"Ah, good morning, Mr. Jepson," said Rimrock pleasantly and put his hand behind his back.

"Good morning," returned Jepson, drawing in a deep breath, "is there anything I can do?"

"Yes," said Rimrock coldly. "I've been away for some time. I'd like to know what's going on. You'll excuse me, Mr. Jepson, if I ask you a few questions about the jumping of the Old Juan claim."

"Ah, yes, yes," spoke up Jepson briskly, "very regrettable case, I'm sure. But you must remember, if you'll pardon my mentioning it, that I spoke of this possibility before. The Old Juan claim, as I told you at the time, placed our entire property in jeopardy. It should have been re-located before all this had happened; but I have turned over the whole affair to our attorneys, McVicker and Ord."

"And what do they think?"

"Well, as to that, I can't say. You see, I have really been frightfully busy. Still, they are a very good firm and I think very likely the affair can somehow be compromised. Looks very bad for the Company, as far as the law goes, if you should ask my private opinion; but all such litigation, while of course very expensive, generally results, in the end, in a compromise."

"Oh, a compromise, eh? Well, sit down a minute; I want to find out a few details. Do you think now, for instance, that Whitney H. Stoddard is back of this man, Ike Bray? Because if he is, and their claim is a good one, it might make some difference to me."

He said this so naturally and with such apparent resignation that Jepson almost rose to the bait, but he had learned Rimrock's ways too well. Such an admission as that, if made before the trial, might seriously affect Stoddard's case. And besides, this was a matter for lawyers.

"Well, as to that, Mr. Jones," he replied apologetically, "I really cannot say. As superintendent of the mine, and lately as acting manager, I am fully occupied, I am sure——"

"Yes, no doubt," observed Rimrock, suddenly changing his tone, "but you've got more time, now—I'll take that manager job off your hands."

"What? Take charge of the mine again?" cried Jepson aghast. "Why, I thought——"

"Very likely," returned Rimrock, "but guess again. I'm still general manager, unless the Directors have fired me; and believe me, I'm going to take charge. In the next few days I'm going to go through this office with a six-shooter and a fine-tooth comb and if I find a single dollar paid out to Ike Bray some ex-manager is liable to get shot. You understand that, now don't you, Mr. Jepson? All right then; we can go ahead. Now will you kindly tell me how, as general manager and mine superintendent, and being worried so much over that claim, you came to let the ordinary assessment work lapse on the apex claim to our mine?"

He leaned back in his chair and put one hand in his pocket and Jepson broke into a sweat. It is no easy task for a man to serve two masters, and Rimrock had exposed a heavy pistol.

"Well—why, really!" burst out Jepson in desperation, "I thought you had entrusted that to Mr. Lockhart. He told me so, distinctly, when I spoke of it in your absence, and naturally I let the matter drop."

"Yes, naturally," drawled Rimrock and as he reached for his handkerchief Jepson started and almost ran. "You're a great man, Jepson," he went on cuttingly, "a great little piece of mechanism. Now come through—what does Stoddard want?"

"Mr. Jones," began Jepson in his most earnest manner, "I give you my word of honor I don't know of what you are speaking."

"Oh, all right," answered Rimrock, "if that's the way you feel about it. You stand pat then, and pull the injured innocence? But you're not much good at it, Jepson; nothing like some people he has working for him. That fellow Buckbee is a corker. You're too honest, Jepson; you can't act the part, but Buckbee could do it to perfection. You should've been there to see him trim me, when I tried that little flier in Navajoa. Not an unkind word ever passed between us, and yet he busted me down to a dollar. He was a great fellow—you ought to know him—you could take a few leaves from his book.

"But here's the proposition as I look at it, Jepson," went on Rimrock with an ingratiating smile, "you're supposed to be strictly on the square. You're a solid, substantial, mining engineer, chiefly interested in holding your job. But on the side, as I happen to know, you're doing all this dirty work for Stoddard. Now—as general manager, if I did my duty, I ought to fire you on the spot; but I'm going to give you a chance. So I'll make you an offer and you can take it or leave it. If you'll recognize my authority as general manager and tell me what I'm entitled to know, I'll leave you where you are; but if you don't I'll not only fire you, but I'll run you out of town. Now how about it—ain't I the legal manager of this Company?"

"Why—why, yes, Mr. Jones," stammered Jepson abjectly, "as far as that goes, I'm sure no one will object. Of course it was understood, between Mr. Stoddard and me, when you went East a year ago——"

"Yes, all right, Mr. Jepson," interrupted Rimrock easily, "now how much money have we got?"

"Why, as to that," began Jepson his eyes opening wider, "there is quite a sum in the bank. Some three millions, altogether, but the most of that is set aside for the construction of the smelter."

"Ah, yes! Exactly! But that was set aside before the Old Juan claim was jumped. A smelter's no good now, if we're going to lose our mine—it would be just like making a present of it to Ike Bray."

"Oh, but my dear Mr. Jones!" burst out Jepson in dismay, "you surely wouldn't stop the smelter now?"

"Well, I don't know why not," answered Rimrock briefly. "Don't you think so now, yourself?"

He gazed at his superintendent with an unwinking smile and Jepson bowed his head.

"Oh, very well, sir," he said with a touch of servility, "but Mr. Stoddard will be greatly put out."

"You're working for me!" spoke up Rimrock sharply, "and we'll spend that money for something else."

"Spend it?"

