"Well," said Morgan, as he rose slowly, "don't think I don't appreciate your kindness, for I do. You've heard me say that I didn't believe in honor in anybody; I guess I'll have to take that back, for if there is such a thing as honor, you've got it. I don't know how it is," he said, with a heavy sigh, then added slowly, "I guess you've been raised different somehow, from most of us out here. The Lord knows how I was raised."

He started a few steps down the road, hesitated, and came back.

"Houston, there's one thing I want to say to you, for you've been good to me, that's this; look out for Haight; he's no friend of yours, and I guess you're sharp enough to know it, but maybe you don't know what a sneaking, cowardly cur he is; look out for him!"

"Thank you, Morgan, I will."

"He ain't like me," he continued, "if I don't like anybody I let 'em know it, and fight 'em fair and square; you can tell that by the way I bucked up against you, when you first came here," and he smiled at the recollection, the first time he had smiled in the whole conversation.

"Morgan," said Houston, "I've been sorry for that a good many times since; if I had known about you then what you have since told me, I never would have been so severe in my judgment of you."

"Oh, that was all right," he answered, "it did me good; I didn't like you very well at first, but I've always had a liking for you ever since. Well, so long!" and with a faint smile, Morgan went on his way.

Houston stood watching him for a few moments, then turned back in the direction of the house, little thinking how, or where, they would meet again.



CHAPTER XXXI.

The next morning dawned fair and cloudless, giving promise of one of those royal days, so frequent in the almost perfect climate of the higher altitudes.

Long before noon the heat would be intense, but in the early morning there was wafted down from the mountain side, where the pines were nodding and whispering so mysteriously, a cool, exhilarating breeze, which kissed the surface of the azure lake, sleeping so peacefully, and, awakening immediately into smiles, it lay rippling and dimpling with laughter in the sunlight.

The vines, transplanted by Miss Gladden and Lyle, under their fostering care, had transformed the little porch into a bower of beauty. Here stood Van Dorn, his fair, almost feminine face flushed with pleasure, and his blue eyes sparkling, as the light breeze played with the auburn curls clustering about his forehead, and he looked forth on the beauty of the scene.

"Ah—h!" he exclaimed, drawing a long breath, "isn't this refreshing after the stifling heat and dust of the journey out here? Isn't it glorious?"

"It is," responded Houston, "this is one of the mornings when it is a joy just simply to live and breathe."

Houston was fired with new ambition that morning; he would no longer have to work alone, keeping his anxieties and doubts, his plans and discoveries alike to himself; from henceforth he would have companionship, counsel and assistance, and he felt a new interest and enthusiasm.

Immediately after breakfast, the two set forth upon their first day's work. Going first to the mills, Houston secured the services of two or three men who could be spared from the ordinary work, to assist Van Dorn in making preparations for the erection of the machinery; then he left for his early visit to the mines.

It was nearly ten o'clock when, having finished his round of duties at the mines, and coming up to the surface from the cool, underground workings, he found the heat almost unendurable, and strolled over to the mills, to see how Van Dorn was progressing. The latter did not seem averse to stopping for a few moments, and for a while, the two chatted and laughed with the old, careless abandon of their college days, without a thought of the more serious side of life, until, something being needed for the work, which Houston thought was in the tool-house, they proceeded together to look for it.

Houston was still searching for the needed implements, when Van Dorn, who was near the door, called out:

"I say, Everard, here's a small specimen of humanity who seems to be looking for you in a desperate hurry," and an instant later, he heard a familiar voice say:

"Is the boss in there, mister? Le'me in quick, I wan'ter see 'im!"

Turning quickly, he saw Bull-dog, breathless, pale and quivering with excitement.

"Say, boss," he gasped, before Houston could speak, "they want yer—down ter the Y,—Morgan has shot hisself!"

"What is that, boy?" exclaimed Houston hoarsely, clearing the space between them at a bound.

"Morgan's shot hisself, 'n they sent us fer yer,—me'n Hank,—he's out there," with a backward jerk of his thumb over his shoulder toward the open door.

Houston sprang to the door; another boy was talking excitedly with Van Dorn, while his horse stood, panting heavily and covered with dust and foam.

"Here's the man you want," said Van Dorn, turning a white face toward Houston, "Great God, Everard!" he exclaimed, "Morgan has killed himself!"

"He is not dead!" exclaimed Houston, turning towards the boy.

The latter nodded; "They found 'im shot through the head, 'n this was in his hand, 'n the cops won't let nobody in till you come," and he handed Houston a bit of paper.

It was a scrap of newspaper, crumpled and spattered with blood, and, as Houston smoothed it out, he read on the margin, in characters wavering and almost illegible, written with a trembling hand, but still Morgan's writing, "Send to the camp for Houston, he's the only friend I've got."

For an instant, it seemed to Houston as though the glorious sunlight had suddenly turned to blackness, a blackness in which the scrap of paper gleamed white before him, its red spots glowing like spots of flame. He seemed again to see Morgan as he looked when parting from him the previous evening; the haggard face, with its hollow eyes and faint, pathetic smile, and as he recalled his words in reply to his own repeated offers of money, there seemed a new meaning in them; "Maybe I'll call on you for it to-morrow if I don't have luck to-night."

But Houston realized there was no time to waste, and in a few moments he was mounted on a powerful gray horse, on his way to the Y, notwithstanding Van Dorn's protests on account of the intense heat, having requested the latter to explain his absence at the house. Just as he was about to start, Bull-dog begged to be allowed to ride with him, to which Houston consented, and lifting the little fellow up, seated him in front of himself. Very little was said, for the horse seemed to understand what was expected of him, and sped like the wind down the narrow canyon road, but Houston's hand rested kindly on Bull-dog's shoulder, steadying the slender frame, and, at the same time, warming the heart of the forlorn little waif, to whom even the touch of kindness was something exceedingly rare.

Houston's mind was occupied with thoughts of the terrible scene he was rapidly approaching, as well as with memories of his last interview with Morgan on the preceding night. At last, having crossed a ravine, the horse slackened his pace, as he climbed the steep ascent on the other side, and Houston, almost unconsciously, spoke his thoughts aloud.

"Poor Morgan!" he said, with a heavy sigh, "poor fellow! If I could only have saved him from this! God knows I would have given him any amount of money to have prevented this."

"'Twouldn't ha' been no use, sir," Bull-dog broke in quickly, eager to console Houston, "'twouldn't ha' been no use to have give 'im money, 'cause, ye see, them fellers that he played with would ha' got it all."

"Who were they?" inquired Houston.

"Oh, there was Faro Dick and Slicky Sam, and a lot of 'em; Morgan wasn't no match for fellers like them, they was all too swift fer him."

"How do you know?"

"Oh, I seen 'em playin' lots o' times, and they're all reg'lar sharpers, 'n Morgan, he'd got reckless, 'n he didn't stan' no show against 'em."

Houston looked down wonderingly and pityingly upon the little fellow, young in years, but who knew so much of the dark side of life, but nothing more was said, as, having reached the top of the hill, the station was close at hand.

Having left his horse in charge of one of the company's men, Houston, accompanied by Bull-dog as guide, proceeded across the street, to the group of dirty, disreputable-looking buildings containing the saloons, gambling houses and dance halls. He had little need of a guide, for, before the shabbiest and most disreputable of the entire lot, was gathered a motley crowd, gazing with awestruck curiosity at the building in which had been enacted the tragedy of the night before. It was a saloon with gambling rooms in the rear. Here Morgan had played his last game,—just to see what luck he would have,—as he had said to Houston, and from which he had come forth ruined, despairing, desperate.

Passing through the crowd of jabbering Chinamen and "dagoes," of miners off shift, drawn hither by curiosity, and of gamblers of all grades from the professional expert to the "tin-horn," Houston found his way around the corner of the building, down into an alley, dark, dismal and reeking with filth. Here were groups of slatternly, unkempt women, some of whom stared at him with brazen faces, while others slunk away, not quite lost to shame.

At last they came to a rickety stair-way, and as they neared the top, Bull-dog whispered:

"There's some of 'em now; that tall feller is Faro Dick, he deals down stairs, and the little, black feller is Slicky, and that short, fat one, that's Brocky Joe."

The group gathered about the door-way at the head of the stairs eyed Houston curiously as he approached. He gave them only a quick, keen glance, but in that glance he had detected the trio named by Bull-dog, and they cowered visibly beneath the scorn and contempt which flashed from his eye, while the entire group of loungers made way, impelled partly by an unconscious respect for the broad, powerful shoulders, and splendid, athletic frame.

Down a dark, narrow hall, Bull-dog led the way to a door guarded by two men, who touched their caps respectfully to Houston. They were two of the mining company's watchmen, who were kept at the station to guard their property, and to preserve order generally, and hence were designated by the gamins of the place as police and "cops."

Silently they unlocked and opened the door for Houston, and one of them entered with him. It was a small room, evidently a woman's, and its general squalor and dilapidation were made more apparent by tawdry, shabby bits of finery strewn here and there. Curtains of red damask, faded and ragged, hung at the window, excluding the daylight, and on a small table a kerosene lamp had burned itself out. But Houston took little notice of the room; as his eyes became accustomed to the dim light, he saw but one object.

Across the bed in one corner of the room, lay Morgan, his left arm thrown out across the pillows, the other dropped at his side, and a revolver clenched in his right hand. His head was turned slightly to one side, exposing the ghastly wound near the temple, his face was blackened and mutilated, but still bore traces of the terrible strain of those last few hours of life.

Houston stepped back, even his firm nerves quivering, and his heart throbbing with a great sorrow for the life so suddenly quenched in the darkness of despair.

On a chair were Morgan's hat and coat, where he had thrown them, and as Houston turned toward the little table, he saw there a newspaper from which a scrap had been torn. Taking the bit of paper, containing Morgan's last message, from his pocket, he compared them; it fitted exactly, and beside the paper lay a bit of pencil with which those last words had been written, and to Houston, with his keen perception and vivid imagination, the whole scene of the previous night with its minute and pathetic details, seemed passing before his vision. He turned to the watchman:

"Open the window," he said, and his voice sounded strange even to himself, "draw back those curtains, this place is stifling."

