had seen theIndian coming from Culver's office, with blood upon his hands. TheIndian had gone straight westward from the town, to elude pursuit inthe mountains. 

The fact that Van had been at Queenie's side at her death became townproperty at once. It came in all promptness to Beth. 

With a feeling of sickness pervading all her being, she was glad tohave Bostwick take her home. 

It was late when at last the street was clear, and Van could finallymake his escape from danger and returning friends. Dave by then hadfound himself; that is, he made his way, thus tardily, to thehorseman's side--and the two went at length to their dinner. 

At half-past eight, with the moon well up, Dave and Van were ready fordeparture. Their horses were saddled. One extra animal was packedwith needed provisions for the crew on the "Laughing Water" claim. Vanhad ordered all he could for Queenie's final journey--the camp's bestpossible funeral, which he could not remain to attend. There wasnothing to do but to mount and ride away, but--Beth was down at Mrs. Dick's. 

Resistance was useless. Bidding Dave wait with the horses at the yard. Van made his way around through the shadows of the houses, and comingout upon a rocky hill, a little removed from the boarding place, wasstartled to see Beth abruptly rise before him. 

The house had oppressed her--and the moon had called. Bostwick, inalarm concerning possible disaster to the plans he had made withMcCoppet, now that Culver was dead, had gone to seek the gambler outand ascertain the status of affairs. 

CHAPTER XXII

TWO MEETINGS AFTER DARK

For a moment neither Beth nor Van could speak. The girl, like astartled moon-sprite, wide-eyed and grave, had taken on a mood ofbeauty such as the man had never seen. She seemed to him strangelyfragile, a trifle pale, but wholly exquisite, enchanting. 

No signs were on her face, but she had wept--hot, angry tears, withinthe hour. And here was the cause of them all! She had wished he wouldcome--and feared he would come, as conflicting emotions possessed her. Now that he stood here, with moonlight on half of his face, herthoughts were all unmarshaled. 

Van presently spoke. 

"I'm a kid, after all. I couldn't go away without--this. "

"I wish you had! I wish you had!" she answered, at his smile. "I wishI had never seen you in the world!"

His heart was sore for jesting, but he would not change his way. 

"If not in the world, where _would_ you have wished to see me, then?"

"I never wished to see you at all!" she replied. "Your joke has gonetoo far. You have utterly mistaken my sense of gratitude. "

"Guess not, " he said. "I haven't looked for gratitude--nor wanted it, either. "

"You had no right!" she continued. "You have said things--donethings--you have taken shameful advantage--you have treated me like--Isuppose like--that other--that other---- You dared!"

Van's face took on an expression of hardness, to mask the hurt of hisheart. 

"Who says so?" he demanded quietly. "You know better. "

"It's true!" she answered hotly. "You had no right! It was mere brutestrength! You cannot deny what you have been--to that miserablewoman!" Tears of anger sped from her eyes, and she dashed them hotlyaway. 

Van stepped a little closer. 

"Beth, " he said, suddenly taking her hand, "none of this is true, andyou know it. You're angry with that woman, not with me. "

She snatched her hand away. 

"You shan't!" she said. "Don't you dare to touch me again. I hateyou--hate you for what you have done! You've been a brute probably toher as well as to me!"

"To you? When?" he demanded

"All the time! To-day!--Now!--when you say I'm angry at a--woman whois dead!--a woman who died for you!"

It hit him. 

"Poor Queenie, " he said, "poor child. "

"Yes--poor Queenie!" Her eyes blazed in the moonlight. "To think thatyou dared to treat me like----"

"Beth!" he interrupted, "I won't permit it. I told you to-day I lovedyou. That makes things right. You love me, and that makes themsacred. I'd do all I've done over again--_all_ of it--Queenie and therest! I'm not ashamed, nor sorry for anything I've done. I loveyou--I say--I love you. That's what I've never done before--and neversaid I did--and that's what makes things right!"

Beth was confused by what he said--confused in her judgment, heremotions. Weakly she clung to her argument. 

"You haven't any right--it isn't true when you say I love you. Idon't! I won't! You can't deny that woman died of a broken heart foryou!"

"I don't deny anything about her, " he said. "I tried to be her friend. God knows she needed friends. She was only a child, a pretty child. I'm sorry. I've always been sorry. She knew I was only a friend. "

She felt he was honest. She knew he was wrung--suffering, but not inhis conscience. Yet what was she to think? She had heard it all--allof Queenie's story. 

"You kissed her, " she said, and red flamed up in her cheeks. 

"It was all she asked, " he answered simply. "She was dying. "

"And you're paying for her funeral. "

"I said I was her friend. "

"Oh, the shamelessness of it!" she exclaimed as before, "--the way itlooks! And to think of what you dared to do to me!"

"Yes, I kissed you without your asking, " he confessed. "I expect tokiss you a hundred thousand times. I expect to make you my wife--for alove like ours is rare. Whatever else you think you want to say, Beth--now--don't say it--unless it's just good-night. "

With a sudden move forward he took her two shoulders in his powerfulhands and gave her a rough little shake. Then his palms went swiftlyto her face, he kissed her on the lips, and let her go. 

"You!--Oh!" she cried, and turning she ran down the slope of the hillas hard as she could travel. 

He watched her going in the moonlight. Even her shadow was beautiful, he thought, but all his joy was grave. 

She disappeared within the house, without once turning to see what hehad done. He could not know that from one of the darkened windows shepresently peered forth and watched him depart from the hill. He wasnot so assured as he had tried to make her think, and soberness dweltwithin his breast. 

Half an hour later he and old Dave were riding up the mountain in themoonlight. The night from the eminence was glorious, now that the townwas left behind. Goldite lay far below in the old dead theatre of pastactivities, dotting the barren immensity with its softened lights likethe little thing it was. How remote it seemed already, with its vices, woes, and joys, its comedy and tragedy, its fevers, strifes, and toil, disturbing nothing of the vast serenity of the planet, ever rolling onits way. How coldly the moon seemed looking on the scene. And yet ithad cast a shadow of a girl to set a man aflame. 

Meantime Bostwick had been delayed in securing McCoppet's attention. The town was still excited over all that had happened; the saloons werefull of men. Culver had been an important person, needful to many ofthe miners and promoters of mining. His loss was an aggravation, especially as his deputy, Lawrence, was away. 

The more completely to allay suspicions that might by any possibilitycreep around the circle to himself, McCoppet had been the camp's mostactive figure in organizing a posse, with the sheriff, to go out andcapture Cayuse. His reasons for desiring the half-breed's end werenaturally strong, nevertheless his active partisanship of law andjustice excited no undesirable talk. He was simply an influentialcitizen engaged in a laudable work. 

It was late when at length he and Bostwick could snatch a few minutesto themselves. The gambler's first question then was something of apuzzle to Bostwick. 

"Well, have you got that thirty thousand?"

"Got it? Yes, I've got it, " Bostwick answered nervously, "but what isthe good of it now?"

It was McCoppet's turn to be puzzled. 

"Anything gone wrong with Van Buren, or his claim?"

"Good heavens! Isn't it sufficient to have things all gone wrong withCulver? What could be worse than that?"

The gambler flung his cigar away and hung a fresh one on his lip. 

"Say, don't you worry on Culver. Don't his deputy take his place?"

"His deputy?"

"Sure, his deputy--Lawrence--a man we can get hands down. "

Bostwick stared at him hopefully. 

"You don't mean to say this accident--this crime--is fortunate, afterall?"

"It's a godsend. " McCoppet would have dared any blasphemy. 

Bostwick's relief was inordinate. 

"Then what is the next thing to do?"

"Wait for Lawrence, " said the gambler. Then he suddenly arose. "No, we can't afford the time. He might be a week in coming. You'll haveto go get him, to-morrow. "

"Where is he, then?"

"Way out South, on a survey. You'd better take that car of yours, witha couple of men I'll send along, and fetch him back mighty pronto. Wecan't let a deal like this look raw. The sooner he runs thatreservation line the better things will appear. "

Bostwick, too, had risen. 

"Will your men know where to find him?"

"If he's still on the map, " said the gambler. "You leave that to me. Better go see about your car to-night. I'll hustle your men and youroutfit. See you again if anything turns up important. Meantime, isyour money in the bank?"

"It's in the bank. "

"Right, " said McCoppet. "Good-night. "

CHAPTER XXIII

BETH'S DESPERATION

The following day in Goldite was one of occurrences, all more or lessintimately connected with the affairs of Van and Beth. 

Bostwick succeeded in making an early start to the southward in hiscar. McCoppet had provided not only a couple of men as guides to thefield where Lawrence was working, but also a tent, provisions, andblankets, should occasion arise for their use. 

Beth was informed by her fiancé that word had arrived from her brother, to whom Searle said he meant to go. The business of buying Glenmore'smine, he said, required unexpected dispatch. Perhaps both he and Glenmight return by the end of the week. 

By that morning's train the body of Culver was shipped away--and thecamp began to forget him. The sheriff was after Cayuse. 

Early in the afternoon the body of the girl who had never been known inGoldite by any name save that of Queenie, was buried on a hillside, already called into requisition as a final resting place for such assuccumbed in the mining-camp, too far from friends, or too far lost, tobe carried to the world outside the mountains. Half a dozen womenattended the somewhat meager rites. There was one mourner only--theman who had run to summon Van, and who later had waited by the door. 

At four o'clock the Goldite _News_ appeared upon the streets. Itcontained much original matter--or so at least it claimed. The accountof the murder of Culver, the death of Queenie, and the threatenedlynching of Van Buren made a highly sensational story. It was giventhe prominent place, for the editor was proud to have made it so fullin a time that he deemed rather short. On a second page was a taleless tragic. 

It was, according to one of its many sub-headings, "A Humorous Outcropconcerning two Maids and a Man. " It related, with many gay sallies of"wit, " how Van had piloted Mr. J. Searle Bostwick into the hands of theconvicts, recently escaped, packed off his charges, Miss Beth Kent andher maid, and brought them to Goldite by way of the Monte Cristo mine, in time to behold the discomfited entrance of the said J. SearleBostwick in prisoner's attire. Mr. Bostwick was described as havingbeen "on his ear" towards Van Buren ever since. 

In the main the account was fairly accurate. Gettysburg, Napoleon, andold Dave had over-talked, during certain liquifying processes. Thematter was out beyond repair. 

Mrs. Dick was prompt in pouncing on the story, hence Beth was soonpresented with a copy. In the natural annoyance she felt when it wasread, there was one consolation, at least: Searle was away, to be goneperhaps two or three days. He might not see the article, which wouldsoon be forgotten in the camp. 

To culminate the day's events, that evening Elsa ran away. She wentwith a "gentleman" lodger, taking the slight precaution to be marriedby the Justice of the Peace. 

Beth discovered her loss too late to interfere. She felt herselfalone, indeed, with Bostwick away, her brother off in the desert, andVan--she refused to think of Van. Fortunately, Mrs. Dick was more thanmerely a friend. She was a staunch little warrior, protecting thechampion, to anger whom was unhealthy. Despite the landlady's attitudeof friendliness, however, Beth felt wretchedly alone. It was aterrible place. She was cooped up all day within the lodging house, since the street full of men was more than she cared to encounter; andwith life all about her, and wonderful days spreading one after anotheracross the wide-open land, her liberties were fairly in a cage. 

From time to time she thought of the horse, awaiting her order at thehay-yard. She tried to convince herself she would never accept or ridethe animal. She was certain she resented everything Van had done. Shefelt the warmest indignation at herself for breaking into bits of song, for glowing to the tips of her ears, for letting her heart leap wildlyin her breast whenever she thought of the horseman. 

Two days went by and she chafed under continued restraints. No wordhad come from Bostwick, none from Glen--and not a sign from the"Laughing Water" claim. From the latter she said to herself she wishedno sign. But Searle had no right to leave her thus and neglect her inevery respect. 

The morning of the third long day Mrs. Dick brought her two thinletters. One had been mailed in Goldite, by a messenger down from the"Laughing Water" claim. It came from Van. He had written the briefestof notes:

"Just to send my love. I want you to wear my nugget. "

Folded into the paper was a spray of the wild peach bloom. 

Beth tried to think her blushes were those of indignation, whichlikewise caused the beat of her heart to rise. But her hand flutteredprettily up to her breast, where the nugget was pinned inside herwaist. Also his letter must have been hard to understand--she read itseventeen times. 

Then she presently turned to the other. It was addressed intypewritten characters, but the writing inside she knew--her brotherGlen's. 

"Dear Old Sis: Say, what in the dickens are you doing out here in themines, by all that's holey?--and what's all this story in the Goldite_News_ about one Bronson Van Buren doing the benevolent brigand stuntwith you and your maid, and shunting Searle off with the Cons? Whycouldn't you let a grubber know you were hiking out here to the desert?Why all this elaborate surprise--this newspaper wireless to your fondand lonesome?

"What's the matter with your writing hand? Is this Van-brigand holdingthem both? What's the matter with Searle? I wrote him two or threeaeons ago, when he might have been of assistance. Now I'm doing myeight hours a day in an effort to sink down to China. I'm on theblink, in a way, but not for long, for this is the land whereopportunity walks night and day to thump on your door--and I'll grabher by the draperies yet. 

"But _me_!--working as a common miner!--though I've got a few days offto go and look at a claim with a friend of mine, so you needn't answertill you hear again. 

"If Searle is dead, why don't he say so? I only touched him for a fewodd dollars--I only needed a grub-stake--fifty would have done thetrick--and he doesn't come through. And nobody writes. I guess it'sme for the Prodigal, but when I do get next to the fatted calf I'll getinside and eat my way out by way of his hoofs and horns. Why couldn'tyou and Searle and the maid come down and have a look at me--working?_It's worth it_. Come on. Maybe it's easier than writing. Yours forthe rights of labor, GLEN. "

Astonished by the contents of this communication, Beth read it again, in no little bewilderment, to make sure she had made no mistake. Noletter from herself? No word from Searle? No answer to Glen's requestfor money? And he had only asked for a "few odd dollars?" There mustbe something wrong. He had sent the most urgent requirement for sixtythousand dollars. And she herself had written, at once. Searle hadassured her he had sent him word by special messenger. Starlight wasless than a long day's ride away. Glen had already had time to seethat account in the paper and write. 

She had no suspicions of Bostwick. She had seen Glen's letter and readit for herself. And Searle had responded immediately with an offer tolend her brother thirty thousand dollars. There must be some mistake. Glen might be keeping his news and plans from herself, as men so oftenwill. Searle might even have overlooked the importance of keeping Glenfully posted, intending to go so soon to Starlight. Her own lettermight have miscarried. 

She tried to fashion explanations--but they would not entirely fit. Searle had been gone three days. He had gone before the Goldite _News_was issued. The paper had arrived at Glen's while the man in his carhad failed. 

For a moment she sickened with the reflection that Searle might oncemore have fallen captive to the convicts, still at large--and with allthe money! Then she presently assured herself that news so sinister asthis would have been very prompt to return. 

It was all too much to understand--unless Glen were ill--or out of hisreason. His two letters, the one to Searle and this one to herself, were so utterly conflicting. It was not to be solved from such adistance. Moreover, Glen wrote that he was off on a trip, and askedher to wait before replying. It was irritating, all this waiting, alone here in Goldite, but there seemed to be nothing else to do. 

The long morning passed, and she fretted. In the afternoon the Goldite_News_ broke its record. It printed an extra--a single sheet, inglaring type, announcing the capture of the convicts. By a bold anddaring coup, it said, the entire herd of criminals, all half starvedand weakened by privations, had been rounded up and transported back toprison. Unfortunately, the report was slightly inaccurate. MattBarger, the leader in the prison delivery, and the most desperate manin the lot, had escaped the posse's vigilance. Of this importantfactor in the welcome story of the posse's work Goldite was ignorant, and doomed to be in ignorance a week. 

The news to Beth was a source of great relief. But her troubles inother directions were fated to increase. That evening three men calledformally--formally, that is to say, in so far as dressing in their bestwas concerned and putting on their "company manners. " But Beth andcourtship were their objects, a fact that developed, somewhat crudelywith the smallest possible delay. 

One of these persons, Billy Stitts by name, was fairly unobjectionableas a human being, since he was a quaint, slow-witted, bird-like littlecreature, fully sixty years of age and clearly harmless. The otherswere as frankly in pursuit of a mate as any two mountain animals. 

Beth was frightened, when the purport of their visit flashed upon her. She felt a certain sense of helplessness. Mrs. Dick was too busy to beconstantly present; Elsa was gone; the ways of such a place were newand wholly alarming. She felt when she made her escape from the threethat her safety was by no means assured. Her room was her onlyretreat. Except for Mrs. Dick, there was not another woman in thehouse. She was wholly surrounded by men--a rough, womanless lot whoseexcitements, passions, and emotions were subjected to changesconstantly, as well as to heats, by the life all around them in themines. 

That night was her first of real terror. Every noise in the building, and some in the streets, made her start awake like a hunted doe, withimaginings of the most awful description. She scarcely slept at all. 

The following day old Billy Stitts called again, very shortly afterbreakfast. He proved such an amiable, womanly old chap that he wasalmost a comfort to the girl. She sent him to the postoffice, for apossible letter from Glen. He went with all the pleasure and alacrityof a faithful dog, apologizing most exuberantly on his return for thefact that no letter had come. 

She remained in the house all day. The afternoon brought the two roughsuitors of the night before, and two more equally crude. Mrs. Dick, toBeth's intense uneasiness, regarded the matter as one to be expected, and quite in accord with reason and proper regulations. A good-lookinggirl in camp, with her men-folks all giving her the go-by--and whatcould you expect? Moreover, as some of these would-be courtiers werehusky and in line for fortune's smile, with chances as good as anyother man's, she might do worse than let them come, and hear what theyhad to say. It was no girl's need to be neglected as Searle and Vanwere patently neglecting Beth. 

This was the stage in which Beth at length began to meditate on Spartanremedies. The situation was not to be endured. No word had come fromSearle. The world might have swallowed him up. She was sick ofhim--sick of his ways of neglect. And as for Van----

There was no one to whom she could turn--unless it were Glen. If onlyshe could flee to her brother! She thought about it earnestly. Shetried to plan the way. 

Her horse was at the hay-yard. Starlight was only one day off in thedesert. The convicts were no longer about. If only she could ridethere--even alone! An early start--a little urging of the pony--shecould fancy the journey accomplished with the utmost ease; thenscornful defiance, both of Bostwick and of Van. 

But a woman--riding in this lawless land alone! She was utterlydisheartened, disillusionized at the thought. It would be no less thanmadness. And yet, it seemed as if she must presently go. Searle'ssilence, coupled to conditions here, was absolutely intolerable. 

With plans decidedly hazy--nothing but a wild, bright dream reallyclear--she questioned Billy Stitts concerning the roads. He wasfamiliar with every route in miles, whether roadway, trail, or "courseby compass, " as he termed trackless cruising in the desert. He gaveher directions with the utmost minutae of detail as to every highway toStarlight. He drew her a plan. She was sure that she could almostride to Starlight in the dark. What branches of the road to shun, which trails to choose, possibly, for gaining time, what places towater a famishing horse--all these and more she learned with feverishinterest. 

"Now a man would do this, " and "a man would do that, " said Billy timeafter time, till a new, fantastic notion came bounding full-fledgedinto Beth's anxious brain and almost made her laugh with delight. Shecould _dress as a man_ and ride as a man and be absolutely safe on thejourney! She knew a dozen unusual arts for dying the skin andconcealing the hair and making the hands look rough. Make-up inprivate theatricals, at professional hands, she had learned withexceptional thoroughness. 

She would need a suit of kahki, miners' books, a soft, big hat, andflannel shirt. They were all to be had at the store. She could orderher horse to be saddled for a man. She could readily dress and escapeunseen from the house. In a word, she could do the trick!

The plan possessed her utterly. It sent her blood bounding through herveins. Her face was flushed with excitement. She loved adventure--andthis would be something to do!

Nevertheless, despite all her plans, she had no real intention ofattempting a scheme so mad. Subconsciously she confessed to herself itwas just the merest idle fancy, not a thing to be actually ventured, oreven entertained. 

That night, when she was more beset, more worried than before, however, desperation was increasing upon her. The plan she had made no longerseemed the mere caprice of one in pursuit of pleasure--it appeared tobe the only possible respite from conditions no longer to be borne. 

When the morning came, after a night of mental torture and bodily fear, her patience had been strained to the point of breaking, and resolvewas steeling her courage. 

The word that should have come from Searle was still delinquent. Butold Billy Stitts brought her a letter from Glen. 

"Dear Sis: I can only write a line or two. Had a thump on the head, but it didn't knock off my block. Don't worry. All right in a fewdays, sure. Guess you couldn't come, or you'd be here, in response tomy last. But Searle might show up, anyhow. You can write me now. Hope you're well and happy. Is the brigand still on the job? Can'treally write. With love, GLEN. "

Her heart stood still as she; read her brother's lines, in a scrawledhand indicative of weakness. She resolved in that instant to go. 

"Mr. Stitts, " she raid in remarkable calm, for all that she felt, "mybrother needs some clothing--everything complete, boots, shirts, andall. He's just about my size. I wish you'd go and buy them. "

"Lord, I know the best and the cheapest in camp!" said Billy eagerly. "I'll have 'em here before you can write him your letter--but the stagedon't go back till Friday. "

She had given no thought to the tri-weekly stage. She dismissed itnow, with a wave of gratitude towards Van for the horse--gratitude, orsomething, surging warmly in her veins. She almost wished he couldride at her side, but checked that lawlessness sternly. She would rideto Glen alone!

CHAPTER XXIV

A BLIZZARD OF DUST

At daylight Beth was dressed as a man and surveying herself in themirror. She had passed a sleepless night. She was fevered, excited, and nervous. 

Her work had been admirably done. She looked no more rawly new oryouthful than scores of young tenderfeet, daily in the streets of thecamp. The stain on her face had furnished an astonishing disguise, supported as it was by male attire. Her hair was all up in the crownof her hat, which was set on the back of her head. It was fastened, moreover, with pins concealed beneath the leather band. Altogether thedisguise was most successful. Beth had disappeared: a handsome youngman had been conjured in her place. 

Her mare, which Billy had ordered, came promptly to the door. Sheheard her arrive--and her heart stroked more madly than before. Trembling in every limb, and treading as softly as a thief, she madeher way downstairs. 

On the dining-room table was the package of lunch that Mrs. Dick hadagreed to prepare. Beth had told her she meant to take an earlymorning ride and might not be back in time for breakfast. With thisbundle in hand she went out at the door, her courage all but failing atthought of the man with the horse at the threshold. She shrank frombeing seen in such an outfit. 

It was too late now to retreat, however, she told herself bravely, andout she went. 

"Say, git a move, young feller, " said the hostler with her pony. "Iain't got time to play horse-post here all day. "

"Thank you for being so prompt, " said Beth, in a voice that was faint, despite her efforts to be masculine, and she gave him a coin. 

"I'll tie that there bundle on behind, " he volunteered, less gruffly, and Beth was glad of his assistance. 

A moment later she took a gasp of breath and mounted to the seat. Collapse of all the project had seemed imminent, but an actual feelingof relief and security ensued when she was settled in the saddle. 

"So long, " said the hostler, and Beth responded manfully, "So long. "

She rode out slowly, towards the one main road. A feeling of themorning's chill assailed her, making her shiver. The noise of herpony's hoof-beats seemed alarmingly resonant. 

But nothing happened. The streets were deserted, save for a fewhalf-drunken wanderers, headed for the nearest saloon. On the far-offpeaks of the mountains the rosy light of sunrise faintly appeared. Inthe calm of the great barren spaces, even Goldite was beautiful at last. 

A sense of exhilaration pervaded Beth's youthful being. She was gladof what she had done. It was joyous, it was splendid, this absolutefreedom in all this stern old world!

The road wound crookedly up a hill, as it left the streets of the townbehind. The scattered tents extended for a mile in this direction, thesquares of silent canvas, like so many dice, cast on the slopes by acareless fate that had cast man with them in the struggle. 

Beth and her pony finally topped the hill, to be met by a sea ofmountains out beyond. Up and down these mighty billows of the earththe highway meandered, leading onward and southward through the desert. 

The mare was urged to a gallop, down an easy slope, then once more shewalked as before. All the mountains in the west were rosy now, tillpresently the sun was up, a golden coin, struck hot from the very mintsof God, giving one more day with its glory. 

Its very first rays seemed a comfort, suggesting a welcome warmth. Beth could have called out songs of gladness well nigh uncontainable. She had all the big world to herself. Even the strangely twistedclouds in the sky seemed made for her delight. They were rare in thiswonderful dome of blue and therefore things of beauty. 

For an hour or more her way was plain, and to ride was a god-likeprivilege. Her ease of mind was thoroughly established. What had beenthe necessity for all those qualms of fear? The matter was simple, after all. 

It was ten o'clock before she ate her breakfast. She had come to theso-called river, the only one in perhaps a hundred miles. It was quitea respectable stream at this particular season, but spread very thinlyand widely at the ford. 

By noon she was half way of her distance. The sun was hot; summerbaking of the desert had begun. Her mare was sweating profusely. Shehad urged her to the top of her strength. Nevertheless she was stillin excellent condition. To the westward the sky was overcast in amanner such as Beth had never seen, with a dark, copperous storm-headthat massed itself prodigiously above the range. 

Already she had come to three branchings of the road and chosen her wayin confidence, according to Billy Stiff's directions. When she came toa fourth, where none had been indicated, she was sure, either inBilly's instructions, or upon his drawing, she confessed herselfsomewhat uncertain. She halted and felt for the map. 

It was not to be found. She had left it behind at Mrs. Dick's. Dimlyshe fancied she remembered that Billy had said on the fourth branch, keep to the right. There could be no doubt that this branch was thefourth, howsoever out of place it appeared. She rode to the right, and, having passed a little valley, found herself enfolded in a rollingbarrier of hills where it seemed as if the sun and rocks were of almostequal heat. 

At mid-afternoon Beth abruptly halted her pony and stared at the worldof desert mountains in confusion not unmixed with alarm. She was outat the center of a vast level place, almost entirely devoid ofvegetation--and the road had all but disappeared. It branched oncemore, and neither fork was at all well defined, despite the fact thattravel to Starlight was supposed to be reasonably heavy. She had madesome mistake. She suddenly remembered something that Billy had saidconcerning a table mountain she should have passed no later thanhalf-past one. It had not been seen along her way. She was tired. Weariness and the heat had broken down a little of the bright, joyousspirit of the morning. A heart-sinking came upon her. She must turnand ride back to--she knew not which of the branches of the road, anyone of which might have been wrongly selected. 

Her mare could not be hurried now; she must last to get her toStarlight. To add to other trifles of the moment, the bank of cloud, so long hung motionless above the western summits, moved out across thepath of the sun and blotted out its glory with a density that wouldhave seemed impossible. 

Scarcely had Beth fairly turned her back to the west when a wind stormswooped upon the desert. It came as a good stiff breeze, at first, flecking up but little of the dust. Then a sudden, ominous changeoccurred. All the blue of the sky was overwhelmed, under a suddenexpansion of the copperous clouds. An eclipse-like darkness envelopedthe world, till the farthest mountains disappeared and the near-byranges seemed to magnify themselves as they blended with the sky. 

With a sound as of an on-rushing cataclysm the actual storm, cyclonicin all but the rotary motion, came beating down upon the startled earthlike a falling wall of air. 

In less than two minutes the world, the atmosphere, everything hadceased to be. It was a universe of dust and sand, hurtling--God knewwhither. 

In the suddenness of the storm's descent upon her, Beth becamespeechless with dismay. Her mare dropped her head and slowly continuedto walk. Road, hills, desert--all had disappeared. To go onward wasmadness; to remain seemed certain death. Despair and horror togethergripped Beth by the heart. There was nothing in the world she could dobut to close her eyes and double low above the saddle, her hat bentdown to shield her face. 

At the end of a few minutes only the frightfulness of the thing couldno longer be endured. Beth had been all but torn from her seat by thesheer weight and impact of the wind. All the world was roaringprodigiously. The sand and dust, driving with unimaginable velocity, smoked past in blinding fury. 

The mare had ceased to move. Beth was aware of her inertia, dimly. She remembered at last to dismount and stand in the animal's shelter. At length on the raging and roaring of the air-sea, crashing onward inits tidal might, came a fearful additional sound. It was rushingonward towards the girl with a speed incredible--a sound of shrieking, or whistling, that changed to a swishing as if of pinions, Titanic insize, where some monstrous winged god was blown against, his will in aheadlong course through the tumult. 

Then the something went by--the whole roof of a house--from twentymiles away. It scraped in the earth, not ten feet off from where thepony stood--and she bolted and ran for her life. 

Down went Beth, knocked over by the mare. With a hideous crash theflying roof was hurled against a nearby pinnacle of rock. The woodenwings split upon the immovable obstruction, and on they went as before. 

The pony had disappeared, in panic that nothing could have allayed. The storm-pall swallowed her instantly, Beth could not have seen herhad she halted a rod away. Her eyes had been opened for half a momentonly before she was flung to the earth. She was rolling now, and forthe moment was utterly powerless to rise or to halt her locomotion. 

When she presently grasped at a little gray shrub, came to a halt, andtried to stand erect, she was buffeted bodily along by the wind with nostrength in her limbs to resist. 

She was blown to the big rock pinnacle on which the roof had beendivided. An eddy twisted her rudely around to the shelter, and sheflung herself down upon the earth. 

CHAPTER XXV

A TIMELY DELIVERANCE

How long she lay there Beth could never have known. It seemed a timeinterminable, with the horror of the storm in all the universe. It wascertainly more than an hour before the end began to come. Then cloudsand the blizzard of sand and dust, together with all the mightyroaring, appeared to be hurled across the firmament by the final gustof fury and swept from the visible world into outer space. 

Only a brisk half-gale remained in the wake of the huger disturbance. The sky and atmosphere cleared together. The sun shone forth asbefore--but low to the mountain horizon. When even the clean wind toohad gone, trailing behind its lawless brother, the desert calm becameas absolute as Beth had beheld it in the morning. 

She crept from her shelter and looked about the plain. Her eyes werered and smarting. She was dusted through and through. In all thebroad, gray expanse there was not a sign of anything alive. Her marehad vanished. Beth was lost in the desert, and night was fastdescending. 

