[Illustration: He worked tirelessly, as though he was determined toinfuse her numb veins with his own vigor. FRONTISPIECE. ]

THE RIM OF THE DESERT

BY

ADA WOODRUFF ANDERSON

AUTHOR OF "THE STRAIN OF WHITE, " "THE HEART OF THE RED FIRS, " ETC. 

WITH FRONTISPIECE BY MONTE CREWS

1915

_To the Memory of_

MY MOTHER

A gentle and appreciative critic, the only one, perhaps, who re-read myprevious books with pleasure and found no flaw in them, and who would havehad a greater interest than any other in this publication. 

FOREWORD

The desert of this story is that semi-arid region east of the upperColumbia. It is cut off from the moisture laden winds of the Pacific bythe lofty summits of the Cascade Mountains which form its western rim, andfor many miles the great river crowds the barrier, winding, breaking inrapids, seeking a way through. To one approaching this rim from the denseforests of the westward slopes, the sage grown levels seem to stretchlimitless into the far horizon, but they are broken by hidden coulees; inpropitious seasons reclaimed areas have yielded phenominal crops of wheat, and under irrigation the valley of one of the two tributaries from thewest, wherein lies Hesperides Vale, has become a garden spot of the world. 

To the initiated I wish to say if in the chapters touching on the Alaskacoal cases I have followed too literally the statements of prominent men, it was not in an effort to portray them but merely to represent as clearlyas possible the Alaska situation. 

ADA WOODRUFF ANDERSON. 

CONTENTS

CHAPTER

 I THE MAN WHO NEVER CAME BACK II THE QUESTION III FOSTER TOO IV SNOQUALMIE PASS AND A BROKEN AXLE V APPLES OF EDEN VI NIP AND TUCK VII A NIGHT ON THE MOUNTAIN ROAD VIII THE BRAVEST WOMAN HE EVER KNEW IX THE DUNES OF THE COLUMBIA X A WOMAN'S HEART-STRINGS XI THE LOOPHOLE XII "WHOM THE GODS WOULD DESTROY" XIII "A LITTLE STREAK OF LUCK" XIV ON BOARD THE AQUILA XV THE STORY OF THE TENAS PAPOOSE XVI THE ALTERNATIVE XVII "ALL THESE THINGS WILL I GIVE THEE" XVIII THE OPTION XIX LUCKY BANKS AND THE PINK CHIFFON XX KERNEL AND PEACH XXI FOSTER'S HOUR XXII AS MAN TO MAN XXIII THE DAY OF PUBLICATION XXIV SNOWBOUND IN THE ROCKIES AND "FIT AS A MOOSE" XXV THE IDES OF MARCH XXVI THE EVERLASTING DOOR XXVII KISMET, AN ACT OF GODXXVIII SURRENDER XXIX BACK TO HESPERIDES VALE XXX THE JUNIOR DEFENDANT XXXI TISDALE OF ALASKA--AND WASHINGTON, D. C. XXXII THE OTHER DOCUMENTXXXIII THE CALF-BOUND NOTEBOOK

THE RIM OF THE DESERT

CHAPTER I

THE MAN WHO NEVER CAME BACK

It is in October, when the trails over the wet tundra harden, and beforethe ice locks Bering Sea, that the Alaska exodus sets towards Seattle; butthere were a few members of the Arctic Circle in town that first eveningin September to open the clubhouse on the Lake Boulevard with an informallittle supper for special delegate Feversham, who had arrived on thesteamer from the north, on his way to Washington. 

The clubhouse, which was built of great, hewn logs, with gabled eaves, stood in a fringe of firs, and an upper rear balcony afforded a broadoutlook of lake and forest, with the glaciered heights of the CascadeMountains breaking a far horizon. The day had been warm, but a softbreeze, drawing across this veranda through the open door, cooled theassembly room, and, lifting one of the lighter hangings of Indian-wroughtelk leather, found the stairs and raced with a gentle rustle through thelower front entrance back into the night. It had caressed many familiarthings on its way, for the walls were embellished with trophies from thebig spaces where winds are born. There were skins of polar and Kodiakbear; of silver and black fox; there were antlered heads set above thefireplace and on the rough, bark-seamed pillars that supported theunceiled roof. A frieze of pressed and framed Alaska flora finished thelow gallery which extended around three sides of the hall, and the massivechairs, like the polished banquet board, were of crocus-yellow Alaskacedar. 

The delegate, who had come out to tide-water over the Fairbanks-Valdeztrail, was describing with considerable heat the rigors of the journey. The purple parka, which was the regalia of the Circle, seemed to increasehis prominence of front and intensified the color in his face to a sort offlorid ripeness. 

"Yes, gentlemen, " he continued, thumping the table with a stout hand andrepeating the gesture slowly, while the glasses trembled, "Alaska's cryingneed is a railroad; a single finished line from the most northern harboropen to navigation the whole year--and that is Prince William Sound--straight through to the Tanana Valley and the upper Yukon. Already thefirst problem has been solved; we have pierced the icy barrier of theCoast Range. All we are waiting for is further right of way; the right tothe forests, that timber may be secured for construction work; the rightto mine coal for immediate use. But, gentlemen, we may grow gray waiting. What do men four thousand miles away, men who never saw Alaska, care aboutour needs?" He leaned back in his chair, while his glance moved from faceto face and rested, half in challenge, on the member at the foot of theboard. "These commissioners appointed off there in Washington, " he added. "These carpet-baggers from the little States beyond the Mississippi!"

Hollis Tisdale, who had spent some of the hardest years of his Alaskacareer in the service of the Government, met the delegate's look with aquiet humor in his eyes. 

"It seems to me, " he said, and his deep, expressive voice instantly heldthe attention of every one, "that such a man, with intelligence andinsight, of course, stands the surest chance of giving generalsatisfaction in the end. He is at least disinterested, while the best ofus, no matter how big he is, how clear-visioned, is bound to take his owndistrict specially to heart. Prince William Sound alone has hundreds ofmiles of coast-line and includes more than one fine harbor with anambitious seaport. "

At this a smile rippled around the table, and Miles Feversham, who was theattorney for one of the most ambitious syndicates of promoters in thenorth, gave his attention to the menu. But Tisdale, having spoken, turnedhis face to the open balcony door. His parka was thrown back, showing anincongruous breadth of stiff white bosom, yet he was the only man presentwho wore the garment with grace. In that moment the column of throatrising from the purple folds, the upward, listening pose of the fine head, in relief against the bearskin on the wall behind his chair, suggested aGreek medallion. His brown hair, close-cut, waved at the temples; lineswere chiseled at the corners of his eyes and, with a lighter touch, abouthis mouth; yet his face, his whole compact, muscular body, gave animpression of youth--youth and power and the capacity for great endurance. His friends said the north never had left a mark of its grip on Tisdale. The life up there that had scarred, crippled, wrecked most of them seemedonly to have mellowed him. 

"But, " resumed Feversham quickly, "I shall make a stiff fight atWashington; I shall force attention to our suspended land laws; demand therights the United States allows her western territories; I shall ask forthe same concessions that were the making of the Oregon country; and firstand last I shall do all I can to loosen the strangling clutch ofConservation. " He paused, while his hand fell still more heavily on thetable, and the glasses jingled anew. "And, gentlemen, the day of thefloating population is practically over; we have our settled communities, our cities; we are ready for a legislative body of our own; the time hascome for Home Rule. But the men who make our laws must be familiar withthe country, have allied interests. Gentlemen, "--his voice, dropping itsaggressive tone, took a honeyed insistence, --"we want in our firstexecutive a man who knows us intimately, who has covered our vastdistances, whose vision has broadened; a man big enough to hold thewelfare of all Alaska at heart. "

The delegate finished this period with an all-embracing smile and, noddinggently, leaned back again in his chair. But in the brief silence thatfollowed, he experienced a kind of shock. Foster, the best known miningengineer from Prince William Sound to the Tanana, had turned his eyes onTisdale; and Banks, Lucky Banks, who had made the rich strike in theIditarod wilderness, also looked that way. Then instantly their thoughtwas telegraphed from face to face. When Feversham allowed his glance tofollow the rest, it struck him as a second shock that Tisdale was the onlyone on whom the significance of the moment was lost. 

The interval passed. Tisdale stirred, and his glance, coming back from thedoor, rested on a dish that had been placed before him. "Japanesepheasant!" he exclaimed. The mellowness glowed in his face. He lifted hiseyes, and the delegate, meeting that clear, direct gaze, dropped his ownto his plate. "Think of it! Game from the other side of the Pacific. Theylook all right, but--do you know?"--the lines deepened humorously at thecorners of his mouth--"nothing with wings ever seems quite as fine to meas ptarmigan. "

"Ptarmigan!" Feversham suspended his fork in astonishment. "Notptarmigan?"

"Yes, " persisted Tisdale gently, "ptarmigan; and particularly the onesthat nest in Nunatak Arm. "

There was a pause, while for the first time his eyes swept the Circle. Hestill held the attention of every one, but with a difference; thetenseness had given place to a pleased expectancy. 

Then Foster said: "That must have been on some trip you made, while youwere doing geological work around St. Elias. "

Tisdale shook his head. "No, it was before that; the year I gave upGovernment work to have my little fling at prospecting. You were still incollege. Every one was looking for a quick route to the Klondike then, andI believed if I could push through the Coast Range from Yakutat Bay to thevalley of the Alsek, it would be smooth going straight to the Yukon. Anold Indian I talked with at the mission told me he had made it once on ahunting trip, and Weatherbee--you all remember David Weatherbee--was eagerto try it with me. The Tlinket helped us with the outfit, canoeing aroundthe bay and up into the Arm to his starting point across Nunatak glacier. But it took all three of us seventy-two days to pack the year's suppliesover the ice. We tramped back and forth in stages, twelve hundred miles. We hadn't been able to get dogs, and in the end, when winter overtook usin the, mountains, we cached the outfit and came out. "

"And never went back. " Banks laughed, a shrill, mirthless laugh, and addedin a higher key: "Lost a whole year and--the outfit. "

Tisdale nodded slowly. "All we gained was experience. We had plenty ofthat to invest the next venture over the mountains from Prince WilliamSound. But--do you know?--I always liked that little canoe trip aroundfrom Yakutat. I can't tell you how fine it is in that upper fiord; bigpeaks and ice walls growing all around. Yes. "--he nodded again, while thegenial wrinkles deepened--"I've seen mountains grow. We had a shock oncethat raised the coast-line forty-five feet. And another time, while wewere going back to the village for a load, a small glacier in a hangingvalley high up, perhaps two thousand feet, toppled right out of its cradleinto the sea. It stirred things some and noise"--he shook his head with anexpressive sound that ended in a hissing whistle. "But it missed thecanoe, and the wave it made lifted us and set us safe on top of a littlerocky island. " He paused again, laughing softly. "I don't know how we keptright side up, but we did. Weatherbee was great in an emergency. "

A shadow crossed his face. He looked off to the end of the room. 

"I guess you both understood a canoe, " said Banks. His voice was stillhigh-pitched, like that of a man under continued stress, and his eyesburned in his withered, weather-beaten face like the vents of buriedfires. "But likely it was then, while you was freighting the outfit aroundto the glacier, you came across those ptarmigan. "

Tisdale's glance returned, and the humor played again softly at thecorners of his eyes. "I had forgotten about those birds. It was this way. I made the last trip in the canoe alone, for the mail and a small load, principally ammunition and clothing, while Weatherbee and the Tlinketpushed ahead on one of those interminable stages over the glacier. And onthe way back, I was caught in fog. It rolled in, layer on layer, while Ifelt for the landing; but I managed to find the place and picked up thetrail we had worn packing over the ice. And I lost it; probably in a newthaw that had opened and glazed over since I left. Anyhow, in a littlewhile I didn't know where I was. I had given my compass to Weatherbee, andthere was no sun to take bearings from, not a landmark in sight. Nothingbut fog and ice, and it all looked alike. The surface was too hard to takemy impressions, so I wasn't able to follow my own tracks back to thelanding. But I had to keep moving, it was so miserably cold; I hardly letmyself rest at night; and that fog hung on five days. The third evening Ifound myself on the water-front, and pretty soon I stumbled on my canoe. Iwas down to a mighty small allowance of crackers and cheese then, but Iparcelled it out in rations for three days and started once more along theshore for Yakutat. The next night I was traveling by a sort of sedge whenI heard ptarmigan. It sounded good to me, and I brought my canoe up andstepped out. I couldn't see, but I could hear those birds stirring andcheeping all around. I lay down and lifted my gun ready to take the firstthat came between me and the sky. " His voice had fallen to an undernote, and his glance rested an absent moment on the circle of light on therafter above an electric lamp. "When it did, and I blazed, the whole flockrose. I winged two. I had to grope for them in the reeds, but I foundthem, and I made a little fire and cooked one of them in a tin pail Icarried in the canoe. But when I had finished that supper and pushed off--do you know?"--his look returned, moving humorously from face to face--"Iwas hungrier than I had been before. And I just paddled back and cookedthe other one. "

There was a stir along the table; a sighing breath. Then some one laughed, and Banks piped his strained note. "And, " he said after a moment, "ofcourse you kept on to that missionary camp and waited for the fog tolift. "

Tisdale shook his head. "After that supper, there wasn't any need; Iturned back to the glacier. And before I reached the landing, I heardWeatherbee's voice booming out on the thick silence like a siren at sea;piloting me straight to that one dip in the ice-wall. "

He looked off again to the end of the room, absently, with the far-sightedgaze of one accustomed to travel great solitudes. It was as though heheard again that singing voice. Then suddenly his expression changed. Hiseyes had rested on a Kodiak bearskin that hung against a pillar at the topof the gallery steps. The corner was unlighted, in heavy shadow, but ahand reaching from behind had drawn the rug slightly aside, and itswhiteness on the brown fur, the flash of a jewelled ring, caught hisattention. The next moment the hand was withdrawn. He gave it no morethought then, but a time came afterward when he remembered it. 

"Weatherbee had noticed that fog-bank, " he went on, "from high up theglacier. It worried him so he finally turned back to meet me, and he hadwaited so long he was down to his last biscuit. I was mighty recklessabout that second ptarmigan, but the water the birds were cooked in made afine soup. And the fog broke, and we overtook the Tlinket and supplies thenext morning. "

There was another stir along the table, then Foster said: "That was agreat voice of Weatherbee's. I've seen it hearten a whole crowd on a meantrail, like the bugle and fife of a regiment. "

"So have I. " It was Lucky Banks who spoke. "So have I. And Weatherbee wasalways ready to stand by a poor devil in a tight place. When the frost gotme"--he held up a crippled and withered hand--"it was Dave Weatherbee whopulled me through. We were mushing it on the same stampede from Fairbanksto Ruby Creek, and he never had seen me before. It had come to the lastday, and we were fighting it out in the teeth of a blizzard. You all knowwhat that means. In the end we just kept the trail, following thehummocks. Sometimes it was a pack under a drift, or maybe a sled; andsometimes it was a hand reaching up through the snow, frozen stiff. Thenit came my turn, and I lay down in my tracks. But Weatherbee stopped towork over me. He wouldn't go on. He said if I was determined to stay inthat cemet'ry, I could count on his company. And when he got me on myfeet, he just started 'Dixie, ' nice and lively, and the next I knew he hadme all wound up and set going again, good as new. "

His laugh, like the treble notes of the Arctic wind, gave an edge to thestory. 

Presently Foster said: "That was Weatherbee; I never knew another suchman. Always effacing himself when it came to a choice; always ready toshare a good thing. Why, he made some of his friends rich, and yet in theend, after seven years of it, seven years of struggle of the worst kind, what did he have to show?"

"Nothing, Foster; nothing but seven feet of earth up there on the edge ofthe wilderness. " Tisdale's voice vibrated gently; an emotion like thesurface stir of shaken depths crossed his face. "And a tract of unimproveddesert down here in eastern Washington, " he added. 

"And Mrs. Weatherbee, " supplemented Feversham quickly. "You mustn't forgether. Any man must have counted such a wife his most valuable asset. Here'sto her! Young, charming, clever; a typical American beauty!" He stopped todrain his glass, then went on. "I remember the day Weatherbee sailed forAlaska. I was taking the same steamer, and she was on the dock, with allSeattle, to see the Argonauts away. It was a hazardous journey into theUnknown in those days, and scenes were going on all around--my own wifewas weeping on my shoulder--but Mrs. Weatherbee, and she had just beenmarried then, bridged the parting like a little trump. 'Well, David, ' shesaid, with a smile to turn a priest's head, 'good-by and good luck. Comeback when you've made your fortune, and I'll help you to spend it. '"

The delegate, laughing deeply, reached for the port decanter to refill hisglass. No one else saw the humor of the story, though the man with themaimed hand again gave an edge to the silence that followed with hisstrained, mirthless laugh. Presently he said: "But he never came back. "

"No. " It was Foster who answered. "No, but he was on his way out to theStates at last, when the end came. I don't understand it. It seemsincredible that Weatherbee, who had won through so many times, handicappedby the waifs and strays of the trail, --Weatherbee, to whom the Susitnacountry was an open scroll, --should have perished as he did. But it wasyou who found him, Hollis. Come, tell us all about it. "

Tisdale shook his head. "Some other time, Foster. It's a long story andnot the kind to tell here. "

"Go on! Go on!" The urging came from many, and Banks added in his high, tense key; "I guess we can stand it. Most of us saw the iron side ofAlaska before we saw the golden. "

"Well, then, " Tisdale began reluctantly, "I must take you back a year. Iwas completing trail reconnaissance from the new Alaska Midway surveys inthe Susitna Valley, through Rainy Pass, to connect with the mail routefrom the interior to Nome, and, to avoid returning another season, kept myparty late in the field. It was the close of September when we struckSeward Peninsula and miserably cold, with gales sweeping in from BeringSea. The grass had frozen, and before we reached a cache of oats I hadrelied on, most of our horses perished; we arrived at Nome too late forthe last steamer of the year. That is how I came to winter there, and whya letter Weatherbee had written in October was so long finding me. It wasforwarded from Seattle with other mail I cabled for, back to PrinceWilliam Sound, over the Fairbanks-Valdez trail, and out again by thewinter route three thousand miles to Nome. It was the middle of March whenI received it, and he had asked me to buy his half interest in the Auroramine. He needed the money to go out to the States. "

Tisdale's voice broke a little; and for a moment he looked off through theopen door. "Perhaps some of you remember I grub-staked him for a halfshare when he left the Tanana to prospect down along the Alaska Range. After he located, I forwarded him small amounts several times to carry ondevelopment work. I never had been on the ground, but he explained he washandicapped by high water and was trying to divert the channel of a creek. In that last letter he said he had carried the scheme nearly through; thenext season would pay my money back and more; the Aurora would pan out therichest strike he had ever made. But that did not trouble me. I knew ifWeatherbee had spent two years on that placer, the gravels had somethingto show. The point that weighed was that he was willing to go home at lastto the States. I had urged him before I put up the grub-stake, but he hadanswered: 'Not until I have made good. ' It was hardly probable that, failing to hear from me, he had sold out to any one else. From hisdescription, the Aurora was isolated; hundreds of miles from the newIditarod camp; he hadn't a neighbor in fifty miles. So I forwarded hisprice and arranged with the mail carrier to send a special messenger onfrom the nearest post. In the letter I wrote to explain my delay, Isketched a plan of my summer's work and told him how sorry I was I hadmissed seeing him while the party was camped below Rainy Pass. Though Icouldn't have spared the time to go to the Aurora, he might have found me, had I sent an Indian with word. It was the first time I had gone throughhis orbit without letting him know. 

"But after that carrier had gone, Weatherbee's letter kept worrying me. Itwasn't like him to complain, yet he had written he was tired of theeternal winters; he couldn't stand those everlasting snow peaks sometimes, they got to crowding him so; they kept him awake when he needed sleep, threatening him. 'I've got to break away from them, Hollis, ' he said, 'andget where it's warm once more; and when my blood begins to thaw, I'll showyou I can make a go of things. ' Then he reminded me of the land he owneddown here on the eastern slopes of the Cascade Mountains. The soil was thefinest volcanic ash; the kind that grew the vineyards on Vesuvius, and hemeant to plant it with grapes; with orchards, too, on the bench levels. All the tract needed was water, but there was a natural reservoir andspring on a certain high plateau that could be easily tapped with aflume. "

Tisdale paused while his glance moved slowly, singling out those who hadknown Weatherbee. A great gentleness rested on his face, and when he wenton, it crept like a caress through his voice. "Most of you have heard himtalk about that irrigation scheme; some of you have seen those plans heused to-work on, long Alaska nights. It was his dream for years. He wentnorth in the beginning just to accumulate capital enough to swing thatproject. But the more I studied that letter, the more confident I was hehad stayed his limit; he was breaking, and he knew it. That was why he wasso anxious to turn the Aurora over to me and get to the States. Finally Idecided to go with the mail carrier and on to the mine. If Weatherbee wasstill there, as I believed, we would travel to Fairbanks together and takethe Valdez trail out to the open harbor on Prince William Sound. I pickedup a team of eight good huskies--the weather was clear with a moon in hersecond quarter--and I started light, cutting my stops short; but when Ileft Nome I had lost four days. "

Hollis paused another interval, looking off again through the open door, while the far-sighted expression gathered in his eyes. It was as thoughhis listeners also in that moment saw those white solitudes stretchinglimitless under the Arctic night. 

"I never caught up with that carrier, " he went on, "and the messenger hesent on broke trail for me all the way to the Aurora. I met him on hisreturn trip, thirty hours out from the mine. But he had found Weatherbeethere, and had a deed for me which David had asked him to see recorded andforwarded to me at Nome. It was a relief to hear he had been able toattend to these business matters, but I wondered why he had not broughtthe deed himself, since he must come that way to strike the Fairbankstrail, and why the man had not waited to travel with him. Then he told meWeatherbee had decided to use the route I had sketched in my letter. Themessenger had tried to dissuade him; he had reminded him there were noroad-houses, and that the traces left by my party must have been wiped outby the winter snows. But Weatherbee argued that the new route wouldshorten the distance to open tide-water hundreds of miles; that hisnearest neighbors were in that direction, fifty miles to the south; andthey would let him have dogs. Then, when he struck the Susitna Valley, hewould have miles of railroad bed to ease the last stage. So, at the timethe messenger left the Aurora, Weatherbee started south on his long trekto Rainy Pass. He was mushing afoot, with Tyee pulling the sled. Some ofyou must remember that big husky with a strain of St. Bernard he used todrive on the Tanana. "

"My, yes, " piped little Banks, and his eyes scintillated like chippings ofblue glacier ice. "Likely I do remember Tyee. Dave picked him up that sametrip he set me on my feet. He found him left to starve on the trail with abroken leg. And he camped right there, pitched his tent for a hospital, and went to whittling splints out of a piece of willow to set that bone. 'I am sorry to keep you waiting, ' he says to me, 'but he is a mighty gooddog. He would have done his level best to see the man who deserted himthrough. ' And he would. I'd bank my money on old Tyee. "

Tisdale nodded slowly. "But my chance to overtake David was before hesecured that team fifty miles on. And I pushed my dogs too hard. When Ireached the Aurora, they were nearly done for. I was forced to rest them aday. That gave me time to look into Weatherbee's work. I found that thecreek where he had made his discovery ran through a deep and narrowcanyon, and it was clear to me that the boxed channel, which was frozensolid then, was fed during the short summer by a small glacier at the topof the gorge. To turn the high water from his placer, he had made a boreof nearly one thousand feet and practically through rock. I followed abucket tramway he had rigged to lift the dump and found a primitivelighting-plant underground. The whole tunnel was completed, with theexception of a thin wall left to safeguard against an early thaw in thestream, while the bore was being equipped with a five-foot flume. You allknow what that means, hundreds of miles from navigation or a main traveledroad. To get that necessary lumber, he felled trees in a spruce grove upthe ravine; every board was hewn by hand. And about two-thirds of thosesluice-boxes, the bottoms fitted with riffles, were finished. Afterwards, at that camp where he stopped for dogs, I learned that aside from a fewdays at long intervals, when the two miners had exchanged their labor forsome engineering, he had made his improvements alone, single-handed. Andmost of that flume was constructed in those slow months he waited to hearfrom me. "

Tisdale paused, and again his glance sought the faces of those who hadknown David Weatherbee. But all the Circle was strung responsive. Thosewho never had known Weatherbee understood the terrible conditions he hadbraved; the body-wracking toil underground; the soul-breaking solitude;the crowding silence that months earlier he had felt the necessity toescape. In that picked company, the latent force in each acknowledged theiron courage of the man; but it was Tisdale's magnetic personality, theunstudied play of expression in his rugged face, the undercurrent ofemotion quickening through infinite tones of his voice, that plumbed thedepths and in every listener struck the dominant chord. And, too, thesemen had bridged subconsciously those vast distances between Tisdale'sstart from Nome in clear weather, "with a moon in her second quarter, " andthat stop at the deserted mine, when his dogs--powerful huskies, partwolf, since they were bred in the Seward Peninsula--"were nearly donefor. " Long and inevitable periods of dark there had been; perils of whiteblizzard, of black frost. They had run familiarly the whole gamut ofhardship and danger he himself must have faced single-handed; and whilefull measure was accorded Weatherbee, the greater tribute passed silently, unsought, to the man who had traveled so far and so fast to rescue him. 

"It ought to have been me, " exclaimed Lucky Banks at last in his hightreble. "I was just down in the Iditarod country, less than three hundredmiles. I ought to have run up once in awhile to see how he was gettingalong. But I never thought of Dave's needing help himself, and nobody toldme he was around. I'd ought to have kept track of him, though; it was upto me. But go on, Hollis; go on. I bet you made up that day you lost atthe mine. My, yes, I bet you broke the record hitting that fifty-milecamp. "

Tisdale nodded, and for an instant the humor played lightly at the cornersof his eyes. "It took me just seven hours with an up-grade the last twentymiles. You see, I had Weatherbee to break trail. He rested a night at thecamp and lost about three hours more, while they hunted a missing husky tomake up his team. Still he pushed out with nearly eighteen hours start andfour fresh dogs, with Tyee pulling a strong lead; while I wasn't able toreplace even one of mine that had gone lame. I had to leave him there, andbefore I reached the summit of Rainy Pass, I was carrying his mate on mysled. But I had a sun then, --the days were lengthening fast into May, --andby cutting my stops short I managed to hold my own to the divide. Afterthat I gained. Finally, one morning, I came to a rough place where hisoutfit had upset, and I saw his dogs were giving him trouble. There wereblood stains all around on the snow. It looked like the pack had brokenopen, and the huskies had tried to get at the dried salmon. Tyee must havefought them off until Weatherbee was able to master them. At the end ofthe next day I reached a miners' cabin where he had spent the night, andthe man who had helped him unhitch told me he had had to remind him tofeed his dogs. He had seemed all right, only dead tired; but he had goneto bed early and, neglecting to leave a call, had slept fifteen hours. Irested my team five, and late the next morning I came upon his camp-fireburning. "

Tisdale paused to draw his hand across his eyes and met Foster's look overthe table. "It was there I blundered. There was a plain traveled trailfrom that mine down through the lowlands to Susitna, and I failed to seethat his tracks left it: they were partly blotted out in a fresh fall ofsnow. I lost six hours there, and when I picked up his trail again, I sawhe was avoiding the few way houses; he passed the settlement by; then Imissed his camp-fire. It was plain he was afraid to sleep any more. But heknew the Susitna country; he kept a true course, and sometimes, in swampyplaces, turned back to the main thoroughfare. At last, near the crossingof the Matanuska, I was caught in the first spring thaw. It was heavygoing. All the streams were out of banks; the valley became a network ofsmall sloughs undermining the snowfields, creating innumerable ponds andlakes. The earth, bared in patches, gave and oozed like a sponge. It wasimpossible to follow Weatherbee's trail, but I picked it up once more, where it came into the other, along the Chugach foot-hills. Slides beganto block the way; ice glazed the overflows at night; and at last a coldwave struck down from the summits; the track stiffened in an hour and itwas hard as steel underfoot. The wind cut like swords. Then came snow. "

Tisdale looked off with his far-sighted gaze through the open door. Everyface was turned to him, but no one hurried him. It was a time when silencespoke. 

"I came on Weatherbee's dogs in a small ravine, " he said. "They hadbroken through thin ice in an overflow, and the sled had mired in muck. The cold wave set them tight; their legs were planted like posts, and Ihad to cut them out. Two were done for. "

"You mean, " exclaimed Banks, "Dave hadn't cut the traces to give hishuskies a chance. "

Tisdale nodded slowly. "But the instant I cut Tyee loose, he went limpingoff, picking up his master's trail. It was a zigzag course up the face ofa ridge into a grove of spruce. Weatherbee took a course like a husky;location was a sixth sense to him; yet I found his tracks up there, winding aimlessly. It had stopped snowing then, but the first impressionswere nearly filled. In a little while I noticed the spaces were shorterbetween the prints of the left shoe; they made a dip and blur. Then I cameinto a parallel trail, and these tracks were clear, made since thesnowstorm, but there was the same favoring of the left foot. He wastraveling in a circle. Sometimes in unsheltered places, where the windswept through an avenue of trees, small drifts covered the impressions, but the dog found them again, still doubling that broad circle. Finally Isaw a great dark blotch ahead where the ground sloped up to a narrowplateau. And in a moment I saw it was caused by a great many fresh twigsof spruce, all stuck upright in the snow and set carefully in rows, like achild's make-believe garden. "

Tisdale's voice broke. He was looking off again into the night, and hisface hardened; two vertical lines like clefts divided his brows. It was asthough the iron in the man cropped through. The pause was breathless. Hereand there a grim face worked. 

"When the dog reached the spot, " Hollis went on, "he gave a quick bark andran with short yelps towards a clump of young trees a few yards off. Therim of a drift formed a partial windbreak, but he had only a low bough tocover him, --and the temperature, --along those ice-peaks--"

His voice failed. There was another speaking silence. It was as thoughthese men, having followed all those hundreds of miles over tundra andmountains, through thaw and frost, felt with him in that moment theheart-breaking futility of his pursuit. "I tried my best, " he added. "Iguess you all know that, but--I was too late. "

The warning blast of an automobile cut the stillness, and the machinestopped in front of the clubhouse, but no one at the table noticed theinterruption. 

Then Banks said, in his high key: "But you hitched his dogs up with yours, the ones that were fit, and brought him through to Seward. You saw himburied. Thank you for that. "

Feversham cleared his throat and reached for the decanter, "Think of it!"he exclaimed. "A man like that, lost on a main traveled thoroughfare! Butthe toll will go on every year until we have a railroad. Here's to thatroad, gentlemen. Here's to the Alaska Midway and Home Rule. "

The toast was responded to, and it was followed by others. But Tisdale hadleft his place to step through the open door to the balcony. PresentlyFoster joined him. They stood for an interval smoking and taking in thosesmall night sounds for which long intimacy with Nature teaches a man tolisten; the distant voice of running water; the teasing note of thebreeze; the complaint of a balsam-laden bough; the restless stir of unseenwings; the patter of diminutive feet. A wooded point that formed the hornof a bay was etched in black on the silver lake; then suddenly the moonillumined the horizon and, rising over a stencilled crest of the Cascades, stretched her golden path to the shore below them. Both these men, watching it, saw that other trail reaching white, limitless, hard as steelthrough the Alaska solitudes. 

"At Seward, " said Foster at last, "you received orders by cable detailingyou to a season in the Matanuska fields; but before you took your partyin, you sent a force of men back to the Aurora to finish Weatherbee's workand begin operations. And the diverting of that stream exposed gravelsthat are going to make you rich. You deserve it. I grant that. It's yourcompensation; but just the same it gives a sharper edge to poorWeatherbee's luck. "

Tisdale swung around. "See here, Foster, I want you to know I should haveconsidered that money as a loan if David had lived. If he had lived--andrecovered--I should have made him take back that half interest in theAurora. You've got to believe that; and I would be ready to do as much forhis wife, if she had treated him differently. But she wrecked his life. Ihold her responsible. "

Foster was silent. 

"Think of it!" Hollis went on. "The shame of it! All those years while hefaced privation, the worst kind, tramping Alaska trails, panning in icystreams, sluicing, digging sometimes like any common laborer, wintering inshacks, she was living in luxury down here. He never made a promisingdiscovery that he wasn't forced to sell. She spent his money faster thanhe made it; kept him handicapped. And all she ever gave him was a friendlyletter now and then, full of herself and the gay life she led, and showingclearly how happy she could be without him. Think of it, Foster!" Hisvoice deepened and caught its vibrant quality. "A fine fellow likeWeatherbee; so reliable, so great in a hard place. How could she havetreated him as she did? Damn it! How could he have thrown himself awaylike that, for a feather-headed woman?"

Foster knocked the ash from the end of his cigar. "You don't know her, " heanswered. "If you did, you wouldn't put it in that way. " He smiled alittle and looked off at the golden path on the lake. "So, " he said aftera moment, and his glance returned to meet Tisdale's squarely, "she hasabsolutely nothing now but that tract of unimproved desert on the otherside of the Cascades. "

CHAPTER II

THE QUESTION

Sometime, high on a mountain slope, a cross current of air, or perhaps atremor of the surface occasioned far off, starts the small snow-cap, thatsliding, halting, impelled forward again, always accumulating, gatheringmomentum, finally becomes the irresistible avalanche. So Marcia Feversham, the following morning, gave the first slight impetus to the question thateventually menaced Tisdale with swift destruction. She was not taking theearly train with her husband; she desired to break the long journey and, after the season in the north, prolong the visit with her relatives inSeattle. The delegate had left her sleeping, but when he had finished thelight breakfast served him alone in the Morganstein dining-room andhurried out to the waiting limousine, to his surprise he found her in thecar. "I am going down to see you away, " she explained; "this salt breezewith the morning tide is so delightfully fresh. "

There was no archness in her glance; her humor was wholly masculine. Afirm mouthy brilliant, dark eyes, the heavy Morganstein brows that metover the high nose, gave weight and intensity to anything she said. Herhusband, in coaching her for the coming campaign at Washington, had toldher earnestness was her strong suit; that her deep, deliberate voice washer best card, but she held in her eyes, unquestionably, both bowers. 

"Delightful of you, I am sure, " he answered, taking the seat beside her, with his for-the-public smile, "but I give credit to the air; you arelooking as brilliant at this outrageous hour as you would on your way toan afternoon at bridge. " Then, the chauffeur having closed the door andtaken his place in the machine, Feversham turned a little to scrutinizeher face. 

"Now, my lady, " he asked, "to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Mr. Tisdale, " she answered directly. "Of course you must see now, even ifI do contrive to meet him through Frederic, as you suggested, and manageto see him frequently; even if I find out what he means to say in thosecoal reports, when it comes to influence, I won't have the weight of afeather. No woman could. He is made of iron, and his principles were castin the mold. "

"Every man has his vulnerable point, and I can trust you to find HollisTisdale's. " The delegate paused an instant, still regarding his wife'sface, frowning a little, yet not without humor, then said: "But you havechanged your attitude quickly. Where did you learn so much about him? Howcan you be so positive about a man you never have met? Whom you have seenonly a time or two at a distance, on some street--or was it a hotellobby?--in Valdez or Fairbanks?"

"Yesterday, when we were talking, that was true; but since then I haveseen him at close range. I've heard him. " She turned and met Feversham'sscrutiny with the brilliancy rising in her eyes. "Last night at theclubhouse, when he told the story of David Weatherbee, I was there. "

"You were there? Impossible! That is against the rules. Not a man of theCircle would have permitted it, and you certainly would have beendiscovered before you reached the assembly hall. Why, I myself was thelast to arrive. Frederic, you remember, had to speed the car a little toget me there. And I looked back from the door and saw you in the tonneauwith Elizabeth, while Mrs. Weatherbee kept her place in front withFrederic. You were going down the boulevard to spend the evening with herat Vivian Court. "

"That was our plan, but we turned back, " she explained. "We had acuriosity to see the Circle seated around the banquet board in thoseridiculous purple parkas. And Frederic bet me a new electric runaboutagainst the parka of silver fox and the mukluks I bought of the Esquimaugirl at Valdez that we never could get as far as the assembly room. Hewaited with Elizabeth in the car while we two crept up the stairs. Thedoor was open, and we stood almost screened by that portičre of Indianleather, peeping in. Mr. Tisdale was telling the ptarmigan yarn--it'swonderful the power he has to hold the interest of a crowd of men--and thechance was too good to miss. We stole on up the steps to the gallery, --noone noticed us, --and concealed ourselves behind that hanging Kodiakbearskin. "

"Incredible!" exclaimed Feversham. "But I see you arrived at the opportunemoment, --when Tisdale was talking. There's something occult about thepersonality of that man. And she, Mrs. Weatherbee, heard everything?"

Marcia nodded. "Even your graceful toast to her. "

At this he settled back in his seat, laughing. "Well, I am glad I made it. I could hardly have put it more neatly had I known she was there. "

"She couldn't have missed a word. We had found a bench behind the Kodiakskin, and she sat straight as a soldier, listening through it all. Icouldn't get her to come away; it was as though she was looking on at aninteresting play. She was just as neutral and still; only her face turnedwhite, and her eyes were wide as stars, and once she gripped the fur ofthe Kodiak so hard I expected to see it come down. But I know she failedto grasp the vital point of the story. I mean the point vital to her. Shedoesn't understand enough about law. And I myself slept on it the nightthrough before I saw. It came the moment I wakened this morning, clear andsudden as an electric flash. If David Weatherbee was mentally unbalancedwhen he made that transfer, the last half interest in the Aurora mineought to revert to her. "

Feversham started. He lifted his plump hands and let them drop forcibly onhis broad knees. But she did not notice his surprise. They wereapproaching the station, and time pressed. "You know it is not a simpleinfatuation with Frederic, " she hurried on, "to be forgotten tomorrow. Hehas loved her passionately from the day he first met her, four years ago. He can't think of anything else; he never will do anything of credit tothe family until she is his wife. And now, with David Weatherbee safelyburied, it seems reasonably sure. Still, still, Miles, this unexpectedfortune held out to her just now might turn the scales. We have got tokeep it from her, and if those coal claims are coming up for trial, youmust frame some excuse to have them postponed. "

"Postponed? Why, we've just succeeded in gaining Federal attention. We'vebeen waiting five years. We want them settled now. It concerns Frederic aswell as the rest of us. "

"True, " she answered, "even more. If those patents are allowed, he willtake immediate steps to mine the coal on a large scale. And it came overme, instantly, on the heels of the first flash, that it was inevitable, ifMr. Tisdale had taken advantage of David Weatherbee's condition--and hisown story shows the man had lost his mind; he was wandering aroundplanting make-believe orchards in the snow--you would use the point toimpeach the Government's star witness. "

"Impeach the Government's witness?" repeated Feversham, then a suddenintelligence leaped into his face. "Impeach Hollis Tisdale, " he addedsoftly and laughed. 

Presently, as the chauffeur slackened speed, looking for a stand among thewaiting machines at the depot, the attorney said: "If the syndicate sendsStuart Foster north to the Iditarod, he may be forced to winter there;that would certainly postpone the trial until spring. "

The next moment the chauffeur threw open the limousine door, and thedelegate stepped out; but he lingered a little over his good-by, retaininghis wife's hand, which he continued to shake slowly, while his eyestelegraphed an answer to the question in hers. Then, laughing againdeeply, he said: "My lady! My lady! Nature juggled; she played yourbrother Frederic a trick when she set that mind in your woman's head. "

CHAPTER III

FOSTER TOO

The apartment Tisdale called home was in a high corner of the Alaskabuilding, where the western windows, overtopping other stone and brickblocks of the business center, commanded the harbor, caught like a facetedjewel between Duwamish Head and Magnolia Bluff, and a far sweep of theouter Sound set in wooded islands and the lofty snow peaks of the Olympicpeninsula. Next to his summer camp in the open he liked this eyrie, andparticularly he liked it at this hour of the night tide. He drew his chairforward where the stiff, salt wind blew full in his face, but Foster, whohad found the elevator not running and was somewhat heated by his longclimb to the "summit, " took the precaution of choosing a sheltered placenear the north window, which was closed. A shaded electric lamp cast aring of light on the package he had laid on the table between them, butthe rest of the room was in shadow, and from his seat he glanced down onthe iridescent sign displays of Second Avenue, then followed the lines ofstreet globes trailing away to the brilliant constellations set againstthe blackness of Queen Anne hill. 

"She is to be out of town a week, " he said, "and I hardly liked to leaveWeatherbee's things with a hotel clerk; since I am sailing on the _AdmiralSampson_ tonight, I brought the package back. You will have to be your ownmessenger. "

"That's all right, Foster; I can find another when she returns. I'll askBanks. "

"No. " Foster's glance came back from the street; his voice rang a littlesharp. "Take it yourself, Hollis. "

"I can trust it with Banks. " Tisdale paused a moment, still looking out onthe harbor lights and the stars, then said: "So you are going north again;back to the copper mine, I presume?"

"No, I shall be there later, but I expect to make a quick trip in to theIditarod now, to look over placer properties. The syndicate has bondedBanks' claims and, if it is feasible, a dredger will be sent in nextspring to begin operations on a big scale. I shall go, of course, by wayof the Yukon, and if ice comes early and the steamers are taken off, return by trail around through Fairbanks. "

"I see. " Tisdale leaned forward a little, grasping the arms of his chair. "The syndicate is taking considerable risk in sending you to the Iditarodat this time. Suppose those coal cases should be called, with youwinter-bound up there. Why, the Chugach trial couldn't go on. "

"I am identified with the Morganstein interests there, I admit; but whyshould the Chugach claims be classed with conspiracies to defraud theGovernment? They were entered regularly, fifty coal claims of one hundredand sixty acres each, by as many different persons. Because the Presidenttemporarily suspended Alaska coal laws is no reason those patents shouldbe refused or even delayed. Our money was accepted by the Government; itwas never refunded. "

"As I thought, " said Tisdale softly, addressing the stars; "as I feared. "Then, "Foster, Foster, " he admonished, "be careful. Keep your head. Thatsyndicate is going to worry you some, old man, before you are through. "

Foster got to his feet. "See here, Hollis, be fair. Look at it once fromthe other side. The Morgansteins have done more for Alaska than they willever be given credit for. Capital is the one key to open that big, new, mountain-locked country, and the Government is treating it like aboa-constrictor to be throttled and stamped out. Millions went into thedevelopment of the El Dorado, yet they still have to ship the orethousands of miles to a smelter, with coal, --the best kind, inexhaustiblefields of it, --at our door. And go back to McFarlane. He put one hundredand fifty thousand into the Chugach Railway to bring out the coal he hadmined, but he can't touch it; it's all tied up in red tape; the road isrotting away. He is getting to be an old man, but I saw him doing daylabor on the Seattle streets to-day. Then there's the Copper RiverNorthwestern. That company built a railroad where every engineer but one, who saw the conditions, said it could not be done. You yourself havecalled it the most wonderful piece of construction on record. You know howthat big bridge was built in winter--the only time when the bergs stoppedchipping off the face of the glacier long enough to set the piers; youknow how Haney worked his men, racing against the spring thaw--he's payingfor it with his life, now, down in California. In dollars that bridgealone cost a million and a half. Yet, with this road finished through thecoast mountains, they've had to suspend operation because they can't burntheir own coal. They've got to change their locomotives to oil burners. And all this is just because the President delays to annul a temporaryrestriction the previous executive neglected to remove. We have waited; wehave imported from British Columbia, from Japan; shipped in Pennsylvania, laid down at Prince William Sound at fifteen dollars a ton, when our owncoal could be mined for two and a quarter and delivered here in Seattlefor five. "

"It could, I grant that, " said Tisdale mellowly, "but would it, Stuart?Would it, if the Morganstein interests had exclusive control?"

Foster seemed not to have heard that question. He turned restlessly andstrode across the room. "The Government with just as much reason mighthave conserved Alaska gold. "

Tisdale laughed. "That would have been a good thing for Alaska, " heanswered; "if a part, at least of her placer streams had been conserved. Come, Foster, you know as well as I do that the regulations earlyprospectors accepted as laws are not respected to-day. Every discovery isfollowed by speculators who travel light, who do not expect to do evenfirst assessment work, but only to stay on the ground long enough to stakeas many claims as possible for themselves and their friends. When the realprospector arrives, with his year's outfit, he finds hundreds of miles, awhole valley staked, and his one chance is to buy or work under a lease. Most of these speculators live in the towns, some of them down here inSeattle, carrying on other business, and they never visit their claims. They re-stake and re-stake year after year and follow on the heels of eachnew strike, often by proxy. We have proof enough of all this to convincethe most lukewarm senator. "

"You think then, " said Foster quickly, "there is going to be a chance, after all, for the bill for Home Rule?"

"No. " Tisdale's voice lost its mellowness. "It is a mistake; it's askingtoo much at the beginning. We need amended mining laws; we should work forthat at once, in the quickest concerted way. And, first of all, ourspecial delegates should push the necessity of a law giving a definedlength of shaft or tunnel for assessment work, as is enforced in theKlondike, and ask for efficient inspectors to see that such laws as wehave are obeyed. "

Foster moved to the window and stood looking down again on the citylights. Presently he said: "I presume you will see the President while youare in Washington. "

"Probably. He is always interested in the field work up there, and thisseason's reconnaissance in the Matanuska coal district should be ofspecial importance to him just now. The need of a naval coaling station onthe Pacific coast has grown imperative, and with vast bodies of coalaccessible to Prince William Sound, the question of location should soonbe solved. "

There was another silence, while Poster walked again to the end of theroom and returned. "How soon do you start east?" he asked. 

"Within a week. Meantime, I am going over the Cascades into the sage-brushcountry to look up that land of Weatherbee's. "

"You intend then, " said Foster quickly, "to take that piece of desert offMrs. Weatherbee's hands?"

"Perhaps. It depends on the possibility of carrying out his project. Ihave just shipped a steam thawing apparatus in to the Aurora, and that, with supplies for a winter camp, has taken a good deal of ready money. Freighting runs high, whether it's from the Iditarod or south fromFairbanks. But spring should see expenses paid and my investment back. "

"From all I've heard, " responded Foster dryly, "you'll get your investmentback with interest. "

"Of course, " said Tisdale after a moment, "Mrs. Weatherbee will be eagerto dispose of the tract; the only reason it is still on her hands is thatno one has wanted to buy it at any price. "

"And that's just why you should. " Foster paused, then went on slowly, controlling the emotion in his voice, "You don't know her, Hollis. She'sproud. She won't admit the situation, and I can't ask her directly, but Iam sure she has come to the limit. I've been trying all day, ever since Iknew I must go north again, to raise enough money to make an offer forthat land, but practically all I have is tied up in Alaska properties. Ittakes time to find a customer, and the banks are cautious. "

Tisdale rose from his chair. "Foster!" he cried and stretched out hishands. "Foster--not you, too. "

Then his hands dropped, and Foster drew a step nearer into the circle oflight and stood meeting squarely the silent remonstrance, accusation, censure, for which he was prepared. "I knew how you would take it, " hebroke out at last, "but it's the truth. I've smothered it, kept it downfor years; but it's nothing to be ashamed of any longer. I'd have beenglad to exchange places with Weatherbee. I'd have counted it a privilegeto work, even as he did, for her; I could have suffered privation, theworst kind, wrung success out of failure, for the hope of her. "

"See here, Foster, "--Tisdale laid his hands on the younger man'sshoulders, shaking him slowly, --"you must stop this. " His hold relaxed; hestepped back, and his voice vibrated softly through the room. "How couldyou have said it, knowing David Weatherbee as you did? No matter what kindof a woman she is, you should have remembered she was his wife andrespected her for his sake. "

"Respect? I do respect her. She's the kind of woman a man sets on apedestal to worship and glorify. You don't understand it, Hollis; youdon't know her, and I can't explain; but just her presence is an appeal, an inspiration to all that's worth anything in me. "

Tisdale's hands sought his pockets; his head dropped forward a little andhe stood regarding Foster with an upward look from under frowning brows. 

"You don't know her, " Foster repeated. "She's different--finer than otherwomen. And she has been gently bred. Generations of the best blood isbottled like old wine in her crystal body. " He paused, his facebrightening at the fancy. "You can always see the spirit sparklingthrough. "

"I remember about that blue blood, " Tisdale said tersely. "Weatherbee toldme how it could be traced back through a Spanish mother to somebuccaneering adventurer, Don Silva de y somebody, who made hisheadquarters in Mexico. And that means a trace of Mexican in the race, orat least Aztec. "

Foster colored. "The son of that Don Silva came north and settled inCalifornia. He brought his peons with him and made a great rancheria. Atthe time of the Mexican War, his herds and flocks covered immense ranges. Hundreds of these cattle must have supplied the United States commissary;the rest were scattered, and in the end there was little left of theestate; just a few hundred acres and a battered hacienda. But Mrs. Weatherbee's father was English; the younger son of an old and knightedfamily. "

"I know, " answered Tisdale dryly. "Here in the northwest we call such sonsremittance men. They are paid generous allowances, sometimes, to come toAmerica and stay. "

"That's unfair, " Foster flamed. "You have no right to say it. He came toCalifornia when he was just a young fellow to invest a small inheritance. He doubled it twice in a few years. Then he was persuaded to put his moneyin an old, low-grade gold mine. The company made improvements, built aflume thirty miles long to bring water to the property for development, but it was hardly finished when a State law was passed prohibitinghydraulic mining. It practically ruined him. He had nothing to depend onthen but a small annuity. "

"Meantime, " supplemented Tisdale, "he had married his Spanish seņorita andher inheritance, the old rancheria, was sunk with his own in the goldmine. Then he began to play fast and loose with his annuity at the SanFrancisco stock exchange. "

"He hoped to make good quickly. He was getting past his prime, with hisdaughter's future to be secured. But it got to be a habit and, after thedeath of his wife, a passion. His figure was well known on the street; hewas called a plunger. Some days he made fortunes; the next lost them. Still he was the same distinguished, courteous gentleman to the end. "

"And that came on the stock exchange, after a prolonged strain. DavidWeatherbee found him and took him home. " Tisdale paused, then went on, still regarding Foster with that upward look from under his forbiddingbrows. "It fell to Weatherbee to break the news to the daughter, and tendays later, on the eve of his sailing north to Seattle, that marriage washurried through. "

There was a silent moment, then Foster said: "Weatherbee loved her, and hewas going to Alaska; it was uncertain when he could return; married, hemight send for her when conditions were fit. And her father's affairs werea complete wreck; even the annuity stopped at his death, and there wasn'tan acre of her mother's inheritance left. Not a relative to take her in. "

"I know; that is why she married Weatherbee. " Tisdale set his lips grimly;he swung around and strode across the floor. "You see, you can't tell meanything, " he said. "I know all about it. Wait. Listen. I am going overthe mountains and look up that land of Weatherbee's, and I shall probablybuy it, but I want you to understand clearly it is only because I hope tocarry his project through. Now go north, Foster; take a new grip onthings; get to work and let your investments alone. "

After that, when Foster had gone, Tisdale spent a long interval trampingthe floor of his breezy room. The furrows still divided his brows, hismouth was set, and a dark color burned and glowed through his tan. Butdeeper than his angry solicitude for Foster rankled his resentment againstthis woman. Who was she, he asked himself, that she should fix her hold onlevel-headed Foster? But he knew her kind. Feversham had called her a"typical American beauty, " but there were many types, and he knew herkind. She was a brunette, of course, showing a swarthier trace of Mexicanwith the Spanish, and she would have a sort of personal magnetism. Shemight prove dramatic if roused, but those Spanish-California women wereindolent, and they grew heavy early. Big, handsome, voluptuous; just asplendid animal without a spark of soul. 

He had stopped near the table, and his glance fell on the package in thering of light from the shaded lamp. After a moment he lifted it and, drawing up a chair, seated himself and removed the wrapper. It covered atin box such as he was accustomed to use in the wilderness for theprotection and portage of field notes and maps. He raised the lid and tookfrom the top a heavy paper, which he unfolded and spread before him. Itwas Weatherbee's landscape plan, traced with the skill of a draughtsmanand showing plainly the contour of the tract in eastern Washington and hismethod of reclamation. The land included a deep pocket set between spursof the Cascade Mountains. The ridges and peaks above it had an altitude offrom one to six thousand feet. He found the spring, marked high in adepressed shoulder, and followed the line of flume drawn from it down to anatural dry basin at the top of the pocket. A dam was set in the lower rimof this reservoir and, reaching from it, a canal was sketched in, feedingcross ditches, distributing spillways to the orchards that covered theslopes and levels below. Finally he traced the roadway up through theavenues between the trees, over the bench, to the house that commanded thevalley. The mission walls, the inside court, the roomy, vine-grownportico, all the detail of foliage here had been elaborated skilfully, with the touch of an artist. The habitation stood out the central featureof the picture and, as a good etching will, assumed a certain personality. 

How fond David would have been of a home, --a home and children! Tisdalefolded the plan and sat holding it absently in his hands. His mind ranback from this final, elaborated copy to the first rough draft Weatherbeehad shown him one night at the beginning of that interminable winter theyhad passed together in the Alaska solitudes. He had watched the drawingand the project grow. But afterwards, when he had taken up geological workagain, they had met only at long intervals; at times he had lost all traceof Weatherbee, and he had not realized the scheme had such a hold. Still, he should have understood; he should have had at least a suspicion beforethat letter reached him at Nome. And even then he had been blind. Withthat written proof in his hands, he had failed to grasp its meaning. Thetragedy! the shame of it! That he should have hesitated, --thrown away fourdays. 

He looked off once more to the harbor, and his eyes gathered theirfar-sighted expression, as though they went seeking that white trailthrough the solitudes stretching limitless under the cold Arctic night. His face hardened. When finally the features stirred, disturbed by forcesfar down, he had come to that make-believe orchard of spruce twigs. 