"Yes, for lawyers! I hate the whole outfit—they're a bunch of lousy crooks—but we'll see if money don't talk. I'm going to hire, Jepson, every lawyer in this Territory that's competent to practice in the courts. Now look at it fairly, as a business proposition; would it be right to do anything else? Here's a copper property that you could sell to-morrow for a hundred million dollars gold, and the apex claim is jumped. The whole title to the mine is tied up right there—they can claim every shovelful you mine, and your mill and your smelter to boot. What kind of a business man would I be if I left this to McVicker and Ord? No, I'm going to send to San Francisco, and Denver, and Butte, and retain every mining attorney I can get. It's the only thing to do; but listen, my friend, I'm not going to tell anybody but you. So if Stoddard finds this out, or McVicker and Ord, or whatever blackleg lawyers Ike Bray has, I'll just know where to go. And one thing more—if I find you've split on me, I'll kill you like a Mexican's dog."

He rose up slowly and looked Jepson in the eye with glance that held him cold.

"Very well, sir," he said as he started to his feet. "And now, if you'll excuse me——"

"All right," nodded Rimrock and as he watched him pass out he gave way to a cynical smile.

"Good enough!" he said. "They can all go back on me, but there's one man I know I can trust!"



CHAPTER XXVI

A CHAPTER OF HATE

It was a source of real regret to Mary Fortune that she could not keep on hating Rimrock Jones. In the long, weary months that she had been away from him she had almost dismissed him from her mind. Then she had met him in New York and the old resentment had flashed up into the white heat of sudden scorn. She despised him for all that she read of his life in that encounter face to face—the drinking, the gambling, the cheap, false amusements, and the painted woman at his side. And when he returned, after ignoring her letters and allowing his mining claim to lapse, and resumed his fault-finding complaints she had put him back in his place.

But that was just it, the outburst had relieved her; she had lost her cherished hate. In the quiet of her room she remembered how he looked, so beaten and yet so bold. She remembered the blow that her words had given him when he had learned that his stock was doomed; and that greater blow when he saw even his equity placed in jeopardy by the jumping of the Old Juan. Had it not been a little cruel, to fly at him, after that? He was wrong, of course, but the occasion was great and his mind was on other things. Yet he had told her, and repeated it, that she had sold him out—and that she could never endure.

She remained resolutely away until late in the afternoon and then she returned to the office. It was her office, anyway, as much as his; and besides, she had left her ear-'phone. Not that she needed it, of course, but she must keep up appearances, although it seemed impossible to persuade people that she was no longer deaf. Even Rimrock had shouted in that old, maddening way the instant she did not reply. It was natural, of course, but with him at least she would like it the other way. She would like him to speak as he had spoken at first when he had come to her office alone. But those days were gone, along with eaves-dropping Andrew McBain, their first happiness and the golden dreams. All was gone—all but the accursed gold.

She found Rimrock alone in the silent office, running through filing cases in blundering haste.

"What are you looking for?" she asked demurely and as he noticed her amusement he smiled.

"Examining the books," he answered grimly. "Say, how much money have we got?"

"Oh, don't look there!" she said, pushing the filing drawer back into its case. "Here, I'll give you our last monthly statement, brought down to January first."

She ran through the files and with a practised hand drew out the paper he wanted.

"Much obliged," he mumbled and as he glanced at the total he blinked and his eyes opened up. "All right!" he said, "that will last me a while. I might as well spend it, don't you think? I'm General Manager, as long as I last, and it will take money to beat this man Bray."

"What, have you taken charge of the legal part of it? I thought that was left to McVicker and Ord?"

"McVicker and Ord! They're a couple of mutton-heads. Why, Bray has got Cummins and Ford. I know they're good, because they beat me out of the Gunsight; but they're nothing to the men I've retained. I've telegraphed money to ten attorneys already—the best in the United States, so Ben Birchett, my Geronimo lawyer, says—and they'll be here within a few days. It'll be a galaxy of the finest legal talent that ever took a case in Arizona. Ben told me frankly when I called him up Long Distance that we've got a very weak case; but you wait, they'll frame something up. We're fighting Stoddard, there isn't a doubt about it; but we're spending his money, too."

He met her gaze with a disarming grin and the reproaches died on her lips. After all, it was his right, after what he had suffered, to have this one, final fling. He was nothing but a child, a great overgrown boy, and it was fitting he should have his jest. And between him and Stoddard, the ice-cold lightning-calculator who kept count of every cent, there was really little to choose. Only Rimrock, of course, was human. He was a drunken and faithless gambler; a reckless, fighting animal; a crude, thoughtless barbarian; but his failings were those of a man. He didn't take advantage of everybody—it was only his enemies that he raided.

"Yes, you're spending his money," she conceded pleasantly, "but part of it is yours and—mine."

"Well, all right, then," he said after a moment's thought, "I'll show you where it's gone."

"No, I didn't mean that," she said, "my point is, don't throw it away. If we lose this suit, and I think we will, you'll need something to make a fresh start."

"Nope, it's dead loss to me, whichever way you figure it—if I don't spend it, it goes to Stoddard. He won't have any mercy on me, even if we win this case. My stock is gone when the ninety days are up. The most I can hope is to beat him on this suit. That will make my Tecolote stock more valuable and maybe I can borrow the money to pay off the debt at the bank. But I'm busted, right now; I can see my finish. It's just a question of the epitaph the boys will put over my grave, and I want that to be: 'He did his damnedest!' Then I'll get out of town with whatever I have left and begin all over again, down in Mexico."

"Oh, won't that be fine!" she cried enthusiastically, but Rimrock looked at her dubiously.

"What, to lose all my money?"

"No, to begin all over again. To get away from this trickery and dishonesty and the jealousy that spoils all your friends; and start all over again, get back to real work and build up another success!"