Deliverance from the storm, or perhaps the storm's very rage, hadbrought her a species of calm. The fear she had was a dull, persistentdread--an all-pervading horror of her situation, too large to be acute. Nevertheless, she determined to seek for the road with all possiblehaste and make her way on foot, as far as possible, towards theStarlight highway and its possible traffic. 

She was stiff from her ride and her cramped position on the earth. Shestarted off somewhat helplessly, where she felt the road must be. 

She found no road. Her direction may have been wrong. Possibly thestorm of wind had swept away the wagon tracks, for they had all beenfaint. It had been but half a road at best for several miles. Herheart sank utterly. She became confused as to which way she hadtraveled. Towards a pass in the hills whence she felt she must havecome she hastened with a new accession of alarm. 

She was presently convinced that she had chosen entirely wrong. Arealizing sense that she was hopelessly mixed assailed her crushingly. To turn in any direction might be a grave mistake. But to stand hereand wait--do nothing--with the sun going down--this waspreposterous--suicidal! She must go on--somewhere! She must find theroad! She must keep on moving--till the end! Till the end! Howterrible that thought appeared, in such a situation!

She almost ran, straight onward towards the hills. Out of breath verysoon, she walked with all possible haste and eagerness, all the timelooking for the road she had left, which the storm might have wipedfrom the desert. She was certain now that the mountains towards whichshe was fleeing were away from the Goldite direction. 

Once more she changed her course. She realized then that such effortsas these must soon defeat themselves. At least she must stick to onedirection--go on in a line as straight as possible, till she came tosomething! Yet if she chose her direction wrong and went miles awayfrom anything----

She had to go on. She had to take the chance. She ploddedsouthwestward doggedly, for perhaps a mile, then halted at somethinglike a distant sound, and peered towards the shadows of the sunset. 

There was nothing to be seen. A hope which had risen for a moment inher breast, at thought of possible deliverance, sank down in collapse, and left her more faint than before. The sun was at the very rim ofthe world. Its edge began to melt its way downward into all the solidbulk of mountains. It would soon be gone. Darkness would ensue. Themoon would be very late, if indeed it came at all. Wild animals wouldissue from their dens of hiding, to prowl in search of food. Perhapsthe sound she heard had been made by an early night-brute of thedesert, already roving for his prey!

Once more she went on, desperately, almost blindly. To keep on going, that was the one essential! She had proceeded no more than a few rods, however, when she heard that sound again--this time more like a shout. 

Her heart pounded heavily and rapidly. She shaded her eyes with herhand, against the last, slanted sun-rays, and fancied she discernedsomething, far off there westward, in the purples flung eastward by themountains. Then the last bit of all that molten disk of golddisappeared in the summits, and with its going she beheld a horseman, riding at a gallop towards herself. 

The relief she felt was almost overwhelming--till thoughts of such anencounter came to modify her joy. She was only an unprotectedgirl--yet--she had no appearance of a woman! This must be hersafeguard, should this man now approaching prove some rough, lawlessbeing of the mines. 

She stood perfectly still and waited. A man would have hurried forwardto meet this deliverance, so unexpectedly vouchsafed. But she was tooexcited, too uncertain--too much of a girl. Then presently, when thehorseman was still a hundred yards away, her heart abruptly turned overin her bosom. 

The man on the horse was Van. She knew him--knew that impudent pose, that careless grace and oneness with his broncho! She did not know hewas chasing that flying roof which had frightened her horse from herside; that he had bought an old cabin, far from his claim, to move itto the "Laughing Water" ground--only to see it wrenched from his holdby the mighty gale and flung across the world. She knew nothing ofthis, but she suddenly knew how glad was her whole tingling being, howbounding was the blood in her veins! And she also knew, abruptly, thatnow if ever she must play the man. She had all but forgotten she wasangry with Van. That, and a hundred reasons more, made it absolutelyimperative now that he should not know her for herself!

She made a somewhat wild attempt at a toilet of her hair--in case thewind had ripped the tell-tale strands from beneath her hat. Then withutter faintness in her being, and weakness in her knees, she preparedto give him reception. 

He had slowed his horse to a walk. He rode up deliberately, scrutinizing in obvious puzzlement the figure before him in the sand. 

"Hullo, " he said, while still a rod away, "what in blazes are you doinghere, man--are you lost?"

Beth nodded. "I'm afraid I am. " Her utterance was decidedly girlish, and quavering. 

"Lost your voice somewhere, too, I reckon, " said Van. "Where are yougoing? Where are you from?"

"Starlight, " answered Beth, at a loss for a better reply, and making aneffort to deepen her tones as she talked. "I lost my horse in thestorm. "

Van looked around the valley. 

"Did, hey? Didn't happen to see a stray roof, anywhere, did you? Ilost one. "

"I--haven't seen anything, " faltered Both, whose only wish was to havehim say something about her escape from this terrible place. "Butsomething frightened my pony. "

"I was curious to see how far that roof would hike, that's all, " hetold her by way of explanation of his presence here on his horse, andhe turned to look at her again. "Didn't you know this so-calledcut-off to Starlight would take you more time than the road?"

"No, I--I didn't know it, " said Beth, afraid he must presentlypenetrate her masquerade if he looked like that upon her. "What do youadvise me to do?"

He ignored her question, demanding:

"Say, is your name Kent?--Glenmore Kent?"

Beth felt her heart begin new gymnastics. This was her cue. 

"Why, yes. But--how did you know--know me?"

"I've met your sister, in Goldite. You can't get to Starlightto-night. "

She had passed muster! A herd of wild emotions were upon her. Butfirst here was her predicament--and what he said was not at allreassuring. Certain alarms that his coming had banished returned in avague array. 

She showed her dread in her eyes. "Perhaps I could get to Goldite. "

"How?" He was half unconsciously patting Suvy, the horse, whoseecstasy thereat was not to be concealed. 

Beth knew not how. She wished Van would cease that study of her face. Perhaps she could think more clearly. 

"Why--I suppose I could walk--if I knew the way, " she said. "Is itvery far? I admit I'm bewildered. I was lost. "

"It would be a long ride, " he told her. "A lost man is hopeless. Icouldn't even show you the way so you could keep it--especially atnight. "

New fears came surging upon her in all their force and numbers. 

"But--what shall I do?"

Van reflected. 

"My claim is the nearest camp from here, since the wind took down thatshack. And that was abandoned anyway. Can you hike some twenty-oddmiles?"

Twenty-odd miles!--on foot! For a second she was almost tempted todisclose herself, and beg him, for something a trifle more sympatheticthan what he seemed to be offering another fellow man. But that couldnot be done. And night was descending rapidly. The twilight wasbrief--and on the wane. 

"Why--perhaps so, " she answered, attempting to smile. "I'll try. "

Something in her smile went straight to his heart--he wondered why. Tofeel as he did towards this unknown man, even the brother of the girlhe madly loved--this was certainly absurd. It was not to be explained;it was simply upon him, that was enough. He dismounted. 

"Here, get on my horse and ride. I want to walk and stretch my legs. "

Beth all but gasped. She!--ride on Suvy!--the horse she had seen sonearly kill this man!--a horse that might perhaps permit no otherliving thing upon his back! Yet she knew not how to refuse--and towalk very far would be impossible. 

"I'm--afraid I'm a very poor horseman, " she admitted guardedly. "Ifyour pony should happen----"

Van had thought that Suvy might resent a stranger's liberties. Heturned to the broncho peculiarly. 

"How about it, boy?" he asked the horse gravely. "I want you to standfor it, savvy?" He looked at the animal inquiringly. How he knew thatSuvy consented was only for him to comprehend. He squared about toBeth, who was watching with wonder, and something far softer, in herheart. "Get on, " he said. "He was raised as a cradle for babies. "

Beth was pale, but she had to be a man. She stepped to the broncho'sside and mounted to the saddle. Suvy trembled in every sinew of hisbeing. 

Van gave him a pat on the neck again, turned his back and startedstraight northward. The pony followed at his heels like a dog with amaster he loves. 

CHAPTER XXVI

THE NIGHT IN THE DESERT

At ten o'clock that night the moon had not yet risen. Its glow was onthe eastern sky, however, and at length it appeared, a broken orb withits waning side lopped from its bulk. 

Beth was still in the saddle. She was utterly exhausted; she couldscarcely remain in her seat. For more than an hour Van had ploddedonward without even turning to speak. They had talked intermittently, and he had told her his name. Far off in the dimness of the desertlevel--the floor of a second mighty valley--a lone coyote began hisdismal howling. Beth, on the horse, felt a chill go down her spine. Van seemed not to hear. The howl was repeated from time to timeintermittently, like the wail of a ghost, forever lost to hope. 

When the moon at last shone fairly on the broncho and the girl, Vancast a glance at her face. He was startled. The young rider looked somuch like Beth--and looked so utterly tired!

Van halted, and so did the pony. The man looked up at his companion. 

"You're in no fit condition to go on, " he said. "What's the use of ourtrying to make it? To camp right here is as good as going on allnight, which don't suit my legs worth a cent. "

Beth was wearied almost to collapse. But--to camp out here--allnight!--they two! Aside from the terrors that had crept to her soul atsound of the distant coyote, this present aspect of the situation wasappalling. Indeed, she began to see that whether they went on orremained, she must spend the night in this man's company. 

She was almost too tired to care how such a thing would appear. Hethought her a man--it had been inescapable--there was nothing she coulddo to prevent the course of events. And come what might she mustpresently slip from that saddle, in her weakness, faintness, andhunger, if the penalty were all but life itself. 

"I'm--sure I can walk--and let you ride, " she said. "I'd like to goon, but I know I can't sit here any longer. "

She tried to dismount by herself--as any man must do. In her stiffnessshe practically fell from the saddle, sinking on her side upon theground. Only for a second was she prostrate thus at his feet, but hercoat fell back from her kahki vest--and a gleam of the moonlight fellupon a bright little object, pinned above her heart. 

Van beheld it--and knew what it was--his nugget, washed from the"Laughing Water" claim!

The truth seemed to pour upon him like the waters of an all-engulfingwave--the overwhelming, wonderful truth that was also almost terrible, in what it might mean to them both. 

There was one thing only the man could do--ignore this fact that he haddiscovered and treat her like a man. This he knew instantly. Heturned with a man's indifference to one of his sex and vaulted toSuvy's back. 

"Come on, " he said, "if you're anxious to get under cover. "

He could trust himself to say no more. He rode ahead. 

Beth did her best to follow, and make no complaint. The broncho, however, was a rapid walker. This she had not realized while Van wasstriding on in the lead. She fell behind repeatedly, and Van wasobliged to halt his horse and wait. She began to be lame. It had beena torture to ride; it was agony to walk. 

Van now became strangely urgent. He had never loved her more. Hislove had taken on a sacredness, out here in the night, with Beth soweary and helpless. More than anything he had ever desired in his lifehe wished to keep her sacred--spared from such a complication as theirnight out here alone might engender. 

Yet he saw the first little limp when she began to falter. He waswatching backward constantly, his whole nature eager to protecther--save her from hurt, from this merciless toil across the desert. He longed to take her in his arms and carry her thus, securely. He wastorn between the wish to hasten her along, for her own greater ease ofmind, and the impulse to halt this hardship. He knew not what to do. 

They had gone much less than a mile when he brought up his pony at herside. 

"Here, Kent, " he said, "you walk like a bride-groom going up the aisle. You'll have to get up here and ride. " He dismounted actively. 

Beth could have dropped in her tracks for weariness. She was tired tothe marrow of her bones. 

"I can't, " she answered. "Perhaps--we'd better camp. " A hot flushrushed upward to her very scalp, fortunately, however, unseen. 

Van regarded her sternly. 

"I've changed my mind. I haven't time to camp out here to-night. You'll have to ride. "

It seemed to Beth that, had it been to save her life, she couldscarcely have climbed to that saddle. To remain on the horse would, she knew, be far beyond her strength. She continued on her feet onlyby the utmost exertion of her will. Someway since Van had found her inthis dreadful place she had lost strength rapidly--perhaps for theleaning on him. With Van's ultimatum now to confront, she could summonno nerve or resolution. 

Her face paled. "You'd better go on, if you have to be at your claim, "she said, aware that she could offer no argument, no alternative planto his wish for an onward march. "I'm--not used to riding--much. Ican't ride any more tonight. "

He knew she told the truth, knew how gladly she would have continuedriding, knew what a plight of collapse she must be approaching tosubmit to a thought of remaining here till morning. He could not goand leave her here. The thought of it aroused him to something likeanger. He realized the necessity of assuming a rougher demeanor. 

"Damn it, Kent, " he said, "you're no less lost than you were before. You know I can't go off and leave you. And I want to get ahead. "

She only knew she could not ride, come what might. 

"You didn't say so, a little while ago, " she ventured, halfimploringly. "I'm sorry I'm so nearly dead. If you must go on----"

That cut him to the heart. How could he be a brute?

"I ought to go!" he broke in unguardedly. "I mean I've got tothink--I've got work to do in the morning. Don't you suppose you couldtry?"

The moonlight was full on his face. All the laughter she knew so wellhad disappeared from his eyes. In its place she saw such a look ofyearning and worry--such a tenderness of love as no woman ever yet sawand failed to comprehend. She divined in that second that he knew whoshe was--she felt it, through all her sense of intuition and the fiberof her soul. She understood his insistence on the march, the savingmarch, straight onward without a halt. She loved him for it. She hadloved him with wild intensity, confessed at last to herself, ever sincethe moment he had appeared in the desert to save her. 

If a certain reckless abandon to this love rocked her splendidself-control, it was only because she was so utterly exhausted. Herjudgment was sound, unshaken. Nevertheless, despite judgment andall--to go on was out of the question. God had flung them out heretogether, she thought, for better or for worse. That Van would be thefine chivalrous gentleman she had felt him to be at the very firstmoment of their accidental acquaintance, she felt absolutely assured. She accepted a certain inevitable fatality in the situation---perhapsthe more readily now that she knew he knew, for she seemed so much moresecure. 

His question remained unanswered while she thought of a thousandthings. Could she try to go on?

She shook her head. "What's the use of my riding--perhaps anothermile? You might go on and send a man to guide me in the morning. "

What an effort it cost her to make such a harsh suggestion not even Vancould know. A terrible fear possessed her that he might really actupon her word. To have him stay was bad enough, but to have him gowould be terrible. 

"Hell!" he said, keeping up his acting. "You talk like a woman. Haven't I wasted time enough already without sending someone out hereto-morrow morning? What makes you think you're worth it?" He turnedhis back upon her, hung the stirrup of the saddle on the horn, andbegan to loosen the cinch. 

Like the woman that she was, she enjoyed his roughness, his impudence, and candor. It meant so much, in such a time as this. After a momentshe asked him:

"What do you mean to do?"

He hauled off the saddle and dropped it to the ground. 

"Make up the berths, " he answered. "Here's your bedding. " He tossedthe blanket down at her feet. It was warm and moist from Suvy's body. He then uncoiled his long lasso, secured an end around the pony's neck, and bade him walk away and roll. 

The broncho obeyed willingly, as if he understood. Van took up thesaddle, carried it off a bit, and dropped it as before. 

Beth still remained there, with the blanket at her feet. 

Van addressed her. "Got any matches?"

"No, " she said. "I'm afraid----"

"Neither have I, " he interrupted. "No fire in the dressing-room. Good-night. No need to set the alarm clock. I'll wake you bright andearly. " Once more he took up his saddle and started off in theankle-high brush of the plain. 

Beth watched him with many misgivings at her heart. 

"Where--where are you going?" she called. 

"To bed, " he called in response. "Want room to kick around, if I getrestless. "

She understood--but it was hard to bear, to be left so alone as this, in such a place. He went needlessly far, she was sure. 

Grateful to him, but alarmed, made weaker again by having thus to makeher couch so far from any protection, she continued to stand there, watching him depart. He stooped at last, and his pony halted near him, like a faithful being who must needs keep him always in sight. Eventhe pony would have been some company for Beth, but when Van stretchedhimself down upon the earth, with the saddle for a pillow, she felthorribly alone. 

There was nothing to do but to make the best of what the fates allowed. She curled herself down on the chilly sand with the blanket tuckedfairly well around her. But she did not sleep. She was far too tiredand alarmed. 

Half an hour later three coyotes began a fearsome serenade. Beth satup abruptly, as terrified as if she had been but a child. She enduredit for nearly five minutes, hearing it come closer all the while. Thenshe could bear it no more. She rose to her feet, caught up herblanket, and almost ran towards the pony. More softly then sheapproached the place where Van lay full length upon the ground. Shebeheld him in the moonlight, apparently sound asleep. 

As closely as she dared she crept, and once more made her bed upon thesand. There, in a child-like sense of security, with her fearlessprotector near, she listened in a hazy way to the prowling beasts, nowcruising away to the south, and so profoundly slept. 

Van had heard her come. Into his heart snuggled such a warmth and holyjoy as few men are given to feel. He, too, went to sleep, thinking ofhis nugget on her breast. 

CHAPTER XXVII

TALL STORIES

Daylight had barely broadened into morning when Van was astir from hisbed. The air was chill and wonderfully clean. Above the eastern runof hills the sun was ready to appear. 

Beth still lay deep in slumber. She had curled up like a child in hermeager covering. Van watched her from his distance. A little shiverpassed through her form, from time to time. Her hat was still inplace, but how girlish, how sweet, how helpless was her face--thelittle he could see! How he wished he might permit her to sleep it outas nature demanded. For her own sake, not for his, he must hasten heronward to Goldite, by way of the "Laughing Water" claim. 

He walked off eastward where a natural furrow made a deep depression inthe valley. His pony followed, the lasso dragging in the sand. Onceover at the furrow edge, the man took out his pistol and fired it offin the air. 

Beth was duly aroused. Van saw her leap to her feet, then hedisappeared in the hollow, with his broncho at his heels. 

The girl was, if possible, stiffer than before. But she was muchrefreshed. For a moment she feared Van was deserting, till she notedhis saddle, near at hand. Then he presently emerged upon the level ofthe plain and returned to the site of their camp. 

"First call for breakfast in the dining-car, " he said. "We can make itby half-past eight. "

"If only we could have a cup of good hot coffee first, before westart, " said Beth, and she smiled at the vainness of the thought. 

"We won't get good coffee at the claim, " Van assured her dryly. "Butnear-coffee would lure me out of this. "

He was rapidly adjusting the blanket and saddle on his horse. 

"You'll have to ride or we can't make speed, " he added. "As a walkeryou're sure the limited. "

She appreciated thoroughly the delicacy with which he meant to continuethe fiction of her sex. But he certainly was frank. 

"Thank you, " she answered amusedly. "I'd do better, perhaps, if Iweren't so over-burdened with flattery. "

"You'll have to do better, anyhow, " he observed, concludingpreparations with Suvy. "There you are. Get on. Father Time withhobbles on could beat us getting a move. "

He started off, leaving her to mount by herself. She managed thematter somewhat stiffly, suppressing a groan at the effort, and thenfor an hour she was gently pummeled into limberness as the ponyfollowed Van. 

They came at the end of that time to one of the upper reaches of thatsame river she had forded the previous day. To all appearances thewide shallow bed was a counterpart of the one over which her horse hadwaded. But the trail turned sharply down the stream, and followedalong its bank. 

They had halted for the pony to drink. Van also refreshed himself andBeth dismounted to lie flat down and quench her long, trying thirst. 

"Right across there, high up in the hills, is the 'Laughing Water'claim, " said Van, pointing north-eastward towards the mountains. "Onlythree miles away, if we could fly, but six as we have to go around. "

"And why do we have to go around?" Beth inquired. "Aren't we going tocross the river here?"

"Looks like a river, I admit, " he said, eying the placid stream. "That's a graveyard there--quicksand all the way across. "

Beth's heart felt a shock at the thought of what could occur to atraveler here, unacquainted with the treacherous waters. 

"Good gracious!" she said. She added generously: "Couldn't I walk alittle now, and--share the horse?"

"When you walk it gets on Suvy's nerves to try to keep step, " heanswered. "Fall in. "

They went two miles down the river, then, across on a rock-and-gravelbottom, at a ford directly opposite a jagged rift in the mountains. This chasm, which was short and steep, they traversed perspiringly. The sun was getting warm. Beyond them then the way was all a rough, hard climb, over ridges, down through canyons, around huge dykes ofrock and past innumerable foldings of the range. How Van knew the waywas more than Beth could understand. She was already growing weariedanew, since the night had afforded her very little rest, and she hadnot eaten for nearly a day. 

Van knew she was in no condition for the ride. He was watching herconstantly, rejoicing in her spirit, but aching for her aches. He seta faster pace for the broncho to follow, to end the climb as soon aspossible. 

At length, below a rounded ridge, where stunted evergreens made awelcome bit of greenery, he came to a halt. 

"We're almost there, " he said. "You'll have to remain at the claimtill somewhere near noon, then I'll show you the way down to Goldite. "

"Till noon?" She looked at him steadily, a light of worry in her eyesas she thought of arriving so late at Mrs. Dick's, with whatconsequences--the Lord alone knew. 

"I can't get away much earlier, " he said, and to this, by way of actinghis part, he added: "Do you want to wear me out?"

She knew what he meant. He would wait till noon to give her time torest. She would need all the rest he could make possible. And then hewould only "show her the way to Goldite. " He would not ride with herto town. She might yet escape the compromising plight into which shehad been thrust. His thoughtfulness, it seemed, could have no end. 

"Very well, " she murmured. "I'm sorry to have made you all thistrouble. " She was not--someways; she was lawlessly, inordinately glad. 

The "trouble" for Van had been the most precious experience in all hislife. 

"It has been one wild spasm of delight, " he said in his dryest mannerof sarcasm. "But between us, Kent, I'm glad it's no continuousperformance. "

He went over the ridge, she following. A moment later they werelooking down upon the "Laughing Water" claim from that self-sameeminence from which Searle Bostwick had seen it when he rode one dayfrom the Indian reservation. 

"This, " said Van, "is home. "

"Oh, " said the girl, and tears sprang into her eyes. 

And a very home, indeed, it presently seemed, when they came to theshack, where Gettysburg, Napoleon, old Dave, and even Algy, the Chinesecook, came forth to give them cordial welcome. 

Beth was introduced to all as Glenmore Kent--and passed inspection. 

"Brother of Miss Beth Kent, " said Van, "who honored us once with avisit to the Monte Cristo fiasco. He's been lost on the desert andhe's too done up to talk, so I want him to be fed and entertained. Andof the two requirements, the feed's more important than the vaudevilleshow, unless your stunts can put a man to sleep. "

Algy and Gettysburg got the impromptu breakfast together. The placersluices outside were neglected. Nobody wished to shovel sand for goldwhen marvelous tales might be exchanged concerning the wind storm thathad raged across the hills the day before. 

Indeed, as Van and Beth sat together at the board, regaling themselveslike the two famished beings they were, their three entertainersproceeded to liberate some of the tallest stories concerning stormsthat mortal ever heard. 

Napoleon and Gettysburg became the hottest of rivals in an effort todeliver something good. Gettysburg furnished a tale of a breeze in theunpeopled wilds of Nebraska where two men's farms, fully twenty milesapart, had undergone an astounding experience whereby a completeexchange of their houses, barns, and sheds had been effected by acyclone, without the slightest important damage to the structures. 

When this was concluded, Napoleon looked pained. "I think you lie, Gett--metaphorical speakin'!" he hastened to add. "But shiver mybowsprit if I didn't see a ship, once, ten days overdue, jest snatchedup and blowed into port two days ahead of time, and never touchednothing all the way, I remember the year 'cause that was the winter mahad twins and pa had guinea pigs. "

"Wal, " drawled Dave, who had all this time maintained a dignifiedsilence, "I've saw some wind, in my time, but only one that was reallya leetle mite too obstreperous. Yep, that was a pretty good blow--theonly wind I ever seen which blew an iron loggin' chain off the fence, link by link. "

Napoleon paid Dave a compliment. He said:

"You old son of a gun!"

Van thought the storms had raged sufficiently. 

"Is work unpopular, or did the wind blow the water from the creek?"

"I like to work, " admitted Gettysburg, "but it's fun to watch youepicures eatin'. "

Beth felt embarrassed. 

"Epicures?" echoed Napoleon. "You don't know what an epicure is?That's a vulgar remark when you don't know no meaning of a word. "

"Epicure? Me not know what an epicure is?" replied old Gettysburgaggressively. "You bet I do. An epicure's a feller which chaws hisfodder before he swallers it. "

Napoleon subsided. Then he arose and sauntered out to work, Dave andGettysburg following. Van hastily drank his cup of coffee, which, ashe had predicted, was not particularly good, and started for theothers. He halted in the door. 

"Make yourself comfortable, if you can here, Kent, " he said. "You hadan exhausting experience yesterday. Perhaps you had better lie down. "

Beth merely said: "Thank you. " But her smile was more radiant thansunshine. 

CHAPTER XXVIII

WORK AND SONG

Having presently finished her breakfast, Beth joined the group outside, curious to behold the workings of a placer mine in actual operation. 

There was not much to see, but it was picturesque. In their lack offunds the partners had constructed the simplest known device forcollecting the gold from the sand. They had built a line of sluices, or troughs of considerable length, propped on stilts, or supports aboutknee high, along the old bed of the canyon. The sluices were meresquare flumes, set with a fairly rapid grade. 

Across the bottom of all this flume, at every yard or less of itslength, small wooden cleats had been nailed, to form the "riffles. "Into the hoses the water from the creek was turned, at the top. Themen then shoveled the sand in the running stream and away it went, sluicing along the water-chute, its particles rattling down the woodenstairway noisily. The gold was expected to settled behind the riffles, owing to its weight. 

All the flume-way dripped from leakages. The sun beat down upon theplace unshaded. Water escaped into all the pits the men were diggingas they worked, so that they slopped around in mud above their ankles. Dave wore rubber boots and was apparently protected. As a matter offact the boots promptly filled with water. Napoleon and Gettysburgmade no effort to remain dry shod, but puddled all day with sousedfootgear. 

Van rode off to the "reservation town, " a mile below the hill, tobargain for a tent reported there for sale. Sleeping quarters here onthe claim were far too crowded. Until lumber for a cabin could bepurchased they must make what shifts they might. 

It had taken but the briefest time for the miners to go at their work. Beth stood near, watching the process with the keenest interest. Itseemed to her a back-breaking, strenuous labor. These sturdy oldfellows, grown gray and stooped with toil--grown also expectant ofhardship, ill-luck, and privations--were pathetic figures, despitetheir ways of cheer. 

That Van had attached them to himself in a largeness of heart by nomeans warranted by their worth was a conviction at which anyone mustpromptly arrive. They were lovable old scamps, faithful, honest, andloyal to the man they loved--but that was all that could be stated. Perhaps it was enough. As partners with whom to share both life andfortune they might have seemed impossible to many discerning men. 

Beth sat down on a rock, near Gettysburg. Someway she, too, liked thethree old chaps of whom work had made three trademarks. Old Gettysburgbegan to sing. The words of his song, halted by grunts as he shoveled, were, to say the least, unexpected:

 The frog he swore he'd have a ride, (Shovel) With a rinktum bolly kimo; Sword and pistols by his side, (Shovel) With a rinktum bolly kimo. For lunch he packed a beetle bug, (Shovel) With a rinktum bolly kimo; Tucked inside his tummy snug, (Shovel) With a rinktum bolly kimo. 

 Kimo, karo, pito, garo, Kimo, bolly mitty kimo. (Shovel) Shing-shang hammyriddle, allibony, ringtang, Folderolli bolly mitty kimo. (Three shovelings and some meditation)

 The frog he rode a slimy eel, (Shovel) With a rinktum bolly kimo. The sun made his complexion peel, (Shovel) With a rinktum bolly kimo. The frog's legs went to join a fry, (Shovel) With a rinktum bolly kimo. The eel became a juicy pie, (Shovel) With a rinktum bolly kimo. 

 (Chorus)

Napoleon looked up at the end of the song and spat upon his hands. 

"Gett, " he said placidly, "I think that's a lie--metaphorical speakin'. Ain't mad, are you?"

Gettysburg made no response. He merely shoveled. 

One of the sluices, weakened by a leak that had undermined its pinning, fell from place, at the farther end of the line. Old Dave went down torepair it. Napoleon took advantage of his absence to come to Beth, with an air of imparting something confidential. 

"Splice my main brace, " said he, with his head on one side, quaintly, "wasn't that a blasphermous yarn old Dave was givin' us about the windblowing that log chain away a link at a time? Old son of a gun!"

Beth was inquisitive. 

"Why do you call him a son of a gun?"

Napoleon scratched his head. 

"Well, you see, Dave's mother held up his father with a Colt forty-fiveand makes him marry her. Then along comes Dave. I reckon that makeshim a sure enough son of a gun. "

Beth said: "Oh. " She turned a little red. 

"Yep, good old cuss, Dave is, though. No good for a seafearing man, however. He could never learn to swear--he ain't got no ear for music. "

He returned to his shovel. He and Gettysburg worked in silence forfifteen minutes. Old Dave returned and joined them. Gettysburg tunedup for another of his songs, the burden of which was the tale of ahen-pecked man. 

Once more at its end Napoleon looked up and spat on his hands. 

"There ain't nothing that can keep some women down 'cept agravestone--and I've seen some gravestones which was tilted. "

Despite the interest and amusement she felt in it all, Beth wasbecoming sleepy as she sat there in the sun. She shook off the spelland arose, approaching closer to the bank and flume where Gettysburgwas toiling. He labored on, silently, for several minutes, thenpaused, straightened up by degrees, as if the folds in his back werestubborn, and looked at their visitor steadily, his glass eyeparticularly fixed. One of his hands pulled down his jaw, and then itclosed up with a thump. 

"Guess this kind of a racket is sort of new to you, Mr. Kent, " heventured. "Ever seen gold washin' before?"

"No, " Beth confessed, "and I don't see where the gold is to come fromnow. "

Gettysburg chuckled. "Holy toads! Miners do a heap of work and neversee it neither. Me and Van and Napoleon has went through purg andback, many's the time, and was lucky to git out with our skeletons, sayin' nuthin' about the gold. "

"Oh. " She could think of nothing else to say. 