After a while he folded the drawing to put it away, but as his glance fellon the contents of the box, he laid the plan on the table to take up theminer's poke tucked in a corner made by a packet of letters, and drew outWeatherbee's watch. It was valuable but the large monogram deeply engravedon the gold case may have made it unnegotiable. That probably was whyDavid never had parted with it. Tisdale wound it, and set the hands. Theaction seemed suddenly to bring Weatherbee close. He felt his splendidpersonality there beside him, as he used to feel it still nights up underthe near Yukon stars. It was as though he was back to one night, the laston a long trail, when they were about to part company. He had been urginghim to come out with him to the States, but Weatherbee had as steadilyrefused. "Not yet, " he persisted. "Not until I have something to show. "And again: "No, Hollis, don't ask me to throw away all these years. I havethe experience now, and I've got to make good. " Then he spoke of his wife--for an instant Tisdale seemed to see him once more, bending to hold hisopen watch so that the light of the camp-fire played on her picture set inthe lower rim. "You see Alaska is no place for a woman like her, " he said, "but she is worth waiting for and working for. You ought to understand, Hollis, how the thought of her buoys me through. "

But it was a long time to remember a picture seen only by the flicker of acamp-fire and starshine, and the woman of Tisdale's imagination cloudedout the face he tried to recall. "Still Weatherbee was so sensitive, sofine, " he argued with himself. "A woman must have possessed more than abeautiful body to have become the center of his life. She must, at thestart, have possessed some capacity of feeling. "

He put his thumb on the spring to open the lower case, but the image soclearly fixed in his mind stayed the impulse. "What is the use?" heexclaimed, and thrusting the watch back into the bag, quickly tied thestring. "I don't want to see you. I don't want to know you, " and he added, pushing the poke into its place and closing the box; "The facts are allagainst you. "

CHAPTER IV

SNOQUALMIE PASS AND A BROKEN AXLE

Tisdale leaned forward in his seat in the observation car. His ruggedfeatures worked a little, and his eyes had their far-sighted gaze. Scarredbuttes crowded the track; great firs, clinging with exposed roots to thebluffs, leaned in menace, and above the timber belt granite pyramids andfingers shone amethyst against the sky; then a giant door closed on thisvestibule of the Pass, and he was in an amphitheatre of lofty peaks. Theeastbound began to wind and lift like a leviathan seeking a way through. It crept along a tilting shelf, rounded a sheer spur, and ran shriekingover a succession of trestles, while the noise of the exhausts rang acontinuous challenge from shoulder and crag. Then suddenly a mighty summitbuilt like a pulpit of the gods closed behind, and a company of stillhigher mountains encircled the gorge. Everywhere above the wooded slopestowered castellated heights and spires. 

Presently a near cliff came between him and the higher view and, with alift and drop of his square shoulders, he settled back in his chair. Hedrew his hand across his eyes, the humorous lines deepened and, like oneadmitting a weakness, he shook his head. It was always so; the sight ofany mountains, a patch of snow on a far blue ridge, set his pulsessinging; wakened the wanderlust for the big spaces in God's out-of-doors. And this canyon of the Snoqualmie was old, familiar ground. He had servedhis surveyor's apprenticeship on these western slopes of the Cascades. Hehad triangulated most of these peaks, named some of them, and he hadcarried a transit to these headwaters, following his axman often over anew trail. Now, far, far down between the columns of hemlock and fir, hecaught glimpses of the State road on the opposite bank of the stream that, like a lost river, went forever seeking a way out, and finally, for aninstant he saw a cabin set like a toy house at the wooden bridge where thethoroughfare crossed. Then the eastbound, having made a great loop, foundanother hidden gateway and moved up to the levels above Lake Keechelus. The whistle signalled a mountain station, and Tisdale rose and went out tothe platform; when the trucks jolted to a standstill, he swung himselfdown to the ground to enjoy a breath of the fine air. 

The next moment he found himself almost upon a wrecked automobile. He sawin a flash that the road, coming through a cut, crossed the railroadtrack, and that in making a quick turn to avoid the end of the slowingtrain, the chauffeur had forced the car into the bank. The machine wasstill upright, but it listed forward on a broken axle. A young woman whohad kept her seat in the tonneau was nursing a painful wrist, while twogirls, who evidently had come through the accident unscathed, were tryingto help the only man of the party up from the ground. Tisdale bent to givehim the support of his shoulder, and, groaning, the stranger settledagainst the side of his car and into a sitting position on the edge of thefloor, easing an injured leg. He had also received an ugly hurt above hisbrows, which were heavy and black and met in an angle over a prominentnose. 

The lady in the tonneau and one of the girls had the same marked featuresand the same brilliant dark eyes, though the retreating chin, which in theman amounted to almost a blemish, in them was modified. But the last onein the party, whom Tisdale had noticed first, was not like the rest. Shewas not like any one in the world he had seen before. From the hem of herlight gray motoring coat to the crown of her big hat, she was a delight tothe eyes. The veil that tied the hat down framed a face full of a piquantyet delicate charm. She was watching the man huddled against the machine, and her mouth, parted a little, showed the upper lip short with the upwardcurves of a bow. It was as though words were arrested, half spoken, andher eyes, shadowy under curling dark lashes, held their expression, uncertain whether to sparkle out or to cloud. 

After a moment the man lifted his head and, meeting her look, smiled. "I'mall right, " he said, "only I've wrenched this knee; sprained it, I guess. And my head feels like a drum. "

"Oh, I am--glad"--her voice fluctuated softly, but the sparkle broke inher eyes--"that it isn't worse. Would you like a glass of ice-water fromthe train? A porter is coming and the conductor, too. I will ask foranything. "

He smiled again. "You'll get it, if you do. But what I want most just nowis a glass of that port. Elizabeth, " and his glance moved to the othergirl, "where did you put that hamper?"

Elizabeth, followed by the porter, hurried around to the other side of theautomobile to find the basket, and Tisdale moved a few steps away, waitingto see if he could be of further service. 

A passenger with a camera and an alert, inquiring face had come down fromthe day coach. He wound the film key and focussed for a closer exposure, but no one noticed him. At that moment all interest centered on the manwho was hurt. "Well, " said the conductor at last, having looked the groupand the situation over, "what's the trouble?"

"Looks like a broken axle, doesn't it? And possibly a broken leg. " Hegroaned and repeated aggressively: "A broken axle. With the worst ofSnoqualmie Pass before us, and not a garage or a repair shop within fiftymiles. "

"You are in a fix, sure. But this train will take you through the Pass toEllensburg, and there ought to be a hospital and a garage there. Or--thewestbound passenger, due at this siding in seven minutes"--the conductorlooked at his watch--"could put you back in Seattle at eight-fifteen. "

"Make it the westbound; no hospital for me. Telegraph for a drawing-room, conductor, and notify this station agent to ship the machine on the sametrain. And, Elizabeth, " he paused to take the drinking-cup she had filled, "you look up a telephone, or if there isn't a long distance, telegraphJames. Tell him to have a couple of doctors, Hillis and Norton, to meetthe eight-fifteen; and to bring the limousine down with plenty of pillowsand comforters. " He drained the cup and dropped it into the open hamper. "Now, porter, " he added, "if you hurry up a cocktail, the right sort, before that westbound gets here, it means a five to you. "

As these various messengers scurried away, the girl who remained picked upthe cup and poured a draught of wine for the lady in the tonneau. "I am sosorry, but it was the only way. Do you think it is a sprain?" she asked. 

"Yes. " The older woman took the cup in her left hand. She had a deep, carrying voice, and she added, looking at the injured wrist: "It'sswelling frightfully, but it saved my face; I might have had just such ahideous wound as Frederic's. Isn't it a relief to hear him talking sorationally?"

The girl nodded. "He seems quite himself, " she said gravely. But sheturned to cover the mirth in her eyes; it suffused her face, her wholecharming personality. Then suddenly, at the moment the flow was highest, came the ebb. Her glance met Tisdale's clear, appraising look, and shestood silent and aloof. 

He looked away and, after a moment, seeing nothing further to do, startedback to his train. She turned to take the empty cup, and as she closed thehamper the whistle of the westbound sounded through the gorge. 

Tisdale walked on through the observation car to the rear platform andstood looking absently off through an aisle of Alpine firs that, parklike, bordered the track. It was a long time since the sight of a pretty womanhad so quickened his blood. He had believed that for him this sort ofthing was over, and he laughed at himself a little. 

The westbound rumbled to a stop on the parallel track, he felt the trucksunder him start, and an unaccountable depression came over him; the nextmoment he heard a soft voice directing the porter behind him, and asunaccountably his heart rose. The girl came on through the open door andstopped beside him, bracing herself with one hand on the railing, whileshe waved her handkerchief to the group she had left. He caught a faint, clean perfume suggesting violets, the wind lifted the end of her veilacross his shoulder, and something of her exhilaration was transmitted tothe currents in his veins. "Good-by, Elizabeth, " she called. "Good-by. Good-by. "

Some trainmen were getting the injured man aboard the westbound passenger, and the lady who had left the wrecked automobile to go with him sent backa sonorous "Au revoir. " But Elizabeth, who was hurrying down from thestation where she had accomplished her errand, turned in astonishment tolook after the speeding eastbound. Then a rocky knob closed all this fromsight. 

The girl on the platform turned, and Tisdale moved a little to let herpass. At the same time the lurching of the car, as it swung to the curve, threw her against him. It all happened very quickly; he steadied her withhis arm, and she drew back in confusion; he raised his hand to his headand, remembering he had left his hat in his seat, a flush shaded throughhis tan. Then, "I beg your pardon, " she said and hurried by him throughthe door. 

Tisdale stood smoothing his wind-ruffled hair and watching the recedingcliff. "Her eyes are hazel, " he thought, "with turquoise lights. I neverheard of such a combination, but--it's fine. "

A little later, when he went in to take his seat, he found her in thechair across the aisle. The train was skirting the bluffs of Keechelusthen, and she had taken off her coat and hat and sat watching theunfolding lake. His side glance swept her slender, gray-clad figure to thetoe of one trim shoe, braced lightly on her footstool, and returned to herface. In profile it was a new delight. One caught the upward curl of herblack lashes; the suggestion of a fault in the tip of her high, yetdelicately chiseled nose; the piquant curve of her short upper lip; thefull contour of the lifted chin. Her hair, roughened some, was soft andfine and black with bluish tones. 

The temptation to watch her was very great, and Tisdale squared hisshoulders resolutely and swung his chair more towards his own window, which did not afford a view of the lake. He wanted to see this newrailroad route through the Cascades. This Pass of Snoqualmie had alwaysbeen his choice of a transcontinental line. And he was approaching newterritory; he never had pushed down the eastern side from the divide. Hehad chosen this roundabout way purposely, with thirty miles of horsebackat the end, when the Great Northern would have put him directly into theWenatchee Valley and within a few miles of that tract of Weatherbee's hewas going to see. 

There were few travelers in the observation car, and for a while nothingbroke the silence but the clamp and rush of the wheels on the down-grade, then the man with a camera entered and came down the aisle as far as thenew passenger's chair. "I hope you'll excuse me, " he said, "I'm Daniels, representing the _Seattle Press_, and I thought you would like to see thisstory go in straight. "

Tisdale swung his chair a little towards the open rear door, so that hewas able to watch without seeming to see the progress of the comedy. Hewas quick enough to catch the sweeping look she gave the intruder, aloofyet fearless, as though she saw him across an invisible barrier. "You meanyou are a reporter, " she asked quietly, "and are writing an account of theaccident for your newspaper?"

"Yes. " Daniels dropped his cap into the next chair and seated himselfairily on the arm. The camera swung by a carrying strap from his shoulder, and he opened a notebook, which he supported on his knee while he felt inhis pocket for a pencil. "Of course I recognized young Morganstein;everybody knows him and that chocolate car; he's been run in so often forspeeding about town. And I suppose he was touring through Snoqualmie Passto the races at North Yakima fair. There should be some horses there worthgoing to see. "

"We meant to spend a day or two at the fair, " she admitted, "but weexpected to motor on, exploring a little in the neighborhood. "

"I see. Up the valley to have a look at the big irrigation dam theGovernment is putting in and maybe on to see the great Tieton bore. Thatwould have been a fine trip; sorry you missed it. " Daniels paused to placeseveral dots and hooks on his page. "I recognized Miss Morganstein, too, "he went on, "though she was too busy to notice me. I met her when I wastaking my course in journalism at the State University; danced with her atthe Junior Prom. And the other lady, whose wrist was sprained, must havebeen her sister, Mrs. Feversham. I was detailed to interview the newAlaska delegate when he passed through Seattle, and I understood his wifewas to join him later. She was stopping over for a visit, and the societyeditor called my attention to a mighty good picture of her in lastSunday's issue. Do you know?--" he paused, looking into the girl's facewith a curious scrutiny, "there was another fine reproduction on that pagethat you might have posed for. The lady served tea or punch or didsomething at the same affair. But I can't remember her name--I've triedever since we left that station--though seems to me it was a married one. "

"I remember the picture you mean; I remember. And I was there. It was abridge-luncheon at the Country Club in honor of Mrs. Feversham. And she--the lady you were reminded of--won the prize. So you think I resemble thatphotograph?" She tipped her head back a little, holding his glance withher half-veiled eyes. "What an imagination!"

"Of course if you did pose for that picture, it doesn't do you halfjustice; I admit that. But"--regarding her with a wavering doubt--"I guessI've been jumping at conclusions again. They call me the 'Novelist' at theoffice. " He paused, laughing off a momentary embarrassment. "That's why Ididn't want to depend on getting your name from the society editor. "

"I am glad you did not. It would have been very annoying, I'm sure--to thelady. I suppose, " she went on slowly, while the glamour grew in her eyes, "I suppose nothing could induce you to keep this story out of the_Press_. "

He pursed his lips and shook his head decidedly. "I don't see how I can. I'd do 'most anything to oblige you, but this is the biggest scoop I everfell into. The fellows detailed by the other papers to report the fairwent straight through by way of the Northern Pacific. I was the onlyreporter at the wreck. "

"I understand, but, " her voice fluctuated softly, "I dislike publicity sointensely. Of course it's different with Mrs. Feversham. She is accustomedto newspaper notice; her husband and brother are so completely in thepublic eye. But since you must use the story, couldn't you suppress myname?"

"Oh, but how could I? The whole story hinges on you. You were driving themachine. I saw you from the train window as you came through the cut. Youhandled the gear like an imported chauffeur, but it was steep there on theapproach, and the car began to skid. I saw in a flash what was going tohappen; it made me limp as a rag. But there was a chance, --the meresthairbreadth, and you took it. " He waited a moment, then said, smiling:"That was a picture worth snapping, but I was too batty to think of it intime. You see, " he went on seriously, "the leading character in this storyis you. And it means a lot to me. I was going to be fired; honest I was. The old man told me he wasn't looking for any _Treasure Island_ genius;what his paper needed was plain facts. Then his big heart got the upperhand, and he called me back. 'Jimmie, ' he said, 'there's good stuff inyou, and I am going to give you one more trial. Go over to North Yakimaand tell us about the fair. Take the new Milwaukee line as far asEllensburg and pick up something about the automobile road throughSnoqualmie Pass. But remember, cut out the fiction; keep to facts!'"

"I understand, " she repeated gravely, "I understand. The accident cameopportunely. It was life and color to your setting and demonstrates theneed of a better road. The most I can hope is that you will not exaggerateor--or put us in a ridiculous light. "

"I swear to that. " He settled his notebook again on his knee and liftedhis pencil. "Nothing sensational, " he added, "nothing annoying; now pleasegive me your name. "

"Well, then, write Miss Armitage. "

"Miss Armitage. Thank you. Miss Armitage of?"

"San Francisco. "

"Of San Francisco; and visiting the Morgansteins, of course. But going onnow alone to meet the friends who are expecting you--am I right?--at NorthYakima. "

There was a brief silence, and she moved a little in her chair. "Where Iam going now, " she said, and looked at him once more across the invisiblebarrier, "is another story. "

"I beg your pardon. " Daniels laughed and, rising from his perch on thechair arm, put his notebook in his pocket. "And I'm awfully grateful. Ifever I can be of service to you, I hope you'll let me know. " He started upthe car, then paused to say over his shoulder: "The light for photographywas fine; the old man will double column every illustration. "

"Illustrations?" She started up in dismay. "Oh, no. Please--I couldn'tendure--"

But Jimmie Daniels, with the camera swinging to his quick step, hurried onto the vestibule. 

She settled back in her seat, and for a moment her consternation grew;then the humor of the situation must have dawned on her, for suddenly thesparkles danced in her eyes. Her glance met Tisdale's briefly and, suppress it as he tried, his own smile broke at the corners of his mouth. He rose and walked out again to the platform. 

This was the rarest woman on earth. She was able to appreciate a joke ather own expense. Clearly she had finessed, then, in the instant she hadbeen sure of the game, she had met and accepted defeat with a smile. Buthe would like to discipline that fellow Daniels;--here he frowned--thosefilms should be destroyed. Still, the boy would hardly give them uppeaceably and to take them otherwise would not spare her the publicity sheso desired to avoid; such a scene must simply furnish fresh material, anew chapter to the story. After all, not one newspaper cut in a hundredcould be recognized. It was certain she was in no need of a champion; henever had seen a woman so well equipped, so sure of herself and herweapons, and yet so altogether feminine. If Foster had but known _her_. 

Instantly, in sharp contrast to this delightful stranger, rose the womanof his imagination; the idle spendthrift who had cast her spell overlevel-headed Foster; who had wrecked David Weatherbee; and his facehardened. A personal interview, he told himself presently, would be worsethan useless. There was no way to reach a woman like her; she was pastappeal. But he would take that tract of desert off her hands at her price, and perhaps, while the money lasted, she would let Foster alone. 

The train had left Lake Keechelus and was racing easily down the banks ofthe Yakima. He was entering the country he had desired to see, and soonhis interest wakened. He seated himself to watch the heights that seemedto move in quick succession like the endlessly closing gates of the Pass. The track still ran shelf-wise along precipitous knobs and ridges;sometimes it bored through. The forests of fir and hemlock were replacedby thinning groves of pine; then appeared the first bare, sage-mottleddune. The trucks rumbled over a bit of trestle, and for an instant he sawthe intake of an irrigating canal, and finally, after a last tunnel, theeastbound steamed out of the canyon into a broad, mountain-locked plateau. Everywhere, watered by the brimming ditch, stretched fields of vividalfalfa or ripe grain. Where the harvesting was over, herds of fine horsesand cattle or great flocks of sheep were turned in to browse on thestubble. At rare intervals a sage-grown breadth of unreclaimed land, likea ragged blemish, divided these farms. Then, when the arid slopes began tocrowd again, the train whistled Ellensburg on the lower rim of the plain. 

Tisdale left his seat to lean over the railing and look ahead. He was intime to catch a fleeting glimpse of Jimmie Daniels as he hurried out ofthe telegraph office and sprang on the step of a starting bus. It was herethe young newspaper man was to transfer to the Northern Pacific, anddoubtless the girl too was changing trains. The Milwaukee, beyondEllensburg, passed through new, unbroken country for many miles; thestations were all in embryo, and even though she may not have resumed herjourney at the Pass with the intention of stopping off at the fair, thesame bus was probably taking her over to the old, main traveled route downthe Yakima to the Columbia. 

Again that unaccountable depression came over him. He tried to throw itoff, laughing at himself a little and lighting a cigar. This pretty womanhad happened in his path like a flower; she had pleased his eyes for a fewhours and was gone. But what possible difference could her coming andgoing make to him?

The train started, and he settled back in his seat. The fertile fieldswere left behind, then presently the eastbound steamed through a gap in asun-baked ridge and entered a great arid level. Sage-brush stretchedlimitless, and the dull green of each bush, powdered with dust, made agrayer blotch on the pale shifting soil, that every chance zephyr liftedin swirls and scattered like ashes. Sometimes a whiter patch showed wherealkali streaked through. It was like coming into an old, worn-out world. The sun burned pitilessly, and when finally the train had crossed thisplain and began to wind through lofty dunes, the heat pent between theslopes became stifling. The rear platform was growing intolerable, and heknew his station could not be far off. He rose to go in, but the eastboundsuddenly plunged into the coolness of a tunnel, and he waited while itbored through to daylight and moved on along a shelf overlooking a dryrun. Then, as he turned to the open door, he saw the girl had not takenthe Northern Pacific at Ellensburg. She was still there in the observationcar. 

Her eyes were closed, and he noticed as he went forward that her breastrose and fell gently; the shorter, loose hair formed damp, cool littlerings on her forehead and about her ears. She was sleeping in her chair. But a turn in the track brought the sun streaming through her window; thepolished ceiling reflected the glare, and he stopped to reach carefullyand draw the blind. A moment later the whistle shrieked, and the conductorcalled his station. He hurried on up the aisle and, finding his satchel inthe vestibule, stood waiting until the car jolted to a stop, then swunghimself off. But the porter followed with a suitcase and placed his stool, and the next instant the girl appeared. She carried her hat in her hands, her coat was tucked under her arm, and as she stepped down beside Tisdale, the bell began to ring, the porter sprang aboard, and the train wentspeeding ahead. 

The station was only a telegraph office, flanked by a water-tank on asiding. There was no waiting hotel bus, no cab, no vehicle of any kind. The small building rose like an islet out of a gray sea. Far off throughbillowing swells one other islet appeared, but these two passengers theeastbound had left were like a man and woman marooned. 

CHAPTER V

APPLES OF EDEN

Tisdale stood looking after the train while the girl's swift, startledglance swept the billowing desert and with growing dismay searched thedraw below the station. "There isn't a town in sight!" she exclaimed, andher lip trembled. "Not a taxi or even a stage!" And she added, moving andlifting her eyes to meet his: "What am I to do?"

"I'll do my best, madam, " he paused, and the genial lines broke lightly inhis face, "but I could find out quicker if I knew where you want to go. "

"To Wenatchee. And I tho--ought--I understood--the conductor told me youwere going there, and this was your stop. It was his first trip over thenew Milwaukee, and we trusted--to you. "

Tisdale pursed his lips, shaking his head slowly. "I guess I amresponsible. I did tell that conductor I was going to Wenatchee when Iasked him to drop me at this siding, but I should have explained Iexpected to find a saddle-horse here and take a cut-off to strike theEllensburg road. It should save an hour. " He drew a Government map of thequadrangle of that section from his pocket and opened it. "You see, yourstop was Ellensburg; the only through road starts there. " He found thethoroughfare and began to trace it with his forefinger. "It crosses ruggedcountry; follows the canyons through these spurs of the Cascades. Theypush down sheer to the Columbia. See the big bend it makes, flowing southfor miles along the mountains trying to find a way out to the Pacific. Theriver ought to be off there. " He paused and swung on his heel to lookeastward. "It isn't far from this station. But even if we reached it, itwould be up-stream, against a succession of rapids, from here toWenatchee. A boat would be impossible. " He folded the plat and put itaway, then asked abruptly: "Do you ride, madam?"

She gave him a swift side-glance and looked off in the direction of thehidden Columbia. "Sometimes--but I haven't a riding habit. "

Tisdale waited. The humor deepened a little at the corners of his mouth. There was but one passenger train each way daily on the newly openedMilwaukee road, and plainly she could not remain at this siding alone allnight; yet she was debating the propriety of riding through the mountainsto Wenatchee with him. Then unexpectedly the click of a telegraph cut thestillness, and a sudden brightness leaped in her face. "A station master, "she cried; "perhaps there's a telephone. " And she hurried up the platformto the open office door. 

Tisdale slowly followed. 

The station master, having transmitted his message, swung around on hisstool, and got to his feet in astonishment on seeing the girl. 

"I have made a mistake, " she said, with a wavering glance over theinterior, "and I tho--ought, I hoped there was a telephone. But you cancommunicate with the nearest garage for me, can you not? Or a stable--or--somewhere. You see, " and for an instant the coquetry of a pretty woman whoknows she is pretty beamed in her eyes, "I really must have a taxicab orsome kind of a carriage to take me back to Ellensburg. "

The station master, who was a very young man, answered her smile and, reaching to take a coat from a peg on the wall, hastily slipped it on. "Ofcourse I could call up Ellensburg, " he said; "that's the nearest for amachine. But it belongs to the doctor, and even if he was in town andcould spare it, it would take till dark to bring it down. It's a mean roadover sandhills for thirty-five miles. "

"It is hardly farther than that to Wenatchee, " said Tisdale quietly. "Withgood saddle-horses we should be able to make it as soon. Do you knowanything about the trail through to tap the Ellensburg-Wenatchee highway?"

The station master came around the end of his desk. "So you are going toWenatchee, " he exclaimed, and his face shone with a sort of inner glow. "Iguess then you must have heard about Hesperides Vale; the air's full ofit, and while land is selling next to nothing you want to get in on theground floor. Yes, sir, " his voice quickened, "I own property over there, and I came that way, up the mountain road, in the spring to take thisposition when the Milwaukee opened. But I don't know much about yourcut-off; I just kept on to Ellensburg and dropped down by train from there. The main road, though, was in pretty good shape. It's the old stage roadthat used to connect with the Northern Pacific, and they had to do somemighty heavy hauling over it while the mountain division of the GreatNorthern was building up the Wenatchee. It keeps an easy grade, followingthe canyons up and up till it's six thousand feet at the divide, then youbegin to drop to the Columbia. And when you leave the woods, it's likethis again, bunch grass and sage, sand and alkali, for twenty miles. Ofcourse there isn't a regular stage now; you have to hire. "

"Any road-houses?" asked Tisdale briefly. 

"No, but you come across a ranch once in awhile, and any of them wouldtake a man in over night--or a lady. "

Tisdale turned to the door. "I can find saddle-horses, I presume, at thatranch off there through the draw. Is it the nearest?"

"The nearest and the only one. " The station master walked on with him tothe platform. "It's a new place. They are working two teams, every day andSunday, while daylight lasts, grubbing out the sage-brush for planting. It's a pumping layout to bring water from the Columbia, and they arestarting with forty acres all in apples. "

"But they have saddle-horses?" said Tisdale, frowning. 

"I can't tell you that. The fellow I talked with came over for freight andused one of the teams. Said they couldn't spare it. But that's your onlychance. I don't know of any other horses in twenty miles, unless it's awild band that passed this morning. They stopped down the draw, nosing outthe bunch grass for an hour or two, then skidooed. "

Tisdale paused a thoughtful moment then asked: "When is the next freightdue on this siding?"

"Two-forty-five. And say"--he slapped his knee at the sudden thought--"that's your chance, sure. I have orders to hold them for the eastboundsilk train, and they'll let you ride in the caboose up to Kittitas. That'sthe stop this side of Ellensburg, and there's a livery there, with across-road to strike the Ellensburg-Wenatchee. But, say! If you do dropoff at Kittitas, ask Lighter to show you the colts. They are the star teamin three counties. Took the prize at North Yakima last year forthree-year-olds. They're too fly for livery work, but if you can drive, and Lighter likes your looks"--the station master gave Tisdale a carefulscrutiny--"and you have his price, I shouldn't wonder if you could hireNip and Tuck. "

Tisdale laughed. "I see. If I can't hire them, I may be allowed theprivilege to buy them. But, " and he looked at his watch, "there's time totry that ranch. "

He started down the platform then stopped to look back at the girl who hadfollowed a few steps from the threshold. Her eyes held their expression ofuncertainty whether to sparkle or to cloud, and he read the arrestedquestion on her lips. "If there are any saddle-horses, " he answered, "Iwill have them here before that two-forty-five freight arrives, but, " andhe smiled, "I am not so sure I can supply the proper riding-suit. And themost I hope for in saddles is just a small Mexican. "

"A Mexican is easy riding, " she said, "on a mountain road. " But she stoodwatching him, with the uncertainty still clouding her face, while he moveddown the draw. 

He wore the suit of gray corduroy it was his habit to wear in opencountry, with leggings of russet leather, and he traveled very swiftly, with a long, easy stride, though never rapidly enough to wholly escape thedust he disturbed. Once he stopped and bent to fasten a loose strap, andthen he took off his coat, which he folded to carry. The pall of dustenveloped him. In it his actions gathered mystery, and his big frameloomed indistinctly like the figure of a genii in a column of smoke. Thefancy must have occurred to the watcher on the platform, for it was thenthe sparkles broke in her eyes, and she said aloud, softly clapping herhands: "I wish--I wish it to be Nip and Tuck. "

"So do I. " She started and turned, and the station master smiled. "They'rebeauties, you can take my word. It would be the drive of your life. "

He carried his office chair around the corner of the building to place forher in the shade. Then his instrument called him, and for an interval shewas left alone. The desert stretched before her, limitless, in the glareof the afternoon sun. If the Columbia flowed in that neighborhood, it washidden by sand dunes and decomposing cliffs of granite. There was noglimpse of water anywhere, not a green blade; even the bunch grass, thatgrew sparsely between the sage-brush through the draw, was dry and gray. For a while no sound but the click of the telegraph disturbed the greatsilence, then a hot wind came wailing out of the solitudes and passed intoa fastness of the mountains. 

Finally the station master returned. "Well, " he said genially, "how areyou making it? Lonesome, I guess. "

"Oh, " she exclaimed, "how can you, how could any human being, live in thisdead, worn-out world?"

"It is desolate now, " he admitted, sending a thoughtful glance over thearid waste; "it must seem like the Great Sahara to you, coming into it forthe first time and directly from the Puget Sound country. I remember how Ifelt when I struck the Hesperides. Why, it looked like the front door ofHades to me; I said so, and I called myself all kinds of a fool. But I hadsunk an even thousand dollars in a twenty-acre tract; bought it off a realestate map over in Seattle, without seeing the ground. " He laughed, halfin embarrassment at the confession, and moved to take a more comfortableposition against the wall. "I was in a railroad office in Chicago, " heexplained, "and my father expected me to work up to the responsibleposition he held with the company and take it when he was through. But thewestern fever caught me; I wanted to come to Washington and grow with thecountry. He couldn't talk me out of it; so he gave me that thousanddollars and told me to go and to stay till I made good. "

"Oh, " she cried, "how hard! How miserable! And you?"

"Why, I stayed. There wasn't anything else to do. And after I lookedaround the valley a little and saw the Peshastin ditch and what it coulddo, I got busy. I found work; did anything that turned up and saved like amiser, until I was able to have the land cleared of sagebrush. It has meanroots, you know, sprawling in all directions like the branches. Then Isaved to make connections with the ditch and to buy trees. I set the wholetwenty acres to apples--I always did like a good apple, and I had sized upthe few home orchards around Wenatchee--then I put in alfalfa for afiller, and that eased things, and I settled down to office work, smallpay, lots of time to plan, and waited for my trees to grow. That was fouryears ago, five since I struck the Wenatchee valley, and this season theycame into bearing. Now, at the end of this month, I am giving up myposition with the Milwaukee, cutting railroading for good, to go over andsuperintend the harvesting. And say"--he stood erect, the inner glowillumined his face--"I've had an offer for my crop; three hundred andfifty dollars an acre for the fruit on the trees. Three hundred and fiftydollars for a four-year-old orchard! Think of that! Seven thousand clearfor re-investment. "

"How splendid!" she said, and in that instant her face seemed to catch andreflect his enthusiasm. "To have waited, fought like that in the face ofdefeat, and to have made good. "

"And it's only the beginning, " his voice caught a little; "an appleorchard has bigger results every year after maturity. There's a man overthere on the Wenatchee who is going to make a thousand dollar profit oneach acre of his twelve-year orchard. You ought to see those trees, allbraced up with scaffolding, only fourteen acres of them, but every branchloaded. But that orchard is an exception; they had to lift water from theriver with buckets and a wheel, and most of the pioneers put in grain. Their eyes are just beginning to open. But think of Hesperides Vale inanother five years. And think what that High Line ditch means. Justimagine it! Water, all you can use and running to waste; water spillingover in this sage-brush desert. Doesn't it spell oasis? Think of it! Grassand flowers and shade in place of this sunbaked sand and alkali. "

"It sounds like a fairy tale, " she said. "I can hardly believe it. "

"I'll show you. " He hurried around to the office door and came backdirectly with a basket of fruit. "Here are a few samples from my trees. Did you ever see pink like that in a bellflower? Isn't it pretty enoughfor a girl's cheek? And say, " he held up an exceedingly large apple, nearer the size of a small pumpkin, "how's this for a Rome Beauty? Anagent who is selling acreage for a company down the Yakima offered me fivedollars for that apple yesterday. He wanted it for a window display overat his Seattle office. But look at these Jonathans. " His sensitive fingerstouched the fruit lingeringly with a sort of caress, and the glow deepenedin his face. "They represent the main crop. And talk about color! Did youever see wine and scarlet and gold blend and shade nicer than this?"

She shook her head. "Unless it was in a Puget Sound cloud effect atsunset. That is what it reminds me of; a handful of Puget Sound sunset. "

The station master laughed softly. "That's about it, sure. Now taste oneand tell me what the flavor of a Wenatchee Jonathan is like. No, that'snot quite ripe; try this. "

She set her small white teeth in the crimson cheek and tested the flavordeliberately, with the gravity of an epicure, while the boy watched her, his whole nervous frame keyed by her responsiveness to high pitch. "It'slike nothing else in the world, " she said finally. "No, wait, yes, it is. It's like condensed wine; a blend of the best; golden Angelica, red port, amber champagne, with just enough of old-fashioned cider to remind you itis an apple. "

The station master laughed again. "Say, but you've got it all in, fine. "He set the basket at her feet and stood looking down at her an uncertainmoment. "I would like awfully well to send you a box, " he added, and theflush of his bellflower was reflected in his cheek. 

She gave him a swift upward glance and turned her face to the desert. "Thank you, but when one is traveling, it is hard to give a certainaddress. " In the pause that followed, she glanced again and smiled. "Iwould like one or two of these samples, though, if you can spare them, "she compromised; "I shall be thirsty on that mountain road. "

"I can spare all you'll take. "

"Thank you, " she repeated hastily. "And you may be sure I shall look foryour orchard when I reach Wenatchee. The fruit on the trees must bebeautiful. "

"It is. It's worth the drive up from Wenatchee just to see HesperidesVale, and that special Eden of mine is the core. You couldn't miss it;about ten miles up and right on the river road. "

"I shall find it, " she nodded brightly. "I am going that way to see a wildtract in a certain pocket of the valley. I wonder"--she started and turneda little to give him her direct look--"if by any possibility it could bebrought under your Peshastin ditch?"

He shook his head. "Hardly. I wouldn't count on it. Most of those pocketsback in the benches are too high. Some of them are cut off by ridges fromone to six thousand feet. Maybe your agent will talk of pumping water fromthe canal, but don't you bite. It means an expensive electric plant andseveral miles of private flume. And perhaps he will show you how easy it'sgoing to be to tap the new High Line that's building down the Wenatcheeand on to the plateau across the Columbia thirty miles. But it's a bigproposition to finance; in places they'll have to bore through granitecliffs; and if the day ever comes when it's finished far enough to benefityour tract, I doubt the water would reach your upper levels. And say, whatis the use of letting him talk you into buying a roof garden when, for oneor two hundred dollars an acre, you can still get in on the ground floor?"

She did not answer. Her eyes were turned again to the desert, and a suddenweariness clouded her face. In that moment she seemed older, and thestrong light brought out two lines delicately traced at the corners of herbeautiful mouth that had not been apparent before. 

"But, say, " the young man went on eagerly, "let me tell you a little moreabout the Vale. It's sheltered in there. The mountains wall it in, and youdon't get the fierce winds off the Columbia desert. The snow never drifts;it lies flat as a carpet all winter. And we don't have late frosts; neverhave to stay up all night watching smudge pots to keep the trees warm. Andthose steep slopes catch the early spring sun and cast it off like bigreflectors; things start to grow before winter is gone. And I don't knowwhat makes it so, but the soil on those low Wenatchee benches is a littledifferent from any other. It looks like the Almighty made his hot bedsthere, all smooth and level, and just forgot to turn the water on. Andtake a project like the Peshastin, run by a strong company with plenty ofcapital; the man along the canal only has to pay his water rate, so muchan irrigated acre; nothing towards the plant, nothing for flumeconstruction and repairs. And, say, I don't want to bore you, I don't wantto influence you too far, but I hate to see a woman--a lady--throw hermoney away right in sight of a sure proposition; even if you can't go intoimproved orchards, any Hesperides investment is safe. It means at leastdouble the price to you within two years. I've bonded forty acres more ofwild land joining my tract, and I shall plant thirty of it in the fall. The last ten will be cleared and reserved for speculation. The piece comeswithin a stone's throw of the Great Northern's tracks. There's a sidingthere now, and when the Vale comes into full bearing, they are bound tomake it a shipping station. Then I'm going to plat that strip into townlots and put it on the market. " He paused while her glance, returning fromthe desert, met his in a veiled side-look, and the flush of the bellfloweragain tinged his cheek. "I mean, " he added, "I'd be mighty glad to let youin. "

The blue sparkles played under her lashes. "Thank you, it sounds likeriches, but--"

She stopped, leaving the excuse unsaid. The station master had turned hisface suddenly towards the Columbia; he was not listening to her. Then, presently, the sound that had caught his alert ear reached her ownfaintly. Somewhere out in the solitudes a train had whistled. "Thewestbound freight!" she exclaimed softly. "Isn't it the westboundfreight?"

He nodded. "She's signalling Beverley. They'll call me in a minute. " Andhe started around to the office door. 

She rose and followed to the corner to look for Tisdale. Midway the roaddoubled a knoll and was lost, to reappear, a paler streak, on the grayslope where the ranch house stood; and it was there, at the turn, shefirst noticed a cloud of dust. It advanced rapidly, but for a while shewas not able to determine whether it enveloped a rider or a man on foot;she was certain there was no led horse. Then a gust of wind parted thecloud an instant, and the sparkle suffused her whole face. He wasreturning as she had hoped, afoot. 

She stood watching the moving cloud; the man's bulk began to detach fromit and gathered shape. Between pauses, the click of the telegraph reachedher, then suddenly the shriek of the whistle cut the stillness. The trainmust have crossed the Columbia and was winding up through the dunes. Shewent along the platform and picked up her hat, which she had left on thesuitcase with her coat. While she pinned it on and tied her veil over it, the freight signalled twice. It was so close she caught the echo of thethundering trucks from some rocky cut. When the call sounded a third time, it brought an answer from the silk special, far off in the direction ofEllensburg. She lifted her coat and turned again to watch Tisdale. He hadquickened his pace, but a shade of suspense subdued the light in her face. 

Since the whistle of the special, the telegraph instrument had remainedsilent, and presently she heard the station master's step behind her. "Well, " he said, "it's Nip and Tuck, sure. But say, he can sprint some. Does it easy, too, like one of those cross-country fellows out of acollege team. I'd back him against the freight. "

"If he misses it, " and the suspense crept into her voice, "I must gowithout him, and I suppose I can be sure of a hotel at Ellensburg?"

"You'll find fair accommodations at Kittitas. But he isn't going to missthe freight, and it will be hours saved to you if Lighter lets you havethe colts. "

She lifted her coat, and he held it while she slipped her arms in thesleeves. "I've 'most forgotten how to do this, " he said; "it's so longsince I've seen a girl--or a lady. I'm afraid I've bored you a lot, butyou don't know how I've enjoyed it. It's been an epoch seeing you in thiswilderness. "

"It's been very interesting to me, I'm sure, " she replied gravely. "I'velearned so much. I wonder if, should I come this way again, I would findall this desert blossoming?"

"I shouldn't be surprised; settlement's bound to follow a new railroad. But say, look into Hesperides Vale while you are at Wenatchee, and if myproposition seems good to you at one hundred dollars an acre, and that iswhat I'm paying, drop me a line. My name is Bailey. Henderson Bailey, Post-Office, Wenatchee, after the end of the month. "

He waited with expectation in his frank brown eyes, but the girl stoodobliviously watching Tisdale. He reached the platform and stopped, breathing deep and full, while he shook the dust from his hat. "I amsorry, madam, " he said, "but their only saddle-horse pulled his rope-stakethis morning and went off with the wild herd. You will have to take thisfreight back to Kittitas. "

"How disappointing!" she exclaimed. "And you were forced to tramp backdirectly through this heat and dust. "

"This is the lightest soil I ever stepped on"--he glanced down over hispowdered leggings and shoes; the humor broke gently in his face--"andthere's just one kind deeper, --the Alaska tundra. "

With this he hurried by her to the office. Presently the freight whistledthe siding, and Bailey picked up the baggage and went down to makearrangements with the trainmen. The girl followed, and when Tisdale cameback, she stood framed in the doorway of the waiting caboose, while abrakeman dusted a chair, which he placed adroitly facing outside, so thatshe might forget the unmade bunks and greasy stove. "It isn't much onaccommodations, " he said conciliatingly, "but you can have it all toyourselves; as far as you go, it's your private car. "

The other train thundered into the station and past; the freight began tomove, and Tisdale swung himself aboard. Then the station master, remembering the apples at the last moment, ran with the basket, crownedstill by the Rome Beauty for which he had refused five dollars, anddropped it as a parting tribute at her feet. 

"Thank you! Thank you for everything!" Her soft voice fluted back toBailey, and she leaned forward a little, raising her hand with a partingsalute. "Good-by!"

Then, as she settled back in her chair, her swift side-glance sweptTisdale. It was incredible he had removed so much dust in that briefinterval, but plainly, somewhere in that miserable station, he had foundwater and towels; he had not seemed more fit that morning in theobservation car. The hand he laid on the wall as a brace against therocking of the light caboose was on a level with her eyes, and they restedthere. It was a strong, well-made hand, the hand of the capabledraughtsman, sensitive yet controlled, and scrupulously cared for. "I hopeI pass muster, " he said, and the amusement played gently in his face, "forI am going to venture to introduce myself. Possibly you have heard JudgeFeversham speak of me. I am Hollis Tisdale--Miss Armitage. "

In the instant he hesitated on the name, she gave him another swift upwardglance, and he caught a question in her eyes; then the sparkles rose, andshe looked off again to the point where the railroad track was lost amongthe dunes. "Of course I have heard of you, " she admitted. "We--Mrs. Feversham--recognized you this morning in Snoqualmie Pass and would havespoken to thank you for your service had you not hurried aboard yourtrain. She has known you by sight and has wished to meet you personally along time. But I--I--as you must know--I--"

She had turned once more to give him the direct look of her unveiled eyes, and meeting his her voice failed. The color flamed and went in her face;then, her glance falling to the basket at her feet, she bent and took thelargest apple. "Did you ever see such a marvel?" she asked. "It came fromthat station master's orchard in the Wenatchee valley. He called it a RomeBeauty. Divide it, please; let us see if the flavor is all it promises. "

"If it is"--and Tisdale took the apple and felt in his pocket for hisknife--"the ground that grew the tree is a bonanza. " He waited anothermoment, watching the changing color in her face, then turned and walked tothe upper end of the caboose, where he deliberately selected a stool whichhe brought forward to the door. Her confusion puzzled him. Had she beenabout to confess, as he had at first conjectured, that Miss Armitage wasan incognito used to satisfy the _Press_ reporter and so avoid publicity?It was clear she had thought better of the impulse, and he told himself, as he took the seat beside her and opened his knife, he was to have nomore of her confidence than Jimmie Daniels. 

CHAPTER VI

NIP AND TUCK

Bailey was right; the colts were beauties. But at the time Tisdale arrivedat the Kittitas stables, Lighter, having decided to drive them to NorthYakima, was putting the pair to a smart buggy. They were not for hire atdouble or treble the usual day rate. 

"I want to sell this team, " the trader repeated flatly. "I don't want towinter 'em again, and my best chance to show 'em is now, down at the fair. I can keep 'em in good shape, making it in two stages and resting 'em overnight on the road, and be there by noon to-morrow. "

One of the horses reared, lifting the stable-boy off his feet, and Lightersprang to take the bit in his powerful grasp. "Steady, Tuck, steady! Whoa, whoa, back now, back, steady, whoa!" The animal stood, frothing a little, his beautiful coat moist, every muscle tense. "See there, now! Ain't hepeaceable? Nothing mean under his whole hide; just wants to go. The otherone will nip your fingers once in a while, if you don't watch out, but hedon't mean anything, either; it's all in fun. "

He gave his place to the boy again and stepped back to Tisdale's side, still watching his team, while a second stableman hurried to fasten thetraces. "The fact is, " he went on, dropping his voice confidentially, "I've got wind of a customer. He's driving through from the Sound to theraces in his machine. A friend of mine wired me. Mebbe you know him. It'sone of those Morgansteins of Seattle; the young feller. He saw these bayslast year when they took the blue ribbon and said he'd keep an eye on 'em. They were most too fly then for crowded streets and spinning around theboulevard 'mongst the automobiles, but they're pretty well broke now. Steady, Nip, whoa there!"

"But, " said Tisdale quietly, "young Morganstein met with an accident thismorning in Snoqualmie Pass. An axle was broken, and he was thrown out ofhis machine. His leg was injured, and he took the train back to Seattle. Ihappened to be on the eastbound at the siding where it all occurred. "

Lighter gave him a skeptical glance between narrowed lids. "Then, if hecan't come himself, I guess he'll send his man. He told that friend ofmine he counted on having another look at this team. "

Tisdale's brows contracted. "See here, I want to drive to Wenatchee; whatis the best you can do for me?"

"Why, let's see. My best livery rig is on the Wenatchee road now. One ofthem High Line fellers hired the outfit with a driver to take him throughto the valley. If you'd be'n here when they started, likely they'd be'nglad to accommodate you. And the sorrels is out with a picnic to Nanumcanyon. That leaves the roans. They come in half an hour ago. A couple oftraveling salesmen had 'em out all the forenoon, and these drummers drivelike blue blazes; and it's a mean pull through to Wenatchee. But wait tillto-morrow and, with an early start, you can make it all right with theroans. That's the best I can do, unless you want a saddle-horse. "

Tisdale walked back to the stalls and, convinced at a glance the jadedroans were impossible for that day, at least, stopped to look over thesaddle animals. He saw that there were two promising travelers, but itwould be necessary to impress an indifferent third to carry the baggage. Besides, judging from all he had seen, the resources of Kittitas did notinclude a ready-made lady's habit. He returned and stood another silentmoment watching the lithe, impatient bays. Finally his eyes moved to theentrance and down the road to the railroad station where Miss Armitage waswaiting. She was seated on a bench near the door. He could distinguish hergray figure in relief against the reddish-brown wall. 

Directly he swung around. "What is your price?" he asked. 

Lighter's hand dropped from the edge of the buggy seat. He stepped back tothe heads of his team. "You get in, Harry, " he said. "Drive 'em five orsix blocks. Keep your eyes open. "

Harry gathered the reins warily and sprang in; Lighter released his hold, then hurried forward to the driveway and stood with Tisdale watching theteam. "Ain't they a sight?" he said. 

And they were. Their coats shone like satin in the sun; they steppedairily, spurning the dust of Kittitas, and blew the ashen powder fromtheir nostrils; then without warning the splendid span was away. 

Tisdale repeated: "What is your price?"

Lighter's shrewd eyes swept his new customer over; it was as though hemade an estimate of how much Tisdale could pay. "Five hundred dollars, " hesaid. "Five hundred--if it's spot cash. "

"And the outfit?"

"Let me see. Harness is practically new; buggy first-class. I'll make itan even seven hundred for the whole business; outfit and team. "

There was a brief silence. As a rule, a man drawing the salary of theGeological Survey does not spend seven hundred dollars lightly. He bridleshis impulses to own fine driving-horses until at least he has tried them. And this sum, just at that time, meant something of a drain on Tisdale'sbank account. He knew if he bought the Weatherbee tract and reclaimed it, he must hedge on his personal expenses for a year or two; he had eventalked with Banks a little about a loan to open the project and keep itmoving until the next season's clean-up, when the Aurora should make good. He stirred, with a quick upward lift of his head, and looked once more inthe direction of the station. 

The girl rose and began to walk the platform. 

Tisdale swung back and met the trader's calculating gaze. "Where is yourbank?" he asked. 

The business was quickly transacted and, when Lighter and his customerstepped out of the bank, Harry was there, driving the bays slowly up anddown the street. In the moment they waited for him to draw up, the traderlooked Tisdale over again. "Your easiest way to get this team over to theSound is to drive through Snoqualmie Pass, the way you came. "

"But, " said Tisdale, knitting his brows, "I told you I wanted this team todrive to the Wenatchee valley. "

"You can't drive on through the Cascades from there and, if you try toship these colts aboard a Great Northern train, you'll have trouble. "

"I shall probably leave them to winter in the valley. Unless"--Tisdalepaused, smiling at the afterthought--"I decide to sell them to youngMorganstein when I get back to Seattle. "

Lighter laughed dryly. "I thought so. I sized you up all right at thestart. I says to myself: 'He don't look like a feller to run a bluff, ' andI says: 'Young Morganstein ain't the sort to pick up any second-handoutfit, ' but I thought all along you was his man. "

"I see. " The humor played softly in Tisdale's face. "I see. But youthought wrong. "

Lighter's lids narrowed again skeptically. "Those letters you showed toidentify yourself cinched it. Why, one was signed by his brother-in-law, Miles Feversham, and your draft was on the Seattle National where theMorgansteins bank. But it's all right; I got my price. " He nudged Tisdaleslyly and, laughing again, moved to the heads of the team. "Now, sir, watch your chance; they're chain lightning the minute you touch the seat. "

Tisdale was ready. At last he felt the tug of the lines in his grasp, thehot wind stung his face, and he was speeding back in the direction of thestation. The girl came to the edge of the platform as he approached, andwhile the solitary man from the freight office caught the firstopportunity to store the baggage under the seat, and the second to lift inthe basket of samples from Bailey's orchard, she tied her veil more snuglyunder her chin and stood measuring the team with the sparkles breaking inher eyes. Then she gathered her skirts in one hand and laid the otherlightly on the seat. 

"Don't try to help me, " she said breathlessly. "Just hold them. " And thenext instant she was up beside him, and her laugh fluted in exhilarationas they whirled away. 

Kittitas fell far behind. They were racing directly across the seven milesof level towards a pass in a lofty range that marked the road toWenatchee. Far to the left lines of poplars showed where the irrigatingcanals below Ellensburg watered the plain, and on the right the dunes andbluffs of the unseen Columbia broke the horizon. But the girl was watchingTisdale's management of the horses. "What beauties!" she exclaimed. "AndNip and Tuck!" Her lips rippled merriment. "How well named. Wait, be--care--ful--they are going to take that ho-le. Oh, would you mind givingthose reins to me?"

"I wish I could. " He shook his head, while the amusement played gently atthe corners of his mouth. "I know all about a team of huskies, and itdoesn't make much difference what I have under a saddle, but these kittensin harness are rather out of my line. "

"Then trust yourself to me; please do. I used to drive just such a pair. "

"Oh, but your hands couldn't stand this, and those gloves would be ribbonsin half an hour. "

"They are heavier than they look; besides, there are the shops atWenatchee!" As if this settled the matter she said: "But we must changeplaces. Now. " She slipped into his seat as he rose, and took the reinsdexterously, with a tightening grip, in her hands. "Whoa, whoa, Nip!" Hervoice deepened a little. "Steady, Tuck, steady! That's right; be a man. "There was another silent interval while he watched her handling of theteam, then, "I did not know there could be a pair in all the world so likePedro and Don José, " she said, and the exhilaration softened in her face. "They were my ponies given me the birthday I was seventeen. A long timeago--" she sighed and flashed him a side-glance, shaking her head--"but Ishall never forget. We lived in San Francisco, and my father and I triedthem that morning in Golden Gate park. The roads were simply perfect, andthe sea beach at low tide was like a hardwood floor. After that we drovefor the week-end to Monterey, then through the redwoods to Santa Cruz andeverywhere. " She paused reminiscently. "Those California hotels are fine. They pride themselves on their orchestras, and wherever we went, we foundfriends to enjoy the dancing evenings after table d'hôte. That was in thewinter, but it was more delightful in the spring. We drove far south then, through Menlo Park and Palo Alto, where the great meadows were vivid withalfalfa, and fields on fields were yellow with poppies or blue withlupine; on and on into the peach and almond country. I can see thoseblossoming orchards now; the air was flooded with perfume. "

Her glance moved from the horses out over the sage-covered levels, and thecontrast must have dropped like a curtain on her picture, for the light inher face died. Tisdale's look followed the road up from the plain andrested on the higher country; his eyes gathered their far-seeing gaze. Hehad been suddenly reminded of Weatherbee. It was in those Californiaorchards he had spent his early life. He had known that scent of theblossoming almond; those fields of poppies and lupine had been hisplayground when he was a child. It was at the university at Palo Alto thathe had taken his engineering course; and it was at one of those gayhotels, on a holiday and through some fellow student, he had met the womanwho had spoiled his life. 

The moment passed. One of the horses broke, and instantly the driver wasalert. And while she alternately admonished and upbraided, with a firmmanipulation of the reins, the humor began to play again in Tisdale'sface. They were approaching the point where the road met the highway fromEllensburg, and in the irrigated sections that began to divide theunreclaimed land, harvesters were reaping and binding; from a fartherfield came the noise of a threshing machine; presently, as the bays turnedinto the thoroughfare, the way was blocked by a great flock of sheep. 

"Oh, " she exclaimed, "there must be thousands of them; how can the ones inthe center breathe? Whoa, Nip, whoa now! Do you think you are one of thoselambs? And there's no chance to go around; it is fenced with barbed wireon both sides; we simply must drive through, No, let me, please. Steady, now, Tuck, steady, whoa. "

They had passed the mounted herders, and the colts broke their wayplayfully, dancing, curveting with bowing necks, into the midst of theflock. Soon the figures of the advance shepherds loomed through the dust. They were turning the sheep into a harvested field. They rolled in overthe yellow stubble like a foaming sea. Far away, outlined like a sailagainst an island rick, the night tent of these nomads was alreadypitched. 

Tisdale laughed softly. "Well, madam, that was skilful piloting. A bidarkacouldn't have been safer riding in a skiddery sea. "

"A bidarka?" she questioned, ruffling her brows. 

Tisdale nodded. "One of those small skin canoes the Alaskan natives use. And it's touchy as a duck; comes bobbing up here and there, but right-sideup every time. And it's frail looking, frail as an eggshell, yet I wouldstake a bidarka against a lifeboat in a surf. Do you know?"--he went onafter a moment--"I would like to see you in one, racing out with thewhitecaps up there in Bering Sea; your face all wet with spray, and yourhair tucked away in the hood of a gray fox parka. Nothing else would show;the rest of you would be stowed below in a wonderful little water-tightcompartment. "

"It sounds delightful, " she said, and the sparkles broke in her eyes. 

