Peveril's heart leaped at the sound of her voice, and he received two other distinct thrills of delight from her father's incoherent words. One was when he addressed the slight figure at his side as "Mary," and the other was caused by his mention of the Copper Princess. By the first Peveril's recently aroused suspicion concerning the sex of the wearer of that golf costume was reduced to a certainty, while by the other he gained his first clue to the mine of which he was in search.

At the moment, however, these things merely flashed through his mind; for he realized that the present was neither the time nor the place to discuss them. The two helpless ones, so wonderfully intrusted to his care, must be removed at once from the place in which they had suffered so keenly. Both he and the major agreed that it would be best to take them out by way of the shaft, and though they were full of curiosity as to how the Darrells came into their distressing position, both manfully refrained from asking questions until they had escorted them to the entrance. For this forbearance the major deserved even greater credit than his young friend; for as yet he had no knowledge of who the strangers were, nor how it happened that they seemed to know Peveril.



Arrived at the shaft, it was decided that the major should ascend first, to prepare those at the top for what was coming, as well as to receive the old man, who would be sent up next. As he adjusted the rope about his body, he whispered to Peveril, who was assisting him:

"Who are they?"

"Darrells," was the laconic answer.

"Not old man Darrell of the 'Folly'?"

"Yes."

"And his daughter?"

"I believe so," replied the young man, at the same time wondering how the other had discovered so quickly the rightful sex of the apparent lad.

"But how on earth do they happen to know you?"

"They ought to, seeing that the old man has shot at me twice; while Miss Darrell and I have met several times, and on one occasion, at least, she saved my life."

"Whew! No wonder you greet each other like old friends," rejoined the major, as he swung off over the black pool and began slowly to ascend the ancient shaft.

When the rope was again lowered it brought some bits of stout cord for which Peveril had asked, and with these he fastened the old man so securely into the loop that there was no possibility of his falling out. Although Ralph Darrell was still highly excited and talked constantly, he readily agreed to every proposition made by his daughter, and offered no objection to going up the shaft.

As he swung out from the platform, and those above began to hoist on the rope, his daughter bent anxiously forward to note his progress. Apparently unconscious of her own danger, she leaned out farther and farther, until Peveril, fearful lest she should lose her balance and plunge into the pool, reached an arm about her waist and held her.

The girl was so intent upon watching her father that for a moment she paid no attention to this. Then, suddenly becoming conscious of the strong support against which she was leaning, she stepped quickly back to a position of safety.

"I didn't suppose you would think it necessary to take such care of a boy," she said, with an attempt at dignity.

"I shouldn't," laughed Peveril; "but why didn't you tell me yesterday that you were a young lady, and that your name was Mary?"

"I don't remember that you asked me."

"That's so. It was you who asked all the questions and I who answered them. So now it is my turn."

"I sha'n't promise to answer, though."

"Oh, but you must; for there are some things that I am extremely anxious to know. For instance, why do you dress in boy's costume?"

"Because my father wished me to."

"An excellent reason. Now I want to know if 'Darrell's Folly' and the Copper Princess are one and the same mine?"

"I believe the Copper Princess has been called by that other name, which, however, I will thank you not to repeat in my presence."

"All right, I won't; but tell me—"

"Here is the rope, Mr. Peveril, and, thanking you over and over again for your very great kindness, I will bid you au revoir," said the girl, hurriedly adjusting the loop and preparing to ascend.

There was never a more amazed or abashed man in this world than was Mike Connell when the "young lady" whom he, full of curiosity, was helping to hoist from the old shaft made her appearance, and he discovered her to be the "lad" whom he had treated with such freedom the evening before. He was so staggered that he could not utter a word, but simply stared at her with an expression in which mortification and admiration were equally blended.

The moment the girl gained a footing on the surface she made a comprehensive little bow to the men assembled about the shaft-mouth, and said:

"My father and I thank you, gentlemen, from overflowing hearts, for your great kindness to us, and shall hope to see you at our home for supper, after you have been rejoined by Mr. Peveril. Come, papa, let us go and make ready for company." With this she led the old man away in the direction of his "Folly."

Half an hour later the four men from White Pine were received at the door of the Darrell house by a dignified young lady, simply but becomingly dressed in the usual costume of her sex. Looking directly at one of them, she said:

"I bid you welcome, Mr. Peveril, to your own Copper Princess."



CHAPTER XXVII

A NIGHT WITH A MADMAN

When left alone at the bottom of the ancient shaft, with the impenetrable gloom of the prehistoric workings crowding him close, Peveril had found a few minutes in which to reflect upon the strange happenings of the past half-hour. "Darrell's Folly" was the Copper Princess, the mine in which he owned a half-interest—the one for which he had searched so long and had almost given up hopes of finding. Was it of any value? Or did the name, applied in derision, rightly describe it? And the old man who had twice attempted to take his life, whom he had just rescued from a living tomb, was his partner! How could they ever work harmoniously together? He certainly should not agree to the carrying on of further smuggling operations, and so there was a barrier to their amicable relations at the very outset.