"In fact Van was all that got me out onct--Napoleon, too. We wasn'tworth it, prob'ly. That's the joke on Van. Since then us three cusseshas starved, and froze, and clean roasted, chasin' gold. "

"Oh. "

"We was lost in the snow, one winter, with nuthin' to eat but a plug oftobacker, a can of vasolene, and a porous plaster. We lived on thatmenu fer a week--that and snow-soup. But Van got us out allright--packed Napoleon about five miles on his back. Nap was so thinthere wasn't enough of him to die. " His one good eye became dreamilyfocused on the past. He smiled. "But someways the desert is worsethan the snow. We got ketched three times without no water. Never didknow, Nap or me, how Van got our two old dried-up carcasses out thelast time, down to Death Valley. He's a funny cuss, old Van. "

Once more Beth merely answered: "Oh. "

"You bet!" resumed Gettysburg. "He never quits. It ain't in him. Heworks his hands off and his soul out of its socket, every time. " Helaughed heartily. "Lord! we have done an awful lot of fool work fernuthin'! We've tackled tunnels and shafts, and several games likethis, and pretty near died a dozen different styles--all uneasy kindsof dyin'--and we've lived when it was a darn sight uneasier thancroakin', and kept on tryin' out new diggin's, and kept on bein' bustedall the time. 'Nuff to make a lemon laugh, the fun we've had. Butnow, by Jupe! we've struck it at last--and it ain't a-goin' to gitaway!"

"Oh, I'm glad--I'm glad!" said Beth, winking back a bit of suspiciousmoisture that came unbidden in her eyes as she looked on thisweather-beaten, hardship-beaten old figure, still sturdily ready forthe fates. "I'm sure you all deserve it! I'm sure of that!"

"Wal, that's a question fer God Almighty, " Gettysburg replied. "Butthere's the gold, the good yellow gold! And I'm awful glad fer Van!"

Into the water he dipped his crooked old fingers, and scratching downbehind a riffle he fetched up a small amount of gold, doubly brightwith the water and the sunlight upon it. 

"Gold--and we git it easy, " he added, repeating: "I'm awful glad ferVan. You ought to see him shovel!" He dropped the gold back into thewater carelessly. "It ain't a-goin' to do us old jack-legged cussesmuch good, at our age, but I would like to go to San Francisco thissummer once, and shoot the chutes!"

CHAPTER XXIX

SUSPICIOUS ANSWERS

Beth and Van rode away from the claim just after lunch; she on aborrowed horse. The girl had not slept, but she had rested well andwas far more fit for the journey back to town than either she or Vanhad expected. 

He went with her part way only--far enough to put her safely on a trailfrom which she could not wander. They talked but little as theyrode--perhaps because they had so much to say that could not beapproached. Never for a moment did Van relax his vigilance uponhimself, or treat her otherwise than as a man for whom he had conceiveda natural liking. 

When they came to the place of parting he pulled up his broncho andfaced about in the trail. 

"Well, Kent, " he said, "so long. You'll have no trouble now. " He heldforth his hand. 

Beth gave him hers--and all her heart. Nevertheless, his clasp was asbrief as he would give to one of his sex. 

"So long, " she answered. "Good luck. I am under many obligations. "

"They won't make you very round shouldered, " he said. "See you again. "

That was their parting. He rode back at once--and Beth continued onher way. She turned three times in her saddle to watch him as he went, but she did not catch him glancing back. 

About sundown she rode into Goldite, went at once to Mrs. Dick's, andtied her horse to a post. Mrs. Dick she met in the hall. 

"Snakes alive!" exclaimed that lively little person. "If you ain'tback as natural as life!" The garb had not deceived her for a moment. "Where in the world have you been, in such a rig?"

Beth's answer was ready. 

"I went to see my brother, and had to spend the night on the desert. "

Mrs. Dick stared at her in wonder. "Talk to me about the Eastern womenbeing mollycuddles! You don't mean his cabin was blown down by thestorm?"

Beth was ill-prepared for this, but she met it. 

"I wish you could have seen that roof go by!"

"Are you hungry?" the hostess demanded. "You look all wore out. "

"I am, " Beth admitted. "Has Mr. Bostwick been here in my absence?"

"He ain't been here in anything--nope. "

Beth's relief was inexpressible. She was safe, with everything behindher! No one knew, or would ever need to know, the secret in possessionof herself and Van. 

"If anyone comes that you can send, will you kindly have my horse takenover to the stable?" she said. "I must go upstairs and rest. "

"Here's Billy Stitts a-comin' now, " replied the housewife, movingtowards the door. "He's been worried to death about you bein' gone!"

Beth ran at once for the stairs, and later, from the window, saw thefaithful old Billy leading her pony away. She closed her door, darkened the light, and soon clambered wearily into bed, where shedropped off to sleep like a child, lost to the world through the dinnerhour and till something like three in the morning. She awaked then fora moment, long enough to think of Van, then sighed in absolute comfortand turned to sleep again. 

It was nine o'clock in the morning when at last she appeared on thescene. 

"Land snakes!" said Mrs. Dick, who had heard her coming down. "Ain'tyou the sleeper! Well, I've kept your breakfast, but I couldn't keeplast night's supper. Your friend, Mr. Bostwick, was here about eight, but I told him he'd have to wait if it took you a week to come to. "

"You didn't tell him I'd been away, I hope, " said Beth, suddenlyalarmed at the thought of Searle's presence in the town. "I'd ratherno one knew but you. "

"Lord! I wouldn't tell him if a rat was dead in his pocket!" Mrs. Dickexpostulated. "I can't abide the man, and you might as well know it, even if it does hurt your feelings. "

Beth sat down to her breakfast. "You're as good as you can be. "

"Well, the breakfast ain't--'taint fresh, " said Mrs. Dick. "But I'llsee you git a decent lunch. "

She bustled off into the kitchen. Beth had barely finished eating whenBostwick again appeared. 

The man was tanned from his trip in the desert. He seemed alert, excited, keen over prospects rapidly coming to a head. 

"Well, well, Beth, " he said as he came inside the dining-room, "I'mback, you see, but I've certainly had a time of it! The car brokedown, and Glen had left Starlight when at last I arrived, and I huntedfor him all through the mountains and only found him four days ago, andwe've been going ever since. I couldn't write, but I did feel cut up, I assure you, about leaving you here alone for so long a time. "

He advanced as if to kiss her, but Beth avoided his caress. She wascalm and possessed. She meant to ascertain just how far the man wastrying to deceive her. 

"Won't you sit down, and tell me all about it, " she said. "You sawGlen four days ago?" She resumed her place in her chair. 

"Three or four days ago--I'm mixed in my dates, " he said, as he alsotook a seat. "He's looking fine, and sent his love, of course. "

That the man was lying, in every particular, she began to feelconvinced. 

"You left him well? He was feeling strong and well?"

"Never better, " he assured her. "You can see what this wonderfulsunlight does, even to me. "

"Yes, I see. And you left Starlight yesterday?"

"Yesterday afternoon. I had trouble running back. Otherwise we'd havebeen here in the evening. "

She glanced at him quickly. "We? Glen didn't come along? He isn'there?"

"Oh, no, no, certainly not, " he hastened to say. "I brought in a manwho--who is interested in the purchase we have made. "

That served to arouse her sense of wonderment at what he had reallybeen doing with her money. He was attempting to deceive her concerningGlen, and perhaps his entire story was a fabrication. 

"Oh, " she said. "Then you have purchased the mine--you and Glen?"

"Well--a few minor details remain to be concluded, " he saidoff-handedly. "We are not yet in actual possession of the property. There will be no further hitches, however--and the claim is certainlyrich. "

For the life of her she could not tell what lay at the bottom of thebusiness. The strange conflicts and discrepancies between Glen's veryown letters made the riddle utterly obscure. She felt that Searle wasfashioning falsehoods in every direction. That he had not visited Glenat all was her fixed conviction. A sudden distrust, almost a loathingfor this heavy-browed man, was settling down upon her, inescapably. Someway, somehow she must know about Glen for herself. Her ownattempted trip to Starlight had discouraged all thought of furtheradventure, and no reliance whatsoever could be placed on Searle'sreports. Perhaps the reputed mining property was likewise a myth--orif such a property existed, Glen might never have heard of it at all. But Glen's letter--she was always forgetting that letter--the one hehad written to Searle. 

She said: "Where is this mine that Glen has found?"

He colored slightly. "We have all agreed not to talk too much about ityet. It's not very far from here--I can tell you that. Precautionsare necessary where a hundred men follow every prospector about, nightand day, if he happens to have found a bit of valuable ore. A thousandmen would be after this property if they knew the way to secure it. "

Perhaps, after all, Glen, had purposely concealed this matter fromherself. Bostwick sounded plausible. Her mind reverted to herbrother's illness, for Glen to her was of far more importance than allthe mines in Nevada. 

"I am glad to hear that Glen is _well_, " she said, determined onanother tack. "He hasn't answered my letter. "

Once more Bostwick colored, beneath his tan and the gun-metal tint ofhis jaw. 

"I suppose he's been too busy, " he answered. "Have you written again?"

"Not yet, " she answered honestly. "I wasn't sure of his whereabouts. You are sure he's in Starlight now?"

"Yes--but you needn't write, " he hastened to say. "He said he mightcome, perhaps to-morrow. " He rose from his chair. "I've got to hurryoff, little girl. These negotiations cannot wait. I'll run in when Ican--this afternoon at the latest. I'm glad to see you looking sowell. " He approached her with lover-like intent. "My heart has beenempty and forlorn, away from you, Beth. Surely you have a little--alittle something for me, pet? You know how starved----"

"Oh--Mrs. Dick is coming!" she interrupted desperately. "You must havea great deal to do. "

Mrs. Dick was making a large and lively noise in the kitchen. 

Bostwick listened for a second, his deep-set eyes keenly fixed on thegirl, like very orbs of suspicion and jealousy. He lowered his voice. 

"Has that ruffian, Van Buren, been here recently?"

She raised her brows in well-feigned astonishment, "I haven't heard of any ruffian being in town. "

Bostwick studied her face for a moment in silence. 

"I'll be around this afternoon, " he repeated. "Good-by. "

He departed hurriedly, glancing at his watch as he went. 

Not a block from the house he met old Billy Stitts, who, though quiteunknown to the New York man, knew Bostwick in a way of his own. 

"Morning, Uncle. --Howdy?" he said, blocking Bostwick's path. "Back, Isee. Welcome home. I guess you don't know me as well as I know you. My name is Stitts--Billy Stitts--and I'm gittin' on fine with yourniece. I'm the one which runs her errands and gits the inside track. "

Bostwick, staring at Billy ominously, and about to sweep him aside as abit of old rubbish, too familiar and impudent for tolerance, pausedabruptly in his impulse, at a hint which Billy had supplied. 

"Oh, " he said. "How are you? So you are the friend who runs MissKent's errands? You must be the one she asked me to befriend. "

"Did she?" said old Billy, inordinately pleased. "What did I tell youabout the inside track?"

"I'm glad if you have been of use, " Bostwick told him insidiously. "You didn't say what your services have been. Just a few littleerrands, I suppose?"

"Never you mind, " said Billy, with a profoundly impressive wink. "That's between her and me. That ain't even fer you, Uncle Bostwick, "and he winked again. 

"Of course, of course, " agreed Bostwick, half consumed with rage at theold fellow's abominable manners and familiarity. "I'll keep you inmind and add some reward of my own on the next occasion. "

He bowed and hastened on his way, boiling with curiosity to know whatit was that Beth had been doing to require this old tattler's services. He meant to ascertain. His suspicions went at once to Van, at thoughtof whom he closed down his jaw like a vise. 

Filled with a turmoil of thoughts that seethed in his brain, like abrew in a witch's cauldron--some of them dark and some golden bright, and some of them red with lust for many things--he proceeded downstreet to McCoppet's place, to find himself locked out of the privateden, where the gambler was closeted with Lawrence. 

CHAPTER XXX

BETH'S ONE EXPEDIENT

Bostwick had told Beth partial truths. His journey had been hard. Hiscar had been twice disabled on the desert; Lawrence had been difficultto find; delays had confronted him at every turn, and not untilmidnight of the day before this had he come with his quarry toGoldite--barely in time to save the situation, with the reservationopening less than forty-eight hours away. 

He had not seen Glen, nor approached the town of Starlight closer thanfifteen miles. He had not yet expended Beth's money, which only thatmorning had been practically placed at McCoppet's disposal. But havingfinally landed the Government surveyor in camp, he had achieved thefirst desirable end in the game they were playing, and matters weremoving at last with a speed to suit the most exacting. 

During the interim between Searle's departure and return affairs hadbeen a trifle complicated in another direction--affairs that laybetween the gambler and his friend, the lumberman, big Trimmer. 

Trimmer had been paid one thousand dollars only of the sum agreed uponwhen he gave the name of Culver to the half-breed Indian, Cayuse. Hehad since spent his money, demanded the balance due, and threatenedMcCoppet with exposure, only to be met with a counter threat of prisonfor life as the half-breed's accomplice in the crime. McCoppet meantto pay a portion of the creature's price, but intended to get it fromBostwick. Indeed, to-day he had the money, but was far too muchengrossed with Lawrence to give the lumberman a thought. 

Trimmer, waxing greedy through the ease with which he had blackmailedMcCoppet, had developed a cunning of his own. Convinced that thegambler was accustomed to incubating plans in his private office, thelumberman made shift to excavate a hole beneath the floor of thatparticular den of privacy, and, after having spent half a night invain, in this place of concealment, was at last being duly rewarded ashe listened to McCoppet and Lawrence. 

With his ear to a knot-hole he gathered in everything essential to aknowledge of the plot. He became aware that Lawrence "fell" for twentythousand dollars; he overheard the details of the "survey" about to bemade; but to save his very life he could not have fathomed the meansthat were about to be employed to "jump" the mining property belongingto Van Buren and his partners. 

Equipped with this latest means of squeezing McCoppet, the creatureemerged from his hole in time to meet the gambler at the bar, during amoment of Bostwick's temporary absence. 

"Opal, " he said significantly, "I need to see you fer a minute. Itwon't be no healthier to refuse me now than it was the first time Icome. "

The gambler looked at him coldly. "I haven't got time to talk now, Larry, but some of your money is at your order any time you want it, ingold, or poker chips, or gin. "

Trimmer was placated. "All right, " he said, and cunningly resolved, upon the spot, to keep his latest secret on the ice. 

Lawrence had already disappeared to hasten arrangements for getting outupon his work. 

Bostwick had waited half an hour in the utmost impatience. With ahundred things to increase his restlessness of mind and body, he hadfinally gone to the postoffice and there discovered a letter fromGlenmore Kent. 

It was short, and now no longer fresh. It had been composed just afterthe young man's accident, and after relating how he had received a notinconsiderable injury, requested Searle to come to Starlight at once, if possible, and not to divulge any needless facts to Beth. 

"I'm broke, and this knock puts me down and out, " the letter concluded. "Come down, like a good old chap, and cheer me up. "

Bostwick destroyed the letter promptly, lest it fall by some accidentinto other hands than his own. Not without a slight feeling of guilt, the man shut out all thought, for the present, of deserting Goldite andthe plot. That Beth would learn nothing from himself as to Glen'scondition was a certainty. He was glad of this wisdom in the boy--thisshow of courage whereby he had wished his sister spared. 

But the more he thought upon Beth's attitude towards himself, and themystifying confessions old Billy Stitts had made, concerning theerrands he was running for the girl, the more Bostwick fretted andwarmed with exasperation, suspicion, and jealousy. He returned toMcCoppet's. The door to the den was still barred. Impatiently hestarted again for Mrs. Dick's. He was not in the least certain as towhat he meant to do or say, but felt obliged to do something. 

Meantime, Beth had written to her brother. Bostwick's evasions andlies had aroused more than merely a vague alarm in her breast. She hadbegun to feel, perhaps partially by intuition, that something wasaltogether wrong. Searle's anxiety to assure her she need not write toGlen--that he was coming to Goldite--had provided the one requiredelement to excite a new trend in her thought. She knew that Glen wouldnot come soon to town. She knew she must get him word. She hadthought of one way only to insure herself and Glen against deceit--askVan to go in person with her letter, and bring her Glen's reply. 

Had she felt the affair to be in the slightest degree unimportant shemight have hesitated to think of making this request, but the more shedwelt upon it the more essential it seemed to become. Her brothersvery life might be dependent upon this promptness of action. A verylarge sum of money was certainly involved in some sort of business ofwhich, she felt, both she and Glen were in ignorance. Bostwick hadcertainly not seen Glen at all. His deceptions might meananything!--the gravest of dangers to them all!

It had taken her the briefest time only to resolve upon her course--andthen old Billy came upon the scene, as if in answer to a question shehad asked--how to get her request and the letter to Glen across thehills to Van, at the "Laughing Water" claim?

Three letters she wrote, and tore to scraps, before one was finallycomposed to express all she felt, in the way that she wished itexpressed. Old Billy went off to wait and returned there duly, enormously pleased by his commission. He knew the way to the "LaughingWater" claim and could ride the borrowed pony. 

As pleased as a dog with a parcel of meat, entrusted to his keeping bya confident master, he finally started for the hay-yard, with twodainty letters in his keeping. One was to Van, with Beth's request;the other was, of course, to her brother. 

Bostwick met the proud old beau at the corner of the street. 

"Say, Uncle, what did I tell you, " said Billy at once. "This time it'sthe biggest errand yet. "

Bostwick had wondered if he might not catch Mr. Stitts in some suchservice as he boasted now, and his wit was worthy of his nature. 

"Yes, " he said readily, "Miss Kent was saying she thought perhaps shecould get you to carry a note to Mr. Van Buren. " It was a hazardouscoup but he dared it with the utmost show of pleasure in his smile. For a second, however, as he watched the old man's face, he feared hehad overshot the mark. 

Old Billy was pleased and disappointed together. However, his wish toprove his importance greatly outweighed his chagrin that Beth shouldhave taken even "Uncle" Bostwick into her confidence. 

"That ain't all she give me, " he announced, as foolishly as a child. "I've got her letter to her brother, over to Starlight, too, andnothin' couldn't stop me from takin' it up to the 'Laughing Water'claim. You bet I'll see Van Buren gits it right into his hand from me!"

If Bostwick had contemplated making an attempt to bribe the old beauinto permitting him a glance at the letters, he abandoned the thoughtwith sagacious alacrity. He must think of something safer. A letterto Van Buren and one to Glen was more than he had counted ondiscovering. It made him decidedly uneasy. 

"I'm sure you'll deliver everything safely, " he said, masking hisannoyance with a smile. "Before you go, perhaps, you'd take somethingto drink. "

The suggestion in his mind was crude, but at least it was something. 

"Huh!" said old Billy, "Me!--drink and git a jag when she's expectin'me to hike right out of camp? Guess you don't know me, Uncle, notworth a mice! Didn't I say nuthin' couldn't stop me? And I'm goin'right now. "

He clapped his bony old hand over his pocket, where the two preciousletters reposed, and winking prodigiously at Bostwick, departedforthwith from the scene. 

Bostwick could have run him down, beaten him to the ground and snatchedthe letters from him, but he did not dare. Instead, he merelycontinued to grin while Billy remained in sight. Then instead of goingon to Beth's, he circled a building and returned down street towardsMcCoppet's. 

CHAPTER XXXI

MCCOPPET BUSIES HIS MIND

Unfortunately for Bostwick he knew no ruffians in the camp--none of theTrimmers who would, perhaps, accept a sum of money to waylay a man, bash him over the head, and filch required letters from his pocket. Hewas not precisely willing, moreover, to broach such an undertaking tothe gambler. This, after all, was his private affair, to be sharedwith no one he knew. 

The man had arrived at the truth concerning the letters withcommendable skill in deduction. He had himself destroyed Beth'searlier letter to her brother, for reasons of policy. He had found herconduct cold, if not suspicious, this morning. How far she had beenexcited to distrust himself or the mails he could not estimate. He wascertain, however, she had sent a request to Van Buren to carry a letterto Glen. 

Her reasons for taking precautions so extraordinary were undoubtedlysignificant. He was galled; his anger against Van Buren was consuming. But first and foremost he must block the harm Beth's letter to herbrother might accomplish. For two days more young Kent and Beth mustremain in ignorance of what was being done through the use of hermoney--of the fact that no mine of Glen's discovery was the object ofthe scheme he was working, and that none of his own alleged money wasbeing employed in the game. 

He made up his mind to go to Starlight himself--to be on hand when VanBuren should arrive. With Glenmore ill, or injured, in his bed, thecase might offer simple handling, Further neglect of Glenmore might, indeed, be fatal, at a juncture so delicate. From every possibleviewpoint the thing to do was to intercept Van Buren. 

He found McCoppet just returned from launching Lawrence forth upon hiswork. Three of the gambler's chosen men had accompanied theGovernment's surveyor. They had taken Bostwick's car. Instructionshad been simple enough. Push over the reservation line to cover the"Laughing Water" claim, by night of the following day. 

Searle was taken to the private den. McCoppet imparted his informationwith the utmost brevity. 

"Nothing for us to do but to wait till six o'clock, day after to-morrowmorning, " he concluded, "then play our cards--and play 'em quick. "

"You've taken my car?" said Bostwick, whose personal plans were throwninto utter confusion, for the moment. "I wanted that car for my ownuse. I've got to go to Starlight to-morrow. "

"Sit down, " said McCoppet, throwing away his unsmoked cigar and takinganother from his pocket. "What's going on at Starlight?"

Bostwick had no intention of divulging his personal affairs, but therewas something in this that trenched upon "company" concerns. 

"Van Buren's going over there, to see young Kent, " he admitted. "I'vegot to see him first. "

McCoppet looked up at him sharply. 

"Young Kent ain't next to anything?" he demanded. 

"Not yet. "

"Look here, " said the gambler, whose wits were inordinately keen, "isanything leaking, Bostwick? What about the girl--the young chump'ssister? You're not putting her wise to the layout?"

"Certainly not!" said Bostwick. "She knows nothing. But it wouldn'tbe safe for this mix-up to occur. At any rate, I propose to be therewhen Van Buren arrives. "

McCoppet arose, plunged his hands in his pockets, and paced up and downreflectively. 

"Someways I'm glad Van Buren's going, " he said. "I've been trying tofigure how I could play the game to have him away when we come to takethe trick. He's hostile in a fight. I guess it's all right. Don'tneed you here. You can copper any possible harm down there atStarlight, and meantime I'll see if there's any known way of delayingVan Buren's return. "

"But how am I going to get down there and back?" said Bostwick, intentupon the need for haste. "I can't get around without a car. "

"Don't get tropical, " said McCoppet calmly. "I can get you a car infifteen minutes. It ain't as good as yours, but we needed the one thatwas surest to keep on its legs. If you ain't got anything more on yourmind, I want to chase around for a lumberman--a friend of mine--beforehe gits any drunker. "

Bostwick arose. 

"Arrange for that car to take me to-night, after dinner. I thinkthat's all. "

He repaired to his room to attend to a dozen small affairs, then wentonce more to Beth's. She was not in the least surprised to hear himsay he meant to return to Starlight and to Glen that night, on businessof importance to them all, but she did not believe him in the least. He remained in the hope of entrapping her into some sort ofself-betrayal as to what she had recently done, but without avail. 

The hour that he spent at Mrs. Dick's was dull for them both--dull anddistasteful to the girl, growing so rapidly to hate and distrust him, dull and aggravating to Bostwick, with jealousy increasing upon him. His one consolation lay in the fact that in less than two days VanBuren would be no better off than a pauper at best with scarcely ashelter for his head. 

One of the interesting and vital chapters in the whole affair wasmeanwhile in McCoppet's hands and receiving his attention. Trimmer hadbeen captured, far more sober than the gambler could have hoped. Thetwo were in the den once more, the lumberman smoking an excellent cigaras if it had been a stick of candy. 

McCoppet came to his subject promptly. 

"Look here, Larry, " he said, "you know Van Buren when you see him. "

Trimmer glanced up sharply, ready in an instant to resent what he feltto partake of the nature of a personal affront. 

"Don't git funny, Opal. If ever I fight Van Buren when I'm sober I'lleat him alive. I was drunk when he licked me, and you know it!"

McCoppet leaned back in his chair and half closed his eyes. 

"I didn't know but what you'd like to sober up and lick him. "

Trimmer stared, shifted uneasily in his seat, and demanded:

"Where? Where is he at?"

"He's going to Starlight to-morrow--from up by the reservation--fromhis claim. If he don't git back for a couple of days--I could make itworth your while; and you could cash in for that time he licked youwhen you wasn't in condition. "

Again Trimmer fidgeted. "I guess he licked me fair enough. I admithe's all right in a scrap. I ain't holdin' nuthin' agin him. Goldite's good enough fer me. "

McCoppet knew the creature was afraid to meet his man--that Trimmer'sattack on Van Buren, once before, had been planned with muchdeliberation, had amounted to an ambush, in point of fact, resulting indisaster to the bully. 

"I counted on you to help me, Larry, " he said, drumming on the tablewith his fingers. "You're the only man of your kind with brains in allthe camp. "

Trimmer had smoked his cigar to within an inch of his mouth. Heextinguished the fire and chewed up the stump voraciously. 

"Say!" he suddenly ejaculated, leaping to his feet and coming aroundthe table, "I can fix him all right, " and he lowered his voice to awhisper. "Barger would give up a leg to git a show at Van Buren!"

"Barger?" echoed McCoppet. "Matt? But they got him! Got 'em all. "

"Got nuthin', " the lumberman ejaculated. "What's the good of allthese lyin' papers when I seen Matt myself, readin' the piece about himgoin' back to the pen?"

McCoppet rose, went to the window, and returned again. 

"Larry, you're all right, " he said. "Where's Barger now?"

Trimmer winked. "That's his business, and mine. "

"All right--that's all right, " agreed the gambler. "Wouldn't he takeit as a favor if you passed him some money and the word about VanBuren's hike to Starlight?"

Trimmer got out a new cigar, lit up, and began to smoke as before. 

"I was goin' to pass him some of mine, " he confessed. "Yours will suitme just as good. "

"Five hundred ought to help him some, " said the gambler. "Come out tothe bar. "

At dark the lumberman left the camp on foot, heading for the mountains. Bostwick departed in the borrowed car at eight. The whole town wasablaze with light, and tumultuous with sound. Glare and disturbancetogether, however, only faintly symbolized the excitement and fever inthe camp. A thousand men were making final preparations for the rushso soon to come--the mad stampede upon the reservation ground, barelymore than a day removed. 

Miners with outfits, gamblers with their paraphernalia, saloon men withcase on case of liquors, assayers, lawyers, teamsters, cooks--even ahalf dozen women--comprised the heterogeneous army making ready for thecharge. The streets were filled with horses, men, and mules. Thesaloons were jammed to suffocation. Musical discord filled the air. Only the land, the silent old hills, the ancient, burned-out furnace ofgold, was absolutely calm. Overhead a few clouds blurred the sky. Beyond them the eternal march of the stars proceeded in the majesty ofspace, with billions of years in which to fulfil the cosmic cycle ofexistence. 

CHAPTER XXXII

THE HARDSHIPS OF THE TRAIL

In the night, far out to the northward, a storm descended like acataclysm. Torrential rains were poured upon the hills from acloudburst exceptionally savage. Only the scattered outposts, as itwere, of the storm were blown as far as Goldite. A sprinkle of rainthat dried at once was the most those mountains received. 

Van made an early start from the "Laughing Water" claim, to deliverBeth's letter in Starlight. Her note to himself he read once more ashis pony jogged down the descent. 

"Dear Mr. Van: I wonder if I dare to ask a favor--from one who has doneso much already? My brother, in Starlight, is ill. He has hurthimself, I do not know how badly. A letter I sent has never beenreceived, and I am worried. The effort I made to see him--well--atleast, I'm glad I made the effort. But meantime, what of poor Glen?Some little fear I have may be groundless. I shall therefore keep itto myself--but I have it, perhaps because I am a woman. I must knowthe truth about my brother--how he is--what has been happening. It isfar more important than I dare confess. I have written him a letterand sent it to you in the hope you may not find it impossible to carryit to Glen in person. If I am asking too much, please do not hesitateto say so. I am sure you will be friendly enough for that--to say 'no'if need be to another friend--_your_ friend, BETH KENT. "

She did not regret that desert experience--that was almost enough forhim to know! He had lived in a glow since that wonderful night--andthis letter provided another. He rode like a proud young crusader ofold, with his head in a region of sunshine and gold, his visiontransfixed by a face. Her love had become his holy grail--and for thathe would ride to death itself. 

His way he shortened, or thought to shorten, by dropping down from thereservation heights to the new-made town a mile below. He came uponthe place abruptly, after dipping once into a canyon, and looked withamazement on the place. In the past twelve hours it had doubled insize and increased twenty-fold in its fever. The face of the desertwas literally alive with men and animals. Half of Goldite andpractically all of a dozen lesser camps were there. Confusion, discomfort, and distraction seemed hopelessly enthroned. The "rush"was written in men's faces, in their actions, in their baggage, words, and rising temperature. 

A dozen stalwart stampeders pounced upon Van like wolves. They wantedto know what he thought of the reservation, where to go, whether or notthere was any more ground like that of the "Laughing Water" claim, whathe had heard from his Indian friends, and what he would take for hisplacer. The crowd about him rapidly increased. Men in a time ofexcitement such as this flock as madly as sheep whenever one may lead. Anything is news--any man is of interest who has in his pocket a pieceof rock, or has in his eye a wink. No man is willing to be leftoutside. He must know all there is to be known. 

It was utterly useless for Van to protest his ignorance of thereservation ground. He owned a deposit of placer gold. Success hadcrowned his efforts. It was something to get in touch with success, rub shoulders with a man who had the gold. 

His friends were there in the red-faced mob. They said they were hisfriends, and they doubtless knew. Some were, indeed, old acquaintanceswhom Van would gladly have assisted towards a needed change of fortune. He was powerless, not only to aid these men, but also to escape. Despite his utmost endeavors they held him there an hour, and to makeup the time, he chose the hottest, roughest trail through the range, when at last he was clear of the town. 

The climb he made on his pony to slice a few miles from his route wasover a mountain and through a gulch that was known as The Devil'sSlide. It was gravel that moved underfoot with never-failingtreachery, gravel made hot by the rays of the sun, and flinging up ascorching heat while it crawled and blistered underfoot. On midsummerdays men had perished here, driven mad by the dancing of the air andthe dread of the movement where they trod. The last two miles of thisdesolate slope Van walked and led his broncho. 