After that there was a long silence. The bays fell into an even trot. Themountains loomed near, then before them, on the limits of the plain, amighty herd of cattle closed the road. The girl rose a little in her placeand looked over that moving sea of backs. "We must drive through again, "she said. "It's going to be stifling but there's no possible way around. No, " she protested, when he would have taken the reins, "I'm able. Ilearned once, years ago, on a great ranch in southern California. I'drather. " She settled in her seat smiling a little. "It's in the blood. "

Tisdale reached and took the whip. They had passed the drivers and werepushing into the herd. Sometimes a red-eyed brute turned with loweredhorns and dripping mouth, then backed slowly out of the way of the team. Sometimes, in a thicker press, an animal wheeled close to the tires and, stemming the current, sounded a protest. But the young horses, lessplayful now, divided the great herd and came at last safely out of thesmother. The road began to lift, as they rounded the first rampart of therange, and Tisdale's glance fell to her hands. "Those gloves are done for, as I expected, " he exclaimed. "I'll wager your palms are blistered. Come, own they hurt. "

She nodded. "But it was worth it, though you may drive now, if you wish. It's my wrists; they have been so long out of practice. You don't know howthey a--che. "

"So, " he said, when he had taken the reins, "so you are as fond of horsesas this. "

"Horses like these, yes. I haven't felt as happy and young since I gave upPedro and Don José. "

Tisdale turned a little to look in her face. She had said "young" with thetone of one whose youth is past, yet the most conservative judge could notplace her age a day over twenty-five. And she was so buoyant, so vibrant. His pulses quickened. It was as though currents of her vitality were beingcontinually transmitted through his veins. 

As they ascended, the plain unfolded like a map below; harvest fields, pastures of feeding cattle or sheep, meadows of alfalfa, unreclaimedreaches of sage-brush, and, far off among her shade-trees, the roofs ofEllensburg reflecting the late sun. Above the opposite range that hemmedthe valley southward some thunder-heads crowded fast towards a loftiersnow-peak. Far away across the divide, white, symmetrical, wrought ofalabaster, inlaid with opal, lifted a peerless dome. 

"Mount Rainier!" exclaimed Tisdale. 

"I knew it. " Her voice vibrated softly. "Even at this distance I knew. Itwas like seeing unexpectedly, in an unfamiliar country, the head of anoble friend lifting above the crowd. "

Tisdale's glance returned to her face. Surprise and understanding shonesoftly in his own. She turned, and met the look with a smile. It was then, for the first time, he discovered unsounded depths through the subduedlights of her eyes. "You must have known old Rainier intimately, " he said. 

She shook her head. "Not nearer than Puget Sound. But I have a marvelousview from my hotel windows in Seattle, and often in long summer twilightsfrom the deck of Mr. Morganstein's yacht, I've watched the changing Alpineglow on the mountain. I always draw my south curtains first, at VivianCourt, to see whether the dome is clear or promises a wet day. I'velearned a mountain, surely as a person, has individuality; every cloudeffect is to me a different mood, and sometimes, when I've been mostunhappy or hard-pressed, the sight of Rainier rising so serene, so pure, so high above the fretting clouds, has given me new courage. Can youunderstand that, Mr. Tisdale? How a mountain can become an influence, aninspiration, in a life?"

"I think so, yes. " Tisdale paused, then added quietly: "But I would liketo be the first to show you old Rainier at close range. "

At this she moved a little; he felt the invisible barrier stiffen betweenthem. "Mr. Morganstein promised to motor us through to the National ParkInn when the new Government road was finished, but we've been waiting forthe heavy summer travel to be over. It has been like the road to Meccasince the foot of the mountain has been accessible. "

There was a silence, during which Tisdale watched the pulling team. Hermanner of reminding him of his position was unmistakable, but it was herfrequent reference to young Morganstein that began to nettle him. Whyshould she wish specially to motor to Rainier with that black-browed, querulous nabob? Why had she so often sailed on his yacht? And why shouldshe ever have been unhappy and hard-pressed, as she had confessed? She whowas so clearly created for happiness. But to Tisdale her camaraderie withNature was charming. It was so very rare. A few of the women he had knownhitherto had been capable of it, but they had lived rugged lives; thewilderness gave them little else. And of all the men whom he had made hisfriends through an eventful career, there was only Foster who sometimesfelt the magnitude of high places, --and there had been David Weatherbee. At this thought of Weatherbee his brows clouded, and that last letter, theone that had reached him at Nome and which he still carried in his breastpocket, seemed suddenly to gather a vital quality. It was as though itcried out: "I can't stand these everlasting ice peaks, Hollis; they crowdme so. "

Miss Armitage sat obliviously looking off once more across the valley. Thethunder-heads, denser now and driving in legions along the oppositeheights, stormed over the snow peak and assailed the far, shining dome. 

"Oh, " she exclaimed, "see Rainier now! That blackest cloud is lifting overthe summit. Rain is streaming from it like a veil of gauze; but the domestill shines through like a transfigured face!"

Tisdale's glance rested a moment on the wonder. His face cleared. "If wewere on the other side of the Cascades, " he said, "that weather-cap wouldmean a storm before many hours; but here, in this country of little rain, I presume it is only a threat. "

The bays began to round a curve and presently Rainier, the lesser heights, all the valley of Kittitas, closed from sight. They had reached the timberbelt; poplars threaded the parks of pine, and young growths of fir, likethe stiff groves of a toy village, gathered hold on the sharp mountainslopes. Sometimes the voice of a creek, hurrying down the canyon to jointhe Yakima, broke the stillness, or a desert wind found its way in andwent wailing up the water-course. And sometimes in a rocky place, thehoof-beats of the horses, the noise of the wheels, struck an echo fromspur to spur. Then Tisdale commenced to whistle cautiously, in fragmentsat first, with his glance on the playing ears of the colts, untilsatisfied they rather liked it, he settled into a definite tune, but withthe flutelike intonations of one who loves and is accustomed to make hisown melody. 

He knew that this woman beside him, since they had left the civilizationof the valley behind, half repented her adventure. He felt the barrierstrengthen to a wall, over which, uncertain, a little afraid, she watchedhim. At last, having finished the tune, he turned and surprised the covertlook from under her curling black lashes. 

"I hope, " he said, and the amusement broke softly in his face, "all thisappraisal is showing a little to my credit. "

The color flamed pinkly in her face. She looked away. "I was wondering ifyou blamed me. I've been so unconservative--so--so--even daring. Is it nottrue?"

"No, Miss Armitage, I understand how you had to decide, in a moment, totake that eastbound train in Snoqualmie Pass, and that you believed itwould be possible to motor or stage across to Wenatchee from the Milwaukeeroad. "

"Yes, but, " she persisted, "you think, having learned my mistake, I shouldhave stayed on the freight train as far as Ellensburg, where I could havewaited for the next passenger back to Seattle. "

"If you had, you would have disappointed me. That would have completelyspoiled my estimate of you. "

"Your estimate of me?" she questioned. 

"Yes. " He paused and his glance moved slowly, a little absently, up theunfolding gorge. "It's a fancy of mine to compare a woman, on sight, withsome kind of flower. It may be a lily or a rose or perhaps it's aflaunting tulip. Once, up in the heart of the Alaska forest, it was just asweet wood anemone. " He paused again, looking off through the trees, and ahint of tenderness touched his mouth. "For instance, " he went on, and hisvoice quickened, "there is your friend, Mrs. Feversham. I never have mether, but I've seen her a good many times, and she always reminds me of oneof those rich, dark roses florists call Black Prince. And there's hersister, who makes me think of a fine, creamy hyacinth; the sturdy sort, able to stand on its own stem without a prop. And they are exotics, bothof them; their personality, wherever they are, has the effect of a strongperfume. "

He paused again, so long that this time his listener ventured to prompthim. "And I?" she asked. 

"You?" He turned, and the color flushed through his tan. "Why, you arelike nothing in the world but a certain Alaska violet I once stumbled on. It was out of season, on a bleak mountainside, where, at the close of amiserable day, I was forced to make camp. A little thing stimulates a mansometimes, and the sight of that flower blooming there when violet timewas gone, lifting its head next to a snow-field, nodding so pluckily, holding its own against the bitter wind, buoyed me through a desperatehour. "

She turned her face to look down through the treetops at the complainingstream. Presently she said: "That is better than an estimate; it is atribute. I wish I might hope to live up to it, but sooner or later, " andthe vibration played softly in her voice, "I am going to disappoint you. "

Tisdale laughed, shaking his head. "My first impressions are the ones thatcount, " he said simply. "But do you want to turn back now?"

"N--o, unless you--do. "

Tisdale laughed again mellowly. "Then it's all right. We are going to seethis trip through. But I wish I could show you that Alaska mountainside inmidsummer. Imagine violets on violets, thousands of them, springingeverywhere in the vivid new grass. You can't avoid crushing some, nomatter how carefully you pick your steps. There's a rocky seat half-way upon a level spur, where you might rest, and I would fill your lap withthose violets, big, long-stemmed ones, till the blue lights danced in youreyes. "

They were doing that now, and her laugh fluted softly through the wood. For that moment the barrier between them lost substance; it became thesheerest tissue, a curtain of gauze. Then the aloofness for which hewaited settled on her. She looked away, her glance again seeking thestream. "I can't imagine anything more delightful, " she said. 

A rough and steep breadth of road opened before them, and for a while thebays held his attention, then in a better stretch, he felt her swiftside-glance again reading his face. "Do you know, " she said, "you are notat all the kind of man I was led to expect. "

"No?" He turned interestedly, with the amusement shading the corners ofhis mouth. "What did you hear?"

"Why, I heard that you were the hardest man in the world to know; the mostelusive, shyest. "

Tisdale's laugh rang, a low note from the depths of his mellow heart. "Andyou believed that?"

She nodded, and he caught the blue sparkles under her drooping lids. "Youknow how Mrs. Feversham has tried her best to know you; how she sent youinvitations repeatedly to dinner or for an evening at Juneau, Valdez, Fairbanks, and you invariably made some excuse. "

"Oh, but that's easily explained. Summers, when she timed her visits toAlaska, I was busy getting my party into the field. The working season upthere is short. "

"But winters, at Seattle and in Washington even, it has been the same. "

"Winters, why, winters, I have my geological reports to get in shape forthe printer; interminable proofs to go over; and there are so manynecessary people to meet in connection with my work. Then, too, if theseason has been spent in opening country of special interest, I like toprepare a paper for the geographical society; that keeps me in touch withold friends. "

"Old friends, " she repeated after a moment. "Do you know it was one ofthem, or rather one of your closest friends, who encouraged my delusion inregard to you?"

"No, how was it?"

"Why, he said you were the hardest man in the world to turn, a man of ironwhen once you made up your mind, but that Mrs. Feversham was right; youwere shy. He had known you to go miles around, on occasion, to avoid atown, just to escape meeting a woman. And he told us--of course I canrepeat it since it is so ridiculously untrue--that it was easier to bridlea trapped moose than to lead you to a ballroom; but that once there, nodoubt you would gentle fine. "

She leaned back in her seat, laughing softly, though it was obviously ajoke at her own expense as well as Tisdale's. "And I believed it, " sheadded. "I believed it--every word. "

Tisdale laughed too, a deep undernote. "That sounds like Billy Foster. Iwager it was Foster. Was it?" he asked. 

She nodded affirmatively. 

"Then Foster has met you. " Tisdale's voice rang a little. "He knows you, after all. "

"Yes, he could hardly help knowing me. His business interests are with myclosest friends, the Morgansteins; they think a great deal of him. And hehappens to play a remarkably good hand at bridge; we always depend on himto make up a table when he is in town. "

Tisdale's eyes rested a thoughtful moment on the road ahead. StrangeFoster never had mentioned her. But that showed how blind, how completelyinfatuated with the Spanish woman the boy was. His face set austerely. Then suddenly he started; his grasp tightened on the reins so that thecolts sprang to the sharp grade. "Do you happen to know that enchantress, too?" he asked. 

"Whom?" questioned Miss Armitage. 

"I mean Mrs. Weatherbee. I believe she counts the Morgansteins among herfriends, and you said you were staying at Vivian Court, where herapartments are. "

"Oh, yes, I know--her. I"--the color flamed and went in her face; herglance fell once more to the steep slope, searching out the narrowingstream through the trees. "I--'ve known Beatriz Weatherbee all my life. I--I think a great deal of her. "

"Madam, madam!" Tisdale protested, "don't tell me that. You have knownher, lived near her, perhaps, in California, those years when you weregrowing up; shared the intimacies young girls enjoy. I understand allthat, but don't say you care anything for her now. "

Miss Armitage lifted her face. Her eyes did not sparkle then; they flamed. "Why shouldn't I, Mr. Tisdale? And who are you to disparage BeatrizWeatherbee? You never have known her. What right have you to condemn her?"

"This right, Miss Armitage; she destroyed David Weatherbee. And I knowwhat a life was lost, what a man was sacrificed. "

CHAPTER VII

A NIGHT ON THE MOUNTAIN ROAD

They drove on for a long interval in silence. The colts, sobered by thesharp pull to the divide, kept an even pace now that they had struck thedown-grade, and Tisdale's gaze, hard still, uncompromising, remained fixedabsently on the winding road. Once, when the woman beside him ventured tolook in his face, she drew herself a little more erect and aloof. She musthave seen the futility of her effort to defend her friend, and the firethat had flashed in her eyes had as quickly died. It was as though shefelt the iron out-cropping in this man and shrank from him baffled, almostafraid. Yet she held her head high, and the delicate lines, etched againat the corners of her mouth, gave it a saving touch of decision orfortitude. 

But suddenly Hollis drew the horses in. Miss Armitage caught a greatbreath. The way was blocked by a fallen pine tree, which, toppling fromthe bluff they were skirting, had carried down a strip of the road andstarted an incipient slide. "We can't drive around, " he said at last, andthe humor broke the grim lines of his mouth. "We've got to go through. "

She looked hastily back along the curve, then ahead down the steepmountainside. "We never could turn in this pla--ace, but it isn't possibleto drive through. Fate is against us. "

"Why, I think Fate favored us. She built this barricade, but she left usan open door. I must unhitch, though, to get these kittens through. "

As he spoke he put the reins in her hands and, springing out, felt underthe seat for the halters. The girl's glance moved swiftly along thetilting pine, searching for that door. The top of the tree, with itsdebris of branches, rested prone on the slope below the road; but thetrunk was supported by a shoulder of the bluff on which it had stood. Thisleft a low and narrow portal under the clean bole between the first thickbough and the wall. "But the buggy!" she exclaimed. 

"That's the trouble. " Tisdale found one halter as he spoke and reached forthe other. "It is getting this trap over that will take time. But I pledgemyself to see you through these mountains before dark; and when we strikethe levels of the Columbia, these colts are going to make their record. "

"You mean we can't hope to reach Wenatchee before dark?" Her voice shooka little. "And there isn't a house in sight--anywhere. Mr. Tisdale, wehaven't even seen another traveler on this road. "

"Well, this is luck!" He was drawing a coil of new rope from under theseat. "This is luck! Lighter must have meant to picket his horses. Did Itell you he was starting to drive these bays through to the fair at NorthYakima? And here is a hatchet--he expected to cut fire-wood--and thislooks like his lunch-box. Yes, "--and he lifted the lid to glance in--"hereare biscuits, sliced ham, all we need. Lighter must have intended to spenda night on the road. And here is that second hitching-strap. Now, we areall right: the outfit is complete. "

He took the precaution to tie one of the horses before he commenced tounfasten the traces, and he worked swiftly, dexterously, while the girlwatched him, directing him sometimes from her seat in the buggy. Presentlyhe lifted the remaining strap, but before he could snap the hook in thering, the colt's ears flattened back, and he gripped Tisdale's hand. Instantly Miss Armitage snatched the whip and was on her feet. "Whoa, Nip, " she cried, and cut the vixen lightly between the ears. "Whoa, now, whoa!"

The young horse released his hold and broke forward, with Hollis draggingat the bit. He ducked with the colt under the barrier and, keeping hisfeet with difficulty, ran hugging the bluff. Rocks, slipping beneath thebay's incautious hoofs, rattled down the steep slope. Finally mastered bythat tugging weight, he settled to an unstable pace and so passed thebreak in the road. 

Miss Armitage had left the buggy. She followed to the opening and stoodwatching Tisdale until, unable to find a safe hitching-place, he turnedanother bend. The remaining horse pulled at his halter and neighed shrillyfor his mate. She went to him. After a moment she untied him and led himthrough the passage. He followed easily, crowding her sometimes, yetchoosing his steps with the caution of a superior animal in a hardsituation. Midway over the break in the road, where it was narrowest, hehalted with a forefoot on a perilous table of granite, feeling, testingits stability. "That's right, be careful, " she admonished, allowing thestrap to slacken while she, herself, balanced her weight on the rockingslab. "But it is safe enough--you see. Now, now, Tuck, come on. "

But as she started on, Tisdale reappeared at the curve and, waving herhand to reassure him, she took an incautious step. The slab, relievedsuddenly of her weight, tilted back and at the same instant caught on itslowered edge the weight of the following horse. He backed off, jerking thehalter taut, but she kept her hold, springing again to the surface of therock. Loose splinters of granite began to clatter down the slope; then, inthe moment she paused to gather her equilibrium, she felt Tisdale's armreaching around to take the strap. "Creep by me, " he said quietly. "No, between me and the bluff, sidewise; there's room. " She gained safe groundand stood waiting while he brought the bay across. A last rain of rockstruck an answering echo through the gorge. 

"What made you?" he asked. "You knew I would hurry back. What made you?handicapped, too, by those skirts and abominable heels. "

"I saw you were hurt--the vixen meant to hurt--and I knew I could manageTuck. I--I thought you might need me. "

Her breath was coming hard and quick; her eyes were big and shadowy and, looking into their depths, the light began to play softly in his own. "Youthought right, " he said. "I am going to. "

He turned to lead the horse around to the cleft where he had left hismate. Miss Armitage followed. She regarded his broad back, pursing herlips a little and ruffling her brows. "It is only a bruise, " he saidpresently over his shoulder, "and it served me right. Lighter warned me ofthat trick. "

Nevertheless the handkerchief with which he had wrapped the bruise wasshowing a red stain, and past the break in the road he changed the halterto his left hand. The hitching-place he had chosen was in a cleft formedby a divided spur of the mountain. It was roofed by the boughs of twopines, and the boles of the trees offered secure hold. She seated herselfon a boulder, set benchwise against the rocky wall, and watched himcritically while he tied the second horse. 

"How pleasant, " she said intrepidly; "it is like coming unexpectedly intoa room ready furnished in brown and green. "

Tisdale turned. "I could make you comfortable in this pocket, if it cameto that, " he said. "It's sheltered and level as a floor, and I could makeyou a bed, springy and fragrant, of boughs; the camp-fire would close thedoor. And you needn't go hungry with Lighter's lunch and your apples; orthirsty with my drinking-cup to fill down there at the stream. "

Even before he finished speaking her brows arched in protest, and he feltthe invisible barrier stiffen hard as a wall. "We really must hurry, Mr. Tisdale, " she said, rising. "Though it may be impossible to reachWenatchee to-night, we must find some sort of house. And where there is ahouse, there must be housekeeping and"--her voice wavered--"a woman. "

"Of course, " he answered. "And we have at least two hours of daylightleft. Don't worry; I am going now to hurry that carriage around. "

He had said "of course, " but while he went back to the buggy, his mindreviewed the sordid shelters he had found in just such solitudes, where awoman's housekeeping was the exception. Men in communities employed campcooks, but most prospectors, ranchers, and cattlemen depended onthemselves. There had been times when he himself had been forced to makebread. He had learned that first winter he had spent in Alaska withWeatherbee. At the thought of that experimental mixture, he smiled grimly. Then, suddenly, he imagined this gently nurtured woman confronted by anight in such a shack as they had occupied. He saw her waiting expectantlyfor that impossible chaperon; and, grasping the situation, strugglingpluckily to cover her amazement and dismay; he saw himself and Weatherbeenerving each other to offer her that miserable fare. He hoped they wouldfind a housekeeper at the first house on that mountain road, but thatlunch of Lighter's gave him a sense of security, like a reserve fund, inadequate, yet something against imminent panic. 

Miss Armitage did not return to her seat when he was gone. She fell topacing the level; to the upper spur and back; to the lower wall andreturn; then, finally, it was a few yards further to the bend, to discoverwhat progress Tisdale had made. The buggy was not yet in sight, but thenew rope stretched diagonally from beyond the breach in the road to astanding tree on the bluff above her, and he was at work with the hatchet, cutting away an upright bough on the fallen pine. Other broken limbs, gathered from the debris, were piled along the slide to build up the edge. When his branch dropped, he sprang down and dragged it lengthwise toreinforce the rest. Presently he was on the log again, reaching now forthe buggy tongue, he set his knee as a brace on the stump of the limb, his muscular body bent, lifted, strained. Then the front wheels rolled upacross the bole; he slipped to the ground and grasped the outer one, steadying it down. After a moment, when he had taken in the slack of theline, the remaining tires slowly followed, and he began to ease thevehicle along the patched roadway. The rain of rock was renewed; fragmentsof granite shifted under the bulkhead of boughs; the buggy heeled lower, lower; then, at the final angle, began to right while the rope strungtaut. The narrowest point was passed, and Tisdale stopped a breathingspace. 

It was characteristic of the man to see the humor of the situation in thatmoment while he stood wiping the perspiration from his face. Jove, howFoster would enjoy seeing him labor like this for a girl. He imagined theboy sitting up there at some coign of vantage on the bluff, admonishing, advising him dryly, while he laughed in his sleeve. It was undeniablyfunny. Alone, with one of Lighter's saddle-horses under him, his baggagesecured behind the saddle, he might have been threading the dunes of theColumbia now. This incipient slide need not have caused him ten minutes'delay, and eight, nine o'clock at the latest, would have found him puttingup for the night at the hotel in Wenatchee. But here he was hardly overthe divide; it was almost sunset, but he was dragging a buggy by handaround a mountain top. He hoped Foster never would find out what he hadpaid for these bays--the team of huskies that had carried him the longtrek from Nome to the Aurora mine and on through Rainy Pass had cost less. Still, under the circumstances, would not Foster himself have done thesame? She was no ordinary woman; she was more than pretty, more thanattractive; there was no woman like her in all the world. To travel thislittle journey with her, listen to her, watch her charms unfold, was worththe price. And if it had fallen to Foster, if he were here now to feel thespell of her, that Spanish woman would lose her hold. Then he rememberedthat Foster knew her; she had admitted that. It was inconceivable, but hehad known her at the time he confessed his infatuation for Weatherbee'swife. The amusement went out of Tisdale's face. He bent, frowning, to freethe buggy of the rope. 

It was then Miss Armitage, exhilarated at his success, hurried forwardfrom the bend. "Oh, " she cried radiantly, "how resourceful, how strong youare. It looked simply impossible; I couldn't guess what you meant to do, and now we have only to hitch the team and drive on to Wenatchee. But, "she added gravely and shook her head, "it was defying Fate. "

He turned, regarding her from under still cloudy brows, though the geniallines began to deepen anew. "I told you Fate was on our side. She threwthose boughs there in easy reach. She might as well have said: 'There'ssome lumber I cut for you; now mend your road. '"

"Perhaps, well, perhaps, " the girl laughed softly. "But if Fate had saidthat to any other man, at least to any man I know, he would not haveheard. "

But the Columbia was still far off when darkness closed, and with sunsetthe thunder-heads they had watched across the Kittitas Valley gatheredbehind them. It was as though armies encamped on the heights they hadleft, waiting for night to pass. Then searchlights began to play on thelower country; there was skirmishing along the skyline; blades flashed. 

At last, between the lightning flashes, the blackness was so dense it washardly possible for Tisdale to see the road, and he could not trust thenervous team to keep the track; it was necessary to stop, at least to waituntil the moon should rise. But while he was preparing to tell her so, thesilence was broken by the barking of a dog. Instantly it was swelled by adeeper baying, and the echo rang a continuous clamor through the gorge. Then a faint illumination brought out in silhouette a final bluff ahead;rounding it, they saw a low-roofed habitation, and in the open door awoman with a lamp. 

One of the dogs stood bristling and growling beside her; the other, barking furiously, sprang from the porch so that for a moment Tisdale wasbusy with the plunging team. Then the woman spoke, and the setter, whimpering, snapping furtively, crept back to her feet. 

"We have been delayed by an accident, " Tisdale explained briefly, "and Iwant you to take this lady in for the night. Make her comfortable aspossible, and I will see it is worth your while. "

"This ain't much of a road-house. " The woman held the lamp higher toscrutinize the lady's face. "We only got one room, an' the best I can dois to double up with the kids an' give you my bed. "

"That will do very well, " answered Tisdale quickly. "I can take care ofmyself. Of course there's a stable somewhere out here in the dark, and abale or two of hay. "

"No, we got a shed up, but we're short on feed. We're short on 'bouteverything: flour, potatoes, bacon, beans. We've just took up this hereclaim, an' things ain't growed. But my man's gone down to Wenatchee tofetch a load. " Then, seeing this fact was hardly one to solace hertransient guests, she laughed shortly and went into the cabin to set thelamp on a table and bring a lantern that hung on the farther wall. 

Tisdale turned to help Miss Armitage down. "We may be able to find betteraccommodations towards the Columbia, when the moon rises, " he said, "but Ican't be as sure of another--chaperon. " Then, looking into her face, headded in his minor key: "I am sorry, but you will make the best of things, I know. And the night will pass. Come. "

She slipped down beside him and stood holding her skirts out of thepowdery soil, while her wide eyes searched that interior through the opendoor. Tisdale lifted the baggage from the buggy to the porch, then thewoman returned with the lantern and, followed by the dogs, went to showhim where he might stable the horses. After a moment Miss Armitageventured up the low steps to the threshold. It was a portable cabin suchas she had noticed from the train window at intervals where constructionwas incomplete along the new railroad. It was battered and weak, showingold earmarks of transportation, but it was furnished with a rustycook-stove, some bench chairs, and two beds, which stood in the farthercorners and nearly filled that half of the room. A few heavy dishes, thepart of a loaf of bread, and several slices of indifferently fried baconwere on the table, between the lamp and a bucket containing a littlewater. Presently, still holding her skirts, she crossed the grimy floorand stood inspecting with a mingled fascination and dread those ancientbeds. Both were destitute of linen, but one was supplied with a tumbledheap of coarse, brown blankets. In the other, beneath a frayed comforter, two small boys were sleeping. Their sun-baked faces were overhung withthatches of streaked blond hair, and one restless arm, throwing off thesodden cover, partly exposed the child's day attire, an unclean denimblouse tucked into overalls. She turned in sudden panic and hurried backto the porch. 

In a little while she noticed her suitcase, opened it, and found hercologne; with this she drenched a fresh handkerchief and began to batheher face and hands. Then she drew one of the bench chairs through thedoorway and, seating herself with her back to the room, kept on dabbingher lips and her cheeks with the cool, delicately pungent perfume, and sogathered up the remnants of her scattered fortitude. Finally, when thelantern glimmered again, and she was able to distinguish the two returningfigures, she had laid aside her hat and coat, and she was ready to smile, if not radiantly at least encouragingly, at Tisdale as he came up thesteps. 

The woman went in to shake out and spread the blankets with a pretence atmaking the bed, and he followed to the threshold, where he took a swiftand closer inventory of the room. Its resources were even more meager thanhe had supposed. He swung around and looked up through the darknesstowards that sheltered cleft they had left near the Pass. He did not sayanything, but the girl watching him answered his thought. "I wish it hadbeen possible. It would have been delightful--the ground was like acarpet, clean and soft and fragrant--under those pines. "

"I wish we had even had the forethought to bring down an armful of thoseboughs. But, after all, it might have been worse. At least you need not gohungry, with that lunch of Lighter's and your apples, to say nothing ofthe sandwiches I asked the steward to make before I left the train. Andto-morrow, when you are safe with your friends at Wenatchee, you are goingto forget this miserable experience like an unpleasant dream. "

"I am not ungrateful, " she said quickly. "I enjoyed every moment of thatdrive. And besides the apples, I have tea. I always tuck a little in mysuitcase when we are touring with Mrs. Feversham, because she uses adifferent blend. "

She bent as she spoke, to find the tea, which she produced together with asmall kettle and alcohol burner. Her evident desire to contribute hershare, the fine show of courage that accepted and made the best of theinevitable, went straight to Tisdale's heart. "Tea, " he repeated mellowly, "tea and all the outfit. Well, that was mighty thoughtful of you. I won'teven have to make a fire. But wait a minute; I am going to lift that tableout here where it is cooler. "

With two seats, there was barely room for it on the porch. Then, while hefilled the kettle and lighted the burner, she spread the cloth, a finedamask towel supplied also from her baggage. On the whole it was a rathergay little supper and, considering the limitations of the menu, it bridgeda long interval. Tisdale, who had been accustomed to drink tea black andbitter on a hard trail, but habitually refused it socially, tasted his cupwith deliberation. "Miss Armitage, " he exclaimed, "you can't delude me. Whatever this beverage may be, I am sure it is no ordinary tea. "

She was pouring a second cup when his glance fell from her face to herhands. They were delicately made, artistic, with wilful little thumbs, yetthey impressed him with a certain resourcefulness, a strength in reserve. Suddenly the light from the lantern which he had hung on a nail in thewall above the table, struck an exceedingly large ruby she wore on herleft hand. It glowed blood-red, scintillated, flamed. He saw the stone wasmounted with diamonds in a unique setting of some foreign workmanship, andhe told himself it was probably an heirloom; it was too massive, tooornate for a betrothal ring; still he moved uneasily and set the cup downuntasted. His eyes returned to her face, questioning, doubting. He waslike a musician surprised to detect in a beautiful symphony the firstfalse note. 

After that the conversation lagged. It was not cool on the porch. Abroadside of lightning sweeping the cabin showed it stood in a narrowvalley walled by precipitous, barren slopes and widening gulfwise towardsthe Columbia desert. The pent air seemed surcharged. It was as though thattable was set in a space between running dynamos, and when a strongerflash came, Miss Armitage instinctively grasped her chair, holding herselffrom contact with an unseen and terrible force. Once, during an interlude, the silence was broken by a strange, faint cry. 

"Did you hear?" she asked breathlessly. "What was it?"

Tisdale smiled into her troubled eyes. "Why, just a cougar; lonesome, Iguess, and calling his mate. But it's all right. Sounds carry in thesemountain gorges, and his cry was picked up by some cross wind miles fromhere. Look at those dogs! They wouldn't stay curled up there on the groundasleep, too indifferent to prick up an ear, if a cougar, or even a coyote, were near. "

Still she was not wholly reassured. She leaned forward, listening, tryingto fathom the darkness with a lurking terror in her eyes. At last, whenTisdale rose to say good night, she, too, left her chair. She laid herhand on the edge of the table as though that might steady her voice. "Areyou going to the stable?" she asked. "Did you find a possible bed?"

Hollis laughed. "You needn't trouble about me. I am the sort of fellow tofind the soft side of a plank. Yes, it's true. There have been times whenI've slept luxuriously on a board, with just my coat rolled up for apillow. "

There was a brief pause while her imagination grasped the thought; then:"You must have been very tired, " she said. 

"I was, " he answered dryly and reached to take the lantern from the wall. At the foot of the steps he halted and put the light down to pick up hisbag, which he opened. "Here's a bunch of my handkerchiefs, " he said. "Theyare bigger than yours. They should make you at least a pillow-case. Goodnight. "

The setter rose to follow inquiringly at his heels; the lantern swunggently to his tread and, as his shape disappeared in the gloom, hiswhistle, sweet, soft, almost tender, fluted back to her. It was the "Goodnight" from the opera of _Martha_. And Miss Armitage smiled in the face ofFear and turned resolutely to go in. 

But the next moment she was back again over the threshold. "Mr. Tisdale!"she called, and the currents held so long in check surged in her voice. "Mr. Tisdale!"

Instantly the lantern swung an arc. He came quickly back to the steps. "Well, " he said, breaking the pause, "what is the trouble?"

"I know I must seem foolish--but--please don't go--yet. " Her position onthe edge of the porch brought her face almost on a level with his. Hereyes in the semi-darkness were luminously big; her face, her whole bodyquivered. She leaned a little towards him, and her nearness, the low, vibrant intensity of her voice, set his pulses singing. 

"I really can't stay in that room, " she explained. "Those beds all buttouch, and she, the mother, has crowded in, dressed as she is, to sleepwith the children. There isn't any air to breathe. I--I really can't makemyself lie down--there. I had rather spend the night here on the piazza. Only--please wait--until--"

Tisdale laughed his short, mellow note. "You mean you are afraid of thedark, or is it the cougar?"

"It's both and the lightning, too. There! See how it plays along thoseawful heights; javelins of it; whole broadsides. I know it is foolish, butI can't help feeling it is following me. It singles me out, threatens meas though I am--guilty. "

"Guilty? You? Of what?" Tisdale put down the lantern and came up thesteps. "See here, Miss Armitage, come take your chair. " He moved it aroundfrom the table and laid his hand on her arm, impelling her into the seat. "Now face it out. Those flashes of heat lightning are about as dangerousas the Aurora Borealis. You ought to know that. "

Then, because the personal contact had set his blood racing, he moved awayto the edge of the porch and stood frowning off up the gorge. He knew shecovered her face with her hands; he believed she was crying, and hedesired beyond all reason to take her to his heart and quiet her. He onlysaid: "But I understand. I have seen strong men just as foolish before anelectrical storm, and the bravest woman I ever knew lost her grip onestill morning just from solitude. "

There was another silence, then suddenly she lifted her head. "I amsorry, " she said, "but it is all over. I shall try my best not to annoyyou any more. "

"Annoy me? Why, you haven't. What makes you think that?" Tisdale turned, and the mellowness stole into his voice. "I didn't expect you to creep inand go to sleep tranquilly alongside that bunch of sage. "

At this she smiled. "You have found a flower to fit even her. "

"I never made a misfit--yet, " he answered and waited, looking into herface, reading her through. 

"But you have doubts, " she supplemented, "and I warned you I shoulddisappoint you. I warned you at the start. "

Tisdale laughed again, softly. "The odds were all against that Alaskaviolet, " he said, "but she weathered it through. " And seating himself onthe steps, he looked up again to the night-enshrouded Pass. The air wascooler; a light wind, drawing down from the divide, brought a hint ofdampness; it was raining somewhere, far off. "My doubts are all right, " headded, "and I am going to stay here as long as you want me to. "

CHAPTER VIII

THE BRAVEST WOMAN HE EVER KNEW

Presently, during one of the interludes when darkness enveloped the gulf, she began to entertain Tisdale with an experience in the Sierras, a littleadventure on one of those journeys with her father, when she had drivenPedro and Don José. But though she told the story with composure, evenwith a certain vivacity and charm, as she might have narrated it to asmall and intimate audience in any safe drawing-room, her self-control wasa transparency through which he saw her anxiety manoeuvering, in spite ofhis promise, to keep him there. 

"Strange, is it not?" she went on, "how things will take the gloss ofhumor, looking back. That cloudburst was anything but funny at the time;it was miserably exasperating to stand there drenched, with thecomfortable quarters of the mining company in sight, cut off by animpassable washout. And it was wretched driving all those miles to ourhotel in wet clothes, with not so much as a dry rug to cover us; yetafterwards, whenever I tried to tell about it, I failed to gain a shred ofsympathy. People laughed, as you are doing now. "

"And you laughed with them, " answered Tisdale quickly, "because lookingback you caught the right perspective. It is always so. Another incidentthat seemed trivial in passing will loom up behind us like a cliff on thehorizon. And it is so with people. The man who held the foreground throughsheer egoism sinks to his proper place in obscurity, while a little, white-faced woman we knew for a day stands out of the past like amonument. "

His brows clouded; he turned from the lantern light to look off again tothe shrouded mountain tops. "And looking back, " he added, "the man youthought you knew better than the rest, the partner, friend, to whom, whenyou were reminded and it suited your convenience, you were ready to do aservice, stands out from the shadows clearly defined. It is under the testof those high lights behind that his character shines. You wonder at hisgreatness. His personality takes a stronger, closer hold, and you wouldgive the rest of your life just to go back and travel the old, hard roadagain with him. "

There was a long silence, broken once more by that far, wailing cry on thewind. Miss Armitage started. She laid her hand on Tisdale's shoulder, thenearest object, in a tightening grip, while for a breathless moment sheleaned forward, trying to penetrate the darkness of the gorge. The actionseemed to remind him of her presence, and he turned to look at her. "Frightened again?" he asked. 

Her hand fell; she settled back in her seat. "N-o, not very much, but ittook me off guard. It sounds so desolate, so--so--supernatural; like thecry of a doomed soul. "

Tisdale smiled. "That describes it, but you never have heard it at closerange. "

She shivered; her glance moved again in apprehension to thenight-enshrouded Pass. "Have you, Mr. Tisdale?"

"Yes, lonesome nights by a mountain camp-fire, with just the wind pipingdown a ravine, or a cataract breaking over a spur to fill the interlude. "

"Oh, that must have been terrifying, " and the shiver crept into her voice. "But what did you do?"

"Why, I hurried to pull the embers together and throw on more spruceboughs. A cougar is cautious around a fire. "

There was another silence, then, "I was thinking of your little, white-faced woman, " said Miss Armitage. "She baffles me. Was she yourbravest woman or just your anemone? Would you mind telling me?"

"So you were thinking of her. That's odd; so was I. " Tisdale changed hisposition, turning to lean on the edge of the porch with his elbow restingon the floor. "But it was that Gordon setter there that reminded me ofher. Her dog had the same points, though he had been better trained. " Hepaused briefly, then said: "She was both. She was like that small, whiteflower which grows in the shelter of the Alaska woods--sweet and modestand frail looking--yet she was the bravest woman and the strongest when itcame to endurance I ever knew. "

"It happened, of course, in Alaska, " Miss Armitage ventured, breaking thepause. "You knew her there?"

"Yes, it was in Alaska and about five years ago. The season I gave upgetting rich in a hurry and went back to geological work. I had spent thewinter on the Tanana with David Weatherbee. We had staked a promisingplacer, and we were ready to begin sluicing with the first spring thaw, when he sold his interest unexpectedly to meet an obligation down in theStates. That nettled me, and I sold out my own share to the same men andaccepted a position with the department, who had written to ask me to takecharge of a party working above Seward. Weatherbee started with me, but Ileft him to prospect along the headwaters of the Susitna. My surveys keptme in the neighborhood of Turnagain Arm until midsummer, when I moved campup the river to the mouth of an unexplored tributary. It was the kind ofstream to lure a prospector or a sportsman, clear, rapid, broken byriffles and sand-bars, while the grassy shores looked favorable for elk orcaribou. To bridge the delay while the last pack-horses straggled in andthe men were busy pitching tents and putting things into shape, I decidedto go on a short hunting trip. I traveled light, with only a singleblanket rolled compactly for my shoulder strap, in case the short nightshould overtake me, with a generous lunch that Sandy, the cook, hadsupplied, but at the end of two hours' steady tramping I had sightednothing. I had reached a wooded ravine and a snow-peak, apparently thesource of the stream, closed the top of the gorge. It was the heart of thewilderness, over a hundred miles from a settlement and off the track ofroad-houses, but a few rods on I came upon the flume and dump of a placermine. The miner's cabin stood a little farther up the bank under a clumpof spruce, but the place seemed abandoned. Then I noticed some berrybushes near the sluice had been lately snapped off, where some heavyanimal had pushed through, and a moment later, in the moist soil at asmall spillway, I picked up the trail of a large bear. 

"The tracks led me up the rough path towards the cabin, but midway I cameto a fallen tree. It must have been down a week or more, but no attempthad been made to clear the trail or to cut through, so, pushing up overthe matted boughs, I leaped from the bole to avoid the litter beyond. Atthe same instant I saw under me, wedged in the broken branches, the bodyof my bear. He was a huge grizzly, and must have made an easy and uglytarget as he lumbered across the barricade. I found one bullet had takenhim nearly between the eyes, while another had lodged in the shoulder. Andit was plain the shots were aimed from the window, with the rifle probablyresting on the sill. 

"As I went on up the path, the loud baying of a dog came from the cabin, then a woman's face, young and small and very white, appeared at thewindow. Seeing me, she turned quickly and threw open the door. The nextinstant her hand fell to the neck of a fine Gordon setter and, tugging athis collar, she drew back and stood surveying me from head to foot. 'It'sall right, madam, ' I said, stopping before her. 'Don't try to hold him. The bear won't trouble you any more. You made a mighty fine shot. '

"'Oh, ' she said, and let the dog go, 'I am so glad you have come. ' And shesank into a chair, shaking and sobbing. "

"You mean, " exclaimed Miss Armitage breathlessly, "it was she who killedthe bear?"

Tisdale nodded gently. "I wish I could make you understand the situation. She was not a sportswoman. She was city bred and had been carefullyreared--accustomed to have things done for her. I saw this at a glance. Only her extremity and the fear that the dog would be hurt nerved her toshoot. "

"Oh, I see, I see, " said Miss Armitage. "Fate had brought her, left her inthat solitary place--alone. "

"Fate?" Tisdale questioned. "Well, perhaps, but not maliciously; not injest. On second thought I would not lay it to Fate at all. You see, shehad come voluntarily, willingly, though blindly enough. She was one of thefew women who are capable of a great love. "

Tisdale waited, but the woman beside him had no more to say. "I saw I mustgive her time to gather her self-control, " he went on, "so I turned myattention to the setter, who was alternately springing on me and excitedlywagging his tail. I like a good dog, and I soon had him familiarlysnuffing my pockets; then he stretched himself playfully, with aninquiring, almost human yawn; but suddenly remembering the bear, he stoodpointing, head up, forepaw lifted, and made a rush, baying furiously. 

"'It's all right, madam, ' I repeated and stepped into the room. 'You madea fine shot, and that bearskin is going to make a great rug for yourfloor. '

"She lifted her face, downing a last sob, and gave me a brave littlesmile. 'It isn't altogether the bear, ' she explained. 'It's partly becauseI haven't seen any one for so long, and partly because, for a moment, Ithought you were my husband. I've been worried about him. He has been goneover three weeks, and he never stayed longer than five days before. But itwas a relief to have you come. '

"It sounds differently when I repeat it. You lose the sweet shyness of herface, the appeal in her eyes not yet dry, and that soft minor chord in hervoice that reminds me now of a wood-thrush. 

"'I understand, ' I hurried to say, 'the solitude has grown intolerable. Iknow what that means, I have lived so long in the eternal stillnesssometimes that the first patter of a rain on the leaves came like thetramp of an army, and the snapping of a twig rang sharp as a pistol shot. '

"'You do understand, ' she said. 'You have been through it. And, of course, you see my husband had to leave me. The trail up the canyon is the merestthread. It would have been impossible for me, and I should have onlyhindered him, now, when every day counts. '

"'You mean, ' I said, 'he has left his placer to prospect for the main lodeabove?' And she answered yes. That every gravel bar made a better showing;the last trip had taken him above the tree line, and this time he expectedto prospect along the glacier at the source of the stream. Sometimeserosions laid veins open, and any hour 'he might stumble on riches. ' Shesmiled again, though her lip trembled, then said it was his limited outfitthat troubled her most. He had taken only a light blanket and a smallallowance of bacon and bread. 

"'But, ' I reassured her, 'there is almost a certainty he has found game atthis season of the year. '

"She looked at the rifle she had set by the window against the wall. 'Ihaven't been able to persuade him to take the gun, ' she explained, 'for along time. He doesn't hunt any more. ' She stopped, watching me, and lockedher slim hands. Then, 'He is greatly changed, ' she went on. 'The last timehe came home, he hardly noticed me. He spent the whole evening sittingwith his eyes fixed on the floor--without a word. And the next morning, before I was awake, he was gone. '

"At last her real fear was clear to me. There is a terrible fascinationabout those Alaska gold streams. Each gravel bar has just showing enoughto lead a man on and on. He hugs the belief from hour to hour he is on thebrink of a great find, until he has eyes for nothing but the colors in thesand. He forgets hunger, weariness, everything, and finally, if rescuefails him, he sinks in complete collapse. More than once I had come onsuch a wreck, straying demented, babbling, all but famished in the hills. And I was sorry for that little woman. I understood the pitch she musthave reached to speak so freely to a passing stranger. But it was hard tofind just the right thing to say, and while I stood choosing words, shehurried to explain that two days before she had taken the dog and trampedup-stream as far as she had dared, hoping to meet her husband, and thatshe had intended to go even farther that day, but had been prevented, as Isaw, by the bear, who had prowled about the cabin the greater part of thenight. The setter's continual barking and growling had failed to drive himaway. 

"'If you had gone this morning, ' I said, 'I should have missed you; then Ishouldn't have known about your husband. I am on my way up this canyon, and I shall look for him. And, when I find him, I shall do my best tobring him in touch with the outside world again. '"

Tisdale paused. The abrupt slope that over-topped the portable cabin beganto take shape in the darkness. It had the appearance of a sail loomingthrough fog. Then the shadows scattered, and the belated moon, liftingover the dunes beyond the Columbia, silvered the mouth of the gorge. Itwas as though that other distant canyon, of which he was thinking, openedbefore him into unknown solitudes. 

Miss Armitage leaned forward, watching his face, waiting for the issue ofthe story. 

"And you found him?" she asked at last. 

"Yes. In the end. " Tisdale's glance returned and, meeting hers, the grimlines in his face relaxed. "But there was a long and rough tramp first. She urged me to take the setter, and I saw the advantage in having a gooddog with me on such a search; any cleft, or thicket, or sprinkle ofboulders, might easily conceal a man's body from one passing only a fewfeet off--but, much as he favored me, he was not to be coaxed far from hismistress; so I suggested she should go, too. 

"'Oh, ' she said, catching at the chance, 'do you think Jerry can make upfor the delay, if I do? I will travel my best, I promise you. ' And she ledthe way, picking up the faint trail and setting a pace that I knew mustsoon tire her, while the dog brushed by us, bounding ahead and rushingback and expressing his satisfaction in all sorts of manoeuvers. 

"In a little while, above the timber--the tree line is low on those Alaskamountainsides--we came to a broad, grassy bog set deep between two spurs, and she was forced to give me the lead. Then the canyon walls grewsteeper, lifting into rugged knobs. Sometimes I lost the prospector'strail in a rock-choked torrent and picked it up again, where it hung likea thin ribbon on a heather-grown slope; but it never wound or doubled ifthere was foothold ahead. It led up stairs of graywacke, along the brinkof slaty cliffs that dropped sheer, hundreds of feet to the stream below. Still she kept on pluckily, and whenever I turned to help her, I found herthere at my elbow, ready. Now and then in breadths of level, where it waspossible to walk abreast, we talked a little, but most of the distance wascovered in silence. I felt more and more sorry for her. She was so eager, patient, watchful, forever scanning the pitches on either side. And if thesetter made a sudden break, scenting a bare perhaps, or starting aptarmigan, she always stopped, waiting with a light in her face; and whenhe jogged back to her heels, the expectation settled into patience again. 

"Finally we came to a rill where I urged her to rest; and when I hadspread my blanket on a boulder, she took the seat, leaning comfortablyagainst a higher rock, and watched me while I opened the tin box in whichSandy had stored my lunch. She told me my cook made a good sandwich andknew how to fry a bird Southern fashion. Then she spoke of the Virginiatown where she had lived before her marriage. The trip west had been herwedding journey, and her husband, who was an architect, had intended toopen an office in a new town on Puget Sound, but at Seattle he caught theAlaska fever. 

"'The future looked very certain and brilliant then, ' she said, with hersmile, 'but as long as I have my husband, nothing else counts. I couldlive out my life, be happy here in this wilderness, anywhere, with him. IfI could only have him back--as he used to be. '"

Tisdale's voice softened, vibrating gently, so that the pathos of it allmust have impressed the coldest listener. The woman beside him trembledand lifted her hand to her throat. 

"I can't remember all she told me, " he went on, "but her husband had lefther in Seattle when he started north, and the next season, when he failedto return for her, she had sailed to Seward in search of him. She hadtried to influence him to give up the placer, when she saw the change inhim; at least to go down to one of the coast towns and take up the workfor which he had prepared, but he had delayed, with promises, until he wasbeyond listening to her. 

"'Of course he may stumble on riches any hour, as he believes, ' she saidfinally, 'but not all the comforts or luxuries in the world are worth theprice. ' She did not break down, as she had in the cabin, but somehow Icould hear the tears falling in her voice. I can yet, and see them big andshining deep in her eyes. 

"But she was off again, making up the delay, before I could fasten mypack, and when I overtook her in a level stretch and halted a moment tofrolic with the dog, her face brightened. Then she spoke of a little trickshe had taught him, --to go and meet his master and fetch his hat to her. Sometimes she had hidden it in shrubs, or among rocks, but invariably hehad brought it home. 

"At last we made a turn and saw the front of the glacier that closed thetop of the gorge. The stream gushed from a cavern at the foot, and abovethe noise of water sounded the grinding and roaring of subterranean forcesat work. Once in a while a stone was hurled through. But that isimpossible to explain. You must have been on intimate terms with a glacierto grasp the magnitude. Still, try to imagine the ice arching that cavelike a bridge and lifting back, rimmed in moraine, far and away to thegreat white dome. And it was all wrapped in a fine Alpine splendor, sothat she stopped beside me in a sort of hushed wonder to look. But I couldhear her breath, laboring hard and quick, and she rocked uncertainly onher feet. I laid my hand on her arm to steady her. It was time we turnedback. For half an hour I had been gathering courage to tell her so. WhileI hesitated, allowing her a few minutes to take in the glory, the setterran nosing ahead, up over the wreckage along the edge of the glacier, andon across the bridge. I waited until he disappeared in a small pocket, then began: 'You know, madam, what all this color means. These twilightslinger, and it will be easier traveling down-grade, but we must hurry, tohave you home before dark. '

"She turned to answer but stopped, looking beyond me to the bridge. Then Isaw the setter had caught her attention. He was coming back. His blackbody moved in strong relief against the ice-field, and I noticed he hadsomething in his mouth. It seemed about the size and color of a grouse, --aptarmigan, no doubt. Then it flashed over me the thing was a hat. At thesame moment I felt her tremble, and I had just time to see that her facehad gone white, when she sank against me, a dead weight. I carried her afew yards to a bank of heather and laid her down, and while I was fillingmy folding cup at the stream, the dog bounded over the rocks and droppedthe thing on her breast. It was a hat, a gray felt with a good brim, suchas a prospector, or indeed any man who lives in the open, favors; but thesetter's actions, --he alternately rushed towards the glacier and back tohis mistress, with short yelps, --warned me to be careful, and I tucked thehat out of sight, between two stones. The dog had it out instantly, benton giving it to her, but I snatched it from him and threw it into thetorrent, where it struck upright, floating lightly on the brim, and lodgedin a shallow. He followed and came bounding back with it, while I wasraising the cup to her lips, and I had barely a chance to crowd it into myblanket roll when she opened her eyes. 'He had Louis' hat, ' she said anddrifted into unconsciousness again. 

"I took my flask from my pocket and, blaming myself for bringing her thathard trip, mixed a draught. It revived her, and in a moment she startedup. 'Where is the hat?' she asked, looking about her. 'Jerry had it on theice-bridge. '

"At the sound of her voice, the dog, who had been trying to get at thehat, commenced his manoeuvers to attract her across the gorge, boundingahead, calling her with his short, excited barks, and making all the signsof a hunting dog impatient to lead to the quarry. She tried to get to herfeet, but I put my hand on her shoulder. 'Wait, madam, ' I said. 'You mustrest a little longer before you try to start back. You were so tired youfainted. And your eyes must have played you a trick. '

"'You mean, ' she began and stopped. 

"I am not much of a dissembler, and I found it hard to meet her look, butI answered with all the assurance I could muster. 'I mean, madam, you aremistaken about that hat. '

"She waited a moment, watching the setter, then her glance moved backincredulously to me. 'Then what excites Jerry?' she asked. 

"'Why, ' I hurried to answer, 'just another bunch, of ptarmigan, probably. But while you are resting here, I will go over into that pocket to satisfyhim. '

"The setter, content with my company, ran ahead, and I followed him acrossthe ice-bridge. The pocket was thickly strewn with broken rock, but at theupper end there was a clear space grown with heather. And it was there, asI feared, between a bluff and a solitary thumb-shaped boulder that the doghad found his master. "

Tisdale paused, looking off again with clouding brows to the stormyheights. Eastward the moon in a clear sky threw a soft illumination on thedesert. The cry of the cougar had ceased. The electrical display was lessbrilliant; it seemed farther off. Miss Armitage moved a little and waited, watching his face. 

"But of course, " she ventured at last, "you mixed another draught fromyour emergency flask. The stimulant saved his life. "

"No. " Tisdale's glance came slowly back. "He was beyond any help. A squareof canvas was set obliquely on the glacier side, and that and the blanketwhich covered him proved the place was his camp; but the only traces offood were a few cracker or bread crumbs in a trap made of twigs, and amarmot skin and a bunch of ptarmigan feathers to show the primitivecontrivance had worked. There was no wood in the neighborhood, but theashes of a small fire showed he must have carried fuel from the belt ofspruce half-way down the gorge. If he had made such a trip and not gone onto the cabin, it clearly proved his mental condition. Still in the endthere had been a glimmer of light, for he had torn a leaf from hisnotebook and written first his wife's name and then a line, out of which Iwas only able to pick the words 'give' and 'help' and 'States. ' Evidentlyhe had tried to put the paper into his poke, which had dropped, untied, from his hand with the pencil he had used. The sack was nearly full; ithad fallen upright in a fold of the blanket, so only a little of the gold, which was very coarse and rough and bright, had spilled. I made all thisinventory almost at a glance, and saw directly he had left his pan andshovel in the gravels of a stream that cascaded over the wall and throughthe pocket to join the creek below the glacier. Then it came over me thatI must keep the truth from her until she was safely back at the cabin, andI put the poke in my pocket and hurried to do what I could. 