Upon inquiry, Houston found the watchman could give him very little information. In passing down the alley at about eight o'clock that morning, his attention had been arrested by screams issuing from the building. On rushing up-stairs, he saw a crowd gathering about the door of this room, and, on entering, was shocked at the sight revealed. Mollie, the girl who usually occupied the room, was screaming hysterically, but when able to talk explained that she had been out all night and had but just returned. Morgan was in the habit of coming to the room, and had a key, but he had not been there of late, having gambled every night till daylight.

Her screams had attracted nearly the whole neighborhood, some of whom corroborated her statements, and one or two testified to having heard a shot sometime about midnight, but nothing had been thought of it, as it was supposed to be some row in the gambling rooms below. The watchman had ordered the crowd out of the room, and sent the messenger for Houston, and also a telegram to Silver City for the coroner, who was expected on the noon train.

As it was nearly noon, Houston decided to step over to the depot, leaving the room in charge of the watchman. On his way, he heard various comments from groups gathered here and there. Passing a half-dozen miners, he heard one of them say:

"If he'd 'a been a union man, we'd 'a taken care of 'im, but he worked for the bosses, and helped 'em to make big money, and now, let the bosses take care of 'im and bury 'im."

A bitter smile crossed Houston's face, and stepping into the little telegraph office, he sent a message, first, in his own name, to one of the undertaking firms of Silver City, for everything that was needed to be sent up by the special freight that afternoon; and then a brief dispatch to Mr. Blaisdell, stating what had occurred, but that the affairs of the company were all right, and there was no necessity for his coming to the camp immediately.

A few moments later, the train arrived, bringing the coroner, and as quickly as possible the inquest was held. Very few facts were developed beyond those already learned by Houston, excepting the extent of Morgan's losses. These included not only everything which he had possessed, even to his watch and a few pieces of jewelry, but in addition, a large sum of money advanced him by Brocky Joe. Those with whom he was playing testified that he had quit shortly before midnight, and left the hall rather hastily. At the time, they thought he had gone to borrow more money, and perhaps try his luck at some other place, but nothing more was seen of him, and they soon forgot the occurrence.

When all was over and the crowd was slowly dispersing, Houston saw several members of the gambling fraternity approaching him, headed by the two designated by Bull-dog as Slicky Sam and Brocky Joe. The latter, a stout, red-faced individual, with flaming necktie and blazing diamonds, was evidently speaker for the entire party.

"We would like," he began, in a high-pitched, falsetto voice, "to express our regrets for what has occurred, and I wish to state on behalf of my associates here, and also personally, that there was no ill feeling toward your friend, and I am perfectly willing to overlook the small amount of indebtedness; and if there is anything we can do, in the way of sharing the burial expenses, or anything of the kind, we shall be glad to do so."

"Your assistance is not needed," replied Houston, in a cold, cutting tone, "you have already done your work; you and your ilk have brought him where he is, and that is enough," and he turned abruptly from them.

As he re-entered the room, he met Mollie, who cast an appealing glance at him. She could not have been over twenty years of age, but she looked worn and haggard. Her hair was disheveled, large, dark rings encircled her heavy, lusterless eyes, now swollen with weeping, and there was a look of helpless and hopeless despair in her glance that aroused Houston's pity. It was a new experience for him to be brought into contact with these wrecked and ruined lives, and sorrow for the one life which had gone out so suddenly and needlessly, made him pitiful toward all.

A look of pity, a word of pure, disinterested kindness, was something new in the life of the poor creature before him, and she began sobbing afresh:

"He's gone," she moaned, "and I don't want to live no longer."

"Did you care so much for him?" asked Houston, wonderingly.

"Yes," she sobbed, "I never cared for nobody but him. I thought once he cared for me, but after a while I found he didn't, and then I went to the bad as fast as I could, but still I cared for him. I never was very good, for I never had no chance to be, but I'd 'a been different from what I am, if he'd only 'a cared for me."

Houston went back into the wretched room, and looked long and sadly at the one who, in his last moments of despair, had called him his friend. He recalled the story told him that night among the rocks; he thought of the life ruined by a mother's neglect and sin, and now of another life shut out in hopeless misery because of his indifference and neglect, and Houston realized at that moment, as never before, the influences, for good or for evil, extending from one human life to another, spreading onward and onward,

"As wave follows wave across the sea,"

till the widening circles at last touch the shores of eternity.

An hour or two later, when Houston stepped over to the depot to meet the incoming special freight, he was somewhat surprised to see Mr. Blaisdell step from the train, and in his white face, his firmly set mouth with its hard lines, and his pale blue eyes, it could readily be seen that he knew nothing of pity or mercy for the man who had served him so faithfully.

"I did not expect you so early, Mr. Blaisdell," said Houston, as they exchanged greetings, "I thought after receiving my dispatch you would feel no anxiety, and would probably not come out till the evening train."

"Your telegram was a great relief," Mr. Blaisdell answered in an excited tone, "but I was all ready to come, as, from the tenor of Haight's message this morning, I feared the worst. You are sure the affairs of the company are all right?"

"Perfectly sure," replied Houston, calmly, "so far as money is concerned, poor Morgan has wronged no one but himself."

"Well," said Mr. Blaisdell, with a sigh of relief, "I am glad to hear that, but this is an outrageous affair,—simply outrageous,—a man in his responsible position, trusted as he has been, coming to such an end as this, under such circumstances and amid such surroundings! It is a disgrace to himself, and to those associated with him in business,—to the entire company!"

The thought flashed through Houston's mind that a deeper disgrace than this awaited the company, but he only replied:

"I had not looked at it in that light, Mr. Blaisdell; I, as one of his associates, certainly feel no disgrace attached to myself. I had thought only of the terrible pity for a life so needlessly ruined and lost."

"Pity!" said Mr. Blaisdell, contemptuously, "If a man willfully degrades himself and disgraces his friends, I have no pity for him, he deserves none for such dishonorable, dishonest conduct."

"His dishonesty, as you term it, must have been of rather an unusual type," said Houston, "since I offered him money only last night, and he refused to take it."

"So you knew of his habits and offered him money? It was your duty to have reported him to me."

"I do not need you, Mr. Blaisdell, or any one else, to tell me what my duty is here," replied Houston, with dignity, "I did not know until recently to what extent Morgan was gambling, and when a man is in trouble, I will never give him a push downward."

One of the workmen just then came to Houston for instructions regarding the shipment which he had ordered from Silver City, thus attracting Mr. Blaisdell's attention in that direction.

"What is this, Houston?" he exclaimed angrily, "what does this mean? You certainly had no right, no authority to order these things; the company will not pay one cent toward the burial of a man who has proven himself so unworthy of the confidence reposed in him."

"Mr. Blaisdell," said Houston, calmly, but in a tone his employer had never heard before, "there is not the least necessity for the company to pay one cent, or for you to feel any concern in this matter. I have ordered these things myself, personally, upon my own responsibility."

For the first time Mr. Blaisdell had found an employe who evidently did not stand in fear of him, and surprise held him silent for a moment.

"Very well," he answered, in an altered tone, "but I must say I can see no reason for such a quixotic proceeding on your part; I never supposed you and Morgan were particular friends."

"Here is my reason," Houston replied, handing him the bit of paper bearing Morgan's last words; "When a despairing man, in his last moments, appeals to me as his friend, and his only friend, even though that man were my worst enemy, I would feel in duty bound to do for him everything that a friend could do."

Mr. Blaisdell returned the slip, and there was a new respect indicated in tone and manner, as he replied:

"I don't know but you are right, do as you think best. I am going up to the camp, you can come whenever you are ready."

"I shall be there in a few hours," said Houston, and they separated.

A little later, everything that he could do had been done, and as Houston looked for the last time upon the pale face, where the angel of death was already smoothing out the lines traced by the last few days of suffering, and softening the features into a look of contentment and peace, he was glad that in the last moments of that life, there had come faith, even in one human being.

Early the next morning, a little group was gathered in a beautiful, secluded spot, on the mountain side, overlooking the station. Houston and Van Dorn were there, and a clergyman from a little parish in a small town a few miles distant, to whom the sad story had been told, read the simple but impressive words of the burial service and offered a brief prayer. And, as the weary body was lowered to its final resting place, at the foot of the murmuring pines, there came to the minds of Houston and Van Dorn the memory of the burial of a class-mate in the old college days, and simultaneously their voices rose on the clear, morning air, blending in the words chanted on that former occasion:——

"Rest, brother, rest in thy last, long sleep."

Slowly the little company dispersed, each going his own way. Upon Houston's mind the events of those last twenty-four hours had left an impression never to be effaced, but to most in that community one human life, more or less, was of slight significance. To them, life was but one great game, in which fortune, reputation, character, everything which they possessed, whether much or little, was staked on the high card. No wonder that little thought was given to the losers, dropping out, one by one!



CHAPTER XXXII.

The following days were crowded with work for Houston. A bookkeeper was immediately sent over from Silver City to do the office work, but, excepting Houston, the company had no man, both competent and who could be trusted, to fill Morgan's position. It was therefore arranged that for the next few weeks, until they could ascertain the address of a former superintendent, who had recently returned east, and communicate with him, Houston was to superintend the working of all the mines.

This involved much additional work and responsibility, but Houston filled the position so satisfactorily and showed such business tact and executive ability, that Mr. Blaisdell, on his return to Silver City, had fully determined to retain him permanently as superintendent at the mines, and, if possible, secure Barden, their former man, as an assistant.

"I tell you, Rivers, that Houston is a capable man, wonderfully capable," he said, having related to the remaining officers of the company Houston's success in filling Morgan's position.

"It seems to me, Blaisdell," said Mr. Brunnell, the benevolent looking old gentleman whom Houston had seen on his first visit to the offices, and one of the board of directors, "it seems to me you had better look out for him yourself; that young man is rising so fast, he's likely to oust you yet."