He entered "Solid Canyon" finally, and mounting once more let Suvy pickthe way between great boulders, where gray rattlesnakes abounded inexceptional numbers. These were the hardships of the ride, all therewere that Van felt worth the counting. He had reckoned without thatfar-off storm, which had raged in the darkness of the night. 

He came to the river, the ford between the banks where he and Beth hadfound a shallow stream. For a moment he stared at it speechlessly. Agreat, swiftly-moving flood was there, tawny, roiled with the mud torndown and dissolved in the water's violence, and foaming still from aplunge it had taken above. 

It was ten to twenty feet deep. This Van realized as he sat there onhis sweating horse, measuring up the banks. The depth had encroachedupon the slope whereon he was wont to ascend the further side. Therewas one place only where he felt assured a landing might be achieved. 

"Well, Suvy, " he said to the animal presently, "it looks more like aswim than a waltz quadrille, and neither of us built web-footed. "

Without further ado he placed Beth's letter in his hat, then rode hispony down the bank and into the angry-looking water. Suvy halted amoment uncertainly, then, like his master, determined to proceed. 

Five feet out he was swimming, headed instinctively up the stream andburied deep under the surface. Van still remained in the saddle. Hewas more than waist under, loosely clinging to his seat and giving thepony the reins. 

Suvy was powerful, he swam doggedly, but the current was tremendous inits sheer liquid mass and momentum. Van slipped off and swam by thebroncho's side. Together the two breasted the surge of the tide, andnow made more rapid progress. It required tremendous effort to forgeahead and not be swept headlong to a choppy stretch of rapids, justbelow. 

"Up stream, boy, up stream, " said Van, as if to a comrade, for he hadnoted the one likely place to land, and Suvy was drifting too fardownward. 

They came in close to the bank, as Van had feared, below the one fairlanding. Despite his utmost efforts, to which the pony willinglyresponded, they could not regain what had been lost. The broncho madea fine but futile attempt to gain a footing and scramble up the almostperpendicular wall of rock and earth by which he was confronted. Timeafter time he circled completely in the surge, to no avail. He mayhave become either confused or discouraged, Whichever it was, heturned about, during a moment when Van released the reins, and swamsturdily back whence he come. 

Van, in the utmost patience, turned and followed. Suvy awaited hisadvent on the shore. 

"Try to keep a little further up, boy, if you can, " said the man, andhe mounted and rode as before against the current. 

The broncho was eager to obey directions, eager to do the bidding ofthe man he strangely loved. All of the first hard struggle wasrepeated--and the current caught them as before. Again, as formerly, Van slipped off and swam by his pony's side. He could not hold hisshoulder against the animal, and guide him thus up the stream, but wastrailed out lengthwise and flung about in utter helplessness, forming adrag against which the pony's most desperate efforts could not prevail. 

They came to the bank precisely as they had before, and once again, perhaps more persistently, Suvy made wild, eager efforts to scrambleout where escape was impossible. Again and again he circled, pawed thebank, and turned his eyes appealingly to Van, as if for help orsuggestions. 

At last he acknowledged defeat, or lost comprehension of the struggle. He swam as on the former trial to the bank on the homeward side. 

There was nothing for Van but to follow as before. When he came out, dripping and panting, by the animal, whose sides were fairly heaving ashe labored for breath, he was still all cheer and encouragement. 

"Suvy, " said he, "a failure is a chap who couldn't make a fire in hell. We've got to cross this river if we have to burn it up. "

He took the broncho's velvety nose in his hands and gave him a roughlittle shake. Then he patted him smartly on the neck. 

"For a pocket-size river, " he said as he looked at the flood, "this iscertainly the infant prodigy. Well, let's try it again. "

Had the plunge been straight to sudden death that broncho would haverisked it unswervingly at the urging of his master. Suvy was somewhatexhausted by the trials already made, in vain. But into the turgiddown-sweep he headed with a newly conjured vigor. 

Van now waited merely for the pony to get started on his way, when helifted away from the saddle, with the water's aid, and clung snugly upto the stirrup. He swam with one hand only. To keep himself afloatand offer no resistance to the broncho was the most that he could do, and the best. 

The struggle was tremendous. Suvy had headed more obliquely thanbefore against the current, and having encountered a greaterresistance, with his strength somewhat sapped, was toiling like anengine. 

Inch by inch, foot by foot, he forged his way against the liquid wallthat split upon him. Van felt a great final quiver of muscular energyshake the living dynamic by his side, as Suvy poured all his fine youngmight into one supreme effort at the end. Then he came to the landing, got all his feet upon the slope, and up they heaved in triumph!

CHAPTER XXXIII

THE CLOUDS OF TROUBLE GATHER

By the route beyond the river that Van was obliged to choose, thedistance from his claim to Starlight was more than forty miles. Hispony had no shoes, and having never been ridden far, was a trifle softfor a trip involving difficulties such as this mountain work abundantlyafforded. When they came to Phonolite Pass, the last of the cut-offson the trail, Van rode no more than a hundred yards into its shadowsbefore he feared he must turn. 

Phonolite is broken shale, a thin, sharp rock that gives forth apleasant, metallic sound when struck, like shattered crockery. For amile this deposit lay along the trail across the width of the pass. For the bare-footed pony there was cruelty in every step. The barrierof rock was far more formidable than the river in its flood. 

Van was not to be halted in his object. He had a letter to deliver; hemeant to take it through, though doom itself should yawn across hispath. The hour was late; the sun was rapidly sinking. Van pulled uphis broncho and debated. 

Absolute silence reigned in the world of mountains. But if the placeseemed desolate, it likewise seemed secure. Nevertheless, death lurkedin the trail ahead. Barger was there. He was lying in the rocks, concealed where the chasm was narrow. He had ridden four hours--on themare Beth had lost--to arrive ahead of Van Buren. The muzzle of a longblack revolver that he held in hand rested upon a shattered boulder. His narrow eyes lay level with a rift in the group of rocks that hidhim completely from view. Van was in sight, and the convict's breathcame quickly as he waited. 

Van dismounted from his pony's back and picked up one of his hoofs. 

"Worn down pretty flat, " he told the animal. "Perhaps if I walk we canmake it. " He started on foot up the tinkling way, watching the bronchowith solicitude. 

Suvy followed obediently, but the pointed rocks played havoc with hisfeet. He lurched, in attempting to right his foot on one that turned, and the long lassoo, secured to the saddle, flopped out, fell back, andmade him jump. Van halted as before. The convict was barely fiftyyards away. His pistol was leveled, but he waited for a deadlier aim, a shorter shot. 

"Nope! We'll have to climb the hill, " Van decided reluctantly. "You're a friend of mine, Suvy, and even if you weren't, you'd have tolast to get back. " He turned his back on death, unwittingly, to sparethe horse he loved. 

Delayed no less than an hour by this enforced retreat, he patiently ledthe broncho back to the opening of the pass, and, still on foot, ledthe steep way up over the mountain. 

Barger rose up and cursed himself for not having risked a shot. Hedared not attempt a dash upon his man; he could not know where Vanmight again be intercepted; he was helpless, baffled, enraged. Halfstarved, keenly alive only in his instinct to accomplish his revenge, the creature was more like a hunted, retaliating animal than like aman. He had sworn to even the score with Van Buren; he was not to bedeflected from his course. But to get his man here was no longerpossible. The horse Beth had lost, now in the convict's possession, was all but famished for water, not to mention food. There was nothingto choose but retreat towards the river, to the northward, where themountains might yet afford an ambush as Van was returning home. 

Far away in the mountains, at the "Laughing Water" claim, while the sunwas setting on a scene of labors, all but concluded for the day, thegroup of surveyors, with Lawrence in charge, appeared along thesouthern ridge. 

Gettysburg, Napoleon, and Dave were still in the water by the sluices. They were grimed, soiled with perspiration, wearied by the long, hardday of toil. Shovel in hand old Gettysburg discovered the men with aninstrument who trekked along the outside edge of the claim. Chain-man, rod-man, and Lawrence with his shining theodolite, set on its threeslender legs, they were silhouetted sharply against the evening sky. Their movements and their presence here were beyond the partners'comprehension. It was Gettysburg who climbed up the slope, andanchored himself in their path. 

"What you doin'?" he said to the rod-man presently, when that tiredindividual approached and continued on his way. 

"What does it look like--playing checkers?" said the man. "Can't theGovernment do nuthin'--run no county line ner nuthin' without everybodysittin' up to notice?"

No less than fifty men they had met that day had questioned what theGovernment was doing. The "county line" suggestion had been the onlyhint vouchsafed--and that had sufficed to allay the keenest suspicion. 

"That all?" said Gettysburg, and, watching as he went, he slowlyreturned to his partners. His explanation was ample. The surveyorsproceeded on. 

Meantime, in absolute ignorance of all that was happening on hisproperty, Van continued towards Starlight unmolested. An hour aftersundown he rode to the camp, inquired his way to the rough-board shack, where Kent was lying ill, and was met at the door by a stranger, whomGlen had employed as cook and "general nurse. "

Bostwick was there. He remained unseen. His instructions wereimperative--and the "nurse" had no choice but to obey. 

"Of course, Kent's here, " he admitted, in response to Van's firstquestion. "He can't see no one, neither--no matter who it is. "

"I've brought a letter from his sister, " Van explained. "He's got tohave it, and have it now. If he wishes to send any answer back, I'mhere to take it. "

The "nurse" looked him over. 

"The orders from the doctor is no visitors!" he said. "And that goes. If you want to leave the letter, why you kin. "

Van produced the letter. 

"If the man's as ill as that, I have no desire to butt in for aninterview, " he said. "Oblige me by ascertaining at your earliestconvenience whether or not I may be of service to Mr. Kent in returninghis reply. "

The man looked bewildered. He received the letter, somewhat dubiously, and disappeared. Van waited. The reception was not precisely what hemight have expected, but, for the matter of that, neither had the tripbeen altogether what he might have chosen. 

It was fully twenty minutes before the nurse reappeared. 

"He was just woke up enough to say thank you and wants to know ifyou'll oblige him with the favor of takin' his hand-write back to hissister in the mornin'?"

Van looked him over steadily. After all, the man within might beutterly sick and weak. His request was natural. And the service wasfor Beth. 

"Certainly, " he said. "I'll be here at seven in the morning. "

Starlight was nearly deserted. Gratified to discover sufficient foodand bedding for himself and his pony, Van made no complaint. 

At six in the morning he was rousing up the blacksmith, fortunately notyet gone to join the reservation rush. Suvy was shod, and at seveno'clock he and Van were again at Glenmore's cabin. 

His man was in waiting. In his hand he held an envelope, unsealed. 

"Mr. Kent's asleep, but here's his hand-write to his sister, " he said. "He wants you to read it out before you hike. "

Van received the envelope, glanced at the man inquiringly, and removeda single sheet of paper. It was not a note from Glen; it appeared tobe the final page of Beth's own letter to her brother. Van knew thestrong, large chirography. His eye ran swiftly over all the lines. 

"--so I felt I ought to know about things, and let you know of what isgoing on. There is more that I cannot tell you. I wrote you much inmy former letter--much, I mean, about the man who will carry thisletter, so unsuspiciously--the man I shall yet repay if it lies withinmy power. For the things he has done--and for what he is--for what herepresents--this is the man I hate more than anything or anyone else inthe world. You would understand me if you knew it all--all! Let himcarry some word from you to Your loving sister, BETH. "

Van had read and comprehended the full significance of the lines beforehe realized some error had been made--that this piece of Beth's letterhad been placed by mistake in the envelope for him to take, instead ofthe letter Glen had written. 

He did not know and could not know that Bostwick, within, by the sickman's side, had kept Glen stupid and hazy with drugs, that the one word"hate" had been "love" on the sheet he held in his hand till altered bythe man from New York, or that something far different from an utterlydespicable treachery towards himself had been planned in Beth's warm, happy heart. 

The thing, in its enormity, struck him a blow that made him reel, for amoment, till he could grasp at his self-control. He had made no sign, and he made none now as he folded the sheet in its creases. 

"I'm afraid you made some mistake, " he said. "This is not the notefrom Mr. Kent. Perhaps you will bring me the other. "

"What?" said the man, unaware of the fact that Bostwick had purposelyarranged this scheme for putting the altered sheet in Van Buren's hands. 

"What's that?" He glanced at the sheet in genuine surprise. "Keerect, " he said. "I'll go and git you the letter. "

Van mounted his horse. His face had taken on a chiseled appearance, asif it had been cut in stone. He had ridden here through desert heatand flood, for this--to fetch such a letter as this, to a man he hadnever seen nor cared to see, and whose answer he had promised to return. 

He made no effort to understand it--why she should send him when theregular mail would have answered every purpose. The vague, dark hintscontained in her letter--hints at things going on--things she could nottell--held little to arouse his interest. A stabbed man would havetaken more interest in the name of the maker of the weapon, stamped onthe dagger's blade, than did Van in the detail of affairs betweenGlenmore Kent and his sister. Beth had done this thing, and he hadfondly believed her love was welded to his own. She had meant it, then, when she cried in her passion that she hated him for what he haddone. Her anger that night upon the hill by Mrs. Dick's had not beenjealousy of Queenie, but rage against himself. She was doubtless inlove with Bostwick after all--and would share this joke with her lover. 

He shrugged his shoulders. Luck had never been his friend. By whatright had he recently begun to expect her smile? And why had hecontinued, for years, to believe in man or in Fate? All the madness ofjoy he had felt for days, concerning Beth and the "Laughing Water"claim, departed as if through a sieve. He cared for nothing, theclaim, the world, or his life. As for Beth--what was the use ofwishing to understand?

The "nurse" came out at the door again, this time with a note whichBostwick had written, with a few suggestions from Glen, in an unsealedcover as before. 

"I told young Kent you didn't take no time to read the other, " he said, holding up the epistle. "If you want to read this----"

"Thank you, " Van interrupted, taking the letter and thrusting it atonce in his pocket. "Thank Mr. Kent for his courtesies, in my behalf. "He turned and rode away. 

CHAPTER XXXIV

THE TAKING OF THE CLAIM

Before six o'clock that morning, while Van was arousing the blacksmith, the reservation madness broke its bounds. Twenty-five hundredgold-blinded men made the rush for coveted grounds. 

The night had been one long revel of drinking, gambling, andexcitement. No one had slept in the reservation town--for no one haddared. Bawling, singing, and shouting, the jollier element had shamedthe coyotes from the land. Half a thousand camp fires had flared allnight upon the plain. The desert had developed an oasis of flowingliquors, glaring lights, and turmoil of life, lust, and laughter. Goodnature and bitter antagonism, often hand in hand, had watched the nighthours pale. 

By daylight the "dead line" of the reservation boundary--the old, accepted line that all had acknowledged--resembled a thin, dark battleformation, ready for the charge. It was a heterogeneous array, whereevery unit, instead of being one of an army mobilized against a commonfoe, was the enemy of all the others, lined up beside him. There weremen on foot, men on horses, mules, and burros, men in wagons, buckboards, and buggies, and men in automobiles. 

At half-past five the pressure of greed became too great to bear. Afew unruly stragglers, far down the line, no longer to be held incheck, bent portions of the long formation inward as they started outacross the land. The human stampede began almost upon the instant. Keepers on their horses, riding up and down, were swept away like chipsbefore a flood. Scattering wildly over hill and plain, throughgulches, swales, and canyons, the mad troop entered on the unknownfield, racing as if for their lives. 

Gettysburg, Napoleon, and Dave had watched for an hour the human hedgebelow the "Laughing Water" claim. They, too, had been up sincedaylight, intent upon seeing the fun. They had eaten their breakfastat half-past four. At a quarter of six they returned, to their shackand began at their daily work. 

The cold mountain stream, diverted to the sluices, went purling downover the riffles. The drip from countless negligible leaks commencedin its monotony. Into the puddles of mud and water the three oldminers sloshed, with shovels and picks in hand. They were tired beforetheir work began. Gettysburg, at sixty-five, had been tired fortwenty-five years. Nevertheless, he began his day with song, hischeery, Rinktum bolly kimo. 

They were only fairly limbered up when four active men appearedabruptly on the property, at the corners of the claim, and began thework of putting up white location posts, after knocking others down. They were agents employed by McCoppet, in behalf of Bostwick andhimself. 

Napoleon was the first to note their presence. He was callingattention to the nearest man when a fifth man appeared by the cabin. He, too, had a new location post, or stake, to be planted at the centerof the claim. He was not only armed as to weapons, but protruding fromhis pocket was a wad of "legal" documents, more to be feared than hisgun. 

He came straight towards Gettysburg, walking briskly. 

"Morning, " he said. "I've come to notify you men to get off of thishere claim. This ground belongs to me and my partners, by right ofprior location--made right now. "

He thrust his stake a little into the yielding sand and had posted anotice, made out in due form, before the wet old workers by the sluicecould conclude that the man had lost his wits. 

"What you givin' us, anyway?" said Gettysburg, remaining ankle-deep inthe mud. "Don't you know this here is the 'Laughin' Water' claim, which was located proper----"

"This claim on the reservation, " interrupted McCoppet's agent. "Theline was run out yesterday, according to Government instructions, andthe line takes in this ground. " He continued at his work. 

Napoleon got stirred up then and there. 

"You're a liar!" he cried out recklessly, "--metaphorical speakin'. Belay there, my hearty. You and your dog-gone pirate craft----"

McCoppet himself, on horseback, came riding down the slope. 

"That's enough from you!" interrupted the gambler's agent. "You andyour crowd is liable for trespass, or Government prosecution, gettingon the reservation land ahead of date. This ground belongs to me andmy company, understand, with everything on it--and all the gold you'vetook out! And all you take away is your personal effects--and you take'em and git, right now!"

"Now hold on, " said Gettysburg, dazed by what he heard. "I seen thatGovernment surveyor cuss. He said he was only running out a countyline. "

McCoppet took the case in hand, as he halted by the boxes. 

"Now, boys, don't waste your time in argument, " he said. "You've madea mistake, that's all. Take my advice and hike to the reservation now, before the gang stakes everything in sight. You can't go up againstthe law, and you've done too much illegal work already. "

"Illegal?" cried Napoleon. "You're a liar, Opal. Ain't mad, are you?I've drunk at your saloon, and you know this claim belongs to Van andus!"

"Don't I say you've made a mistake?" repeated the gambler. "I don'thold any feelings about it. Nobody was on for a sure thing about thereservation line till Lawrence run it out. We had suspicions, from astudy of the maps, but it took the Government surveyor to make thematter certain. It's a cinch you're on the reservation land. You cancopper all your rights, and play to win the bet this claim belongs tome--and everything else that's any good. Now don't stop to talk. Goto Lawrence for Government facts--and git a-going pronto. "

Gettysburg was pulling down his sleeves. Old age had suddenly claimedhim for its own. The song had dried from his heart, and the light ofhis wonderful youth and hope departed from his eye. Dave was toostunned to think. All three felt the weight of conviction sink them inthe chilling mire. The survey of the day before made doubt impossible. 

Gettysburg looked at the boxes, the pits they had dug, the waterrunning over the riffles, behind which lay the gold. 

"I wish Van was to home, " he said. "He'd know. "

Their helplessness without the absent Van was complete. In the game oflife they were just old boys who would never become mature. 

"Van Buren couldn't do no good, " McCoppet assured them. "This ain't amatter of wrangling or fighting; it's a matter of law. If the lawain't with us you'll get the property back. Van Buren would tell youthe same. He didn't know the ground was reservation. We give him thebenefit of that. But all the gold you've got on the place you'll haveto leave with me. You never had no rights on the Government preserves, and I'm here ahead of all the bunch in staking it out at six o'clock, the legal opening hour. "

Napoleon started to speak again, but glanced at Gettysburg instead. Abluff was useless, especially with Gettysburg looking so utterlydefeated. From his tall, old partner, Napoleon looked at Dave. 

"Can't we tack somewhere?" he said. "Couldn't we hold the wheel andwait fer Van?"

Gettysburg repeated: "I wish Van was to home. "

"Come on, come on, " McCoppet urged, beginning to lose his patience. "If you think you've got any rights, go to Lawrence and see. You'retrespassing here. I don't want to tell you harsh to pack your duds andhunt another game, but you can't stay here no longer. "

Gettysburg hesitated, then slowly came out of the water. He looked atthe sluices hazily. 

"Just gittin' her to pay, " he said. "The only easy minin' I ever done. "

Napoleon, suddenly dispirited--utterly dispirited--had nothing more tosay. Slowly and in broken order the three old cronies wended towardsthe cabin. Less than an hour later, with all their meager treasure inworldly goods roped to the last of Dave's horses, they quitted theclaim, taking Algy, the Chinese cook, along. They were homelesswanderers with no place in all the world to turn. Without Van theywere utterly lost. They expected him to come that day to the cove. Therefore, on a desert spot, not far from the new reservation line, taking possession of a bit of hill so poor that no one had staked it, they made their camp in the sand and rocks, to await Van's pleasure inreturning. 

CHAPTER XXXV

THE MEETINGS OF TWO STRONG MEN

Matt Barger, riding in the night, intent upon nothing save the chanceto deal out his vengeance to Van Buren, had camped beside the river, atthe turn where Van and Beth had skirted the bank to the regular fordingbelow. The convict's horse, which Beth had lost, was tethered wherethe water-way had encouraged a meager growth of grass. Barger himselfhad eaten a snake and returned to a narrow defile in the range, wherehis ambush could be made. 

To insure himself against all misadventure he rolled a mass of bouldersdown the hill, to block the trail. His barrier was crude butefficient. Neither man nor horse could have scaled it readily, and theslopes on either side were not only well-nigh perpendicular, they werealso built of crumbling stone that broke beneath the smallest weight. He labored doggedly, persistently, despite his half-starved condition, and when he had finished he looked to his gun, proceeded down the trailsome fifty yards or more, climbed the slope, and there in the rocks, where the walls gave way to a sandy acclivity, concealed himself towait. 

The sun at noon found Van a mark for punishment. The day was thehottest of the season. The earth and rocks irradiated heat that dancedin the air before him. All the world was vibrant, the atmosphere ashimmer, as if in very mockery of the thoughts that similarly rose andgyrated in his brain. His horse was suffering for water. The riverwas still an hour away, so steep was the climb through the range. 

The trail he would gladly have avoided, had such a course beenpractical. He had ridden here with Beth, and therefore the mockery wasall the more intense. His inward heat and the outward heat combined tomake him savage. There was nothing, however, on which to vent hisfeelings. Suvy he loved. Perhaps, he reflected, the horse was his onefaithful friend. Certainly the broncho toiled most willingly acrossthe zone of lifelessness to bear him on his way. 

Up through the narrowing walls of sand and adamant they slowlyascended. Barger saw them once, far down the trail, then lost themagain as they rounded a spur of the shimmering hillside, coming nearerwhere he lay. He was up the slope a considerable distance--fartherthan he meant to risk a shot. His breath came hard as he presentlybeheld Van Buren fairly entering the trap. 

Van's head had fallen forward on his breast. He looked at nothing. His face was set and hard. Barger raised his pistol, sighted down thebarrel--and repressed the impulse to fire as the horseman came onward, unsuspiciously. 

No sooner was Van around the turn, where in less than a minute he wouldfind his progress blocked, than Barger arose and ran with all his mightdown the slope. 

He let out a yell of exultation as he came to the trail. Van turned inhis saddle instantly, beholding the man in the pass. He knew thatsinister form. 

His pony had bounded forward, frightened by the cry. Down went Van'shand to his own revolver, and the gun came up cocked for action. 

One glance he cast up the trail ahead--and saw through Barger's trick. The _cul de sac_ was perfect, and the convict had halted to fire. 

It made a singular picture on Van Buren's retina--that gaunt, savagebeing, hairy, wild of eye, instinct with hatred and malice, posingawkwardly, and the sun-lit barrel of polished steel, just before itsyawning muzzle belched lead and a cloud and a roaring detonation. 

The bullet went wide, and Barger fired again, quickly, but moresteadily. That one landed. It got Van just along the arm, burning ina long, shallow wound that barely brought the blood. 

Van's gun was down, despite Suvy's panic of cavortings. He pulled thetrigger. The hammer leaped two ways, up and back--but the gun made noreport, no buck, no cloud to answer Barger's. The cartridges, subjected to all that water of the day before, were worthless. 

The third of Barger's shots was fired from a closer range, as the eagercreature closed in upon his enemy. It let the daylight enter Van'shat, near the top. 

Van had snapped every shell in his weapon, with amazing rapidity--to noavail. The cylinder had flung around like a wheel, but the sounds werethose of a toy. 

Barger was steadied in his tracks for better marksmanship. He hadheard that succession of metallic snaps; he knew he had Van Buren athis mercy. Three of his shots remained unfired, and a second, unusedpistol in his belt, with more ammunition. The fellow even smiled as hewas aiming. 

There was one thing to do--and Van did it. He leaped his broncho cleanagainst the wall, then spurred him straight for Barger. The shot thatsplit the air again was splattered on the rocks. Before the convictcould make ready to avoid the charge, Suvy was almost upon him. Hepartially fell and partially leaped a little from the broncho's path, but was struck as the pony bounded by. 

He yelled, for his leg was trampled and hurt by the pressure of Suvy'sshoe, nevertheless he scrambled to his feet at once, and fired wildlyat his man. 

He emptied his gun, drew the other, and ran, too eager for his deed ofrevenge to halt and take a steady aim. A bullet punctured thebroncho's ear, and the blood flew back upon Van. 

They were past the walls in the briefest time, and Van attacked theslope. Barger came after, yelling in rage. He tripped, and his hurtleg dropped him down. 

Already wearied, and famished for drink, Suvy nevertheless rose to theneeds of the moment with a strength incredible. He scaled that sandy, treacherous slope like an engine built for the purpose. It was love, pure love for the master on his back, that steeled the mighty sinews inhis body. 

Two shots and two bullets from below proclaimed renewed activitieswhere Barger was once more on his feet. But the man had lost too muchground to recover his advantage. He knew that Van Buren, with a horselike that, could win the high ridge and escape. 

He raged; he cursed himself and his God, for this second failure of hisdeed. Then once again he abruptly thought of a chance whereby toredeem his galling failures. His man on the horse would be more thanan hour in reaching the river by the slopes. A man on foot could beathim there, and beat him across to the farther side, from which toattack with surer aim--from the cover of the willows by the ford. Theflood had subsided. This Barger knew. The water was hardly knee highon a man, and better than all, Van Buren would scarcely dream of such aplan as within the range of possibilities. 

Laboriously, in a fever of impatience, Barger made shift, afterstrenuous work, to climb his barrier of rock. Then up to the summit ofthe trail he sped, and down on the farther side. 

Meantime Van, disgusted with himself for riding away from a fight, could only revile his useless gun and excuse himself a trifle becauseof his defenselessness. The skirmish had served to arouse him, however, and for that he was thankful to the convict who had waited inthe pass. 

Then he wondered how it came at all that Matt should have thus beenlying there in wait. The fellow must have been informed, to prepare soelaborate a trap. It hardly seemed as if a plot against his life couldexplain this trip that Beth had desired him to take. He could scarcelycredit a thing so utterly despicable, so murderous, to her, yet forwhat earthly reasons had she sent him on the trip with a letter thestage could have carried?

The thing was preposterous! No woman on earth could have sanctioned analliance with Barger. But--what of Bostwick--the man who had spent aportion of his time with the liberated convicts? A revenge like thiswould appeal to him, would seem to him singularly appropriate. Bethcould have lent her assistance to the plan without guilty knowledge ofan outcome such as this, and Bostwick--Beth knew that Barger was Van'senemy. He had told her so himself. Facts were facts. Her letter toGlen revealed her state of mind--and here was this attack, a plannedattack, proving conclusively that Barger had been prepared beforehandwith knowledge of the trip. 

From having been depressed before, Van was made thoroughly angry. Thewhole thing was infamous, dastardly--and Beth could not be acquitted. Strangely enough, against the convict, Barger, the horseman felt nowrath. Barger had a grievance, howsoever mistaken, that was adequate. He was following his bent consistently. He had made his threat in theopen; he must plan out his work according to his wits. He was simply ahunted beast, who turned upon his hunters. 

It was Bostwick on whom Van concentrated a rising heat--and he promisedthe man would find things warm in camp, and the fight only well underway. 

Even when the summit was achieved, the broncho slacked off nothing ofhis pace. Sweat glistened wetly upon him. His bleeding ear was goingbackward and forward tremulously, as he listened for any word from Van, and for anything suspicious before them. Van noted a certainwistfulness in the pony's demeanor. 

"Take it easy, boy, " he urged in a voice of affection that the bronchounderstood. "Take it easy. " He dismounted to lead the animal down theslope, since a steep descent is far more trying on a ridden horse thanclimbing up the grade. He halted to pat the pony on the neck, and givehis nose a rough caress, then on they went, the shadow they cast theonly shade upon the burning hill. 

It was fully an hour after leaving the pass, where Barger had piled inthe rock, before the horseman and his broncho dropped again in thetrail that led onward to the river. Van was again in the saddle. Alert for possible surprises, but assured that his man could find noadequate cover hereabouts, he emerged from behind the last of the turnsall eagerness to give his horse a drink. 

A yell broke suddenly, terribly, on the desert stillness. It came fromBarger, out in the river, on the bar--strangely anchored where he stood. 

Van saw him instantly, saw a human fantastic, struggling, writhing, twisting with maniacal might, the while the horrible quicksand held himby the legs, and swallowed him, inch by inch. 

"Fer Christ's sake--help!" the creature shrilled in his plight. He hadflung away revolvers, cartridges, even his coat, reducing his weightwhen the stuff only gripped him by the ankles. He was half to histhighs. He was sinking to his waist, and with all of his furiousefforts, the frightful sand was shuddering, as if in animalecstacy--some abominable ecstacy of hunger, voracious from long denial, as it sucked him further down. 

"Fer Christ's sake, Van Buren--fer Christ's sake, man! I'm a humanbeing, " shrieked the victim of the sand. "_I'm a human being_, man!"

Van had not hesitated by so much as a moment as to what he meant to do. He was off his horse in a leap. He paused for a second to looked aboutfor any accidental means of assistance the place might afford. Itafforded none. The man in the quicksand continued to yell, to strugglehopelessly, to sink in that shivering pool of life-engulfing stuff. 