"You sure make it sound attractive," he answered glumly, "but there are some people who hate to lose. That's me—but cheer up, I haven't lost yet. You wait till I hire a few expert geologists and I'll prove that the Old Juan doesn't apex anything. No, absolutely nothing; not even the ore that's under it. I've got a couple of them coming, now."

She looked at him frowning.

"I don't like you that way," she said impatiently. "It sounds low and cheap, and I don't like it. And I hope when it's over and you've lost your case that you'll see that this lawlessness doesn't pay. Of course it's too late now, because I know you're going to do it, but I do want you to know how I feel. I liked you best when you were a poor, hard-handed prospector without a dollar to your name; but what happiness has it brought you—or me, either, for that matter—all this money we've got from the mine?"

"Well," began Rimrock; and then he stopped and pondered. "Say, it hasn't brought us much, after all, now has it? I've helped out a few friends, but seems like they've all gone back on me. But what makes you think I'll lose?"

He was watching her furtively, but she sensed his purpose and as quickly was on her guard.

"Because you're wrong," she said. "You haven't a case. You know you let your title lapse and now you're trying to evade the law. You're wrong, in the first place; and in the second place you're trying to be dishonest. I hope you do lose it."

"Uhrr! Thanks!" he jeered. "The same to you! If I lose, I guess you lose, too."

"I don't care," she persisted, "I want you to lose—and after it's all over, I'll tell you something."

She smiled in a mysterious and tantalizing way, but Rimrock's face never changed.

"You'd better tell me now, while you've got the chance," he suggested sitting down by her desk. "And by the way, how come you're hearing so well?"

"Oh, that reminds me!" she cried laughing gayly and picked up her ear-'phone. "What was that you said?" she asked with mock anxiety, slipping the headband over her head, and Rimrock looked at her in surprise.

"By grab!" he exclaimed, "I believe you can hear! What do you carry that thing around for?"

She twitched it off and gazed at him again with a triumphant but baffling smile.

"Yes, I can hear," she admitted quietly, "but I'll have to ask you not to tell. Why, Mr. Jepson and some of these people fairly shout when they speak to me now."

She smiled again in such a cryptic manner that Rimrock became suddenly aroused.

"Say, what's going on?" he cried, all excitement, "have you been listening in on their schemes?"

"Why, Mr. Jones!" she exclaimed reproachfully but still with a twinkle in her eye; and Rimrock leaned forward eagerly.

"Yes, that's my name," he answered, "go ahead and tell me what you know."

"No, you wouldn't put it to the best of purposes—but hold this over your ear." She held up the attachment to his ear and, as she ran up the dial, she whispered:

"Do you think you could hear through a wall?"

"You bet!" replied Rimrock and as she took it away he gave her a searching glance. "I wonder," he said, "if you're as innocent as you look." And Mary broke down and laughed.

"I wonder," she observed, but when he questioned her further she only shook her head.

"No, indeed," she said, "I won't tell you anything—but after you lose, come around."

"No, but look!" he urged. "If I lose, you lose. Come through and tell me now."

"You called me a crook," she answered spitefully, "you said I had sold you out! Do you think I will tell you, after that? No, you're so smart, go ahead—Spend your money! Hire a lot of lawyers and experts! You think I sold you out to Stoddard? Well, go ahead—you try to buy me! No, I'm going to show you, Mr. Rimrock Jones, that I have never sold out to anybody—that I can't be bought, nor sold. You need that lesson more than you need the money that you are wasting in vice and fraud."

She ended, panting with the anger that swept over her, and Rimrock thrust out his chin.

"Huh! Vice and fraud!" he repeated scornfully, "you certainly don't hunt for words. Is it vice and fraud to hire lawyers and experts and try to win back my own mine? What do you want me to do—go and kow-tow to Stoddard and ask him to please step on my neck?"

"No, I want you to do what you're going to do—spend the Company's money, and lose. That money is part mine, but I'll be glad to part with it if it will cure you of being such a fool."

They faced each other, each heated and angry, and then he showed his teeth in a smile.

"I know what's the matter," he said at last, "you're jealous of Mrs. Hardesty!"

She checked the denial that leapt to her lips to search for a more fitting retort.

"You flatter yourself," she said, smiling thinly, "but you do not flatter me."

"Yeah, 'vice and crime.' That shows where you good people fall down. I suppose you think that she was an awful disreputable woman! Well, she wasn't; she was just another of Stoddard's stool-pigeons that he uses to work suckers like me. She got me back there and helped him bleed me and then she kissed me good-bye—so!"

He made the motion of slamming a door and his eyes turned dark with fury.

"She had a good line of talk herself," he sneered, "and her heart was as black as that book!"

He pointed to a book that was black indeed but Mary said never a word. This was news to her, and perhaps it was balm that would in time cure a wound in her heart, but now it rankled deep.

"I think," she said at last, "the most pitiable spectacle in the world is you, Mr. Rimrock Jones. You try to buy friends, as if they were commodities, and you try to buy them wholesale. You set up the drinks and try to buy the whole town, but what is the result of it all? Why, you simply attract a lot of leeches and bloodsuckers whose sole purpose is to get your money. And then, when you finally become disillusioned, you class them all together. You don't deserve any friends!"

"Well, maybe not!" he answered truculently, "but who's got the most, right now? You or me? Look at Old Hassayamp Hicks, and Woo Chong—and L. W.!"

A swift, almost instantaneous, change swept over her sensitive face and then she closed down her lips; yet Rimrock was quick enough to see it.

"What's the matter?" he challenged. "What's the matter with L. W.? Ain't he stood by me like a rock? He's in the hospital right now with a busted arm, and I won't hear a word against him. No, my troubles have been with women."