"The setter hampered me and was frantic when I turned away, alternatelyfollowing me a few yards, whining and begging, and rushing back to hismaster. Finally he stopped on the farther side of the ice-bridge and setup a prolonged cry. His mistress had come to meet me and she waited at thecrossing, supporting herself with her hands on a great boulder, shouldersforward, breath hushed, watching me with her soul in her eyes. At last Ireached her. 'Madam, ' I began, but the words caught in my throat. I turnedand looked up at the splendor on the mountain. The air drew sharp acrossthe ice, but a sudden heat swept me; I was wet with perspiration from headto foot. 'Madam, ' and I forced myself to meet her eyes, 'it is just as Iexpected; the dog found--nothing. '

"She straightened herself slowly, still watching me, then suddenly threwher arms against the rock and dropped her face. 'Come, ' I said, 'we muststart back. Come, I want to hurry through to my camp for a horse. '

"This promise was all she needed to call up her supreme self-control, andshe lifted her face with a smile that cut me worse than any tears. 'I'mnot ungrateful, ' she said, 'but--I felt so sure, from the first, you wouldfind him. '

"'And you felt right, ' I hurried to answer. 'Trust me to bring himthrough. '

"I whistled the setter, and she called repeatedly, but he refused tofollow. When we started down the trail, he watched us from his post at thefarther end of the ice-bridge, whining and baying, and the moment shestopped at the first turn to look back, he streaked off once more for thatpocket. 'Never mind, ' I said, and helped her over a rough place, 'Jerryknows he is a good traveler. He will be home before you. ' But it was plainto me he would not, and try as I might to hurry her out of range of hiscry, it belled again soon, and the cliffs caught it over and over andpassed it on to us far down the gorge. "

There was one of those speaking silences in which the great heart of theman found expression, and the woman beside him, following his gaze, siftedthe cloudy Pass. She seemed in that moment to see that other canyon, stretching down from the glacier, and those two skirting the edge ofcliffs, treading broken stairs, pursued by the cry of the setter into thegathering gloom of the Arctic night. 

"It grew very cold in that gorge, " he went on, "and I blamed myself fortaking her that trip more and more. She never complained, never stopped, except to look back and listen for the dog, but shadows deepened under hereyes; the patient lines seemed chiseled where they had been only lightlydrawn, and when she caught me watching her and coaxed up her poor littlesmile, I could have picked her up in my arms and carried her the rest ofthe way. But we reached the tree-line before she came to her limit. It wasat the turn in a cliff, and I stopped, looking down across the tops of abelt of spruce, to locate the cabin. 'There it is, ' I said. 'You see thatlittle brown patch down there in the blur of green. That is your house. You are almost home. '

"She moved a step to see better and stumbled, and she only saved herselfby catching my arm in both hands. Then her whole body fell to shaking. Ifelt unnerved a little, for that matter. It was a dangerous place. I hadbeen recklessly foolish to delay her there. But when I had found a safeseat for her around the cliff, the shivering kept up, chill after chill, and I mixed a draught for her, as I had at the glacier. 

"'This will warm your blood, ' I said, holding the cup for her. 'Come, madam, we must fight the cold off for another hour; that should see youhome. After I have made a good fire, I am going to show you what a finelittle supper I can prepare. Bear steaks at this season are prime. '

"I laughed to encourage her, and because the chills were still obstinate, I hurried to unstrap my blanket to wrap around her. And I only rememberedthe hat when it dropped at her feet. She did not cry out but sat like amarble woman, with her eyes fixed on it. Then, after a while, she bent andlifted it and began to shape it gently with her numb little fingers. Shewas beyond tears, and the white stillness of her face made me morehelpless than any sobbing. I could think of nothing to say to comfort herand turned away, looking off in the direction of the cabin. It seemedsuddenly a long distance off. 

"Finally she spoke, slowly at first, convincing herself. 'Jerry did bringit across the ice-bridge. He found Louis and stayed to watch, as Ithought. Sir, now tell me the truth. '

"I turned back to her, and it came bluntly enough. Then I explained it wasnot an accident or anything terrible; that the end had come easily, probably the previous night, of heart failure. 'But I couldn't nervemyself to tell you up there, ' I said, 'with all those miles of hard travelbefore you; and I am going back to-morrow, as I promised, to bring himthrough. '

"She had nothing to say but rose and held out her hand. In a little whileI began to lead her down through the belt of spruce. I moved very slowly, choosing steps, for she paid no attention to her footing. Her hand restedlimply in mine, and she stumbled, like one whose light has gone out in adark place. "

Tisdale's story was finished, but Miss Armitage waited, listening. It wasas though in the silence she heard his unexpressed thoughts. 

"But her life was wrecked, " she said at last. "She never could forget. Think of it! The terror of those weeks; the long-drawn suspense. Sheshould not have stayed in Alaska. She should have gone home at thebeginning. She was not able to help her husband. Her influence was lost. "

"True, " Tisdale answered slowly. "Long before that day I found her, shemust have known it was a losing fight. But the glory of the battle is notalways to the victor. And she blamed herself that she had not gone northwith her husband at the start. You see she loved him, and love with thatkind of woman means self-sacrifice; she counted it a privilege to havebeen there, to have faced the worst with him, done what she could. "

Miss Armitage straightened, lifting her head with that movement of aflower shaken on its stem. "Every woman owes it to herself to keep herself-respect, " she said. "She owes it to her family--the past and futuregenerations of her race--to make the most of her life. "

"And she made the most of hers, " responded Tisdale quickly. "That was hercrowning year. " He hesitated, then said quietly, with his upward look fromunder slightly frowning brows: "And it was just that reason, the debt toher race, that buoyed her all the way through. It controlled her there atthe glacier and gave her strength to turn back, when the setter refused tocome. Afterwards, in mid-winter, when news of the birth of her son camedown from Seward, I understood. "

An emotion like a transparent shadow crossed his listener's face. "Thatchanges everything, " she said. "But of course you returned the next daywith a horse to do as you promised, and afterwards helped her out tocivilization. "

"I saw Louis Barbour buried, yes. " Tisdale's glance traveled off again tothe distant Pass. "We chose a low mound, sheltered by a solitary spruce, between the cabin and the creek, and I inscribed his name and the date onthe trunk of the tree. But my time belonged to the Government. I had aparty in the field, and the Alaska season is short. It fell to DavidWeatherbee to see her down to Seward. "

"To David Weatherbee?" Miss Armitage started. Protest fluctuated with thesurprise in her voice. "But I see, I see!" and she settled back in herseat. "You sent him word. He had known her previously. "

"No. When I left him early in the spring, he intended to prospect down theheadwaters of the Susitna, you remember, and I was carrying my surveysback from the lower valley. We were working toward each other, and Iexpected to meet him any day. In fact, I had mail for him at my camp thathad come by way of Seward, so I hardly was surprised the next morning, when I made the last turn below the glacier with my horse to see oldWeatherbee coming over the ice-bridge. 

"He had made a discovery at the source of that little tributary, where theerosion of the glacier had opened a rich vein, and on following the streamthrough graywackes and slate to the first gravelled fissure, he had foundthe storage plant for his placer gold. He was on his way out to have theclaim recorded and get supplies and mail when he heard the baying setterand, rounding the mouth of the pocket, saw the camp and the deadprospector. Afterwards, when he had talked with the woman waiting down thecanyon, he asked to see her husband's poke and compared the gold with thesample he had panned. It was the same, coarse and rough, with littlescraps of quartz clinging to the bigger flakes sometimes, and he insistedthe strike was Barbour's. He tried to persuade her to make the entry, butshe refused, and finally they compromised with a partnership. "

"So they were partners. " Miss Armitage paused, then went on with a touchof frostiness: "And they traveled those miles of wilderness alone, fordays together, out to the coast. "

"Yes. " Tisdale's glance, coming back, challenged hers. "Sometimes thewilderness enforces a social code of her own. Miss Armitage, "--his voicevibrated softly, --"I wish you had known David Weatherbee. But imagine SirGalahad, that whitest knight of the whole Round Table, Sir Galahad on thatAlaska trail, to-day. And Weatherbee was doubly anxious to reach Seward. There was a letter from his wife in that packet of mail I gave him. Shehad written she was taking the opportunity to travel as far as Seward withsome friends, who were making the summer tour of the coast. But he wasready to cut the trip into short and easy stages to see Mrs. Barbourthrough. 'It's all right, ' he said at the start. 'Leave it to me. I amgoing to take this lady to my wife. '"

"And--at Seward?" questioned Miss Armitage, breaking the pause. 

"At Seward his wife failed him. But he rented a snug cottage of somepeople going out to the States and had the good fortune to find a motherlywoman, who knew something about nursing, to stay with Mrs. Barbour. It wasChristmas when her father arrived from Virginia to help her home, and itwas spring before she was able to make the sea voyage as far as Seattle. "

"Expenses, in those new, frontier towns, are so impossible; I hope herfather was able"--she halted, then added hurriedly, flushing underTisdale's searching eyes, "but, of course, in any case, he reimbursed Mr. Weatherbee. "

"He did, you may be sure, if there was any need. But you have forgottenthat poke of Barbour's. There was dust enough to have carried her througheven an Alaska winter; but an old Nevada miner, on the strength of thatshowing, paid her twenty thousand dollars outright for her interest in theclaim. "

Miss Armitage drew a deep breath. "And David Weatherbee, too? He sold hisshare--did he not--and stayed on at Seward?"

"Yes, he wasted the best weeks of the season in Seward, waiting for hiswife. But she never came. She wrote she had changed her mind. He showed methat letter one night at the close of the season when he stopped at mycamp on his way back to the Tanana. It was short but long enough to remindhim there were accounts pressing; one particularly that she called a 'debtof honor. ' She hadn't specified, but I guessed directly she had beenaccepting loans from her friends, and I saw it was that that had worriedhim. To raise the necessary money, he had been obliged to realize on thenew placer. His partner had been waiting to go in to the claim with him, and Weatherbee's sudden offer to sell made the mining man suspicious. Herefused to buy at any price. Then David found an old prospector whom hehad once befriended and made a deal with him. It was five hundred dollarsdown, and two thousand out of the first year's clean-up. And he sent allof the ready money to her and started in to make a new stake belowDiscovery. But the inevitable stampede had followed on the Nevada man'sheels, and the strike turned out small. 

"It was one of those rich pockets we find sometimes along a glacier thatmake fortunes for the first men, while the rank and file pan out defeatand disappointment. There was the quartz body above, stringers and veinsof it reaching through the graywackes and slate, but to handle itWeatherbee must set up a stamp-mill; and only a line of pack-mules fromthe Andes, and another line of steamships could transport the ore to thenearest smelter, on Puget Sound. So--he took up the long trek northwardagain, to the Tanana. Think of it! The irony of it!"

Tisdale rose and turned on the step to look down at her. The light fromthe lantern intensified the furrows between his brooding eyes. "And thinkwhat it meant to Weatherbee to have seen, as he had, day after day, hourafter hour, the heart of another man's wife laid bare, while to his own hehimself was simply a source of revenue. "

Miss Armitage too rose and stood meeting his look. Her lip trembled alittle, but the blue lights flamed in her eyes. "You believe that, " shesaid, and her voice dropped into an unexpected note. "You believe he threwaway that rich discovery for the few hundreds of dollars he sent his wife;but I know--she was told--differently. She thought he was glad to--escape--at so small a price. He wrote he was glad she had reconsidered that trip;Alaska was no place for her. "

"Madam, " Tisdale remonstrated softly, "you couldn't judge David Weatherbeeliterally by his letters. If you had ever felt his personality, you wouldhave caught the undercurrent, deep and strong, sweeping between the lines. It wasn't himself that counted; it was what was best for her. You couldn'testimate him by other men; he stood, like your white mountain, alone abovethe crowd. And he set a pedestal higher than himself and raised his wifethere to worship and glorify. A word from her at any time would haveturned the balance and brought him home; her presence, her sympathy, eventhat last season at the Aurora mine, would have brought him through. Iwish you had seen his face that day I met him below the glacier and hadtold him about the woman waiting down the gorge. 'My God, Tisdale, ' hesaid, 'suppose it had been my wife. '"

Miss Armitage stood another moment, locking her hands one over the otherin a tightening grip. Her lip trembled again, but the words failed. Sheturned and walked uncertainly the few steps to the end of the porch. 

"You believe she might have influenced him, but I do not. Oh, I see, Isee, how you have measured him by your own great heart. But"--she turnedtowards him and went on slowly, her voice fluctuating in little, steadyingpauses--"even if you were right, you might be generous; you might try toimagine her side. Suppose she had not guessed his--need--of her; been ableto read, as you did, between the lines. Sometimes a woman waits to betold. A proud woman does. " She came back the few steps. "BeatrizWeatherbee isn't the kind of woman you think she is. She has faults, ofcourse, but she has tried to make the best of her life. If she made amistake--or thought she had--no one else knew it. She braved it through. She's been high-strung, too. "

Tisdale put up his hand. "Don't say any more; don't try to excuse her tome. It's of no use. Good night. " But a few feet from the porch he stoppedto add, less grimly: "I should have said good morning. You see how thatpyramid stands out against that pale streak of horizon. There is only timefor a nap before sunrise. Day is breaking. "

She was silent, but something in the intensity of her gaze, the unspokenappeal that had also a hint of dread, the stillness of her small face, white in the uncertain light when so lately he had seen it sparkle andglow, brought him back. 

"I've tired you out, " he said. "I shouldn't have told you that story. Butthis outlook to-night reminded me of that other canyon, and I thought itmight help to bridge over the time. There's nothing can tide one throughan unpleasant situation like hearing about some one who fared worse. And Ihadn't meant to go so far into details. I'm sorry, " and he held out hishand, "but it was your interest, sympathy, something about you, that drewme on. "

She did not answer directly. She seemed to need the moment to find hervoice and bring it under control. Then, "Any one must have beeninterested, " she said, and drew away her hand. "You have thestory-teller's gift. And I want to thank you for making it all so clearto me; it was a revelation. "

CHAPTER IX

THE DUNES OF THE COLUMBIA

Behind them, as Tisdale drove down, the heights they had crossed werestill shrouded in thunder-caps, but before them the end of the Wenatcheerange lifted clear-cut, in a mighty promontory, from the face of thedesert. Already the morning sun gave a promise of heat, and as the baysrounded a knoll, Miss Armitage raised her hands to shade her eyes. 

"What color!" she exclaimed. "How barbarous! How ages old! But don't saythis is the Columbia, Mr. Tisdale. I know it is the Nile. Those are theruins of Thebes. In a moment we shall see the rest of the pyramids and theSphinx. "

Tisdale brought the horses around a sand-pit in the road which began toparallel the river, rolling wide and swift and intensely blue, where therapids ceased, then he glanced at the other shore, where fantastic columnsand broken walls of granite rose like a ruined city through a red glory. 

"It is worth coming from New York to see, but you have traveled abroad. Doyou know, that disappoints me. A true American should see America first. "

"Then I confess. " The girl laughed softly. "I haven't been nearer the Nilethan a lantern-slide lecture and the moving-picture show. But my fatherknew Egypt when he was a boy; maybe I've inherited some memories, too. "

Her enthusiasm was irresistible. Looking into her glowing face, themirth-provoking lines broke and re-formed at the corners of his own mouthand eyes. 

"But, " he explained after a moment, "this desert of the Columbia is notold; it's tremendously new; so new that Nature hasn't had time to take thescaffolding away. You know--do you not--this was all once a great inlandsea? Countless glacial streams brought wash down from the mountains, filling the shallows with the finest alluvial earth. Then, in some bigupheaval, one or perhaps several of these volcanic peaks poured down astrata of lava and ash. As the ice tongues receded, the streams graduallydried; only the larger ones, fed far back in the range, are left to-day. "

"How interesting!" Her glance swept upward and backward along the heightsand returned to the levels. "And naturally, as the bed of the sea was laidbare, these last streams found the lowest depression, the channel of theColumbia. "

Her quickness, her evident desire to grasp the great scheme of things, which other women received with poorly veiled indifference, often hurriedto evade, warmed his scientist soul. "Yes, " he answered, "Natureremembered, while she was busy, to construct the main flume. She might aswell have said, when it was finished: 'Here are some garden tracts Ireclaimed for you. Now get to work; show what you can do. '"

"And are you going to?" Her voice caught a little; she watched his facecovertly yet expectantly, her breath arrested, with parted lips. 

"Perhaps. I am on my way to find a certain garden spot that belonged toDavid Weatherbee. He knew more about reclamation than I, for he grew upamong your California orchards, but I have the plans he drew; I ought tobe able to see his project through. "

"You mean you may buy the land, Mr. Tisdale, if--things--are as youexpect?"

"Yes, provided I have Mrs. Weatherbee's price. "

"What do you consider the tract is worth?"

"I couldn't make a fair estimate before I have been over the ground. Seattle promoters are listing Wenatchee fruit lands now, but theWeatherbee tract is off the main valley. Still, the railroad passes withina few miles, and the property must have made some advance since he boughtthe quarter section. That was over nine years ago. He was a student atStanford then and spent a summer vacation up here in the Cascades with aparty of engineers who were running surveys for the Great Northern. Oneday he was riding along a high ridge at the top of one of those aridgulfs, when he came to a bubbling spring. It was so cool and pleasant upthere above the desert heat that he set up a little camp of his own in theshade of some pine trees that rimmed the pool, and the rest of the seasonhe rode to and from his work. Then he began to see the possibilities ofthat alluvial pocket under irrigation, and before he went back to collegehe secured the quarter section. That was his final year, and he expectedto return the next summer and open the project. But his whole future waschanged by that unfortunate marriage. His wife was not the kind of womanto follow him into the desert and share inevitable discomfort and hardshipuntil his scheme should mature. He began to plan a little Eden for her atthe core, and to secure more capital he went to Alaska. He hoped to make arich strike and come back in a year or two with plenty of money to hurrythe project through. You know how near he came to it once, and why hefailed. And that was not the only time. But every year he stayed in thenorth, his scheme took a stronger hold on him. He used to spend longArctic nights elaborating, making over his plans. He thought and broodedon them so much that finally, when the end came, up there in the Chugachsnows, he set up an orchard of spruce twigs--"

"I know, I know, " interrupted Miss Armitage. "Please don't tell it overagain. I--can't--bear it. " And she sank against the back of the seat, shuddering, and covered her eyes with her hands. 

Tisdale looked at her, puzzled. "Again?" he repeated. "But I see you musthave heard the story through Mr. Feversham. I told it at the clubhouse thenight he was in Seattle. "

"It's impossible to explain; you never could understand. " She sat erect, but Tisdale felt her body tremble, and she went on swiftly, with littlebreaks and catches: "You don't know the hold your story has on me. I'vedreamed it all over at night; I've wakened cold and wet with perspirationfrom head to foot, as though I--too--were struggling through those frozensolitudes. I've been afraid to sleep sometimes, the dread of facing--it--is so strong. "

Watching her, a sudden tenderness rose through the wonder in Tisdale'sface. 

"So you dreamed you were fighting it through with me; that's strange. ButI see the story was too hard for you; Feversham shouldn't have told it. "He paused and his brows clouded. "I wish I could make Weatherbee's wifedream it, " he broke out. "It might teach her what he endured. I have goneover the ground with her in imagination, mile after mile, that long trekfrom Nome. I have seen her done for, whimpering in a corner, like theweakest husky in the team, there at the Aurora mine, and at her limitagain up in Rainy Pass. And once lately, the night of the club supper, while I was lying awake in my room, looking off through the window to theharbor lights and the stars, I heard her crying deeply from the heart. Shedid not seem like herself then, but a different woman I was mighty sorryfor. "

Miss Armitage turned and met his look, questioning, hardly comprehending. "That sounds occult, " she said. 

"Does it? Well, perhaps it is. But a man who has lived in the big spaceshas his senses sharpened. He sees farther; feels more. "

There was a silent moment. The colts, topping a low dune, felt thepressure of the fills on the down-grade, and the nigh horse broke, turningthe front wheel into a tangle of sage. "Mr. Tisdale, " she cried a littletremulously, "do you think this is a catboat, tacking into a squall?Please, please let me drive. "

Her effort was supreme. It relieved the tension, and when the change wasmade, she drew to the edge of the seat, holding her head high like thatintrepid flower to which he had compared her. 

"You mean, " she said evenly, "the terrible silence of your big spaces keysup the subjective mind. That, of course, was the trouble with Mrs. Barbour's husband. He allowed it to dominate him. But a man like you"--andshe gave him her swift, direct look, and the shadow of a smile touched hermouth--"well-balanced, strong, would have kept the danger down. I shouldnever be afraid--for you. But, " she hurried on, "I can understand too howin the great solitudes some men are drawn together. You have shown me. Idid not know before I heard your story how much a man can endure for afriend--and sacrifice. "

Tisdale looked off over the desert. "Friendship up there does meansomething, " he answered quietly. "Mere companionship in the Alaskawilderness is a test. I don't know whether it's the darkness of thoseinterminable winters, or the monotony that plays on a man's nerves, but Ihave seen the closest partners get beyond speaking to each other. It's alife to bring out the good and the bad in a man; a life to make men hate;and it can forge two men together. But David Weatherbee never had anenemy. He never failed a man. In a crisis he was great. If things had beenreversed"--he set his lips, his face hardened--"if Weatherbee had been inmy place, there at Nome, with a letter of mine in his hands, he wouldn'thave thrown away those four days. "

"Yes, he would. Consider. He must have taken time to prepare for thatterrible journey. How else could he have carried it through?" She leanedforward a little, compelling his glance, trying to reason down the tragedyin his face. 

"How can you blame yourself?" she finished brokenly. "You must not. I willnot--let you. "

"Thank you for saying that. " Tisdale's rugged features worked. He laid hishand for an instant over hers. "If any one in the world can set me rightwith myself, it is you. "

After that they both were silent. They began to round the bold promontoryat the end of the Wenatchee range; the Badger loomed on the rim of thedesert, then Old Baldy seemed to swing his sheer front like an openedportal to let the blue flood of the Columbia through. The interest creptback to her face. Between them and those guardian peaks a steel bridge, fine as a spider web, was etched on the river, then a first orchard brokethe areas of sage, the rows of young trees radiating from a small, newdwelling, like a geometrical pattern. Finally she said: "I would like toknow a little more about Mrs. Barbour. Did you ever see her again, Mr. Tisdale? Or the child?"

"Oh, yes. I made it a point the next winter, when I was in Washington, torun down into Virginia and look them up. And I have always kept in touchwith them. She sends me new pictures of the boy every year. He keeps herbusy. He was a rugged little chap at the start, did his best to grow, andbright!"--Tisdale paused, shaking his head, while the humorous linesdeepened--"But he had to be vigorous to carry the name she gave him. Did Itell you it was Weatherbee Tisdale? Think of shouldering the names of twofull-sized men on that atom. But she picked a nice diminutive out of it--'Bee. '

"It was a great christening party, " he went on reminiscently. "Shearranged it when she passed through Seattle and had several hours to waitfor her train. The ceremony was at Trinity, that stone church on the firsthill, and the Bishop of Alaska, who was waiting too, officiated. I was intown at the time, getting my outfit together for another season in thenorth, but Weatherbee had to assume his responsibilities by proxy. "

"Do you mean David Weatherbee was the child's godfather?"

"One of them, yes. " Tisdale paused, and his brows clouded. "I wish the boyhad been his own. That would have been his salvation. If David Weatherbeehad had a son, he would be here with us now, to-day. "

Miss Armitage was silent. She looked off up the unfolding watercourse, andthe great weariness Tisdale had noticed that hour before dawn settledagain on her face. 

He laid his hand on the reins. "You are tired out, " he said. "Come, givethe lines to me. You've deceived me with all that fine show of spirits, but I've been selfish, or I must have seen. The truth is, I've beenhumoring this hand. "

"You mean, " she said quickly, "this vixen did hurt you yesterday more thanyou would admit?"

"Oh, no, but the friction of the reins can make even a scratchuncomfortable after a while, and my glove is getting tight. A littleperoxide, when we reach a pharmacy, will fix it all right. "

But Miss Armitage watched him doubtfully. She assured him she was nottired and that she loved to drive. Had she not told him so at the start?Then, as they left the promontory, her glance followed the road ahead. Thebridge was no longer fine as a spider web; it was a railroad crossing ofsteel, and the long eaves of the Great Northern depot lifted near, flankedby the business blocks of a town. "Wenatchee!" she exclaimed; andwavering, asked: "_Isn't_ this Wenatchee?"

"Yes, Miss Armitage, I am afraid that it is. You are back to civilization. A few minutes more and, if you will give me their address, you will besafe with your friends. "

"I did not say I had any friends in Wenatchee, Mr. Tisdale. I am going onto Hesperides Vale. But please leave me at any quiet hotel. I can't thankyou enough for all your kindness and patience, " she went on hurriedly. "For making this trip possible. All I can hope to do is share theexpense. " And she found the inside pocket of her coat and drew out a smallsilver purse. 

Tisdale, driving slowly, divided his attention between his team and thebuildings on either side. "There is a public garage, " he said, "and arival establishment opposite. You will have no trouble to finish your tripby automobile, as you planned. It will be pleasant making the run up thevalley this evening, when it is cool. "

Miss Armitage opened her purse. "The rates must be considerably higher ona rough mountain road than on the Seattle boulevard, and, of course, onecouldn't expect to hire Nip and Tuck at ordinary rates. "

Tisdale drew in, hesitating, before a hotel, then relaxed the reins. "Thebuilding seems modern, but we may find a quiet little inn up some sidestreet with more shade. "

"I presume you will drive on up the valley, " she said, after a moment, "and start back to Kittitas to-morrow. Or will it be necessary to rest theteam a day?"

"I shall drive on to that tract of Weatherbee's this afternoon; but Iexpect to take the westbound train to-night, somewhere up the valley. "

"I see, " she said quickly and tried to cover her dismay, "you intend toship the team back to Kittitas by way of Seattle. I'm afraid"--her voicebroke a little, the color flushed pinkly to her forehead, her ears, andher glance fell to the purse in her lap--"but please tell me the charges. "

"Madam, " and the ready humor crinkled the corners of his mouth, "when Iship these horses back to Lighter, he is going to pay the freight. "

She drew a quick breath of relief, but her purse remained open, and shewaited, regarding Tisdale with an expectant, disconcerting side-glance ofher half-veiled eyes. "And the day rates for the use of the team?" sheasked. 

For a moment he was busy turning the horses. They had reached a secondhotel, but it proved less inviting than the first, and the side streetsthey had crossed afforded no quiet inn, or indeed any dwelling in theshade. "After all, " he said, "a room and bath on the north side, withwindows looking up the Columbia, should make you fairly comfortablethrough the heat of the day. " But the girl waited, and when his eyes fellto that open purse, his own color burned through the tan. There was nohelp for it; she must know the truth. He squared his shoulders, turning alittle toward her. "There are no expenses to share, Miss Armitage. I--happened to own this team, and since we were traveling the same way, I wasglad to offer you this vacant seat. "

"Do you mean you bought these horses--outright--at Kittitas?"

"Yes, the opportunity was too good to miss. " He tried to brave theastonishment in her eyes, but his glance moved directly to the colts. "And, you see, if I should buy that tract of Weatherbee's, I am going toneed a team. "

"Doubtless, " answered Miss Armitage slowly. "Still, for breaking wild landor even cultivating, one would choose a steadier, heavier team. But theyare beauties, Mr. Tisdale, and I know a man in Seattle who is going to bedisappointed. I congratulate you on being able to secure them. " She closedthe purse at last and reluctantly put it away, and she added, with themerriment dimpling her lips: "Fate certainly was with me yesterday. "

They had reached the hotel, and as he drew up to the curb, a man came fromthe lobby to hold the bays. Several traveling salesmen stood smoking andtalking outside the entrance, while a little apart a land promoter and hispossible capitalist consulted a blue print; but there was a general pauseas Tisdale sprang out, and the curious scrutiny of wayfarers in a smalltown was focussed on the arrivals. 

"It looks all right, " he said quietly, helping her down, "but if you findanything wrong, or should happen to want me, I shall be at that otherhotel until two o'clock. Good-by!"

He saw the surprise in her face change to swift appreciation. Then"Good-by, " she answered and walked towards the door. But there she stopped. Tisdale, looking back as he gave her suitcase to a boy, saw her lips part, though she did not speak. Then her eyelids drooped, the color playedsoftly in her face, and she turned to go in. There had been no invitationin her attitude, yet he had felt a certain appeal. It flashed over him shedid not want to motor up the valley; she wished to drive on with him. Tooproud, too fine to say so, she was letting her opportunity go. He hurriedacross the pavement. 

"Miss Armitage, " he said, and instantly she turned; the sparkles leaped inher eyes; she came towards him a few steps and stopped expectantly. "If Istart up the valley at two"--and he looked at his watch--"that will be arest of nearly three hours. It means the heat of the day, but if it seemsbetter than motoring over a country road with a public chauffeur, I wouldbe glad to have you drive for me. "

CHAPTER X

A WOMAN'S HEART-STRINGS

"Now I know the meaning of Wenatchee. It's something racy, Mr. Tisdale, and a little wicked, yet with unexpected depths, and just the coolest, limpid hazel-green. "

Tisdale's pulses quickened; his blood responded to her exhilaration. "Yes, only"--and he waited to catch the glance she lifted from the stream--"yourgreen is blue, and you forgot to count the sparkles in. "

As he spoke, the bays paced off the bridge. They sprang, gatheringthemselves lightly for a sharp ascent and for an interval held thedriver's close attention. The town and the Columbia were behind, and theroad, which followed the contour of the slopes rising abruptly from theWenatchee, began a series of sudden turns; it cut shelf-wise high acrossthe face of a ridge; spurs constantly closed after them; there seemed noway back or through, then, like an opening gate, a bluff detached from thewall ahead, and they entered another breadth of valley. In the wide levelsthat bordered the river, young orchards began to supplant the sage. Looking down from the thoroughfare, the even rows and squares seemedwrought on the tawny background like the designs of a great carpet. Sometimes, paralleling the road, the new High Line canal followed an uppercut; it trestled a ravine or, stopped by a rocky cliff, bored through. Where a finished spillway irrigated a mountainside, all the steep inclinebetween the runnels showed lines on lines of diminutive trees, pluckilytaking root-hold. 

A little after that, near an old mission, they dropped to a lower benchand passed an apple orchard in full bearing. Everywhere boughs laden witha gold or crimson harvest were supported by a network of scaffolding. Itwas marvelous that fruit could so crowd and cling to a slender stem andyet round and color to such perfection. Miss Armitage slowed the horsesdown and looked up the shady avenues. Presently a driveway divided thetract, leading to a dwelling so small it had the appearance of a toyhouse; but on the gatepost above the rural delivery box the name of theowner shone ostentatiously. It was "Henderson Bailey, Hesperides Vale. "

"Do you see?" she asked. "This is that station master's orchard, where theRome Beauty grew. "

But the team was troublesome again. The road made a turn, rounding theorchard, and began the descent to a bridge. On the right a greatwater-wheel, supplied with huge, scoop-shaped buckets, was lifting waterfrom the river to distribute it over a reclaimed section. The bays prancedtoward it suspiciously. "Now, now, Tuck, " she admonished, "be a soldier. "The colt sidled gingerly. "Whoa, Nip, whoa!" and, rearing lightly, theytook the approach with a rush. 

As they quieted and trotted evenly off the bridge, a large and brilliantsignboard set in an area of sage-brush challenged the eye. Miss Armitagefluted a laugh. 

"Buy one of these Choice Lots, "

she read, with charming, slightly mocking exaggeration. 

"Buy to-day. 

"To-morrow will see this Property the Heart of a City. 

"Buy before the Prices Soar. 

"Talk with Henderson Bailey. 

"This surely is Hesperides Vale, " she added. 

The amusement went out of Tisdale's face. "Yes, madam, and your journey'send. Probably the next post-box will announce the name of your friends. "

She did not answer directly. She looked beyond the heads of the team tothe top of the valley, where two brown slopes parted like drawn curtainsand opened a blue vista of canyon closed by a lofty snow-peak. The sun hadmore than fulfilled its morning promise of heat, but a soft breeze beganto pull from that white summit down the watercourse. 

"I did not tell you I had friends in Hesperides Vale, " she said at last. Her eyes continued to search the far blue canyon, but her color heightenedat his quick glance of surprise, and she went on with a kind ofbreathlessness. 

"I--I have a confession to make. I--But hasn't it occurred to you, Mr. Tisdale, that I might be interested in this land you are on your way tosee?"

His glance changed. It settled into his clear, calculating look ofappraisal. Under it her color flamed; she, turned her face farther away. "No, " he answered slowly, "No, that had not occurred to me. "

"I should have told you at the beginning, but I thought, at first, youknew. Afterward--but I am going to explain now, " and she turnedresolutely, smiling a little to brave that look. "Mr. Morganstein hadpromised, when he planned the trip to Portland, that he would run overfrom Ellensburg to look the property up. He believed it might be feasibleto plat it into five-acre tracts to put on the market. Of course we knewnothing of the difficulties of the road; we had heard it was an old stageroute, and we expected to motor through and return the same day. So, whenthe accident happened to the car in Snoqualmie Pass, and the others weretaking the Milwaukee train home, I decided, on the impulse of the moment, to finish this side trip to Wenatchee and return to Seattle by the GreatNorthern. I admit seeing you on the eastbound influenced me. We--Mrs. Feversham--guessed you were on your way to see this land, and when theporter was uncertain of the stage from Ellensburg, but that you wereleaving the trail below Kittitas, I thought you had found a newer, quickerway. So--I followed you. "

Tisdale's brows relaxed. He laughed a little softly, trying to ease herevident distress. "I am glad you did, Miss Armitage. I am mighty glad youdid. But I see, " he went on slowly, his face clouding again, "I see Mrs. Weatherbee had been talking to you about that tract. It's strange I hadn'tthought of that possibility. I'll wager she even tried to sell the landoff a map, in Seattle. I wonder, though, when this Weatherbee trip wasarranged to look the property over, that she didn't come, too. But nodoubt that seemed too eager. "

The blue lights flashed in her eyes; her lip trembled. "Be fair, " shesaid. "You can afford to be--generous. "

"I am going to be generous, Miss Armitage, to you. " The ready humortouched his mouth again, the corners of his eyes. "I am going to take youover the ground with me; show you Weatherbee's project, his drawn plans. But afterwards, if you outbid me--"

"You need not be afraid of that, " she interrupted quickly. "I--you mustknow"--she paused, her lashes drooped--"I--am not very rich, " shefinessed. 

Tisdale laughed outright. "Neither am I. Neither am I. " Then, his glancestudying the road, he said: "I think we take that branch. But wait!" Hedrew his map from his pocket and pored over it a moment. "Yes, we turnthere. After that there is just one track. "

For an instant Miss Armitage seemed to waver. She sent a backward look tothe river, and the glance, returning, swept Tisdale; then she straightenedin her seat and swung the bays into the branch. It cut the valleydiagonally, away from the Wenatchee, past a last orchard, into wild landsthat stretched in level benches under the mountain wall. One tawny, sage-mottled slope began to detach from the rest; it took the shape of areclining brazen beast, partly leopard, partly wolf, and a line of pinetrees that had taken root in a moist strata along the backbone had theeffect of a bristling mane. 

"That is Weatherbee's landmark, " said Tisdale. "He called it Cerberus. Itis all sketched in true as life on his plans. The gap there under thebrute's paw is the entrance to his vale. "

As they approached, the mountain seemed to move; it took the appearance ofan animal, ready to spring. Miss Armitage, watching, shivered. Thedreadful expectation she had shown the previous night when the cry of thecougar came down the wind, rose in her face. It was as though she had comeupon that beast, more terrifying than she had feared, lying in wait forher. Then the moment passed. She raised her head, her hands tightened onthe reins, and she drove resolutely into the shadows of the awful front. "Now, " she said, not quite steadily, "now I know how monstrously alive amountain can seem. "

Tisdale looked at her. "You never could live in Alaska, " he said. "Youfeel too much this personality of inanimate things. That was DavidWeatherbee's trouble. You know how in the end he thought those Alaskapeaks were moving. They got to 'crowding' him. "

The girl turned a little and met his look. Her eyes, wide with dread, entreated him. "Yes, I know, " she said, and her voice was almost awhisper. "I was thinking of him. But please don't say any more. I can't--bear it--here. "

So she was thinking of Weatherbee. Her emotion sprang from her sympathyfor him. A gentleness that was almost tenderness crept over Tisdale'sface. How fine she was, how sensitively made, and how measureless hercapacity for loving, if she could feel like this for a man of whom she hadonly heard. 

Miss Armitage, squaring her shoulders and sitting very erect once more, her lips closed in a straight red line drove firmly on. A stream ranmusically along the road side, --a stream so small it was marvelous it hada voice. As they rounded the mountain, the gap widened into the mouth ofthe vale, which lifted back to an upper bench, over-topped by a loftyplateau. Then she swung the team around and stopped. The way was cut offby a barbed wire fence. 

The enclosure was apparently a corral for a flock of Angora goats. Therewas no gate for the passage of teams; the road ended there, and a roughsign nailed to a hingeless wicket warned the wayfarer to "Keep Out. " On arocky knob near this entrance a gaunt, hard-featured woman sat knitting. She measured the trespassers with a furtive, smouldering glance andclicked her needles with unnecessary force. 

Tisdale's eyes made a swift inventory of the poor shelter, half cabin, partly shed, that evidently housed both the woman and her flock, thensearched the barren field for some sort of hitching post. But the fewbushes along the stream were small, kept low, doubtless, by the browsinggoats, and his glance rested on a fringe of poplars beyond the upperfence. 

"There's no way around, " he said at last, and the amusement broke softlyin his face. "We will have to go through. "

"The wicket will take the team singly, " she answered, "but we must unhitchand leave the buggy here. "

"And first, if you think you can hold the colts that long, I must tacklethis thistle. "

"I can manage, " she said, and the sparkles danced in her eyes, "unless youare vanquished. "

The woman rose and stood glowering while he sprang down and drew thewooden pin to open the wicket. Then, "You keep off my land, " she orderedsharply. "I will, madam, " he answered quietly, "as soon as I am satisfiedit is yours. "

"I've lived on this claim 'most five years, " she screamed. "I'mhomesteading, and when I've used the water seven years, I get the rights. "She sprang backward with a cattish movement and caught up a gun that hadbeen concealed in some bushes. "Now you go, " she said. 

But Tisdale stayed. He stood weighing her with his steady, appraisingeyes, while he drew the township plat from his pocket. 

"This is the quarter section I have come to look up. It starts here, yousee, "--and having unfolded the map, he turned to hold it under herglance--"at the mouth of this gap, and lifts back through the pocket, taking in the slopes to this bench and on up over this ridge to includethese springs. "

The woman, curbing herself to look at the plat, allowed the rifle tosettle in the curve of her arm. "I piped the water down, " she said. "Thisstream was a dry gully. I fenced and put up a house. "

"The tract was commuted and bought outright from the Government over sevenyears ago. " Tisdale's voice quickened; he set his lips dominantly andfolded the map. "I have copies of the field notes with me and the owner'slandscape plans. And I am a surveyor, madam. It won't take me long to findout whether there is a mistake. But, before I go over the ground, I mustget my horses through to a hitching-place. I will have to lower that upperfence, but if you will keep your goats together, I promise to put it backas soon as the team is through. "

"You let that fence alone. " Tisdale had started to cross the field, andshe followed, railing, though the gun still rested in the hollow of herarm. "If one of those goats breaks away, the whole herd'll go wild. Ican't round 'em in without my dog. He's off trailing one of the ewes. Shestrayed yesterday, and he'll chase the mountain through if he has to. It'sno use to whistle; he won't come back without her. You let that fence be. You wouldn't dare to touch it, " she finished impotently, "if I had a man. "

"Haven't you?" Tisdale swung around, and his voice dropped to its softundernote. "That's mighty hard. Who laid all that water-pipe? Who builtyour house?"

"I did, " she answered grimly. "The man who hauled my load of lumberstopped long enough to help set the posts, but I did the rest. "

"You did?" Tisdale shook his head incredulously. "My! My! Made all thenecessary improvements, single-handed, to hold your homestead and at thesame time managed these goats. "

The woman's glance moved to the shack and out over the barren fields, anda shade of uncertainty crept into her passionate eyes. "The improvementsdon't make much of a show yet; I've had to be off so much in themountains, foraging with the herd. But I was able to hire a boy half a daywith the shearing this spring, and from now on they're going to pay. Thereare twenty-eight in the bunch, counting the kids, and I started with oneold billy and two ewes. "

"My! My! what a record!" Tisdale paused to look back at Miss Armitage, whohad turned the bays, allowing them to pace down a length of road and back. 

"But, " he added, walking on, "what led you to choose goats instead ofsheep?"

"I didn't do the choosing"; she moved abreast of Hollis, "it was a foolman. "

"So, " he answered softly, with a glimmer of amusement in his eyes, "thereis a man, after all. "

"There was, " she corrected grimly. "The easiest fellow to be talked overunder the sun; the kind always chasing off after a new scheme. First itwas a mineral claim; then he banked the future on timber, and when he gottired waiting for stumpage to soar, he put up a dinky sawmill to cut hisown trees. He was doing well, for him, getting out ties for a newrailroad--it was down in Oregon--when he saw the chance to trade for aproved-up homestead. But it was the limit when he started out to buy abunch of sheep and came back with that old Angora billy and two ewes. "

"I see. " They were near the fence, and Tisdale swerved a little to reach astout poplar that formed the corner post. He saw that the wire ends metthere and felt in his pocket for his knife. "I see. And then he left theresponsibility to his wife. "

"The wedding hadn't come off, " she said sharply. "It was fixed for theseventeenth of June, and that was only May. And I told him I couldn't riskit--not in the face of those goats. "

"And he?" pressed Hollis gently. This thistle, isolated, denied humanintercourse, was more easily handled than he had hoped. 

"He said it suited him all right. He had been wanting to go to Alaska. Nothing but that wedding had kept him back. "

Tisdale stopped and opened his knife. "And he went?" he asked. 

"Yes. " The woman's face worked a little, and she stood looking at him withhard, tragic eyes. "He sold the homestead for what he could get to raisethe money to take him to Dawson. He was gone in less than twenty-fourhours and before daylight, that night he left, I heard those goats_ma-a-ing_ under my window. He had staked them there in the front yard andtucked a note, with his compliments, in the door. He wrote he didn't knowof anything else he could leave that would make me remember him better. "

Tisdale shook his head. "I wish I had been there. " He slipped the knife inbetween the ends of the wires and the bole, clawing, prying, twisting. "And you kept them?" he added. 

"Yes, I don't know why, unless it was because I knew it was the last thinghe expected. But I hated them worse than snakes. I couldn't stand ithaving them around, and I hired a boy to herd them out on his father'sfarm. Then I went on helping Dad, selling general merchandise and sortingmail. But the post-office was moved that year five miles to the newrailroad station, and they put in a new man. Of course that meant a lineof goods, too, and competition. Trade fell off, then sickness came. Itlasted two years, and when Dad was gone, there wasn't much left of thestore but debt. " She paused a moment, looking up to the serene sky abovethe high plateau. A sudden moisture softened her burning eyes, and herfree hand crept to her throat. "Dad was a mighty fine man, " she said. "Hehad a great business head. It wasn't his fault he didn't leave me wellfixed. "

Tisdale laid the loosened wire down on the ground and started to work onanother. "But there was the man in Alaska, " he said. "Of course you lethim know. "

"No, sir. " Her eyes flashed back to Tisdale's face. "You wouldn't havecaught me writing to Johnny Banks, then. I'm not that kind. The most Icould do was to see what I could make of the goats. I commenced herdingthem myself, but I hadn't the face to do it down there in Oregon, whereeverybody knew me, and I gradually worked north with them until I endedhere. "

Tisdale had dropped his knife. He stooped to pick it up. "That's where youmade your mistake, " he said. 

The woman drew a step nearer, watching his face; tense, breathless. Clearly he had turned her thoughts from the fence, and he slipped theknife in farther and continued to pry and twist the wire loose. "How doyou know it was a mistake?" she asked at last. 

Tisdale laid the second wire down. "Well, wasn't it? To punish yourselflike this, to cheat yourself out of the best years of your life, when youknew how much Banks thought of you. But you seem to have overlooked hisside. Do you think, when he knows how you crucified yourself, it's goingto make him any happier? He carried a great spirit bottled in that small, wiry frame, but he got to seeing himself through your eyes. He was ashamedof his failures--he had always been a little sensitive about his size--andit wasn't the usual enthusiasm that started him to Alaska; he was stunginto going. It was like him to play his poor joke gamily, at the last, andpretend he didn't care. A word from you would have held him--you must haveknown that--and a letter from you afterwards, when you needed him, wouldhave brought him back. Or you might have joined him up there and made ahome for him all these years, but you chose to bury yourself here in thedesert of the Columbia, starving your soul, wasting your best on thesegoats. " He paused with the last loosened wire in his hands and stoodlooking at her with condemning eyes. "What made you?" he added, and hisvoice vibrated softly. "What made you?"

The woman's features worked; tears filled her eyes. 

They must have been the first in many months, for they came with the gushthat follows a probe. "You know him, " she said brokenly. "You've seen himlately, up there in Alaska. "

"I think so, yes. The Johnny Banks I knew in the north told me somethingabout a girl he left down in Oregon. But she was a remarkably pretty girl, with merry black eyes and a nice color in her cheeks. Seems to me she usedto wear a pink gown sometimes, and a pink rose in her black hair, and madea picture that the fellows busy along the new railroad came miles onSundays to see. "

A bleak smile touched the woman's mouth. "Dad always liked to see me wearnice clothes. He said it advertised the store. " Then her glance fell toher coarse, wretched skirt, and the contrast struck poignantly. 

Tisdale moved the wires back, clearing a space for the bays to pass. "There was one young engineer, " he went on, as though she had not spoken;"a big, handsome fellow, who came oftener than the rest. Banks thought itwas natural she should favor him. The little man believes yet that when hewas out of the way she married that engineer. "

The woman was beyond speech. Tisdale had penetrated the last barrier ofher fortitude. The bitterness, pent so long, fostered in solitude, filledthe vent and surged through. Her shoulders shook, she stumbled a few stepsto the poplar and, throwing up her arm against the bole, buried her face, sobbing, in her sleeve. 

Tisdale looked back across the field. Miss Armitage was holding the teamin readiness at the wicket. "I am going now, " he said. "You will have towatch your goats until I get the horses through. But if you will writethat letter, madam, while I'm at work, I'll be glad to mail it for you. "

The woman looked up. A sudden hope transfigured her face. "I wish I daredto. But he wouldn't know me now; I've changed so. Besides, I don't knowhis address. "

"That's so. " Tisdale met her glance thoughtfully. "But leave it to me. Ithink I can get into touch with him when I am back in Seattle. "

Miss Armitage watched him as he came swiftly across the field. "Oh, " shecried, when he reached the waiting team, "how did you accomplish it? Areyou a magician?"

Hollis shook his head. "I only tried to play a little on herheart-strings, to gain time, and struck an unexpected chord. But it's allright. It's going to do her good. "

CHAPTER XI

THE LOOPHOLE

The afternoon sun shone hot in that pocket; the arid slopes reflected theglare; heat waves lifted; the snow-peak was shut out, and when a puff ofwind found the gap it was a breath from the desert. Miss Armitage, who hadtrailed pluckily after Tisdale through the sage-brush and up the steepface of the bench, rested on the level, while he hurried on to find theeasiest route to the high plateau and the spring. He had left her seatedon a flat rock in the shade of a sentinel pine tree, looking over the valeto Cerberus and the distant bit of the Wenatchee showing beyond the mouth, but as he came back along the ridge, he saw she had turned her shoulder onthe crouching mountain. At his far "Hello!" she waved her hand to him androse to start across the bench to meet him. He was descending a brokenstairway below two granite pillars that topped a semi-circular bluff and, springing from a knob to avoid a dry runnel, he shaped his way diagonallyto abridge the distance. He moved with incredible swiftness, swinging byhis hands to drop from a ledge, sliding where he must, and the ease andexpediency with which he accomplished it all brought the admirationsparkling to her eyes. 

"I am sorry, " he said, as he drew near, "but there isn't any easy way. It's too bad to have traveled so far and miss the spring, for the wholeproject hinges on it; but the climb is impossible for you in this heat. "

"Then you found the spring?" she asked quickly. "It was all the planspromised?"

"Yes. " He began to walk on across the bench, suiting his steps to hers. "And Weatherbee had put in a small dam there to create his firstreservoir. I found his old camp, too; a foundation of logs, open now tothe sky, with a few tatters left of the canvas that had roofed it over. "There was a silent moment, then he added, with the emotion still playinggently in his voice: "I wish I could show you that place; the pool iscrystal clear and cool, rimmed in pines, like a basin of opals. "

When they reached the flat rock in the shade of the pine tree, he took thereclamation plan from his inner pocket and seated himself beside her. "This is Weatherbee's drawing, " he said. "See how carefully he worked inthe detail. This is the spring and that upper reservoir, and this lowerone is a natural dry basin up there under that bluff, a little to the leftof those granite chimneys; you can see its rocky rim. All it needs is thisshort flume sketched in here to bring the water down, and a sluice-gate tofeed the main canal that follows this bench we are on. Spillways wouldirrigate a peach orchard along this slope below us and seep out throughthis level around us to supply home gardens and lawn. Just imagine it!" Hepaused, while her glance followed his brief comparisons, moving from theplan to the surface of the bench and down over the slope to the vale. "Imagine this tract at the end of four years; a billowing sea of green;with peach trees in bearing on this mountainside; apples, the finestJonathans, Rome Beauties if you will, beginning to make a showing downthere. Water running, seeping everywhere; strawberries carpeting theground between the boles; alfalfa, cool and moist, filling in; and evenCerberus off there losing his sinister shape in vineyards. "

"Then it is feasible, " she exclaimed softly, and the sparkles brokesubdued in her eyes. "And the price, Mr. Tisdale; what would you considera fair price for the property as it stands now, unimproved?" Tisdale rose. He paused to fold the drawing and put it away, while his glance movedslowly down over the vale to the goat-keeper's cabin and her browsingflock. "You must see, Miss Armitage, " he said then, "that idea of Mr. Morganstein's to plat this land into five-acre tracts for the marketcouldn't materialize. It is out of range of the Wenatchee valley projects;it is inaccessible to the railroad for the small farmer. Only the man withcapital to work it on a large scale could make it pay. And the property isMrs. Weatherbee's last asset; she is in urgent need of ready money. Youshould be able to make easy terms with her, but I warn you, if it comes tobidding, I am prepared to offer seven thousand dollars. "

He turned, frowning a little, to look down at her and, catching thosecovert sparkles of her side-glance, smiled. 

"You may have it, " she said. 

"Wait. Think it over, " he answered. "I am going down to the gap now tofind the surveyor's monument and trace the section line back to the top ofthe plateau. Rest here, where it's cooler, and I will come down this wayfor you when I am through. Think the project over and take my word for thespring; it's well worth the investment. "

Doubtless Miss Armitage followed his suggestion, for she sat thoughtfully, almost absently, watching him down the slope. At the foot of the vale, thegoat-woman joined him, and it was clear he again used his magic art, forpresently he had her chaining for him and holding an improvised flag, while he estimated the section line. But finally, when they left the bedof the pocket and began to cross-cut up the opposite mountainside, thegirl rose and looked in the direction of the spring. It was cooler; abreeze was drawing down from the upper ridge; a few thin clouds like torngauze veiled the sky overhead; the blue lost intensity. She began to walkacross the bench towards the granite chimneys. In a little while she foundthe dry reservoir, walled, where the plateau lifted, in the semi-circularbluff; then she stopped at the foot of an arid gully that rose betweenthis basin and a small shoulder which supported the first needle. This wasthe stairway she had seen Tisdale descend, and presently she commenced toclimb it slowly, grasping bunches of the tenacious sage or jutting pointsof rock to ease her weight. 

The stairs ended in a sharp incline covered with debris from thedecomposing pillars; splinters of granite shifted under her tread; shefelt the edges cutting through her shoes. Fragments began to rattle down;one larger rock crashed over the bluff into the dry basin. Then, at last, she was on the level, fighting for breath. She turned, trembling, andbraced herself against the broken chimney to look back. She shrank closerto the needle and shook her head. It was as though she said: "I nevercould go back alone. "

But when her glance moved to the opposite mountainside, Tisdale was nolonger in sight. And that shoulder was very narrow; it presented a sheerfront to the vale, like the base of a monument, so that between thechimney and the drop to the gully there was little room in which to stand. She began to choose a course, picking her foothold cautiously, zigzaggingas she had seen Hollis do on the slope above. Midway another knob jutted, supporting a second pillar and a single pine tree, but as she came underthe chimney she was forced to hurry. Loose chippings of granite started atevery step. They formed little torrents, undermining, rushing, threateningto sweep her down; and she reached the ledge in a panic. Then she felt thestable security of the pine against her body and for a moment let herselfgo, sinking to the foot of the tree and covering her eyes with her hands. 

Up there a stiff wind was blowing, and presently she saw the snow-peak shehad missed in the vale. The ridge lifted less abruptly from this secondspur, and in a little while she rose and pushed on, lagging sometimes, stumbling, to the level of the plateau. The Wenatchee range, of which itwas a part, stretched bleak and forbidding, enclosing all those minor aridgulfs down to the final, long, scarred headland set against the Columbiadesert. She was like a woman stranded, the last survivor, on aninhospitable coast. Turning to look across the valley of the Wenatchee, she saw the blue and glaciered crests of the Chelan mountains, and behindher, over the neck of a loftier height, loomed other white domes. Andthere yesterday's thunder-caps, bigger and blacker, with fringed edges, drove along the sky line. One purplish mass was streaming like a sieve. For an interval the sun was obscured, and her glance came back to the valebelow where Cerberus reclined, watchful, his tawny head lifted slightlybetween two advanced paws. Suddenly the lower clouds grew brilliant, andshafts of light breaking through changed the mountain before her to abeast of brass. 

She turned and began to pick her way through grease brush and insistentsage towards a grove of pines. In a little while she saw water shiningthrough the trees. She hesitated--it was as though she had come to thethreshold of a sanctuary--then went on under the boughs to the opal pool. 

She remained in the grove a long time. When she reappeared, the deserteastward was curtained in a gray film. Torn breadths of it, driven by somelocal current of air, formed tented clouds along the promontory. It was asthough yesterday's army was marshalled against other hosts that held theChelan heights. A twilight indistinctness settled over the valley between. Rain, a downpour, was near. She hurried on to the brow of the plateau, butshe dared not attempt to go down around those crumbling chimneys alone. And Tisdale had said he would come back this side of the vale. Any momenthe might appear. She turned to go back to the shelter of the pines. It wasthen a first electrical flash, like a drawn sword, challenged the oppositeridge. Instantly a searchlight from the encamped legions played over thelower plain. She turned again, wavering, and began to run on over thefirst dip of the slope and along to the first pillar. There she stopped, leaning on the rock, trembling, yet trying to force down her fear. It wasuseless; she could not venture over that stream of shifting granite. Shestarted back, then stopped, wavering again. After a moment she lifted hervoice in a clear, long call: "Mr. Tis--da--le!"