"Well, no, I guess not," replied Mr. Blaisdell confidently, with his complacent smile, "I don't think you fellows could get along without me, just yet. I don't know what we would do with him, though, in case of any disagreement, he's as independent as though he were a millionaire instead of a salaried clerk; he would never care a rap for anything we might say, he would take his own way every time," and Mr. Blaisdell gave an account of his interview with Houston at the Y.

"Humph!" sniffed Mr. Rivers contemptuously, "You'd better let me manage that fellow, Blaisdell, he'll run away with you."

"He'll run away with those mines up there, Blaisdell," chuckled Mr. Brunnell, peering over his glasses at the general manager, who was strutting pompously about the office.

"Well, you fellows may joke as much as you please," said Mr. Blaisdell, a little testily, "I tell you the man is smart."

"Confound it! I know he's smart; I tell you he's too damned smart for you!" responded Mr. Rivers, who had very little respect for Mr. Blaisdell's business ability, but found him a very convenient cat's-paw.

As early as possible after the completion of the new arrangements at the mines, Houston and Van Dorn, in accordance with a previous engagement, visited Jack at his cabin. The hour was late, and as they entered the room already familiar to Houston, a lamp was burning brightly, but a heavy screen hung over it, concentrating the light upon the table beneath, on which lay various drawings and tracings, and allowing only a dim light to pervade the room.

Houston introduced Van Dorn, whom Jack greeted with characteristic courtesy, though with something of his old reserve, and having seated his guests, he at once proceeded to the discussion of the business which had brought them together.

In reply to an inquiry of his regarding the present situation of affairs, Houston informed him of the arrangement just completed by which he was to have entire charge of the work at the mines for the next few weeks, until the coming of Mr. Barden.

"Your present position is much more favorable for your work," replied Jack, "it is exceedingly doubtful whether the company will have any use for the services of Mr. Barden."

Houston then stated briefly what had been done since Van Dorn's arrival, adding in conclusion, "Of course, we would have accomplished more within this time, had it not been for the confusion and changes resulting from Morgan's sudden death."

"Yes," said Jack, "that has hindered you temporarily, but it will result to your advantage. All that I regretted was that an examination which I hoped you and Mr. Van Dorn might be able to make last week, immediately upon his arrival, will now have to be postponed until next week, but even that is better as it is."

"How is that?" inquired Houston, with much interest, "to what do you refer?"

"I refer to the Lucky Chance mine; are you familiar with that property?"

"Not especially," said Houston, "I have paid no attention to it, as it was not one in which our company was interested, nor one of which I was in charge. Since the recent change, I have visited the mine once with Mr. Blaisdell, but we only went in a short distance, and he informed me there was but little work done there, and but few men employed."

"Yes," replied Jack, with peculiar emphasis, "but that 'little work' as he terms it yields the company a larger percentage than any other single mine which they own."

Houston's face expressed considerable astonishment. "You surprise me," he exclaimed, "because I thought I knew their best paying properties, and I never would have supposed that was one of them, either from my own observation, or from anything I have heard of it."

"It would not be for the interests of the company to have much said regarding the mine, or to have the workings investigated very closely. You are probably aware that the claim adjoins the Yankee Boy?"

"Certainly," answered Houston, "I am aware of that fact."

"Very well," replied Jack, rising and going to the table. "I have prepared some diagrams here which I would like you and Mr. Van Dorn to examine. Here you will see," he continued, as they drew their chairs near the table," the boundaries and underground workings of the Lucky Chance mine, with their approximate measurements. Please look them over and see if you detect any irregularities."

Both Houston and Van Dorn studied the diagram carefully for a moment, when the latter exclaimed:

"Why, the main tunnel extends more than a hundred feet beyond the boundary line."

"Now allow me to substitute this diagram," said Jack, spreading a larger tracing before them. "This is the same as the other with the addition of a portion of the boundary lines and underground workings of the adjoining claim, the Yankee Boy."

"Ah, I see," said Houston, "the tunnel from the Lucky Chance has been carried beyond the boundary line in such a direction as to strike the vein of the adjoining claim."

"That is it exactly," said Van Dorn, "no wonder the mine pays well!"

"As I stated before," continued Jack, "these measurements, and, to a certain extent, the course of the tunnel, are given approximately, as I had no means of ascertaining the exact data, but I know they are essentially correct. It only remains for you, gentlemen, to verify this, by making an examination of the tunnel and taking the courses and measurements exactly, and also by comparing the ore now taken out with that originally found in the mine, and with the ore of the Yankee Boy, and you will then have evidence of the greatest fraud which has been perpetrated upon the rightful owners of the Yankee Boy, and which has been carried on for the last four or five years."

"But how did you discover this?" asked Houston.

"I first came here," replied Jack, "shortly after the sale of the Yankee Boy group of properties had been consummated. Within a few months afterward, the company located the Lucky Chance mine; development work was carried forward as rapidly as possible, quite a number of men being employed, of which I was one. It was evident that in locating this mine, the company hoped they had struck an extension of the vein of the Yankee Boy lode; it proved of an entirely different character, however, yielding rather a low-grade ore. The claim was surveyed and patented as soon as the necessary amount of improvements, required by law, had been placed upon it. After obtaining patent, the company then extended the tunnel in an entirely different direction, and, as you will find upon investigation, beyond the boundary line, until it intersected a portion of the Yankee Boy vein. Here a body of very rich ore was struck, and the mine has been a paying property ever since. For this last work very few men were retained, and but few have been employed there since, those few being men whom the company thought could be trusted, or upon whom they had some hold by which they could compel them to silence. I was employed there until very recently, and from the first had a thorough understanding of the course and extent of the different workings, and consequently am perfectly familiar with them."

"Everard," said Van Dorn, for whom work of this kind possessed a special attraction, "I think this is just about the kind of an expedition we will like."

"I think so myself," Houston replied, "but at the same time, it is the most risky piece of work we have yet undertaken, and we will have to depend upon our friend here for suggestions and advice. You will of course accompany us?" he added, turning to Jack, who had withdrawn from the table and was sitting in the dim light.

"Certainly," responded Jack, "it would be a very dangerous undertaking for two strangers to go through that part of the mine without a guide at any time, especially at night, and it will be at best, a hazardous piece of work."

"How many are employed there? and what class of men are they?" inquired Houston.

"About a dozen on the night shift," Jack replied, "mostly Cornishmen, but whatever their nationality, it is usually the most treacherous and brutal men that we have that are employed by the company in that mine. Maverick used to work there until he was transferred above ground. It will not be necessary for us to come in contact with very many of them, however, as they are so widely scattered through the mine, and on the night shift next week, there will be four men,—a father and three sons,—who will do just about whatever I say, especially if a little money is given them. Mr. Houston's new position as superintendent, will aid us very materially. A visit from him, with me as guide, will not excite suspicion, but Mr. Van Dorn will be suspected in a moment, and we must disguise him."

Van Dorn whistled softly.

"Could you assume the Irish dialect, on an occasion like this, Mr. Van Dorn?" Jack inquired.

"An' shure," exclaimed Van Dorn, with the broadest accent imaginable, "an' will yez be afther tellin' me, be-dad! why I should not shpake me own mither tongue?"

Both Houston and Jack laughed at Van Dorn's ready answer.

"You will do," Jack said quietly, but in a tone so rich and musical as to chain the attention of his guests while he proceeded to plan the details of their visit to the mine.

In an hour or two, the modus operandi had been fully decided upon, and nothing remained but to fix the night for their expedition, and this it was thought best to leave to be determined by circumstances the following week. The instruments needed for taking measurements were to be taken down beforehand by Houston, and concealed in a safe place near the mine, and on the night of the examination, he was to go from the house directly to the mine, where he would be joined by Jack and Van Dorn, the latter dressed in a suit of Mike's mining clothes, and personating him as closely as possible.

All arrangements being now as nearly complete as possible, Houston and Van Dorn bade their host a cordial good night, and walked cheerfully homeward, in the cool, night air, under the star-lit sky, all unconscious of a pair of eyes, which from behind a large rock, had eagerly watched for their appearance, and followed their every movement.



CHAPTER XXXIII.

As Houston and Van Dorn disappeared around a turn in the road, the figure of Haight emerged into the starlight from behind a large rock where he had been concealed most of the time during their stay at the cabin. Incidently he had seen them on their way to visit Jack, and the lateness of the hour combined with the direction in which they were going, aroused his curiosity to such a degree that he followed them at a distance, and having seen them enter the cabin, his suspicious nature was at once on the alert.

"I guess I'll find out what in the devil this means," he said to himself, as he paused behind a rock at a little distance, determined to ascertain what he could regarding their movements.

It was a long and wearisome watch; once or twice he ventured near the cabin, to see whether by closer observation he could obtain any clue to what might be going on within, but the closely shaded window gave no sign, and beyond an occasional low murmuring of voices, nothing disturbed the silence, except once a low, ominous growl from Rex, as he caught sight of Haight's skulking figure from his station just outside the door.

When at last the door opened, and Houston and Van Dorn stepped forth into the calm night, the lynx-eyed watcher failed to detect anything beyond a friendly leave-taking, after which the two walked homeward, chatting in the most commonplace manner imaginable.

"By George!" he soliloquized, as he followed at a safe distance, "I wonder if I haven't had my labor for my pains! But that did look mighty queer anyhow, their going 'round to see the old chap, and I'll wager there's something in it, too. I shouldn't wonder if that Van Dorn is out here in the interest of that old party who was looking at mines a while ago, and with Houston's help is going to get a few pointers. Jack knows pretty well what is going on around here, and may be a little money would make him talk. I'm going to keep watch of some of these smart people, and I know of one or two that will help me about it. If I can get hold of anything, I'll report it to Rivers; Houston has pulled the wool over Blaisdell's eyes, but Rivers won't have anybody monkeying round these mines, and if I can once put him on the track, there'll be a few less of these swells about, and it will be money in my pocket."