Then the horseman thought of his rope, the raw-hide lasso, alwayssecured upon his saddle. He snatched at the knots to tear it loose. 

"Don't move--don't struggle!" he shouted at the man, and down towardthe edge he came running, the rope-noose running out as he sped. 

He dared not step beyond the bank, and so involve himself. Barger waswell out from the edge. The throw at best was long and difficult. 

"Hold up your hands, above your head!" he called. "Don't thrasharound!"

The convict obeyed. His haggard, bearded face was turned to Van like amask of horror. The eyes were blazing fearfully. The fellow'sattitude, as he held his hands above his head, and continued to sink, was a terrible pose of supplication--an awful eloquence of prayer. 

Van threw--and the cast fell short. 

Barger groaned. He had ceased to yell. He remained mutely holding uphis hands, while the cold abyss crept upward to his waist--the wet lipsswallowing, swallowing in silence. 

Van jerked in the rope with one impatient gesture. He coiled itswiftly, but with nicety. Then round and round he swung the gapingloop--and threw with all his strength. 

For a second the loop hung snake-like in the air, above the convict'shead. Then it fell about him, splashed the curdled sand, and waspulled up taut, embracing Barger's waist. 

"Hoist it up under your arms!" called Van. "Try to move your legs whenI pull!"

He wasted no time in attempting to haul the convict out himself. Heled his pony quickly to the edge, took two half hitches of the ropeabout the pommel of the saddle, then shouted once more to his man. 

"Ready, Barger. Try to kick your feet. " To the horse he said: "Now, Suvy, a strong, steady pull. " And taking the pony's bit in hand heurged him slowly forward, It was wonderful, the comprehension in the broncho's mind. But thepull was an awful thing. The rope came taut--and began to be strained, and Suvy was sweating as he labored. Out on the end of it, bitten bythe loop, that slipped ever tighter about him, the human figure wasbent over sharply, between the two contending forces. 

He let out one yell, for the pain about his chest--then made no furthersound. The rawhide rope was like a fiddle-string. It seemed absurdthat an anchor so small, so limber, in the sand, could hold so hardagainst the horse. Van urged a greater strain. He knew that the ropewould hold. He did not know how much the man could bear beforesomething awful might occur. There was nothing else to do. 

It seemed a time interminable. No one made a sound. The queer, distorted figure out in the stream could have uttered no sound to savehis life. The silence was beginning to be hideous. 

Then an inch of the rope came landward, as the broncho strained uponit. The anchor had started from its hold. 

"Now! now!" said Van, and with quick, skillful urging he caught at theslight advantage. 

Like an old, half-buried pile, reluctant to budge from its bed in sandand ooze, the human form was slowly dragged from the place. No corpse, rudely snatched from its grave, could have been more helplesslyinert--more stretched out of all living semblance to a man. 

[Illustration: No corpse snatched from its grave could have been morehelplessly inert. ]

Across the firmer sand, and through a lagoon of water, Barger washurriedly drawn. The pony was halted when the man was at the bank, andback to the convict Van went running, to loosen the bite of the noose. 

Barger lay prostrate on the earth, his eyes dully blinking in the sun. His feet were bare. They had slipped from his boots, which were buriedbeyond in the sand. His face had taken on a hue of death. From hairto his ankles he was shockingly emaciated--a gaunt, wasted figure, motionless as clay. 

Van fetched a pint of water in his hat. He sprinkled it roughly in theconvict's face, and, propping up his head, helped him to take a drink. 

Barger could not lift a hand, or utter a word. Van recoiled the rope, secured it on the saddle, then sat down to await the man's recovery. It was slow. Barger's speech was the first returning function. It wasfaint, and weak, and blasphemous. 

"It's hell, " he said, "when God Almighty turns agin a man. Ain't thesheriff's enough--_without a thing like that_?" His thumb made agesture towards the river, which he cursed abominably--cursing it for atrap, a seeming benefit, here in the desert, ready to eat a man alive. 

Van made no reply. He rather felt the man was justified--at least insome opinions. Towards Barger he felt no anger, but rather a pityinstead. 

After a time the convict moved sufficiently to prop himself up againstthe bank. He looked at Van dully. This was the man who had "sent himup"--and saved him from the sand. There was much that lay betweenthem, much that must always lie. He had no issues to dodge. There wasnothing cowardly in Barger, despite his ways. 

"I nearly got you, up yonder, " he said, and he jerked his thumb towardsthe mountains, to indicate the pass where he and Van had met an hourbefore. 

Van nodded. "You sure did. Who told you to look for me here?"

Barger closed his eyes. "Nothing doing. " He could not have beenforced to tell. 

Van smiled. "That's all right. " There was no resentment in the tone. 

Barger looked at him curiously. 

"What for did you pull me out?"

"Don't know, " Van confessed. "Perhaps I hated to have the quicksandcheat the pen. "

"Must have had some good reason, " agreed the prostrate man. He wassilent for a moment, and then he added: "I s'pose I'm your meat. "

As before, Van nodded: "I reckon you are. "

Barger spat. It was his first vigorous indication of returningstrength. 

"Someways, " he said, "I'd rather you'd shoot me here, right now, thansend me back to the pen. But I couldn't stand fer that!" He made hischaracteristic gesture towards the river. As Van made no comment thefellow concluded: "I s'pose you need the reward. "

Van was aware there was ten thousand dollars as a price on theconvict's head, a fact which he someway resented. To-day, more than atany time within his life, he felt out of sympathy with law--with man'slaw, made against man. 

He began to pull off his boots. 

"No, " he said, "I don't want any State's reward, much less expresscompany money. Maybe if it wasn't for those rewards I'd take you intocamp. " He inverted his boots and shook out a few grains of sand. 

Barger glanced at him suspiciously. 

"What are you goin' to do with me, then, now you've got me to rights?"

"Nothing, " said Van, "nothing this afternoon. " He stood up. "You andI break even, Barger, understand? Don't take me wrong. I'm notturning you loose entirely. You belong to me. Whenever I call for thejoker, Matt, I want you to come. "

He would never call, and he knew it. He merely left the matter thus toestablish a species of ownership that Barger must acknowledge. Thereis law of the State, and law of God, and law of man to man. The latterit was that concerned Van Buren now, and upon it he was acting. 

Laboriously, weakly, Barger arose to his feet. He looked at Vanpeculiarly, with a strange light dully firing in his eyes. 

"I agree to that, " he answered slowly. "I agree to that. "

He put out his hand to shake--to bind his agreement. It was almostlike offering his oath. 

Van took it, and gave it his usual grip. 

"So long, Barger, " he said. "I reckon you need these boots. "

He waved his hand loosely at the boots that lay upon the ground, wentat once to his horse, and mounted to his seat. 

"The regular ford of this river's down below, " he added to thespeechless convict, standing there gaunt and wondering upon the marge. "So long. "

Barger said nothing. Van rode away on the trail by the stream, and waspresently gone, around the bend. 

CHAPTER XXXVI

VAN RUNS AMUCK

Instead of turning northward in the mountain range and riding on to the"Laughing Water" claim, Van continued straight ahead to Goldite. Theletter to Beth was heavy in his pocket. Until he should rid himself ofits burden he knew he should have no peace--no freedom to act forhimself. 

He had been delayed. The sun was setting when at last he rode hisbroncho to the hay-yard in the camp, and saw that he was fed withproper care. Then he got some boots and walked to Mrs. Dick's. 

Beth, from her window, looking towards the sun, discovered him comingto the place. She had never in her life felt so wildly joyous atbeholding any being of the earth. She had watched for hours, countinghis steps across the desert's desolation one by one, tracing his coursefrom Starlight "home" by all the signs along the trail which she and hehad traveled together. 

She ran downstairs like a child. She had momentarily forgotten evenGlen. Nothing counted but this sight of Van--his presence here withherself. When she suddenly burst from the door into all the goldenglory of the sunset, herself as glorious with color, warmth, and youthas the great day-orb in the west, Van felt his heart give onetumultuous heave in his breast, despite the resentment he harbored. 

There had never been a moment when her smile had been so radiant, whenthe brown of her eyes had been so softly lighted and glowing, when hercheeks had so mirrored her beauty. 

How superb she was, he said to himself--how splendid was her acting!He could almost forgive himself for having played the fool. Hishelplessness, his defenselessness had been warranted. But--her smilecould befuddle him no more. He took off his hat, with a certain coldelegance of grace. His face still wore that chiseled appearance ofstone-like hardness. 

"Oh!" she cried, in her irrepressible happiness of heart. "You'rehome! You're safe! I'm glad!"

It was nothing, her cry that he was safe. She had worried only for thedesert's customary perils, but this he could not know. He thought shereferred to a possible meeting with Barger. He was almost swept fromhis balance by her look, for a bright bit of moisture had sprung in hereyes and her smile took on a tenderness that all but conquered him anew. 

"I delivered your letter in Starlight, " he said. "I return yourbrother's reply. "

He had taken the letter from his pocket. He held it forth. 

She took it. If memories of Glen started rushingly upon her, they werehalted by something she felt in the air, something in the cold, setspeech of the man she loved as never she had thought to love a creatureof the earth. She made no reply, but stood looking peculiarly uponhim, a question written plainly in her glance. 

"If there is nothing more, " he added, "permit me to wish you good-day. "He swept off his hat as he had before, turned promptly on his heel, anddeparted the scene forthwith. 

She tried to cry out, to ask him what it meant, but the thing had comelike a blow. It had not been what he had said, so much as the mannerof its saying--not so much what she had heard as what her heart hadfelt. A deluge of ice water, suddenly thrown upon her, could scarcelyhave chilled or shocked her more than the coldness that had bristledfrom his being. 

Wholly at a loss to understand, she leaned in sudden weakness againstthe frame of the door, and watched him disappearing. Her smile wasgone. In its place a dumb, white look of pain and bewilderment hadfrozen on her face. Had not that something, akin to anger, which hernature had felt to be emanating from him remained so potently tooppress her, she could almost have thought the thing a joke--somefreakish mood of playfulness after all the other moods he had shown. But no such thought was possible. The glitter in his eyes had beenunmistakable. Then, what could it mean?

She almost cried, as she stood there and saw him vanish. She hadcounted so much upon this moment. She had prayed for his coming safelyback from the desert. She had so utterly unbound the fetters from herlove. Confession of it all had been ready in her heart, her eyes, andon her lips. Reaction smote her a dulling blow. Her whole impulsivenature crept back upon itself, abashed--like something discarded, flungat her feet ingloriously. 

"Oh--Van!" she finally cried, in a weak, hurt utterance, and back alongthe darkening hall she went, her hand with Glen's crushed letterpressed hard upon her breast. 

Van, for his part, far more torn than he could have believed possible, proceeded down the street in such a daze as a drunken man mightexperience, emerging from liquor's false delights to life's cold, merciless facts. The camp was more emptied than he had ever known itsince first it was discovered. Only a handful of the reservationstragglers had returned. The darkness would pour them in by hundreds. 

Half way down the thoroughfare Van paused to remember what it was hisbody wanted. It was food. He started again, and was passing the bankwhen someone called from within. 

"Hello, there--Van!" came the cry. "Hello! Come in!"

Van obeyed mechanically. The cashier, Rickart, it was who had shoutedthe summons--a little, gray-eyed, thin-faced man, with a very longmoustache. 

"How are you, Rick?" said the horseman familiarly. "What's going on?"

"Haven't _you_ heard?--_you_?" interrogated Rickart. "I thought it wasfunny you were loafing along so leisurely. Didn't you know to-day wasthe day for the rush?"

"I did, " said Van. "What about it?"

"Not much, " his friend replied, "except your claim has been jumped byMcCoppet and one J. Searle Bostwick, who got on to the fact that thereservation line included all your ground. "

Van looked his incredulity. 

"What's the joke?" he said. "I bite. What's the answer?"

"Joke?" the cashier echoed. "Joke? They had the line surveyedthrough, yesterday, and Lawrence confirmed their tip. Your claim, Itell you, was on reservation ground, and McCoppet had his crowd on deckat six o'clock this morning. They staked it out, according to law, asthe first men on the job after the Government threw it open--and therethey are. "

Van leaned against the counter carelessly, and looked at his friendunmoved. 

"Who told you the story?" he inquired. "Who brought it into camp?"

"Why a dozen men--all mad to think they never got on, " said Rickart, not without heat. "It's an outrage, Van! You might have fought themoff if you'd been on deck, and made the location yourself! Where haveyou been?"

Van smiled. The neatness of the whole arrangement began to bepresented to his mind. 

"Oh, I was out of the way all right, " he said. "My friends took careof that. "

"I thought there was something in the wind, all along, " imparted thelittle cashier. "Bostwick and McCoppet have been thicker than thievesfor a week. But the money they needed wasn't Bostwick's. I wired toNew York to get his standing--and he's got about as much as a pin. Butthe girl stood in, you bet! She's got enough--and dug up thirtythousand bucks to handle the crowd's expenses. "

Van straightened up slowly. 

"The girl?"

"Miss Kent--engaged to Bostwick--you ought to know, " replied the manbehind the counter. "She's put up the dough and I guess she's in thegame, for she turned it all over like a man. "

Van laughed, suddenly, almost terribly. 

"Oh, hell, Rick, come out and git a drink!" he said. "Here, " as henoted a bottle in the desk, "give me some of that!"

Rickart gave him the bottle and a glass. He poured a stiff amberdraught and raised it on high, a wild, fevered look in his eyes. 

"Here's to the gods of law and order!" he said. "Here's to faith, hope, and charity. Here's to friendship, honor, and loyalty. Here'sto the gallant little minority that love their neighbors as themselves. Give me perfidy or give me death! Hurray for treason, strategy, andspoils!"

He drank the liquid fire at one reckless gulp, and laughing again, inghastly humor, lurched suddenly out at the open door and across to thenearest saloon. 

Rickart, in sudden apprehension for the "boy" he genuinely loved, called out to him shrilly, but in vain. Then he scurried to thetelephone, rang up the office of the sheriff, and presently had adeputy on the wire. 

"Say, friend, " he called, "if Bostwick or McCoppet should return tocamp to-night, warn them to keep off the street. Van Buren's in, and Idon't want the boy to mix himself in trouble. "

"All right, " came the answer, "I'm on. "

In less than an hour the town was "on. " Men returning by the scoresand dozens, nineteen out of every twenty exhausted, angered withdisappointment, and clamorous for refreshments, filled the streets, saloons, and eating houses, all of them talking of the "Laughing Water"claim, and all of them ready to sympathize with Van--especially at hisexpense. 

His night was a mixture of wildness, outflamings of satire on thevirtues, witty defiance of the fates, and recklessness of everythingsave reference to women. Not a word escaped his lips whereby hiskeenest, most delighted listener could have probed to the heart of hismood. To the loss of his claim was attributed all his pyrotechnics, and no one, unless it was Rickart, was aware of the old proverbial"woman in the case, " who had planted the sting that stung. 

Rickart, like a worried animal, following the footsteps of his master, sought vainly all night to head Van off and quiet him down in bed. Attwo in the morning, at McCoppet's gambling hall, where Van perhapsexpected to encounter the jumpers of his claim, the little cashiersucceeded at last in commanding Van's attention. Van had a glass ofstuff in his hand--stuff too strong to be scathed by all the pure foodenactments in the world. 

"Look here, boy, " said Rickart, clutching the horseman's wrist in hishand, "do you know that Gettysburg, and Nap, and Dave are camping onthe desert, waiting for you to come home?"

Van looked at him steadily. He was far from being dizzied in hisbrain. Since the blow received at the hands of Beth had not sufficedto make him utterly witless, then nothing drinkable could overcome hisreason. 

"_Home_?" he said. "Waiting for me to come _home_. "

Suddenly wrenching his hand from Rickart's grip he hurled the glass ofliquor with all his might against the mirror of the bar. The crashrose high above the din of human voices. A radiating star was abruptlycreated in the firmament of glass, and Van was starting for the door. 

The barkeeper scarcely turned his head. He was serving half a dozenmen, and he said: "Gents, what's your poison?"

A crowd of half-intoxicated revelers started for Van and attempted tohaul him back. He flung them off like a lot of pestiferous puppies, and cleared the door. 

He went straight to the hay-yard, saddled his horse, and headed up overthe mountains. He had eaten no dinner; he wanted none. The fresh, clean air began its work of restoration. 

It was daylight when he reached the camp his partners had made on thedesert. Napoleon and Gettysburg were drunk. Discouraged by his longdelay, homeless, and utterly disheartened, they had readily succumbedto the conveniently bottled sympathy of friends. 

No sooner had the horseman alighted at the camp than Napoleon flunghimself upon him. He was weeping. 

"What did I sh-sh-sh-sh-(whistle) shay?" he interrogated brokenly, "home from a foreign--quoth the r-r-r-r-r-(whistle) raven--NEVER MORE!"

Gettysburg waxed apologetic, as he held his glass eye in his hand. 

"Didn't mean to git in thish condition, Van--didn't go to do it, " heimparted confidentially. "Serpent that lurks in the glash. "

Van resumed his paternal rôle with a meed of ready forgiveness. 

"Let him who hath an untainted breath cast the first bottle, " he said. Even old Dave, thought sober, was disqualified, and Algy was asleep. 

CHAPTER XXXVII

THE PRIMITIVE LAW

Bostwick and McCoppet had made ample provision against attack at theclaim. Their miners, who set to work at once to enlarge the facilitiesfor extracting the gold from the ground, were gun-fighters first andtoilers afterward. The place was guarded night and day, visitors beingordered off with a strictness exceptionally rigid. 

Van and his partners were down and out. They had saved almost nothingof the gold extracted from the sand, since the bulk of their treasurehad fallen, by "right of law" into the hands of the jumpers. 

Bostwick avoided Van as he would a plague. There was never a day ornight that fear did not possess him, when he thought of a possibleencounter; yet Van had planned no deed of violence and could not havetold what the results would be should he and Bostwick meet. 

In his customary way of vigor, the horseman had begun a semi-legalinquiry the first day succeeding the rush. He interviewed Lawrence, the Government representative, since Culver's removal from the scene. Lawrence was prepared for the visit. He expressed his regrets at theflight Van's fortunes had taken. Bostwick had come, he said, withauthority from Washington, ordering the new survey. No expectation hadbeen entertained, he was sure, that the old, "somewhat imaginary" and"decidedly vague" reservation line would be disturbed, or that anynotable properties would be involved. Naturally, after the line wasrun, establishing the inclusion of the "Laughing Water" claim, and muchother ground, in the reservation tract, Mr. Bostwick had been justifiedin summary action. It was the law of human kind to reach for allcoveted things. 

Van listened in patience to the exposition of the case. He studied themaps and data as he might have studied the laws of Confucius written intheir native tongue. The thing looked convincing. It was not at allincredible or unique. It bore Government sanction, if not itstrademark. And granting that the reservation tract did actually extendso far as to lap across the "Laughing Water" claim, the right of anentrant to locate the ground and oust all previous trespassers afterthe legal opening was undeniable. 

Much of the natural fighting spirit, welded by nature into Van's being, had been sickened into inactivity by the blow succeeding blow receivedat the hands of Beth Kent. The case against her was complete. 

Her letter to her brother was sufficient in itself. The need for itsdelivery in person to her brother he thought undoubtedly a ruse to gethimself out of the way. If she had not planned with the others to warnthe convict, Barger, of his trip, she had certainly loaned her money toBostwick for his needs--and her letter contained the threat, "I willrepay!"

At the end of three days of dulling disgust and helplessness, Van andhis "family" were camping in a tent above the town of Goldite, on ahill. They were all but penniless: they had no occupation, no hope. They were down once more at the ladder's bottom rung, depleted inspirit, less young than formerly, and with no idea of which way to turn. 

Van meant to fight, if the slightest excuse could be discovered. Hispartners would back him, with their lives. But he and they, as theylooked their prospects fairly in the face, found themselves utterlydisarmed. Except for the credit, extended by friends of Van, starvation might have lurked about their tent. All delayed seeking foroutside work while the prospect of putting up a fight to regain theirproperty held forth a dim glimmer of hope. 

The last of Van's money went to meet a debt--such a debt as he wouldnot disregard. The account was rendered by a cutter of stone, who hadcarved upon a marble post the single legend:

 QUEENIE. 

This post was planted where a small earth mound was raised upon thehill--and word of the tribute went the rounds of the camp, whereeveryone else had forgotten. 

The town's excitement concerning the rush had subsided with greateralacrity as reports came back, in rapid procession--no gold on thereservation. The normal excitements of the mining field resumed wherethe men had left them off. News that Matt Barger was not only still atlarge, but preying on wayside travelers, aroused new demands for thesheriff's demonstrations of his fitness to survive. The fact wasrecalled that Cayuse, the half-breed murderer of Culver, was as yetunreported from the hills. 

The sheriff, who had ridden day and night, in quest of either of the"wanted" men, came back to Goldite from a week's excursion, packed fullof hardships, vigilance, and work, to renew his force and make anotherattempt. He offered a job to Van. 

"There's ten thousand dollars in Barger, " he said. "And I guess youcould use the money. There's nothing but glory in gittin' Cayuse, butI'll give you your pick of the pair. "

That some half-formed notion of procuring a secret survey of thereservation line, in his own behalf, had occupied Van's thoughtssomewhat insistently, was quite to be expected. That the work wouldprove expensive was a matter of course. Money was the one particularthing of which he stood in need. Nevertheless, at the sheriff'ssuggestion he calmly shook his head. 

"Thanks, old man. Blood-money wouldn't circulate worth a whoop in mysystem. But I think I could land Cayuse. " He held no grudge againstCulver now. Perhaps he regretted the fuss he had made on the day ofCulver's death. "I'll take ten dollars a day, " he added, "and see whatI can do about the Indian. "

"I knew it! I knew you'd do more than all the gang--myself in thecount, " the sheriff exclaimed in profound relief. "I'm beat! I ownit! I ain't seen a trace of that black-headed devil since I started. If you'll fetch him in----"

"Don't promise more than ten dollars a day, " Van interrupted. "If youdo you can get him yourself. I haven't said I'll fetch him in. Imerely said perhaps I could get him. "

"All right, " said the sheriff, bewildered. "All right. I don't carewhat happens, if you git him. "

Glad, perhaps, to escape the town--to flee from the air that Beth wasbreathing, Van rode off that afternoon. 

He did not seek the Indian murderer, nor for traces of his place ofconcealment. He went due west, to the nearest Indian camp, on the nowdiminished reservation. He called upon a wise and grave Piute, as oldas some of the hills. 

"Captain Sides, " he said, when the due formalities of greeting had beengratified, "I want you to get Cayuse. He stabbed a white man, Culver, Government man--and you Piutes know all about it. Indians know wherean Indian hides. This man has broken the law. He's got to pay. Iwant your men to get him. "

Old Captain Sides was standing before his house. He was tall anddignified. 

"Yesh--he's broke the law, " he agreed. "Mebbe my boys, they's get him. "

[Illustration: "Yesh--he's broke the law. "]

That was all, but a strange thing happened. On the following nightfour grim Piutes brought Cayuse from his mountain retreat. They wereall his kinsmen, uncles, brothers, and cousins. He was taken to acouncil in the brush, a family council with Captain Sides as Chieftain, Magistrate, and father of the tribe. And a solemn procedure followed. Cayuse was formally charged with infraction of the law and asked forhis defense. He had no defense--nothing but justification. Headmitted the killing, and told of why it had been done. He had takenan eye for an eye. 

"I have broken the white man's law, " he said. "The white man firstbroke mine. I'm ready to pay. The Indian stands no show to get away. I broke the law, and I am glad. They want my life. That's all right. That's the law. But I don't want the white man to hang me. That ain'tgood Indian way. My people can satisfy this law. They can shoot melike a man. No white is going to hang Cayuse, and that's all I've gotto say. "

To an Anglo Saxon mind this attitude is not to be readily comprehended. To the Indian members of Cayuse's clan it addressed itself as wisdom, logic, and right. The council agreed to his demands. The case, historical, but perhaps not unique, has never been widely known. 

As solemnly as doom itself, the council proceeded with its task. Somemanner of balloting was adopted, and immediate members of the Cayusetotem drew lots as to which must perform the lawful deed. It fell to abrother of the prisoner--a half-brother only, to be accurate, since thedoomed man's father had been white. 

Together Cayuse and this kinsman departed from the camp, walking forththrough the darkness in the brush. They chatted in all pleasantness, upon the way. Cayuse could have broken and run. He never for a momentso much as entertained the thought. 

They came to a place appropriate, and, still in all friendliness, backed by a sense of justice and of doom, the guiltless brother shotthe half-breed dead--and the chapter, with the Indians, was concluded. 

Van was gone three days from Goldite camp. He returned and reportedall that had been done. He had seen the executed man. An even thirtydollars he accepted for his time, and with it bought food for hispartners. 

CHAPTER XXXVIII

BETH MAKES DEMANDS

Beth Kent, while the camp was writing its feverish annals, hadundergone emotions in the whole varied order of the gamut. She hadfelt herself utterly deserted and utterly unhappy. She had hopedagainst hope that Van would come, that something might explain away hisbehavior, that she herself might have an opportunity of ascertainingwhat had occurred. 

One clew only was vouchsafed her puzzling mind: Searle had actuallygone to Glen at last, had been there at the hour of Van's arrival, andhad written Glen's letter to herself. Some encounter between the menhad doubtless transpired, she thought, and Van had been poisonedagainst her. What else could it mean, his coldness, his abruptdeparture, after all that had been, and his stubborn silence since?

The letter from Glen had been wholly unsatisfactory. Bostwick hadwritten it, he said, at Glen's dictation. It echoed the phrases thatSearle himself had employed so persistently, many of them grosslymendacious, as Beth was sufficiently aware. Her effort had beenfutile, after all. She was not at all certain as to Glen's condition;she was wholly in the dark in all directions. 

On the day succeeding the reservation rush she received the news atMrs. Dick's, not only that Van had lost his claim, and that McCoppetand Searle were its latest owners, but also that Van had run amuck thatnight after leaving herself. 

Some vague, half-terrifying intuition that Searle was engaged in alawless, retaliatory enterprise crept athwart her mind and rendered herintensely uneasy. Her own considerable sum of money might even beinvolved in--she could not fathom what. Something that lay behind itall must doubtless explain Van's extraordinary change. It wasmaddening; she felt there must be _something_ she could do--there_must_ be something! She was not content to wait in utter helplessnessfor anything more to happen--anything more that served to wreck humanhappiness, if not very life itself!

She felt, moreover, she had a right to know what it was affecting Van. He had come unbidden into her life. He had swept her away with hisriotous love. He had taught her new, almost frightening joys ofexistence. He had drawn upon her very soul--kissing into being anature demanding love for love. He had taken her all for himself, despite her real resistance. She could not cease to love so quickly ashe. She had rights, acquired in surrender--at least the right to knowwhat evil thing had wrought its way upon him. 

But fret as she might, and burn as she might, with impatience, love-created anger and resentment of some infamy, doubtless practicedon them both, there was nothing in the world she could do. 

She wrote again to Glen and had the letter posted in the mail. Sheasked for information. Was he better? Could he come to Goldite soon?Had he met Mr. Van? Had he understood that confession in her letter?Had he really purchased a mine, with Searle, or had he, by some strangemischance, concerned himself with the others in taking the "LaughingWater" claim?

She explained that she was wholly in the dark, that worry was her onlycompanion. She begged him to come, if traveling were possible, andtold of her effort to see him. 

That Bostwick had opened and read her letter to Glen, suppressing thatfinal page, together with sundry questions and references to himself, she could never have dreamed. It is ignorance always that baffles, aswe grope our way in the world. And Beth had not yet entirely lost alltrust in Bostwick himself. 

Searle, in the meantime, having gone straight to the "Laughing Water"claim from Glenmore Kent, had remained three days away from Goldite andhad taken no time to write. When he came at last the girl's suspicionswere thoroughly aroused. That the man was a dangerous trickster, aliar, and perhaps a scoundrel she was rapidly becoming convinced. 

He arrived at the house in the late afternoon while Mrs. Dick and Bethwere engaged together in the dining-room, sewing at a quilt. Themeeting was therefore a quiet one and Beth escaped any lover-likedemonstrations he might otherwise have made. 

Mrs. Dick, in her frank dislike of Bostwick, finally carried her workupstairs. 

"Well, well, sweetheart!" Bostwick exclaimed. "You must have heard thenews, of course. I expect your congratulations!"

He rose and approached her eagerly. She was standing. She moved achair and placed herself behind it. 

"I suppose you mean the claim you've--taken, " she said. "You're elatedover that?"

"Good Lord! aren't you?" he answered. "It's the biggest thing I'veever done! It's worth a million, maybe more--that 'Laughing Water'claim! And to think that Van Buren, the romantic fool, putting marbleslabs on the graves of the _demi-monde_, and riding about like a bigtin toreador, should have bought a property on reservation ground, andlost it, gold and all!"

His relish in the triumph was fairly unctuous. His jaw seemed tooscillate in oil as he mouthed his contempt of the horseman. 

Beth flamed with resentment. Her love for Van increased despite herjudgment, despite her wish, as she heard him thus assailed. She knewhe had placed a stone on Queenie's grave. She admired the fearlessfriendliness of the action--the token whereby he had linked theunfortunate girl in death to the human family from which she hadsevered herself in life. 

Not to be goaded to indiscretion now she sat down as before with herwork. 

"And the money--yours and mine--did it go to assist in this unexpectedenterprise, and not to buy a claim with Glen?"

"Certainly. No--no--not all of it--certainly not, " he stammered, caught for a moment off his guard. "Some of my funds I used, ofcourse, in necessary ways. Don't you worry about your thirty thousand. You'll get it back a hundredfold, from your interest in the claim. "

She glanced up suddenly, startled by what he had said. 

"_My_ interest in the claim?"

"Certainly, your interest. You didn't suppose I'd freeze you out, mylittle woman--my little wife--to be? You are one of the company, ofcourse. You'll be a director later on--and we'll clean up a fortune ina year!"

She was exceedingly pale. What wonder Van had a grievance! He haddoubtless heard it all before he came that night to deliver Glen'sletter from Starlight. He might even have thought she had sent him toGlen to got him away from his claim. 

A thousand thoughts, that seemed to scorch like fire, went rocketingthrough her brain. The thing was too much to be understood at once--itwent too deep--it involved such possibilities. She must try to holdherself in check--try to be clever with this man. 