A swifter spasm, almost ugly in its rage, came over Mary Fortune's lips; and then she shut them down again.

"Yes," she said with a sarcastic smile, "I've heard women say the same about men."

"Oh, you've always got some come-back," he went on blusteringly, "but I notice you don't say nothing against L. W. Now there was a man who had done me dirt—he sold me out, on the Gunsight—but when I trusted him and treated him white L. W. became my best friend. He stood right up with me against Andy McBain and that bunch of hired gun-fighters he had; and he'd lay down his life for me, to-morrow. And yet he just worships money! He thinks more of a dollar than I do of a million, but could Stoddard buy him out? Not on your life—he voted for the dividend! But where was my lady friend at?"

He glared at her insultingly and, torn by that great passion that comes from devotion misprized and sacrifice rewarded with scorn, she leapt up to hurl back the truth. But a vision rose before her, the picture of L. W. sobbing and bleeding, his arm flapping beside him, striving vainly to retrieve his treachery; and the words did not pass her lips.

"I'm not your friend, if that's what you mean," she answered with withering scorn. "I'm against you, from this moment, on."

"Well, let it ride, then," he responded carelessly, and as she swept from the room, he smiled.



CHAPTER XVIII

THE SHOW-DOWN

For the few brief weeks before the great trial the office was swarming with men. There were high-priced lawyers and geologists of renown and experts on every phase of the suit, and in the midst of them sat Rimrock Jones. He wore his big black hat that had cost him a hundred dollars—including the hat-check tips at the Waldorf—and his pistol was always at his hip. Every step of their case was carefully framed up in the long councils that took place, but at the end Rimrock lost his nerve. For the first time in his life, and with all eyes upon him, he weakened and lowered his proud head. He had a hunch he would lose.

For all those weeks he had been haunted by a presence that always flitted out of his way; but now she was there, in the crowded court-room, and she greeted him with a slow, mirthless smile. It was Mary Fortune and he remembered all too well that time when she had told him he would lose. She had said he would lose because he had no case, and because he used money instead; but he knew from that smile she had other reasons for pronouncing his doom in advance. He had lawyers hired who told him, to the contrary, that he had a very good case—and Stoddard had spent money, too. Not openly, of course, but through his attorneys; but that was customary, it was always done. No, behind all her professions of respect for the judiciary and of worship for the law, she must know that the right sometimes failed. But behind that smile there was the absolute certainty that in some way he was certain to lose.

He met her glance as he came into the court-room surrounded by a troop of his friends, surrounded by lawyers and mining experts and geologists who professed to see through the earth, and before her gaze he halted and blenched. There was another person there who regarded him coldly with a glance like a rapier thrust; but it was not of Stoddard he was afraid. It was of Mary Fortune, who had come out against him and who could hear through walls with her 'phone. What she knew might have helped him, but she was against him now—and she had told him in advance that he would lose.

As Rimrock sat thinking, his eyes cast down and his mind far back in the past, a great blow was struck by the bailiff's mallet and the crowd rose up to its feet. A stern-faced judge, robed in the black cloak of his office, stepped out through the curtains behind the bench and as Rimrock stared the bailiff beckoned him sharply and he scrambled to his feet with the rest.

"Oyez! Oyez! Oyez!" cried the bailiff in the words that echoed of the past. "The United States District Court is now in session!"

He struck again as the judge took his seat and Rimrock sank down into his chair. But he had stood in respect to the majesty of the law and it was then that his hunch came back. For this was no appeal to an elected judge or the easily swayed emotions of a jury; it was an appeal to the cold, passionless mind of a man who considered nothing but the law.

Ike Bray was there, looking pinched and scared, and the two guards who had witnessed his relocation, and they testified to the facts. In vain Rimrock's lawyers orated and thundered or artfully framed up their long questions; it took days to do it, but when the testimony was all in it was apparent that Ike Bray's claim would hold. But this was only the beginning of the battle, the skirmish to feel out the ground; and now the defense brought up its big guns. One after the other they put experts on the stand to testify to the geology of the Tecolote; but Cummins and Ford produced others as eminent who testified to the opposite effect. So the battle raged until the wearied judge limited the profitless discussion to one more day, and then Cummins and Ford launched their bombshell.

"Your Honor," began Cummins as he rose with a great document. "I should like to introduce as evidence this report, which unfortunately has only just come to hand. As Your Honor has intimated the testimony of hired experts is always open to suspicion of bias, and especially where great interests are at stake; but I am able to offer for the information of the Court a document both impartial and thorough. It is the combined reports of three practical geologists employed by the Tecolote Company itself, though at a time preceding this suit and intended solely for the purposes of exploration. As Your Honor will observe, although the reports were made independently and under orders to seek nothing but the facts, they agree substantially in this: that, within an extension of its end-lines, the Old Juan claim is the true apex of the entire Tecolote ore body."

He handed over the report and sat down in triumph, while Rimrock's lawyers all objected at once. The argument upon admitting to evidence this secret but authoritative report, consumed the greater part of the day; and at the end the plaintiff rested his case. Throughout the din of words, the verbal clashes, the long and wearisome citing of authorities and the brief "Overruled!" of the judge, Rimrock Jones sat sullen and downcast; and at the end he got up and went out. No one followed to cheer or console him—it was his confession of utter defeat. And the following day, when the Court convened, a verdict was rendered for the plaintiff. The lawyers and experts took their checks and departed and Rimrock Jones went home.