Late as it was when Houston and Van Dorn returned to the house, Miss Gladden and Lyle had not retired. Houston had told Miss Gladden the secret of his business there in the mining camp, and, true to Lyle's prediction, he had found her, while quick to realize the dangers of his position, yet able to assist him by her readiness to enter into his feelings, her interest in his plans and her timely suggestions. Once she had met Jack since learning Houston's secret, and in a few, well-chosen words, had conveyed to him her knowledge of the fact that he was giving her lover aid and protection in his work, and her gratitude therefor.

She and Lyle were aware of the import of the visit to the cabin that night, and they sat in the dusky shadows, looking out into the night, alternately talking in low tones, and listening for the return of Houston and his friend.

Miss Gladden was the first to catch the sound of her lover's voice, as he and Van Dorn approached the house, and a moment later, they heard the ringing laugh of the latter.

"They are evidently in good spirits," remarked Lyle, "their visit must have been a satisfactory one."

"Mr. Van Dorn seems so jubilant they must have made some new discoveries," said Miss Gladden, "he never seems so happy as when he is ferreting out some fraud, or unearthing some dishonest scheme."

"There is material enough here to make his happiness complete for some time," said Lyle rather bitterly, "I only wish every one of the guilty parties could be brought to justice, but I doubt whether they ever will be."

"Why?" exclaimed Miss Gladden in surprise, "do you think Mr. Houston will fail after all?"

"No, not that necessarily," Lyle answered, "but even if he succeeds in getting his evidence together, and his friends come out from the east, I do not believe they will ever succeed in securing the ones who are most guilty, who have planned and plotted the whole thing. Over and over again, people whom they have wronged and defrauded have brought suit against them, but to no purpose; they are continually involved in litigation, but they always manage to evade the law in one way or another, I do not claim to understand how."

"I would not think they could escape with all the evidence accumulating against them now," said Miss Gladden thoughtfully.

"You wouldn't think so," replied Lyle, "but you don't know them. Who is that?" she asked suddenly, catching sight in the dim light of a figure approaching the house.

"It looks like Haight," said Miss Gladden, "but why is he creeping along so cautiously?"

"I believe he has been following Mr. Houston," said Lyle, quickly, "wait a minute, keep perfectly quiet, so he will think every one is asleep up stairs," and in an instant, she was going swiftly and noiselessly down the stairs. The door at the foot of the stairs was partially open, and Lyle could hear Haight, as, after opening the outside door very carefully, he stepped lightly toward the room occupied by Houston and Van Dorn; here he paused and listened, but evidently hearing nothing, he cautiously made his way across to the room of Mr. and Mrs. Maverick, the door of which was ajar.

"Jim!" he whispered, "Jim, wake up!"

"Who's that? What d'ye want?" came the response in a surly tone.

"Sh! don't make any noise," he whispered, "it's Haight; get up and come out on the porch, but be quiet about it; I want to have a talk with you."

A muttered assent was given, and Haight tip-toed softly out to the porch, and sat down.

Lyle crept up-stairs again to Miss Gladden.

"Don't be frightened," she said, "but I believe Haight must have seen or heard something;" and she hastily told what she had overheard.

"Now," said she in conclusion, "the window on the porch is open, and as soon as they are both outside, I will go there and listen. Even if I cannot hear all that is said I will probably catch enough to learn what is going on. You wait for me and keep perfectly quiet."

A few moments later, Maverick shuffled out on the porch and sat down beside Haight with a growl.

"Damned pretty time, I sh'd think, to talk! What in hell do you want?"

"Well, you were long enough getting out here," said Haight, in his smoothest tones, all unaware of a figure that had glided to the open window behind him, and now knelt within six feet of him. "Now quit your growling, for you and I are good friends, Jim, and I want your advice. Jim," he continued in a lower tone, "what would you think two fellows like Houston and Van Dorn would want with that old chap, Jack?"

"Huh?" said Maverick, rather stupidly, "what are ye drivin' at?"

"Wake up! you're half asleep, Jim! Your two dandy boarders here only just came home about twenty minutes ago; they've been for the last three or four hours down there in Jack's cabin, with the windows all shut tight and curtains down, and still as death. What do you suppose that means?"

"Damned if I know," was the laconic response.

"Now, Jim, don't be so uncommunicative; there may be something in this for you and me if we just put our heads together, 'two heads are better than one,' you know, so set your thinking machine to work and grind out some ideas."

"Well," said Maverick, slowly, "I dun'no what that Houston, damn him, would be runnin' 'round after Jack for, unless he wanted to get some p'inters on the mines some way."

"That's it, go ahead!" said Haight.

"Houston," continued Maverick, with an oath and applying a vile epithet, "is too all-fired smart to notice anybody, and Jack's another, so they'd be likely to hitch."

"That's right," said Haight, "now what object would he be likely to have in getting information from Jack?"

"I dun'no," said the other, "unless mebbe he's paid by somebody on the outside."

"Well," said Haight, "I guess we've got about the same idea of it; it's my opinion he is paid by somebody, and that somebody is Van Dorn, or whoever's backing him. I don't put much stock in this machinery business of his; he don't act like a fellow that needs to go peddling machines about the country, and I notice he don't seem in any great rush about putting it up, now he's got here; he ain't one of the kind that has to rustle for a living, like you and me. I think he's just out here getting pointers on the mines for that old fellow that was here a while ago, and he's probably paying Houston a good, round sum for helping him along, and now they've got Jack roped in on the deal."

"Well," said Maverick savagely, "if that's their game, I guess 'twill be dead easy stoppin' it any time we're a mind to; these 'ere mines is awfully unsafe places for a tenderfoot to be prowlin' 'round in," and he laughed a cruel laugh, very familiar to the listener at the window.

"That's so," assented Haight, "I think we'd better keep close watch of these fellows, and if they get too fresh, just have 'em laid out with a sandbag or two."

"Better'n that," said Maverick, "to take 'em some time in the mines; folks like them are likely to get dizzy and fall some times, or get in the way of the ore buckets and be knocked silly."

"Well, I'll tell you what I want you to do; I'll keep watch, and if I know of their going down to the cabin again, I want you to put some men on to watch out for them; we'll investigate and find out what is going on. Put on what men you please, and have them report to me, and we'll find out what this means, and make our plans accordingly."

"That there's a damned ticklish place to get any of the men to go late at night," said Maverick reflectively.

"Why so?"

"That place is harnted, ye know, by the man on the spotted horse."

"Oh, nonsense!" ejaculated Haight.

"It's a fact though; he rides up and down there once in a while, and I wouldn't want ter see him myself."

"Oh, hang your ghost!" said Haight, impatiently, "tell your men if they see it to shoot it."

"That wouldn't do no good," responded Maverick doggedly, "It's the sight of it brings bad luck, and sometimes death. There was a fellow here two years ago, he seen it one night, and the next day he was killed in the mines; they said the ghost had called him."

"Well," said Haight, rising, "It would be well if your ghost would only call Houston and Van Dorn some night; but I want you to do as I say, anyway."

Lyle, who had caught nearly every word of this conversation, now rose quickly and retreated to the kitchen, knowing she would there be safe from detection, and could also judge of their movements. Nothing further was said, however; Haight went stealthily up-stairs to his room, and Maverick, after cursing to himself a few moments, was soon snoring profoundly, and Lyle then returned to Miss Gladden's room. She felt a sickening sensation as she repeated the conversation to her friend, and realized all that it meant. Miss Gladden was inexpressibly shocked:

"Lyle, my dear child, is it possible that they would go to such extreme limits as that. I had thought that he would be in danger of some assault in the dark, or something of that kind, but to trap him in the mines! I never dreamed of anything so cowardly, so dastardly! He will be in constant danger in the performance of his daily round of duties."

"Dear Leslie," said Lyle,—for thus Miss Gladden had of late requested her to address her,—"I have told you, you did not realize what a place this is, and the worst of all is, that it is my father who is planning this, after all the kindness which you and Mr. Houston have shown me! What must you think of us?"

"Of you, my dear child? I love you and trust you the same as ever," exclaimed Miss Gladden impulsively, "he is no father of yours!"

Lyle, in her grief, did not notice the import of Miss Gladden's words, but she exclaimed passionately:

"I will never call that man father again as long as I live, and if it ever comes to that, I will shoot him, rather than let him injure Mr. Houston." Then, a moment later, she added more calmly:

"I must not allow myself to become excited, I must think and plan. Do you know, I was so glad that they have not, as yet, found the real clue to what is going on, and do not even suspect the truth, and they must not be allowed even to surmise it; as long as they do not, Mr. Houston is comparatively safe, and they must not be allowed to watch him, or get any clue to his movements."

"But how can you prevent it, dear? You know the country and the people so much better than I, that you can plan and direct far better than I can; you command, dear Lyle, and you will find me ready to obey, afraid of nothing, not death itself, if I can only help him and save him from his enemies."

"You had better write a note to him to-night, to give him quietly in the morning, as you may not have an opportunity for a long talk with him so early, and tell him what I have told you. Then he can probably make arrangements with Jack by writing, so that he will not need to go to the cabin again at present; or, if necessary, I can go for him."

"But what will they do about their intended examination of the mines? They will surely be watched then."

"All they can do is to make their plans as quietly and secretly as possible, and then go prepared for the worst, but I think I can help them there; I have a scheme of my own, something that occurred to me while listening to their conversation, which I will tell you later."

The note was written, and it was nearly daylight, when the two at last retired, to rest possibly, but not to sleep.



CHAPTER XXXIV.

For the next ensuing days there were no more visits to the cabin. According to Lyle's suggestion, a few notes were quietly exchanged between Houston and Jack; thus their plans were maturing, while there was nothing which outsiders could detect.

Meanwhile, Haight had bestowed considerable attention upon Miss Araminta Bixby, to the unspeakable delight of that individual, and had so ingratiated himself into her favor that she only too gladly consented to play the part of spy on the movements of Houston and Van Dorn. The two Maverick boys had also agreed to report to him whatever they were able to learn concerning these two.