"Oh, " she said, dropping her eyes to her work, "and Glen is in it too?"

Bostwick was nervous. He sat down. 

"Well, yes--to some extent--a little slice of mine, " he faltered. "Naturally he has less than I've given to you. "

"But--didn't he discover the opportunity--the chance?"

"Certainly not!" he declared vehemently. "It's all mydoing--everything! Wholly my idea from the start!" The impulse toboast, to vaunt his cleverness, was not to be resisted. "I told VanBuren the game had only begun! He thought himself so clever!"

She clung to her point. 

"But--of course you told me Glen had found the chance, requiring sixtythousand dollars. "

"That was a different proposition--nothing to do with this. I'vedropped that game entirely. This is big enough for us all!"

She looked the picture of unsophisticated innocence, sewing at a gaudysquare of cloth. 

"Did this affair also require the expenditure of sixty thousanddollars?"

"No, of course not. Didn't I say so before?"

"How much did it need--if I may ask?"

Bostwick colored. He could not escape. He dared not even hint at thesum he had employed. 

"Oh, just the bare expenses of the survey--nothing much. "

"Then, " she said, "if you don't mind returning my thirty thousanddollars, I think I'll relinquish my share. "

He rose hurriedly. 

"But I--but you--it won't be possible--just yet, " he stammered. "Thisis perfectly absurd! I want you in--want you to retain your interest. There are certain development expenses--and--they can't be handledwithout considerable money. "

"Why not use your own? I much prefer to withdraw. " She said itcalmly, and looked him in the eye. 

He avoided her glance, and paced up and down the room. 

"It can't be done!" he said. "I've pledged my support--our support--toget the claim on its feet. "

She grew calmer and colder. 

"Wasn't the claim already on its feet. I heard it was payingwell--that quite a lot of gold was seized when--when you and the otherstook the place. "

His impatience and uneasiness increased. 

"Oh, it was being worked--in a pickyune, primitive fashion. We'regoing at it right!"

The color came and went in her face. She felt that the man hademployed her money, and could not repay it if he would. She pushed thepoint. 

"Of course, you'll remember I gave you the money to assist my brotherGlen. It was not to help secure or develop this other property. Imuch prefer not to invest my money this way. I shall have to requestits return. "

Bostwick was white. 

"Look here, Beth, is this some maudlin sentiment over that brigand, VanBuren? Is that what you mean?"

She rose once more and confronted him angrily. It was not a mere girl, but a strong and resolute woman he was facing. 

"Mr. Bostwick, " she said, "you haven't yet acquired the right to demandsuch a thing as that of me. For reasons of my own, maudlin orotherwise, I refuse to have my funds employed in the manner you say youmean to use them. I insist upon the immediate return to me of thirtythousand dollars. "

If rage at Van Buren consumed his blood, Bostwick's fear was a greateremotion. Before him he could plainly discern the abject failure of hisplans--the plan to marry this beautiful girl, the plan to go on withMcCoppet and snatch a fortune from the earth. It was not a time fordefiance. He must fence. He must yield as far as possible--till theclaim should make him independent. Of the tirade on his tongue againstVan Buren he dared not utter a word. His own affairs of love wouldserve no better. 

He summoned a smile to his ghastly lips and attempted to assume a calmdemeanor. 

"Very well, " he said. "If that is the way you feel about your money, Iwill pay you back at once. "

"If you please, " she said. "To-day. "

"But--the bank isn't open after three, " he said in a species of panic. "You can't be utterly unreasonable. "

"It was open much later when we were wiring New York some time ago, "she reminded him coldly. "I think you'll find it open to-night tillnine. "

"Well--perhaps I can arrange it, then, " he said in desperation. "I'llget down there now and see what I can do. "

He took his hat and, glad to escape a further inquisition, maderemarkable haste from the house. 

Trembling with excitement, quivering on the verge of half-discoveredthings, flashes of intuition, fragments of deduction, Beth waited anhour for developments. 

Searle did not return. She had felt he would not. She was certain hermoney was gone. 

At dusk a messenger boy arrived with the briefest note, in Bostwick'sfamiliar hand. 

"Sudden, urgent call to the claim. No time for business. Back as soonas possible. With love and faith, yours, SEARLE. "

How she loathed his miserable lie!

CHAPTER XXXIX

ALGY'S COOKING AND BETH'S DESPAIR

Van and the new supply of provender arrived together at the tent wherethe partners made their temporary home. It was nearly dusk, the mellowend of a balmy day. Gettysburg, Napoleon, and Dave were all inside thecanvas, filling the small hollow cube of air with a mighty reek fromtheir pipes, and playing seven-up on a greasy box. The Chinese cookwas away, much to Van's surprise. 

"Gett, " he said, throwing off his belt and revolver, "if Nap was todeal the cards on your tombstone, on the day of Gabriel's trump, I'llbet you'd break the crust and take a hand. What have you done withAlgy?"

"He's went to git a job, " said Gettysburg. "He called us all a lot ofbabies. I doggone near kicked him in the lung. "

Outside, where a wagon had halted with Van's new purchases, the driverhauled out two respectable boxes and dropped them on the earth. 

"What's that?" demanded Napoleon, leaping to his feet. "If it'spirates come to board us again----"

"Don't scare it away, " Van interrupted warningly. "It's grub. "

With one accord the three old cronies started for the door of the tent. Van followed, prepared to get a dinner under way, since his system waswoefully empty. 

To the utter astonishment of all, a visitor was bustling up the hill. It was Mrs. Dick. 

"Where's Van?" she panted, while still a rod away. "Here, Van!" sheexclaimed, the moment she clapped her eyes upon him, "you're just theone I want to see, and I'm an awful busy woman, but I've got to make adeal with you and the sooner it's over the better. So as long asCharlie Sing is cookin' our victuals already I just run up to fight itout, and we might as well begin the program tonight, so all you boyscome down to dinner in just about half an hour. "

The men were all at sea, even Napoleon, who had once sailed anear-briny river. 

"Sit down, " said Van, "and give the grounds a chance to settle. We canalmost see daylight through what you said, but who, for instance, isCharlie Sing?"

"As if you didn't know!" Mrs. Dick responded warmly. "If you think I'mgoin' to call that Chinaman Algy, or anything white, you're way offyour ca-base! Algy! for a Chinaman! Not but what he's a good enoughcook, and I like him as a friend of yours--and him almost makin' me crywith his tryin' to nurse you four old helpless galoots, but I draw theline at fancy names, and don't you forget it!"

The "four old galoots" looked at one another in bewilderment. Van ledMrs. Dick gently but firmly to a box of provisions and pushed her downupon it. 

"Now take a breath, " he said, "and listen. Do we understand you to saythat Algy has gone to your boarding-house and taken a job as cook?"

"He has, " said Mrs. Dick, "but I've named him Charlie. "

"That'll turn his stomick, " ventured Gettysburg gravely. "He was proudof 'Algy. '"

"He certainly must be desperate, " added Van. "I don't quite savvy howit happened. "

"Oh, you don't?" said little Mrs. Dick. "Well, I _do_. He come downthere and says to me, says he, 'We're broke, Van and us, ' he says, 'andI'll go to work and cook for you if you'll board all the family, ' orwords to that effect, says he, 'and give Van twenty dollars a month, salary, ' he says, and I says I'll do it, quicker than scat. And that'sall there is to say, and if Charlie wasn't a Chinaman I'd kiss him inthe bargain!" With a quick, impatient gesture she made a daub at hereye and flecked away a jewel. 

Van hauled at his collar, which was loose enough around his neck. 

"Say, boys, " he said, "think of Algy, being kissed in the bargain. Ialways thought he got his face at a bargain counter. "

"That's all right, Bronson Van Buren!" answered Mrs. Dick indignantly, "but I never come that near to kissin' you!"

Van suddenly swooped down upon her, picked her up bodily, and kissedher on the cheek. Then he placed her again on the box. 

"Why didn't you say what you wanted, earlier?" he said. "Now, don'ttalk back. I want you to harken intently. I'm perfectly willing thatAlgy should waste his sweetness on the desert air of yourboarding-house, if it pleases you and him. I'm willing these oldring-tailed galoots should continue to eat his fascinating poisons, andI certainly hope he'll draw his monthly wage, but I'm going to be toobusy to board in any one place, and Algy's salary would make a load Imust certainly decline to carry. "

Mrs. Dick looked at the horseman in utter disappointment. 

"You won't come? Maybe you mean my house ain't good enough?"

Napoleon was somewhat excited by prospects of again beholding Elsa, ofwhose absence he was wholly unaware. 

"We won't go, neither!" he declared. "Doggone you, Van, you know wewon't go without the skipper, and you're shovin' us right out ofheaven!"

Gettysburg added: "I don't want to say nuthin', but my stomach willsure be the seat of anarchy if it has to git cheated out of goin' downto Mrs. Dick's. "

Van was about to reply to them all. He had paused to frame his answerartfully, eager as he was to foster the comfort of his three oldpartners, but wholly unwilling to accept from either Mrs. Dick orAlgernon the slightest hint of aid. 

"I admit that a man's reach should be above the other fellow's grasp, and all that, " he started, "but here's the point----"

He was interrupted suddenly. A man, running breathlessly up the slopeand waving his hat in frantic gestures, began to shout as he came. 

"Mrs. Dick! Mrs. Dick!" he cried at the top of his voice. "Help!help! You've got to come!"

Mrs. Dick leaped quickly to her feet to face the oncoming man. It wasold Billy Stitts. He had come from Beth. 

"Come on! Come on!" he cried as he neared the group, towards which heceased to run, the better to catch his breath and yell. "There's hella-poppin' in the boarding-house! You've got to come!"

He surged up the last remaining ascent at a lively stride. 

"What's the matter? What in the world are you drivin' at?" demandedMrs. Dick. "Hold your tongue long enough to tell me what's the matter. "

"It's the _chink_!" exploded Billy pantingly. "They tried to run himoff the place! He's locked the kitchen and gone to throwin' out hotwater and Chinese language like a fire-engine on a drunk. And nowthey're all a-packin' up to quit the house, and you won't have adoggone boarder left, fer they won't eat Chinese chuck!"

"What?" said Van drawlingly, "refuse to eat Algy's confections?--acrowd like that? By all the culinary gods of Worcestershire andmustard, they'll eat out of Algy's hand. "

He dived inside the tent, caught up his gun, and was strapping it onbefore Mrs. Dick could catch her breath to utter a word of her wrath. 

"Well, " said Gettysburg dubiously, "I hate trouble on an empty stomach, but----"

"You stay in camp till you hear the dinner bell, " Van interrupted. "This game is mine and Mrs. Dick's. You'll get there in time fordessert. "

He did not wait for Mrs. Dick. He started at a pace that none couldfollow. Mrs. Dick began to run at his heels, calling instructions asshe went. 

"Be careful of the crock'ry, Van! The stove's bran'-new! I'd hate tohave you break the chairs! And don't forgit Miss Kent!"

Old Billy Stitts had remained with the others at the camp. 

"Ain't she the female woman?" he said. "Ain't she just about it?"

No one answered. The three old cronies were watching Van as he went. 

Van, for his part, heard nothing of what Mrs. Dick was saying, exceptthe name "Miss Kent. " He had not forgotten for a moment that Beth wasat the seat of war, or that he would perhaps be wiser by far never tobehold her again. He was speeding there despite all he felt at whatshe had done, for she might be involved in trouble at the house, and--at least she was a woman. 

He arrived in the midst of a newly concerted plan on the part oflodgers and strangers combined to smoke Algy out of the kitchen. Theyhad broken windows, overturned the furniture, and worked up a livelyhumor. Algy had exhausted his supply of hot water, but not his supplyof language. It seemed as if the stream of Oriental invective beingpoured through the walls of the building might have withered almostanything extant. But Goldite whisky had failed on his besiegersearlier and their vitals were proof against attack. 

Van arrived among them abruptly. 

"What's all this pillow-fight about?" he demanded in a voice that allcould hear. "Which one of you fellows is it that's forgotten he's aman? Who's looking for trouble with my Chinese cook and Mrs. Dick?"

He boded no good to any man sufficiently hardy to argue the matter to afinish. The attackers lost heart as they faced about and found himthere ready for action. From a half-open window above the scene Bethwas watching all that was done. 

A spokesman for the lodgers found his voice. 

"Well, we ain't a-goin' to stay in no doggone house with a chink shovedin fer a cook. "

Van nodded: "Have you ever tried Algy's cooking?"

"No, we ain't! And we ain't a-goin' to, neither!"

The others murmured their assent. 

"You're a fine discriminating cluster of bifurcated, viviparousidiots, " said Van in visibly disturbing scorn. "You fellows would haveto be grabbed by the scruff of the neck and kicked into Eden, I reckon, even if the snake was killed and flung over the fence, and the fruitoffered up on silver platters. The man who hasn't eaten one of Algy'sdinners isn't fit to live. The man who refuses to eat one better beginright now on his prayers. " He took out his gun and waved it looselyabout, adding: "Which one of you remembers 'Now I lay me down tosleep'?"

There was no response. The ten or twelve disturbers of the peace werestirring uneasily in their tracks. 

Van gave them a chance. 

"All who prefer to recite, 'Now I sit me up to eat, ' please raise theirhands. Raise 'em up, raise 'em up!" he commanded with the gun. "Putup both hands, while you're at it. "

Up went all the hands. Mrs. Dick arrived, and stood looking on andpanting in excitement. 

"Thanks for this unanimous vote, " Van resumed. "I want to inform youboarders in particular that if ever I hear of one of you missing a mealof Algy's cooking, or playing hookey from this lodging-house, as longas Mrs. Dick desires your inglorious company, I'll hand you forthwithover to the pound-keeper with instructions not to waste his chloroform, but to drown the whole litter in a bag. "

"Oh, well!" said the spokesman, "I'd just as soon eat the chink'scookin', if it's good. "

"Me, too, " said a follower, meek as a lamb. A number echoed "Me, too. "One added: "We was just having a little bit of fun. "

"Well, " said Van judicially, "Algy's entitled to his share. " He raisedhis voice: "Hey there, Algy--come out here and play with the boys. "

Mrs. Dick had caught sufficient breath to explode. 

"Fun!" she said. "My windows broken! My house all upset. Snakesalive, if ever I heard----"

Algy appeared and interrupted. 

"What's mallah you, Van?" he said. "I got no time fool lound now. Been play too much. All time play, that velly superstich! Nobody gottime to work. "

"That's all right, " Van assured him. "The boys here wish to apologizefor wasting your valuable time. In fact, they insist. Now then, boys, down on your knees, every Jack in the crowd. "

That gun of his had a horribly loose way of waving about to cover allthe men. They slumped to, rather than knelt on, their knees. 

"Suminagot!" said Algy. "All time too muchee monkey fooling! Mydinner not git leady, Van, you savvy that? What's mallah you?"

Van ignored the cook, in addressing the men. 

"It's your earnest desire to apologize, boys, I believe, " he said. "All in favor will please say Aye. "

The men said Aye in growlings, rumblings, and pipings. 

Van addressed his cook. "Do you want them to kiss your hand?"

"_Ah_! Unema! hong oy!" said Algy blasphemously. "You makee me vellysick! Just wash my hands for finish my dinner. Too muchmonkey-doodle!" and off he went to his work, followed at once by Mrs. Dick. 

"Algy's too modest, " Van assured the crowd. "And none of you chaps arefit to apologize to Mrs. Dick, so you'd better go wash up for dinner. But don't let me hear so much as a peep about Algy from one of thisbunch, or Eden will turn into Hades. " As the men arose to their feetsheepishly, and began to slink away he added to the spokesman, "Youthere with the face for pie, go up to my camp and call the boys tofeed. "

The men disappeared. Van, left alone, was turning away when his glancewas attracted to the window, up above, where Beth was looking down. His face turned red to the topmost rim of his ears. 

The girl was pale, but resolute. 

"May I see you a moment, please?" she said, "before the men come in?"

"Certainly. " Van went to the front and waited at the foot of thestairs. 

When Beth came down he was standing in the doorway, looking off at theshadowy hills. He heard her steps upon the stairs and turned, removinghis hat. 

For a moment Beth faced him silently, her color coming and going inrapid alternations. She had never seemed more beautiful than now, inher mood of worry and courage. 

"Thank you for waiting, " she said to him faintly, her heart beatingwildly in her bosom, "I felt as if I had the right--felt it onlyright--won't you please tell me what I have done?"

It was not an easy matter for Van to hold his own, to check an impulseutterly incontinent, utterly weak, that urged him fairly to the edge ofsurrender. But his nature was one of intensity, and inasmuch as he hadloved intensely, he distrusted now with equal force. 

"What you have done?" he repeated. "I'm sure I can't tell you ofanything that you do not know yourself. What do you wish me to say?"

"I don't know! I don't know, " she told him honestly. "I thought if Iasked you--asked you like this--you'd tell me what is the matter. "

"There's nothing the matter. "

"But there is!" she said. "Why not be frank? I know that you're introuble. Perhaps you blame----"

"I told you once that taking trouble and having trouble supply all thefun I have, " he interrupted. "The man without trouble became extinctbefore he was born. "

"Oh, please don't jest, " she begged him earnestly. "You and I werefriends--I'm sure we were friends--but now----"

"Now, if we are not, do you think the fault is mine?"

He, too, was white, for the struggle was great in his soul. 

"It isn't mine!" she said. "I want to say that! I had to say that. Istopped you--just to say that. " She blushed to say so much, but shemet his stern gaze fearlessly with courage in her eyes. 

He could not understand her in the least, unless she still had more todo, and thought to hold his friendship, perhaps for Searle'sprotection. He forced himself to probe in that direction. 

"And you'd wish to go on being friends?"

It was a hard question--hard to ask and hard to answer. She coloredanew, but she did not flinch. Her love was too vast, too strong andelemental to shrink at a crucial moment. 

"I valued your friendship--very much, " she confessed steadily. "Whyshouldn't I wish it to continue?"

It was aggravating to have her seem so honest, so splendid, so womanlyand fine, when he thought of that line in her letter. He could notspare himself or her in the agitation of his nature. 

"Your way and mine are different, " he said. "My arts in deceit wereneglected, I'm afraid. "

Her eyes blazed more widely than before. Her color went like sunsettints from the sky, leaving her face an ashen hue of chill. 

"Deceit?" she repeated. "You mean that I--I have deceived you? Whatdo you mean?"

He could bear no more of her apparent innocence. It was breaking hisresolution down. 

"Oh, we may as well be candid!" he exclaimed. "What's the use ofbeating round the bush? I saw your letter--read your letter--bymistake. "

"My letter?"

"Your letter to your brother. Through some mistake I was given thefinal page--a fragment merely--instead of your brother's reply to bebrought to you. I was asked to read it--which I did. Is that enough?"

"My letter to---- The last----" At a sudden memory of that letter'slast page, with her heart's confession upon it, she burned a blindingcrimson. "You read----" she stammered, "--and now----" She could notlook him in the face. She leaned against the stair in sudden weakness. 

"After that, " he said, "does my conduct occasion surprise?"

What he meant, in the light of the letter as she had written it toGlen, as she thought he must have read it, was beyond hercomprehension. She had fondly believed he loved her. He had told herso in actions, words, and kisses. What terrible secret, deep hidden inhis breast, could possibly lie behind this thing was more than mindcould fathom. Or did he scorn and loathe her now for having succumbedto his love? He had read her confession that she loved him more thananything else in all the world. He knew the last faint word in herheart--and flung her away like this!

She cast one frightened, inquiring look at his face. It was set andhard as stone. The light in his eyes was cold, an accusing glitter. She felt herself utterly abashed, utterly shamed. Her heart had lainnaked before him, throbbing with its secret. His foot was upon it. There was nothing to cover its nakedness--nothing to cover herconfusion. 

For a moment she stood there, attempting to shrink within herself. Herattitude of pain and shame appeared to him as guilt. He felt the wholething poignantly--felt sorry to send his shaft so truly home, sorry tosee the effect of the blow. But, what was the use? His was the way ofplain, straightforward dealing. Better one swift wound, even untodeath, than a lingering torture for years. 

He opened his lips as if to speak. But there was nothing more to say. He turned towards the door. 

Beth could not suppress one little cry. 

"Oh!" It was half a moan, half a shuddering gasp. 

With her last rally of strength she faced the stairway, and weaklystumbled up the steps. 

A spasm of agony seized Van by the cords of his heart. He went blindlyaway, with a vision in his eyes of Beth groping weakly up the stairs--adoe with a mortal hurt. 

CHAPTER XL

GLEN AND REVELATIONS

How she spent that night Beth never could have told. Her mind hadrefused to work. Only her heart was sensible of life and emotions, forthere lay her wound, burning fiercely all the long hours through. ThatVan had made excuses to his partners and disappeared on "business" wasa matter of which she received no account. 

In the morning the unexpected happened. Her brother Glen arrived inGoldite, having driven from Starlight with a friend. He appeared atMrs. Dick's while Beth was still in her room, indisposed. She hadeaten no dinner. She took no breakfast. But with Glenmore's adventshe was suddenly awakened to a new excitement, almost a new sort ofhope. 

Young Kent was a smooth-faced, boyish chap, slightly stooped, exceedingly neat, black-haired, and of medium height. He was like Bethonly in a "family" manner. His nose was a trifle large for his face, but something in his modest, good-natured way, coupled to his earnestdelivery of slang in all his conversation, lent him a certain charmthat no one long resisted. 

He was standing in his characteristic pose, with one hand buried in hispocket, as he laughingly explained himself to Mrs. Dick, when Beth camerunning down the stairs. 

"Glen!" she cried, as she ran along the hall, and casting herself mostfervently upon him, with her arms about his neck, she had a good, sky-clearing cry, furious and brief, and looked like a rain-wet rosewhen she pushed him away and scrutinized him quickly through her tears. 

"I say, Sis, why this misplaced fountain on the job?" he said. "Do Ilook as bad as that?"

"Oh, Glen, " she said, "you've been ill! You were hurt! I've worriedso. You're well? You've entirely recovered? Oh, I'm so glad to seeyou. Glen! There's so much I've got to say!"

"Land snakes!" said Mrs. Dick. "If I don't hurry----" and off she went. 

"You're the phonograph for mine, " said Glen. "What's the matter withyour eyes? Searle hasn't got you going on the lachrymals already?"

"No, I--I'm all right, " she said excitedly. "I didn't sleep well, that's all. Do sit down. I've so many things to say, so much to ask, I don't know where to begin. It was such a surprise, your coming likethis! And you're looking so well. You got my letter, of course?"

Glen sat down, and Beth sat near, her hand upon his arm. They had beenmore like companions than mere half-brother and sister, all theirlives. The bond of affection between them was exceptionally developed. 

"I came up on account of your letter, " he said. "Either my perceptivefaculties are on the blink or there's something decaying in Denmark. It's you for the Goddess of Liberty enlightening the unenlightenedsavage. I'm from Missouri and I want you to start the ticker on thehum. "

"You know what Searle has done?" she said. "How much do you know ofwhat has happened?"

"Nothing. I've been retired on half knowledge for a month, " said Glen. "I haven't been treated right. I'm here to register a roar. Nobodytells me you're in the State till I read that account in the paper. Idope it out to Searle that I am bumping the bumps, and there is nothingdoing. He shows up at last and hands me a species of coma and leavesme with twenty-five dollars! That's what I get. What I've been doingis a longer story. I apologize for not having seen your friend whobrought the letter, but it's up to you to apologize for a bum epistleto the Prodigal. "

"Wait a minute, Glen--wait a minute, please; don't go so fast, " shesaid, gripping tighter to his arm. "I must get this all as straightand plain as possible. You don't mean to say that Searle reallydrugged you, or something like that--what for?"

"I want to know, " said Glen. "What's the answer? Perhaps he preferredI should not behold your Sir Cowboy Gallahad. "

"There is something going on, " she said, "something dark and horrible. How did you happen to show Mr. Van Buren--let him see the last page ofmy letter?"

"I didn't let him see anything, " said Glen. "I was dopy, I tell you. I didn't even see the letter myself. Searle sat on the bed and read italoud--and lit his cigar with part of it later. "

"My letter?" she said, rising abruptly, and immediately sitting downagain. "You never saw---- Searle got it--read it! Oh, theshamelessness! Then--it must have been Searle who made themistake--let Mr. Van Buren see it--see what I wrote--see---- What didhe read you--read about Van--Mr. Van Buren--almost the last thing inthe letter?"

Glen was surprised at her agitation. He glanced at her blankly. 

"Nothing, " he said. "He read me nothing--as I remember--about yourfriend. Was it something in particular?"

She arose again abruptly and wrung her hands in a gesture of baffledimpatience. 

"Oh, I don't know what it all means!" she said. "To think of Searlebeing there, and intercepting my letter!--daring to read it!--burningit up!--reading you only a portion! Of course, he didn't read you mysuspicions concerning himself?"

"Not on your half-tone, " Glen assured her. "What's all this business, anyway? Put me wise, Sis, I'm groping like a blind snail in themulligatawny. "

Beth sat down as before and leaned her chin in her palm in an attitudeof concentration. 

"Don't you know what Searle has done--taking the 'Laughing Water'claim?--Mr. Van Buren's claim?"

"I don't know anything!" he told her convincingly. "I'm a howlingwilderness of ignorance. I want to know. "

"Let's start at the very beginning, " she said. "Just as soon as Searlebrought your letter--the first one, I mean--in which you asked forsixty thousand dollars to buy a mine----"

"Whoap! Jamb on the emergency!" Glen interrupted. "I never wrote sucha letter in my life!"

She looked at him blankly. 

"But--Glen--I saw your letter. I read it myself--at this very table. "

Glen knitted his brows and became more serious. 

"A letter from me?--touching Searle for sixty thou? Somebody's nutty. "

"But Glen--what I saw with my own eyes----"

"Can't help it. Nothing doing!" he interrupted as before. "If Searleshowed you any such letter as that he wrote it him--hold on, I wrotehim for a grub-stake, fifty dollars at the most, but I haven't evenseen a mine that any man would buy, that the other man would sell, andSearle sure got my first before I was bug-house from that wollop on theblock. " He put his hand to the sore spot on his head and rubbed itsoothingly. 

Beth was pale. She failed to observe his gesture, so absorbed were allher faculties in the maze of facts in which she was somewhat helplesslystruggling. 

"Could Searle have written such a letter as that?" she said. "Whatfor?"

"For money--if he wrote it, " said Glen. "Did he touch you for a loan?"

Beth's eyes were widely blazing. Her lips were white and stiff. 

"Why, Glen, I advanced thirty thousand dollars--I thought to help youbuy a mine. Searle was to put in a like amount--but recently----"

"Searle! Thirty thousand bucks!" said Glen. "He hasn't got thirtythousand cents! The man who drove me up last night knows the bankcashier, Mr. Rickart, like a brother--and Rickart told him Searle is afour-flusher--hasn't a bean--and looks like a mighty good imitation ofa crook. Searle! You put up thirty--stung, Beth, stung, good andplenty!"

Beth's hand was on her cheek, pressing it to whiteness. 

"Oh, I've been afraid that something was wrong--that somethingterrible---- Why, Glen, that would be _forgery_--obtaining money underfalse pretences! He may have done anything--_anything_ to get the'Laughing Water' claim! He may have done something--saidsomething--written something to make Van--Mr. Van Buren think thatI---- Oh, Glen, I don't know what to do!"

Her brother looked at her keenly. 

"You're in trouble, Sis, " he hazarded. "Is 'Van' the candy boy withyou?"

She blushed suddenly. The contrast from her paleness was striking. 

"He's the one who is in trouble, " she answered. "And he may think thatI--he does think something. He has lost his mine--a very valuableproperty. Searle and some Mr. McCoppet have taken it away from Mr. VanBuren and all those poor old men--after all their work, theirwaiting--everything! You've got to help me to see what we can do!"

"McCoppet's a gambler--a short-card, tumble weed, " said Glen. "You'vegot to put me next. Tell me the whole novelette, beginning at chapterone. "

"As fast as I can, " she answered, and she did. She related everything, even the manner in which she and Searle had first become engaged--abusiness at which she marveled now--and of how and when she hadencountered Van, the results of the meeting, the subsequent events, andthe heart-breaking outcome of the trip that Van had made to carry herletter to Starlight. 

In her letter, her love had been confessed. She glossed that item overnow as a spot too sensitive for exposure. She merely admitted thatbetween herself and Van had existed a friendship such as comes but oncein many a woman's life--a friendship recently destroyed, she feared, bysome horrible machinations of Bostwick. 

"You can see, " she concluded, "that Mr. Van Buren must think me guiltyof almost anything. He doubtless knows my money, that I thought washelping you, went to meet the expense of taking away his property. Heprobably thinks I sent him to you to get him out of the way, whileSearle and the others were driving his partners off the claim. 

"My money is gone. I asked for its return and I'm sure Searle cannotrepay me. I'm told he couldn't have used so much as thirty thousanddollars in anything legitimate, so far, on the 'Laughing Water' claim. If he'd forge a letter from you, and lie like this and deceive me so, what wouldn't he do to rob these men of their mine?"

"I scent decay, " said Glenmore gravely. "Have you got any plans inyour attic?"

"Why, I don't know what to do, of course!" she admitted. "But I've gotto do something. I've got to show Mr. Van Buren I'm not a willfulparty to these horrible things. I don't believe I'll ever get my moneyback. I don't want a share of a stolen mine. I'd be glad to let themoney go, and more--all I've got in the world--if only I could prove toVan that I haven't deceived him, haven't taken part in anythingwrong--if only I could make these cheats give the 'Laughing Water'back!"

"Van _is_ the candy. I'll have to meet him, sure, " said Glen withconviction, looking on her face. "I wish you were wise to more of thisgame--the way they worked it--how they doped it out. I'll look aroundand find out how the trick was done, and then we'll go to it together. Guess I'll look for Van right off the bat. "

She glanced at him with startled eyes. 

"No, Glen--please don't. I'd rather you wouldn't--just yet. You don'tunderstand. I can't let him think I'm--making overtures. He mustthink I have a _little_ pride. If his mine has been stolen I want togive it back--before he ever sees me again. If you knew how much--oh, how very much, I wish to do that----"

"I'm on, " he interrupted. "It will do me good to put a crimp inSearle. "

CHAPTER XLI

SUVY PROVES HIS LOVE

If a single ray of far-off hope had lingered in Van's meditationsconcerning Beth, and the various occurrences involving himself and hismining property, it vanished when he told her of the letter he had seenand beheld her apparent look of guilt. 