But was that man the person with whom he would have to deal, after all? He was evidently crazy, and probably had been from the very first; for Peveril now remembered that Mr. Ketchum had hinted at something of the kind during their last interview. As a crazy man could not legally transact business, his dealings would then be with Ralph Darrell's heirs or legal representatives. Who were those heirs? Were there any other besides this daughter, Mary? He hoped not. What a brave, splendid girl she was, and how pleasant it would be to discuss business plans with her! How absurd of him not to have recognized her at once, even in her boyish costume, and how stupid she must think him!

He wished those fellows up above had not been in such a hurry with that rope, for there were a lot more questions he wanted to ask her. So many that he would not have objected if he and she had been left down there together ever so much longer. How different the old mine seemed now to what it had when he first knew it! Hereafter it would always be associated in his mind with memories of a slight figure that he had been permitted to hold for a single minute, a flushed face, a pair of glorious eyes, and a voice that he should never forget. How shy she was, and at the same time how dignified; how sweet and womanly in her anxiety about her father! He hoped they could be friends, as all business partners should be. Of course they could never be anything more than that; for he was not forgetting his obligation to Rose—oh no, not for one minute.

How infernally slow those chaps up above were now, and why didn't they let down the rope? Were they going to keep him waiting in that beastly hole forever? It really seemed so.

By a simple process of reasoning, and the putting together of the various bits of information gained from her father, Mary Darrell had reached the conclusion that the young man whose fortunes had been so strangely interwoven with hers during the past ten days was the rightful owner of the mine that her father had claimed for so many years. She was too loyal to the latter to believe for a moment that he had consciously attempted to defraud Peveril of his rights, but credited all his actions to the sad mental condition of which she had only now become aware.

"Poor, dear papa!" she said to herself. "He has done splendidly to take care of me for so long as he has, and now I will take care of him. We will go away from this horrid place, where he gets so excited, and find some little home in the East, where he can rest until his mind is wholly restored.

"In the meantime this Mr. Peveril can have the old mine, to do with as he pleases. I shall let him know that we consider it his property before he has a chance to even make a claim against it. I mustn't let him see for a moment how badly we feel about it, though, for he seems very nice, and has certainly placed us under a great obligation by coming to our rescue so splendidly. I wonder how he knew that papa and I were down in that awful place?"

Having got her father to his room, told Aunty Nimmo to prepare for company, and hurriedly changed her dress, Mary Darrell greeted the expected guests according to her privately arranged programme, and invited them in to supper. After seeing them seated at the table and provided with a bountiful meal, she left them on the plea that her father needed her attention.

The girl had not been gone many minutes, and Peveril's friends were still congratulating him upon having come into his fortune, at the same time speculating whether the "Folly" was worth anything or not, when she re-entered the room with a frightened expression on her face. Addressing herself to Major Arkell, she said:

"Would you mind coming up to see my father, sir? I fear he is very ill."

The major at once complied with this request, and, after he had gone, Captain Spillins said: "I shouldn't wonder if the old fellow played out and left you in sole possession of the Princess, after all, Mr. Peveril."

"Which Princess are you meanin', captain?" asked Mike Connell. "Sure it seems to me there's two of them."

"Have a care, Connell," said Peveril, warningly. "Remember the circumstances under which we are here."

"I beg your pardon, Mister Peril," exclaimed the Irishman, contritely; "I'd near forgot that you was already bespoke."

A hot flush sprang to the young man's cheek, but ere he could frame a reply Major Arkell reappeared, looking greatly worried.

"Boys," he said, "we've a very serious case on our hands, and one that demands immediate action. The old man up-stairs is fairly out of his head, besides being in a high fever. He needs medical attendance as quickly as it can be got to him, and careful nursing. I have given him an opiate, which I hope will keep him quiet for a while, and now I propose to go to Red Jacket in the tug for a doctor and a nurse. Captain Spillins will, of course, go with me, and we shall try to be back by morning. In the meantime the poor young lady must not be left alone, or with only that old aunty, who is nearly frightened out of her wits, and so I think you, Peveril, ought to stay here with Connell and do what you can. You are, in a sense, the proprietor here, you know, and as Connell has also been here before, maybe the old man will be more reasonable with you than he would be with entire strangers."

"I quite agree with you that some of us ought to stay here and do what we can," said Peveril; "and, under the circumstances, I suppose Connell and I are the ones to do so. At the same time, I haven't had much experience in caring for madmen."

"No more have I," said Connell, "but I'll do me best, for sake of the young lady, and maybe she'll forgive me for treating her the same as I would a lad."

"And, major," added Peveril, "if you will kindly fetch my luggage from the Trefethen's I shall be greatly obliged."

So the party separated; and, while two of them wended their way back to the tug at Laughing Fish, the others prepared for the long vigil of the night.

After the effect of the opiate had passed, their patient was seized with paroxysms of raving and frantic efforts to leave his bed for the purpose of protecting his property. At such times it required the united efforts of the two volunteer nurses to restrain him, and after each attack he was left weak and helpless as an infant. Then he would weep, and beg piteously not to be abandoned to the mercy of his enemies; or he would fancy himself still in the awful blackness of the ancient workings, and plead with his attendants not to be left thereto die.

"For the sake of my daughter, gentlemen—my only child—who has no one else in the world to love her or care for her, I beg of you to save me. If you are human, take pity on her and let me go!" he would cry.