Houston and Van Dorn, however, did not seem quite so intimate of late. They were apparently as good friends as ever, but were not so frequently seen together. Nearly every evening, Van Dorn started out for a stroll, sometimes with Lyle, sometimes alone, often sauntering in the direction of the cabin, but never seen to enter; while Houston, after spending an hour or two with Miss Gladden, would walk down to the mines, and entering the various tunnels, or descending the shafts of one mine and another, would watch the night shift at their work, or inspect the workings, occasionally taking measurements here and there. On one of these trips Jack accompanied him, and on their return, they completed the arrangements for the visit to the Lucky Chance mine, the following night.

On the afternoon of the next day, Houston returned to the house a little earlier than usual, having finished his work for the day at the mines and mills, and as he with Miss Gladden and Lyle, sat in the little porch, they were joined a few moments later by Van Dorn. In low tones the plans for the evening were discussed.

"Of course," said Houston, "we shall go prepared for trouble, but I do not anticipate that we shall meet with any. Even if we are watched, our course of procedure will differ so slightly from what we have followed for a week past, I think it will not excite suspicion."

"They have watched me so many evenings to no purpose, they may be off guard to-night," said Van Dorn.

"Don't flatter yourself that you will escape 'Minty's' espionage for a single night," replied Lyle, "she would remain out all night watching you to gain a smile from Haight in the morning."

Van Dorn laughed. "So it is the charming Miss Bixby whose watchful eye is upon me!" he exclaimed, "I think I will have to enter the lists as Haight's rival, and see if I cannot win such faithful devotion upon the right side."

"After you are gone," said Lyle, "I will soon be able to tell whether there will be men sent out to watch you to-night; and I shall act accordingly," she added, with a smile at Miss Gladden.

"Why, Miss Maverick, what will you do?" inquired Van Dorn, "you must not expose yourself in any way."

"I will be in no danger," she answered smiling.

"I have no idea what Lyle intends to do," said Houston, "but I have great confidence in her plans, for she knows this class of people better than we, and I have found her judgment to be relied upon, on every occasion so far."

Lyle's beautiful eyes spoke her thanks for his words of appreciation, as she asked:

"At what hour will you have completed the examination, and be ready to leave the mine?"

"Probably very near twelve o'clock," Houston replied, "we cannot accomplish our work much before that time, and I do not wish to be out much later."

"Well," said Lyle, merrily, but with a slightly mysterious air, "if you are out at that hour, you may see the phantom horse and his rider."

"Why, how is that?" inquired Van Dorn wonderingly, while Houston remarked:

"If we see nothing more than phantoms, we shall be very happily disappointed."

"All right," she responded, "if the ghost walks to-night, don't be surprised," and hearing some one enter the dining room to make preparations for the evening meal, she left them, and the subject of conversation changed immediately.

A few hours later, Houston started as usual for the mines. There was nothing out of the ordinary course of affairs in this, except that the leave-taking between him and Leslie was unusually tender, but of this no one knew but themselves. A little earlier, Van Dorn had left for his customary stroll, giving Lyle an invitation to accompany him, which she declined on the plea of being very busy. She immediately withdrew to the kitchen, and smiled to herself presently, as she saw Minty, with an air of great importance, starting out in the same direction. She had been gone about half an hour, when Lyle, who was again seated in the porch, caught sight of her moon-shaped face peering around the corner of the house in frantic endeavors to attract Haight's attention. As he was facing in almost an opposite direction, her efforts were unavailing, and Lyle, who could with difficulty restrain a smile, added to her embarrassment by inquiring in the blandest tones:

"What is it, Araminta? do you wish to see me?"

At the mention of her name, Haight turned suddenly, just as the blushing Miss Bixby was stammering out his name, and catching his eye, she began nodding vigorously, to signify the importance of her errand.

For once, Haight's punctilious suavity upon which he prided himself, deserted him, and exclaiming, partly in anger, and partly as a blind, "Confound it! what does the fool want of me?" he disappeared around the house, while Lyle exchanged glances with Miss Gladden, and the inoffensive young bookkeeper, recently imported from Silver City, looked on in mute astonishment.

At the kitchen door, Haight found his agent and spy, her face shining with delight that she at last had some news to impart.

"He's went in there to-night, Mr. Haight," she cried breathlessly, "I seen him; I've watched him every night, but he's never went in till to-night."

"You fool!" exclaimed Haight, angrily, "why couldn't you come around and give me the tip on the quiet, instead of standing there grimacing like an idiot, making a fool of yourself and me, too? Where are the boys?"

Such a greeting was too much for Minty, after her faithfulness; her anger was too great even for words, she was speechless and without deigning even a look at Haight, she went into the house, and rushing to her room, burst into a storm of tears, vowing then and there, between her sobs, that she would tell Mr. Van Dorn every word that Haight had said about him.

Meanwhile, Lyle, from her post of observation in the kitchen, saw Haight call Jim Maverick out from among a group of miners who had congregated for an evening's visit, and after a few words, Maverick signaled to one of the miners, who, with his two companions, came over and joined them. A few moments later the three started down the road, and Lyle heard Haight's final instructions to them:

"Get onto what those fellows are about, if you have to stay till morning, and if you want any help, send Jake back."

She knew the men; they were cruel and treacherous, and she was confident that they were well armed, but they were at the same time, cowards, and returning to Miss Gladden, she whispered:

"I shall try my little experiment to-night, and I do not believe there will be any trouble."

It was quite dark when the men who had been sent to watch for Van Dorn reached the little cabin. A lamp was burning within, as could be told by the lines of light around the edge of the dark shade at the window, but beyond this, there was neither sign nor sound. Having assured themselves that there was no way by which they could ascertain what was going on within, the men sat down behind a little clump of evergreens, and filling their pipes, prepared to await developments. Scarcely had they done so, however, when the light suddenly went out.

"What the divil do they think they're givin' us?" said one of the men, with an oath.

"They seen us mos' likely, and they're tryin' to fool us that there's nobody there."

"They can't play no such trick on us as that, damn 'em," said the first speaker, but at that instant the cabin door opened, and two figures came out. The men sprang quickly to their feet, making no sound, and listening intently. They heard the lock click in the door, and Jack's voice bidding Rex take care of the house, to which he barked in reply; and then came Mike's broad voice:

"The saints presarve us! but the baste knows more than mony a mon, I'm afther thinkin'."

"That he does," replied Jack, "and he is far more faithful."

The men, astonished, slunk back into the brush, their keen eyes watching every movement of the two as they passed; there was no mistaking those figures, or the rough clothes which they wore; it was Jack and Mike, and their powerful muscle was too well known throughout the camp, for any man, even the most brutal, to have the slightest wish to tackle either of them.

As Jack and his companion passed out of hearing, the men dropped to the ground, and for a moment the air resounded with their profanity, while they held a brief consultation.

"They've tricked us, and that feller's hidin' 'round here," said the leader, "or else he went on ahead to the mines; he hadn't no time to go back to the house, for we'd 'a met 'im. There's somethin' in the wind to-night," he added with an oath, "and I'm goin' to find out what 'tis. You fellers git after them two and keep 'em in sight; the boss is down there, and mebbe the other feller, too; if ye see 'im, send Jake to me, and I'll come 'round there and we'll lay for 'em. If he ain't there, he's here, hidin' somewhere, and I'll watch and settle his hash for 'im all right when he does show up."

"We'd better git some more of the boys," said Jake, "if we're goin' to tackle them fellers with Jack and Mike along; that ain't no kind of a job I'm hankerin' after."

"You damned fool!" said the first speaker, "who's said anything 'bout Jack and Mike? They'll come back the way they've went, and them others will start up the canyon for the house, and if we three can't hold 'em up, my name ain't Pete Brody; now git!"

Jack and his partner had met Houston in the Yankee Boy mine. As they emerged from the shaft a little later, the piercing eyes of Jack and Houston caught a glimpse of two figures skulking among the rocks at a distance. Van Dorn was at a slight disadvantage, being somewhat near-sighted, and having been obliged to take off his glasses when donning Mike's costume.

"I know them," said Jack, "they are two of the three that were outside the cabin, and one of them is about the biggest coward that breathes; we could dispose of a regiment of such men, but I prefer to get along without trouble if we can."

They started for the other mine, Houston taking the lead and Van Dorn following, while Jack brought up the rear.

"They are following us," said Jack, after two or three quick glances behind him, "but at a distance; we will probably have a nearer view of them later, when we leave the mine."

As they proceeded through the tunnel of the Lucky Chance mine, they met very few of the miners; they touched their caps to Houston with a sort of sullen civility, and greeted his companions with rough jests, which Jack received with his usual taciturn manner, but to which Van Dorn, from underneath his disguise, responded with bits of Irish blarney and wit, which greatly amused his associates.

Meanwhile, Pete Brody, as he kept his solitary watch before the cabin, was surprised by the sudden return of Jake.

"Have ye found 'im?" he inquired eagerly, "Is he down there with the boss?"

"No, he's not there."

"Then, what in hell are you back here for?"

"Bud sent me," answered Jake; "he said to tell ye they've gone into the Lucky Chance, and what do ye be thinkin' o' that?"

"The Lucky Chance!" exclaimed Pete, "then there's some diviltry a goin' sure, for the old man, he don't let nobody into that mine 'thout he's along; and if that Van-what's-his-name ain't down there he's right here, that's all, and here I stays."

"And me and Bud, we're to watch out for the boss?"

"Yes, lay for 'im and overhaul 'im, and find out what the divil is goin' on."

"I guess he's a pretty tough feller to handle, from all I've heerd," remarked Jake reflectively.

Pete responded with an oath. "Knock 'im silly, he'll be easy 'nough handlin' then."

"Ye don't mean for to do 'im up, do ye Pete?"

"Well, I guess nobody'd feel very bad if ye did."

Jake went down the road, and Pete was alone once more. After waiting a while, he determined to ascertain, if possible, whether there was any one within the cabin. As he approached the door, there was a low savage growl from the faithful watcher within. Very stealthily he tried to open the door, but it was locked, and in response there was such a furious onset upon the other side, accompanied by such fierce growls, that he started back involuntarily.