"I'm coming!" The answer rang surprisingly close, from the gully above thebasin. Soon she discovered him and, looking up, he saw her standingclear-cut against a cavernous, dun-colored cloud, which, gathering alllesser drift into its gulf, drove low towards the plateau. She turned herface, watching it, and it seemed to belch wind like a bellows, for herskirt stiffened, and the loosened chiffon veil, lifting from her shoulders, streamed like the drapery of some aërial figure, poised there briefly onits flight through space. Then began cannonading. Army replied to army. The advancing film from the desert, grown black, became an illuminatedscroll; thin ribbons of gold were traced on it, bowknots of tinsel. Thepattern changed continually. The legions repeated their fire; javelins, shafts, flew. Lightning passed in vertical bolts, in sheets from ridge toridge. Then the cloud approaching the plateau spoke, and the curtainmoving from the Columbia became a wall of doom, in which great cracksyawned, letting the light of eternity through. 

The girl was flying down the slope to meet Tisdale. She came with benthead, hands to her ears, skimming the pitfalls. Under her light tread theloose debris hardly stirred. Then, as he rounded the pillar, her paceslackened. "I am afraid, " she said and stumbled. "I am afraid. " And hertrembling body sank against his arm; she buried her face in his coat. "Take me away from this terrible place. "

Her impact had started the splintered granite moving, but Hollis swunginstantly and set his back to the crumbling chimney, clinging there, staying her with his arm, until the slide stopped. 

"See here, " he said, and his voice vibrated its soft undernote, "youmustn't lose your grip. It's all right. Old Mother Nature is just havingone of her scolding fits. She has to show the woman in her once in awhile. But it's going to end, any minute, in tears. "

She lifted her face, and he paused, knitting his brows, yet smiling alittle, mastering the terror in her eyes with his quiet, compelling gaze. "Come, Miss Armitage, " he said, "we must hurry. You will be wet through. "

He took her hand and began to lead her quickly down the rugged staircase. "Be careful, " he admonished, "this granite is treacherous. " But she gavelittle heed to her steps; she looked back continually over her shoulder, watching the dun cloud. Presently she tripped. Hollis turned to steadyher, and, himself looking up beyond her, caught her in his arms and ran, springing, out of the gully. 

The ledge he reached formed the rim of the natural reservoir and, measuring the distance with a swift glance, he let himself over, easingthe drop with one hand on the rocky brink, while the other arm supportedher. Midway, on a jutting knob, he gathered momentary foothold, then swungto the bottom of the basin. 

It was all done surely but with incredible haste, while the cavernouscloud drew directly overhead. The next instant, from its brazen depths, itspoke again. The whole mountain seemed to heave. Then something mightycrashed down. The basin suddenly darkened as though a trap door hadclosed, and Tisdale, still shielding his companion, stood looking up, listening, while the reverberations rang from slope to slope and filledthe vale. Then silence came. 

Miss Armitage drew erect, though her hand rested unconsciously onTisdale's sleeve. The thing that roofed the basin was black, impenetrablythick; in it she saw no possible loophole of escape. "This time, " shefaltered, "Fate is against you. "

Her breast rose and fell in deep, hurried breaths; in the twilight of thebasin her eyes, meeting his, shone like twin stars. Tisdale's blood beganto race; it rose full tide in his veins, "Fate is with me, " he answered, and bent and kissed her mouth. 

She shrank back, trembling, against the rocky wall; she glanced about herwith the swift, futile manner of a creature helplessly trapped, then shepressed her fingers an instant to her eyes and straightened. "You neverwill forgive yourself, " she said; not in anger, not in judgment, but in atone so low, so sad, it seemed to express not only regret but finality. 

Tisdale was silent. After a moment he turned to the lower side of thebasin, which afforded better foothold than the wall he had descended, andbegan to work up from niche to ledge, grasping a chance bunch of sage, astunted bush of chaparral that grew in a cranny, to steady himself. Andthe girl stood aloof, watching him. Finally he reached a shelf thatbrought him, in touch with the obstruction overhead and stopped to takeout his pocketknife, with which he commenced to create a loophole. Littletwigs rained down; a larger branch fell, letting the daylight through. Theroof was a mesh of pine boughs. 

At last he closed his knife and, taking firm hold on a fixed limb, leanedto reach his other palm down to her. "Come, " he said, "set your foot inthat first niche--no, the left one. Now, give me your hand. "

She obeyed as she must, and Hollis pushed backward through the aperture hehad made, getting the bough under one armpit. "Now, step to that jaggedlittle spur; it's solid. The right one, too; there's room. " She gained theupper ledge and waited, hugging the wall pluckily while he worked out onthe rim of the basin and, stretching full length, with the stem of thetree under his waist, reached his arms down to her. "You will have tospring a little, " he directed, "and grip my shoulders hard. Now, come!"

At last she was safe beside him. In another moment he was up and helpedher to her feet. They stood looking towards the mountain top. The duncloud stalking now with trailing skirts in the direction of thesnow-peaks, hurled back a parting threat. "It was the pine tree, " sheexclaimed. "It was struck. And, see! It has carried down most of thatchimney. Our staircase is completely wrecked. "

Tisdale was silent. Her glance came back to him. A sudden emotion stirredher face. Then all the conservatism dropped from her like a discardedcloak, and he felt her intrepid spirit respond to his own. Now sheunderstood that moment in the basin; she knew it had been supreme; she wasgreat enough to see there was nothing to forgive. "You were right, " shesaid, and her voice broke in those steadying pauses that carried moreexpression than any words. "Fate was with us again. But I owe--my life--toyou. "

"Sometime, " he answered slowly, smiling a little, "not now, not here, I amgoing to hold you to the debt. And when I do, you are going to pay me--infull. "

The beautiful color, that was like the pink of coral, flamed and went inher face. "We must hurry back to the team, " she said and turned to finishthe descent to the bench. "Horses are always so nervous in an electricalstorm. " Then suddenly, as Tisdale pushed by to help her in a difficultplace, she stopped. "How strange!" she exclaimed. "That terrible curtainhas lifted from the desert. It threatened a deluge any minute, and now itis moving off without a drop of rain. "

"That's so, " he replied. "A cross current of wind has turned it up theColumbia. But the rain is there; it is streaming along those Chelansummits in a downpour. "

"And look!" she cried, after a moment. "A double rainbow! See how it spansthe Wenatchee! It's a promise. " And the turquoise lights shone once morein her eyes. "Here in this desert, at last, I may come to my 'pot ofgold. '"

"You mean, " responded Tisdale, "now you have seen the spring, Weatherbee'sproject seems possible to you. Well, I have reconsidered, too. I shall notoutbid you. That would favor Mrs. Weatherbee too much. And my interestsare going to keep me in Alaska indefinitely. I should be obliged to leavethe plans in the hands of a manager, and I had rather trust them to you. "

Miss Armitage did not answer directly. She was watching the arch, paintedhigher now, less brilliantly, on the lifting film. The light had gone outof her face. All the bench was in shadow; in the valley below a twilightindistinctness had fallen. Then suddenly once more Cerberus stood forthlike a beast of brass. She shivered. 

"It isn't possible, " she said. "It isn't possible. Even if I dared--forDavid's sake--to assume the responsibility, I haven't the money to carrythe project through. "

Tisdale stopped and swung around. They had reached the flat rock under thesentinel pine tree. "Did you know David Weatherbee?" he asked. 

She was silent. He put his hands in his pockets and stood regarding herwith his upward look from under slightly frowning brows. "So you knewDavid, " he went on. "In California, I presume, before he went to Alaska. But why didn't you tell me so?"

She waited another moment. In the great stillness Hollis heard her laboredbreathing. She put out her hand, steadying herself on the bole of thepine, then: "I've wanted to tell you, " she began. "I've tried to--but--itwas impossible to make you understand. I--I hadn't the courage. "

Her voice fluted and broke. The last word was almost a whisper. She stoodbefore Tisdale with veiled eyes, breath still coming hard and quick, thelovely color deepening and paling in her face, like a woman awaitingjudgment. And it came over him in a flash, with the strength ofconviction, that this beautiful, inscrutable girl wished him to know shehad loved Weatherbee. Incredible as it seemed, she had been set aside forthe Spanish woman. And she had learned about David's project; he himselfperhaps had told her years ago in California. And though his wife hadtalked with Morganstein about platting the land into five-acre tracts todispose of quickly, this woman had desired to see the property with a viewto carrying out his plans. That was why she had continued the journey fromSnoqualmie Pass alone. That was why she had braved the mountain drive withhim. She had loved Weatherbee. This truth, sinking slowly, stirred hisinner consciousness and, wrenched in a rising commotion, something fardown in the depths of him lost hold. He had presumed to think, in theinfinite scheme of things, this one woman had been reserved for him. Hehad dared to let her know he believed so; he had taken advantage of herhelpless situation, on an acquaintance of two days. His own color began toburn through the tan. "You were right, " he said at last, very gently, "Inever can forgive myself. I can't understand it!" he broke out then, "ifyou had been his wife, David Weatherbee would have been safe with us here, to-day. "

Miss Armitage started. She gave him a quick, searching glance, then sankdown upon the rock. She seemed suddenly exhausted, like a woman who, hard-pressed in the midst of peril, finds unexpectedly a friendlythreshold. 

Tisdale looked off to the brazen slopes of Cerberus. It was the first timehe had censured Weatherbee for anything, and suddenly, while he brooded, protesting over that one paramount mistake, he felt himself unaccountablyresponsible. He was seized with a compelling desire to, in some way, makeit up to her. "Come, " he said, "you mustn't lose heart; to-morrow, whenyou are rested, it will look easier. And the question of ready money neednot trouble you. Mrs. Weatherbee has reached the point where she has gotto hedge on the future. Make her an offer of five thousand dollars inyearly payments, say, of fifteen hundred. She'll take it. Then, if youagree, I will arrange a loan with a Seattle bank. I should allow enoughmargin to cover the first reclamation expenses. Your fillers of alfalfaand strawberries would bring swift returns, and before your orchards cameinto bearing, your vineyards would pay the purchase price on the wholetract. "

He turned to her, smiling, and surprised a despair in her face that wentto his heart. 

"I thought, I hoped you meant to buy this land, " she said. 

"So I did, so I do, unless you decide to. And if you undertake thisproject, I pledge myself to see you through. " His voice caught a pleadingundernote. "It rests with you. Above every one it rests with you to eventhings for Weatherbee. Isn't that clear to you? Look ahead five years; seethis vale green and shady with orchards; the trees laden with harvest;imagine his wife standing here on this bench, surveying it all. See herwaking to the knowledge she has let a fortune slip through her hands; seeher, the purchase price spent, facing the fact that another woman builther faith on David Weatherbee; had the courage to carry out his scheme andfound it a bonanza. That is what is going to make her punishment strikehome. "

Miss Armitage rose. She stood a moment watching his face, then, "How youhate her!" she said. 

"Hate?" Tisdale's laugh rang short and hard. "Well, I grant it; hate isthe word. I hate her so much I've known better than go where she was; I'veavoided her as an electrician avoids charged wire. Still, if I had foundmyself in Weatherbee's place; if I had made his mistake and married her, she should have felt my streak of iron. I might have stayed in Alaska ashe did, but she would have stayed too and made a home for me, helped tofight things through. " He paused and, meeting the appeal in her eyes, hisface softened. "I've distressed you again, " he added. "I'm sorry; but itisn't safe for me to speak of that woman; the thought of her starts mytemperature rising in bounds. I want you to help me forget her. Yet, downin the depths of your heart you know you blame her. "

"Yes, I blame her. " Miss Armitage began to walk on towards the edge of thebench. "I blame her, but not as you do. I know she tried to do right; shewould have gone to Alaska--if David had wished it--at the start. And she'sbeen courageous, too. She's smiled--laughed in the face of defeat. Herclosest friends never knew. "

"You defend her. I wonder at that. " Tisdale passed her and turned to offerhis help down the first abrupt pitch. "How you, who are the one to censureher the most, can speak for her always, as you do. But there you are likeWeatherbee. It was his way to take the losing side; champion the absent. "

"And there is where your resemblance stops, " she answered quickly. "Helacked your streak of iron. Of course you know about your strange likenessto him, Mr. Tisdale. It is so very marked; almost a dual personality. Itisn't height and breadth of shoulder alone; it's in the carriage, the turnof the head; and it creeps into your eyes sometimes; it gets into yourvoice. The first time I saw you, it was startling. "

Tisdale moved on, picking up the trail they had made in ascending; thehumor began to play reminiscently at the corners of his mouth. "Yes, Iknow about that resemblance. When we were on the Tanana, it was 'Tisdale'sTwin' and 'Dave's Double. ' A man has to take a name that fits up there, and we seemed to grow more alike every day. But that often happens whentwo friends who are accustomed to think in the same channels are broughtinto continual touch, and the first year we spent in the north together wewere alone for weeks at a stretch, with no other human intercourse, not aprospector's camp within a hundred miles. The most incompatible partners, under those circumstances, will pick up subconsciously tricks of speechand gesture. Still, looking back, I see it was I who changed. I had tolive up to Weatherbee; justify his faith in me. "

Miss Armitage shook her head slowly. "That is hard to believe. Whoevertried to mould you would feel through the surface that streak of iron. "They had come to another precipitous place, and Tisdale turned again togive her the support of his hand. The position brought his face on a levelwith hers, and involuntarily she stopped. "But whatever you may say, Mr. Tisdale, " she went on, and as her palm rested in his the words gatheredthe weight of a pact, "whatever may--happen--I shall never forget yourgreatness to-day. " She sprang down beside him, and drew away her hand andlooked back to the summit they had left. "Still, tell me this, " she saidwith a swift breathlessness. "If it had been David Weatherbee's wife upthere with you when the thunderbolt struck, would it have made adifference? I mean, would you have left her to escape--or not--as shecould?"

Tisdale waited a thoughtful moment. The ripple of amusement was gone; theiron, so near the surface, cropped through. "I can't answer that, " hesaid. "I do not know. A man is not always able to control a first impulse, and before that pine tree fell there wasn't time to hesitate. "

At this she was silent. All her buoyancy, the charming camaraderie thatstopped just short of intimacy, had dropped from her. It was as though theatmosphere of that pocket rose and clung to her, enveloped her like animbus, as she went down. In the pent heat her face seemed cold. She hadthe appearance of being older. The fine vertical line at the corner of hermouth, which Tisdale had not noticed before, brought a tightness to histhroat when he ventured to look at her. How could Weatherbee have been soblind? How could he have missed the finer, spiritual loveliness of thiswoman? Weatherbee, who himself had been so sensitive; whose intuition wasalmost feminine. 

They had reached the final step from the bench to the floor of the valewhen Hollis spoke again. "If you do decide to buy this land and open theproject, I could recommend a man who would make a trusty manager. "

"Oh, you don't understand, " she replied in desperation "You don'tunderstand. I should have to stay, to live in this terrible place forweeks, months at a time. I couldn't endure it. That dreadful mountainthere at the gap would forever be watching me, holding me in. "

Tisdale looked at her, knitting his brows, "I told you it was dangerous toallow yourself to feel the personality of inanimate things too much. "

"I know. I know. And this terrible beast"--she paused, trying to steadyher voice; her whole body trembled--"would remind me constantly of thoseawful Alaska peaks--the ones that crowded--threatened him. "

Tisdale's face cleared. So that was the trouble. Now he understood. "Thenit's all right"--the minor notes in his voice, vibrating softly, had thequality of a caress--"don't worry any more. I am going to buy this land ofDavid's. Trust me to see the project through. "

CHAPTER XII

"WHOM THE GODS WOULD DESTROY"

Hope is an insistent thing. It may be strangled, lie cold and buried deepin the heart of a man, yet suddenly, without premonition, he may feel itrise and stretch small hands, groping towards a ray of light. So in thatreminiscent hour while the train labored up through the Cascades to thegreat tunnel, Tisdale told himself this woman--the one woman for whom hemust have been waiting all these years, at whose coming old and cherishedmemories had faded to shadows--was very near to loving him. Already sheknew that those mysterious forces she called Fate had impelled them out oftheir separate orbits through unusual ways, to meet. Sometime--he wouldnot press her, he could be patient--but sometime she would surely pay himthat debt. 

He dwelt with new interest on his resemblance to Weatherbee, and he toldhimself it was her constancy to David that had kept her safe. Then it cameover him that if Weatherbee had married her instead of the Spanish woman, that must have been an insurmountable barrier between them to-day. As longas they lived, she must have remained sacred on her pedestal, out ofreach. But how nobly partisan she was; how ready to cross swords forWeatherbee's wife. That was the incredible test; her capacity for lovingwas great. 

The porter was turning on the lights. Tisdale moved a little and lookedacross the aisle. For that one moment he was glad Weatherbee had made hismistake. She was so incomparable, so adorable. Any other woman must havelost attractiveness, shown at least the wear and tear of that mountainjourney, but her weariness appealed to him as her buoyancy had not. Shehad taken off her hat to rest her head on the high, cushioned back of theseat, and the drooping curves of her short upper lip, the blue shadowsunder those outward curling black lashes, roused a new emotion, thepaternal, in the depths of his great heart. He wished to smooth herruffled hair; it was so soft, so vital; under the electric light it seemedto flash little answering blue sparks. Then his glance fell to her relaxedpalms, open in her lap, and he felt a quick solicitude over a scratch thebarbed fence must have made on one small, determined thumb. 

They had had trouble with the horses in the vale. Nip, who had broken awayduring the storm, had been rounded in by the goat-woman and her returningcollie. The travelers found her trying to extricate his halter which hadcaught, holding him dangerously close, in the wire fencing. It had takencaution and long patience to free him, and more to hitch the excited team. The delay had caused them to miss the westbound evening train; they wereforced to drive back and spend the night at Wenatchee. And the morningOriental Limited was crowded with delegates from some mystic order on anannual pilgrimage. There was no room in the observation car; Tisdale wasable to secure only single seats on opposite sides of the sleeper. 

The train rumbled through the great tunnel and came to a brief stopoutside the west portal. It was snowing. Some railroad laborers, repairingthe track, worked in overcoats and sweaters, hat brims drawn down, collarsturned up against the bitter wind. The porter opened the transoms, and apiercing draught pulled through the smoky, heat-laden car. Miss Armitagesat erect and inhaled a full breath. She looked across at Tisdale, and thesparkles broke softly in her eyes. "It's Wellington!" she exclaimed. "In amoment we shall be racing down to Scenic Hot Springs and on along theSkykomish--home. " Then she stopped the porter. "Bring me a telegraphblank, please. I want to send a message from the Springs. "

The limited, under way again, dropped below the cloud. Great peaks andshoulders lifted everywhere; they began to make the loop around anincredibly deep and fissure-like gorge. It was a wonderful feat ofrailroad engineering; people on the other side of the car got to theirfeet and came over to see. The girl, with the yellow blank in her hand, drew close to Tisdale's elbow. "Oh, no, " she demurred, when he rose tooffer his seat, "I only want standing room just a moment. There's going tobe a delightful view of Scenic. "

The passenger beside Hollis picked up his bag. "Take my place, " he said. "I am getting off at the Springs. "

Then presently, when she had moved into the vacated seat next the window, the peaks stood apart, and far, far below the untouched forest at thesummer resort stood out darkly, with the gay eaves and gables of the hoteletched on it like a toy Swiss chalet on a green plateau. 

"Oh, " she cried softly, "it never seemed as charming before; but, ofcourse, it is coming, as we have, straight from the hot desert. There'sthe coolest, fragrant wood road down there, Mr. Tisdale, from the hotel toSurprise Falls. It follows the stream past deep green pools and cascadesbreaking among the rocks. Listen. We should hear the river now. "

Tisdale smiled. There was nothing to be heard but the echo of the runningtrucks and the scream of the whistle repeated from cliff and spur. Theywere switchbacking down the fire-scarred front of a mountain. He bent alittle to look beyond her. It was as though they were coasting down atilted shelf in an oblique wall, and over the blackened skeletons of firshe followed the course of the river out through crowding blue buttes. Returning, his glance traced the track, cross-cutting up from the gorge. 

"I know Surprise Falls, " he said; "and the old Skykomish from start tofinish. There's a point below the Springs where the current boils throughgreat flumes of granite into a rocky basin. Long before the hotel wasthought of, I fished that pool. "

"I know! I know!" she responded, glowing. "We--Miss Morganstein and herbrother and I--found it this summer. We had to work down-stream acrossthose fissures to reach it, but it was worth the trouble. There never wasanother such pool. It was like a mighty bowl full of dissolving emeralds;and the trout loved it. We caught twenty, and we built a fire on the rocksand cooked them. It was delightfully cool and shady. It was one of thosegolden days one never forgets; I was sorry when it was gone. " She paused, the high wave of her excitement passed. "I never could live in thattreeless country, " she went on. "Water, running as God made it, plenty ofit, is a necessity to me. But please take your seat, Mr. Tisdale. " Shesettled back in her place and began to date her telegram. "I am justsending the briefest message to let Mrs. Feversham know where I am. "

"The porter is coming back for it now, " he answered "And thank you, but Iam going in the smoking-car. "

As he approached the vestibule, he caught her reflection in the mirror atthe end of the sleeper. She was looking after him, and she leaned forwarda little with parted lips, as though she had started to call him back, buther eyes clouded in uncertainty; then suddenly, the sparkle rose. Itsuffused her whole face. She had met his glance in the glass. And theporter was waiting. She settled herself once more and devoted herself tothe telegram. 

The lines in Tisdale's face deepened mellowly. He believed that, now theywere so near their journey's end, she wanted to be sure of an opportunityto thank him some more. "I am coming back, " he said inwardly, addressingthe woman in the mirror, "but I must have a smoke to keep my pulsenormal. "

But he did not return to the sleeper, for the reason that at Scenic HotSprings the Seattle papers were brought aboard. The copy of the _Press_ hebought contained the account of the accident in Snoqualmie Pass. Theillustrations were unusually clear, and Daniels' cuts were supplemented byanother labelled: "The Morganstein party leaving Vivian Court, " which alsodesignated the group. 

(Mrs. Feversham, wife of the special delegate from Alaska, in the tonneau. 

Her sister, Miss Morganstein, on her right. 

Mrs. Weatherbee seated in front. 

Frederic Morganstein driving the car. )

And under the central picture Hollis read: "Mrs. Weatherbee (MissArmitage?), as she drove the machine into the embankment. "

The paper rattled a little in his hands. His face flamed, then settledgray and very still. Except that his eyes moved, flashing from thephotographs to the headlines, he might have been a man hewn of granite. "One more reason why the Snoqualmie highway should be improved, " he read. "Narrow escape of the Morganstein party. Mrs. Weatherbee's presence ofmind. " And, half-way down the page, "Mrs. Weatherbee modestly assumes anincognito when interviewed by a representative of the _Press_. "

But Tisdale did not look at the story. He crushed the newspaper into thecorner of his seat and turned his face to the window. His cigar had goneout. He laid it mechanically on the sill. So, this was the woman who hadwrecked David Weatherbee; who had cast her spell over level-headed Foster;and already, in the less than three days he had known her, had made acomplete idiot of him. Suppose Foster should hear about that drive throughthe mountains that had cost him over seven hundred dollars; suppose Fostershould know about that episode in the basin on Weatherbee's own ground. Agreat revulsion came over him. 

Presently he began to take up detail after detail of that journey. Now hesaw the real impulse that had led her to board the eastbound train inSnoqualmie Pass. She had recognized him, conjectured he was on his way tofind that tract of Weatherbee's; and she had determined to go over theland with him, cajole him into putting the highest estimate possible onthe property. Even now, there in the sleeper, she was congratulatingherself no doubt on the success of her scheme. 

At the thought of the ease with which he had allowed himself to beensnared, his muscles tightened. It was as though the iron in the man tookshape, shook off the veneer, encased him like a coat of mail. Hitherto, inthose remote Alaska solitudes, this would have meant the calling toaccount of some transgressor in his camp. He began to sift for the primeelement in this woman's wonderful personality. It was not physical beautyalone; neither was it that mysterious magnetism, almost electrical, yetdelicately responsive as a stringed instrument. One of these might havekept that tremendous hold on Weatherbee near, but on Weatherbee absentthrough those long, breaking years, hardly. It was something deeper;something elusive yet insistent that had made it easier for him to braveout his defeat alone in the Alaska wilderness than come back to face. Clearly she was not just the handsome animal he had believed her to be. Had she not called herself proud? Had he not seen her courage? She had aspirit to break. A soul!

CHAPTER XIII

"A LITTLE STREAK OF LUCK"

It was not the first time Jimmie Daniels had entertained the SocietyEditor at the Rathskeller, and that Monday, though he had invited her tolunch with him in the Venetian room, she asked him, as was her habit, to"order for both. "

"Isn't there something special you'd like?" he asked generously;"something you haven't had for a long time?"

"No. You are so much of an epicure--for a literary person--I know it'ssure to be something nice. Besides, " and the shadow of a smile driftedacross her face, "it saves me guessing the state of your finances. "

A critic would have called Geraldine Atkins too slender for her height, and her face, notwithstanding its girlish freshness, hardly pretty. Thechin, in spite of its dimple, was too strong; the lips, scarlet as a hollyberry, lacked fullness and had a trick of closing firmly over her whiteteeth. Even her gray-blue eyes, which should have been a dreamer's, hadacquired a direct intensity of expression as though they were foreverseeking the inner, real you. Still, from the rolling brim of her soft felthat to the hem of her brown tailor-made, that cleared the ankles of trimbrown shoes, she was undeniably chic and in the eyes of Jimmie Daniels"mighty nice. "

He was longer than usual filling out the card, and the waiter hesitatedthoughtfully when he had read it, then be glanced from the young man tohis companion with a comprehensive smile and hurried away. There waschilled grapefruit in goblets with cracked ice, followed by bouillon, oysters, and a delectable young duck with toast. But it was only when theman brought a small green bottle and held it for Jimmie to approve thelabel that his guest began to arch her brows. 

Daniels smiled his ingenuous smile. "It's just to celebrate a littlestreak of luck, " he said. "And I owe it to you. If you hadn't been atVivian Court to write up the decorations for that bridge-luncheon andhappened to make that snap-shot of the Morganstein party, my leading ladywould have gone to the paper as Miss Armitage straight, and I guess thatwould have queered me with the chief. But that headline you introducedabout Mrs. Weatherbee's incognito struck him right. 'Well, Jimmie, ' hesaid, 'you've saved your scalp this time. '"

The Society Editor smiled. "You were a gullible kiddie, " she replied. "Butit's a mystery to me how you could have lived in Seattle three yearswithout knowing the prettiest woman on the boulevard by sight. "

Jimmie shook his head. "I haven't the shadow of an excuse, unless it wasbecause another girl was running such a close second she always cut off myview. "

"Think, " said Miss Atkins quickly, disregarding the excuse, "if that name, Miss Armitage, had been tagged to a picture that half the town would haverecognized. Mrs. Weatherbee is the most popular lady, socially, inSeattle. When there's a reception for a new Council, she's always in thereceiving line; she pours tea at the tennis tournament, and it was she wholed the cotillion at the Charity ball. You would find her name in all theimportant affairs, if you read the society column. "

Daniels nodded meekly. "It was a hairbreadth escape, and I'm mightygrateful. "

There was a little silence then, but after the waiter had filled thelong-stemmed glasses and hurried away, she said slowly, her gray-blue eyessifting Jimmie through and through: "It looks like you've been playingcards for money, but I never should have suspected it--of you. "

Daniels shook his head gravely. "No get-rich-quick games for me. My luckdoesn't come that way. But it cost me nearly two thousand dollars to findit out. I've always meant to tell you about that, sometime. That twothousand dollars was all my capital when I came to Seattle to take mycourse in journalism. I expected it to see me through. But, well, it wasmy first week at the University--fortunately I had paid the expenses ofthe first semester in advance--when one night a couple of fellows I knewbrought me down to see the town. I didn't know much about a city then; Ihad grown up over in the sage-brush country, and I never had heard of ahighball. To start with I had two, then I got interested in a game ofroulette, and the last I remember I was learning to play poker. But I musthave had more high-balls; the boys said afterwards they left me early inthe evening with a new acquaintance; they couldn't get me to go home. Inever knew how I got back to the dorm, and the next day, when I woke, thestubs of my checkbook showed I had signed practically all of my twothousand away. "

There was a brief silence. Out in the main room the orchestra began toplay. Miss Atkins was looking at Jimmie, and her scarlet lips were closedlike a straight cord. 

He drew his hand over his smooth, close-cut, dark hair and took a longdraught from his glass of ice-water. "I can't make you understand how Ifelt about it, " he went on, "but that two thousand was the price of myfather's ranch over near the Columbia. It stood for years of privation, heart-breaking toil, and disappointment--the worst kind. Two seasons ofdrouth we saw the whole wheat crop blister and go to ruin. I carried waterin buckets from the river up to that plateau day after day, just to keepour home garden and a little patch of grass alive. And mother carried tooup that breaking slope in the desert sun. It was thinking of that made me--all in. She worked the same way with the stock. Something lacking in thesoil affected the feed, and some of the calves were born without hair;their bones were soft. It baffled my father and every man along that rimof the desert, but not mother. She said doctors prescribed lime forrickety human babies, and she made limewater and mixed it with the feed. It was just the thing. She was a small woman, but plucky from start tofinish. And we, Dad and I, didn't know what it was costing her--till shewas gone. "

There was another silence. In the orchestra, out beyond the palms andscreens of the Venetian room, the first violin was playing the_Humoresque_. The girl leaned forward slightly, watching Jimmie's face. Her lips were parted, and an unexpected sympathy softened her eyes. 

"She had been a school teacher back in Iowa, " he resumed, "and long winterevenings and Sundays when she could, she always had her books out. Up tothe year I was twenty, she taught me all I knew. She tried her best tomake a man of me, and I can see now how she turned my mind to journalism. She said some day there was going to be an opening for a newspaper rightthere in the Columbia desert. Where a great river received the waters ofanother big stream, there was bound to be a city. She saw farther than wedid. The High Line canal was only a pipe dream then, but she believed itwould come true. When she died, we hadn't the heart to stay on with theranch, so Dad gave it to me, to sell for what I could get, and went backto Iowa. He said he had promised her he would give me a chance at theState University, and that was the best he could do. And, well, you see Ihad to come to the U. Of W. To stay, and I was used to work. I did allsorts of stunts out of hours and managed to pull through the secondsemester. Then I hiked over the mountains to the Wenatchee valley andearned enough that summer vacation to tide me over the next year. I had afriend there in the sage-brush country, a station agent named Bailey, whohad blown a thousand dollars into a tract of desert land he hadn't seenoff the map. He was the kind of fellow to call himself all kinds of afool, then go ahead and make that ground pay his money back. He saw a wayto bring it under irrigation and had it cleared and set to apples. But, while he was waiting for the trees to grow, he put in fillers of alfalfaand strawberries. He was operating for the new Milwaukee railroad then, and hired me to harvest his crops. They paid my wages and the two Japs Ihad to help, with a snug profit. And his trees were doing fine; thrifty, every one in the twenty acres. Last year they began to bear, only a fewapples to a tree, but for flavor and size fit for Eden. This year he isgiving up his position with the Milwaukee; his orchards are going to makehim rich. And he wrote me the other day that the old ranch I threw away iscoming under the new High Line ditch. The company that bought it hasplatted it into fruit tracts. Think-of that! Trees growing all over thatpiece of desert. Water running to waste, where mother and I carried it inbuckets through the sand, in the sweltering heat, up that miserableslope. "

The Society Editor drew a full breath and settled back in her chair. Herglance fell to her glass, and she laid her fingers on the thin stem. Jimmie refreshed himself again with the ice-water. "I didn't mean to gointo the story so deep, " he said, "but you are a good listener. "

"It was worth listening to, " she answered earnestly. "I've always wonderedabout your mother; I knew she must have been nice. But you must simplyhate the sight of cards now. I am sorry I said what I did. And I don'tcare how it happened, here is to that 'Little Streak of Luck. ' May it leadto the great pay-streak. "

She reached her glass out for Jimmie to touch with his, then raised it toher lips. Daniels drank and held his glass off to examine the remainingliquor, like a connoisseur. "I play cards a little sometimes, " heconfessed; "on boats and places where I have to kill time. But, " and hebrightened, "it was this way about that streak of luck. I was detailed towrite up the new Yacht Club quarters at West Seattle, with illustrationsto show the finer boats at the anchorage and, while I was on the landingmaking an exposure of the Morganstein yacht, a tender put off with amessage for me to come aboard. Mr. Morganstein had seen me from the deck, where he was nursing his injured leg. He was lonesome, I suppose. Therewas no one else in sight, though as I stepped over the side, I heard avictrola playing down below. 'How are you?' he said. 'Have a seat. ' Thenhe scowled down the companionway and called: 'Elizabeth, stop thatinfernal machine, will you?'

"The music was turned off, and pretty soon Miss Morganstein came up thestairs. She was stunning, in a white sailor suit with red fixings, eyesblack as midnight; piles of raven hair. But as soon as he had introducedus, and she had settled his pillows to suit him--he was lying in one ofthose invalid chairs--he sent her off to mix a julep or something. Then hesaid he presumed we were going to have a fine cut of the _Aquila_ in theSunday paper, if I was the reporter who made that exposure at the time ofthe accident to his car. I told him yes, I was Daniels, representing the_Press_, and had the good fortune to be in Snoqualmie Pass that day. 'Iwas sure of it, ' he said. 'Watched you over there with these binoculars. 'He put the glasses down on a table and opened a drawer and took out hisfountain-pen and checkbook. 'That write-up was so good, ' he said, handingme the blank he had filled, 'I want to make you a little present. But youare the first _Press_ reporter I ever gave anything to, and I want thiskept quiet. '

"I thanked him, but when I looked at that check I woke up. It was for acool hundred dollars. I tried to make him take it back; I told him mypaper was paying me; besides, I couldn't accept all the credit; that youhad fixed up the story and put the names right, and the first cut wasyours. 'Never mind, ' he said, 'I have something else for your society missto do. I am going to have her describe my new country place, when it's allin shape. Takes a woman to get hold of the scenery and color schemes. 'Then he insisted I had earned the extra money. Not one man in a hundredwould have been quick enough to make that exposure, and the picture wascertainly fine of the whole group. In fact, he wanted that film of the carswinging into the embankment. He wanted to have an enlargement made. "

"I see, " said Miss Atkins slowly, "I see. " She paused, scooping the crestfrom her pineapple ice, then added: "Now we are getting to the core. "

"I told him it belonged to the paper, but I thought I would be able to getit for him, " Jimmie resumed. "And he asked me to bring it down to PierNumber Three just before four this afternoon. The _Aquila_ was startingfor a little cruise around Bainbridge Island to his country place, and ifI wanted to work in something about her equipment and speed, I might sailas far as the Navy Yard, where they would make a short stop. Then hementioned that Hollis Tisdale might be aboard, and possibly I would beable to pick up a little information on the coal question. TheseGovernment people were 'non-committal, ' he said, but there was a snugcorner behind the awnings aft, where in any case I could work up my YachtClub copy. "

"So, " remarked the Society Editor slowly, "it's a double core. "

CHAPTER XIV

ON BOARD THE AQUILA

Tisdale's rooms were very warm that afternoon. It was another of thoserare, breezeless days, an aftermath of August rather than the advent ofIndian summer, and the sun streamed in at the western windows. His injuredhand, his whole feverish body, protested against the heat. The peroxidewhich he had applied to the hurt at Wenatchee had brought little relief, and that morning the increased pain and swelling had forced him to consulta surgeon, who had probed the wound, cut a little, bandaged it, andannounced curtly that it looked like infection. 

"But I can't afford to nurse this hand"--Hollis rose from the couch wherehe had thrown himself when he came in from the doctor's office--"I oughtto be using it now. " He went over and drew the blinds, but the atmosphereseemed more stifling. He needed air, plenty of it, clean and fresh inGod's out-of-doors; it was being penned in these close rooms that raisedhis temperature. He pulled the shades up again and took a turn across thefloor. Then he noticed the crumpled note which, aimed left-handedly, hadmissed the waste basket earlier, when he opened his mail, and he went overand picked it up. He stood smoothing it on his desk. A perfume, spicy yetsuggestive of roses, pervaded the sheet, which was written in a round, firm, masculine hand, under the gilt monogram, M. F. His glance ran throughthe lines:

"I am writing for my brother, Frederic Morganstein, who is recuperatingaboard his yacht, to ask you to join us on a little cruise aroundBainbridge Island this afternoon at four o'clock. Ever since his interestshave been identified with Alaska, he has hoped to know you personally, andhe wishes particularly to meet you now, to thank you for your services inSnoqualmie Pass. In the general confusion after the accident I am afraidnone of us remembered to. 

"We expect to touch at the Navy Yard and again at Frederic's new villa tosee how the work is coming on, but the trip should not take longer thanfour hours, and we are dining informally on board. 

"Do not trouble to answer. If the salt air is a strong enough lure thiswarm day, you will find the _Aquila_ at Pier Three. 

"Very truly yours, "MARCIA FEVERSHAM. 

"Tuesday, September seventh. "

"That floating palace ought to stir up some breeze. " Tisdale crumpled theinvitation again and dropped it deliberately in the waste basket. "Andto-morrow I shall be shut up on my eastbound train. " He looked at hiswatch; there was still half an hour to spare before the time of sailing. "After all, why not?"

A little later, when he had hurried into white flannels as expeditiouslyas possible with his disabled hand, the suggestion crept to his innerconsciousness that he might find Mrs. Weatherbee aboard the _Aquila_. "Well, why not?" he asked himself again. "Why not?" and picked up his hat. 

So he came to Pier Number Three and, looking down the gangway as hecrossed, saw her standing in the little group awaiting him on the afterdeck. Morganstein spoke to him and introduced him to the ladies. He didnot avoid her look and, under his appraising eyes, he saw the color beginto play in her face. Then her glance fell to his bandaged hand, and aninquiry rushed to her lips. But she checked the words in time and drewslowly aloof to a seat near the rail. 

Tisdale took a place near the reclining chair of his host. When sheventured to give him a swift side-glance, his mouth set austerely. But thespace between them became electrical. It was as though wireless messagespassed continually between them. 

"Look back. See how often I tried to tell you! My courage failed. Believein me. I am not the monster you thought. "

And always the one response: "The facts are all against you. "

Duwamish Head had dropped from sight; Magnolia Bluff fell far astern, andthe _Aquila_ steamed out into the long, broad reach of Puget Sound; butthough the tide had turned, there was still no wind. The late sun touchedthe glassy swells with the changing effect of a prism. The prow of thecraft shattered this mirror, and her wake stretched in a ragged andwidening crack. But under the awnings Frederic Morganstein's guests foundit delightfully cool. Only Jimmie Daniels, huddled on a stool in theglare, outside the lowered curtain that cut him off from the breezecreated by the motion of the yacht, felt uncomfortably warm. 

The representative of the _Press_ had arrived on board in time to seeTisdale come down the pier and had discreetly availed himself of thesecluded place that the financier had previously put to his disposal. Hehad heard it told at the newspaper office that Tisdale, whose goldenstatements were to furnish his little scoop, Hollis Tisdale of Alaska andthe Geographical Survey, who knew more about the coal situation than anyother man, was also the most silent, baffling sphinx on record when itcame to an interview. 

At the moment the _Aquila_ came into the open, the Japanese boy placed abowl of punch, with, pleasant clinking of ice, on the wicker table beforeMrs. Feversham, who began to serve it. Like Elizabeth's, the emblems onher nautical white costume were embroidered in scarlet, and a red silkhandkerchief was knotted loosely on her full, boyish chest. She was notless striking, and indeed she believed this meeting on the deck of theyacht, where formalities were quickly abridged, would appeal to theout-of-doors man and pave the way to a closer acquaintance in Washington. But Tisdale's glance involuntarily moved beyond to the woman seated by therail. Her head was turned so that he caught the finely chiseled profile, the outward sweep of black lashes, the adorable curve of the oval chin tomeet the throat. She too wore the conventional sailor suit, but withoutcolor, and this effect of purity, the inscrutable delicacy of her, seemedto set her apart from these dark, materialistic sisters as though she hadstrayed like a lost vestal into the wrong atmosphere. His brows relaxed. For a moment the censor that had come to hold dominion in his heart wasoff guard. He felt the magnetism of her personality drawing him once more;he desired to cross the deck to her, drop a word into those deep places hehad discovered, and see her emotions stir and overflow. Then suddenly theenthusiasm, for which during that drive through the mountains he hadlearned to watch, broke in her face. "Look!" she exclaimed softly. "SeeRainier!"

Every one responded, but Tisdale started from his chair, and went over andstood beside her. There, southward, through golden haze, with the dark andwooded bluffs of Vashon Island flanking the deep foreground of opal sea, the dome lifted like a phantom peak. "It doesn't seem to belong to ourworld, " she said, and her voice held its soft minor note, "but a vision ofsome higher, better country. "

She turned to give him her rare, grave look, and instantly his eyestelegraphed appreciation. Then he remembered. The swift revulsion cameover him. He swung on his heel to go back to his chair, and the unexpectedmovement brought him in conjunction with the punch tray. The boy rightedit dexterously, and she took the offered glass and settled again in herseat. But from his place across the deck, Tisdale noticed a drop hadfallen, spreading, above the hem of her white skirt. The red stain heldhis austere gaze. It became a symbol of blood; on the garment of thevestal the defilement of sacrifice. 

She was responsible for Weatherbee's death. He must not forget that. Andhe saw through her. Now he saw. Had she not known at the beginning he wasan out-of-doors man? That he lived his best in the high spaces close toNature's heart? And so determined to win him in this way? She had meant towin him. Even yet, she could not trust alone to his desire to see David'sproject through, but threw in the charm of her own personality to swingthe balance. Oh, she understood him. At the start she had read him, measured him, sounded him through. That supreme moment, at the crisis ofthe storm, had she not lent herself to the situation, counting the price?At this thought, the heat surged to his face. He wished in that instant topunish her, break her, but deeper than his anger with her burned a furyagainst himself. That he should have allowed her to use him, make a foolof him. He who had blamed Weatherbee, censured Foster, for less. 

Then Marcia Feversham took advantage of the silence and, at her firststatement, Jimmie Daniels sat erect; he forgot his thirst, the discomfortof his position, and opened his notebook on his knee. "I understand yourwork this season was in the Matanuska coal region, Mr. Tisdale; you mustbe able to guess a little nearer than the rest of us as to the outcome ofthe Naval tests. Is it the Copper River Northwestern or the Prince WilliamDevelopment Company that is to have the open door?"

Tisdale's glance moved from the opal sea to the lady's face; the geniallines crinkled faintly at the corners of his eyes. "I believe the Beringand Matanuska coal will prove equally good for steaming purposes, " hereplied. 

Frederic Morganstein grasped the arms of his chair and moved a little, risking a twinge of pain, to look squarely at Tisdale. "You mean theGovernment may conserve both?" His voice was habitually thick anddeliberate, as though the words had difficulty to escape his heavy lips. "That, sir, would lock the shackles on every resource in Alaska. Guessyou've seen how construction and development are forced to a standstill, pending the coal decision. Guess you know our few finished miles ofrailroad, built at immense expense and burdened with an outrageous tax, are operating under imported coal. Placed an order with Japan in thespring for three thousand tons. "

"Think of it!" exclaimed Marcia. "Coal from the Orient, the lowest grade, when we should be exporting the best. Think of the handicap, the injusticeput upon those pioneer Alaskans who fought tremendous obstacles to openthe interior; who paved the way for civilization. "

Tisdale's face clouded. "I am thinking of those pioneers, madam, and Ibelieve the Government is going to. Present laws can be easily amended andenforced to fit nearly every situation until better ones are framed. Thesettler and prospector should have privileges, but at the same time theGovernment must put some restriction on speculation and monopoly. "

Behind the awning Jimmie's pencil was racing down the page, andMorganstein dropped his head back on the pillow; a purplish flush rose inhis face. 

"The trouble is, " Hollis went on evenly, "each senator has been soover-burdened with the bills of his own State that Alaska has beenside-tracked. But I know the President's interest is waking; he wants tosee the situation intelligently; in fact, he favors a Government-builtrailroad from the coast to the upper Yukon. And I believe as soon as aselection is made for naval use, some of those old disputed coal claims--some, not all--will be allowed. Or else--Congress must pass a bill tolease Alaska coal lands. "

"Lease Alaska coal lands?" Frederic started up again so recklessly he wasforced to sink back with a groan. "Do you mean we won't be allowed to mineany coal in Alaska, in that case, except by lease?" And he added, turninghis cheek to the pillow, "Oh, damn!"

Tisdale seemed not to have heard the question. His glance moved slowlyagain over the opal sea and rested on the shining ramparts of theOlympics, off the port bow. "Constance!" he exclaimed mellowly. "TheBrothers! Eleanor!" Then he said whimsically: "Thank God they can't setsteam-shovels to work there and level those peaks and fill the canyons. Doyou know?"--his look returned briefly and the genial lines deepened--"those mountains were my playground when I was a boy. My last huntingtrip, the year I finished college, came to an untimely end up there in thegorge of the Dosewallups. You see it? That shaded contour cross-cuttingthe front of Constance. "

Elizabeth, who had opened her workbag, looked up with sudden interest. "Was there an accident?" she asked. "Something desperate and thrilling?"

"It seemed so to me, " he said. 

Then Mrs. Weatherbee rose and came over to the port rail. "I see, " shesaid, and shaded her eyes with her hand. "You mean where that gold mistrises between that snow slope and the blue rim of that lower, nearermountain. And you had camped in that gorge"--her hand dropped; she turnedto him expectantly--"with friends, on a hunting trip?"

He paused a moment then answered slowly: "Yes, madam, with one of them. Sandy, our old camp cook, made a third in the party. "

CHAPTER XV

THE STORY OF THE TENAS PAPOOSE

Tisdale paused another moment, while his far-seeing gaze sifted theshadows of Constance, then began: "We had made camp that afternoon, at thepoint where Rocky Brook tumbles over the last boulders to join the swiftcurrent of the Dosewallups. I am something of an angler, and Sandy knewhow to treat a Dolly Varden to divide honors with a rainbow; so while theothers were pitching the tents, it fell to me to push up stream with myrod and flies. The banks rose in sharp pitches under low boughs of fir, hemlock, or cedar, but I managed to keep well to the bed of the stream, working from boulder to boulder and stopping to make a cast wherever ariffle looked promising. Finally, to avoid an unusually deep pool, Idetoured around through the trees. It was very still in there; not eventhe cry of a jay or the drum of a woodpecker to break the silence, untilsuddenly I heard voices. Then, in a tangle of young alder, I picked up atrail and came soon on a group of squaws picking wild blackberries. Theymade a great picture with their beautifully woven, gently flaring, water-tight baskets, stained like pottery; their bright shawls wrappedscarfwise around their waists out of the way; heads bound in gayhandkerchiefs. It was a long distance from any settlement, and theystood watching me curiously while I wedged myself between twin cedars, onover a big fallen fir, out of sight. 

"A little later I found myself in a small pocket hemmed by cliffs ofnearly two hundred feet, over which the brook plunged in a fine cataract. Above, where it cut the precipice, a hanging spur of rock took the shapeof a tiger's profile, and a depression colored by mineral deposit formed abig red eye; midway the stream struck shelving rock, breaking into a scoreof cascades that spread out fan-shape and poured into a deep, green, stone-lined pool; stirring, splashing, rippling ceaselessly, but so limpidI could see the trout. It was a place that held me. When at last I putaway my flies and started down the bank, I knew dinner must be waiting forme, but I had a string of beauties to pacify Sandy. As I hurried down tothe fallen tree, I heard the squaws calling to each other at a differentpoint out of sight up the ridge; then I found a step in the rough boleand, setting my hands on the top, vaulted over. The next instant I wouldhave given anything, the best years of my life, to undo that leap. There, where my foot had struck, left with some filled baskets in the lee of thelog, lay a small papoose. "

Tisdale's voice vibrated softly and stopped, while his glance moved fromface to face. He held the rapt attention of every one, and in the pausethe water along the keel played a minor interlude. Behind the awning adifferent sound broke faintly. It was like the rustle of paper; a turnedpage. 

"The baby was bound to the usual-shaped board, " Hollis went on, "with awoven pocket for the feet and a broad carrying-strap to fit the head ofthe mother. I sat down and lifted the little fellow to my knees. I woreheavy shoes, studded with nails for mountain climbing, and the mark of myheel was stamped, cruelly, on the small brown cheek; the rim had crushedthe temple. "

Tisdale halted again, and in the silence Elizabeth sighed. Then, "I'll betyou didn't waste any time in that place, " exclaimed Morganstein. 

"The eyes were closed, " resumed Tisdale gently. "I saw the blow had takenhim in his sleep, but the wantonness, the misery of it, turned me cold. Then, you are right, I was seized with a panic to get away. I laid thepapoose back in the place where I had found him and left my string offish, a poor tribute, with what money I had about me, and hurried downinto the bed of the brook. 

"The squaws were several days' travel from the reservation, but Iremembered we had passed a small encampment a few miles down the river andanother near the mouth of the Dosewallups, where a couple of Indians werefishing from canoes. I knew they would patrol the stream as soon as thealarm was given, and my only chance was to make a wide detour, avoiding mycamp where they would first look for me, swim the river, and push throughthe forest, around that steep, pyramid peak to the next canyon. You seeit?--The Duckabush cuts through there to tide water. I left no trail incrossing the stony bed of the brook, and took advantage of a low basaltbluff in climbing the farther bank. It was while I was working my way overthe rock into cover of the trees that the pleasant calling on the ridgebehind me changed to the first terrible cry. The mother had found her deadbaby. 

"Twilight was on me when I stopped at last on the river bank to take offmy shoes. I rolled them with my coat in a snug pack, which I secured witha length of fish-line to my shoulders before I plunged in. The current wasswift; I lost headway, and a whirlpool caught me; I was swept under, cameup grazing a ragged rock, dipped again through a riffle, and when Ifinally gathered myself and won out to the opposite shore, there was mycamp in full view below me. I was winded, bruised, shivering, and while Ilay resting I watched Sandy. He stirred the fire under his kettle, put afresh lag on, then walked to the mouth of the brook and stood looking upstream, wondering, no doubt, what was keeping me. Then a long cry came upthe gorge. It was lost in the rush of the rapids and rose again in awailing dirge. The young squaw was mourning for her papoose. It struck mecolder than the waters of the Dosewallups. Sandy turned to listen. I knewI had only to call, show myself, and the boys would be ready to fight forme every step of the trail down to the settlement; but there was no needto drag them in; I hoped they would waste no time in going out, and Ifound my pocket compass, set a course, and pushed into the undergrowth. 

"That night journey was long-drawn torture. The moon rose, but its lightbarely penetrated the fir boughs. My coat and shoes were gone, torn fromme in the rapids, and I walked blindly into snares of broken and prongedbranches, trod tangles of blackberry, and more than once my foot waspierced by the barbs of a devil's-club. Dawn found me stumbling into asmall clearing. I was dull with weariness, but I saw a cabin with smokerising from the chimney, and the possibility of a breakfast heartened me. As I hurried to the door, it opened, and a woman with a milking pail cameout. At sight of me she stopped, her face went white, and, dropping thebucket, she moved backward into the room. The next moment she brought arifle from behind the door. 'If you come one step nearer, ' she cried, 'I'll shoot. '"

Tisdale paused, and the humor broke gently in his face. "I saw she wasquite capable of it, " he went on, "and I stopped. It was the first time Ihad seemed formidable to a woman, and I raised my hand to my head--my hatwas gone--to smooth my ruffled hair; then my glance fell from my shirtsleeves, soiled and in tatters, down over my torn trousers to my shoelessfeet; my socks were in rags. 'I am sorry, ' I began, but she refused tolisten. 'Don't you say a word, ' she warned and had the rifle to hershoulder, looking along the sight. 'If you do, I'll shoot, and I'm apretty good shot. '

"'I haven't a doubt of that, ' I answered, taking the word, 'and even ifyou were not, you could hardly miss at that range. '

"Her color came back, and she stopped sighting to look me over. 'Now, ' shesaid, 'you take that road down the Duckabush, and don't you stop short ofa mile. Ain't you ashamed, ' she shrilled, as I moved ignominiously intothe trail, 'going 'round scaring ladies to death?'

"But I did not go that mile. Out of sight of the cabin I found myself inone of those old burned sections, overgrown with maple. The trees werevery big, and the gnarled, fantastic limbs and boles were wrapped in thickbronze moss. It covered the huge, dead trunks and logs of the destroyedtimber, carpeted the earth, and out of it grew a natural fernery. " Heturned his face a little, involuntarily seeking Mrs. Weatherbee. "I wishyou could have seen that place, " he said. "Imagine a great billowing seaof infinite shades of green, fronds waving everywhere, light, beautifullystencilled elk-fern, starting with a breadth of two feet and tapering tolengths of four or five; sword-fern shooting stiffly erect, and wholeknolls mantled in maidenhair. "

"I know, I know!" she responded breathlessly. "It must have beenbeautiful, but it was terrible if you were pursued. I have seen such aplace. Wherever one stepped, fronds bent or broke and made a plain trail. But of course you kept to the beaten road. "

Tisdale shook his head. "That road outside the clearing was simply anarrow, little used path; and I was so dead tired I began to look for aplace where I might take an hour's rest. I chose a big cedar snag a fewrods from the trail, the spreading kind that is always hollow, and foundthe opening screened in fern and just wide enough to let me in. Almostinstantly I was asleep and--do you know?"--the humor broke again gently--"it was late in the afternoon when I wakened. And I was only roused thenby a light blow on my face. I started up. The thing that had struck me wasa moccasin, and its mate had dropped at my elbow. Then I saw a can of milkwith a loaf of bread placed inside my door. But there was no one in sight, though I hurried to look, and I concluded that for some unaccountablereason that inhospitable woman had changed her opinion of me and wanted tomake amends. I took a long draught of the milk--it was the best I evertasted--then picked up one of the moccasins. It was new and elaboratelybeaded, the kind a woman fancies for wall decorations, and she hadprobably bartered with some passing squaw for the pair. But the sizelooked encouraging, and with a little ripping and cutting, I managed towork it on. Pinned to the toe of the other, I found a note. It ran likethis: 'Two Indians are trailing you. I sent them down-stream, but theywill come back. They told me about that poor little papoose. '

"I saw she must have followed me that morning, while searching for hercow, or perhaps to satisfy herself I had left the clearing, and sodiscovered my hiding-place. The broader track of her skirts must havecovered mine through the fern. "

Tisdale paused. The _Aquila_ had come under the lee of Bainbridge Island. The Olympics were out of sight, as the yacht, heeling to the first tiderip, began to turn into the Narrows, and the batteries of Fort Wardcommanded her bows; a beautiful wooded point broke the line of theopposite shore. It rimmed a small cove. But Mrs. Weatherbee was notinterested; her attention remained fixed on Tisdale. Indeed he held theeyes of every one. Then Marcia Feversham relieved the tension. "And theIndians came back?" she asked. 