At such times no voice, not even Mary's, seemed to soothe him as did that of Peveril, and his most violent struggles were controlled by the gentle firmness of the young athlete.

All through that dreadful night Mary Darrell watched Peveril with tear-filled eyes, wondering at his strength and gentleness, and unconsciously loving him for them. Not that she would for an instant have admitted such a thing even to herself. She tried instead to believe that he was the cause of all this sorrow, and that she hated him for it. "In whatever he does," she said to herself, "he is actuated by remorse, and a desire to atone in some way for ruining my father's life."

The anxiously awaited dawn found Ralph Darrell lying quietly with closed eyes and Peveril keeping wakeful watch beside him. Aunty Nimmo had been sent to her bed long since, and Connell was fast asleep on the floor of the hall just outside the sick-room door. Mary Darrell sat in an easy-chair, overcome by exhaustion, also sleeping lightly.

As the growing light fell on her tear-stained face, crowned by a wealth of close-clipped hair curling in tiny ringlets, Peveril looked at her curiously, and wondered why he had never thought her beautiful until that moment. Apparently conscious of the young man's gaze, the girl suddenly opened her eyes, and a faint flush suffused her pale cheeks. Ere either she or Peveril could speak, the muffled sound of a steam-whistle broke the morning stillness.

"Our friends have come, Miss Darrell," whispered the watcher. "You have just time to go to your room and refresh yourself with a dash of cold water before they appear."

Nodding assent, the girl accepted the suggestion and departed.

Then Peveril sent Connell to meet the new-comers, who, as he knew, would steam directly into the land-locked basin, and remained to finish his vigil alone.

Suddenly, as he sat absorbed in meditation, the madman, who had been watching through half-closed eyes, sprang upon him without a sound of warning and clutched his throat with a vise-like grip.

Not even the utmost exertion of Peveril's splendid strength served to loose that horrid hold. In silence he fought for his life, until he grew black in the face and his eyes started from their sockets. His head seemed on the point of bursting. He reeled, staggered, and then, together with his terrible assailant, fell heavily to the floor. As they did so, the old man's head struck on a sharp corner; he uttered a moan, and at last the deadly clutch on Peveril's throat was relaxed.

With his next moment of consciousness Peveril was sitting on the floor gasping for breath, and Ralph Darrell lay motionless beside him in a pool of blood. Then came quick steps on the stair, and Mary Darrell, accompanied by Major Arkell and the doctor from Red Jacket, entered the room.

For an instant the girl stared horror-stricken at the scene before her. Then she darted forward and clasped her father's body in her arms, crying out as she did so:

"You have killed him, Richard Peveril!—killed an old man, sick and helpless; robbed him of his all, and then murdered him! Oh, papa!—dear, dear papa! Why did I leave you for a single minute?"

"My! How she hates poor Mr. Peril!" whispered Nelly Trefethen, who had come to act as nurse, and who, guided by Mike Connell, reached the doorway in time to witness the tableau, as well as to hear Mary Darrell's cruel words.



CHAPTER XXVIII

LEFT IN SOLE POSSESSION

Although Ralph Darrell was to all appearance dead, the doctor pronounced him to be still alive, and caused him to be lifted back to the bed, where he dressed his wound, at the same time administering restoratives. While this was being done, Major Arkell, taking charge of Peveril, led him to another room, in which his things, brought from the Trefethen house, had been placed. The young man was still trembling from his recent awful experience.

"In another minute all would have been over with me," he said, in describing the incident to his friend. "For I could no more loosen his clutch than if it had been a band of steel."

"That fall was a mighty lucky thing, then," commented the other.

"Yes, I suppose it was, for apparently nothing else could have saved me. At the same time, think how unpleasant it would have been for me if it had killed him, and I had been charged with his murder!"

"Oh, pshaw! no one would have imagined such a thing."

"His daughter did," replied Peveril, in whose ears Mary Darrell's terrible accusation was still ringing.

"She didn't know what she was saying. You must remember the trying circumstances of her position, and forgive and forget everything else. If I am any judge of human character, she is just the girl to bitterly regret her hasty words, if she ever recalls having uttered them."

"Of course I forgive her," said Peveril; "but I doubt if I can forget as long as I live."

A bath in water as hot as he could bear it, followed by a cold douche and a brisk rubbing with the coarse towels procured from Aunty Nimmo, restored the young man to his normal condition. Then he exchanged the ragged garb of a miner, that he had worn ever since leaving Red Jacket, for a suit of his own proper clothing. With this the transformation in his appearance was so complete that when, a little later, Mary Darrell passed him in the hall, it was without recognition. She only regarded him as one of the many strangers who seemed suddenly to have taken unauthorized possession of her home.

At breakfast-time the doctor reported that his patient was sleeping quietly and doing wonderfully well. "In fact," said the medical gentleman, "I believe the blood-letting that resulted from his fall was just what he needed; and, as he seems to have a vigorous constitution, unimpaired by intemperate living, I predict for him a speedy recovery."