It was nearly twelve o'clock, and Pete was growing desperate, and anxious to put an end to his long watch. He retreated to the road, and stood looking at the cabin, trying to decide whether he should break in the window and shoot the dog, and run the risk of being shot in return by whoever might be concealed within, when his attention was suddenly arrested by a strange sound, as of heavily muffled footsteps close behind him. He turned quickly, and in the starlight beheld a sight that seemed to chill the blood in his veins. Not more than fifty feet distant, and slowly approaching him, were the spotted horse and his ghostly rider.

Every detail was perfect, like the description he had often heard given by others who had seen the frightful apparition: the man dressed in his miner's clothes, carrying the empty bag from which the gold had been stolen; his face ghastly white, and the blood streaming from his breast, while horse and rider were partially shrouded by a white covering which floated from behind them.

Nearer and nearer came those strange footsteps, closer and closer the fearful sight, and still Pete stood, as if turned to stone, his eyes starting from their sockets, his hair rising, but unable to move or speak.

Suddenly a long, low groan issuing from the ghastly lips seemed to break the spell, and with one terrible shriek, Pete gave two or three bounds out of the road, and ran for his life, jumping and leaping over the rocks and through the brush, like a wild man.

The ghost gave a low, rippling laugh of satisfaction, and turning the horse, rode rapidly back in the direction from which it had come, until striking the road from the house to the mines, where the horse trotted briskly for some distance, but on nearing the mines, once more resumed his funereal pace.

The two men concealed in the brush along the road had no warning of the approaching phantom, until they caught the sound of the strange footsteps, and peered cautiously out, only to see the fearful sight that Pete beheld shortly before.

"Holy Moses!" exclaimed Jake, with a yell, "it's the ghost!" The men jumped simultaneously into the road, and started for the miners' quarters, screaming like maniacs. The ghost followed in swift pursuit until they were some distance past the mines; the men then being safely disposed of with no danger of their return, it turned slowly in the direction of the Lucky Chance mine.

Houston and his friends, having accomplished their task, stepped forth from the tunnel into the starlight, looking carefully and searchingly in every direction.

"There is no one to be seen at present," said Houston in low tones, "they may be concealed about here, or we may meet them on the road to the house."

"Very probably," Jack replied, "we must now proceed with the utmost caution. Mr. Van Dorn and I will accompany you to the house, and he had better then go with me to the cabin, in case there should be spies watching for our return, and it will be safer for him to remain there until nearly daylight, as none of the men will be out at that time, and he can return to the house unobserved."

They had gone but a short distance, however, when, passing around a curve in the road, they beheld a sight that filled them with astonishment.

"Shades of the departed!" exclaimed Houston, "what kind of an apparition is this?"

Jack studied the approaching figures for an instant, a smile of amusement lighting up his usually stern features, while Van Dorn hastily slipped on his glasses for a better view.

"That," said Jack, "is evidently the famous phantom of Spotted Horse gulch, but who has originated the idea?"

"It must be Lyle," said Houston, "she said the ghost would walk to-night."

"Well, by George!" exclaimed Van Dorn, "that is pretty good anyway."

Slowly the ghost approached, giving the interested observers an opportunity to note the details of the make-up; the ghastly face, the heavy beard of dark colored wool, the narrow strips of red flannel streaming from breast and side, and even the heavy woolen socks upon the horse's feet, muffling the sound of his steps. Suddenly the slouch hat was raised, and the shining eyes of Lyle looked out from the strange disguise, as she announced in triumphant tones:

"The road is clear, and you are safe!"

"Lyle," said Houston, "how did you ever think of this? Did you devise this masquerade?"

"The idea was mine," she answered, "it occurred to me the other night while listening to their talk, but Miss Gladden helped me to carry it out."

"And was it a success?" asked Van Dorn wonderingly, having more practical knowledge of mines than of miners, "Were the men frightened?"

"You would have thought so, could you have seen Pete Brody," Lyle replied, with a low laugh, "I believe he is running yet, and I wouldn't be surprised if Jake has lost what few wits he ever possessed."

"It was one of the best schemes that could have been devised," said Jack, gravely, adding, "We probably owe you more than we know."

Quietly and safely the little party proceeded up the winding road, and having reached their several destinations, all were soon at rest. Even the spotted horse, securely stabled in his accustomed place, gravely munched his wisp of hay without a thought of the ghostly escapade in which he had borne so prominent a part.

But in the miners' quarters consternation reigned, as Pete and Bud related their experiences, Jake being utterly incapacitated for speech. Even to Jack and Van Dorn, Mike had a fearful tale to tell of the sight he had witnessed, while alone with Rex in the cabin, and it was some time before his perturbed Irish fancies could be soothed; and "the night that the ghost walked," was one long remembered and frequently recalled by many of the denizens of the little mining camp.



CHAPTER XXXV.

After the events leading up to the examination of the Lucky Chance mine, it was considered best for a while to pursue very nearly the same line of conduct that had been followed for the last ten days, carefully avoiding any abrupt change which might attract attention. All necessary data had now been secured, and Houston felt that he could better afford to remain quiet for a brief time and reconnoiter the situation, than by any hasty move to excite further suspicion at the present time.

At the breakfast table the next morning, however, the thoughts of all present were partially diverted into different channels, by the arrival of a telegram for Houston which proved to be a message from Ned Rutherford, to the effect that he and his brother were on their way to Silver City, and would be at the mining camp within the next twenty-four or thirty-six hours.

Haight had been exceedingly angry on learning from Maverick, early in the morning, of the failure of the men to report anything definite concerning the movements of those whom they had been sent out to watch. He had accomplished nothing, and was uncertain what course next to pursue, and he too, decided to remain quiet for the present. He continued to watch Houston and Van Dorn, his ugly suspicions only half concealed by the smiling exterior which he tried to assume. He had hastened to make peace with Minty, as he feared the results which might follow should his plottings become known to Houston, not dreaming that the latter had woven such a web around, not the mining company alone, but including also its principal employes, that in remaining where he was, a fate far worse than his fears awaited him.

During the day, Miss Gladden and Lyle busied themselves with preparations for the expected guests. A room on the ground floor, adjoining and connecting with the one occupied by Houston and Van Dorn, and with a view of the lake and cascades, was put in readiness; and books, sketches and bric-a-brac contributed by Houston and Miss Gladden, and tastefully arranged by Lyle, relieved the blank walls and plain furniture, and made the place look quite attractive.

Houston was jubilant over the information acquired by their expedition of the previous night; nothing out of the usual course occurred that day, and returning earlier from his customary visit to the mines than he had done of late, the remainder of the evening was devoted to music and song.

After Miss Gladden and Lyle had gone up-stairs, they sat for some time talking over the events of the last few days, and anticipating the coming of Rutherford and his brother on the morrow. Many were Miss Gladden's surmises regarding the stranger, and Lyle then learned for the first time that he was an intimate friend of Houston's.

"Everard tells me that though Ned is a pleasant fellow and good hearted, yet he is not in the least like his brother. He says Morton, as he always calls him, is a most perfect gentleman in every sense of the word, and a scholar of rare intellectual attainments, fond of scientific research, and a brilliant writer."

"I judged from his picture that the two brothers were very unlike," said Lyle, "and from your description he will be in many respects a new specimen to come under my limited observation; I will have to make a study of him, and see if he is at all like my idea of a literary person. I would not suppose, though, there would be much to interest him here; the only rarities he will find are possibly new phases of ignorance and coarseness and crime."

Miss Gladden thought, as she looked at Lyle, that if the new-comer did not find rare beauty of mind and soul, as well as of form and face, in that secluded region, he certainly must be very unappreciative; but she only said:

"You seem to have forgotten what Ned said of his brother, that his love of the beautiful was so intense, he doubted whether he would ever want to leave the scenery and surroundings here."

"That was simply one of Mr. Rutherford's extravagant expressions," Lyle replied, "the natural surroundings here are certainly beautiful, but their beauty only makes the conditions mentally and morally the more painfully conspicuous, and if I can see the contrast so plainly, who have always lived here and known no other life, how must it look to one such as he!"

"Why do you always insist upon it so strongly that you have never known any other life than this?" inquired Miss Gladden.

"Why?" asked Lyle, in surprise, "I suppose simply because it is a fact, the one hateful truth that I despise, and so I say it over and over to myself, to check these foolish dream-fancies of mine, that seem as if I had known something better sometime."

Lyle spoke with more bitterness than Miss Gladden had ever heard before, and the latter answered gently:

"If I were in your place, Lyle dear, I would not try to check these fancies; I would encourage them."

Lyle gazed at her friend in astonishment. "Encourage them!" she repeated, "I don't understand your meaning, why would you advise that?"

"To see to what they would lead, my dear." Then, as Lyle looked bewildered, she continued:

"Did it never occur to you, Lyle, that these fancies, as you call them, might possibly be an effort on the part of memory to recall something, long ago forgotten?"

"I never thought of such a possibility," she replied, slowly.

Miss Gladden threw one arm about her caressingly.

"If these were mere fancies why should they occur so persistently, and why should there be this sense of familiarity, of which you have spoken, with other and far different associations than these, unless there is some distinct image hidden away in the recesses of your brain, which your mind is trying to recall?"

Lyle had grown very pale; she had caught the idea which Miss Gladden was trying to convey, and her form trembled, while her lips and delicate nostrils quivered with suppressed agitation.

"Leslie," she cried, "do you mean that you think it possible there is any reality in it,—that I have ever known a different life from this,—a life anything like that which seems to come back to me?"

"I think it not only possible, but probable," said her friend, drawing the trembling girl closer to herself, "and that is why I want you to encourage these impressions, and see if you will not, after a time, be able to recall the past more definitely."

"But why do you believe this?" questioned Lyle, "How did you ever think of it?"