"Oh, yes, that was inevitable; they had to come back to pick up my trail. But you don't know what a different man that rest and the moccasins madeof me. In five minutes I was on the road and making my best time up thegorge, in the opposite direction. The woman was standing in her door as Ipassed the cabin; she put a warning finger to her lips and waved me on. Ina little while the ground began to fall in short pitches; sometimes itbroke in steps over granite spurs where the exposed roots of fir andhemlock twined; then I came to a place where an immense boulder, big as ahouse, moving down the mountain, had left a swath through the timber, andI heard the thunder of the Duckabush. I turned into this cut, intending tocross the river and work down the canyon on the farther side, and as Iwent I saw the torrent storming below me, a winding sheet of spray. Theboulder had stopped on a level bluff, but two sections, splitting from it, had dropped to the bank underneath and, tilting together in an apex, formed a small cavern through which washed a rill. It made a considerablepool and, dividing, poured on either side of the uprooted trunk of a firthat bridged the stream. The log was very old; it sagged mid-channel, asthough a break had started, and snagged limbs stretched a line ofpitfalls. But a few yards below the river plunged in cataract, and above Ifound sheer cliffs curving in a double horseshoe. It was impossible toswim the racing current, and I came back to the log. By that time anothertwilight was on me. The forest had been very still; I hadn't noticed abird all day, but while I stood weighing the chances of that crossing, Iheard the harsh call of a kingfisher or jay. It seemed to come from theslope beyond the bluff, and instantly an answer rose faintly in thedirection of the trail. I was leaning on one of the tilted slabs, and Iwormed myself around the base, to avoid leaving an impression in the wetsand, and dipped under the trailing bough of a cedar, through the pool, and crawled up into the cavern. There wasn't room to stand erect, and Iwaited crouching, over moccasins in water. The cedar began to sway--I hadused the upper boughs to ease myself in sliding down the slab from thebluff--a fragment of granite dropped, then an Indian came between me andthe light. 

"While he stopped to examine the sand at the edge of the pool, anotherfollowed. He ventured a short distance out on the log and came back, whilethe first set his rifle against the trunk and sank on his hands and kneesto drink. The water, roiled probably by my steps, was not to his taste, and he rejected it with a disgusted 'Hwah!' When he rose, he stood lookingacross the pool into my cavern. I held my breath, hugging the bluff behindme like a lizard. It was so dark I doubted if even his lynx eyes coulddiscover me, but he lifted the gun and for an instant I believed he meantto send a shot into the hole. Then he seemed to think better of wastinghis ammunition and led the way down-stream. They stopped on a level bankover the cataract, and in a little while I caught the odor of smoke andlater of cooking trout. My cramped position grew intolerable, and finallyI crept out into the pool to reconnoitre. The light of their fire showedboth figures stretched on the ground. They had camped for the night. 

"It was useless to try to go down-stream; before dawn Indians would patrolthe whole canyon; neither could I double back to the Dosewallups wherethey had as surely left a watch; my only course was to risk the logcrossing at once, before the moon rose, and strike southward to theLilliwaup, where, at the mouth of the gorge, I knew the mail steamer madeinfrequent stops. I began to work up between the gnarled roots to the topof the trunk and pushed laboriously with infinite caution out over thechannel. I felt every inch of that log, but once a dead branch snappedshort in my hand, and the noise rang sharp as a pistol shot. I waited, flattening myself to the bole, but the thunder of the river must havedrowned the sound; the Indians did not stir. So at last I came to thedanger point. Groping for the break, I found it started underneath, reaching well around. Caused probably by some battering bulk in the springfloods, and widening slowly ever since, it needed only a slight shock tobring it to a finish. I grasped a stout snag and tried to swing myselfover the place, but there came a splitting report; and there was just timeto drop astride above that stub of limb, when the log parted below it, andI was in the river. I managed to keep my hold and my head out of water, though the current did its best to suck me under. Then I saw that whilethe main portion of the tree had been swept away, the top to which I clungremained fixed to the bank, wedged no doubt between trunks or boulders. AsI began to draw myself up out of the wash, a resinous bough thrown on thefire warned me the Indians were roused, and I flattened again like achameleon on the slippery incline. They came as far as the rill and stoodlooking across, then went down-stream, no doubt to see whether the trunkhad stranded on the riffles below the cataract. But they were back beforeI could finish the log, and the rising moon illuminated the gorge. I wasforced to swing to the shady side of the snag. The time dragged endlessly;a wind piping down the watercourse cut like a hundred whips through my wetclothes; and I think in the end I only kept my hold because my fingerswere too stiff to let go. But at last the Indians stretched themselvesonce more on the ground; their fire burned low, and I wormed myself upwithin reach of a friendly young hemlock, grasped a bough, and gainedshelving rock. The next moment I relaxed, all but done for, on a dry bedof needles. "

Tisdale paused, looking again from face to face, while the humor gleamedin his own. "I am making a long story of it, " he said modestly. "You mustbe tired!"

"Tired!" exclaimed Elizabeth, "It's the very best story I ever heard. Please go on. "

"Of course you escaped, " supplemented Marcia Feversham, "but we want toknow how. And what was your chum doing all the time? And wasn't thereanother woman?"

Frederic Morganstein rumbled a short laugh. "Maybe you made the Lilliwaup, but I'll bet ten to one you missed your steamer. "

Tisdale's eyes rested involuntarily again on Mrs. Weatherbee. She did notsay anything, but she met the look with her direct gaze; her short upperlip parted, and the color burned softly in her cheek. "I made theLilliwaup, " he went on, "about two miles from the mouth, between the upperand lower falls. The river breaks in cascades there, hundreds of them asfar as one can see, divided by tremendous boulders. "

"We know the place, " said Elizabeth quickly. "Our first cruise on the_Aquila_ was to the Lilliwaup. We climbed to the upper falls and spenthours along the cascades. Those boulders, hundreds of them, rose throughthe spray, all covered with little trees and ferns. There never wasanything like it, but we called it The Fairy Isles. "

Tisdale nodded. "It was near the end of that reach I found myself. Thechannels gather below, you remember, and pour down a steep declivity undera natural causeway. But the charm and grandeur were lost on me that day. Iwanted to reach the old trail from the falls on the opposite shore, and Iknew that stone bridge fell short a span, so I began to work my way fromboulder to boulder out to the main stream. It was a wide chasm to leap, with an upward spring to a tilted table of basalt, and I overbalanced, slipped down, and, coasting across the surface, recovered enough on theedge to ease myself off to a nearly submerged ledge. There I stopped. " Hepaused an instant, and his eyes sought Marcia Feversham's; the amusementplayed lightly on his flexible lips. "I had stumbled on another woman. Shewas seated on a lower boulder, sketching the stone bridge. I was behindher, but I saw a pretty hand and forearm, some nice brown hair tuckedunder a big straw hat, and a trim and young figure in a well-made gown ofblue linen. Then she said pleasantly, without turning her head: 'Well, John, what luck?'

"I drew back into a shallow niche of the rock. I had not forgotten thefirst impression I made on the woman up the Duckabush and had no desire to'scare ladies. ' But my steamer was almost due, and I hoped John would comesoon. Getting no reply from him, she rose and glanced around. Then shelooked at her watch, put her hand to her mouth, and sent a long call upthe gorge. 'Joh-n. Joh-n, hello!' She had a carrying, singer's voice, butit brought no answer, so after a moment she gathered up her things andstarted towards the bank. I watched her disappear among the trees; then, my fear of missing the steamer growing stronger than the dread ofterrifying her, I followed. The trail drops precipitously around the lowerfalls, you remember, and I struck the level where the river bends at thefoot of the cataract, with considerable noise. I found myself in a sort ofopen-air parlor flanked by two tents; rustic seats under a canopy of mapleboughs, hammocks, a percolator bubbling on a sheet-iron contrivance overthe camp-fire coals, and, looking at me across a table, the girl. 'I begyour pardon, ' I hurried to say. 'Don't be afraid of me. '

"'Afraid?' she repeated. 'Afraid--of you?' And the way she said it, with ahalf scornful, half humorous surprise, the sight of her standing there soself-reliant, buoyant, the type of that civilization I had tried so hardto reach, started a reaction of my overstrained nerves. Still, I think Imight have held myself together had I not at that moment caught the voiceof that unhappy squaw. It struck a chill to my bones, and I sank down onthe nearest seat and dropped my face in my hands, completely unmanned. 

"I knew she came around the table and stood looking me over, but when Ifinally managed to lift my head, she had gone back to the percolator tobring me a cup of coffee. It had a pleasant aroma, and the cream withwhich she cooled it gave it a nice color. You don't know how that firstdraught steadied me. 'I am sorry, madam, ' I said, 'but I have had a hardexperience in these woods, and I expected to catch the mail boat forSeattle; but that singing down-stream means I am cut off. '

"She started a little and looked me over again with new interest. 'Thesquaw, ' she said, 'is mourning for her papoose. It was a terribleaccident. A young hunter up the Dosewallups, where the Indians wereberrying, killed the baby in jumping a log. '

"'Yes, madam, ' I answered, and rose and put the cup down, 'I am the man. It is harder breaking trail to the Lilliwaup than coming by canoe, and theIndians have beaten me. I must double back now to the Duckabush. By thattime, they will have given up the watch. '

"'Wait, ' she said, 'let me think. ' But it did not take her long. A turnthe length of the table, and her face brightened. 'Why, it's the easiestthing in the world, ' she said. 'I must row you to the steamer. ' Then whenI hesitated to let her run the risk, she explained that her party hadmoved their camp from the mouth of the Dosewallups after these Indiansarrived there; they knew her; they had seen her rowing about, and shealways carried a good many traps; an easel, sun umbrella, cushions, asteamer rug. I had only to lie down in the bottom of the boat, and shewould cover me. And she drew back the flap of the nearest tent and told meto change my clothes for a brown suit she laid out, and canvas shoes. 'Come, ' she urged, 'there's time enough but none to waste; and any minutethe Indians may surprise you. '

"She was waiting with the rug and pillows and a pair of oars when I cameout, and helped me carry them to the boat which was beached a shortdistance below her camp. When it was launched, and I was stowed under thebaggage, with an ample breathing hole through which I could watch therower, she pushed off and fell into a long, even stroke. Presently Inoticed she had nice eyes, brown and very deep, and I thought her face wasbeautiful. It had the expressiveness, the swift intelligence that goeswith a strong personality, and through all her determination, I felt arunning note of caution. I knew she saw clearly while she braved theextremity. After a while her breast began to rise and fall with theexercise, her cheeks flushed, and I saw she had met the flood tide. Allthis time the voice of the squaw grew steadily nearer. I imagined her, asI had seen others before, kneeling on the bank, rocking herself, beatingher breast. Then it came over me that we were forced to hug the shore toavoid one of the reedy shallows that choked the estuary and must pass veryclose to her. The next moment there was a lull, and the girl looked acrossher shoulder and called 'Clahowya!' At the same time she rested on heroars long enough to take off her hat and toss it with careless directnesson my breathing hole. The squaw's answer came from above me, and sherepeated and intoned the word so that it seemed part of her dirge. 'Clahowya! Clahowya! Clahowya! Wake tenas papoose. Halo! Halo!' Thedespair of it cut me worse than lashes. Then I heard other voices; a dogbarked, and I understood we were skirting the encampment. 

"After that the noise grew fainter, and in a little while the girluncovered my face. The channel had widened; the tang of salt came on thewind; and when I ventured to raise my head a little, I saw the point atthe mouth of the river looming purple-black. Then, as we began to roundit, we came suddenly on a canoe, drifting broadside, with a single salmonhunter crouching in it, ready with his spear. It flashed over me that hewas one of the two Indians who had tracked me to the Duckabush; the tallerone who had tried to drink at the rill; then he made his throw and at thesame instant the girl's hat fell again on my face. I heard her call herpleasant 'Clahowya!' and she added, rowing on evenly: 'Hyas delatesalmon. ' The next moment his answer rang astern: 'Clahowya! Clahowya! Hyasdelate salmon. '

"At last I felt the swell of the open, and she leaned to uncover my faceonce more. 'The steamer is in sight, ' she said, and I raised my head againand saw the boat, a small moving blot with a trailer of smoke, far up thesapphire sea. Then I turned on my elbow and looked back. The canoe and theencampment were hidden by the point; we were drifting off the wharf of thesmall town-site, almost abandoned, where the steamer made her stop. Therewas nothing left to do but express my gratitude, which I did clumsilyenough. 

"'You mustn't make so much of it, ' she said; 'the first thing areservation Indian is taught is to forget the old law, a life for a life. '

"'I know that, ' I answered, 'still I couldn't have faced the best whiteman that first hour, and off there in the mountains, away from reservationinfluences, my chances looked small. I wish I could be as sure the men whowere with me are safe. '

"She gave me a long, calculating look. 'They will be--soon, ' she said. 'Mybrother Robert should be on the steamer with the superintendent andreservation guard. ' And she dipped her oars again, pointing the boat alittle more towards the landing, and watched the steamer while I siftedher meaning. 

"'So, ' I said at last. 'So they are there at that camp. You knew it andbrought me by. '

"'You couldn't have helped them any, ' she said, 'and you can go back, ifyou wish, with the guard. ' Then she told me how she had visited the campwith her brother Robert and had seen them bound with stout strips ofelk-hide. They had explained the accident and how one of them, to give metime at the start, had put himself in my place. "

Tisdale halted a moment; a wave of emotion crossed his face. His lookrested on Mrs. Weatherbee, and his eyes drew and held hers. She leanedforward a little; her lips parted over a hushed breath. It was as thoughshe braved while she feared his next words. "That possibility hadn'toccurred to me, " he went on, "yet I should have foreseen it, knowing theman as I did. We were built on the same lines, practically the same size, and we had outfitted together for the trip. He wore high, brown shoesspiked for mountain climbing, exactly like mine; he even matched the marksof that heel. But Sandy wouldn't stand for it. He declared there was athird man who had gone up Rocky Brook and had not come back. One of thesquaws who had seen me agreed with him, but they were bound and taken tothe encampment. The next morning an Indian found my coat and shoes lodgedon a gravel bar and picked up my trail. The camp moved then by canoearound to the mouth of the Duckabush. Taking the prisoners with them, andwaited for my trailers to come down. They had discovered me on the logcrossing when it fell, and believed I was drowned. "

There was another pause. Mrs. Weatherbee sighed and leaned back in herchair; then Mrs. Feversham said: "And they refused to let your substitutego?"

Tisdale nodded. "He was brought with Sandy along to the Lilliwaup. TheIndians were traveling home, and no doubt the reservation influence hadrestrained them; still, they were staying a second night on the Lilliwaup, and when Robert spoke to them they were sullen and ugly. That was why hehad hurried away to bring the superintendent down. He had started in hisPeterboro but expected to find a man on the way who would take him on inhis motor-boat. Once during the night John had drifted close to the campto listen, but things were quiet, and they had bridged the morning with alittle fishing and sketching up-stream. 

"'Suppose, ' I said at last, 'suppose you had been afraid of me. I shouldbe doubling back to the Duckabush now. As it is, I wouldn't give much fortheir opinion of me. '

"'I wish you could have heard that man Sandy, ' she said, and--did I tellyou she had a very nice smile? 'He called you true gold. ' And while shewent on to repeat the rest he had told her, it struck me pleasantly I waslistening to my own obituary. But the steamer was drawing close. Shewhistled the landing, and the girl dipped her oars again, pulling herlong, even strokes. I threw off the rug and sat erect, ready to ease theboat off as we came alongside. And there on the lower deck watching usstood a young fellow whom, from his resemblance to her, I knew as brotherRobert, with the superintendent from the reservation, backed by the wholepatrol. Then my old friend Doctor Wise, the new coroner at Hoodsport, cameedging through the crowd to take my hand. 'Well, well, Tisdale, old man, 'he said, 'this is good. Do you know they had you drowned--or worse?'"

Tisdale settled back in his chair and, turning his face, looked off theport bow. The Narrows had dropped behind, and for a moment the deck of the_Aquila_ slanted to the tide rip off Port Orchard; then she righted andraced lightly across the broad channel. Ahead, off Bremerton Navy Yard, some anchored cruisers rose in black silhouette against a brilliant sea. 

"And, " said Marcia Feversham, "of course you went to the camp in a bodyand released the prisoners. "

"Yes, we used the mail steamer's boats, and she waited for us until theinquest was over, then brought us on to Seattle. The motor-boat took thedoctor and superintendent home. "

"And the girl, " said Elizabeth after a moment, "did you never see heragain?"

"Oh, yes. " The genial lines deepened, and Hollis rose from his chair. "Often. I always look them up when I am in Seattle. "

"But who was John?"

"John? Why, he was her husband. "

The Olympics had reappeared; the sun dropped behind a cloud over a highcrest; shafts of light silvered the gorges; the peaks caught an amethystglow. Tisdale, tracing once more that far canyon across the front ofConstance, walked slowly forward into the bows. 

The yacht touched the Bremerton dock to take on the lieutenant who wasexpected aboard, and at the same time Jimmie Daniels swung lightly overthe side aft. The Seattle steamer whistled from her slip on the fartherside of the wharf, and he hurried to the gang-plank. There he sent aglance behind and saw Tisdale still standing with his back squared to thelanding, looking off over the harbor. And the _Press_ representativesmiled. He had gathered little information in regard to the coal question, but in that notebook, buttoned snugly away in his coat, he had set downthe papoose story, word for word. 

CHAPTER XVI

THE ALTERNATIVE

Tisdale did not follow the lieutenant aft. When the _Aquila_ turned intoPort Orchard, he still remained looking off her bows. The sun had set, asoft breeze was in his face, and the Sound was no longer a mirror; itfluted, broke in racy waves; the cutwater struck from them an intricatemelody. Northward a few thin streamers of cloud warmed like paintedflames, and their reflection changed the sea to running fire. Then he wasconscious that some one approached behind him; she stopped at his elbow towatch the brilliant scene. And instantly the spirit of combat in himstirred; his muscles tightened like those of a man on guard. 

After a moment she commenced to sing very softly, in unison with the musicof the waves along the keel, "How dear to me the hour when daylight dies. "

Even subdued, her voice was beautiful. It began surely, insistently, toundermine all that stout breastwork he had reared against her thesetwenty-four hours. But he thrust his hands in his pockets and turned toher with that upward look of probing, upbraiding eyes. 

The song died. A flush rose over her face, but she met the look bravely. "I came to explain, " she said. "I thought at the beginning, when westarted on that drive through the mountains, you knew my identity. Afterwards I tried repeatedly to tell you, but when I saw how bitterlyyou--hated--me, my courage failed. "

Her lip trembled over a sighing breath, and she looked, away up thebrilliant sea. Tisdale could not doubt her. His mind raced back toincident on incident of that journey; in flashes it was all made clear tohim. Even during that supreme hour of the electrical storm had she nottried to undeceive him? He forgave her her transgressions against him; heforgave her so completely that, at the recollection of the one moment inthe basin, his pulses sang. Then, inside his pockets, his hands clenched, and he scourged himself for the lapse. 

"I was in desperate need, " she went on quickly. "There was a debt--a debtof honor--I wished to pay. And Mr. Foster told me you were interested inthat desert land; that you were going to look it over. He caught me bylong distance telephone the night he sailed for Alaska, to let me know. Oh, it all sounds sordid, but if you have ever come to the ragged edge ofthings--"

She stopped, with a little outward, deprecating movement of her hands, andturned again to meet Tisdale's look. But he was still silent. "I believedwhen you knew me, " she went on, "you would see I am not the kind of womanyou imagined; I even hoped, for David's sake, you would forgive me. But Idid not know there was such friendship as yours in the world. I thoughtonly mothers loved so, --the great ones, the Hagars, the Marys. It is morethan that; it is the best and deepest of every kind of love in one. Ican't fathom it--unless--men sometimes are born with twin souls. "

It was not the influence of her personality now; it was not any magnetism. Something far down in the depths of him responded to that something inher. It was as though he felt the white soul of her rising transcendentover her body. It spoke in her pose, her eloquent face, and it filled thebrief silence with an insistent, almost vibrant appeal. 

"They are, " he answered, and the emotion in his own face played softlythrough his voice, "I am sure that they are. Weatherbee had other friends, plenty of them, scattered from the Yukon territory to Nome; men who wouldhave been glad to go out of their way to serve him, if they had known; buthe never asked anything of them; he saved the right to call on me. Neitherof us ever came as near that 'ragged edge of things' as he did, toppled onit as he did, for so long. There never was a braver fight, against greaterodds, single-handed, yet I failed him. " He paused while his eyes againsought that high gorge of the Olympic Mountains, then added: "The most Ican do now is to see that his work is carried on. "

"You mean, " she said not quite steadily, "you are going to buy that land?"

"I mean"--he frowned a little--"I am going to renew my offer to financethe project for you. You owe it to David Weatherbee even more than I do. Go back to that pocket; set his desert blossoming. It's your onlysalvation. "

She groped for the bulwark behind her and moved back to its support. "Icould not. I could not. I should go mad in that terrible place. "

"Listen, madam. " He said this very gently, but his voice carried itsvibrant undernote as though down beneath the surface a waiting reserveforce stirred. "I did not tell all about that orchard of spruce twigs. Itwas planted along a bench, the miniature of the one we climbed in theWenatchee Mountains, that was crossed with tiny, frozen, irrigating canalsleading from a basin; and midway stood a house. You must have known thattrick he had of carving small things with his pocket-knife. Then imaginethat delicately modeled house of snow. It was the nucleus of the whole, and before the door, fine as a cameo and holding a bundle in her arms, wasset the image of a woman. "

There was a silent moment. She waited, leaning a little forward, watchingTisdale's face, while a sort of incredulous surprise rose through thedespair in her eyes. "There were women at Fairbanks and Seward after thefirst year, " he went on. "Bright, refined women who would have counted ita privilege to share things, his hardest luck, with David Weatherbee. Butthe best of them in his eyes was nothing more than a shadow. There wasjust one woman in the world for him. That image stood for you. The wholeproject revolved around you. It would be incomplete now without you. "

She shrank closer against the bulwark, glancing about her with the swiftlook of a creature trapped, then for a moment dropped her face in herhands. When she tried to say something, the words would not come. Herlips, her whole face quivered, but she could only shake her head inprotest again and again. 

Tisdale waited, watching her with his upward look from under contractedbrows. "What else can you do?" he asked at last. "Your tract is too smallto be handled by a syndicate, and now that the levels of the Columbiadesert are to be brought under a big irrigation project, which means anominal expense to the grower, your high pocket, unimproved, will hardlyattract the single buyer. Will you, then, plat it in five-acre tracts forthe Seattle market and invite the--interest of your friends?"

She drew erect; the danger signals flamed briefly in her eyes. "My friendscan be dis-interested, Mr. Tisdale. It has only been through them, for along time, I have been able to keep my hold. "

"There's where you made your mistake at the start; in gaining that hold. When you conformed to their standards, your own were overthrown. "

"That is not true. " She did not raise her voice any; it dropped rather toa minor note? but a tremor ran over her body, and her face for an instantbetrayed how deep the shaft had struck. "And, always, when I have accepteda favor, I have given full measure in exchange. But there is analternative you seem to have overlooked. "

"I understand, " he said slowly, and his color rose. "You may marry again. "Then he asked, without protest: "Is it Foster?"

On occasion, during that long drive through the mountains, he had felt thevarying height and thickness of an invisible barrier, but never, untilthat moment, its chill. Then Marcia Feversham called her, and she turnedto go down the deck. "I'm coming!" she answered and stopped to look back. "You need not trouble about Mr. Foster, " she said. "He--is safe. "

CHAPTER XVII

"ALL THESE THINGS WILL I GIVE THEE"

Frederic had suggested a rubber at auction bridge. 

Elizabeth fixed another pillow under his shoulders and moved the cardtable to his satisfaction, then took a chair near the players and unfoldedher crochet, while Tisdale, whose injured hand excluded him from the game, seated himself beside her. He asked whimsically if she was manufacturing acloud like the one in the west where the sun had set; but she lacked hersister's ready repartee, and, arresting her needle long enough to glanceat him and back to the woolly, peach-pink pile in her lap, answeredseriously: "It's going to be a hug-me-tight. "

The lieutenant laughed. "Sounds interesting, does it not?" he said, shuffling the cards. "But calm yourself, sir; a hug-me-tight is merely akind of sweater built on the lines of a vest. "

He dealt, and Mrs. Feversham bid a lily. From his position Tisdale wasable to watch Mrs. Weatherbee's face and her cards. She held herself erectin a subdued excitement as the game progressed; the pink flush deepenedand went and came in her cheek; the blue lights danced in her eyes. Repeatedly she flashed intelligence to her partner across the board. Andthe lieutenant began to wait in critical moments for the glance. They wonthe first hand. Then it became apparent that he and Morganstein werebetting on the side, and Marcia remonstrated. "It isn't that we arescrupulous alone, " she said, "but we lose inspiration playing secondfiddle. "

"Come in then, " suggested Frederic and explained to the lieutenant: "Shecan put up a hundred dollars and lose 'em like a soldier. "

"The money stayed in the family, " she said quickly. "Beatriz, it is yourbid. "

Mrs. Weatherbee was calculating the possibilities of her hand. Her suitwas diamonds; seven in sequence from the jack. She held also the threehighest in clubs and the other black king. She was weak in hearts. "I bidtwo diamonds, " she said slowly, "and, Marcia, it's my ruby against yourcheck for three hundred dollars. "

There was a flutter of surprise. "No, " remonstrated Elizabeth sharply. "No, Marcia can buy the ring for what it is worth. "

"Then I should lose the chance to keep it. Three hundred will be enough tolose. " And she added, less confidently: "But if you should win, Marcia, itis understood you will not let the ring go out of your hands. "

"I bear witness, " cried the lieutenant gallantly, "and we are proud toplay second when a Studevaris leads. "

But Morganstein stared at her in open admiration. "You thoroughbred!" hesaid. 

"It shall stay in the family, " confirmed Marcia. 

Then Frederic bid two lilies, the lieutenant passed and Mrs. Fevershamraised to three hearts. She wavered, and Tisdale saw the cards tremble inher hand. "Four diamonds, " she said at last. The men passed, and Marciadoubled. Then Morganstein led a lily, and the lieutenant spread his handon the table. There were six clubs; in diamonds a single trey. 

But Mrs. Weatherbee was radiant. She moved a little and glanced back atElizabeth, inviting her to look at her hand. She might as well have said:"You see, I have only to lead out trumps and establish clubs. "

Marcia played a diamond on her partner's second lead of spades, and ledthe ace of hearts, following with the king; the fourth round Frederictrumped over Mrs. Weatherbee and led another lily. Mrs. Feversham used hersecond diamond and, returning with a heart, saw her partner trump againover Mrs. Weatherbee. It was miserable. They gathered in the book beforethe lead fell to her. The next deal the cards deserted her, and after thatthe lieutenant blundered. But even though the ruby was inevitably lost, she finished the rubber pluckily; the flush deepened in her cheek; theblue fires flamed in her eyes. "You thoroughbred!" Morganstein repeatedthickly. "You thoroughbred!"

To Tisdale it was unendurable. He rose and crossed to the farther side ofthe desk. The _Aquila_, rounding the northern end of Bainbridge Island, had come into Agate Pass; the tide ran swift in rips and eddies betweenclose wooded shores, but these things no longer caught his attention. Thescene he saw was the one he had put behind him, and in the calcium lightof his mind, one figure stood out clearly from the rest. Had he not knownthis woman was a spendthrift? Had he not suspected she inherited this vicefrom her father, that old gambler of the stock exchange. Was it not forthis reason he had determined to hold that last half interest in theAurora mine? Still, still, she had not shown the skill of long practice;she had not played with ordinary caution. And had not Elizabethremonstrated, as though her loss was inevitable? Every one had beenundeniably surprised. Why, then, had she done this? She had told him shewas in "desperate need. " Could this have been the alternative to which shehad referred?

The _Aquila's_ whistle blew, and she came around, close under a bluff, into a small cove, on the rim of which rose the new villa. The groupbehind Tisdale began to push back chairs. He turned. The game was over, and Mrs. Feversham stood moving her hand slowly to catch the changinglights of the ring on her finger. Then she looked at the loser. "It seemslike robbery, " she exclaimed, "to take this old family talisman from you, Beatriz. I shall make out a check to ease my conscience. "

"Oh, no. " She lifted her head bravely like his Alaska flower in the bitterwind. "I shall not accept it. My grandfather believed in the rubydevoutly, " she went on evenly. "It was his birthstone. And since it isyours too, Marcia, it should bring you better fortune than it has broughtme. But see! The villa roof is finished and stained moss-green as itshould be, against that background of firs. And isn't the big verandadelightful, with those Venetian blinds?"

The yacht nosed alongside the little stone quay, and preceded by the host, who was carried ashore in his chair, not without difficulty, by relays ofhis crew, the party made the landing. 

Tisdale's first impression when he stepped over the threshold of the villawas of magnitude. A great fireplace built of granite blocks faced thehospitable entrance, and the interior lifted to the beamed roof, with agallery midway, on which opened the upper rooms. The stairs rose easily intwo landings, and the curving balustrade formed a recess in which wasconstructed a stage. Near this a pipe organ was being installed. It wasall luxurious, created for entertainment and pleasure, but it lacked theostentatious element for which he was prepared. 

It had been understood that the visit was made at this time to allow Mrs. Feversham an opportunity to go through the house. She was to decide oncertain furnishings which she was to purchase in New York, but it wasevident to Tisdale that the items she listed followed the suggestions ofthe woman who stood beside her, weighing with subdued enthusiasm thepossibilities of the room. "Imagine a splendid polar-bear rug here, " shesaid, "with a yellowish lynx at the foot of the stairs, and one of thosefine Kodiak skins in front of the hearth. A couch there in the chimneycorner, with a Navajo blanket and pillows would be color enough. "

Morganstein, watching her from his invalid chair, grasped the idea withsatisfaction. "Cut out those Wilton carpets, Marcia, " he said. "I'll writethat Alaska hunter, Thompson, who heads the big-game parties, to send mehalf a dozen bears. They mount 'em all right in Seattle. Now see what weare going to need in that east suite up-stairs. "

They went trooping up the staircase, but Hollis did not hurry to follow. His glance moved to the heavy, recumbent figure of his host. He waslooking up across the banisters at Mrs. Weatherbee as she ascended, andsomething in his sensuous face, the steady gleam of his round black eyes, started in Tisdale's mind a sudden suspicion. She stopped to look downfrom the gallery railing and smiled with a gay little salute. ThenElizabeth called, and she disappeared through an open door. 

"I'd give fifty dollars to see her face when she gets to that east room, "Morganstein said abruptly. "But go up, Mr. Tisdale; go up. Needn't botherto stay with me. "

"There's a good deal to see here, " Tisdale responded genially. "A man whois accustomed to spend his time as I do, gathering accurate detail, isslower than others, I suppose, and this all seems very fine to me. "

"It's got to be fine, --the finest bungalow on Puget Sound, I keep tellingthe architect. Nothing short of that will do. Listen!" he added in asmothered voice, "she's in there now. "

The vaulted roof carried the echoes down to Tisdale as he went up thestairs. All the doors were open along the gallery; some were not yet hung, but he walked directly to the last one from which the exclamations ofsurprise had come. And, as he went, he heard Mrs. Weatherbee say: "It wasglorious, like this, the day the idea flashed to my mind; but I did notdream Mr. Morganstein would alter the casement, for the men were hangingthe French windows. Why, it must have been necessary to change the wholewall. Still, it was worth it, Marcia, was it not?"

"It certainly is unique, " admitted Mrs. Feversham. Then Tisdale stopped onthe threshold, facing a great window of plate glass in a single pane, designed to frame the incomparable view of Mount Rainier lifting above thesea. And it was no longer a phantom mountain; the haze had vanished, andthe great peak loomed near, sharply defined, shining in Alpine splendor. 

It was a fine conceit, too fine to have sprung from Morganstein'smaterialistic brain, and Tisdale was not slow to grasp the truth. Thefinancier had reconstructed the wall to carry out Mrs. Weatherbee'ssuggestion. Then it came over him that this whole building, feature byfeature, had been created to win, to ensnare this woman. It was as thoughthe wall had become a scroll on which was written: "'All these things willI give thee, if thou wilt fall down'--and marry me. "

Suddenly the place oppressed him. He walked through the room to thesmaller one of the suite and out on a broad sleeping-porch. The casementwas nearly waist high, and he stood grasping the ledge and looking withunseeing eyes into a grove of firs. So this was the alternative. And thiswas why Foster was safe. The young mining engineer, with little besideshis pay, had fallen far short of her price. 

But the salt wind was in his face; it quieted him. He began to notice themany small intruding influences of approaching night. The bough of aresinous hemlock, soughing gently, touched his arm, and his hold on theshingles relaxed. He moved, to rest the injured hand on the casing, andits throbbing eased. His glance singled out clumps of changing maple ordogwood that flamed like small fires on the slope. Then he caught therhythm of the tide, breaking far down along the rocky bulkhead; and above, where a footbridge spanned a chasm, a cascade rippled in harmony. 

"Nice, isn't it?" said the lieutenant, who came onto the porch withElizabeth. 

"That is a pergola they are building down there, " she explained. "It's tobe covered with Virginia creeper and wistaria and all sorts of climbingthings. And French doors open into it from the dining-room. A walk windsup from the end--you see it, Mr. Tisdale?--across the footbridge to apavilion on the point. It is almost too dark to see the roof among thetrees. Mrs. Weatherbee calls it the observatory, because we have such along sweep of the Sound from there, north and south. You'd think you wereaboard a ship at sea, lieutenant, in stormy weather. It gets every windthat blows. "

The lieutenant wished to go to the pavilion, but Tisdale excused himselffrom joining them, and was left alone again with his thoughts. Then he wasconscious the other women had remained in the apartment. They had comeinto the inner room, and Mrs. Feversham, having found an electric button, flooded the interior with light. On the balcony a blue bulb glowed. Tisdale turned a little more and, leaning on the casement, waited for themto come through the open door. 

"What do you say to furnishing this suite in bird's-eye maple?" askedMarcia. "With rugs and portieres in old blue. "

Mrs. Weatherbee shaded her dazzled eyes with her hand and lookedcritically around. "The maple would be lovely, " she said, "but--do youknow, " and she turned to her companion with an engaging smile, "thesesunrise rooms seem meant for Alaska cedar? And the rugs should be not oldblue, but a soft, mossy blue-green. "

Mrs. Feversham laughed. "Home industry again! We don't go to New York forAlaska cedar. But you are right; that pale yellow wood would be simplycharming with these primrose walls, and it takes a wonderful polish. Thatleaves me only the rugs and hangings. " She turned to go back through thewide doorway, then stopped to say: "After all, Beatriz, why not see whatis to be had in Seattle? I had rather you selected everything for thissuite, since it is to be yours. "

"Mine?" She paused, steadying her voice, then went on with a swiftbreathlessness. "But I see, you mean to use when I visit you andElizabeth. These rooms, from the first, have been my choice. But I amafraid I've been officious. I've been carried away by all this beautifularchitecture and the pleasure of imagining harmonious, expensivefurnishings. I never have fitted a complete house; it's years since I hada home. Then, too, you've spoiled me by listening to my suggestions. You've made me believe it was one way I could--well--cancel obligations. "

Mrs. Feversham raised her hand and, turning it slowly, watched the play oflight on the ruby. "There isn't a stone like this in America, " she said. "You don't know how I've coveted it. But you need not have worried, Beatriz. I disposed of your note to Frederic. "

"To Mr. Morganstein?" Her voice broke a little; she rocked unsteadily onher feet. It was as though a great wind had taken her unawares. Then, "Ishall try to pay him as soon as possible, " she said evenly. "I have theland at Hesperides Vale, you know, and if I do not sell it soon, perhapshe will take it for the debt. "

Mrs. Feversham dropped her hand. "Beatriz! Beatriz!" she exclaimed. "Youknow there's an easier way. Come, it's time to stop this make-believe. Youknow Frederic Morganstein would gladly pay your debts, every one. You knowhe is building this villa for you; that he would marry you, now, to-day, if you would say the word. Yet you hold him at arm's-length; you are soconservative, so scrupulous about Public Opinion. But no one in Seattlewould breathe a suggestion of blame. And it isn't as though you had wornfirst mourning. The wedding could be very quiet, with a long honeymoon toJapan or Mexico; both, if you wished. And you might come home to open thishouse with a reception late in May. The twilights are delightful then. Come, think, Bee! You've been irreproachable; the most exacting wouldadmit that. And every one knows David Weatherbee practically deserted youfor years. "

Tisdale saw her mouth tremble. The quiver ran over her face, her wholebody. For an instant her lashes fell, then she lifted them and met MarciaFeversham's calculating look. "It was not desertion, " she said. "Hecontributed--his best--to my support. I took all he had to give. If everyou are where people are--talking--do me the favor to correct thatmistake. And, now, if you please, Marcia, we will not bring DavidWeatherbee in any more. "

Mrs. Feversham laughed a little. "I am willing, bygones are bygones, onlylisten to Frederic. "

"You are mistaken, too, about Mr. Morganstein's motive, Marcia. He builtthis house for all his friends and Elizabeth's. He owes her something; shehas always been so devoted to him. " And she added, as she turned to goback to the gallery, "He knows I do not care to marry again. "

Tisdale had not foreseen the personal drift to the conversation. And ithad not occurred to him he was unobserved; the balcony light was directlyover him, and he had waited, expecting they would come through to theporch, to speak to them. Now he saw that from where they had stopped inthe brilliant interior, his figure must have blended into the backgroundof hemlock boughs. If they had given him any thought, they had believed hehad gone down with Elizabeth and the lieutenant. To have apologized, madehimself known, after he grasped the significance of the situation, wouldonly have resulted in embarrassment to them all. He allowed them time toreach the floor below. But the heat rose in his face. And suddenly, as hismind ran back over that interview in the bows of the _Aquila_, hisquestion in regard to Foster seemed gross. Still, still, she had said shedid "not care to marry again. " That one fact radiated subconsciouslythrough the puzzling thoughts that baffled him. 

Behind him a few splendid chords rolled through the hall to the vaultedroof, then pealed forth the overture from Martha. That had beenWeatherbee's favorite opera. Sometimes on long Arctic nights, when theywere recalling old times and old songs, he himself had taken Plunkett'spart to David's Lionel. He could see that cabin now, the door set wide, while their voices stormed the white silence under the near Yukon stars. His eyes gathered their absent expression. It was as though he lookedbeyond the park, far and away into other vast solitudes; saw once more thecliffs of Nanatuk looming through fog and heard clearly, booming acrossthe ice, the great, familiar baritone. 

The notes of the organ ceased. Tisdale stirred like a man roused fromsleep. He turned and started through to the gallery. A woman's voice, without accompaniment, was singing Martha's immortal aria, _The Last Roseof Summer_. It was beautiful. The strains, sweet and rich, flooded thehall and pervaded the upper rooms. Looking down from the railing, he sawElizabeth and the lieutenant at the entrance below. The men who hadinstalled the organ, were listening too, at the end of the hall, whilebeyond the open door the crew of the _Aquila_ waited to carry the masteraboard. As he reached the top of the stairs, Mrs. Feversham appeared, seated near the invalid in the center of the hall, and finally, as he cameto the first landing, there was the diva herself, acknowledging theapplause, sweeping backward with charming exaggeration from the front ofthe stage. 

"Bravo!" shouted Frederic. "Bravo! Encore!" She took the vacant seat atthe organ, and the great notes of the _Good-night_ chorus rolled to therafters. Responding to her nodding invitation, the voices of the audiencejoined her own. It was inspiring. Tisdale stopped on the landing andinvoluntarily he caught up his old part. 

 "Tho' no prayer of mine can move thee Yet I wish thee sweet good night; Now good night, good night, good night!"

She looked up in quick surprise; her hands stumbled a little on the keysand, singing on, she subdued her voice to listen to his. Then, hesitatinga little over the first chords, she began the final prelude, and Tisdale, waiting, heard her voice waver and float out soft and full:

"Ah, will Heaven indeed forgive me. "

Her face was still lifted to him. It was as though her soul rose in directappeal to him, and in that moment all his great heart went down to her inresponse. 

It was over. Morganstein's heavy "Bravo!" broke the silence, followed bythe enthusiastic clapping of hands, Mrs. Weatherbee rose and started downthe hall to join Elizabeth and the lieutenant, but Marcia detained her. "It was simply grand, " she said. "I hadn't believed you had the reach orthe strength of touch. This organ was certainly a fine innovation. "

"Sure, " said Frederic hazily. "It will make old Seattle sit up and takenotice. Great idea; your schemes always are. Confess though, I had mydoubts, when it came to this organ. I hedged and had that other jog builtin over there for a piano. We can use it sometimes when we want to rag. "

"It is a splendid instrument; much more expensive than I thought of, I amafraid. But, " and she looked back at the elaborate array of pipes with theexhilaration showing in her face, "it's like giving the firs and the sea anew voice. "

She passed on, and Frederic's glance followed her, puzzled, but with ablended respect and admiration. When she went out with Elizabeth and thelieutenant, he called his men to convey him to the yacht. Marcia walkedbeside him. Night had fallen, and the _Aquila_ blazed like a fire ship. Her lamps sifted the shadows and threw long, wavering flames on the tide. Aft, where the table was spread, for the convenience of the host, whocould not hazard the companionway, a string of electric lights illuminedthe deck. Japanese screens, a dropped awning or two, tempered the breeze, and the array of silver and flowers, and long-stemmed glasses, promisedmore than the informal little dinner to which Mrs. Feversham had referred. 

She stood looking the table critically over, while the sailors settled theinvalid's chair. While the rest of the party loitered in the bow, sheturned to brother. "Has it occurred to you, " she asked, "that Beatriz maybe interested in some other man?"

"No, " answered Frederic, startled. "No. Hadn't thought of that--unless--it's Foster. "

"I don't know; he seems the most possible, if there's any one. She saysshe does not care to marry again. In any case, it is advisable to keep himin Alaska. You might send him on from the Iditarod to look over the Auroramine. " And she added slowly: "Beatriz Weatherbee, backed by theMorganstein money, will be able to carry the social end of the familyanywhere; but Beatriz Weatherbee, holding a half interest in one of thebest-paying placers in Alaska in her own right--is a wife worth straininga point for. "

Frederic's round eyes widened; his face took an expression of childlikegoodness; it was the mask with which he habitually covered his avarice. Then he said: "I understood Hollis Tisdale had exclusive, brass-bound, double-rivited possession of the Aurora. "

"Hush, " cautioned Marcia, "they are coming. " And she added, in a stilllower tone: "There is a loose rivet, but contrive to marry her before sheknows. "

That dinner covered the homeward cruise, and from the wharf Tisdale wentdirectly to his rooms. There he telephoned the Rainier-Grand hotel. "Giveme John Banks, please, " he said. "Yes, I mean Lucky Banks of Alaska. " And, after an interval, "Hello, Banks! This is Tisdale talking. I want you tocome up to my rooms. Yes, to-night. I am starting east in the morning. Thank you. Good-by. "

He put up the receiver and brought Weatherbee's box from the safe to thetable under the hanging lamp. Seating himself, he took out the plan of theproject and spread it before him. He had not closed the lid, and presentlyhis eyes fell on David's watch. He lifted it and, hesitating to open it, sat trying to recall that picture in the lower case. He wondered how, oncehaving seen it, even in firelight and starshine, he could have forgottenit. The face would be younger of course, hardly more than a promise of theone he knew; still there would be the upward curling lashes, thesuggestion of a fault in the nose, the piquant curve of the short, upperlip, and perhaps that pervading, illusive something that was the secret ofher charm. "You were right, David, old man, " he said at last, "it was aface to fight for, wait for. And madam, madam, a woman with a face likeyours must have had some capacity for loving. "

His hand was on the spring, but he did not press it. A noise outside inthe corridor arrested him. He knew it was too soon for Banks to arrive, but he laid the watch back in the box and closed the lid. "You will nevermarry Frederic Morganstein, " he said, and rising, began to walk the floor. "It would be monstrous. You must not. You will not. I shall not let you. "

CHAPTER XVIII

THE OPTION

Vivian count stood on the first hill. The brick walls of the businesscenter filled the levels below, and Mrs. Weatherbee's windows, likeTisdale's, commanded the inner harbor rimmed by Duwamish Head, with abroader sweep of the Sound beyond framed in wooded islands and thesnow-peaks of the Olympic Peninsula. Southeastward, from her alcove, liftedthe matchless, solitary crest of Rainier. It was the morning following thecruise on the _Aquila_, and Mrs. Weatherbee was taking a light breakfastin her room. The small table, placed near an open casement, allowed her toenjoy both views. She inhaled the salt breeze with the gentle pleasure ofa woman whose sense has been trained, through generations, to fine anddelicate perfumes; her eyes caught the sapphire sparkle of the sea, andher face had the freshness and warmth of a very young girl's. The elbowlength of the sleeve exposed a forearm beautifully molded, with thevelvety firmness of a child's; and the wistaria shade of her empire gownintensified the blue tones in the dark masses of her hair. In short, shestood for all that is refined, bright, charming in womanhood; and not forany single type, but a blending of the best in several; the "typicalAmerican beauty" that Miles Feversham had named her. 

Her glance moved slowly among the shipping. The great steamship leavingthe Great Northern docks was the splendid liner _Minnesota_, sailing forJapan; the outbound freighter, laden to the gunwales and carrying adeckload of lumber, was destined for Prince William Sound. She representedMorganstein interests. And when her eyes moved farther, in the directionof the Yacht Club, there again was the _Aquila_, the largest speck in themoored fleet. A shadow crossed her face. She rose and, turning from thewindows, stood taking an inventory that began with the piano, a Steinwaymellowed by age, and ended at a quaint desk placed against the oppositewall. It was very old; it had been brought in her great-grandfather's timefrom Spain, and the carving, Moorish in design, had often roused theenthusiastic comment of her friends. Appraising it, her brows ruffled alittle; the short upper lip met the lower in a line of resolve. She wentto her telephone and found in the directory the number of a dealer incurios. But as she reached for the receiver, she was interrupted by aknock and, closing the book hastily, put it down to open the door. 

A bell-boy stood holding a rare scarlet azalea in full flower. In itsjardiniere of Satsuma ware it was all his arms could compass, and a secondboy followed with the costly Japanese stand that accompanied it. There wasno need to read the name on the card tied conspicuously among the stiffleaves. The gift was from Frederic Morganstein. It had arrived, doubtless, on an Oriental steamer that had docked the previous evening while the_Aquila_ made her landing. Mrs. Weatherbee had the plant placed where thesunshine reached it through the window of the alcove, and it made a gayshowing against the subdued gray of the walls. Involuntarily her glancemoved from it to the harbor, seeking the _Minnesota_, now under fullheadway off Magnolia Bluff. It was as though, in that moment, herimagination out-traveled the powerful liner, and she saw before her thatalluring country set on the farther rim of the Pacific. 

The steamship passed from sight; she turned from the window. The boy hadtaken away the breakfast tray and had left a box on the table. It wasmodest, violet-colored, with Hollywood Gardens stamped on the cover, butshe hurried with an incredulous expectancy to open it. For an instant theperfume seemed to envelop her, then she lifted the green waxed paper, anda soft radiance shone in her face. It was only a corsage bouquet, but theviolets, arranged with a few fronds of maidenhair, were delightfullyfresh. She took them out carefully. For a moment she held them to hercheek. But she did not fasten them on her gown; instead she filled acut-glass bowl with water and set them at the open casement in the shade. A cloud of city smoke, driving low, obscured the _Aquila_; the freighterbound for Prince William Sound rounded Magnolia Bluff, but clearly she hadforgotten these interests; she stood looking the other way, through thesoutheast window, where Rainier rose in solitary splendor. A subduedexhilaration possessed her. Did she not in imagination travel back overthe Cascades to that road to Wenatchee, where, rising to the divide, theyhad come unexpectedly on that far view of the one mountain? Then herglance fell again to the violets, and she lifted the bowl, leaning hercheek, her forehead, to feel the touch of the cool petals and inhale theirfragrance. 

She had not looked for Tisdale's card, but presently, in disposing of theflorist's box, she found it tucked in the folds of waxed paper. He hadwritten across it, not very legibly, with his left hand, "I want to beg your pardon for that mistake I made. I know you never willput any man in David Weatherbee's place. You are going to think too muchof him. When you are ready to make his project your life work, let meknow. "

She was a long time reading the note, going back to the beginning morethan once to reconsider his meaning. And her exhilaration died; theweariness that made her suddenly older settled over her face. At last shetore the card slowly in pieces and dropped it in the box. 

Her telephone rang, and she went over and took down the receiver. "Mrs. Weatherbee, " she said, and after a moment. "Yes. Please send him up. "

The bell-boy had left the door ajar, and she heard the elevator when itstopped at her floor; a quick, nervous step sounded along the corridor, the door swung wider to some draught, and a short, wiry man, with aweather-beaten face, paused on the threshold. "I am Lucky Banks, " he saidsimply, taking off his hat. "Mr. Tisdale asked me to see you got thisbundle. "

Involuntarily her glance rested on the hand that held the package in thecurve of his arm, and she suppressed a shiver; the dread that the youngand physically perfect always betray at the sight of deformity sprang toher eyes. "Thank you for troubling, " she said, then, having taken thebundle, she waited to close the door. 

But Banks was in no hurry. "It wasn't any trouble, my, no, " he replied. "Iwas glad of the chance. It's a little bunch of stuff that was Dave's. Andlikely I'd have come up, anyhow, " he added, "to inquire about a tract ofland you own east of the mountains. I heard you talked of selling. "

Instantly her face brightened. "Yes. But come in, will you not?" Sheturned and placed the package on the table, and took one of two chairsnear the alcove. The azalea was so near that its vivid flowers seemed tocast a reflection on her cheeks. "I presume you mean my tract in theWenatchee Mountains?" she went on engagingly. "A few miles aboveHesperides Vale. "

"Well, yes. " Banks seated himself on the edge of the other chair and heldhis hat so as to conceal the maimed hand. "I didn't know you had but onepiece. It's up among the benches and takes in a kind of pocket. It's offthe line of irrigation, but if the springs turn out what I expect, itought to be worth sixty dollars an acre. And I want an option on the wholetract for ten thousand. "

"Ten thousand dollars?" Her voice fluted incredulously. "But I am afraid Idon't understand exactly what an option is. Please explain, Mr. Banks. "

"Why, it's this way. I pay something down, say about three thousand, andyou agree to let the sale rest for well, say six months, while I prospectthe ground and see how it is likely to pan out. Afterwards, if I fail tobuy, I naturally forfeit the bonus and all improvements. "

"I see, " she said slowly. "I see. But--you know it is wild land; you havebeen over the ground?"

"Not exactly, but I know the country, and I've talked with a man I canbank on, my, yes. "

"How soon"--she began, then, covering her eagerness, said: "I agree toyour option, Mr. Banks. "

He laid his hat on the floor and took out his billbook, in which he foundtwo printed blanks, filled according to his terms and ready for hersignature. "I thought likely we could close the deal right up, ma'am, so'sI could catch the Wenatchee train this afternoon. Your name goes hereabove mine. "

She took the paper and started buoyantly to the secretary, but the littleman stopped her. "Read it over, read it over, " he cautioned. "All square, isn't it? And sign this duplicate, too. That's right. You're quite abusiness woman. "

He laughed his high, mirthless laugh, and, taking a check from thebill-book, added some bright gold pieces which he stacked on the tablecarefully beside the package he had brought. "There's your threethousand, " he said. 

"It's out of a little bunch of dust I just turned in at the assay office. "

"Thank you. " She stood waiting while he folded his duplicate and put itaway, but he did not rise to go, and after a moment, she went back to herchair by the scarlet azalea. 

"They are doing really wonderful things in the Wenatchee Valley, " she saidgraciously, willing to make conversation in consideration of that littlepile of clean, new coin that had come so opportunely, "the apples aremarvelous. But"--and here her conscience spoke--"you understand this tractis unreclaimed desert land; you must do everything. "

"Yes, ma'am, I understand that; but what interests me most in that pocketis that it belonged to David Weatherbee. He mapped out a project of hisown long before anybody dreamed of Hesperides Vale. He told me all aboutit; showed me the plans. That piece of ground got to be the garden spot ofthe whole earth to him; and I can't stand back and see it parcelled out tostrangers. "

He paused. The color deepened a little in her face; she looked awaythrough the west window. "I thought an awful lot of Dave, " he went on. "I'd ought to. Likely you don't know it--he wasn't the kind to talk muchabout himself--but I owe my life to him. _It_ had commenced"--he held upthe crippled hand and smiled grimly--"when Dave found me curled up underthe snow, but he stayed, in the teeth of a blizzard, to see me through. And afterwards he lost time, weeks when hours counted, taking care of me, --operated when it came to it, like a regular doctor, my, yes. And when Igot to crawling around again, I found he'd made me his partner. "

"He had made a discovery, " she asked, "while you were ill?"

"Yes, and you could bank on Dave it was a good one. He knew the gravelevery time. But we had to sell; it was the men who bought us out thatstruck it rich. You see, Dave had heavy bills pressing him down here inthe States; he never said just what he owed, but he had to have the money. And, my, when he was doing the bulk of the work, I couldn't say much. Itwas so the next time and the next. We never could keep a claim long enoughfor the real clean-up. So, when I learned to use my hand, I cut loose totry it alone. "

He halted again, but she waited in silence with her face turned to theharbor. "I drifted into the Iditarod country, " he went on, "and was amongthe first to make a strike. It was the luckiest move I ever made, but Iwish now I had stayed by Dave. I was only a few hundred miles away, but Inever thought of his needing me. That was the trouble. He was alwaysputting some other man on his feet, cheering the rest along, but not oneof us ever thought of offering help to Dave Weatherbee. A fine, independent fellow like him. 