This prediction was so far fulfilled that, within two days, Ralph Darrell was sitting up, and, by the end of a week, he had very nearly regained his strength. At the same time his excitability had wholly disappeared, leaving him very quiet and as docile as a child, but with little memory of past happenings. His daughter was the one person whom he recognized, and to her he clung with passionate fondness, readily accepting her every suggestion, but always begging her to take him back to his Eastern home.

His rapid convalescence was largely due to her devoted care, and to the capital nursing of Nelly Trefethen, who proved most efficient in the sick-room. During that week the night-watches were taken by Mike Connell, whom Miss Darrell engaged expressly for the purpose, but Peveril was not asked to share them.

On the few occasions when he and Mary chanced to meet she treated him with formal politeness, but rarely spoke, and never gave him the opportunity of exchanging with her more than a few commonplace remarks. At the same time she watched him furtively, and he seldom left the house or entered it without her knowledge. She had learned his history, so far as Nelly Trefethen knew it, and, by her readiness to listen, encouraged the girl to talk by the hour on this theme.

She also learned one thing about him that was not told her, and that was that he was engaged to be married. One evening Nelly and Connell, coming back from a walk, encountered Peveril near the house, and close under a window at which Mary happened to be standing. As the young man was about to pass them the Irishman stopped him, saying:

"Oh, Mister Peril, would you mind telling Nelly here the thing you told me down the new shaft that time?"

"I don't think I remember what it was."

"About your being bespoke."

"Oh! about my engagement? Yes, I remember now that you did want me to tell Miss Nelly of it, though I am sure I can't imagine why it should interest her."

"Arrah, Mister Peril, don't every young woman be interested to know if she's to smile on a young man or give him the cold stare?"

"If that is the case," laughed Peveril, "I am afraid all the girls must give me the cold stare, for I certainly am engaged; and, by the way, Miss Nelly, do you know if there is a letter awaiting me at your house? I received one from my sweetheart on the very day that I left Red Jacket, and, with most unpardonable carelessness, managed to lose it without having even opened it."

"I don't know, Mr. Peril—I mean, I didn't hear mother, speak of it," stammered the girl, so frightened that for a moment she had no idea of what she was saying. "I do mind, though, seeing one advertised in the post-office with a name something like yours," she added, more coherently.

"Then I must have dropped it on the street, and whoever found it must have been honest enough to return it to the post-office. I will write at once for it, and am much obliged for your information."

Some days later Peveril did write to the Red Jacket postmaster, and received prompt answer that the bit of mail-matter in question had been sent to the dead-letter office. So he wrote to Washington concerning his missing letter, and in due time learned that it had been returned to sender. Then, as he had no idea of "sender's" present address, he decided to wait until hearing from her again before attempting to forward his explanation of how it all happened.

In the meantime he was extremely interested in other affairs that engrossed more and more of his attention. On that very first morning he had shown to Major Arkell several papers that came to him with his baggage. Among these were Boise Carson's letter, lawyer Ketchum's note of identification, and the famous contract under which he claimed a half-ownership in the Copper Princess.

At a later date he also attempted to show these papers to Mary Darrell, but she declined to look at them, saying that, as she did not doubt the validity of his claim, she had no desire to discuss it.

Major Arkell, however, examined the papers carefully, and expressed himself as thoroughly satisfied that his young friend was a half-owner in the mine heretofore known as "Darrell's Folly."

"And now," he said, "let us examine the property, and see whether it is worth anything or not."

So these two set forth on a tour of inspection. They found the several buildings to be in fair order, and all machinery in an excellent state of preservation. Then they descended the shaft and examined the material through which the several galleries had been driven, and which the White Pine manager pronounced as barren even of promise as any rock he had ever seen.

"The trouble seems to be," he said, "that they persistently drifted in exactly the wrong direction, and went away from the true vein—which I believe to be indicated by those ancient workings over yonder—instead of towards it. Thus the engineer who laid out this mine either displayed great ignorance, or else your property does not include that strip of territory. But I'll tell you what we'll do. You stay here and hold the fort for a few days while I go and look the thing up."

"I don't like to have you take so much trouble," protested Peveril.

"No trouble at all, my dear fellow—purely a matter of business. I want, if possible, to become associated with you in this proposition. As it now stands, your mine is worthless, unless it includes, or can be made to include, those old workings. I believe they will make it extremely valuable, for I am persuaded that the vein indicated by them can be reached at a lower level from this very shaft."

So the major took his departure, and Peveril waited a whole week for his return. In the meantime he familiarized himself with his property, and, by means of a careful survey, established the relative positions of the prehistoric mine and the shaft of the Copper Princess.

During this week, as has been said, he saw very little of Mary Darrell, and often wondered how she occupied her time.

Finally there came a day when Miss Darrell informed Mike Connell that, as her father was now so much better, it would no longer be necessary to watch with him at night. So the honest fellow, who had been working hard with Peveril on his measurements, and was rejoiced at the prospect of an unbroken night's rest, retired early to the quarters that he and the young proprietor occupied together at some distance from the Darrells' house.

Very early on the following morning the two men were awakened by a loud knocking at their door, and the voice of Nelly Trefethen calling as though in distress.

"Coming!" shouted Peveril, as they both sprang from bed and hurriedly dressed. As they emerged from the house the girl exclaimed:

"They're gone, Mr. Peril! gone in the night, and I never heard a sound. How they went, no one can tell, for all the outer doors were left locked, with the keys on the inside. But they're gone, for I have hunted high and low without finding a sign of them."