"When you first told me of your fancies, as you called them, and of your dreams, constantly recurring since your earliest childhood, I felt that they must be produced by something that had really occurred, some time in the past, but perhaps so long ago that only the faintest impression was left upon your mind; but however faint, to me it seemed proof that the reality had existed. The more I have questioned you, the more I have become convinced of this, and I find I am not alone in my opinion."

"Have you talked with Jack, and does he think as you do?" Lyle questioned. Miss Gladden answered in the affirmative.

"Is that the reason he has asked me so often regarding my early life?"

"Yes, he has questioned you, hoping you might be able to recall something of those years which you say seem to you only a blank. We can only surmise regarding your early life, but if you could recall some slight incident, or some individual, it might prove whether our surmises were correct." Then, as Lyle remained silent, Miss Gladden continued:

"That face which you always see in your dreams, must be the face of some one you have really seen and known."

"Yes," Lyle answered dreamily, "I have often thought of that, and have tried to remember when, or where, it could have been."

For a few moments, both were silent; Lyle, in her abstraction, loosened her hair, and it fell around her like a veil of fine-spun gold. An idea suddenly occurred to Miss Gladden, and rising from her chair, she gathered up the golden mass, and began to rearrange and fasten it, Lyle scarcely heeding her action, so absorbed was she in thought.

When she had completed her work, she looked critically at Lyle for a moment, and seeming satisfied with the result, asked her to look in the glass. Half mechanically, Lyle did as requested, but at the first glance at the face reflected there, she uttered a low cry, and stood as if transfixed. Miss Gladden had arranged her hair in a style worn nearly twenty years before, and in imitation of the photograph which Jack had shown her. The effect was magical, as it showed Lyle's face to be an exact counterpart of the beautiful pictured face.

To Lyle it revealed much more, for to her astonished gaze there was brought back, with life-like distinctness and realism, the face of her dreams; the one which she had seen bending tenderly over her since her earliest recollection, and which had seemed so often to comfort her in the days of her childish griefs when she had sobbed herself to sleep.

Suddenly, Miss Gladden saw the face in the glass grow deathly white, and Lyle, quickly turning toward her friend, exclaimed:

"I see it now! That is my mother's face that I have seen in my dreams! And I have seen it living some time, somewhere, but not here. These people are not my parents; I am no child of theirs. Oh, Leslie, tell me, is this true?"

Very gently Miss Gladden soothed the excited girl, telling her that while her friends knew nothing as yet, for a certainty, regarding her parentage, they felt that she, in her early life, had had a home and surroundings far different from those she knew here, and that they hoped ere long, with her help, to arrive at the whole truth.

"But how did I ever come to live here with these people?" inquired Lyle, a new fear dawning in her eyes, "do you suppose they were hired to take me?"

"No, never," said Miss Gladden, "as nearly as we can judge, you must have been stolen."

"And do you think my own parents are now living?" she asked.

So far as she was able to do so, Miss Gladden explained the situation, as Jack had told it to her, making no reference, however, to what he had said regarding the possibility of Lyle's friends coming to the mountains, where they would be likely to recognize her. Of this, Miss Gladden herself understood so little, she thought best not to allude to it now.

"But why has Jack never told me of this, and of my mother? He must have known her," said Lyle.

"You must remember, dear, that he had no proof that any such relation really existed; as I understood him, he with others, supposed that this child was not living, but he was struck with the resemblance between you and the mother of this child, and the relationship occurred to him at first as the merest possibility, but grew almost to a certainty, as the resemblance between you increased; and yet, you can see that under the circumstances, while you were under the control and in the power of these people, it would not be best to say anything until he had some proof as to your identity."

"I see," Lyle answered, thoughtfully, "but now that I remember her as my mother, do you suppose that he would talk with me about her, or help me to find my true relatives?"

"I hardly know how to answer you," said Miss Gladden slowly, "there is some mystery about it all, dear, that I do not understand; he might perhaps talk more freely with you, but with me he appeared willing to say very little regarding your mother, or your friends. Still, he gave me a hint, so vague and shadowy I scarcely understood it, but to the effect that he thought there might, before long, be an opportunity for a meeting between you and those whom he believed to be your friends."

"Well," said Lyle, after a pause, "Jack is a true friend to me, he knows what is best, and I can afford to wait with even such a possibility to look forward to. I will not wait in idleness either, I shall try to find some clue, some evidence as to who I really am, and something tells me I will succeed." Then she added tenderly, "Do you know, I believe, whoever my mother may have been, Jack must have loved her."

"She certainly was very dear to him," replied Miss Gladden.

They talked till far into the morning hours, and as they finally separated for the night, Lyle approached her friend, and throwing her arms about her neck, she exclaimed, almost in tears:

"Oh, Leslie, you can never know how glad I am that you have shown me this, and shown it to me to-night! I have felt so disgraced, so degraded by the life here, it seemed as if I were a part of it all, a part of my own hateful surroundings but now, I know I am not; now," she continued, lifting her head proudly and raising her arms slowly with a beautiful gesture, "they can fetter me no longer! The chains that have held me so long and so cruelly are already bursting; even now, I can rise above them; soon, I shall be free!"



CHAPTER XXXVI.

Do coming events cast their shadows before? Did the silently-waving pinions of the angel who "troubled the waters" give any hint of his beneficent approach? However that may be, certain it is that on the morning of the day in which the hitherto untroubled depths of Lyle's womanly nature were to be stirred by the mightiest of influences, there came to her a prescience, thrilling and vibrating through her whole being, that this day was to be the crisis, the turning point of her life. On that day, she was to meet one whose influence upon her own life she felt would be far greater than that of any human being she could recall.

Lyle was not in love. As yet, she knew nothing of what love might be, but she possessed rare depth of feeling. In her lonely, secluded life, she had known few emotions, but those few were deep and lasting; and when, a few months before, she had incidentally seen the photograph of Morton Rutherford,—only one among many, all unknown to her,—it had left an impression upon her heart and brain, never to be effaced.

His was no ordinary face; it would attract the most casual observer, and to one gifted with Lyle's wonderful insight and perception, and possessing her fine susceptibilities, there would be revealed such rare strength and beauty of mind and character combined, that, once seen, it might not be easily forgotten.

To Lyle, in her isolation, it seemed a glimpse of a kindred soul, and she had often wondered what the living face itself might be, and what acquaintance and friendship with such a soul might mean. She had looked forward to his coming to the camp with mingled pleasure and dread. She thoroughly understood the position which she held in the estimation of the younger Mr. Rutherford; would his brother regard her with the same half pitying, half patronizing admiration? Would her narrow, restricted life seem so small and poor to him, with his superior attainments, that he would altogether ignore her? Or would he be able, like Mr. Houston and Miss Gladden, to overlook her hateful and hated environment, and help her rise above it?

These were the questions which for the past few weeks had perplexed and troubled her; but the revelation which had come to her on the previous night had changed the whole current of her thought. What matter now, how mean or debasing her surroundings, since no taint from them could attach itself to her? What matter if her life had been cramped and restricted, since she was soon to rise above it into the life for which she had been created? Perhaps her natural sphere was not, after all, so unlike that in which her friends moved, to which even he was accustomed, the stranger, whose coming she now anticipated with a strange, unaccountable thrill of expectation. Would he, with that wonderful power which she felt he possessed, to elevate or to crush the souls with whom he came in contact, would he recognize her true sphere, as her other friends had done, or would he be blinded by her surroundings?

She could not rest; she rose and looked forth upon the glorious dawn of the new day, and was impressed as never before, with the beauty of the vision which met her eyes. To her, it seemed like the dawning of a new epoch in her life; nay, more than that, like the dawning of a new life itself.

Impatient of restraint, she left the house, and went out into the morning fresh from the hand of the Creator, as yet undefiled by contact with human life. Hastily climbing a series of rocky ledges, she reached a broad plateau, and looked about her. The life which she had so hated and despised seemed suddenly to have dropped forever out of sight, and she was conscious only of a new beauty, a new glory surrounding her.

The mountains, blushing in the first rosy light, lifted their gleaming, glory-crowned spires heavenward; the cascades chanted in thunderous, yet rhythmic tones, their unceasing anthem of praise, their snow-white spray ascending skyward, like clouds of incense, while the little flowers, clinging to rock and ledge and mountain-side, turned their sweet faces upward in silent adoration. The place seemed pervaded by a spirit of universal adoration and praise, and instinctively, Lyle bowed her head in silent worship; and as she did so, there came to her, as though revealed by the lightning's flash, the vision of her mother kneeling beside her, in those dim days so long ago, clasping her tiny hands within her own, and teaching her baby lips to lisp the words of prayer.

For a long time she knelt in that temple made without hands, till mountain and valley were bathed in glorious sunlight; and when at last, she descended the rocky footpath, she felt, as she looked forth upon the new life opening before her, no fear, no shrinking, but strong to go forward and meet her destiny, whatever it might be.

All were impressed that morning by Lyle's manner, the added dignity of bearing, the new expression that looked forth from her soulful eyes, though none but Miss Gladden understood the cause.

At the breakfast table, the final plans were made for the reception of the guests to arrive that day. Word had been received that they were already in Silver City, and would come out on the noon train. Houston had telegraphed to the Y for the best team there to be in readiness to bring them up to the camp, and an hour or so before noon, he and Van Dorn were to take two horses and ride to the Y to meet them, and accompany them on their ride up the canyon. A late dinner was to be served upon their arrival, when the two ladies would be present, as Lyle no longer acted in the capacity of waiter, Miss Gladden having some time before insisted that she should preside at the table, and the blushing Miss Bixby, after much painstaking effort, having been finally educated up to the point of performing that ceremony very creditably.

"Everard," said Miss Gladden after breakfast, as Houston stopped for his customary chat with her before starting out on his daily routine, "did you observe Lyle this morning? I never saw her look so lovely;" adding playfully, "I wonder you did not fall in love with her, she is far more beautiful than I."