"But I sure missed him, " he said. "Many a time there in the Iditarod Iused to get to wishing we had that voice of his to take the edge off ofthings. Why, back on the Tanana I've seen it keep a whole camp heartened;and after he picked me up in that blizzard, when I was most done for andcouldn't sleep, it seemed like his singing about kept me alive. Sometimesstill nights I can hear those tunes yet. He knew a lot of 'em, but therewas _Carry Me Back to Old Virginny_, and _Heart Bowed Down_, and _You'llRemember Me_. I always thought that song reminded him of some girl downhere in the States. He never told me so, always put me off if I said aword, and none of us knew he was married then; but when he got to singingthat tune, somehow he seemed to forget us boys and the camp andeverything, and went trailing off after his voice, looking for somebodyclear out of sight. I know now, since I've seen you, I was likely right. "

Still she was silent. But she moved a little and lifted her hand to theedge of the Satsuma jardiničre; her fingers closed on it in a tighteninggrip; she held her head high, but the lashes drooped over her eyes. Watching her, the miner's seamed face worked. After a moment he said: "Theother night I paid seven dollars for a seat at the Metropolitan just tohear one of those first-class singers try that song. The scenery was allright. There were the boys and two or three women sitting around acamp-fire. And the fiddles got the tune fine, but my, my! I couldn'tunderstand a word. Seemed like that fellow was talking darn Dago. "

At this she lifted her eyes. The shadow of a smile touched her mouth, though her lashes were wet. "And he was, Mr. Banks, " she said brightly. "He was. I know, because I was there. "

Banks picked up his hat and rose to his feet. "We were all mighty proud ofDave, " he said. "There wasn't one of us wouldn't have done his level bestto reach him that last stampede; but I'm glad the chance came to HollisTisdale. There wasn't another man in Alaska could have done what he did. Yes, I'm mighty glad it was Tisdale who--found him. " He paused, holdinghis hat over the crippled hand, then added: "I suppose you never knew whatit means to be cold. "

She rose. The smile had left her lips, and she stood looking into hiswithered face with wide eyes. "I mean so cold you don't care what happens. So cold you can lie down in your tracks, in a sixty-mile-an-hour blizzardand go to sleep. "

"No. " She shivered, and her voice was almost a whisper. "I am afraid not. "

"Then you can't begin to imagine what Tisdale did. You can't see himfighting his way through mountains, mushing ahead on the winter trail, breaking road for his worn-out huskies, alone day after day, with justpoor Dave strapped to the sled. "

She put her hands to her ears. "Please, please don't say any more, " shebegged. "I know--all--about it. "

"Even about the wolves?"

She dropped her hands, bracing herself a little on the table, and turnedher face, looking, with that manner of one helplessly trapped, around theroom. 

"Even about the wolves?" he persisted. 

"No. No, " she admitted at last. 

He nodded. "I thought likely not. Hollis never told that. It goes againsthis grain to be made much of. He and Dave was cut out of the same block. But last night in the lobby to the hotel, I happened on a fellow that methim in the pass above Seward. There were four of 'em mushing through tosome mines beyond the Susitna. It was snowing like blazes when they heardthose wolves, and pretty soon Tisdale's dogs came streaking by through thesmother. Then a gun fired. It kept up, with just time enough between shotsto load, until they came up to him. He had stopped where a kind of smallcave was scooped in the mountainside and put the sled in and turned thehuskies loose. He had had the time, too, to make a fire in front of thehole, but when the boys got there, his wood was about burned out, and thewolves had got Dave's old husky, Jack. He had done his best to help holdoff the pack. There's no telling how many Hollis killed; you see the restfell on 'em soon's they dropped. It was hell. Nothing but hair and bloodand bones churned into the snow far as you could see. Excuse me, ma'am; Iguess it sounds a little rough. I'm more used to talking to men, my, yes. But the fellow who told me said Hollis knew well enough what was coming atthe start, when he heard the first cry of the pack. He had a chance tomake a roadhouse below the pass. Not one man in a thousand would havestayed by that sled. "

His withered face worked again. He moved to the door. "But Dave would havedone it. " His voice took a higher pitch. "Yes, ma'am, Dave would have donethe same for Hollis Tisdale. They was a team; my, yes. " He laughed hishard, mirthless laugh. "Well, so long, " he said. 

She did not answer. Half-way down the corridor Banks looked back throughthe open door. She had not moved from the place where he had left her, though her face was turned to the window. A little farther on, while hewaited for the elevator, he saw she had taken the package he had broughtfrom Tisdale. She stood weighing it, undecided, in her hands, then drewout the table drawer and laid it in. She paused another instant inuncertainty and, closing the drawer, began to gather up the pieces ofgold. 

CHAPTER XIX

LUCKY BANKS AND THE PINK CHIFFON

On his way down from Vivian Court, the mining man's attention was caughtby the great corner show window at Sedgewick-Wilson's, and instantly outof the display of handsome evening gowns his eyes singled a dancing frockof pink chiffon. "She always looked pretty, " he told himself, "but whenshe wore pink--my!" and he turned and found his way through the swingingdoors. A little later the elevator had left him at the second floor. For amoment the mirrors bewildered him; they gave a sense of vastness, repeating the elegant apartment in every direction, and whichever way heglanced there was himself, seated on the edge of a chair, his square shoesset primly on the thick green carpet, his hat held stiffly over thecrippled hand. Then an imposing young woman sauntered towards him. "Well, "she said severely, "what can I show you?"

Banks drew himself a little stiffer. "A dress, " he said abruptly in hishighest key, "ready-made and pink. "

"What size?"

"Why"--the little man paused, and a blush that was nearer a shadow crossedhis weather-worn face--"let me see. She's five feet seven and a quarter, in her shoes, and I judge a couple of inches wider through the shouldersthan you. " His glance moved to another saleswoman, who came a step nearerand stood listening, frankly amused. "You look more her figure, " he added. 

"Takes a thirty-eight. " The first saleswoman brought out a simple gown ofpink veiling and laid it on the rack before Banks, and he leaned forwardand took a fold between his thumb and forefinger, gravely feeling thetexture. 

"This is priced at twenty-five dollars, " she said. "How does that suit?"

Banks drew himself erect. "There's one down-stairs in the front window Ilike better, " he said. 

The woman looked him shrewdly over. He had put his hat down, and herglance rested involuntarily on his maimed hand. "That pink chiffon is ahundred and twenty-five, " she explained. 

"I can stand it; the price doesn't cut any figure, if it's what I want. "He paused, nodding a little aggressively and tapping the carpet with onesquare foot. "The lady it's for is a mighty good judge of cloth, and Iwant you to show me the best you've got. "

She glanced at the other saleswoman, but she had turned her back--hershoulders shook--and she hurried to bring out a duplicate of the pinkchiffon, which she arranged carefully on the rack. Bank's face softened;he reached to touch it with a sort of caress. "This is more like it, " hesaid; then, turning to the second girl, "but I can tell better if you'llput it on. You don't seem very busy, " he added quickly, "and I'll pay youyour time. "

"Why, that's all right, " she answered and came to pick up the gown. "I'llbe glad to; that's what I'm here for. "

She disappeared, laughing, into a dressing-room, and presently the firstsaleswoman excused herself to wait on new customers. The girl came backtransformed. She had a handsome brunette face, with merry dark eyes and agreat deal of black hair arranged in an elaborate end striking coiffure. "Isn't it swell?" she asked, walking leisurely before him. "But you'llhave to fasten it for her; it hooks in the back. " Then she stopped; thefun went out of her face; her glance had fallen to his crippled hand. "I'mawfully sorry, " she stammered. "Of course she can manage it herself; weall have to sometimes. "

But the little man was rapt in the gown. "I'll take it!" he saidtremulously. "It suits you great, but, my! She'll be a sight. "

"I'll bet she's pretty, " said the girl, still trying to make amends. "I'dlike to see her in this chiffon. And I guess your party will be swell. "

Banks looked troubled. "It isn't a party; not exactly. You see she's beenaway from town quite a spell, and I thought likely she'd be a little shorton clothes. I guess while I'm about it I may as well take along everythingthat naturally goes with this dress; shoes and socks and a hat and--flannels--"

He paused in uncertainty, for the girl had suddenly turned her back again. "I'd like to leave the rest to you, " he added. "Pick out the best; thewhole outfit straight through. "

"I'll be glad to. " The girl turned again, controlling a last dimple. "Youare the thoughtfullest man I ever saw on this floor. She's in luck; but Iguess you aren't married--yet. "

Banks laughed his high, strained laugh and rose. "No, " he answeredbriskly, "no, not exactly. But I want you to hurry out this bill of goodsin time for the four-ten Great Northern. I can't go without it, and I'mcounting on making Wenatchee to-night. "

"Wenatchee?" exclaimed the girl. "Is that where you expect her to wearthis chiffon? Why, it's the dustiest place under the sun. Take my word forit; I came from there. And, see here, they don't give big parties there;the people are just nice and friendly; it's a small town. If I were youI'd choose a tan; a veiling gown, like this first one we showed you, onlytan. Then you could put the difference in price into a coat;--we have somesmart ones in tan, --with a light pongee duster to slip over it all, ifshe's driving or using a machine. "

Banks nodded. "Sure, tuck them all in; but this pink dress goes, too, andsee it's on top. Likely they'll go best in a trunk. Now, if you will giveme the bill--"

He paused to take out his poke, but the girl laughed. "I can't, " she said. "It will take me half an hour to foot it all up after I've picked out thethings. And unless you give me a limit, I won't know where to stop. Thenthere's the hat. I never would dare to choose that for a woman I've neverseen, unless she's my style. "

"She is, " the little man answered gravely, "that's why I picked you outwhen I first come in. I guess maybe the other one was nice all right, butshe was a little too dried-up and froze to do. "

"Then I know what I'd like to send; it's a hat I tried on this morning. Anice taupe--that's about the color of that sage-brush country over thereand won't show the dust--and it's trimmed with just one stunning plume thesame shade and a wreath of the tiniest pink French roses set under thevelvet brim. It looked like it was made for me, but twelve and a half ismy limit and it's twenty-five dollars. Maybe you don't want to go thathigh. "

Banks untied the poke and poured the remaining gold pieces on theshow-case; then he found a pocket-book from which he took several crispbills. "There's three hundred, " he said briefly, "and another ten for thetrunk. I want you to pick out a nice little one I can stow in the back ofa one-seated automobile. The hat and this pink dress go on top; and besure you get the outfit down to that four-ten train. Good-by, " he put outhis hand, and a gleam of warmth touched his bleak face. "I'm glad I metyou. "

"And so am I. Good-by. " She stopped gathering up the money long enough togive him her hand. "And good luck, " she added. 

The first saleswoman, again at leisure, approached and stood looking afterhim as he hurried with his quick, uneven steps towards the elevator. "Ofall things!" she exclaimed. "He did buy that pink chiffon. Who'd ever havethought he had the money or the taste. But I suppose he's one of thoselucky fellows who've struck it rich in Alaska. "

The other young woman nodded. "His gold came out of one of those pokes, and it's fresh from the mint. But I guess he's earned all he's got, everycent. I'll bet he's starved and froze; suffered ways we don't know. Andhe's spending it on a girl. I'd like to see her. Maybe she's thecold-blooded kind that'll snub him and make fun of this chiffon. "

She turned into the dressing-room, and it was then Banks stopped andbrought out the loose change in his pockets. There was a ten dollar piece, to which he added two and a half in silver. He started back up the room, but the girl had disappeared, and, while he stood hesitating, afloor-walker approached. 

"Have you forgotten something?" he asked politely. 

"Yes, " answered Banks, "I forgot to give this money to the young lady whowas waiting on me. She's likely gone to take off a pink dress I bought. But she's the one with lots of black hair and pink cheeks and a real nicesmile; you couldn't miss her. And you might as well give her this; tellher it's the other twelve and a half to make up the price of that hat; aduplicate of the one we were talking about. She'll understand. "

He called these final words over his shoulder, for the elevator hadstopped, and he hurried to catch it. Going down, he looked at his watch;he had spent an hour buying that dress. But on the lower floor he noticeda telephone booth and saw a way to make up the time. 

"Hello!" he called, pitching his voice to a treble. "This is Banks, theminer you was trying to talk into buying that little red car last week;roadster I think you said 'twas. Well, I want you to fire up and run downto the Rainier-Grand quick as you can. "

He listened a moment, then: "Yes, likely I'll change my mind, if I getso's I can drive her all right by three p. M. I'm going east of themountains, and if I buy I've got to ship her on the four-ten train--Yes, Imean the little one with a seat to accommodate two, with a place to carrya trunk behind. Now get busy and rush her down. I've got some errands todo, and I want you to hurry me around; then we'll get away from the crowdout on the boulevard where I can have a clear track to break her on. "

The sale was made, and the mining man must have applied himselfsuccessfully to his lesson, for the following morning, when the red carspun out of Wenatchee and up the lifting valley road, a snug steamer-trunkwas stowed in the box behind, and Banks at the steering gear was travelingalone. To be sure the rising curves were made in sudden spurts and jerks, but his lack of skill was reinforced by a tireless vigilance gatheredthrough breaking days of driving and mushing over hazardous trails. And hehad made an early start; few wayfarers were yet astir. But at last, highup where the track doubled the summit of a slope that lifted in a bluffoverhead, and on the other hand dropped precipitously to the river, thelittle man barely averted catastrophe. The driver and the vehicle werehidden by the curve, but at his warning honk, two percherons that blockedthe way halted and, lunging at his repeated note, crowded back on the teamthey led. Then a woman's voice shrilled: "I've got the heaviest load; yougive me right of way. "

Banks sprang out and ran forward past the horses. The driver, dressed in askirt and blouse of khaki, was seated on a load of lumber. She held thereins high in yellow-gauntleted hands, and a rope of loosened red hairhung below a smart campaign hat. "I can't back, " she exclaimedaggressively. "You got to give me right of way. "

"Ain't there a man with the outfit?" he asked uncertainly. 

"No, " she snapped. "Do I look like I need one?" But she hurried ontremulously: "My husband's running the mill night and day, and Bryant, down the valley, had to have his boxes for the apple crop. He said sendthe boards down, and he'd let a couple of his Japs knock 'em together. SoI thought with an early start and a clear track, I could drive. But you'vegot to turn out. I've got the heavy load. "

Banks shook his head. 

"It's my first trip, " he said dubiously, "and I ain't learned to back heronly enough to turn 'round; and it's too narrow. But I used to drivepretty good seven or eight years ago; and I've been managing a dog teamoff and on ever since. Let me climb up there and back your load. "

"You can't do it, " she cried. "It's up-grade and a mean curve, and thatnigh leader, for a first-class draught horse, has the cussedestdisposition you ever saw. You can't back him short of a gunshot under hisnose, and you got to get that buzz-wagon of yours out of sight before Ican get him past. "

"Then, " said Banks, and smiled grimly, "I guess it's up to me to back. " Hestarted to return to the machine but paused to add over his shoulder:"It's all right; don't you be scared. No matter what happens, you forgetit and drive straight ahead. "

But destiny, who had scourged and thwarted the little man so many years, was in a humorous mood that day. The little red car backed down from thebend in zigzag spurts, grazing the bluff, sheering off to coast theriver-ward brink; then, in the final instant, when the machine failed torespond to the lever speedily enough, a spur of rock jutting beyond theroadway eased the outer wheel. It rolled up, all but over, while the nexttire met the obstruction and caught. Banks laughed. "Hooray!" he piped. "Now swing the corner, lady! All circle to the left. "

"Get up!" the driver shrilled. "Get up, now, Duke, you imp!" And theleader, balking suspiciously at the explosive machine, felt a smart touchof the whip. He plunged, sidled against the bluff and broke by. There wasbarely room to make that turn; the tailboard of the wagon, grating, left along blemish on the bright body of the car, but as the load rolled on downthe incline, Banks churned gayly up around the bend. 

In less than an hour Hesperides Vale stretched behind him, and the boldfront of Cerberus lifted holding the gap. Tisdale had warned him of thebarbed-wire fence, and while he cautiously rounded the mountain, his oldmisgiving rose. What though he had made good; what though the Iditarod hadfilled his poke many times over, the north had taken heavy toll. He hadleft his youth up there, and what would this smart little automobile countagainst a whole right hand? And this trunkful of clothes--what would itweigh against a good-sized man? Still, still, though she might have takenher pick of 'em all, Annabel had never married, and she had kept hisgoats. Then he remembered Tisdale had said that she too had had a hardfight, and the years must have changed her. And hadn't she herself toldhim, in that letter he carried in his breast pocket, that if he cared tocome and see the goats, he would find his investment was turning out fine, but he needn't expect she had kept her own good looks?

The little man smiled with returning confidence and, lifting his glance, saw the cabin and the browsing flock cut off by the barbed-wire fence fromthe road. Then as he brought the car to a stop, the collie flew barkingagainst the wicket, and a gaunt woman rose from a rock and stood shadingher eyes from the morning sun. 

He sprang down and spoke to the dog, and instantly his tone quieted thecollie, but the woman came nearer to point at the sign. "You better readthat, " she threatened. 

His hand dropped from the wicket, and he stood staring at her across thebarbed wire. "I was looking for a lady, " he said slowly, "but I guesslikely I've made a mistake. "

She came another step and, again shading her eyes, stared back. A lookhalf eager, half wistful, trembled for a moment through the forbiddingtenseness of her face. "All the men I've seen in automobiles up here werelooking for land, " she replied defiantly. 

He nodded; his eyes did not move from her face, but they shone like twochippings of blue glacier ice, and his voice when he spoke piped itssharpest key. "So am I. I've got an option on a pocket somewheres in thisrange, and the lady I'm inquiring for happened to homestead the quarterbelow. It sort of overlaps, so's she put her improvements on the wrongedge. Yes, ma'am, I've likely made a mistake, but, you see, I heard shehad a bunch o' goats. "

There was a brief silence then. "Anyhow, you must o' come from thatsurveyor, " she said. "Maybe he was just a smooth talker, but he had a niceface; laughing crinkles around his eyes and a way of looking at you, ifyou'd done a mean thing, to make you feel like the scum of the earth. Buthe happened to be acquainted with the man that made me a present of myfirst billy and ewes, and you--favor him a little. " She paused, then wenton unsteadily, while her eyes continued to search him. "He was about yoursize, but he's been up in Alaska, way in the interior somewheres foryears, and the letter I wrote him couldn't have reached him inside amonth. I figured if he came out, he would just about catch the laststeamer in October. "

"So he would, if he hadn't come down to Seattle already. " He stopped, fumbling with the pin, and threw open the wicket. "I guess I ain't changedmuch more'n you, Annabel. "

The woman was silent. Her chin dropped; her glance sought the earth. ThenBanks turned to fasten the gate behind him, and she started to stalkmechanically up the field towards the cabin. "I feel all broke up, " hesaid, overtaking her; "like I'd been struck by a blizzard. Why, there wasa girl down in Seattle, she sold me a bill of goods that looked more likeyou than you do yourself. I know I got myself to blame, but I nevercounted for a minute on your keeping the goats. "

The woman stalked on a little faster, but she could not outstrip theprospector; she turned her face, in refuge, to the flock. "Goats, " shesaid unsteadily, "goats--are all right when you get used to 'em. They'resomething like children, I guess; a sight of trouble but good company andmighty comforting to have 'round. And they're just as different. There'sold Dad, the cautious looking one standing off there watching us andchewing the end of a thistle. It might as well be a toothpick, and I'llbet he's thinking: 'You can't get the best of me, no, sir. ' And that pieceof wisdom next to him is the Professor. Don't he remind you of the oldschoolmaster down at the Corners? And there goes Johnny Banks. See him?The pert little fellow chasing up the field. You never can tell wherehe'll turn up or what he'll do next. "

She laughed a dry, forced laugh, and Banks echoed it in his strained key. "But we are going to get rid of 'em. They're a fine bunch--you've brought'em up splendid, made a sight better showing than I could--but we aregoing to get rid of 'em, yes, ma'am, and forget 'em as quick's we can. Weare going to start right now to make up those seven years. "

They had reached the cabin, and he stopped on the threshold. "My, my, " hesaid softly, "don't it look homey? There's your Dad's old chair, and thedresser and the melodion. I was 'fraid you'd sold that, Annabel. "

"I could have, there's been plenty of chances, but Dad gave it to me, don't you remember? the Christmas I was sixteen. "

"My, yes, and you opened it right there, under the cherry tree, andstarted _Home, Sweet Home_. I can hear it now, and the crowd joining in. I'm glad you kept it, Annabel; a new one wouldn't seem just the same. "

"It's traveled though. You ought to have seen me moving from Oregon. Theold delivery wagon was heaping full. " Her laugh this time was spontaneous. "And old Kate couldn't make more than ten miles a day. But I had a goodtent, and when she had done her day's stunt, I just tied her out to feedand made camp. The hardest was keeping track of the goats, but the flockwas small then, and I had two dogs. "

"I see, " said Banks. "You kept 'em ahead of the wagon when you was on theroad and let 'em forage for themselves. But I'd like to have a look at oldKate. She came of good stock. "

Annabel went over and, seating herself in her father's chair, untied hersunbonnet. "Kate died, " she said. "I hired her out to a man down thevalley, and he worked her too hard in the heat. "

There was a silent moment. She took off the bonnet and laid it in her lap. The light, streaming through a small window, touched her hair, which wasbound in smooth, thick braids around her head. 

"My, my, " the little man said, "ain't it a sight? I'd have known you in aminute without that bonnet down at the gate. My, but don't it make adifference what a woman wears? I'll bet I can't tell you from the girl Ileft in Oregon when you've changed your clothes. "

She shook her head. "This denim is all I've got, " she said, with a touchof defiance. "I wore out all I had; goats are hard on clothes. "

"I thought likely. " His bleak face began to glow. "And I knew you was outof town away from the stores, so's I brought along a little outfit. Youwait a minute, and I'll fetch it right in. "

He was gone before he finished speaking and returned in an incrediblyshort time with the trunk, which he deposited on the floor before her. Then he felt in his pocket and, finding the key, fitted it and lifted thelid. It was then, for the first time, she noticed the maimed hand. 

"Johnny!" she cried, and the pent emotion surged in her voice. "Johnny, you've been--hurt. "

"Oh, that don't amount to anything now, only the looks. I can turn outjust as much work. "

He hurried to open the tray, but before he could remove the packing oftissue paper that enveloped the hat, she reached and took the crippledhand between her own. Her fingers fluttered, caressing, while withmaternal protectiveness they covered it, and she drew him back to thebroad arm of her chair. The defiance had gone out of her face; her eyeswere misty and tender. "You tell me what happened, " she said. 

So came Lucky Banks' hour. He saw this woman who had been fond of prettyclothes, who had once worn them but was now reduced to a single frock ofcoarse denim, turn from the fine outfit before it was even displayed;waiting, with a wondrously comforting solicitude he never had suspected inthe girl whom he had left in Oregon, to hear first that miserable story ofthe trail. He told it briefly, but with the vividness of one whose wordsare coined straight from the crucible of bitter experience, and while shelistened, her heart shone in her passionate eyes. "What if it hadhappened, " she broke out at last. "If it had, Johnny, it would have beenmy fault. I drove you into going up there. I'm responsible for this hand. I--I couldn't have stood worse than that. "

The little man beamed. "Is that so, Annabel? Then I'm mighty gladWeatherbee followed that stampede. Nobody else would have seen my handsticking up through the snow and stopped to dig me out. Unless--" he addedthoughtfully, "it was Hollis Tisdale. Yes, likely Hollis would. He was theonly man in Alaska fit to be Dave's running mate. "

"Do you mean that surveyor?" she asked. 

Banks nodded. 

"I thought so, " she said with satisfaction. "Dad taught me to size peopleup on sight. He could tell the first minute he saw a man's face whether hewas good for a bill of groceries or not; and I knew that surveyor wasstraight. I bet he knew you was in Seattle when he got me to write. But Iwish I could have a look at the other one. He must be--great. "

Banks nodded again. "He was, " he answered huskily. "He was. But he's madehis last trip. I wasn't three hundred miles off, but I never thought ofDave Weatherbee's needing help; it took Tisdale, clear off in Nome, over athousand miles, to sense something was wrong. But he started to mush it, alone with his huskies, to the Iditarod and on to the Aurora, Dave's mine. You don't know anything about that winter trail, Annabel. It means fromtwenty to fifty below, with the wind swooping out of every canyon, cross-cutting like knives, and not the sign of a road-house in days, inweeks sometimes. But he made it, "--Banks' voice reached high pitch--"Hebeat the records, my, yes. "

"And something was wrong?" asked Annabel, breaking the pause. 

Banks nodded again. "You remember that sheepman down in Oregon theybrought in from the range. The one that ripped up his comforter that nightat the hotel and set the wool in little rolls around the floor; thought hewas tending sheep? Well, that's what was happening. And Hollis was twodays late. Dave had started for the coast; not the regular way toFairbanks and out by stage to Valdez, but a new route through the AlaskaRange to strike the Susitna and on to Seward. And he had fresh dogs. Hewas through Rainy Pass when Tisdale began to catch up. "

"He did catch up?" Annabel questioned again hurriedly. 

Banks nodded once more. He drew his hand away and rose from his seat onthe chair arm. His eyes were shining like blue glacier ice. "It was in ablizzard; the same as the day I lost my fingers--only--Hollis--he was toolate. " He turned and walked unsteadily to the door and stood looking out. "I wasn't three hundred miles from the Aurora, " he added. "I could havebeen in time. I can't ever forget that. "

Annabel rose and stood watching him, with the emotion playing in her face. "Johnny!" she exclaimed at last. "Oh, Johnny!" She went over and put herarm protectively around his shoulders. "I know just how you feel; but youdidn't drive him to it. You were just busy and interested in your work. You'd have gone in a minute, left everything, if you had known. "

"That's it; I ought to have known. I ought to have kept track of Dave; runover once in a while to say hullo. I'd have likely seen it was coming on, then, in time. When Tisdale found him, he'd been setting out little piecesof spruce, like an orchard in the snow. You see, " he added after a moment, "Dave always expected to come back here when he struck it rich and start afruit ranch. He was the man who owned this pocket. "

A sudden understanding shone in Annabel's face. "And that's why you got anoption on it; you want to carry out his scheme. I'll help you, Johnny, I'll do my level best. "

Banks turned and looked at her. "That's all I want, Annabel. I was alittle afraid you'd be sick of the place. But, my, we can go right aheadand set a crew of men to grubbing out the sage on both sections to once. Folks might have said, seeing you take up with a undersized, froze-upfellow like me, you was marrying me for my money; but they can't, no, ma'am, not when they see the valuable claim you are developing in your ownright. "

Annabel laughed. "I guess you're entitled to your turn making fun of me. But have you got money, Johnny? I never thought of that. "

"Likely not. But the Annabel sure brought me luck; that name worked betterthan a rabbit's foot. Here's a little bunch of nuggets I saved out of thefirst clean-up. " He paused to take a small new poke from an inner pocketand, untying the string, poured the contents in her hand. "I thoughtlikely you'd want 'em made up in a necklace with a few diamonds or mebbeemeralds mixed in. "

She stood looking at the shining rough pieces of gold in her palm, while acertain pride rose through the wonder in her face. "My gracious!" sheexclaimed, and a spark of her lost youth revived. "My gracious. And younamed your mine after me. I bet it was on account of that billy and theewes. "

"Likely, " the little man beamed. "But more than likely it was because thatstrike was a sure thing, and you was behind it, Annabel. My, yes, you wasresponsible I ever got to Alaska; let alone stuck it out. Sure as agrubstake, you gave me my start. Now come take a look at this outfit Ibrought. "

He held the poke open while she poured the nuggets back. "I like themplain, " she said, "but I never saw any made up. I leave it to you. "

"Then I make it emeralds to match the Green, and mebbe a few sparklersthrown in. " He laughed gayly and, taking her arm, drew her back across theroom to the open trunk; when she was seated again in the armchair, heknelt to remove the first layer of tissue packing. She took the precautionto spread one smooth sheet of it on her lap and, leaning forward, saw himuncover the plume, the entire hat. "Gracious goodness!" she exclaimedtremulously, as he lifted it awkwardly to her eager hands, "ain't itsplendid? I didn't know they were making them like this. I never saw suchroses; why, they look alive and ready to smell; and ain't they prettyfixed this way under the brim?" She paused, turning the masterpieceslowly, like a connoisseur. "I bet I could have worn it when I was inOregon. It would have been my style. Do you suppose"--she glanced at Bankstimidly--"I'd dare to try it if my hair was done real nice, and I had on abetter dress?"

"My, yes. " Banks laughed again excitedly, and with growing confidenceopened the next compartment to display the chiffon gown. "Wait till youget this on. You'll be a sight. You always was in pink. " He paused to takethe hat and, wheeling, placed it on the old dresser, and so made room forthe frock on her lap. "Now, ain't that soft and peachy and--and rich?"

But Annabel was silent. She lifted her eyes from the gown to Johnny, andthey were full of mist. Then her lip quivered, and a drop splashed down onthe delicate fabric. "My gracious!" she cried in consternation and, rising, held the gown off at arm's-length. "Do you suppose it's going tospot?"

And Banks' laugh piped once more. "I guess it can stand a little saltwater, " he replied. "But if it can't, we can get a duplicate. And now youjust take your time and pick out what you want to wear. I am going up thebench to look around and find Dave's springs. It'll likely take me an houror so, and you can be ready to start soon's I get back. "

"Start?" she repeated. "Was you counting on going somewhere?"

"My, yes. I was counting on taking you a little spin down to Wenatchee thefirst thing, and having a chicken dinner to the hotel. Then, soon's we geta license and hunt up a sky man, we are going to run down to Oregon andhave a look at the old Corners. "

"I never rode in an automobile, " she said, glowing, "but I think I'd likeit fine. "

"I bet you will. I bet, coming home, you'll be running the machineyourself half the time. "

He hurried away then, laughing his shrillest key, and Annabel laid thepink chiffon back in the tray to follow him to the door. She stoodsmiling, though the mist alternately gathered and cleared in her eyes, watching him up the vale and waiting to see him reappear on the front ofthe bench. But he found her ready when he returned; and the hat wasbecoming beyond her hopes. It brought back in a measure the old brightnessthat was half a challenge in her air, so that, to the mining man, sheseemed to have gone back, almost, those lost years. Still, hissatisfaction was tempered, and instantly she understood the cause. "Theroses seemed enough pink today, " she said tactfully, "till I wear off someof this tan. But I like this tan cloth awful well, don't you? It's a nicecolor for out-of-doors and won't show the dust. And doesn't it fitperfectly splendid? And look at these shoes. I don't see how youremembered my size. You've thought of everything. There's even anautomobile veil. A lady that came out here with Mr. Tisdale had one aboutthe same shade. But you'll have to help me put it on so I won't spoil thisplume. "

She pushed the pongee coat, which was carefully folded across the back ofa chair, a little aside and, seating herself before the mirror, reached totake the scarf and exposed a folded paper on the dresser. "I found thatenvelope pinned inside the hat, " she said still diplomatically, though atouch of humor shaded her lips. "There's a ten dollar piece in it and twoand a half in silver. Probably it's your change. "

But Banks turned the envelope and read pencilled across the front: "Thereisn't any duplicate, but thanks just the same. "

CHAPTER XX

KERNEL AND PEACH

After that little wedding journey down in Oregon, Banks returned toSeattle to engage a crew for the first step to reclamation; combiningpleasure with business, he brought Annabel and registered at the NewWashington Hotel. And here Daniels, detailed to learn something in regardto the Iditarod strike where, it was rumored, the Morgansteins werenegotiating for the miner's valuable holdings, finally traced him. 

"Sure we have a Banks of Alaska with us, " the clerk responded, smiling, and turned the page to show the _Press_ representative the strained, left-handed signature. "He's a sawed-off specimen with a face like apeachstone; but he said if he put down his regular name, the boys likelywould miss his trail. "

"Mrs. Annabel Green Banks Hesperides Vale, " read Jimmie. 

"Lucky Banks Iditarod and Hesperides Vale. 

"This looks like my man, sure; but who is Mrs. Green-Banks? His wife ormother?"

"Bride, " the clerk replied laconically. "It's a sort of overdue honeymoon. But she's rather smart looking; fine eyes and tall enough to make up forhim. They're a pair. "

"I see. Kernel and peach. But Hesperides Vale, " Daniels went onthoughtfully. "Why, that's in the new fruit belt over near Wenatchee, myold stamping-ground. "

The clerk nodded. "She owns some orchard lands over there and to hear himtalk, you'd think she had the money; Until it comes to ordering; then theQueen of Sheba isn't in it. 'I guess we can stand the best room in thehouse, ' he says. And when I showed them the blue suite and told themTarquina, the prima donna opening at the Metropolitan to-night, had thecompanion suite in rose, it's: 'Do you think you can put up with thisblue, Annabel?' But there comes the cameo now. No, the other way, from thestreet. "

Jimmie met the prospector midway across the lobby. "Mr. Banks?" he begangenially. "I am the lucky one this time; I came in purposely to see you. Iam Daniels, representing the _Seattle Press_. My paper is particular aboutthe Alaska news, and I came straight to headquarters to find out about theIditarod camp. "

Banks kept on to the desk, and Jimmie turned to walk with him. The clerkwas ready with his key. "Mrs. Banks hasn't come in yet, " he said, smiling. 

"She's likely been kept up at Sedgewick-Wilson's. I introduced her to afriend of mine there. I had to chase around to find a contractor thatcould ship his own scrapers and shovels across the range, and I thoughtthe time would go quicker, for her, picking out clothes. But, " he added, turning to the reporter, "we may as well sit down and wait for her here inthe lobby. "

"I understand, " began Daniels, opening his notebook on the arm of hischair, "that your placer in the Iditarod country has panned out a clearone hundred thousand dollars. "

"Ninety-five thousand, two hundred and twenty-six, " corrected the miningman, "with the last clean-up to hear from. "

Jimmie set these figures down, then asked: "Is the rumor true that theMorgansteins are considering an offer from you?"

"No, sir, " piped the little man. "They made me an offer. I gave 'em anoption on my bunch of claims for a hundred and fifty thousand. Theirengineer has gone in to look the property over. If they buy, they'lllikely send a dredger through by spring and work a big bunch of men. "

There was a silent moment while Jimmie recorded these facts, then: "And Iunderstand you are interested in fruit lands east of the mountains, " hesaid. "It often happens that way. Men make their pile up there in thefrozen north and come back here to Washington to invest it. "

"Likely, " replied Banks shortly. "Likely. But it's my wife that owns theproperty in the fruit belt. And it's a mighty promising layout; it's up tome to stay with it till she gets her improvements in. Afterwards--now Iwant you to get this in correct. Last time things got mixed; the youngfellow wrote me down Bangs. And I've read things in the newspaper latelyabout Hollis Tisdale that I know for a fact ain't so. "

"Hollis Tisdale?" Jimmie suspended his pencil. "So you know the Sphynx ofthe Yukon, do you?"

"That's it. That's the name that blame newspaper called him. Sphynxnothing. Hollis Tisdale is the best known man in Alaska and the bestliked. If the Government had had the sense to put him at the head of theAlaska business, there'd been something doing, my, yes. "

The reporter finished his period. "Don't let this interview bother you, "he said. "It's going into my paper straight, Mr. Banks, and in your ownwords. "

While he spoke, his vigilant glance rested lightly on one of the severalguests scattered about the lobby. He was a grave and thoughtful man andhad seemed deeply engrossed in a magazine, but he had changed his seat fora chair within speaking distance, and Jimmie had not seen him turn a page. 

"What I was going to say, then, " resumed Banks, "was that afterwards, whenthe orchards are in shape, I am going back to Alaska and take a bunch ofthose abandoned claims, where the miners have quit turning up the earth, and just seed 'em to oats and blue stem. Either would do mighty well. Thesun shines hot long summer days, and the ground keeps moist from themelting snow on the mountains. I've seen little patches of grain up thereand hay ripening and standing high as my shoulder. But what they need mostin the interior is stock farms, horses and beeves, and I am going to takein a fine bunch of both; they'll do fine; winter right along with thecaribou and reindeer. "

"Well, that's a new idea to me, " exclaimed Daniels. "Alaska to me hasalways stood for blizzards, snow, glaciers, impregnable mountains, bleakand barren plains like the steppes of Russia, and privation, privation ofthe worst kind. "

Banks nodded grimly. "That's because the first of us got caught by winterunprepared. Why, men freeze to death every blizzard right here in theStates; sometimes it's in Dakota; sometimes old New York, with railroadslacing back and forth close as shoestrings. And imagine that big, unsettled Alaska interior without a single railroad and only onewagon-road; men most of the time breaking their own trails. Not a town ora house sometimes in hundreds of miles to shelter 'em, if a storm happensto break. But you talk with any Swede miner from up there. He'll tell youthey could make a new Sweden out of Alaska. Let us use the timber forbuilding and fuel; let a man that's got the money to do it start alumber-mill or mine the coal. Give us the same land and mineral laws youhave here in the States, and homeseekers would flock in thick as birds inspringtime. "

The stranger closed his magazine. "Pardon me, " he said, taking advantageof the pause, "but do you mean that Conservation is all that is keepinghome-seekers out of Alaska?"

Banks nodded this time with a kind of fierceness; his eyes scintillated awhite heat, but he suppressed the imminent explosion and began with forcedmildness, "My, yes. But you imagine a man trying to locate withninety-five per cent. Of the country reserved. First you've got toconsider the Coast Range. The great wall of China's nothing but a line ofninepins to the Chugach and St. Elias wall. The Almighty builds strong, and he set that wall to hold the Pacific Ocean back. Imagine peaks piledmiles high and cemented together with glaciers; the Malispina alone haseighty miles of water front; and there's the Nanatuk, Columbia, Muir; butthe Government ain't found names for more'n half of 'em yet, nor a quarterof the mountains. Now imagine a man getting his family over that divide, driving his little bunch of cattle through, packing an outfit to keep 'emgoing the first year or so. Suppose he's even able to take along aportable house; what's he going to do about fuel? Is he going to trek backhundreds of miles to the seaport, like the Government expects, to pack incoal? Australian maybe, or Japan low grade, but more likely it'sPennsylvania sold on the dock for as high as seventeen dollars a ton. Yes, sir, and with Alaska coal, the best kind and enough to supply the UnitedStates for six hundred years, scattered all around, cropping right out ofthe ground. Think of him camped alongside a whole forest of spruce, wherehe can't cut a stick. "

The little man's voice had reached high pitch; he rose and took a short, swift turn across the floor. The stranger was silent; apparently he wasweighing this astonishing information. But Daniels broke the pause. 

"The Government ought to hurry those investigations, " he said. "Foster, the mining engineer, told me never but one coal patent had been allowed inall Alaska, and that's on the coast. He has put thousands into coal landand can't get title or his money back. The company he is interested withhas had to stop development, because, pending investigation, no man canmine coal until his patent is secured. It looks like the country isstrangled in red tape. "

"It is, " cried Banks. "And one President's so busy building a railroad forthe Filipinos, and rushing supplies to the Panama Canal he goes out ofoffice and clear forgets he's left Alaska temporarily tied up; and thenext one has his hands so full fixing the tariff and running down thetrusts he can't look the question up. And if he could, Congress is workingovertime, appropriating the treasury money home in the States. There's somany Government buildings to put up and harbors and rivers to dredge, itcan't even afford to give us a few lights and charts, and ships keep onfeeling their way and going to destruction on the Alaska coast. Alaska isside-tracked. She's been left standing so long she's going to rust. "

"If some of our senators could listen to you, " said the stranger, with aswift and vanishing smile, "their eyes would be opened. But that is thetrouble; Alaska has had no voice. It is true each congressman has been soburdened with the wants of his own State that session after session hasclosed before the Alaska bills were reached. We have been accustomed tolook on Alaska as a bleak and forbidding country, with a floatingpopulation of adventurers and lawless men, who go there with the intentionto stay only long enough to reap a mineral harvest. If she had other greatresources and such citizens as you, why were you not in Washington toexploit her?"

Lucky Banks shook his head. "Up to this year, " he said and smiled grimly, "I couldn't have made the trip without beating my way, and I guess if Iwent to some of those senators now and escaped being put down for anex-convict, they'd say I was engineering a trust. They'd turn another keyon Alaska to keep me out. "

He wheeled to tramp down the lobby, then stopped. Annabel had entered. Annabel arrayed in a new, imported tailored suit of excellent cloth, in ashade of Copenhagen blue, and a chic hat of blue beaver trimmed withparadise. Instantly the mining man's indignation cooled. He put asideAlaska's wrongs and hurried, beaming, to meet his wife. "Why, you boughtblue, " he said with pleased surprise. "And you can wear it, my, yes, aboutas well as pink. "

Annabel smiled with the little ironical curl of the lip that showedplainly her good sense held her steady, on the crest of that high wavewhereon it had been fortune's freak to raise her. "Lucile showed me aplace, on the next floor of the store, where I could get the tan taken offmy face while I was waiting for alterations to my suit. They did it with asort of cold cream and hot water. There's just a streak left around myneck, and I can cover that with the necklace. " She paused then added witha gentle conciliation creeping through her confidential tone: "I am goingto wear the pink chiffon to-night to hear Tarquina. Lucile says it's allright for a box party, opening night. I like her real well. I asked her togo with us, and she's coming early, in time for dinner, at seven. "

"I thought you'd make a team, " replied Banks, delighted. "And I'm glad youasked her, my, yes. It would have been lonesome sitting by ourselves'mongst the empty chairs. "

They were walking towards the elevator, and Daniels, who had learned fromthe clerk that the important looking stranger who had seemed so interestedin Banks' information, was the head of the new coal commission, goingnorth for investigation, stopped the prospector to say good-by. 

"I want to thank you for that interview, Mr. Banks, " he said frankly. "I've learned more about Alaska from you in fifteen minutes than I had puttogether in five years. "

"You are welcome, so's you get it in straight. But, "--and the little mandrew himself proudly erect, --"I want to make you acquainted with Mrs. Banks, Mr. Daniels. "

"I am awfully glad to meet you, Mrs. Banks, " said Jimmie cordially, offering his hand. "I understand you are from Hesperides Vale, and I grewup over there in the Columbia desert. It's almost like seeing friends fromhome. "

"Likely, " Banks began, but his glance moved from the reporter to his wifeand he repeated less certainly, "likely we could get him to take one ofthose chairs off our hands. "

Annabel's humor rose to her eyes. "He's hired a box for Carmen to-night;they were out of seats in the divans, and it worries him because our partyis so small. "

"I'd be delighted, only, "--Jimmie paused, flushing and looking intentlyinside his hat--"the fact is, I am going to take the Society Editor on mypaper. We have miserable seats, the first row in the orchestra was thebest they could do for us, and she has to write up the gowns. She's anawfully nice girl, and she has a little trick of keeping her copy out ofsight, so the people in the house never would catch on; would you think mevery bold, "--and with this he looked up directly at Annabel--"if I askedyou to give that place in your box to her?"

He was graciously assured it would make Mr. Banks "easy" if they bothjoined the party, and Annabel suggested that he bring the Society Editorto dinner, "so as to get acquainted" before the opera. All of which wasspeedily arranged by telephone. Miss Atkins accepted with pleasure. 

The dinner was a complete success; so complete that the orchestra wasconcluding the overture when they arrived at the theater. A little flurryran through the body of the house when Annabel appeared. Mrs. Feversham inthe opposite box raised her lorgnette. 

"I wonder who they are, " she said. "Why, the girl in white looks like MissAtkins, who writes the society news, and there is your reporter, Daniels. "

"Other man is Lucky Banks; stunning woman in pink must be his wife. "Frederic, having settled in his chair and eased his lame knee, focussedhis own glasses. 

"George, Marcia, " he exclaimed, "do you see that necklace? Nuggets, straight from the sluices of the Annabel, I bet. Nuggets strung withemeralds, and each as big as they grow. I suppose that chain is what youcall barbarous, but I rather like it. "

"It is fit for a queen, " admitted Marcia. "One of those barbarian queenswe read about. No ordinary woman could wear it, but it seems made for herthroat. " And she added, dropping her lorgnette to turn her calculatingglance on her brother's face, "Every woman her price. "

Frederic laughed shortly. The purplish flush deepened in his cheeks, andhis eyes rested on Beatriz Weatherbee. She was seated in the front of thebox with Elizabeth, and as she leaned forward a little, stirred by thepassionate cry of the violins, her profile was turned to him. 

"The price doesn't cut as much figure as you think, " he said. 

Then the curtain rose. Tarquina was a marvelous Carmen. The SocietyEditor, who had taken her notebook surreptitiously from a silk evening bagand, under cover of a chiffon scarf, commenced to record the names andgowns of important personages, got no farther than the party in theopposite box during the first act. But she made amends in theintermission. It was then a smile suddenly softened her firm mouth, andshe introduced Annabel to her columns with this item. 

"Noticeable among the out of town guests were Mr. And Mrs. John HenryBanks, who entertained a box party, following a charming dinner at the NewWashington. Mrs. Banks, a recent bride, was handsomely gowned in pinkchiffon over messaline, and wore a unique necklace of nuggets which weregathered from her husband's mine near Iditarod, Alaska. The gold pieceswere linked lengthwise, alternating with single emeralds, and the pendantwas formed of three slender nuggets, each terminating in a matched diamondand emerald. "

While Geraldine wrote this, Frederic Morganstein made his way laboriously, with the aid of a crutch, around to the box. "How do do, Miss Atkins, " hesaid. "Hello, Daniels! Well, Mr. Banks, how are you? Greatest Carmen eversung in this theater, isn't it? Now, keep your seat. I find it easier tostand. Just came for a minute to be presented to--your wife. "

His venture carried. The little man, rising, said with conscious pride:"Mrs. Banks, allow me to make you acquainted with Mr. Morganstein. He'sthe man that holds the option on the Annabel. And this is Miss Purdy, Mr. Morganstein; Miss Lucile Purdy of Sedgewick-Wilson's. I see you know therest of the bunch. "

"I guess it's up to me to apologize, Mrs. Banks, " said Frederic, heavilyhumorous. "I wouldn't believe my sister, Mrs. Feversham, when she told methere were some smart women in those Alaska towns. " He paused, laughing, while his glance moved from Annabel's ironical mouth to her superbshoulders and rested on the nugget chain; then he said: "From thatinterview of yours in tonight's _Press_, Mr. Banks, there isn't much thecountry can't produce. "

"Likely not, " responded the little man quickly. "But my wife was an Oregongirl. We were engaged, my, yes, long before I saw Alaska. And lately she'sbeen living around Hesperides Vale. She's got some fine orchard propertyover there, in her own right. "

"Is that so?" Frederic's speculative look returned to Annabel's face. "Hesperides Vale. That's in the new reclamation country, east of themountains, isn't it? I was intending to motor through that neighborhoodwhen this accident stopped me and put an end to the trip. They are turningout some fine apples in that valley, I understand. But it's curtain time. Awfully glad I've met you; see you again. Lend me your shoulder, will you, Daniels--around to my box?"

While they were crossing the foyer, he said: "That enlargement came outfine; you must run up to my office, while it's there to-morrow, to see it. And that was a great write-up you gave Lucky Banks. It was yours, wasn'tit? Thought so. Bought a hundred copies. Mrs. Feversham is going to take'em east to distribute in Washington. Double blue-pencilled one, 'specially for the President. "

Jimmie smiled, blushing. "That's more than I deserve, but I'm afraid, evenif it reaches his hands, he won't take the time to read it. "

"You leave that to Mrs. Feversham, " replied Morganstein. "Saw that littlescoop, too, about Tisdale. He's the closest oyster on record. "

"The trouble was, " said Jimmie wisely, "he started that Indian story andnobody thought to interrupt with more coal questions. "

"You mean he told that yarn purposely to head us off?"

"That's the way it seemed to me afterwards. He spun it out, you know; itlasted to Bremerton, where I got off. But it was interesting; the best Iever heard, and I took it all down, word for word. It was little use, though. The chief gave one look at my bunch of copy and warned me, for thelast time, the paper wasn't publishing any novels. What I had gone aboardthe _Aquila_ for was to write up her equipment and, incidentally, to pickup Hollis Tisdale's views on Alaska coal. "

They had reached the entrance to the Morganstein box; the orchestra wasplaying again, the curtain began to rise on the second act, and Danielshurried back to his place. But during the next intermission, an usherbrought the young reporter a note. It was written concisely on a businesscard, but Jimmie read it through slowly a second time before he handed itto the Society Editor. 

"Mrs. Feversham wants to see that story, " so it ran. "Leave it at myoffice in the morning. She may take it east with her. Knows some magazinepeople who are going to feature Alaska and the Northwest. "

After a thoughtful moment Miss Atkins returned the card to Jimmie. "Is itthe Indian story?" she asked. 

Daniels nodded, watching her face. His smouldering excitement was ready toflame. "They will read it for Mrs. Feversham, "--Geraldine's voice trembledslightly--"and they will take it. It's a magazine story. They ought to payyou handsomely. It's the best thing you ever wrote. "

Marcia Feversham saw possibilities in that story. Indeed, writing Jimmiefrom Washington, she called it a little masterpiece. There was no doubt itwould be accepted somewhere, though he must expect to see it cut downconsiderably, it was so long. Then, presumably to facilitate the placingof the manuscript, she herself went over it with exceeding care, revisingwith her pencil, eliminating whole paragraphs, and finally fixing the endshort of several pages. In the copy which her husband's stenographerprepared, the original was reduced fully a third. After that it mellowedfor an interval in Marcia's drawer. 

At the close of November, it was announced that Stuart Foster, the juniordefendant in the first "Conspiracy to defraud the Government" trial, wasweather-bound in Alaska. This, taken in consideration with the seriousillness of Tisdale, on whom the prosecution relied for technicaltestimony, resulted in setting the case for hearing the last week in thefollowing March. It was at this time, while Hollis was lying unconsciousand in delirium at a hospital, that his great wealth began to beexploited. Everywhere, when inquiries were made as to his health, fabulousstatements followed about the Aurora. To mention the mine was like saying"Open Sesame!" Then, finally, it was whispered and repeated withconviction by people who "wouldn't have believed it of Hollis Tisdale" atthe beginning, that he had defrauded the widow of his dead partner--whohad made the discovery and paid for it with his life--of her share. 

Then, at last, early in December, Jimmie's masterpiece was forwarded to anew magazine in New York. 

"_Dear Mr. Sampson_;--" so Marcia wrote--

"Here is a story of Western life that I believe will be of interest toyou. The incident actually occurred. The man who killed the Indian child, and who amused my brother's guests with the story while we were cruisinglately on the _Aquila_, was Hollis Tisdale of the Geographical Survey. Heis probably the best known figure in Alaska, the owner of the fabulouslyrich Aurora mine. His partner, who made the discovery, paid for it withhis life, and there is a rumor that his wife, who should have a halfinterest, is penniless. 

"Mr. Tisdale will he a leading witness for the Government in the pendingAlaska coal cases. Strange--is it not?--since a criminal is barred fromtestifying in a United States court. 

"The last issue of your magazine was most attractive. Enclosed are listsof two thousand names and my check to cover that many sample copies of thenumber in which the story is published. March would be opportune. Ofcourse, while I do not object to any use you may care to make of thisinformation, I trust I shall be spared publicity. 

"Very truly, "MARCIA FEVERSHAM. "

CHAPTER XXI

FOSTER'S HOUR

Frederic Morganstein did not wait until spring to open his villa. Thefurnishings were completed, even to the Kodiak and polar-bear rugs, intime to entertain a house-party at Christmas. Marcia, who came home forthe event, arrived early enough to take charge of the final preparations, but the ideas that gave character to the lavish decorations were BeatrizWeatherbee's. She it was who suggested the chime of holly bells withtongues of red berries, hung by ropes of cedar from the vaulted roofdirectly over the stage; and saw the two great scarlet camellias that hadbeen coaxed into full bloom specially for the capitalist placed at eitherend of the footlights, while potted poinsettias and small madrona trees, brought in from the bluffs above the grounds, finished the scheme with theeffect of an old mission garden. Then there were a hundred morepoinsettias disposed of, without crowding, on the landings and inside therailing of the gallery, with five hundred red carnations arranged withOregon grape and fern in Indian baskets to cap the balustrade. To onelooking up from the lower hall, they had the appearance of quaintjardiničre. 

There was not too much color. December, in the Puget Sound country, meansthe climax of the wet season when under the interminable curtain of therain, dawn seems to touch hands with twilight. It was hardly four o'clockthat Christmas eve when the _Aquila_ arrived with the guests from Seattle, but the villa lights were on. A huge and resinous backlog, sending broadtongues of flame into the cavernous throat of the fireplace, gave to theillumination a ruddier, flickering glow. To Foster, who was the first toreach the veranda, Foster who had been so long accustomed to faring atAlaska road-houses, to making his own camp, on occasion, with a singlehelper in the frosty solitudes, that view through the French window musthave seemed like a scene from the Arabian Nights. Involuntarily hestopped, and suddenly the luxurious interior became a setting for oneliving figure. Elizabeth was there, arranging trifles on a Christmas tree;and Mrs. Feversham, seated at a piano, was playing a brilliant bolero; butthe one woman he saw held the center of the stage. Her sparkling face wasframed in a mantilla; a camellia, plucked from one of the floweringshrubs, was tucked in the lace above her ear, and she was dancing withcastanets in the old mission garden. 

The next moment Frederic passed him and threw open the door with hisinevitable "Bravo!" And instantly the music ceased; Marcia started to herfeet; the dancer pulled off her mantilla, and the flower dropped from herhair. 

"Go on! Encore!" he laughed. "My, but you've got that cachucha down to ascience; bred, though, I guess, in your little Spanish feet. You'd danceall the sense a man has out of his head. "

"That's the reason none of us heard the _Aquila_ whistle, " said Marcia, coming forward. "Beatriz promised to dance to-night, in a marvelous yellowbrocade that was her great-grandmother's, and we were rehearsing; but shelooked so like a nun, masquerading, in that gray crepe de Chine, I almostforgot the accompaniment. Why, Mr. Foster! How delightful you were able toget home for Christmas. "

"I am fortunate, " he answered, smiling. "The ice caught me in the Yukon, but I mushed through to Fairbanks and came on to the coast by stage. Ijust made the steamer, and she docked alongside the _Aquila_ not fifteenminutes before she sailed. Mr. Morganstein brought me along to hear myreport. "

"I guess we are all glad to have you home for Christmas, " said Elizabeth. 