"Who have gone?" demanded Peveril.

"Miss Mary and her father and the old colored woman."

That these three had taken a mysterious departure was only too apparent when the two men returned with Nelly to the house and searched it from top to bottom.

Then, under Connell's guidance, they went through the secret passage to the cavern. There they found a lighted lantern hung on the stunted cedar just outside the entrance, the canvas curtain drawn aside, the derrick swung out, and its tackle hanging down to within a foot of the black ledge, but that was all.

Three months after that time Peveril received the following letter:

"DEAR MR. PEVERIL:

"I feel it a duty to tell you that my dear father has at length passed peacefully away, and so will never trouble you again. At the very last he spoke lovingly of Richard Peveril, and said he was a splendid fellow; but I am inclined to think he referred to your father rather than to yourself. He was also perfectly rational on all subjects except that of the Princess, which he persisted in declaring was one of the richest copper mines of the world. I, of course, know better, for I realized long ago how truly the name 'Darrell's Folly' described that unfortunate venture.

"Whatever pleasure you may find in owning such an unremunerative piece of property you may enjoy without any fear of molestation, for I, as my father's sole heir, shall never lay claim to any share in it, and hereby authorize you to do with it as you think best.

"We have been very happy since we left you so suddenly and unexpectedly. The opportunity for departure came, and we embraced it.

"I have but one more thing to say before closing this one-sided correspondence forever—I humbly beg your pardon and crave your forgiveness for the cruel injustice that I once did you in a moment of agony.

"Trusting that you are happy (I knew of your engagement) and prosperous,

"I remain, always under obligations, your friend,

"MARY DARRELL."

With this letter there was no date nor address, and its only post-mark was the stamp of the railway postal-service on a distant Eastern road.



CHAPTER XXIX

A ROYAL NAME FOR A ROYAL MINE

Peveril was greatly distressed at the unforeseen and mysterious disappearance of the Darrells; for it made him feel as though he had driven them from their home and usurped their rights. The place also seemed very empty and forlorn without Mary Darrell's winning face and all-pervading presence; for, though he had seen but little of her and had reason to believe that she did not feel kindly towards him, he now realized how much his happiness had depended on the knowledge that she was always close at hand.

Then, too, the domestic establishment that ran on so smoothly under the supervision of Aunty Nimmo was completely broken up. Nelly Trefethen must, of course, return at once to Red Jacket, and this she did that very day on Mary Darrell's pony, under escort of Mike Connell, who was only too happy to make the journey on foot. The few men employed by Mr. Darrell having been paid off and discharged, the departure of his two remaining friends left the young proprietor entirely alone, in a place as desolate as though it were beyond the reach of human knowledge. The sky was overcast, making the day dark and cheerless, so that, as Peveril wandered disconsolately about his deserted property, the future looked to him as gloomy as the present.

"There can't be anything in it," he said to himself, as he gazed moodily down the black mouth of the shaft. "Of course, the men who sank a fortune in that hole would have found it out long ago if there were. As for those prehistoric workings on which the major counts so largely, I don't believe but what the old fellows who opened them also made a pretty thorough clean-up of everything in them. Certainly the few small piles of copper that they left behind would not now pay for their removal.

"It has all been very pleasant to dream of becoming a wealthy mine-owner, but the sooner I realize that it is only a dream, and wake from it to the necessity of earning a livelihood by hard work, the better off I shall be. At any rate, I know I won't spend another day alone in this place. If I did, I should go crazy. No wonder old man Darrell lost his mind under the conditions surrounding him. I don't believe Major Arkell will come back, anyway. Why should he, if, as is probable, he has discovered the utter worthlessness of the property? He knows that if he leaves me here alone I must turn up in Red Jacket sooner or later, and thinks the bad news he has to tell will keep until I do. Well, I shall throw the whole thing up to-morrow and go to him for a job. There isn't anything else for it that I can see.

"I guess he will give me something to do, and after a while I shall rise to be a plat-man, or timber boss, or even store-keeper, and then—Well, then I can settle down and marry some nice girl like Nelly Trefethen, perhaps achieve fame as a local politician, and so end my days in a blaze of glory. Oh, it's a lovely prospect! As for poor Rose, there's no use in thinking any longer of her, and the sooner she forgets me the better. Probably she has ere this, and, if so, I can't blame her."

At length the long day dragged itself wearily away, and darkness found Peveril faint with hunger, for he had not had the heart to prepare a dinner, awkwardly attempting to provide himself with something to eat in Aunty Nimmo's kitchen. A single lamp threw a faint ray out from the window, and in all that forlorn little mining village it was the only gleam of light to be seen.

Suddenly there came a clatter of hoofs and a cheery "Hello, the house!"

Instantly forgetful of his culinary operations, Peveril sprang to the door, just in time to fling it open and welcome Major Arkell, who was alighting from a weary-looking horse.

"What will you take for your Copper Princess, my boy?" shouted the new-comer as he entered the room, rubbing his hands and sniffing expectantly at the pleasant odors of cooking with which it was pervaded.

"About five cents," responded Peveril.