One thing the interview had done: it had cleared his decks for action. He had lain half stunned, as it were, till now, while Bostwick held the"Laughing Water" claim and worked it for its gold. A look that wasgrim and a heat that would brook no resistance had come together uponhim. 

That claim was his, by right of purchase, by right of discovery as toits worth! He had earned it by hardships, privations, suffering! Hemeant to have it back! If the law could avail him, well and good! Ifnot, he'd make a law!

McCoppet he knew for a thief--a "law-abiding" criminal of the subtlesttype. Bostwick, he was certain, was a crook. Behind these two laypossibilities of crime in all its forms. That suddenly ordered surveyof the line was decidedly suspicious. Bostwick and his fiancée hadcome prepared for some such coup--and money was a worker of miraclessuch as no man might obstruct. 

Van became so loaded full of fight that had anyone scratched a matchupon him he might have exploded on the spot. He thought of thesimplest thing to do--hire a private survey of the reservation line, either to confirm or disprove the work that Lawrence had done, and thenmap out his course. The line, however, was long, surveyors were fairlyswamped with work, not a foot could be traveled without some ready cash. 

He went to Rickart of the bank. Rickart listened to his plan ofcampaign and shook his head. 

"Don't waste your money, Van, " he said. "The Government wouldn'taccept the word of any man you could hire. Lawrence would have to bediscredited. Nobody doubts his ability or his squareness. Thereservation boundary was wholly a matter of guess. You'll find itincludes that ground--and the law will be against you. I'd gladly lendyou the money if I could, but the bank people wouldn't stand behind me. And every bean I've got of my own I've put in the Siwash lease. "

Van was in no mood for begging. 

"All right, Rick, " he said. "But I'll have that line overhauled if Ihave to hold up a private surveyor and put him over the course at thefront of a gun. " He went out upon the street, more hot than before. 

In two days time he was offered twenty dollars--a sum he smilinglyrefused. He was down and out, in debt all over the camp. He could noteven negotiate a loan. From some of his "friends" he would not haveaccepted money to preserve his soul. 

Meantime, spurred to the enterprise by little Mrs. Dick, oldGettysburg, Napoleon, and Dave accepted work underground and began tocount on their savings for the fight. 

At the "Laughing Water" claim, during this period, tremendous elationexisted. Not only had three lines of sluices been installed, withthree shifts of men to shovel night and day, but a streak of gravel ofsensational worth had been encountered in the cove. The clean-up atsunset every day was netting no less than a thousand dollars in goldfor each twenty-four hours at work. 

This news, when it "leaked, " begot another rush, and men by thehundreds swarmed again upon the hills, in all that neighborhood, panning the gravel for their lives. Wild-catting started with animpetus that shook the State itself. And Van could only grit his teethand continue, apparently, to smile. 

All this and more came duly to the ears of Glenmore Kent and Beth. Thegirl was in despair as the days went by and nothing had beenaccomplished. The meager fact that Lawrence had run and corrected thereservation line, at Searle's behest, was all that Glen had learned. 

But of all the men in Goldite he was doubtless best equipped withknowledge concerning Bostwick's Eastern standing. He knew that Searlehad never had the slightest Government authority to order the surveymade--and therein lay the crux of all the matter. It was all he had togo upon, but he felt it was almost enough. 

The wires to New York were tapped again, and Beth was presently a localbank depositor with a credit of twenty thousand dollars. In a quiet, effective manner, Glen then went to work to secure a surveyor on hisown account, or rather at Beth's suggestion. 

With the fact of young Kent's advent in the town Van was early madeacquainted. When Beth procured the transfer of her money from New Yorkto Goldite, Rickart promptly reported the news. It appeared to Van aconfirmation of all his previous suspicions. He could not fight awoman, and Bostwick and McCoppet remained upon the claim. Searle wrotenearly every day to Beth, excusing his absence, relating his success, and declaring the increase of his love. 

On a Wednesday morning Glenmore's man arrived by stage from Starlight, instruments and all. His name was Pratt. He was a tall, slow-moving, blue-eyed man, nearly sixty years of age, but able still to carry athirty-pound transit over the steepest mountain ever built. Glen methim by appointment at the transportation office and escorted him atonce to Mrs. Dick's. 

Already informed as to what would be required, the surveyor wasprovided with all the data possible concerning the reservation limits. 

Beth was tremendously excited. "I'm glad you've come, " she told himcandidly. "Can you start the work to-day?"

"You will want to keep this quiet, " he said. "I need two men we cantrust, and then I'm ready to start. "

"Two?" said Glen. "That's awkward. I thought perhaps you could getalong with little me. "

Beth, in her tumult of emotions, was changing color with bewilderingrapidity. 

"Why--I expected to go along, of course, " she said. "I've got asuit--I've done it before--I mean, I expect to dress as you are, Glen, and help to run the line. "

Pratt grinned good-naturedly. "Keeps it all in the family. That's oneadvantage. "

"All right, " said Glen. "Hike upstairs and don your splendors. "

He had hired a car and stocked it with provisions, tents, and bedding. He hastened off and returned with the chauffeur to the door. 

Beth, in the costume she had worn on the day when Van found her lost inthe desert, made a shy, frightened youth, when at length she appeared, but her courage was superb. 

At ten o'clock they left the town, and rolled far out to the westwardon their course. 

Van learned of their departure. He was certain that Beth had gone tothe "Laughing Water" claim, perhaps to be married to Bostwick. Threetimes he went to the hay-yard that day, intent upon saddling hisbroncho, riding to the claim himself, and fighting out his rights bythe methods of primitive man. 

On the third of his visits he met a stranger who offered to purchaseSuvy on the spot at a price of two hundred dollars. 

"Don't offer me a million or I might be tempted, " Van told him gravely. "I'll sell you my soul for a hundred. "

The would-be purchaser was dry. 

"I want a soul I can ride. "

Van looked him over critically. 

"Think you could ride my cayuse?"

"This broach?" said the man. "Surest thing you know. "

"I need the money, " Van admitted. "I'll bet you the pony against yourtwo hundred you can't. "

"You're on. "

Van called to his friend, the man who ran the yard. 

"Come over here, Charlie, and hold the stakes. Here's a man who wantsto ride my horse. "

Charlie came, heard the plan of the wager, accepted the money, andwatched Van throw on the saddle. 

"I didn't know you wanted to sell, " he said. "You know I want thatanimal. "

"If he goes he sells himself, " said Van. "If he doesn't, you're next, same terms. "

"Let me have that pair of spurs, " said the stranger, denoting a pairthat hung upon a nail. "I guess they'll fit. "

He adjusted the spurs as one accustomed to their use. Van merelyglanced around. Nevertheless, he felt a sinking of the heart. Fivehundred dollars, much as he needed money, would not have purchased hishorse. And inasmuch as luck had been against him, he suddenly fearedhe might be on the point of losing Suvy now for a price he would havescorned. 

"Boy, " he said in a murmur to the broncho, "if I thought you'd let anybleached-out anthropoid like that remain on deck, I wouldn't want youanyway--savvy that?"

Suvy's ears were playing back and forth in excessive nervousness andquestioning. He had turned his head to look at Van with evident joy atthe thought of bearing him away to the hills--they two afar offtogether. Then came a disappointment. 

"There you are, " said Van, and swinging the bridle reins towards thewaiting man, he walked to a feed-trough and leaned against itcarelessly. 

"Thanks, " said the stranger. He threw away a cigarette, caught up thereins, adjusted them over Suvy's neck, rocked the saddle to test itsfirmness, and mounted with a certain dexterity that lessened Van'sconfidence again. After all, Suvy was thoroughly broken. He hadquietly submitted to be ridden by Beth. His war-like spirit might begone--and all would be lost. 

Indeed, it appeared that Suvy was indifferent--that a cow would haveshown a manner no less docile or resigned. He did look at Van with acertain expression of surprise and hurt, or so, at least, the horsemanhoped. Then the man on his back shook up the reins, gave a prick withthe spurs, and Suvy moved perhaps a yard. 

The rider pricked again, impatiently. Instantly Suvy's old-timefulminate was jarred into violent response. He went up in the airprodigiously, a rigid, distorted thing of hardened muscles andengine-like activities. He came down like a new device for breakingrocks--and the bucking he had always loved was on, in a fury ofresentment. 

"Good boy!" said Van, who stood up stiffly, craning and bending towatch the broncho's fight. 

But the man in the saddle was a rider. He sat in the loose security ofmen who knew the game. He gave himself over to becoming part of thebroncho's very self. He accepted Suvy's momentum, spine-disturbingjolts, and sudden gyrations with the calmness and art of a master. 

All this Van beheld, as the pony bucked with warming enthusiasm, andagain his heart descended to the depths. It was not the bucking he hadhoped to see. It was not the best that lay in Suvy's thongs. Thebeating he himself had given the animal, on the day when theirfriendship was cemented, had doubtless reduced the pony's confidence ofwinning such a struggle, while increasing his awe of man. Some minerspassing saw the dust as the conflict waged in the yard. They hastenedin to witness the show. Then from everywhere in town they appeared topour upon the scene. The word went around that the thing was abet--and more came running to the scene. 

Meantime, Suvy was rocketing madly all over the place. Chasing acouple of cows that roamed at large, charging at a monster pile ofhousehold furnishings, barely avoiding the feed-trough, set in thecenter of the place, scattering men in all directions, and raising adust like a concentrated storm, the broncho waxed more and more hot inthe blood, more desperately wild to fling his rider headlong throughthe air. But still that rider clung. 

Van had lost all sense save that of worry, love for his horse, anddesire to see him win this vital struggle. A wild passion for Suvy'sresponse to himself--for a proving love in the broncho'sbeing--possessed his nature. He leaned far forward, awkwardly, following Suvy about. 

"I'm ashamed of you, Suvy!" he began to cry. "Suvy! Suvy, where'syour pride? Why don't you do him, boy? Why don't you show them?Where's your pride? My boy! my boy!--don't you love me any more?You're a baby, Suvy! You're a baby!" He paused for a moment, following still and watching narrowly. "Suvy! Suvy! You're gone ifyou let him ride you, lad! If you love me, boy, don't break my heartwith shame!"

Suvy and a hundred men heard his wild, impassioned appeal. The menresponded as if in some pain of the heart they could not escape, thusto see Van Buren so completely wrapped up in his horse. Then some allbut groaned to behold the bucking cease. 

It seemed as if Suvy had quit. The man in the saddle eased. 

"Boy!" yelled Van, in a shrill, startling cry that made the ponyshiver. He had seen some sign that no one but himself couldunderstand. "Boy! not that! not that!"

Already Suvy had started to rise, to drop himself backwards on hisrider. 

He heard and obeyed. He went up no more than to half his height, thenseemed to be struck by a cyclone. Had all the frightful dynamic of anearthquake abruptly focused in his being, the fearful convulsion of hismuscles could scarcely have been greater. It was all so sudden, soswift and terrible, that no man beheld how it was done. It was simplya mad delirium of violence, begun and ended while one tumultuousshudder shook the crowd. 

Everyone saw something loose and twisting detached from the pony'sback. Everyone witnessed a blur upon the air and knew it was the man. He was flung with catapultic force against a frightened cow. He struckwith arms and legs extended. He clung like a bur to the bovine's side, for a moment before he dropped--and everyone roared unfeelingly, inrelief of the tension on the nerves. 

The next they knew Van was there with his horse, shaking the animal'smuzzle. 

"My boy!" he said. "My boy! My luck has changed!"

Apparently it had. The man who had thought he could ride the horselimped weakly to a blanket-roll, and sat himself down to gather up thepieces of his breath and consciousness. He wanted no more. He felt itwas cheap at the price he had paid to escape with a hint of his life. 

Van waited for nothing, not even the money that Charlie of the hay-yardwas holding. He mounted to the saddle that had been the seat of hell, and in joy unspeakable Suvy walked away, in response to the pressure ofhis knees. 

CHAPTER XLII

THE FURNACE OF GOLD

All the following day, which was Thursday, two small companies were outin the hills. One was Beth's, where she, Glen, and Pratt toiled slowlyover miles and miles of baking mountains and desert slopes and rocks, tracing out the reservation boundary with a long slender ribbon ofsteel. 

The other group, equally, if less openly, active, comprised the sheriffand three of his men. They were trailing out the boundary of one man'sendurance, against fatigue, starvation, and the hatred of his kind. 

Barger had been at his work once more, slaying and robbing for hisneeds. He had killed a Piute trailer, put upon his tracks; he hadrobbed a stage, three private travelers, and a freight-team loaded withprovisions. He had lived on canned tomatoes and ginger snaps for aweek--and the empty tins sufficiently blazed his orbit. 

He was known to be mounted, armed, and once more reduced to extremitiesin the way of procuring food. A trap had been laid, a highway baitedwith an apparently defenseless wagon, with two mere desert prospectorsand their outfit for a load--and this he was expected to attack. 

The morning waned and the afternoon was speeding. Old Pratt, with Bethand Glen, was eager to finish by sunset. The farther he walked themore the surveyor apparently warmed to his work. Beth became footsoreby noon. But she made no complaint. She plodded doggedly ahead, theribbon-like "chain" creeping like a serpent, on and on before her. 

At the forward end Glen was dragging the thing persistently over hillsand dales, and bearing the rod for Pratt with his transit to sight. 

The surveyor himself was at times as much as a mile or more behind, dumbly waving Glen to right or left, as he peered through his glass andset the course by the compass and angles of his transit. Anon hesignaled the two to wait, and Beth sat down to watch him come, "setup, " and wave them onward as before. 

She was thus alone, at the end of the chain, for hours at a stretch. So often as Pratt came up from the rear and established a station forhis instrument, she asked how the line was working out, and what werethe prospects for the end. 

"Can't tell till we get much closer to the claim, " said Pratt, withnever varying patience. "We'll know before we die. "

In the heat that poured from sky and rocks it might have been possibleto doubt the surveyor's prediction. But Beth went on. Her exhaustionincreased. The glare of the cloudless sky and greenless earth seemedto burn all the moisture from her eyes. The terrible silence, thedread austerity of mountains so rock-ribbed and desolate, oppressed herwith a sense of awe. 

She was toiling as many a man has toiled, through the ancient, burned-out furnace of gold, so intensely physical all about her; andalso she was toiling no less painfully through the furnace of gold thatlove must ever create so long as the dross must be burned from humanore that the bullion of honor, loyalty, and faith may shine in itspurity and worth. 

She began to feel, in a slight degree, the tortures that Van, oldGettysburg, Napoleon, and Dave had undergone for many weary years. Itwas not their weakness for the gold of earth that had drawn themrelentlessly on in lands like these; it was more their fate, a speciesof doom, to which, like the helpless puppets that we are, we must allat last respond. 

She felt a new weight in the cruelty whereby the owners of the"Laughing Water" claim had been suddenly bereft of all they possessedafter all their patient years of serving here in this arid waste ofminerals. The older men in Van's partnership she pitied. 

For Van she felt a sense of championing love. His cause was her cause, come what might--at least until she could no longer keep alive herhope. Her passion to set herself to rights in his mind was great, butsecondary, after all, to the love in her heart, which would not, couldnot die, and which, by dint of its intensity, bore her onward to fightfor his rights. 

Alone so much in the burning land all day, she had long, long hours inwhich to think of Van, long hours in which to contemplate the silenceand the vast dispassion of this mountain world. Her own inward burningoffset the heat of air and earth; a sense of the aridness her heartwould know without Van's love once more returned, was counter to thearidness of all these barren rocks. The fervor of her love it was thatbore her onward, weary, sore, and drooping. 

What would happen at the end of day, if Pratt should confirm theLawrence survey, bestowing the claim on Bostwick and McCoppet, she didnot dare to think. Her excitement increased with every chain lengthmoving her onward towards the cove. She did not know the hills orravines, the canyons descended or acclivities so toilsomely climbed, and, therefore, had not a guide in the world to raise or depress herhope. There was nothing to do but sustain the weary march and awaitthe survey's end. 

All day in Goldite, meanwhile, Van had been working towards an end. Hehad two hundred dollars, the merest drop in the bucket, as he knew, with which to fight the Bostwick combination. He was thoroughly awarethat even when the line could be run, establishing some error or fraudon the part of surveyor Lawrence, the fight would barely be opened. 

McCoppet and Bostwick, with thousands of dollars at command, coulddelay him, block his progress, force him into court, and perhaps evenbeat him in the end. The enginery of dollars was crushing in itsmight. Nevertheless, if a survey showed that the line had been falselymoved, he felt he could somewhat rely upon himself to make the seat ofwar too warm for comfort. 

There was no surveyor nearer than two hundred miles, with Pratt, as Vanexpressed it, "camping with the foe. " He had shaken his partnersuntimely from their beds that morning--(the trio were mining nights, onthe four-to-midnight shift)--and busied them all with the work of theday, by way of making preparations. 

He spent nearly twenty silver dollars on the wire, telegraphing varioustowns to secure a competent man. He sent a friend to the Governmentoffice, where Lawrence was up to his ears in work, and procured all thedata, including metes and bounds, of the reservation tract before itsfateful opening. 

The day was consumed in the petty affairs attendant upon such acampaign. When his three old partners went away to their work at fouro'clock in the afternoon, a wire had come from far out north that a manwho was competent to run the line was starting for Goldite forthwith. 

The moonless night, at ten o'clock, found Van alone at his tent. Fromthe top of the hill whereon he had camped a panoramic view of all thetown swung far in both directions. The glare of the lamps, the noiseof life--even the odor of man upon the air--impinged upon his senseshere, as he sat before the door and gazed far down upon it. He thoughtthat man with his fire, smells, and din made chaos in a spot that wasotherwise sacred to nature. 

He thought of the ceaseless persistence with which the human familyhaunts all the corners of the earth, pursues life's mysteries, invadesits very God. He thought of this desert as a place created barren, lifeless, dead, and severe for some inscrutable purpose--perhaps evenfashioned by the Maker as His place to be alone. But the haunter wasthere with his garish town, his canvas-tented circus of a day, and Godhad doubtless moved. 

How little the game amounted to, at the end of a man's short span!What a senseless repetition it seemed--the same old comedies, the sameold tragedies, the same old bits of generosity, and greed, of weakness, hope, and despair! Except for a warm little heartful of love--ah_love_! He paused at that and laughed, unmirthfully. That was thething that made of it a Hades, or converted the desert into heaven!

"Dreamers! dreamers--all of us!" he said, and he went within to flattendown his blankets for the night. 

He had finally blown out his candle and stretched himself upon theground, to continue his turmoil of thinking, when abruptly his sharpear caught at a sound as of someone slipping on a stone that turned, just out upon the slope. He sat up alertly. 

Half a minute passed. Then something heavy lurched against the tent, the flap was lifted, and a man appeared, stooped double as if in pain. 

"Who's there?" demanded Van. "Is that you, Gett?" He caught up hisgun, but it and the hand that held it were invisible. 

"It's me, " said a voice--a croaking voice. "Matt Barger. "

He fell on the floor, breathing in some sort of anguish, and Van strucka match, to light the candle. 

The flame flared blindingly inside the canvas whiteness. A great, moving shadow of Van was projected behind him on the wall. The lightgleamed brightly from his gun. But it fell on an inert mass whereBarger had fallen to the earth. 

He did not move, and Van, mechanically igniting the candle's wick, while he eyed the man before him, beheld dry blood, and some that wasfresh, on the haggard face, on the tattered clothing, and even on oneloose hand. 

"Barger!" he said. "What in thunder, man----"

The outlaw rallied his failing strength and raised himself up on onehand. He could barely speak, but his lips attempted a smile. 

"I thought I heard you--call fer the joker, " he said, "and so--I come. "

Van was up. He saw that the man had been literally shot to pieces. One of his arms was broken. A portion of his scalp was gone. He waspierced in the body and leg. He had met the posse, fought his fight, escaped with wounds that must have stopped any animal on earth, andthen had dragged himself to Van, to repay his final debt. 

"I haven't called--I haven't called for anything, " said Van. "You'rewounded, man, you're----"

Barger rose up weakly to his knees. 

"Need the money, don't you--now?" he interrupted. "You can--use thereward, I guess. "

"Good God, I don't want that kind of money!" Van exclaimed. "Who gotyou, Matt--who got you?"

"Sheriff, " said the convict dispassionately. "Good man, Christler--anda pretty good shot--but I got away with his lead. "

He slumped again, like a waxen thing on melting props, deprived of allsupport. 

Van plunged out to the water bench, with its bucket, near the door. Hebrought back a basin of water, knelt on the ground, and bathed theconvict's face. He poured some liquor between the dead-white lips. Heslashed and unbuttoned the clothing and tried to staunch the wounds. He bound up the arm, put a bandage on the leg and body, continuing fromtime to time to dash cold water in the pallid, bearded face. 

Barger had fainted at last. What hideous tortures the fellow hadendured to drag and drive himself across the mountain roughnesses towin to this tent, Van could but weakly imagine. 

The convict finally opened his eyes and blinked in the light of thecandle. 

"What in hell--was the use of my comin' here, " he faltered, "if youdon't take the money--the reward?"

"I don't want it!" said Van. "I told you that before. "

Barger spoke with difficulty. 

"It's different now; they've--got you in a hole. Van Buren, I'm yourmeat! I'm--nuthin' but meat, but you acted--as if I was a man!"

"We're all in a hole--it's life, " said Van, continuing his attentionsto the wounds. "I don't want a cent of blood-money, Matt, if I have tostarve on the desert. Now lie where you are, and maybe go to sleep. You won't be disturbed here till morning. "

"By mornin'--all hell can't--disturb me, " Barger told him painfully, with something like a ghastly smile upon his lips. "I'm goin'--thereto see. "

He lapsed off again into coma. Van feared the man was dead. Buthaving lived a stubborn life, Barger relinquished his hold unwillingly, despite his having ceased at last to care. 

For nearly an hour Van worked above him, on the ground. Then the mannot only aroused as before, but sat up, propped on his arm. 

"God, I had to--wake!" he said. "I was sure--forgettin' to tell you. "

Van thought the fellow's mind was wandering. 

"Lie down, Matt, lie down, " he answered. "Try to take it easy. "

"Too late--fer me to take--anything easy, " replied the outlaw, speakingwith a stronger voice than heretofore. "Gimme a drink of whisky. "

Van gave him the drink and he tossed it off at a draught. 

"I said to myself I'd be--hanged if I'd tell you, that--day you cheatedthe quicksand, " Barger imparted jerkily, "but you've got--a--right toknow. McCoppet and that--pal of his give Lawrence twentythousand--dollars, cash, to queer you on the--reservation line and runyou off your claim. "

Van scrutinized the sunken face and glittering eyes with the closestattention. 

"What's that?" he said. "Bought Lawrence to fake out the reservationline? Who told you, Matt? Who told you that?"

The convict seemed to gain in strength. He was making a terribleeffort to finish all he had to impart. 

"Trimmer put me--on to all the game. It was him that told me--you wasgoin' through, when I--pretty near got you, in the pass. "

Van's eyes took on a deep intensity. 

"Trimmer? Trimmer?"

"Larry Trimmer--Pine-tree Trimmer, " explained the convict impatiently. "McCoppet--wanted you detained, the day they--jumped your claim. Lawrence--he run the line out crooked fer--twenty thousand bucks. Culver was put away by Cayuse, mebbe because--he was square--Larrywasn't sure---- I guess--that's all, but it ought to--help you some. "

He dropped himself down and languidly closed his eyes. 

"Good heavens, man, " said Van, still staring, "are you sure of whatyou're saying?"

There was no response for a time. Then Barger murmured:

"Excuse me, Van Buren, fer--bein' so damn--long--dyin'. "

"You're not dying, Matt--go to sleep, " said. Van. "I'll be herebeside you, all night. "

He sat down, got up and sat down again, stirred to the depths of hisbeing by the story the man had revealed. Beth's money, then, had gonefor this, to bribe a Government agent! A tumult of mad, revengefulthoughts went roaring through his mind. A grim look came upon hisface, and fire was flashing from his eyes. He arose and sat down adozen times, all the while looking at the worn, broken figure that layon the earth at his feet. What an ill-used, gaunt, and exhausted frameit was, loose and abandoned by the strength that once had filled itwith vigor and might. What a boyish look had come at last upon thehaggard, sunken face!

The night wind was chill. He had forgotten for himself, but he thoughtof it now for Barger. He laid his blankets on the inert limbs and uparound the shoulders. 

Perhaps another hour went by, with Van still sleepless by his charge. The convict stirred. 

"Van--Buren, " he said in a hoarse, rattling whisper, "Van----"

Van was instantly alert. 

"Hello. "

Barger partially raised his hand. 

"So long, "--and the hand dropped downward. 

"Matt!" answered Van, quickly kneeling on the earth. He caught up thefingers, felt their faint attempt to close upon his own--and the man onthe ground was dead. 

CHAPTER XLIII

PREPARING THE NET FOR A DRAW

Beth Kent, as the sun was going from the sky, fell down three times inutter exhaustion. She and the others had come to within a mile of the"Laughing Water" claim. Pratt was far away in the rear, on the last ofhis stations. Glen, in the lead, was forging ahead on a second supplyof strength. Hidden from the sight of either of the others, Beth wasready for collapse. 

But onward crept that merciless ribbon of steel that Glen was dragging. Three times the girl rose and stumbled onward, up the last acclivity. Her legs were like lead. She stubbed her toes on every rock. Shecould almost have cried with the aches of weariness. It seemed as ifthat terrible hill unfolded new and steeper slopes for every one sheclimbed. 

She went down repeatedly. To have lain there, hungry, but indifferentto anything but sleep, would have been the most heavenly thing shecould conceive. She was literally falling up the hill, with all hermachinery slumping towards inertia, when finally Pratt, on his distanthill, sent the signal for Glen to halt. 

"All right, Beth--rest!" he called from the end of the chain, and shesank at once in her tracks. 

It was almost dusk when Pratt came toiling up the hill. Glen had comedown to Beth's position. He too was thoroughly tired. How the linehad come out was more than he could care. But Beth, with the last ofher flickering strength, arose to hasten Pratt. 

"No use in the three of us being seen, " he said, planting his transitin the sand, but making no effort to adjust it to a level. "That ridgethere overlooks the claim. I'll climb up alone and take a bird's-eyeview. "

"We're as near as that!" cried Beth in startled surprise. "Then whatdo you think? Does the line include the claim?"

"I'll have to look around from the ridge, " repeated Pratt withaggravating caution. "You can wait ten minutes here. "

He started laboriously up the slope--and Beth stood tensely watching. She thought she saw him top the ridge, but he disappeared from sight. 

The darkness was gathering swiftly in all the desert world. The girl'sexcitement and impatience grew with a new flare up of energy. To thinkthat Searle was so near at hand, with fate a-hover in the air, sent herpulses bounding madly. 

It seemed as if Pratt would never return from the hill. She couldalmost have dashed to the summit herself, to learn the outcome of theirlabors. Then at last, from a small ravine, not far away, he appearedin his leisurely manner. 

Beth ran along the slope to meet him. 

"Well?" she cried. "What did you find?"

He smiled. "Unless I'm crazy, Lawrence is either a liar or a fool. That claim is safe outside the line by nearly an eighth of a mile. "

"Oh!" cried the girl. She collapsed on the ground and sobbed inexhaustion and joy. 

She could go no further. She had kept her strength and courage up forthis, and now, inside the goal, she cared not what might happen. 

They camped upon the spot. The man with the car, which had taken themout, had been ordered to meet them down at Reservation town--themushroom camp which had sprung into being no more than a week beforethe rush. All the way down there Pratt continued alone. He and thechauffeur, long after dark, returned with provisions and blankets. They had driven the car as far as possible, then climbed the ravine onfoot. 

At nine o'clock Beth was asleep beneath the stars, dreaming of hermeeting with Van. 

At daylight all were up, and in the chill of the rarified mountain airwere walking stiffly to the car. The chauffeur, who had slept in hismachine, promised breakfast by eight at Mrs. Dick's. He tore up theroad and he tore away their breath, but he came into Goldite half anhour ahead of time, and claimed he had driven "pretty slow. "

Meantime, the night in the mining-camp had brought no untowardexcitement. Van, at his tent, with the covered figure lying on theearth, had welcomed his partners at midnight with the news that a"homeless and worn-out pilgrim of the desert" had come desiring rest. He was sleeping hard; he was not to be disturbed. In the morning hewas scheduled to depart. 

Tired to utter unconcern, the three old worthies made their beds withVan beside the man at peace. And the whole five slept with a trust andabandon to nature that balanced the living and the dead. 

Van was out, had eaten his breakfast, and was waiting for the sheriffwhen Beth and her party returned. He beheld them, felt his heart liftupward like a lever in his breast, at sight of Beth in her male attire, and grimly shut his jaws. 

Christler, the sheriff, arrived a little after eight, bringing in awounded deputy. Barger had shot him in the thigh. Van did not waitfor his man to eat, but urged him home to his bachelor shack and sathim down to a drink of something strong, with a cracker to munch for ameal. 

Christler was tired. He was somewhat stout; he had been in the saddlealmost constantly for weeks, and now, as a victim of chagrin anddisappointment, he was utterly dejected and done. 

"Good Lord, Van, ain't a man to breathe--hain't he got no rights tolive, whatsoever?" he inquired. "You'd chase me up, or somebody would, if I was in my grave. "

"You'd break out of your grave, " Van told him, "if you knew what'sgoing on. "

Christler looked dubious, draining at his glass. 

"Well, I dunno. It 'ud have to be something pretty rich. "

"Bill, " said Van, "you're going to stand in and work with me as youhaven't worked for a year. It's going to be worth it. Opal McCoppet, and one Searle Bostwick, of New York, have stolen my claim bycorrupting Lawrence for twenty thousand dollars, running a falsereservation line, and maybe putting Culver out of the way because hewas square in his business. "

Christler paused in the act of biting his cracker. 

"What!"

"There's going to be something doing, Bill, " Van added, leaning forwardon the table. "I'm going to round up all this gang to-day if it killsyou to keep on the trail. "

Christler still sat staring. 