He went back to Gunsight where he had seen his greatest triumphs and his days of blackest defeat and waited for Stoddard to strike. It was all over now—all over but the details and the final acceptance of terms—and, while he waited, he packed up to go. No one knew better than Rimrock himself that it was right and fitting to move on. Old hatreds and animosities, old heart-burnings and recriminations, would make Gunsight a hell-spot for him, and thwart him at every move. It was best to go on to Mexico. Even Hassayamp and L. W. agreed in this, although L. W. insisted upon staking him and declared it was all his own fault. But Mary Fortune, whether she gloried in his fall or pitied him for his great loss, kept discreetly out of his way.

She faced him the first time at the special meeting when Stoddard came to lay down his terms. As a legal fiction, a technical subterfuge, he still claimed to have bought up Bray's claim; but no one was deceived as to his intent. If he had bought Bray out it was not for the Company, but for Whitney H. Stoddard personally; and with no intention of compromising. He came in briskly, his face stern and forbidding, his eyes burning with ill-suppressed fire; and he sat down impatiently to wait. Then as Rimrock slouched in and called the meeting to order Stoddard picked up a piece of blank paper and began to tear it into long, slender shreds.

"Well, to get down to business," said Rimrock at last after the various reports had been read, "we have come here, I take it, for a purpose."

He raised his eyes and met Stoddard's defiantly, but Mary looked away.

"Yes, we have," answered Stoddard with business-like directness, "I have a proposition to make. As I suppose you both know I have bought up the claim of Mr. Bray, as decided by the court. That claim, of course, practically invalidates your stock since it takes away possession of the mine; but I am willing to make you a generous offer. Our undivided profits—minus the amount, of course, that our General Manager has squandered on his defense—will be shared among us, pro rata. This will be in cash, and in consideration of the payment, I shall expect you to turn in your stock."

"What? For nothing?" cried Mary; but Rimrock did not flinch though his face became set with rage.

"It can hardly be called nothing," replied Stoddard severely, "when your own share comes to over two hundred thousand dollars. And as for Mr. Jones, he understands very well that I can claim every dollar he has."

"Well, that may be so, since you have a claim against him, but my stock is unencumbered. And since my share of the profits is in no sense a payment I shall decline to turn in my stock."

"Very well," answered Stoddard, his voice low and colorless, "I shall turn the matter over to my attorney and refuse to vote the dividend."

"Ah, I see," she murmured and glanced at Rimrock who answered with a curl of the lip.

"Mr. President," she said, "I move that the money at present in our treasury be set aside as a profit and divided among the stockholders pro rata."

"Just a moment!" warned Stoddard as Rimrock seemed about to fall in with her, "you can never collect that money. I have notified Mr. Lockhart, the treasurer of our Company, that I will hold him personally responsible for every dollar he pays out, without my official O.K. You understand what that means. Within less than a month, through my suit now in court, I can claim every share of Mr. Jones' stock. Its value, in law, has been reduced to nothing, outside of this undivided profit; and that I offer you now. If you refuse I shall get judgment, claim his entire share of the profits, and take possession of the whole Tecolote properties by right of the Old Juan decision. I advise you to accept my first offer."

"All right," spoke up Rimrock, "I knew you'd rob me. Write out the check and I'll be on my way."

"No, indeed!" cried Mary, "don't you let him fleece you! I've got something to say here, myself!"

"Well, say it to him, then," returned Rimrock, wearily, "I'm sick and disgusted with the whole business."

"Yes, naturally," observed Stoddard, reaching into his pocket and deliberately pulling out his checkbook. "Most people are, by the time I get through with them; and your case is no exception. You made the mistake of trying to oppose me."

"I made the mistake," returned Rimrock hoarsely, "of trusting a lot of crooks. But I never trusted you—don't you think it for a minute—you've got n. g. written all over you."

"Another remark like that," said Stoddard freezingly, "and I'll put my checkbook away."

"You do it," warned Rimrock without changing his position, "and I'll blow the top of your head off."

Stoddard looked at him keenly, then uncapped his pen and proceeded to fill out the stub. For a moment there was silence, broken by the soft scratching of the pen, and then Mary Fortune stood up.

"I know it is customary," she said in suppressed tones, "for men to settle everything themselves; but you, Mr. Stoddard, and you, Mr. Jones, are going to listen to me. I have put up long enough with your high-handed methods; but now, will you kindly look at that?"

She laid a paper on the table before Stoddard and stood back to watch the effect, but Rimrock only grunted contemptuously.

"Aw, fill out my check!" he said impatiently, but Stoddard was staring at the paper.

"Why, what is this? Where did you get this, Miss Fortune? I don't think I quite understand."

"No, naturally! You overlooked the fact that a woman can jump claims, too. That is a recorded copy of my re-location of the Old Juan claim, at twelve-fifty-one, on January first. Your drunken Ike Bray came along at one-thirty and tacked his notice over mine. And now I must thank you, gentlemen, both of you, for your kind efforts in my behalf. By spending your money on this expensive lawsuit you have proved my title to the Tecolote Mine."

She sat down, smiling, and as Stoddard looked again at the paper his drawn face went suddenly white. He laid it down and with startled eyes glanced fearfully at those two. Would they stand together? Did she realize her advantage? Could he buy her off—and for how much? A hundred swift questions flashed through his mind, and then Rimrock reached over for the notice. He gazed at it quietly and then, looking at Mary, he gave way to a cynical smile.

"Could you hear through a wall?" he enquired enigmatically, and Stoddard snapped his fingers in vexation.

"Ah, I see," he observed, "not so deaf as you seem. Well, Miss Fortune, may I see you alone?"