"Done! It's a bargain," cried the other. "And we'll settle the details of the transfer after eating the elegant supper that I discover in process of preparation. But you are not cooking half enough. I could eat twice as much as that and still be hungry. Let me show you how. What has become of Aunty Nimmo, that I find you presiding over her domain? Never mind; tell me later, after you've called Connell or some one to look after my horse."

"I will gladly attend to the horse, major, if you will take charge of the cooking," said Peveril, laughing for the first time that day. "You see, I am not an expert at this sort of thing, and—"

"No, I should judge not," interrupted the other, glancing comically at the various burned, lumpy, and muddy failures with which the stove was covered; "but I'll do the trick for you if you will look after the beast."

Half an hour later the two sat down to a bountiful and fairly well-cooked meal that in the major's cheery company seemed to poor, hungry Peveril about as fine a one as he had ever eaten. While it was in progress he told of the happenings of the past week, including the mysterious disappearance of the Darrells; but, as the major did not seem to have any news to impart in return, he concluded that there was none to tell, and so forbore to ask questions.

It was not until after they had finished supper and were sitting before a cheerful blaze in the cosey living-room of the Darrell house that the major said:

"Now for our bargain. Though I could, of course, hold you to that five-cent deal, I won't do so, but will, instead, make an offer of ten thousand dollars for one-half of your half-interest in the Copper Princess."

"What!" gasped Peveril.

"Yes, I mean it; and, in addition, if you will devote that sum to the development of the mine, I will advance an equal amount, or ten thousand dollars more, for the same purpose. Now don't say a word until I have explained the situation. By a careful searching of old records and maps I have discovered that the Princess property not only embraces our prehistoric mine, but extends some distance beyond it. I think I have also found out why those who originally laid out this mine started their cuts on the wrong side of their shaft. They evidently knew that ancient workings existed somewhere in this neighborhood, but they were deceived as to their location, for on all the maps I find them marked, but the place thus indicated is always in the opposite direction from that in which we now know them to lie."

"But—" began Peveril.

"Wait a minute. Of course those old fellows may merely have struck a pocket and exhausted it, but I don't believe so, and am willing to risk twenty thousand dollars on the continuance of the vein. If it is there, that sum of money ought to enable us to reach it from your present shaft; and if we do strike it, why, in the slang of the day, the Copper Princess is simply a 'peach.' Are you game to accept my offer and go in for raising that kind of fruit?"

"I certainly am."

"Good! Shake. The bargain is made, and the sooner we get to work the better."

Ten days from that time sees the legal formalities of that quickly concluded bargain settled, and the mining village of Copper Princess presenting a vastly different appearance from what it did on the melancholy day when Peveril was its sole occupant. All its houses are now occupied, and from every window cheery lights stream out with the coming of evening shadows.

Peveril occupies the comfortable quarters so long ago provided for the manager, and until recently the home of the Darrells. With him lives a young engineer of about his own age, recommended by Major Arkell, and here, too, are the several offices. The nearest cottage to it is that of our old friends the Trefethens—for Mark Trefethen is captain of the mine, and Tom is shaft boss. Mrs. Trefethen and Nelly have their hands full in caring for both these houses and in providing meals for their occupants. Mike Connell is timber boss, and, in timbering the ancient mine, as well as the new workings, is one of the busiest men in the place.

Although he has a cottage of his own, it is still a lonely one, and he is looking eagerly forward to the time when the anxiously expected vein shall be struck. Then, and not until then—and, in case it is not struck at all, perhaps never—will Nelly Trefethen become his wife. So it is no wonder that the impatient fellow descends the shaft each day to anxiously inspect the new work.

With nearly one hundred sturdy miners engaged on it, and the other tasks necessary to its progress, it is driven by night as well as by day, and in reality advances with great rapidity, though to Connell it seems to creep by inches. The great chimney pours forth clouds of smoke, heavy skips hurry up and down the shaft, there is always a cheerful ring of anvils, rafts of logs lie in the land-locked basin, men and teams are to be seen in every direction, and everywhere is heard the inspiring hum of many industries, though as yet not one pound of copper has been brought up from the underground depths.

For weeks and months the work goes on with unabated energy. Peveril, always willing to listen to advice and never ashamed to ask it from those more experienced than himself, is everywhere, seeing to everything and directing everything. Though he is thinner than when we first met him, and his face has taken on an anxious look, it wears at the same time an expression of greater manliness, self-confidence, and determination.

Major Arkell has not yet appeared on the scene in person, and only the young proprietor is known as the responsible head of all this bewildering activity.

It is bewildering to outsiders to see the long-abandoned "Darrell's Folly" suddenly transformed into one of the busiest mining-camps of the copper region, for as yet no one, except Connell and the Trefethens, knows the secret hopes of the proprietors. Even those who are driving the new side-cut far beneath the surface, straight as a die towards the prehistoric mine, though on a much lower level, know not what they are expected to find.

At length three months have passed since the night on which Peveril sold for ten thousand dollars an undivided half of his interest in the Copper Princess. Since that time he has not once left the scene of his labors, his hopes, and his fears. He has not even visited Red Jacket since the morning, that now seems so long ago, when he left it in charge of a gang of log-wreckers. Now the money put into this new venture is very nearly exhausted. It will hold out for one more pay-day, but that is all. And as yet only barren rock has come up from that yawning shaft that seems to gulp down money with an appetite at once inordinate and insatiable.