"By the Lord Harry!" he said. "By the Lord--but, Van, I didn't comehome to rest. I've got Barger going, somewhere, shot to a sieve. Buthe's some disappeared. If that ain't just my luck! I'm goin' to githim though, you bet! Lord!--my pride--my profession pride--not tomention that little old reward! I admit I want that money, Van. Ireckon I've pretty near----"

"Yes, you've earned it, " Van interrupted. "I'm going to see that youget it. Bill, but first you get busy with me. "

"You'll see that I get----" Christler put the cracker in his mouth. "Don't talk to a genuine friend like that. I'm tired already. "

"Are you?" said Van. "Let's see. Barger is here--in camp. "

Up shot the sheriff as if from the force of a blast. 

"What!" he shrilled. "Barger! Van, I'll----"

Van grinned. 

"Don't forget you're tired, Bill. Matt won't get away. "

"Good Lord, boy--tell me where's he at!" cried Christler, dancing onthe floor as he strapped his guns upon him. "Me a-thinkin' I had shothim up and all this time----"

"You shot him enough, poor devil, " Van interrupted quietly. "He's deadin my tent on the hill. "

The sheriff paused with one hand held in the air. 

"Dead! Crawled all the way to Goldite!" He started for the door. 

"Hold on, " said the horseman, blocking his path. "I told you Mattcan't get away. We're going out to get Lawrence first, and thenMcCoppet and his friend. "

CHAPTER XLIV

THE ENGINES OF CLIMAX

McCoppet was in town. He had come to camp at midnight of the previousday, duly followed by his friend Larry Trimmer. The lumberman hadwaxed impatient. Fully two thousand dollars of the money he had"earned" was still unpaid--and hard to get. He had gone to the"Laughing Water" claim, in vain, and a surly heat was rising in hisveins. 

Bostwick was due, in his car, at nine o'clock, His visit to Goldite wasnot entirely one of business. He had grown alarmed at the lack of newsfrom Beth. His letters had been ignored. He not only feared for thefate of his affairs of the heart, but perhaps even more for what shemight have done with respect to the money she had asked him to return, a very small proportion of which he was now prepared to repay. 

Meantime, Beth, her brother, and Pratt had gratified their most cryingneeds on Algy's cooking, much to that worthy Celestial's delight. There were two things Beth intended to perform: report the results ofher labors to Van, and attack Mr. Lawrence in his den. 

Precisely what she meant to say or do to the Government representativeshe did not or could not determine. Some vague idea of making himconfess to an infamy practiced at Bostwick's instance was the most shehad in mind. If half the success already achieved could be expectedhere, she would have a report worth while to make when Van should bepresently encountered. 

Impetuous, eager to hasten with her work, she insisted upon animmediate advance. Glenmore readily supported her position. Prattdeveloped shyness. His forte was hiking over desert hills, lugging atransit, running lines or levels; he felt out of place as a fighter, oreven an accuser. Nevertheless, he went, for Beth insisted. 

Already the streets were crowded full of life, as the three proceededdown the thoroughfare. A mining-camp is a restless thing; its peopleslive in the streets. Freight teams, flowing currents of men, chains ofdusty mules, disordered cargoes on the sidewalks, and a couple ofautomobiles were glaringly cut out from their shadows, as the sunlightpoured upon them. Sunlight and motion, false-fronted buildings, tents, and mountains, and fever--that is the camp on the desert. 

With excitement increasing upon her at every step, Beth glanced at thecrowds in a rapid search for Van. He was not to be seen. In all thethrong, where old men and youths, pale and swarthy, lazy and alert werecirculating like the blood of Goldite's arteries, there was not a facethat she knew. 

They came to the office where Lawrence presided just as a stranger wasdeparting, Lawrence was alone. He occupied the inner apartment, asCulver had done, but the door was standing open. 

It was Beth who knocked and entered first as the man called out hisinvitation. She had never in her life appeared more beautiful. Colorwas flaming in her cheeks as on a rose. Her eyes were exceptionallybright and brown. The exquisite coral of her lips was delicatelytremulous with all her short, quick breathing. 

Lawrence arose, as she and the others appeared in the door, and removedhis hat. He was a short, florid person, with a beard of fiery red. His eyes were of the lightest gray; and they were shifting. 

"Good-morning, " he said, in undisguised astonishment, beholding Beth. "You--pardon me--you----"

"Good-morning, " Beth replied faintly. "We called--are you Mr. Lawrence?"

"At your service. " Lawrence bowed. "I rarely expect--in my line ofwork--my business. Miss--Miss----"

"Miss Kent, " said Glenmore, interrupting. "And my name is Kent. Isuppose you're wise to Mr. Pratt. "

Lawrence continued to bow. 

"I'm very happy to--how are you, Pratt? How are you? Won't you have achair, Miss Kent?"

Pratt nodded and murmured a greeting. He was decidedly uneasy. 

Beth always moved by impulse. It hastened her now to the issue. Shesat down and faced their man. 

"Mr. Lawrence, " she said, "I believe you ran the reservation line, notlong ago, and gave Mr. Bostwick and a friend of his the 'LaughingWater' claim. "

Lawrence looked alive. 

"I certainly ran the line, " he said. "Instructions came from--fromheadquarters, to ascertain the precise limitations of the reservation. The _results_ gave the 'Laughing Water' claim to its present owners, byright of prior location, after the opening hour, as the claim wasincluded in the tract. " He had uttered this speech before. It fellvery glibly from his tongue. 

"Yes, we know all that--so far as it's true, " said Beth with startlingcandor, "but we know it isn't true at all, and you've got to confessthat you made some ridiculous blunder or else that you were bribed. "

She had not intended to plump it out so bluntly, so baldly, but acertain indignation in her breast had been rapidly increasing, and herimpulse was not to be stayed. 

"Gee!" murmured Glen, "that's going some!"

Lawrence turned white, whether with anger or fright could not have beendetermined. 

"Miss Kent!" he said. "You--you're making a very serious----"

"Oh, I know!" she interrupted. "I expect you to deny it. But a greatdeal of money--my money--has been used, and Mr. Pratt has run theline--with myself and my brother--yesterday--so we know that you'veeither been fooled or you've cheated. "

Lawrence had risen. His face was scarlet. 

"Upon my word!" he said. "Pratt, you and your friend I can order fromthe office! The lady----"

"You can't order anything!--not a thing!" said Beth. "Glen! Mr. Pratt!--you've got to stay and help! I know the truth--and it's got tobe confessed! Mr. Van Buren----"

"I can leave myself, since you insist upon remaining, " interruptedLawrence, taking his hat and striding towards the door, in a panic toget to McCoppet for much-needed aid. "Such an utterly unheard ofaffront as this----"

"Glen! run and find Mr. Van Buren!" Beth broke in excitedly. "Don'tlet him go, Mr. Pratt!"

Lawrence had reached his outer office and was almost at the door. Bethwas hastening after, with Glen at her heels. All were abruptly halted. 

Van and the sheriff appeared in the door, before which idlers werepassing. Beth was wild with joy. 

"Van, " she cried, "Oh, Mr. Van Buren, I'm sure this man has cheated youout of your claim! We ran the line ourselves--my brother, Mr. Pratt, and I--yesterday--we finished yesterday! We found the claim is notinside the reservation! My money was used--I'm sure for bribery! Butthey've got to give you back your claim, if it takes every penny I'vegot! I was sending Glen to let you know. I asked Mr. Lawrence toconfess! You won't let him go! You mustn't let him go! I am surethere's something dreadful going on!"

It was a swift, impassioned speech, clear, ringing, honest in everyword. It thrilled Van wondrously, despite the things that hadbeen--her letter, and subsequent events. He all but lost track of thebusiness in hand, in the light of her sudden revelations. He did notanswer readily, and Lawrence broke out in protestation. 

"It's infamous!" he cried. "If anyone here except a woman hadcharged--had been guilty of all these outrageous lies----"

Half a dozen loiterers had halted at the door, attracted by the shrillhigh tones of his voice. 

"That's enough of that, Lawrence, " Van interrupted quietly. "Everyword of this is true. You accepted twenty thousand dollars to falsifythat line. Your chief was murdered to get him out of the way, becauseit was _known_ you could be bribed. I came here to get you, and I'llget all the crowd, if it kills half the town in the fight. " With onequick movement he seized his man by the collar. "Here, Bill, hustlehim out, " he said to Christler. "We've got no time to waste. "

Lawrence, the sheriff, and himself were projected out upon the sidewalkby one of his quick maneuvers. A crowd of men came running to theplace. Above the rising murmur of their voices, raised in excitement, came a shrill and strident cry. 

"Van! Van!" was the call from someone in the crowd. 

It was lean old Gettysburg. Dave and Napoleon were pantingly chasingwhere he ran. 

"Van!" yelled Gettysburg again. "It's Barger!--Barger!--dead in thetent--it's Barger--up there--dead!"

Barger! The name acted as swiftly on the crowd as oil upon a flame. It seemed as if the wave of news swept like a tide across the street, down the thoroughfare, and into every shop. 

Two automobiles were halted in the road, their engines purring as theystood. Their drivers dismounted to join the gathering throng. One ofthe men was Bostwick, down from the hills. He had searched for Beth atMrs. Dick's, and then had followed here. 

"Barger! Barger's dead in camp and the 'Laughing Water' claim wasstolen--and Culver killed!" One man bawled it to the crowd--and itsped to Bostwick's ears. 

One being only departed from the scene--Trimmer, the lumberman, swiftlyseeking McCoppet. 

Van, in his heat, had told too much, accusing the prisoner in hand. Hesilenced Gettysburg abruptly and started to force aside the crowd. 

"Gentlemen, gentlemen, move aside, " he said. "I've got--by Jupe!there's Bostwick!"

It was Bostwick fleeing to his car that Van had discovered. Searle hadseen enough in the briefest of glances. He had heard too much. Herealized that only in flight could the temper of the mob be avoided. He had seen this mob in action once before--and the walls of hisstomach caved. 

Like a youthful Hercules in strength and action, Van went plungingthrough the crowd to get his man. But he could not win. Bostwick hadspeeded up his motor in a panic for haste and his car leaped away likea dragon on wings, the muffler cut-out roaring like a gattling. 

Van might perhaps have shot and killed the escaping man who held thewheel, but he wanted Searle alive. 

A roar from the crowd replied to the car. A score of men ran madly inpursuit. None of them knew the details of the case, but they knew thatBostwick was wanted. 

They drifted rearward from the hurtling car like fragments of paper inits wake. The few down street who danced for a moment before themodern juggernaut, to stop it in its course, sprang nimbly away as itrocketed past--and Searle was headed for the desert. 

One wild, sweeping glance Van cast about, for a horse or something toride. Suvy was stabled, unsaddled, up the street. Bostwick and hiscloud of dust were dropping away in a swiftly narrowing perspective. And there stood a powerful, dusty-red car--empty--its motor in motion!

There was no time to search for its owner. There were half a dozendifferent cars with which Van Buren was familiar. He ran to it, glanced at its levers, wheel, and clutch, recognized the one type hehad coveted, and hurled himself into the seat. 

"Here! You!" yelled the owner, fighting through the crowd, but threebig miners fell upon him and bore him to the earth. They hoped to seea race. 

They saw it begin with a promptness incredible. 

One--two changes of the snarling gears they heard before the deafeningcut-out belched its explosions. Then down the street, in pursuit ofthe first, the second machine was fired. 

The buildings, to Van, were blended in grayish streaks, on either side, as his gaze was fastened on the vanishing car ahead. He shoved up hisspark, gave her all the gas, froze to the wheel like a man ofsteel--and swooped like a ground-skimming comet out upon the world. 

The road for a distance of fully five miles was comparatively level. It was rutted by the wheels of heavy traffic, but with tires in thedusty ruts a car ran unimpeded. 

Both, for a time were in the road, flaying up a cloud of smoke like acyclone ripping out its path. 

Searle had not only gained a half-mile lead, but his car was apparentlyswifter. He knew its every trick and ounce of power. He drovesuperbly. He was reckless now, for he had not missed the knowledgethat behind him was a meteor burning up his trail. 

Like a leaping beast--a road-devouring minotaur--the car with Van shotroaringly through space. He could not tell that Searle, ahead, wasslipping yet further in the lead. He only knew that, come what might, till the mechanism burst, or the earth should split, he would chase hisman across the desert. The dust in the air from Bostwick's car droveblindingly upon him. Far, far away, a mere speck on the road, hebeheld a freight-team approaching--a team of twenty animals at least, that he and Bostwick must encounter. 

A sudden memory of road conditions decided him to move. The ruts wherehe was were bad enough--they were worse where the team must be passed. 

He did not reduce his speed to take to the brush. The car beneath himflung clean off the ground as he swung to climb out of the grooves. Itlanded with all four wheels a-spin, but only struck on two. A suddenswerve, far out of the course, and the monster righted abruptly. Another sharp turn, and away it went again, crushing the brush andflinging up the sand in a track of its own that paralleled the road, but rougher though free from the ruts. 

The brush was small, six inches high, but the wheels bounced over itmadly. The whole car hurtled and bounded in a riot of motion. Itdived, it plunged nose upward, it roared like a fiend--but it shot withcannon-ball velocity across the desert's floor. 

Five minutes later Bostwick's car was almost fronting the team in theroad, with its score of dusty mules. He dared not take the ruts atspeed, and groaned as he slowed to climb the bank. He lost but littletime, however, since once on the side he was going ahead again likemad; nevertheless, he cast a glance behind and saw that his gap hadnarrowed. Moreover, he would not attempt to return to the ruts asbefore, as a second of the teams was coming a mile or so away. 

Like two pitching porpoises, discharging fiery wrath and skimming thegray of the desert sea, the two devices raced upon the brush. Andnerve began to tell. Van was absolutely reckless; Searle was not. Theformer would have crowded on another notch of speed, but Bostwickfeared, and shut off a trifle of his power. Even then he was rocking, quivering, careening onward like a star escaped from its course; andthe gains Van made were slow. 

The man on the second team paused to see them pass. In smoke and dustand with war's own din they cleaved the startled air. And the man whosaw the look that had set on Van's hard-chiseled face was aware thatunless his car should fail there was nothing on earth he could notcatch. 

Bostwick had begun to weaken. The pace over sage-brush, rocks, andbasins of sand was racking both the car and the nerves that held thewheel. How long such a flight could be continued he dared not guess. Even steel has limitations. To what he was fleeing he could scarcelyhave told, since the telegraph would send its word throughout thedesert-land, and overhaul him finally. 

A sickening apprehension assailed him, however, within the minute. Oneof his cylinders was missing. His trained ear caught at the change ofthe "tune, " and he felt his speed decreasing. He glanced back briefly, where the dusty lump of steel, like a red-hot projectile, thundered inhis wake. 

He beheld a sudden fan-like flare of dust in the cloud Van was making. He even faintly heard the far report, and a grim joy sprang in hisbeing. 

Van had blown out a tire. Striking the high places, crowding on thespeed, holding to a straight-away course like a merciless fate, thehorseman heard an air cushion go, felt the lurch and lameness of thecar, and steadied it back upon its road. He did not retreat by so muchas a hair the lever advancing his spark. He did not budge the gascontrol, but left it still wide open. If all of his tires should blowout together he would not halt his pace. He would drive that car todestruction, or to triumph in the race. 

Searle's rejoicing endured but the briefest span. His motor had begunagain to splutter, in mechanical death. Then, with a sudden memory, sweat broke out on Bostwick's face. His gasolene was gone! He hadthoroughly intended refilling his tank, having barely had a sufficientsupply to run him from the claim to camp; and this had been neglected. 

His car bumped slowly for a score of yards, then died by the side ofthe road. He leaped out madly, to assure himself the tank was reallydry. He cursed, he raved. It seemed absurd for this big, hot creatureto be dead. And meantime, like a whirlwind coming on, Van Buren wascrashing down upon him. 

"By God!" he cried, "I'll fix you for this!" and a wild thought flashedto his mind--a thought of taking Van Buren's car and fleeing as before. 

He leaped in the tonneau and caught up a heavy revolver, stored beneaththe seat. He glanced at the cylinder. Four of the cartridges onlywere unused. He remained inside the "fort" of the car, with the weaponcocked and lowered out of sight. 

Charging down like a meteor, melting its very course, Van and the redcar came by leaps and plunges. He was shutting off the powergradually, but still rushing up with frightening speed, when Bostwickraised his gun and fired. 

The bullet went wide, and Van came on. Bostwick steadied and firedagain. There was no such thing as halting the demon in the car. Butthe target's size was rapidly increasing! Nevertheless, the third shotmissed, like the others. Would the madman never halt?

Bostwick dropped a knee to the floor, steadied the barrel on thecushion, lined up the sights, and pulled the trigger. 

With the roar of the weapon Van abruptly drooped. The bullet hadpierced his shoulder. And he still came on. His face had suddenlypaled; his lips had hardened in a manner new to his face. He haltedthe car, aware that his foe had exhausted his ammunition, since no moreshots were fired. 

His own big gun he drew deliberately. To sustain himself, through theshock of his wound, was draining the utmost of his nerve. He washardly ten feet away from the man who stood there, a captive in his car. 

"Well, Searle, " he said, "you're a better shot than I thought--and abetter driver. In fact you drive so almighty well I am going to letyou drive me back to camp. " He arose from his seat. He was bleeding. His left arm was all but useless. "Come down, " he added. "Come downand take my seat. And don't make the slightest error in etiquette, Searle, or I'll see if a forty-some-odd ball will bounce when it landson your skull. "

Bostwick had expected to be shot on the spot. No cornered rat couldhave been more abjectly afraid. His nerve had oozed away the more forthe grimness of the man who stood before him--a man with such a woundas that who was still the master of his forces!

He was terribly white. His teeth fairly chattered in his head. He hadplayed a desperate part--and lost. The race and this present_denouement_ had shattered the man completely. He came down to theground and stood there, silently staring at Van. 

Despite his show of strength Van stepped with difficulty to the back ofhis car and seated himself within. 

"Up in the seat there, Searle, " he repeated, "and drive back atmoderate speed. "

Bostwick's surrender was complete. He climbed to the driver'sposition, still silently, and started the car in an automatic way thatknew no thought of resistance. At the rear of his head Van held thegun, and back towards Goldite they rolled. 

Two miles out the sheriff, in a borrowed car, grimly seated at thedriver's side, came bearing down upon them. The cars were halted longenough for the sheriff to take his place with Searle, and then theyhastened on. 

Christler had instantly seen that Van was wounded. He as quicklyrealized that to rush Van to town and medical attendance was the onlypossible plan. 

He merely said, "You're hurt. "

Van tried to smile. "Slightly punctured. " He was rapidly losingstrength. 

Christler thought to divert him. He shouted above the purring of thecar. 

"Found Matt all right. I'm goin' to take him back to the Stateauthorities in that convict suit that's hangin' 'round the store. "

Van was instantly aroused. "No you don't Bill! No you don't! I'vegot use for those stripes myself. You'll buy Matt the best suit ofclothes in town, and charge the bill to me. "

If Bostwick heard, or understood, he did not make a sign. He wasdriving like a servant on the box, but he could not have stood on hisfeet. 

They were nearing the town. A cavalcade of horsemen, drivers ofbuggies, and men on foot came excitedly trooping down the road to meetthe short procession. 

Despite his utmost efforts, Van was gone. Weak from the loss of bloodand the shock, he could hold up his frame no longer. 

"Bill, " he said, as the sheriff turned around, "I guess I'm--allin--for a little. Cold storage _him_, till I get back on my feet. "

He waved a loose gesture towards Bostwick, then sank unconscious on thefloor. 

CHAPTER XLV

THE LAST CIGARS

Trimmer, the lumberman, not to be stayed, had broken in upon McCoppetruthlessly, with perceptions unerring concerning the troubles in theair, when Lawrence was arrested. The gambler consented to an interviewwith instinctive regard for his safety. That something significant waslaid on Trimmer's mind he felt with a subtle sense of divination. 

The lumberman, smoking furiously, came to his point with utmostdirectness. 

"Opal, " he said, "I'm goin' away, and I want ten thousand dollars. Iwant it now. You owe me some you ain't paid up, and now I'm raisin'the ante. "

"You're raising bunions, " McCoppet assured him softly, throwing awayhis unsmoked cigar and putting a fresh one in his mouth. "I'll pay youwhat I agreed--when I get the ready cash. "

"Think so, do you, Opal?" inquired the lumberman, eying his man ingrowing restlessness. "I think different, savvy? I'm onto you andyour game with Lawrence--you payin' him twenty thousand bucks to fakethe reservation. I want ten thousand right away, in the next tenminutes, or you'd better pack your trunk. "

McCoppet, startled by the accusation, watched the savage manner inwhich the lumberman ate up the smoke of his weed. He could think ofone way only in which a man of Trimmer's mentality could have come uponcertain private facts. 

"So, " he said presently, "you crawled in under this place, this floor, and caught it through the cracks. "

"Knot-hole, " said Trimmer gesturing, "that one over there. And I tellyou, Opal, I want that money now. Do you hear? I want it now!" Hesmashed his heavy fist upon the table, and off flew the ash of hiscigar. 

"What will you do if I refuse?" the gambler asked him coldly. "Wait!Hold on! Don't forget, my friend, that Culver's murder is up to you, and I'll give you up in a minute. "

The lumberman rose. Every moment that passed increased the danger tothem both. 

"Look a-here, Opal, " he said in a threatening voice of anger, "I ain'ta-goin' to fool with you no longer. Hear me shout? Culver's up to youas much as me. You stole the 'Laughin' Water' claim. There's hella-sizzlin' down the street right now--down to Lawrence's. If you don'tcough up ten thousand bucks pretty pronto----"

"So, Larry--so, you've split on me already, " the gambler interrupted, rising and narrowing his gaze upon the bloated face. "You've peddledit maybe, and now you come to me----"

"I ain't peddled nuthin'!" Trimmer cut in angrily. "I didn't tell noone but Barger, and he ain't no friend of Van Buren's. But Lawrence iscaught. Pratt run out the line, and now it's me that stands betweenyou and trouble, and I want the money to stand. "

McCoppet was far less calm than he appeared. How much was alreadyreally known to the town was a matter wholly of conjecture. AndTrimmer's haste to cash in thus and probably vanish excited his gravestsuspicions. He eyed his friend narrowly. 

"Larry, we'll wait and see how much you've maybe leaked. "

"No we won't wait fer nuthin'!--not fer nuthin', understand?" correctedTrimmer aggressively. "I ain't a-trustin' you, Opal, no more! Youdone me up at every turn, and now, by God! you're goin' to come toterms!" He pulled an ugly, rusty gun, and thumped with its muzzle onthe table. "You'll never leave this room alive if I don't git themoney. Ring fer it, Opal, ring the bell, and order it in with thedrinks!"

McCoppet would have temporized. It was not so much the money now asthe state of affairs in the street. How much was known?--and what wasbeing done? These were the questions in his mind. 

"Don't get excited, friend, " he said. "If things are out, and you andI are caught with the aces in our sleeves, we may have to fight back toback. " He was edging around to draw his pistol unobserved, But Trimmer was alert. "Stand still, there, Opal, I've got the drop, "he said. "I'm lookin' out fer number one, this morning, understand?You ring the----"

A sudden, loud knock at the door broke in upon his speech, and both menstarted in alarm. 

"Opal! Opal!" cried a muffled voice in accents of warning just outsidethe door, "Christler's on your trail! Come out! Come out and--huh!Too late! You'll have to get out the window!"

The roar and excitement of the coming crowd, aroused to a wildindignation, broke even to the den. An army of citizens, leading theway for Christler's deputies, was storming McCoppet's saloon. 

He heard, and a little understood. He knew too much to attempt toexplain, to accuse even Trimmer to a mob in heat. Nothing but flightwas possible, and perhaps even that was a risk. 

He started for the window. Trimmer leaped before him. 

"No you don't!" he said. "I told you, Opal----"

"Take that!" the gambler cut in sharply. His gun leaped out with flameat its end; and the roar, fire, bullet, and all seemed to bury in thelumberman's body. A second shot and a third did the same--and Trimmerwent down like a log. 

His gun had fallen from his hand. With all his brute vitality hecrawled to take it up. One of the bullets had pierced his heart, butyet he would not die. 

McCoppet had snatched up a chair and with it he beat out the window. Then Trimmer's gun crashed tremendously--and Opal sank against the sill. 

He faced his man. A ghastly pallor spread upon his countenance. Hewent down slowly, like a man of melting snow, his cigar still hangingon his lip. 

He saw the lumberman shiver. But the fellow crowded his cigar stump inhis mouth, with fire and all, and chewed it up as he was dying. 

"Good shot, " said McCoppet faintly. His head went forward on hisbreast and he crumpled on the floor. 

CHAPTER XLVI

WASTED TIME

Van was conveyed to Mrs. Dick's. The fever attacked him in hishelplessness and delirium claimed him for its own. He glided fromunconsciousness into a wandering state of mind before the hour of noon. 

His wound was an ugly, fiery affair, made worse by all that he did. For having returned from his lethargy, he promptly began to fight anewall his battles with horses, men, and love that had crossed his summerorbit. 

Gettysburg, Dave, and Napoleon begged for the brunt of the battle. They got it. For three long days Van lay upon his bed and flung themall around the room. He hurt them, bruised them, even called themnames, but ever like three faithful dogs, whom beatings will neverdiscourage--the beatings at least of a master much beloved--theyreturned undaunted to the fray, with affection constantly increasing. 

There were three other nurses--two women and Algy, the cook. But Bethwas the one who slept the least, who glided most often to the sickman's side, who wetted his lips and renewed the ice and gave him acooler pillow. And she it was who suffered most when he called uponher name. 

"Beth! Beth!" he would call in a wildness of joy, and then pass hishand across his eyes, repeating: "--this is the man I hate more thananyone else in the world!"

That she finally knew, that the tell-tale portion of her letter hadbeen found when Bostwick was searched--all this availed her nothingnow, as she pleaded with Van to understand. He fought his fights, andran his race, and returned to that line so many times that she fearedit would kill him in the end. 

At midnight on that final day of struggling he lay quite exhausted andweak. His mind was still adrift upon its sea of dreams, but he foughthis fights no more. The fever was still in possession, but its methodhad been changed. It had pinned him down as a victim at last, forresistance had given it strength. 

At evening of the seventh day he had slept away the heat. He waswasted, his face had grown a tawny stubble of beard, but his strengthhad pulled him through. 

The sunlight glory, as the great orb dipped into purple hills afar, streamed goldenly in through the window, on Beth, alone at his side. It blazoned her beauty, lingering in her hair, laying its roseate tintupon the pale moss-roses of her cheeks. It richened the wondrousluster of her eyes, and deepened their deep brown tenderness of love. She was gold and brown and creamy white, with tremulous coral lips. Yet on her face a greater beauty burned--the beauty of herinner-self--the beauty of her womanhood, her nature, shining through. 

This was the vision Van looked upon, when his eyes were open at last. He opened them languidly, as one at peace and restored to control byrest. He looked at her long, and presently a faint smile dawned in hiseyes. 

She could not speak, as she knelt at his side, to see him thus return. She could only place her hand upon her cheek and give herself up to hisgaze--give all she was, and all her love, and a yearning too vast to beexpressed. 

The smile from his eyes went creeping down his face as the dawn-glowcreeps down a mountain. Perhaps in a dream he had come upon the truth, or perhaps from the light of her soul. For he said with a faint, wansmile upon his lips:

"I don't believe it, Beth. You meant to write 'love' in your letter. "

The tears sprang out of her eyes. 

"I did! I did! I did!" she sobbed in joy too great to be contained. "I've always loved you, _always_!"

Despite his wound, his weakness--all--she thrust an arm beneath hisneck and pillowed her cheek on his breast. He wanted no furtherexplanation, and she had no words to spend. 

One of his arms was remarkably efficient. It circled her promptly anddrew her up till he kissed her on the lips. Then he presently said:

"How much time have we wasted?"

"Oh, _days_!" she said, warmly blushing. "Ever since that night on thedesert. "

He shook a smiling negative. 

"Wrong. We've wasted all our lives. "

He kissed her again, then sank into slumber with the dusk. 

CHAPTER XLVII

A TRIBUTE TO THE DESERT

Love is a healer without a rival in the world. Van proved it--Van andBeth, of course, together, with Gettysburg, Dave, and Napoleon to help, and Algy to furnish the sauce. All were present, including Glen andMrs. Dick, on the summer day of celebration when at last Van came downto dinner. At sight of the wan, wasted figure, Algy, in hischaracteristic way, fought down his heathen emotions. 

"What's mallah you, Van?" he demanded, his face oddly twitching as hespoke. "Makee evlybody _sick_! That velly superstich! Nobody's gottime cly for you come home--makee my dinner spoil!"

He bolted for the kitchen, swearing in loving Chinese. 

But with that day passed, Van soon snatched back his own. His strengthreturned like a thing that was capable of gladness, lodging where itbelonged. His spirit had never been dimmed. 

Bostwick, who had been detained by the sheriff, faithfully waiting tillVan should "get back on his feet, " was almost relieved when his day fordeparture finally dawned. He was dressed, at Van's express desire, inthe convict suit which he had worn on the day of his arrival. 

Van was on hand when at last the stage, with Bostwick and Christler forpassengers, was ready to pull up the street. 

"Searle, " he said, "for a man of your stripe you are really to beenvied. You're going to about the only place I know where it's evenremotely possible to be good and not be lonesome. "

Searle went. Lawrence, perhaps more fortunate, had managed to escape. He had fled away to Mexico, taking the bulk of his plunder. 

Gettysburg, Dave, and Napoleon returned once more to the placer andsluices on the hill. Glenmore Kent was of the party, as superintendentof the mine. He held a degree from a school of mines, and knew evenmore than he had learned. Moreover, he had saved the gold pilfered byBostwick and McCoppet. 

Then one sunny morning Van and Beth were married by a Justice of thePeace. Algy and Mrs. Dick were the lawful witnesses of the rites. Theonly nuptial present was the gift of a gold mine in the mountains tothe bride. 

"You see, " said Van, "_you_ are my 'Laughing Water' claim--and justabout all I can handle. "

They were alone. She came to his arms and kissed him with all thedivinity and passion of her nature. He presently took her face in hishands and gave her a rough little shake. 

"Where shall we go to spend our honeymoon?"

She blushed like a tint of sunset, softly, warmly, and hid her cheekupon his shoulder. 

"Out in the desert--underneath the sky. "

THE END