"You may not!" she answered. "I might show you some pity, though you don't deserve it; so, knowing Mr. Jones as I do, I will leave the decision to him."

She glanced at Rimrock with a quick, radiant smile that revealed more than she knew of her heart; but his face had suddenly gone grim.

"Take him out and kill him," he advised vindictively. "That's all the advice I'll give."

"No, I don't believe in that," she answered sweetly, "but perhaps our decision can wait."

"Well, you needn't wait for me," replied Rimrock ungraciously, "because I'm through, for good and all. The first man that gives me a check for my stock——"

Whitney Stoddard reached swiftly for his checkbook and pen, but she stopped him with a warning look.

"No, there'll be nothing like that," she answered firmly. "But I moved once that we declare a dividend."

"Second the motion," murmured Stoddard resignedly; and Rimrock, too, voted: "Ay!"

Then he rose up sullenly and gazed at them both with a savage, insulting glare.

"You can keep your old mine," he said to Mary. "I'm going to beat it to Mexico!"

He started for the door and they looked after him, startled, but at the doorway he stopped and turned back.

"Where do I get that check?" he asked and after a silence Mary answered:

"From Mr. Lockhart."

"Good!" he muttered and closed the door quietly, whereat Stoddard began instantly to talk. He might have talked a long time, or only a few moments; and then Mary began to hear.

"What's that?" she asked and Stoddard repeated what he considered a very generous offer.

"Mr. Stoddard," she cried with almost tearful vehemence, "there's only one condition on which I'll even think of giving you back your mine, and that is that Rimrock shall run it. Mr. Jepson must be fired, Mr. Jones must have full charge, and all this chicanery must stop; but if Rimrock goes away without taking his mine I'll—I'll make you wish he hadn't!"

She snatched up her papers and ran out of the room and Stoddard caught up the 'phone.

"Give me Mr. Lockhart!" he said. "Yes, Lockhart, the banker. Mr. Lockhart? This is Mr. Stoddard. If you pay Henry Jones a cent of that money I'll break you, so help me God. And listen! If you value your rating with Bradstreet, you make him apologize to that girl!"



CHAPTER XXVIII

A GIFT

Mary Fortune was pacing up and down her room in something very like a rage. Her trunk, half-packed, stood against the wall and her pictures lay face down on the bed, and she hovered between laughter and tears. It seemed as if every evil passion in her nature had been stirred up by this desperate affray and in the fierce swirl of emotions her joy in her victory was strangely mingled with rage at Rimrock. After scheming for months to prove her superiority, and arranging every possible detail, she had been cut down in her pride and seen her triumph turned to nothing by his sudden decision to sulk. Just at the very moment when she was preparing to be gracious and give him his precious mine back he had balked like a mule and without sense or reason stormed off on his way to Old Mexico.

She returned to her packing and was brushing away a tear that had fallen somehow on a fresh waist when there was a trampling in the lobby and she heard a great voice wafted up from the corridor below.

"Come on!" it thundered like the hoarse rumbling of a bull. "Come on, I tell ye; or you'll tear my arm loose where it's knit. You dad-burned cub, if I had two good hands—— Say, come on; ain't you got a lick of sense?"

It was L. W. Lockhart and, from the noise in the hallway, he seemed to be coming towards her door. She listened and at a single rebellious grunt from Rimrock she flew to the mirror and removed the last trace of the tear. He was bringing Rimrock for some strange purpose, and—yes, he was knocking at her door. She opened it on a struggle, Rimrock begging and threatening and trying gingerly to break away; and iron-jawed L. W. with his sling flying wildly, holding him back with his puffed-up game hand.

"Excuse me, Miss Fortune," panted L. W. brokenly, "but I just had to fetch this unmannerly brute back. He can't come, like he did, to my place of business and speak like he did about you. You're the best friend, by Gregory, that Rimrock Jones ever had; and I'll say that for myself, Miss, too. You've been a good friend to me and I'll never forgit it, but Rim is jest naturally a fool!"

He stopped for breath and Rimrock set back sullenly without raising his eyes from the floor.

"Now!" said L. W. as he winced at the pull, "you can decide what you're going to do. Are you going to bust my arm, where I got it shot in two jest by fighting Ike Bray for your mine; or are you going to stan' up here and apologize like a gentleman for saying Miss Fortune sold you out."

"I'll apologize, doggone you," answered Rimrock between his teeth, "if you'll shut up and let go my coat."

"Well, all right, then," sighed L. W. as he cradled his injured arm, "I'll wait for you at the head of the stairs."

"You do and I'll kill you," returned Rimrock savagely. "Go on, now—and don't you come back."

He waved a threatening hand at the belligerent L. W. and watched him till he passed down the stairs. Then, turning to Mary, he set his mouth and looked her over grimly.

"Well, I apologize," he said. "Does that make you feel better? And now I hope I may go."

"No, you can't," she replied. "Now it's my turn to apologize. And I hope you have good luck."

She held out her hand and he glanced at it questioningly, then reached out and took it in his.

"I mean it," he said with sudden earnestness. "I sure-enough apologize. I'm sorry for what I done."

She patted his hand where it still held hers fast and bowed her head to keep back the tears.

"It's all right," she said. "We could never be happy. It's better to have you go."

"I'll come back!" he said with impulsive gladness. "I'll come back—if you say the word."

"Well—come back, then," she answered. "But not to quarrel; not to haggle, and backbite and scold! Oh, it makes me so ashamed! I used to be reasonable; but it doesn't seem possible now. I can't even save your mine, that you killed a man over and went to prison to defend; I can't even do that but in such a hateful way that you won't accept it as a gift."