A huge pile of rock has accumulated about its mouth. If it were copper rock it would be worth a fortune; as it is, it is worse than worthless, for it contains only disappointed hopes. And yet a point directly beneath the ancient workings has been reached and passed. Is the quest a vain one, after all? Is Peveril's as great a folly as Darrell's ever was? It would seem so; and the young proprietor's heart is heavy within him.

He has just received the letter in which Mary Darrell declares the Copper Princess to be a worthless property. With it in his pocket he visits the mouth of the shaft, intending to descend. As he approaches it, a skip containing several men comes to the surface. When they emerge into daylight they are yelling in delirious excitement. One of them leaps out and runs towards him, shouting incoherently. It is Mike Connell.

What had gone wrong? Has there been some terrible accident underground?

"We've struck it, Mister Peril! We've struck the vein, and it's the richest ever knowed!" yells the Irishman. "Here's a specimen. Did ever you see the like? It's gold—nothing less! Hooray for us! Hooray for the Princess! and hooray for Nell Trefethen, that'll be Mrs. Michael Connell this day week, plaze God!"

A few minutes later every cottage in the settlement holds specimens of the wonderful rock glistening with glowing metal. Every man is cheering himself hoarse. The great steam-whistle is shrieking out the glorious news, and Richard Peveril, with heavy pockets, is riding like mad in the direction of Red Jacket. The Copper Princess—a royal name for a royal mine—has at last entered as a power the ranks of the world's wealth-yielding properties.



CHAPTER XXX

PEVERIL ACQUIRES AN UNSHARED INTEREST

An autumn evening two years later finds Richard Peveril seated in the smoking-room of the University, the most thoroughly home-like and comfortable of all New York clubs. He has dined alone, and now, with a tiny cup of black coffee on the stand beside him, is reflectively smoking his after-dinner cigar.

This is his first visit to the East since he left it, more than two years before, almost penniless and wellnigh friendless, on a search for a mine that he was assured would prove worthless when found. Today that same mine is yielding an enormous revenue, of which he receives one-quarter, or a sum vastly in excess of his simple needs, for he is still a bachelor, acting as manager of the Copper Princess, and still makes his home in the little mining settlement on the shore of the great Western lake.

A fortune twice as large as his own, and derived from the same source, lies idle in the vaults of a trust company awaiting a claimant who cannot be found. Her name is Mary Darrell, and though from the very first Peveril has guarded her interests more jealously than his own, and though he has made every effort to discover her, her fortune still awaits its owner.

He has not only been disappointed at the non-success of his efforts in this direction, but is deeply hurt that the girl, who has been so constantly in his thoughts during his two years of loneliness, should so persistently ignore him. That she has occupied so great a share of his time for thinking is due largely to the fact that there is no one else to take a like place, for Rose Bonnifay long since released him from his engagement to her, and he has contracted no other.

As soon as he believed his fiancee to be in New York, he wrote her a long letter descriptive of his good-fortune and promising very soon to rejoin her for the fulfilling of his engagement. To his amazement it was promptly returned to him, endorsed on the outside in Miss Bonnifay's well-known handwriting.

"As my last to you came back to me unopened, I now take pleasure in returning yours in the same condition."

He immediately wrote again, only to have his second letter treated as the first had been, except that this time it came to him without a word. From that day he had heard nothing further from Rose Bonnifay.

Now business had called him to New York, and he had reached the city but an hour before his appearance at the club. Here he gazed curiously about him, as one long strange to such scenes, but who hopes to discover the face of a friend in that of each new-comer. Thus far he had not been successful, nor had he been recognized by any of the men, many of them in evening-dress, who came and went through the spacious rooms. Peveril was also in evening-dress, for he had conceived a vague idea of going to some theatre, or possibly to the opera. And now he listlessly glanced over the advertised list of attractions in an afternoon paper.

While he was thus engaged, a young man, faultlessly apparelled and pleasing to look upon, stood in front of him, regarded him steadily for a moment, and then grasped his hand, exclaiming:

"If it isn't old Dick Peveril—come to life again after an age of burial! My dear fellow, I am awfully glad to see you. Where have you been, and what have you been doing all these years? Heard you had gone West to look up a mine, but never a word since. Hope you found it and that it turned out better than such properties generally do. Was it gold, silver, iron, or what?"

"You may imagine its nature from its name," answered Peveril, who was genuinely glad to meet again his old college friend, Jack Langdon; "it is called the 'Copper Princess.'"

"The 'Copper Princess'!" cried the other. "By Jove! you don't say so! Why, that mine is the talk of Wall Street, and if you own any part in it, you must be a millionaire!"

"Not quite that," laughed Peveril, "though I am not exactly what you might call poor."

"I should say not, and only wish I stood in your shoes; but, you see—" Here Langdon plunged into a long account of his own affairs, to which Peveril listened patiently. Finally the former said:

"By the way, what have you on hand for to-night?"

"Nothing in particular. Was thinking of going to some theatre."