"Allow me to be judge," he replied, "though I will admit that I think she grows more beautiful every day. But as to falling in love with her, I doubt if I would have done that even had I not met you. From the first she has seemed to me unaccountably like a sister; I cannot explain why, unless it was because of that child-like, almost appealing manner she had at that time. She has none of it now, however, she is developing very rapidly into a noble womanhood, and yet I still have the same feeling toward her, and I think she regards me as a brother."

"That is true," said Miss Gladden, "she cares for you more than for any of the others, but only, as you say, as a brother. Her heart does not seem to be very susceptible."

"She may be none the less susceptible," Houston replied, "but she realizes her position here, and she is far too proud spirited to carry her heart upon her sleeve."

Miss Gladden then related to Houston the events oi the preceding night, and Lyle's sudden recollection of her own mother. He was much interested.

"I am more than glad," he replied, "doubtless the memory of her early childhood will gradually come back to her, and we may be able to ascertain her true parentage. I hope so, at least, for I believe Maverick to be an out and out scoundrel, capable of any villainy, and I would like to see him brought to justice."

The room set apart for the expected guests, as well as the dining-room, was decorated with wild flowers and trailing vines, and in this pleasant employment, and the preparation of a few dainty dishes for the table, the forenoon passed swiftly.

The noon train had scarcely come to a stop at the little station at the Y, when Ned Rutherford was seen rushing impetuously from the car, his camera case as usual in one hand, at sight of which the two young men waiting on the platform burst into a hearty laugh.

"There he is," said Houston, "the same old Ned!"

"The very same old boy!" added Van Dorn, as they hastened to meet him.

"Hullo, Everard!" cried Ned, jumping upon the platform, "I say, but it seems mighty good to see you again! How are you, Van Dorn?"

"How are you, Ned?" said Van Dorn, extending his hand, "we wouldn't have known you if it hadn't been for that camera box of yours!"

"That so?" answered Ned, good-naturedly, "well, I always considered it indispensable, but I didn't suppose my identity would be lost without it."

Meanwhile, Houston had hastened to meet the elder brother, and it could readily be seen that they were more than ordinary friends.

"Everard, old fellow!" he exclaimed, in response to Houston's greeting, "this is the greatest pleasure I've had in many a day. I never dreamed that the Houston of whom Ned wrote such glowing accounts was my old friend."

"I used to think sometimes," said Houston, "when Ned was writing you, that I would like to send you some reminder of old times, a college password or signal that you would understand; but at that time, I didn't know Ned very well, and of course I was anxious to conceal my identity here."

"That was right," said the elder Rutherford, with a comical glance at his brother, "Ned is rather injudicious, he belongs to that unfortunate class of people, with the best of intentions, who usually succeed in doing as much mischief as others with the worst."

"Right you are there," said Ned, "I'm always putting my foot in it one way or another; I wouldn't advise anybody to make a confidant of me, I'd give them away sure. I say, Everard," he continued, while his brother and Van Dorn exchanged cordial greetings, "how are you getting on, and how is the Buncombe-Boomerang combination?"

"We have been very successful so far, everything is nearly in readiness, and the combination as you call it, cannot exist much longer; we will give you full particulars later."

"And how are the ladies?" Ned inquired further.

"They are well, and waiting to give you and your brother a royal welcome."

"Thank you," Morton Rutherford replied, "I am quite anxious to meet them, Ned, of course, can speak for himself."

"That he can, and generally does when the right time comes," responded that individual, "you will find I am a universal favorite here, in the camp of the Philistines."

In a little while they were on their way to camp, Houston and Morton Rutherford occupying the back seat of the light, canopy-top wagon, while Van Dorn and Ned took the forward seat with the driver, the horses and baggage following with one of the mining teams.

Morton Rutherford gave his friend a glowing account of his journey through the west, dwelling at considerable length on his enjoyment of the scenic routes. As they wound upward through the canyon, he grew ecstatic over the wild beauty and rugged grandeur extending in every direction, and when they finally drew rein before the long, low boarding house, nestling at the foot of the mountain, with its rustic, vine-covered porch, and surrounded on all sides by the wild scenery of that region, his admiration knew no bounds.

"What a delightful retreat!" he exclaimed, "what a study for an artist!"

Within the porch, among the vines, the ladies awaited their coming, and Lyle, looking forth from her shady retreat, saw the face whose image had been imprinted on heart and brain, and at a glance she read all she had expected to find, and more. There were the fine features, expressing such depth and power, and yet such delicacy of thought and feeling, the intellectual brow, the dark, expressive eyes, all as she had seen them in the picture; but what picture could convey the living beauty of the whole? It was the face of one whom women would worship, and men would follow even to death.

The gentlemen approached the house, Houston and his friend leading the way. Miss Gladden advanced to meet them, and as Houston introduced Mr. Rutherford, she extended to him a most gracious and graceful welcome, and also to Ned. Her gown was white, of soft, clinging material, trimmed with quantities of rich, rare lace, and brightened here and there with touches of crimson and gold. She wore a few costly jewels, and the diamond hilt of a tiny dagger glistened and scintillated in her auburn-tinted hair. She looked very beautiful, and as Mr. Rutherford paused to respond to her welcome with a few courteous words, he thought his friend was surely to be congratulated on the prize he had won.

Meanwhile, Ned had discovered Lyle, as she stood partially hidden among the vines, awaiting her turn, and hastened to greet her in his impetuous fashion.

"How do you do, Miss Maverick? I'm awfully glad to see you. I want you to know my brother," and his cheerful voice sounded on his brother's ear, as he replied to some remark of Miss Gladden's.

"Morton, I want to introduce you to our nightingale; Miss Maverick, allow me to make you acquainted with my brother."

With a rare smile lighting up his face, Morton Rutherford turned toward the speaker, and as he did so, saw a vision of the most royal young womanhood his eyes had ever beheld. She, too, was dressed in white, but it was a filmy, cloud-like mass, with trimmings of ethereal blue. She wore no jewels, but a crown of golden hair gleamed like a coronet above her head, and her delicately molded face had a spirituelle beauty and radiance unlike any living face he had ever seen, and which he could only compare to the exquisite Madonna faces, painted by artists of the old world, and of the olden time.

And Lyle, coming forward with unconscious, queenly grace, looked for an instant into that face whose subtle power she already felt, her wondrous, starry eyes, luminous with a new, strange light, meeting his with their depth of meaning, their powerful magnetism, and from that brief instant, life for each was changed, wholly and completely; whether for good or ill, for weal or woe, neither as yet could say.



CHAPTER XXXVII.

It was a very congenial little company that somewhat later gathered about the dinner table. There were no outsiders present on this occasion to check their conversation, and the room resounded with merry laughter as the young men related various reminiscences of their college days, or as Lyle gave her eastern friends some amusing glimpses of western life.

Morton Rutherford added his share to the general enjoyment, as he gave in an inimitable manner which fascinated his listeners, sketches of places and people he had met in his western journey; but a close observer would have noticed that his dark eyes often wandered to the face of the fair hostess, presiding at the table with such dignity, and his thoughts much of the time were far removed from the subject of conversation.

Of the strange, wild tumult in Lyle's breast there was no token, save in her heightened color, and the added brilliancy of her eyes.

The plain, but wholesome mountain fare disappeared rapidly before the appetites sharpened by the bracing air of that altitude, and still the little company lingered at the table, loath to tear themselves away.

Plans were made for a few days and evenings of genuine enjoyment, before proceeding any further with the business in which all were so deeply interested. Houston and Van Dorn would of course be more or less confined by their work, and it was voted that, during the day, Mr. Rutherford should be entertained by the ladies, or, as the hunting and fishing season had now opened, he and Ned would be able to find considerable sport in the surrounding country. But the evenings were to be spent by the entire party in visits to the different points of interest and beauty already familiar to some of their number.

"And one of the first places to visit," said Ned Rutherford, at this point in the conversation, "will be the cascades; we will go out there in boats, you know, with the guitar and violin, and have music just as we did the first time we ever went out. Great Scott! but I never will forget that night as long as I live!"

"With the ladies' approval, that will be one of our first trips," said Houston.

"You play and sing, do you not, Mr. Rutherford?" Miss Gladden inquired, addressing the elder brother.

"Yes, occasionally," he answered, with a peculiar smile.

"What instrument do you use?"

"I can accompany myself on several different instruments," he replied, "but the violin is my favorite; it is capable of more expression than most others."

At last the little party adjourned to the porch, and Lyle, under the pretext of some household duties, excused herself, and escaped to her own little room. Here her forced composure gave way, and her highly wrought feelings found relief in a passionate burst of tears, though why she wept, she could not have told.

Unconsciously to herself, perhaps, Morton Rutherford had of late become the hero of her thoughts, partially on account of her high estimate of him, and also because of the sympathy which she felt would exist between them in taste and thought and feeling. She had dreamed of a friendship with him, perhaps more perfect and helpful than any she had yet known; but they had met, and in that one glance had been revealed to her a natural affinity deeper than any of which she had ever dreamed, and the impossibility of a calm, Platonic friendship between kindred spirits such as theirs.

Unconsciously to herself, Lyle had that day crossed the great divide, and womanhood, with its dower of love and joy, of pain and suffering, was henceforth hers. The mightiest element in her nature, which had lain dormant all these years, its power unsuspected even by herself, was now aroused, and even while she felt the throbbing of its new life, as yet, she knew not its name. She was young, her observation and her experience had been limited, and there had been no one to prepare her for the certain awakening of this mighty power, before whose conquering sway all else must yield.

She grew more calm, and as she reviewed the few friendships she had known,—the helpful kindness and tenderness of Jack in whom she had confided her childish griefs, the chivalry of Everard Houston, who from the first had constituted himself her champion and protector, and even the pleasant kindliness of Ned Rutherford, whom she scarcely deemed more than an acquaintance,—there was suddenly revealed to her quickened perception the distinction between friendship and love, and instantly she recognized the stranger who had taken possession of her heart: Love had come. Love was to be henceforth king, and she stood trembling and abashed in the presence of the new sovereign. Her tears flowed silently, but she was far from unhappy; love, even unknown and unreciprocated, brings its own sweet reward.