"Aw, you take it too hard," protested Rimrock feebly. "Say, come on over here and sit down." He led her reluctantly to the ill-fated balcony, but at the divan she balked and drew back.

"No, not there," she said with a little shudder, and turned back and sank down in a chair.

"Well, all right," agreed Rimrock, but as he drew up another he suddenly divined her thought. "Say, I apologize again," he went on abjectly, "for that time—you know—when she came. I was a Mexican's dog, there's no use talking, but—oh, well, I've been a damned fool."

"You mustn't swear so much," she corrected him gently; and then they gazed at each other in silence. "It's strange," she murmured, "how we hated each other. Almost from the first day, it seems. But no, not the first! I liked you then, Rimrock; better than I ever will again. You were so clean and strong then, so full of enthusiasm; but now—well, I wish you were poor."

"Ain't I broke?" he demanded and she looked at him sadly as she slowly shook her head.

"No, you're rich," she said. "I'm going to give you back the mine, and then I'm going away."

"But I don't want it!" he said. "Didn't I tell you to keep it? Well, I meant it—every word."

"Ah, yes," she sighed. "You told me—I know—but to-morrow is another day. You'll change your mind then, the way you always do. You see, I know you now."

"You do not!" he denied. "I don't change my mind. I stick to one idea for years. But there's something about you—I don't know what it is—that makes me a natural-born fool."

"Yes. I make you mad," she answered regretfully. "And then you will say and do anything. But now about the mine. I left Mr. Stoddard in the office just biting his fingers with anxiety."

"Well, let him bite 'em," returned Rimrock spitefully, "I hope he eats 'em off. If it hadn't been for him, and that Mrs. Hardesty, and all the other crooks he set on, we'd be friends to-day—and I'd rather have that than all the mines in the world."

"Oh, would you, Rimrock?" she questioned softly. "But no, we could never agree. It isn't the money that has come between us. We blame it, but it's really our own selves. You will gamble and drink, it's your nature to do it, and that I could never forgive. I like you, Rimrock, I'm afraid I can't help it, but I doubt if we can even be friends."

"Aw, now listen!" he pleaded. "It was you drove me to drink. A man can get over those things. But not when he's put in the wrong in everything—he's got to win, sometimes."

"Yes, but, Rimrock, there has never been a time when you couldn't have had everything you wanted—if you wouldn't always be fighting for it. But when you distrust me and go against me and say that I've sold you out, how can a woman do anything but fight you back? And I will—I'll never give up! As long as you think I'm not as good as you are—just as smart, just as honest, just as brave—I'll never give in an inch. But there has never been a time during all our trouble, when, if you'd only listened and trusted me, I wouldn't have helped you out. Now take that letter that I wrote you in New York—I warned you they would jump your claim! But when you didn't come and complete your assessment work, I went up and jumped it myself. I got this great scar——" she thrust back her hair—"coming down the Old Juan that night. But I did it for you, I didn't do it for myself, and then—you wouldn't take back your mine!"

She bowed her head to brush away the tears and Rimrock stared and smiled at a thought.

"Well, I'll take it now," he said consolingly. "But I didn't understand. I didn't know that you want to give things—I thought you were on the make."

"Well, I was!" she declared, "I wanted all my rights—and I want them all to-day. But if you'd trust me, Rimrock, if you'd always depend on me to do the best that a woman can I'd—I'd give you anything—but you always fight me. You always try to take!"

"Well, I won't any more," replied Rimrock penitently, yet with a masterful look in his eyes. "But you'll have to make it easy, at first."

"Why, what do you mean?" she asked rather tremulously. And then she blushed and glanced swiftly about.

"All right, Rimrock," she whispered as she took both his hands and then slipped into his arms. "I'll give you anything—if you'll only let me. But remember, I do it myself."



CHAPTER XXIX

RIMROCK DOES IT HIMSELF

"Now, let's talk reason," said Rimrock at last as he put away her hands. "Let's be reasonable—I don't know where I'm at. Say, where have I been and what have I been up to? Am I the same feller that blowed into town on the blind baggage, or is this all a part of the dream?"

"It's a part of the dream," answered Mary with a sigh. "But if you help, Rimrock, it may come true."

"Do you mean it?" he demanded. "Well, I guess you must or you wouldn't give me a kiss like that. Say, you think a lot of me, now don't you, Little Spitfire? I believe you'd go through hell for me."

"No, I wouldn't," she replied. "That's just where I draw the line—because you'd be going through hell, too. You're a good man, Rimrock—you've got a good heart—but you're a drunken, fighting brute."

"Hmm!" shrilled Rimrock, "say, that don't sound very nice after what you said a minute ago."

"We're talking reason, now," said Mary, smiling wanly, "I was excited a minute ago."

"Well, get excited again," suggested Rimrock, but she pushed his hands away.

"No," she said, "I kissed you once because—well, because I liked you and—and to show that I forgive what you've done. But a woman must consider what love might mean and I'll never marry a drunkard. I know women who have and they all regretted it—it took all the sweetness out of life. A woman expects so much—so much of tenderness and sympathy and gentleness and consideration—and a drunken man is a brute. You know it, because you've been there; and, oh, you don't know how I'd hate you if you ever came back to me drunk! I'd leave you—I'd never consent for a minute to so much as touch your hand—and so it's better just to be friends."

She sighed and hurried on to a subject less unpleasant.