"Don't you do it! Beastly shows, all of them. Nothing but vaudeville nowadays. Come with me and I'll take you to a place where you will not only have a pleasant time, but will meet old friends as well. You remember old Owen?—'Dig' Owen, we used to call him."

"Yes."

"Well, he is here in New York, and has made a pot of money—no one knows how. Shady speculations of some kind, and, between ourselves, it is liable to slip through his fingers at any moment. But that's neither here nor there. He married, about a year ago, a nice enough girl, who has apparently lived abroad all her life. Rather a light-weight, but entertains in great shape. Always has something good on hand—generally music. They give a blow-out to-night, to which I am going to drop in for a while, and, of course, they will be delighted to see you. So don't utter a protest, but just come along."

In accordance with the programme thus provided, Peveril found himself an hour later entering the drawing-room of a spacious mansion on upper Fifth Avenue. It was already so well filled that it was some time before the new-comers could approach their hostess.

When they finally reached the place where she was talking and laughing with a group of guests, her face was so averted that Peveril did not see it until after Langdon had said:

"Good-evening, Mrs. Owen. You have gathered together an awfully jolly crowd, and I have taken the liberty of adding another to their number. He is an old college friend of your husband's, and quite a lion just now, for he is the owner of the famous Copper Princess that every one is talking about. May I present him? Mrs. Owen, my friend Mr. Richard Peveril." With this Langdon stepped aside, and Peveril found himself face to face with Rose Bonnifay.

For an instant she was deadly pale. Then, with a supreme effort, she recovered her self-possession, the blood rushed back to her cheeks, and, extending her hand with an engaging smile, she said:

"This is indeed an unexpected pleasure, Mr. Peveril, and I am ever so much obliged to Mr. Langdon for bringing you. Did he know, I wonder, that you were an old friend of mine, as well as of Mr. Owen's? No! Then the surprise is all the pleasanter. Oh! there is mamma, and she will be delighted to meet you again. Mamma, dear, here is our old friend, Mr. Peveril. So pleased, and hope we shall see you often this winter."



Other newly arrived guests demanding Mrs. Owen's attention at this moment, Peveril found himself borne away by her mother, who had greeted him effusively, and now seemed determined to learn everything concerning his Western life to its minutest details. To accomplish this she led him to a corner of the conservatory for what she was pleased to term an uninterrupted talk of old times, but which really meant the propounding of a series of questions on her part and the giving of evasive answers on his.

While Peveril was wondering how he should escape, a hush fell on the outer assembly, and some one began to sing. At first sound of the voice the young man started and listened attentively.

"Who is she?" he asked.

"Nobody in particular," responded Mrs. Bonnifay; "only a girl whom Rose met when she was studying music in Germany. I fancy she spent her last cent on her musical education, which, I fear, won't do her much good, after all; for, as you must notice, she is utterly lacking in style. She is dreadfully poor now, and earns a living by singing in private houses—all her voice is really fit for, you know. So Rose takes pity on her, and has her in once in a while. Why, really, they are giving her an encore! How kind of them; and yet they say the most wealthy are the most heartless. But you are not going, Mr. Peveril? I haven't asked you half—"

Peveril was already out of the conservatory and making his way towards the piano, as though irresistibly fascinated. For her encore the singer was giving a simple ballad that had been very popular some years before. The last time Peveril heard it was when cruising along a shore of Lake Superior, and it had come to him from somewhere up in the red-stained cliffs.

At last he had found Mary Darrell—"his Mary," as he called her—in quick resentment of the smiling throng about him, who paid her to sing for them.

He did not speak to her then, nor allow her to see him, but when, with her task finished, she left the room, his eyes followed her every movement and lingered lovingly on her beautiful face—for it was beautiful. He knew it now, as he also knew that he loved her, and always had done so from the moment that he first beheld her, a vision of the cliffs.

When, accompanied by faithful Aunty Nimmo, she left the house, he was waiting outside. She tried to hurry away as he approached her, but at the sound of his voice she stood still, trembling violently.

An hour later, in the modest apartment far downtown, which was the best her scanty earnings could afford, he had told his story. Mary Darrell knew that she was no longer a poor, struggling singer, but an heiress to wealth greater than she had ever coveted in her wildest dreams. But to this she gave hardly a thought, for something greater, finer, and more desirable than all the wealth of the world had come to her in that same brief space of time. She knew that she was loved by him whom she loved, for he had told her so. Even now he stood awaiting, with trembling eagerness, her answer to his plea.

Could she not love him a little bit in return? Would she not go back with him, as his wife, to the house that had been hers, and still awaited her, by the shore of the great lake?

"But I thought, Mr. Peveril—I mean, I heard that you were engaged?"

"So I was. I was engaged to Mrs. Owen, at whose house you sang this evening, and where I was so blessed as to find you. But she thought me unworthy and let me go. I know I am unworthy still; but, Mary dear, won't you give me one more chance? Won't you take me on trial?"

"Well, then, on trial," she answered, though in so low a tone that he barely caught the words.

In another instant he had folded her in his arms, for he knew that she was wholly his, and that in this Copper Princess his interest was unshared.

* * * * *

THE END

* * * * *

By S. R. KEIGHTLEY

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