"Now, there's the matter of that claim. You know I hold title to the Old Juan and it gives me control of the mine. Even Stoddard acknowledges it, although he'll try to get around it; and if we press him he'll take it to the courts. But now listen, Rimrock, this is a matter of importance and I want you to help me out. I want you to attend to getting my discovery work before the ninety days has expired. Then we'll draw up a complete and careful agreement of just what we want at the mine and Whitney H. Stoddard, if I know anything about him, will be only too glad to sign it. I told him before I left him that this chicanery must cease and that you must be given back your mine. I told him you must run it, and that Jepson must be fired—but Rimrock, there's one thing more."

"What's that?" enquired Rimrock rousing up from his abstraction and she smiled and patted his hand.

"You mustn't fight him," she suggested coaxingly. "It interferes with the work."

"Fight who?" he demanded and then he snorted. "What, me make friends with Stoddard? Why, it's that crooked hound that's at the bottom of all this. He's the man that's made all the trouble. Why, we were doing fine, girl; we were regular pardners and I wasn't drinking a drop. I was trying to make good and show you how I loved you when he butted in on the game. He saw he couldn't beat us as long as we stood together and so he sent out that damnable Mrs. Hardesty. He hired her on purpose and she worked me for a sucker by feeding me up with big words. She told me I was a wonder, and a world-beater for a gambler, and then—well, you know the rest. I went back to New York and they trimmed me right, and if it wasn't for you I'd be broke. No, I'll never forget what you did for me, Mary; and I'll never forget what he did, either!"

"No, I hope you won't," she said, winking fast, "because that's what's ruined your life. He can always whip you when it comes to business, because you fight in the open and he never shows his hand. And he's absolutely unscrupulous—he'd think no more of ruining our happiness than—than you do, when you're fighting mad. Oh, if you knew how I suffered during all those long months when you were stock-gambling and going around with—her."

"Aw, now, Mary," he soothed, wiping away the sweat from his brow; and then he took her into his arms. "Now, don't cry," he said, "because I went back there to look for you—I paid out thousands of dollars for detectives. And when I saw you that time, when you came down the stairway in that opera house back in New York, I never went near her again. I quit her at the door and had detectives out everywhere; but, you went away, you never gave me a chance!"

"Well," she sobbed, "we all make mistakes, but—but I was so ashamed, to be jealous of her. Couldn't you see what she was? Couldn't you tell that type of woman? Oh, Rimrock, it was perfectly awful! Everybody that saw you, every woman that looked at her, must have—oh, I just can't bear to think about it!"

"My God!" groaned Rimrock; and then he was silent, looking sober-eyed away into space. It came over him at last what this woman had borne from him and yet she had been faithful to the end. She had even befriended him after he had accused her of treachery, but she had reserved the privilege of hating him. Perhaps that was the woman of it, he did not know; if so, he had never observed it before. Or perhaps—he straightened up and drew her closer—perhaps she was the One Woman in the world! Perhaps she was the only woman he would ever know who would love him for himself, and take no thought for his money. She had loved him when he was poor——

"Say," he said in a far-away voice, "do you remember when I saw you that first time? You looked mighty good to me then. And I was so ragged, and wild and woolly, but you sure came through with the roll. The whole roll, at that. Say, I ain't going to forget that—Rimrock Jones never forgets a friend. Some time when you ain't looking for it I'm going to do something for you like giving that roll to me. Something hard, you understand; something that will take the hide off of me like parting with the savings of a lifetime. But I haven't got anything to give."

"Yes, you have," she said, "and it will hurt just the same. It is something you had on then."

"Huh, I didn't have hardly anything but my clothes and my gun. You don't mean——"

"Yes, I mean the gun."

"Oh!" he said, and fell into silence while she watched him from beneath her long lashes. He reached back ruefully and drew out his pistol and twirled the cylinder with his thumb.

"That's a fine old gun," he said at last. "I sure have carried it many a mile."

"Yes," she answered, and sat there, waiting, and at last he met her eyes.

"What's the idea?" he asked, but his tone was resentful—he knew what was in her mind.

"I just want it," she said. "More than anything else. And you must never get another one."

"How'm I going to protect myself?" he demanded hotly. "How'm I going to protect my claims? If it wasn't for that gun, where'd the Old Juan be to-day?"

"Well, where is it?" she asked and smiled.

"Why——"

"Why, you lost it," she supplied. "And I won it," she added. "It stands in my name to-day."

"Yes, but Andrew McBain——"

"Was he any smarter than Stoddard? Well, I didn't need any gun."

"Yes, but look who you are!" observed Rimrock sarcastically and balanced the old gun in his hand.

"Well, there we are," she remarked at last. "Right back where we started from."

"Where's that?" he enquired.

"Back to our first quarrel," she sighed. "A woman never forgets it. It's different, I suppose, with a man."

"Yes, I reckon it is," he agreed despondently. "We try to forget our troubles."

"Does it help any to get drunk?" she asked impersonally and he saw where the conversation had swung. It had veered back again to his merits as a married man and the answer had come from his own lips. He knew too well that look in her eye, that polite and polished calm. Mary Fortune was not strong for scenes. She just made up her mind and then all the devils in hell could not sway her from her purpose. And she had rejected him as a gun-fighter and a drunkard.

"Here! Now!" he exclaimed, rising to his feet in alarm. "Now here, don't get me wrong! Say, I'd give my heart's blood, just for one more kiss—do you think I'll hold out on this gun? Here, take it, girl, and if I ever drink a drop I want you to shoot me dead!"

He handed over the gun and she took it solemnly, but with a twinkle far back in her eyes.

"I couldn't do that," she said, "because I love you too much, Rimrock."

"And another thing," he went on, smiling grimly as she kissed him.

"What's that?" she asked.

"Well, I'll give you 'most anything, if you'll only ask for it; but remember, I do it myself."



THE END