She moved on with her sister to meet the other guests who were troopinginto the hall, and Foster found himself taking Mrs. Weatherbee's hand. Hisown shook a little, and suddenly he was unable to say any of the friendly, solicitous things he had found it so easy to express to these otherpeople, after his long absence; only his young eyes, searching her facefor any traces of care or anxiety the season may have left, spokeeloquently. Afterwards, when the greetings were over, and the womentrailed away to their rooms, he saw he had forgotten to give her a packagewhich he had carried up from the _Aquila_, and hurried to overtake her atthe foot of the stairs. 

"It was brought down by messenger from Vivian Court for you, " heexplained, "just as we were casting off, and I took charge of it. There isa letter, you see, which the clerk has tucked under the string. "

The package was a florist's carton, wide and deep, with the name HollywoodGardens printed across the violet cover, but the letter was postmarkedWashington, D. C. "Violets!" she exclaimed softly, "'when violet time isgone. '"

Her whole lithe body seemed to emanate a subdued pleasure, and settlingthe box, unopened, in the curve of her arm, she started up the staircase. Foster, looking up, caught the glance she remembered to send from thegallery railing. Her smile was radiant. 

She did not turn on the electric switch when she closed her door; theprimrose walls reflected the light from the great plate-glass window, withthe effect of candle glow. She put the box on a table near the casementand laid the letter aside to lift the lid. The perfume of violets rose inher face like liberated incense. The box was filled with them; bunches onbunches. She bent her cheek to feel the cool touch of them; inhaled theirfragrance with deep, satisfying breaths. Presently she found the florist'senvelope and in it Tisdale's card. And she read, written under the name ina round, plain woman's hand, "This is to wish you a Merry Christmas andlet you know I have not forgotten the project. "

The sparkle went out of her face. After a moment she picked up the letterand compared the address with the writing on the card. It was the sameand, seating herself by the window, she broke the seal. When she had readthe first line under the superscription, she stopped to look at thesignature. It was Katherine Purdy. She turned back and began again:

"_My dear Mrs. Weatherbee:_

"I am the night nurse on Mr. Tisdale's ward. He dictated the message onhis card to me, and I learned your address through ordering the violets ofthe Seattle florist for him. It set me wondering whether he has ever letyou know how desperate things were with him. He is the most unselfish manI ever saw, and the bravest that ever came on this floor. The evening hearrived the surgeons advised amputating his hand--it was a case ofblood-poisoning--but he said, 'No, I am ready to take the risk; that righthand is more than half of me, my better half. ' He could joke, even then. And when the infection spread to the arm, it was the same. After that itwas too late to operate; just a question of endurance. And he could endureall right. My, but he was patient! I wish you could have seen him, as Idid, lying here hour after hour, staring at the ceiling, asking fornothing, when every nerve in his body must have been on fire. But he wonthrough. He is lying here still, weak and pale enough, but safe. 

"Maybe I seem impertinent, and I suppose I am young and foolish, but Idon't care; I wouldn't be hard as nails, like some in this clinic, if itwas to cost me my diploma. I came from the Pacific west--I am going backthere as soon as I graduate--and a girl from there never can learn tobottle her feelings till she looks like a graven image. Besides, I know Iam writing to a western woman. But I want to say right here he never madea confidant of me, never said one word, intentionally, about you, butthere were nights when his temperature was running from a hundred and fourdegrees that he got to talking some. Most of the time he was going allover that terrible trip to find poor Mr. Weatherbee, and once, when he washunting birds along some glacier, he kept hearing David singing andcalling him. Again he was just having the best, quiet little visit withhim. My, how he loved that man! And when it wasn't David, it was you. 'Iknow you couldn't marry a man like Morgan, ' he said. 'You may think so, but you will not when the time comes. ' And once it was, 'Beatrice, Beatrice, in spite of everything I can't help believing in you. ' Then onenight, his worst before the crisis, he seemed to be helping you throughsome awful danger, it was a storm I think, and there were wild beasts andmountains, and at last when it was all over, he said quietly: 'You do oweyour life to me, but I shall never hold you to the debt; that would be toomonstrous. ' And a little later it was, 'Head high, hold fast, it will be astiff fight, soldier. My dear, my dear, do you think I don't know how nearyou came to loving me?' I guess you know how he said that. There arecertain tones in his voice that sink straight to the bottom of your heart;I couldn't keep from crying. And it seems to me that if you really knewhow much he thought of you, and how sick he had been, and how he haswanted you, nothing could keep you from packing up and coming straight toWashington. I know I should. I could go anywhere, through Alaska or theGreat Sahara, it wouldn't matter which, for a man, if there is one in thisworld, who could love me that well. "

Beatriz Weatherbee folded the letter and replaced it in the envelope. Theaction was mechanical, and she sat twisting it with a kind of silentemphasis, looking out into the thick atmosphere. A dash of hail struck thewindow; the plate glass grew opaque. Then, suddenly, she lifted her armsto the table and dropped her face; her body shook. It was as though shehad come at last to her blank wall; the inevitable she had so persistentlyevaded was upon her; there was no escape. 

Presently some one knocked. And instantly her intrepid spirit was up, onguard. She sat erect and pressed her handkerchief swiftly to her eyes. Then Marcia Feversham opened the door and, finding the button, flashed onthe lights. 

"Why, Beatriz, " she exclaimed. "Are you here in the dark? You must havefallen asleep in your chair. "

"And dreaming. " She rose, shading her eyes from the sudden glare. "But itwas a wretched dream, Marcia; I am glad you wakened me. Where isElizabeth?"

"Making Frederic's cocktail. He needed a bracer to go through a businessmeeting with Stuart Foster; but she will be here directly. I thought, since we are to share your rooms, we had better dress early to be out ofthe way. And I sent Celeste in to the Hallidays; Elizabeth can doeverything for me. "

"Much better than Celeste, " she agreed. "And while you are busy, I shallgo for a bracing little walk. "

"A walk?" echoed Marcia in astonishment. "Why, it's storming. Hear that!"

Another burst of hail struck the window. Mrs. Weatherbee turned, listening, and so avoiding Marcia's penetrating eyes, dropped her handfrom her own. "I have my raincoat and cap, " she said, "and a smart brushwith the wind will clear my head of cobwebs. "

With this she hurriedly smoothed the letter and laid it between the pagesof a book; lifting the violets from the table, she carried them out of thesteam-heated apartment to the coolness of the sleeping-porch. Mrs. Feversham followed to the inner room and stood watching her through theopen door. 

"Violets!" she exclaimed. "At Christmas! From wherever did they come?"

"From Hollywood Gardens, " she responded almost eagerly. "Isn't itmarvelous how they make the out-of-season flowers bloom? But this flurryof hail is the end of the storm, Marcia; the clouds are breaking, and itis light enough to see the path above the pergola. I shall have time to goas far as the observatory. "

Before she finished speaking, she was back in the room and hurrying on herraincoat. Mrs. Feversham began to lay out various toilet accessories, butpresently, when the gallery door closed behind Beatriz, she walked to thetable near the plate-glass window and picked up the book. It was amorocco-bound edition of Omar's _Rubaiyat_, which she had often noticed atthe apartment in Vivian Court, yet she studied the title deliberately, andalso the frontispiece, before she turned to the pages that enclosed theletter. But it was natural that, holding both her brother's and BeatrizWeatherbee's interests so at heart, her scruples should be finallydispelled, and she laid the volume face down, to keep the place, while sheread the night nurse's unclinical report. After that she went to the boxof violets in the sleeping-porch and found Tisdale's message, and she hadslipped the card carefully back and stood looking meditatively off throughthe open casement when her sister entered from the gallery. At the sametime Mrs. Weatherbee appeared on the path above the pergola. But she hadnot escaped to the solitude she so evidently had desired, for Fosteraccompanied her. When they stopped to look down on the villa and thelittle cove where the _Aquila_ rocked at her moorings, Marcia waved herhand gaily, then turned to the brilliant room. 

Elizabeth met her at the threshold. "What has sent Beatriz out in thisweather?" she asked. 

"Why, you see, "--Marcia answered with a little backward gesture to thefigures on the slope, --"since this is Stuart Foster's first visit to thevilla, he must be personally conducted through the park. "

"She tried her best to discourage him. They were standing at the sideentrance when I came through the dining-room. She warned him firstimpressions were everything and that it would be blowing a gale at theobservatory; besides, if Frederic was waiting, she would not beresponsible. "

"But, 'come what will, what may'"--and meeting her sister's look, Marcia'seyes gathered brilliancy--"the man must have his hour. "

"That is what he told her. He said the syndicate had had his time andbrains, he might as well add his soul, for three months steady, and now hewas entitled to his hour. I wonder--" Elizabeth's even voice wavered--"Doyou think she will refuse him?"

"I haven't a doubt. " And Marcia crossed to the dressing-table and began toremove the shell pins from her glossy black hair. 

"She seemed so changed, " pursued Elizabeth following. "So, well, anxious, depressed, and you know how gay she was at the time the _Aquila_ came. AndI happened to be near them when we started up-stairs. It was plain she wasglad to see him. But he gave her a package that had been forwarded fromVivian Court. There was a letter; it may have been from Lucky Banks. "

Marcia was silent. She lifted her brush and swept it the length of herunbound hair. 

"If it was, " resumed Elizabeth, "if he has experimented far enough andwants to forfeit that bonus, I am going to buy that piece of Wenatcheedesert myself. The Novelty mills will pay me enough for my tide lands. "

"No, Elizabeth. You will hold on to your tide lands, every foot. " Mrs. Feversham paused to watch her sister's eyes capitulate under the batteriesof her own, then said: "But you need not worry; Frederic will probablytake that option off Lucky Banks' hands. Now, please do my puffs; high, you know, so as to use the paradise aigrette. "

Foster, too, had felt the change in Mrs. Weatherbee's mood since he lefther at the foot of the staircase; the exhilaration that had been sospontaneous then, that had seemed to expand to take him in, was now somanifestly forced. And presently it came over him she was makingconversation, saying all these neutral things about the villa and groundsto safeguard the one vital thing she feared to have him touch. 

"Tell me about yourself, " he interrupted at last. "You don't know how I'veworried about you; how I've blamed myself all these slow months forleaving you as I did. Of course you understood the company decided to sendme in to the Iditarod suddenly, with only a few hours' notice, and toreach the interior while the summer trails were passable I had to take thesteamer sailing that day. I tried to find you, but you were out of town;so I wrote. "

"I received the letter, " she responded quickly. "I want to thank you forit; it was very pleasant indeed to feel the security of a friend inreserve. But you had written if there was anything you could do, or if, any time, I should need you to let you know, and there was no reason to. Isaw I had allowed you to guess the state of my finances; they had been alittle depressed, I confess, but soon after you sailed, I gave an optionon that desert land east of the Cascades and was paid a bonus of threethousand dollars. "

"Then Tisdale did take that property off your hands, after all. I tried tomake myself believe he would; but his offer to buy hinged on thepracticability of that irrigation project. "

"I know. He found it was practicable to carry it out. But--I gave theoption to Mr. Banks. "

"Lucky Banks, " questioned Foster incredulously, "of Iditarod? Why, hetalked of a big farming scheme in Alaska. "

"I do not know about that. But he had thought a great deal of David. Theyhad been partners, it seems, in Alaska. Once, in a dreadful blizzard, healmost perished, and David rescued him. He knew about the project andoffered to make the payment of three thousand dollars to hold the landuntil he found out whether the scheme was feasible. I needed the moneyvery much. There was a debt it was imperative to close. So I accepted thebonus without waiting to let Mr. Tisdale know. "

Foster's brows clouded. "Well, why shouldn't you? Tisdale has himself toblame, if he let his opportunity go. "

There was a silent interval. They had reached the brow of the bluff and, coming into the teeth of the wind, she dipped her head and ran to gain theshelter of the pavilion. Then, while she gathered her breath, leaning alittle on the parapet and looking off to the broad sweep of running sea, Foster said: "It was that debt that worried me up there in the wilderness. You had referred to it the evening after the theater, a week before I wentaway. You called it a debt of honor. You laughed at the time, but youwarned me it was the hardest kind of debt because an obligation to afriend kept one continually paying interest in a hundred small ways. Yousaid it was like selling yourself on a perpetual instalment plan. Thatwasn't the first time you had spoken of it, but you seemed to feel thepressure more that night and, afterwards, up there in the north, I got tothinking it over. I blamed myself for not finding out the truth. I wasafraid the loan was Frederic Morganstein's. " He paused and drew back astep with a quick uplift of his aggressive chin. "Was it?" he asked. 

"Yes. " She drew erect and turned from the parapet to meet his look. "Mynote came into his hands. But I see I must explain. It began in a yearlysubscription to the Orthopedic hospital; the one, you know, for littledeformed children. I was very interested when the movement started; I sangat concerts, danced sometimes you remember, to help along the fund. And Iendowed a little bed. David always seemed just on the brink of riches inthose days, his letters were full of brilliant predictions, but when thesecond annual payment fell due, I had to borrow of Elizabeth. Shesuggested it. She herself was interested deeper, financially, than I. Allthe people we knew, who ever gave to charity, were eager to help theOrthopedic; the ladies at the head were our personal friends; the bestsurgeons were giving their services and time. I hadn't the courage to havemy subscription discontinued so soon, and I expected to cancel the debtwhen I heard again from David. But the next spring it was the same; Iborrowed again from Elizabeth. After that, when she wanted to apply thesum to the hospital building fund, Mrs. Feversham advanced the money, andI gave my note. My bed, then, was given to a little, motherless boy. Hehad the dearest, most trusting smile and great, dark eyes; the kind thattalk to you. And his father had deserted him. That seems incredible; thata man can leave his own child, crippled, ill, unprovided for; but it doeshappen, sometimes. " She paused to steady her voice and looked off againfrom the parapet. "The surgeons were greatly interested in the case, " shewent on. "They were about to perform an unusual operation. All his futuredepended on it. So--I let my subscription run on; so much could happen ina year. The operation was a perfect success, and when the boy was ready togo, one of the Orthopedic women adopted him. He is the happiest, sturdiestlittle fellow now. 

"At the end of the summer when the note fell due Mrs. Feversham did notcare to renew it; she was going to Washington and wished to use the moneyin New York. The desert tract was all I had, and when Mr. Morgansteinplanned the motoring trip through the mountains and down to Portland, heoffered to take a day to look the land over. He did not want to encumberhimself with any more real estate, he said, but would advise me on itspossibilities for the market. An accident to the car in Snoqualmie Passobliged him to give up the excursion, and Marcia disposed of the note tohim. She said it could make little difference to me since her brother waswilling to let the obligation rest until I was ready to meet it. I do notblame her; there are some things Marcia Feversham and I do not see in thesame light. It isn't so much through custom and breeding; it's the way wewere created, bone and spirit. " Her voice broke but she laid her hand onthe parapet again with a controlling grasp and added evenly, "That is thereason when Mr. Banks came I was so ready to accept his offer. "

"So, that was your debt of honor!" Foster began unsteadily; the wordscaught in his throat, and for an instant her face grew indistinct throughthe mist he could not keep back from his eyes. "You knew you weretraveling on thin ice; the break-up was almost on you, yet you handicappedyourself with those foundlings. And you never told me. I could have takenover that subscription, I should have been glad of the chance, you musthave known that, but you allowed me to believe it was a loan to coverpersonal expenses. "

She met the reproach with a little fleeting smile. "There were times whenthose accounts pressed, I am going to admit that, in justice to Elizabeth. She always buoyed me through. I have known her intimately for years. Wewere at Mills Seminary together, and even then she was the mostdependable, resourceful, generous girl in the school. I never should havehad the courage to dispose of things--for money--but she offered to. Onceit was the bracelet that had been my great-grandmother's; the serpent, youremember, with jewelled scales and fascinating ruby eyes. The Japaneseconsul bought it for his wife. And once it was that dagger the firstAmerican Don Silva wore. The design was Moorish, you know, with a crescentin the hilt of unique stones. The collector who wanted it promised to giveme the opportunity to redeem it if ever he wished to part with it, andElizabeth had the agreement written and signed. "

"Like a true Morganstein. But I knew how much she thought of you. I usedto remind myself, up there in the Iditarod wilderness, that you had herclear, practical sense and executive ability to rely on. "

"That has been my one rare good-fortune; to have had Elizabeth. Not that Idepreciate my other friends, " and she gave Foster another fleeting smile. "There was Mrs. Brown who in the autumn, when I saw the necessity to giveup my apartment at Vivian Court, asked me to stay in exchange for pianoand dancing lessons. I had often taught her little girls for pleasure, they were so sweet and lovable, when they visited in my rooms. Still, afterwards, I learned the suggestion came from Elizabeth. Now you knoweverything, " she added with determined gaiety. "And I have had my draughtof ozone. We must hurry back, or they will wonder what has become of us. "

She turned to the path, and the young engineer followed in silence. He didnot know everything; deep in his heart the contradiction burned. Whatevermay have caused her exhilaration at the time the _Aquila_ arrived, it wasnot his return, and while her explanations satisfied him that she was inno immediate financial distress, he felt that her confidence coveredunplumbed depths she did not wish him to sound. 

They had reached the footbridge over the cascade when he said abruptly:"After all, I am glad Lucky Banks got ahead on the irrigation project. Hewill find it feasible, if any one can. He grew up on an Oregon farm, andwhat he hasn't learned about sluicing in Alaska isn't worth knowing. Itleaves Hollis Tisdale no alternative. "

She turned waiting, with inquiry in her eyes. 

"I mean in regard to the Aurora. He hasn't the saving grace of an excuse, now, not to convey that last half interest back to you. "

"I do not want a half interest in the Aurora mine. " She drew herself verystraight, swaying a little on the balls of her feet. "You must not suggestit. I should not accept it even through a United States court. It belongsto Mr. Tisdale. He furnished the funds that made my husband's prospectingtrip possible. And all the gold in Alaska could not repay him for--what hedid. Sometimes, when I think of him alone on that terrible trail, hestands out more than a man. Epics have been written on less; it was afriendship to be glorified in some great painting or bronze. But then hetouched so lightly on his own part in the story; in the incense he burnedto David he was obscured. "

Foster stood watching her in surprise. The color that the wind had failedto whip back to her cheeks burned now, two brilliant spots; raindrops, ortears, hung trembling on her lashes, and through them flamed the bluefires of her eyes. 

"So, " he said slowly, "so, Tisdale did hunt you up, after all; and, ofcourse, you had the whole hard story from him. "

"I heard him tell it, yes, but he left out about the--wolves. "

"Wolves?" repeated Foster incredulously. "There were no wolves. Why, to beovertaken by a pack, single-handed, on the trail, is the worst that canhappen to a man. "

She nodded. "Mr. Banks told me. He had talked with the miners who foundhim. It was terrible. " A great shudder ran through her body; for a momentshe pressed her fingers to her eyes, then she added with difficulty, almost in a whisper: "He was defending David. "

"No, no! Great Scott! But see here, "--Foster laid his hand on her arm anddrew her on down the path, "don't try to tell me any more. I understand. Banks shouldn't have told you. Come, remember Tisdale won through. He'ssafe. "

After a silence, she said: "I doubt if you know how ill he has been. "

"Tisdale? No, I hadn't heard. "

"I only learned to-day; and he has been in a Washington hospital all thesemonths. The surgeons advised amputating his hand, " she went on with atremulous breathlessness, "but he refused. He said he would take the risk;that right hand was more than half of him, his 'better half. '"

Involuntarily Foster smiled in recognition of that dominant note inTisdale. "But he never seemed more physically fit than on the night I leftSeattle, " he expostulated. "And there isn't a man in Alaska whounderstands the dangers and the precautions of frostbite better thanHollis Tisdale does. "

"It was not frost; it was a vicious horse, " she answered. "It happenedafter you saw him, on that trip to Wenatchee, while he was leading thevixen over a break in the road. We were obliged to spend the night at awretched way-house, and the hurt became infected. "

Foster stopped. "You were obliged to spend the night?" he inquired. 

"Yes. It happened in this way. Mr. Tisdale had taken the Milwaukee lineover the mountains, intending to finish the trip on horseback, to see thecountry, and I, you remember, was motoring through Snoqualmie Pass withthe Morgansteins. His train barely missed colliding with our car. Mr. Morganstein was injured, and the others took the westbound home with him, but I decided to board the eastbound and go on by stage to Wenatchee, tosee my desert tract, and return by way of the Great Northern. I found thestage service discontinued, so Mr. Tisdale secured a team instead of asaddle-horse, and we drove across. "

"I see. " Foster smiled again. So Tisdale had capitulated on sight. "I see. You looked the tract over together, yet he hesitated with his offer. "

She did not answer directly. They had reached the pergola, and she put outher hand groping, steadying herself through the shadows. "Mr. Tisdalebelieved at the beginning I was some one else, " she said then. "I was soentirely different from his conception of David Weatherbee's wife. In theend he offered to finance the project if I would see it carried through. Irefused. "

"Of course you refused, " responded Foster quickly. "It was preposterous ofhim to ask it of you. I can't understand it in Tisdale. He was always sobroad, so fine, so head and shoulders above other men, so, well, chivalrous to women. But, meantime, while he hesitated, Banks came withhis offer?"

"Yes. While he was desperately ill in that hospital. I--I don't know whathe will think of me--when he hears--" she went on with little, steadyingpauses. "It is difficult to explain. So much happened on that drive to theWenatchee valley. In the end, during an electrical storm, he saved me froma falling tree. What he asked of me was so very little, the weight of afeather, against all I owe him. Still, a woman does not allow even such aman to finance her affairs; people never would have understood. Besides, how could I have hoped, in a lifetime, to pay the loan? It was the mostbarren, desolate place; a deep, dry gulf shut in by a wicked mountain--youcan't imagine--and I told him I never could live there, make it my home. "They were nearly through the pergola; involuntarily she stopped and, looking up at Foster, the light from a Japanese lantern illumined hersmall, troubled face. "But in spite of everything, " she went on, "hebelieves differently. To-day his first message came from Washington toremind me he had not forgotten the project. How can I--when he is so ill--how can I let him know?"

Foster had had his hour; and, at this final moment, he sounded thosehitherto unplumbed depths. "It will be all right, " he said steadily; "waituntil you see what Lucky Banks does. You can trust him not to stand inTisdale's way. And don't think I underrate Hollis Tisdale. He is a man ina thousand. No one knows that better than I. And that's why I am going tohold him to his record. "

CHAPTER XXII

"AS MAN TO MAN"

In January, when Mrs. Feversham returned to Washington, her brotheraccompanied her as far as Wenatchee. He went prepared to offer Banks ashigh as five thousand dollars for his option. 

At that time the Weatherbee tract was blanketed in snow. It never drifted, because Cerberus shut out the prevailing wind like a mighty door; even thebench and the high ridge beyond lifted above the levels of the vale smoothas upper floors. Previous to that rare precipitation, gangs of men, put towork on both quarter sections, had removed the sage-brush and plantedtrees, and the new orchard traced a delicate pattern on the white carpetin rows and squares. Banks had hurried the concrete lining of the basinwalls, and when it became necessary to suspend construction on the flumes, he saw with satisfaction that the reservoir would husband the meltingsnows and so supply temporary irrigation in the early spring. All thelumber estimates had been included in his orders for building material inthe autumn, and already the house on the bench showed a tiled roof aboveits mission walls, while down the gap and midway up the side slope ofCerberus rose the shingled gables of Annabel's home. 

To facilitate the handling of freight, the railroad company had laid asiding at the nearest point in Hesperides Vale; then, for the convenienceof the workmen, the daily local made regular stops, and the little stationbore the name of Weatherbee. Later, at the beginning of the year, it hadbecome a post-office, and the Federal building included a general store. Also, at that time, the girders of a new brick block rose on the adjoininglots, and a sign secured to the basement wall announced: "This strictlymodern building will be completed about June first. For office and floorspace see Henderson Bailey. "

The financier, who had motored up the valley in a rented car, noted theseindications of an embryo town with interest. 

"Who is Henderson Bailey?" he asked. 

And the chauffeur answered with surprise: "Don't you know Bailey? Why, he's the man that got in on the ground floor. He owns the heart ofHesperides Vale. That was his apple orchard we passed, you remember, a fewminutes ago. But the man who is backing him on that brick block is LuckyBanks of Alaska. They are pulling together, nip and tuck, for Weatherbee. "

"Nip--and Tuck, " repeated Morganstein thoughtfully. "That reminds me of ayoung team of bays I considered buying last fall, over at North Yakima. Rather well named, if you knew 'em. But they were a little too gay forSeattle hills and the lady I expected would drive 'em. George, though, they made a handsome showing. A dealer named Lighter owned 'em, and theywon the blue ribbon for three-year-olds at Yakima and Spokane. "

"I know them, " replied the chauffeur. "They are owned here in the valleynow; and Lucky Banks' wife is driving them. You can meet her most any dayspeeling down to the Columbia to see her goats. "

"Goats?" queried Frederic. 

"Yes, sir. Didn't you know she used to keep a flock of Angoras up here? Itwas her land before she was married. But when Banks turned up with hispile and started the orchards, the goats had to go. It wouldn't have takenthem a week to chew up every stick he planted. So she hired a man towinter them down on the Columbia, where she could keep an eye on them. Strange, " the chauffeur went on musingly, "what a difference clothes makein a woman. Nobody noticed her much, only we thought she was kind oftouched, when she was herding those billies by herself up that pocket, butthe minute Banks came, she blossomed out; made us all sit up and takenotice. Yes, sir, she's sure some style. To see her in her up-to-datemotoring-coat, veil to match, cape gloves, and up behind that team, you'dthink the Empress of India had the road. "

"Just what I said first time I saw her, " Morganstein chuckled thickly. "OrI guess it was the Queen of Sheba I called her. Happened to be grand-operanight, and she wore a necklace made of some of Banks' nuggets. George, shecould carry 'em; had the throat and shoulders. It isn't the clothes thatmake the difference, my boy; it's the trick of wearing 'em. I know a slimlittle thoroughbred, who puts on a plain gray silk like it was cloth ofgold. You'd think she was walking tiptoe to keep it off this darned oldearth. Lord, I'd like to see her in the real stuff. George, I'll do it, soon's we're married, " and he laughed deeply at the notion. "I'll order acloth of gold gown direct from Paris, and I'll set a diamond tiara on herproud little head. Bet it don't out-sparkle her eyes. Lord, Lord, she'llmake 'em all stare. "

The chauffeur gave the financier a measuring glance from the corner of hiseye, but he puckered his lips discreetly to cover a grin, and with hishead still cocked sidewise, looked off to the lifting front of Cerberus, whistling softly _Queen Among the Heather_. But the tune ceased abruptlyand, straightening like an unstrung bow, he swerved the machine out of thethoroughfare and brought it to a stop. 

It was not the Empress of India who held the road, but little Banks in hisred car. Slackening speed, he shouted back above the noise of the exhaust:"Hello! Is that you, Mr. Morganstein? I guess likely you're looking forme. But I can't stop. I've got to catch the local for Wenatchee; theeastbound don't make our station, and I'm booked for a little run throughto Washington, D. C. "

"That so?" answered Morganstein thoughtfully. "I came over just to look atthis orchard of yours. See here, wait a minute. " He unbuttoned his heavycoat and, finding a pocket, drew out a time-card. "You will have a coupleof hours to waste in Wenatchee between trains. Give me half an hour, longenough to show me a bird's-eye view of the project--that's all I want inthis snow and I guarantee to put you in Wenatchee on time for youreastbound. The road is in good shape; driver knows his car. "

Banks left his roadster and came over to the larger car. "I'll risk itsince you've broke trail, " he said, taking the vacant seat behind. "But Iknew if I took chances with snow, in this contrary buzz-wagon of mine, she'd likely skid off the first mean curve. "

Morganstein, laughing, changed his seat for the one beside the prospector. "It's like this, dry and firm as a floor, straight through to Wenatchee. These are great roads you have in this valley; wish we had 'em on theother side the range. "

"I sent a scraper up from the station ahead of me, " said Banks. "And, driver, we may as well run up the switchback to the house. It's levelthere, with room to turn. And it will give you the chance to see the wholelayout below, " he went on, explaining to Morganstein. "The property onthis side the mountain belongs to my wife, but we ain't living here yet;we are stopping with folks down by the station. Likely we'll move, soon'sI get back from my trip. That is, if the boys get busy. Seem's if I haveto keep after some of them all the time. To-day it's the lathers. I've gotto stop, going through Weatherbee, to tell my wife to have an eye on them. They get paid by the bundle, and they told me this morning lathe would runshort before they was through. I knew I had ordered an extra hundred onthe architect's figgers, but I didn't say anything. Just prospected 'roundand came back unexpected, and caught one of them red-handed. He wastucking a bunch between the ceiling and the upper floor, without evencutting the string. I made them rip off the lathe, and there they werestored thick, a full bundle to 'bout every three they'd nailed on. "

"That's the way, " commented Morganstein, "every man of 'em will do you, ifhe sees a chance. Mrs. Banks will have to keep both eyes open, if you areleaving it to her. But it will be compensation to her, I guess, drivingthose bays over from the station every day. Handsomest team in Washington. I'll bet, " and he turned his narrow eyes suddenly on Banks, "Lighter heldyou up for all they were worth. "

"The team belongs to Hollis Tisdale, " answered Banks. "He bought them atKittitas last fall and drove them through. They were in the valley when Icame, and he asked me to look after them while he was east. My wifeexercises them. She understands horses, my, yes. One of those colts had amean trick of snapping at you if you touched the bit, but she cured himcomplete. And she took such a shine to that team I thought likely they'ddo for a Christmas present. Tisdale told me in the fall if I had a goodchance, to sell, so I wrote and made him an offer. But his answer nevercame till last night. A nurse at the hospital in Washington wrote for him;he had been laid up with a case of blood-poison all winter, and it startedfrom a nip that blame' colt gave him on the trip from Kittitas. He refusedmy price because, seeing's the team wasn't safe for a full-sized man todrive, it went against his conscience to let them go to a lady. "

"He was right, " said Morganstein. "George, that was a lucky escape. I waswithin an ace of buying that team myself. But I put down Tisdale'ssickness to frostbite; often goes that way with a man in the north. "

"Sure; it does. " Banks paused, while his glance fell to the empty fingersof his right glove. "But that colt, Nip, gets the credit this time. Ithappened while Hollis was trying to lead him over a break in the road. Hesaid it didn't amount to anything, the night I saw him before he leftSeattle, but he had the hand bandaged, and I'd ought to have known it wasgiving him trouble. "

Morganstein pondered a silent moment, then said slowly, "Kittitas is closeenough to be a suburb of Ellensburg, and that's where the Wenatchee stagemeets the Milwaukee Puget Sound train. Friend of mine made the trip aboutthat time; didn't say anything of a break in the road. "

"There's just one road through, " answered Banks, "and that's the one theyused for hauling from the Northern Pacific line while this railroad wasbuilding. Likely there was a stage then, but it ain't running now. "

Frederic pondered again, then a gleam of intelligence flashed in his eyes. "Did Tisdale make that trip from Kittitas alone?" he asked. 

Banks shook his head. "He didn't mention any passengers. Likely it washaving to drive himself, after his hand was hurt, that did the mischief. Anyhow, he's had a close call; fought it out sooner than let the doctorstake his hand; and he never let one of us boys know. That was just the waywith Dave Weatherbee; they was a team. But I'm going to look him up, now, soon's I can. He had to get that nurse to write for him. Likely thereain't a man around to tend to his business; he might be all out of money. "

"I guess, with the Aurora mine to back him, you needn't worry. "

The little man shook his head. "It will take more security than the Aurorato open a bank account in Washington, D. C. I ain't saying anything againstDave Weatherbee's strike, " he added quickly, "but, when you talk Alaska tothose fellows off there in the east, they get cold feet. "

Morganstein looked off, chuckling his appreciation. They had arrived atthe final curve; on one side, rising from the narrow shoulder, stoodAnnabel's new home, while on the other the mountain sloped abruptly toWeatherbee's vale. Banks pointed out the peach orchard on the bench at thetop of the pocket; the rim of masonry, pushing through the snow, thatmarked the reservoir; the apple tract below. 

"I see, " said Frederic, "and this mountain we are on must be the one Mrs. Weatherbee noticed, looking down from that bench. Reminded her of somekind of a beast!"

Banks nodded. "It looked like a cross between a cougar and a husky in thefall. One place you catch sight of two heads. But she'll be tamer in thespring, when things begin to grow. There's more peaches, set in narrowterraces where the road cross-cuts down there, and all these smallhummocks under the snow are grapes. It's warm on this south slope andsheltered from the frosts; the vines took right ahold; and, with fillersof strawberries hurrying on the green, Dave's wife won't know the mountainby summer, my, no. "

"Presume, " said the financier abruptly, "you expect to supply both tractswith water from those springs?"

"My, no. This quarter section belongs to my wife, and it's up to me tomake the water connections safe for her. I can do it. " Banks set his lipsgrimly, and his voice shrilled a higher key. "Yes, sir, even if I have totunnel through from the Wenatchee. But I think likely I'll tap the newHigh Line and rig a flume with one of these new-style electric pumps. Andmy idea would be to hollow out a nice little reservoir, with maybe afountain, right here on this shoulder alongside the house, and let asluice and spillways follow the road down. There'd be water handy then, and to spare, in case Dave's springs happen to pinch out. "

Morganstein's glance moved slowly over the sections of road cross-cuttingthe mountain below, and on up the vale to the distant bench. Presently hesaid: "What are you building over there? A barn, or is it a winery foryour grapes?"

"It's neither, " answered Banks with sharp emphasis. "It's a regular, first-class house. Dave Weatherbee was counting on striking it rich inAlaska when he drew the plans. The architect calls it California-Spanishstyle. The rooms are built around a court, and we are piping for thefountain now. "

Frederic grew thoughtful. Clearly an offer of five thousand dollars forLucky Banks' option on the Weatherbee tract was inadequate. After a momenthe said: "What is it going to cost you?"

"Well, sir, counting that house complete, without the furniture, seventhousand would be cheap. "

After that the financier was silent. He looked at his watch, as theymotored down Cerberus, considering, perhaps, the probabilities of atelegram reaching Marcia; but he did not make the venture when theyarrived in Wenatchee, and the nearest approach he made to that offer waswhile he and Banks were waiting at the station for their separate trains. They were seated together on a bench at the time, and Frederic, havinglighted a cigar, drew deeply as though he hoped to gather inspiration. Then he edged closer and, dropping his heavy hand on the littleprospector's shoulder, said thickly: "See here, tell me this, as man toman, if you found both those tracts too big to handle, what would you takefor your option on the Weatherbee property?"

And Banks, edging away to the end of the seat, answered sharply: "I canhandle both; my option ain't for sale. "

CHAPTER XXIII

THE DAY OF PUBLICATION

It was a mild evening, the last in February, and Jimmie, who had receivedtwo copies of the March issue of _Sampson's Magazine_ direct from thepublisher, celebrated the event by taking the Society Editor canoeing onLake Washington. Instead of helping with the bow paddle, of which she wasfully capable, Miss Atkins settled against the pillows facing him, withthe masterpiece in her lap. The magazine was closed, showing his nameamong the specially mentioned on the cover, but she kept the place withher finger. She had a pretty hand, and it was adorned by the very bestdiamond that could be bought at Hanson's for one hundred and fiftydollars. 

She waited, watching Jimmie's stroke, while the Peterboro slipped out fromthe boathouse and rose quartering to the swells of a passing launch. Herhat was placed carefully behind her in the bow, and the light windroughened her hair, which was parted on the side, into small rings on herforehead. It gave her an air of boyish camaraderie, and the young author'sglance, moving from the magazine and the ring, swept her whole trim figureto the mannish, flat-heeled little shoes, and returned to her face. "Thisis my red-letter day, " he said. 

"It's the proudest in my life, " answered Geraldine, and the way in whichshe said it made him catch his breath. 

"It makes me feel almost sure enough to cut loose from the _Press_ and gointo business for myself. "

"Oh, I shouldn't be in a hurry to leave the paper, if I were you, " shereplied, "even though _Sampson's_ has asked to see more of your work. "

"It isn't the magazine opening I am considering; though I shall do what Ican in that way, of course. But what would you think of an offer to takefull charge of a newspaper east of the Cascades? It's so. " He paused, nodding in emphasis to the confirmation. "The letter is there in my coatpocket. It's from Bailey--you remember that young fellow I told you aboutwho made an investment in the Wenatchee valley. Well, it seems they haveincorporated a town on some of that property. His city lots are selling sofast he has raised the price three times. And they have put him up formayor. He says it's mighty hard to run an election without a newspaper, and even if it's a late start, we will be ready next time. And the valleyneeds advertising; people in the east don't know where Wenatchee applesgrow. You understand. He will finance a newspaper--or rather he and LuckyBanks are going to--if I will take the management. He is holding officesnow, in a brick block that is building, until he hears from me. "

"Is it in Hesperides Vale, where the Bankses live?"

"Yes. The name of the town is Weatherbee. And I heard from that littleminer, too. " Jimmie paused, smiling at the recollection. "It was a kind ofsupplement to Bailey's letter. He thought likely I could recommend someyoung fellow to start a newspaper. A married man was preferred, as it wasa new camp and in need of more ladies. "

Geraldine laughed, flushing softly, "Isn't that just like him?" she said. "I can see his eyes twinkling. "

"It sounds rather good to me, " Jimmie went on earnestly. "I haveconfidence in Bailey. And it was mother's dream, you know, to see meestablish a paper over there; it would mean something to me to see itrealized--but--do you think you could give up your career to help methrough?"

Geraldine was silent, and Jimmie leaned forward a little, resting on hisstroke. "I know I am not worth it, but so far as that goes, neither was myfather; yet mother gave up everything to back him. She kept him on thatdesert homestead the first five years, until he proved up and got hispatent, and he might have stayed with it, been rich to-day, if she hadlived. "

"Of course I like you awfully well, " said Geraldine, flushing pinkly, "andit isn't that I haven't every confidence in you, but--I must take a littletime to decide. "

A steamer passed, and Jimmie resumed his strokes, mechanically turning thecanoe out of the trough. Geraldine opened the magazine and began to scanthe editor's note under the title. "Why, " she exclaimed tremulously, "didyou know about this? Did you see the proofs?"

"No. What is the excitement? Isn't it straight?"

"Listen!" Miss Atkins sat erect; the cushion dropped under her elbow; herlips closed firmly between the sentences she read. 

"'This is one of those true stories stranger than fiction. This man, whowantonly murdered a child in his path and told of it for the amusement ofa party of pleasure-seekers aboard a yacht on Puget Sound, who should beserving a prison sentence to-day, yet never came to a trial, is HollisTisdale of the Geographical Survey; a man in high favor with theadministration and the sole owner of the fabulously rich Aurora mine inAlaska. The widow of his partner who made the discovery and paid for itwith his life is penniless. Strange as it may seem--for the testimony of acriminal is not allowable in a United States court--Hollis Tisdale hasbeen called as a witness for the Government in the pending Alaska coaltrials!"

The Society Editor met Jimmie's appalled gaze. "It sounds muckraky, " shecommented, still tremulously. "But these new magazines have to dosomething to get a hold. This is just to attract public attention. "

"They'll get that, when Tisdale brings a suit for libel. Hope he will doit, and that the judgment will swamp them. They must have got his namefrom Mrs. Feversham. "

"It looks political, " said Geraldine conciliatingly, "as though they werestriking through him at the administration. "

"Go on, " said Jimmie recklessly. "Let's have it over with. "

And Geraldine launched quickly into the story. It had been mercilessly andskilfully abridged. All those undercurrents of feeling, which Jimmie hadfaithfully noted, had been suppressed; and of David Weatherbee, whomTisdale had made the hero of the adventure, there was not a word. 

"Great guns!" exclaimed the unfortunate author at the finish. "Great--guns!"

But Geraldine said nothing. She only closed the magazine and pushed itunder the pillow out of sight. There was a long silence. A first starappeared and threw a wavering trail on the lake. Jimmie, dipping hispaddle mechanically, turned the Peterboro into this pale pathway. Thepride and elation had gone out of his face. His mouth droopeddisconsolately. 

"And you called this your proudest day, " he broke out at last. 

An unexpected gentleness crept over the Society Editor's countenance. "Itwould be great to help create a city, " she said then. "To start with itourselves, at the foundations and grow. " And she added very softly, with alittle break in her voice: "I've decided to resign and go to Weatherbee. "

CHAPTER XXIV

SNOWBOUND IN THE ROCKIES AND "FIT AS A MOOSE"

Tisdale, who was expected to furnish important testimony in the Alaskacoal cases, had been served official notice at the hospital during Banks'visit. The trial was set for the twenty-fourth of March and in Seattle. 

The prospector had found him braced up in bed, and going over the finalproof of his Matanuska report, with the aid of a secretary. "You better goslow, Hollis, " he said. "You are looking about as reliable as your shadow. Likely the first puff of a wind would lift you out of sight. My, yes. ButI just ran over to say hello, and let you know if it's the expense that'shurrying you, there's a couple of thousand in the Wenatchee bank I can'tfind any use for, now the water-works are done and the house. You can haveit well's not. It ain't drawing any interest. " And Tisdale had taken thelittle man's hand between both his own and called him "true gold. " But hewas in no pressing need of money, though it was possible he might delay inrefunding those sums Banks had advanced on the project. He was able enoughto be on his feet, but these doctors were cautious; it might be anothermonth before he would be doing a man's work. 

He started west, allowing himself ample time to reach Seattle by thefifteenth of March, when Banks' option expired, but the fourteenth foundhim, after three days of delay by floods, snowbound in the Rockies. Themorning of the fifteenth, while the rotaries were still clearing trackahead, he made his way back a few miles to the nearest telegraph stationand got into communication with the mining man. 

"How are you?" came the response from Weatherbee. "Done for? Drop off atScenic Hot Springs, if your train comes through. She wrote she was there. Came up with a little crowd for the coasting. Take care of yourself, andhere is to you. 

"Lucky. "

And Tisdale, with the genial wrinkles deepening at the corners of his eyesonce more, wired: "Fit as a moose. Go fifteenth. Close business. "

A judge may pronounce a sentence yet, at the same time, feel ungovernablesprings of sympathy welling from the depths of his heart, and whileTisdale pushed his way back to the stalled train, he went over thesituation from Beatriz Weatherbee's side. He knew what the sale of thatdesert tract must mean to her; how high her hopes had flown since thepayment of the bonus. Looking forward to that final interview when, notwithstanding his improvements, Banks should relinquish his option, heweighed her disappointment. In imagination he saw the light go out of hereyes; her lip, that short upper lip with its curves of a bow, would quivera little, and the delicate nostril; then, instantly, before she had spokena word, her indomitable pride would be up like a lifted whip, to sting herinto self-control. Oh, she had the courage; she would brave it out. Still, still, he had intended to be there, not only to press the ultimatepurpose, but to--ease her through. Banks might be abrupt. He was sorry. Hewas so sorry that though he had tramped, mushed a mile, he faced about, and, in the teeth of a bitter wind, returned to the station. 

The snow was falling thickly; it blurred his tracks behind him; the crestof a drift was caught up and carried, swirling, into the railroad cut hehad left, and a great gust tore into the office with him. The solitaryoperator hurried to close the door and, shivering, stooped to put a hugestick of wood in the stove. "It's too bad, " he said. "Forgot the mainpoint, I suppose. If this keeps up, and your train moves to-morrow, itwill be through a regular snow canyon. I just got word your head rotary isout of commission, but another is coming up from the east with a gang ofshovellers. They'll stop here for water. It's a chance for you to rideback to your train. "

"Thank you, I will wait, " Tisdale answered genially. "But I like walkingin this mountain air. I like it so well that if the blockade doesn't liftby to-morrow, I am going to mush through and pick up a special to thecoast. "

While he spoke, he brushed the snow from his shoulders and took off hishat and gloves. He stood another moment, rubbing and pinching his numbhands, then went over to the desk and filled a telegraph blank. He laiddown the exact amount of the charges in silver, to which he added fivedollars in gold. 

The operator went around the counter and picked up the money. For aninstant his glance, moving from the message, rested on Tisdale's face incurious surprise. This man surely enjoyed the mountain air. He had trampedback in the teeth of a growing blizzard to send an order for violets toHollywood Gardens, Seattle. The flowers were to be expressed to a lady atScenic Hot Springs. 

After that Tisdale spent an interval moving restlessly about the room. Heread the advertisements on the walls, studied the map of the GreatNorthern route, and when the stove grew red-hot, threw open the door andtramped the platform in the piping wind. Finally, when the keyboard wasquiet, the operator brought him a magazine. The station did not keep anews-stand, but a conductor on the westbound had left this for him toread. There was a mighty good yarn--this was it--"The Tenas Papoose. " Itwas just the kind when a man was trying to kill time. 

Tisdale took the periodical. No, he had not seen it aboard the train;there were so many of these new magazines, it was hard to choose. Hesmiled at first, that editor's note was so preposterous, so plainlysensational; or was it malicious? He re-read it, knitting his brows. Whowas this writer Daniels? His mind ran back to that day aboard the_Aquila_. Aside from the Morgansteins and Mrs. Weatherbee, there had beenno one else in the party until the lieutenant was picked up at Bremerton, after the adventure was told. But Daniels--he glanced back to be sure ofthe author's name--James Daniels. Now he remembered. That was theirrepressible young fellow who had secured the photographs in SnoqualmiePass at the time of the accident to the Morganstein automobile; who hadlater interviewed Mrs. Weatherbee on the train. Had he then sought her ather hotel, ostensibly to present her with a copy of the newspaper in whichthose illustrations were published, and so ingratiated himself far enoughin her favor to gather another story from her?

Tisdale went over to a chair near the window and began to go over thoseabridged columns. He turned the page, and his lips set grimly. At last heclosed the magazine and looked off through the drifting snow. He had beengrossly misrepresented, and the reason was clear. 

This editor, struggling to establish a new periodical, had used Daniels'material to attract the public eye. He may even have had politicalambitions and aimed deeper to strike the administration through him. Hemay have taken this method to curry favor with certain moneyed men. Still, still, what object had there been in leaving Weatherbee completely out ofthe story? Weatherbee, who should have carried the leading role; who, lifting the adventure high above the sensational, had made it somethingfine. 

Again his thoughts ran back to that cruise on the _Aquila_. He saw thatgroup on the after-deck; Rainier lifting southward like a phantom mountainover the opal sea; and westward the Olympics, looming clear-cut, vivid asa scene in the tropics; the purplish blue of the nearer height sharplydefined against the higher amethyst slope that marked the gorge of theDosewallups. This setting had brought the tragedy to his mind, and toevade the questions Morganstein pressed, he had commenced to relate theadventure. But afterwards he had found himself going into the moreintimate detail with a hope of reviving some spark of appreciation ofDavid in the heart of his wife. And he had believed that he had. Still, who else, in all that little company, could have had any motive in leavingout Weatherbee? Why had she told the story at all? She was a woman ofgreat self-control, but also she had depths of pride. Had she, in the hightide of her anger or pique, taken this means to retaliate for thedisappointment he had caused her?

The approaching work-train whistled the station. He rose and went back tothe operator's desk and filled another blank. This time he addressed aprominent attorney, and his close friend, in Washington, D. C. And themessage ran:

"See _Sampson's Magazine_, March, page 330. Find whether revised orDaniels' copy. "

Toward noon the following day the express began to crawl cautiously out, with the rotaries still bucking ahead, through the great snow canyons. Themorning of the sixteenth he had left Spokane with the great levels of theColumbia desert stretching before him. And that afternoon at Wenatchee, with the white gates of the Cascades a few hours off, a messenger calledhis name down the aisle. The answer had come from his attorney. The storywas straight copy; published as received. 

CHAPTER XXV

THE IDES OF MARCH

In order to prepare for the defense, Miles Feversham, accompanied by hiswife, arrived in Seattle the first week in March. The month had openedstormy, with heavy rains, and to bridge the interval preceding the trial, Marcia planned an outing at Scenic Hot Springs where, at the higheraltitude, the precipitation had taken the form of snow, and the hoteladvertised good skeeing and tobogganing. "Make the most of it, " sheadmonished Frederic; "it's your last opportunity. If Lucky Banks forfeitshis bonus, and you can manage to keep your head and use a littlediplomacy, we may have the engagement announced before the case comes up. "

Though diplomacy was possible only through suggestion, Frederic was awilling and confident medium. He knew Mrs. Weatherbee had notified Banksshe was at Scenic and, watching her that day of the fifteenth, he was atfirst puzzled and then encouraged that, as the hours passed and theprospector failed to come, her spirits steadily rose. 

Elizabeth betrayed more anxiety. At evening she stood at the window inBeatriz's room, watching the bold front of the mountain which the GreatNorthern tracks crosscut to Cascade tunnel, when the Spokane local roundedthe highest curve and dropped cautiously to the first snow-sheds. Thebluffs between were too sheer to accumulate snow, and against the darkbackground the vague outlines of the cars passed like shadows; theelectric lights, blazing from the coaches, produced the effect of anaërial, fiery dragon. Then, in the interval it disappeared, an eastboundchallenged from the lower gorge, and the monster rushed from cover, shrieking defiance; the pawing clamp of its trucks roused themountainside. "There is your last westbound, " she said. "If your optionman isn't aboard, he forfeits his bonus. But you will be ahead the threethousand dollars and whatever improvements he may have made. "

Mrs. Weatherbee stood at the mirror fastening a great bunch of violets ather belt. There was a bouquet of them on the dresser, and a huge bowlfilled with them and relieved by a single red rose stood on the table inthe center of the room. "That is what troubles me, " she replied, andruffled her brows. "It seems so unjust that he should lose so much; that Ishould accept everything without compensating him. "

Elizabeth smiled. "I guess he meant to get what he could out of theinvestment, but afterwards, when he married and found his wife owned theadjoining unreclaimed tract, it altered the situation. It called fordouble capital and, if he hesitated and it came to a choice, naturally herinterests would swing the balance. "

"No doubt, " admitted Beatriz. "And in that case, "--she turned from themirror to watch the train--"I might deed her a strip of ground where itwas discovered her tract overlapped David's. That would be a beginning. "

"See here. " Elizabeth turned, and for an instant the motherhood deep inher softened the masculine lines of her face. "Don't you worry about LuckyBanks. Perhaps he did go into the project to satisfy his conscience, butthe deal was his, and he had the money to throw away. Some men get theirfun making over the earth. When one place is finished, they lose interestand go looking for a chance to put their time and dollars into improvingsomewhere else. Besides, "--and she took this other woman into her abruptand rare embrace--"I happen to know he had an offer for his option andrefused a good price. Now, come, Marcia and Frederic have gone down to thedining-room, you know. They were to order for us. "

But Beatriz was in no hurry. "The train is on the bridge, " she said andcaught a quick breath. "Do you hear? It is stopping at the station. "

Elizabeth, waiting at the open door, answered: "We can see the newarrivals, if there are any, when we go through the lobby. "

Mrs. Weatherbee started across the room, but at the table she stopped tobend over the bowl of violets, inhaling their fragrance. "Aren't theylovely and--prodigal enough to color whole fields?"

Elizabeth laughed. "Frederic must have ordered wholesale, or else heforgot they were in season. "

Beatriz lifted her face. "Did Mr. Morganstein send these violets?" sheasked. "I thought--but there was no card. "

"Why, I don't know, " said Elizabeth, "but who else would have orderedwhole fields of them?"

Mrs. Weatherbee was silent, but she smiled a little as she followedElizabeth from the room. When they reached the foot of the staircase, thelobby was nearly deserted; if the train had left any guests, they had beenshown already to their rooms. 

The Morganstein table was at the farther end of the dining-room, butFrederic, who was watching the door when the young women entered, at oncenoticed the violets at Mrs. Weatherbee's belt. 

"Must have been sent from Seattle on that last eastbound, " he commented, frowning. "Say, Marcia, why didn't you remind me to order some flowersfrom town?"

Marcia's calculating eyes followed his gaze. "You would not haveremembered she is fond of violets, and they seem specially made for her;you would have ordered unusual orchids or imported azaleas. "

Frederic laughed uneasily, and a purplish flush deepened in his cheeks. "Ialways figure the best is never too good for her. Not that the highestpriced makes so much difference with her. Look at her, now, will you?Wouldn't you think, the way she carries herself, that little gray gown wasa coronation robe? George, but she is game! Acts like she expects LuckyBanks to drop in with a clear fifty thousand, when the chances are he'sgone back on his ten. Well, " he said, rising as she approached, to drawout her chair, "what do you think about your customer now? Too bad. I betyou've spent his Alaska dust in anticipation a hundred times over. Don'tdeny it, " he held up his heavy hand in playful warning as he resumed hischair. "Speculated some myself on what you'd do with it. George, I'd liketo see the reins in your hands for once, and watch you go. You'd set us apace; break all records. "

"Oh, no, no, " she expostulated in evident distress. "I shouldn't care to--set the pace--if I were to come into a kingdom; please don't think that. Ihave wanted to keep up, I admit; to hold my own. I have been miserablyafraid sometimes of being left behind, alone, crowded out, beaten. "

"Beaten? You? I guess not. Bet anybody ten to one you'll be in at thefinish, I don't care who's in the field, even if you drop in your tracesnext minute. And I bet if this sale does fall through to-night, you'll belooking up, high as ever, to-morrow, setting your heart on something elseout of reach. "

"Out of reach?" she responded evenly, arching her brows. "You surprise me. You have led me to believe I am easy to please. "

"So you are, " he capitulated instantly, "in most ways. All the same, youcarry the ambitions of a duchess buttoned under that gray gown. But I likeyou for it; like you so well I'm going to catch myself taking thatproperty off your hands, if Banks goes back on you. "

He leaned towards her as he said this, smiling and trying to hold herglance, but she turned her face and looked off obliviously across theroom. There were moments when even Frederic Morganstein was conscious ofthe indefinable barrier beyond which lay intrenched, an untried andrepelling force. He straightened and, following her gaze, saw Lucky Banksenter the door. 

Involuntarily Elizabeth started, and Mrs. Feversham caught a quick breath. "At the eleventh hour, " she said then, and her eyes met her brother's. "Yes or no?" they telegraphed. 

It was the popular hour, an orchestra was playing, and the tables werewell filled, but the mining man, marshalled by a tall and important headwaitress, drew himself straight and with soldierly precision came down theroom as far as the Morganstein group. There, recognizing Mrs. Weatherbee, he stopped and, with the maimed hand behind him, made his short, swiftbow. "I guess likely you gave me up, " he said in his high key, "but Iwaited long's I dared for the through train. She's been snowed under threedays in the Rockies. They had her due at Wenatchee by two-fifteen; then itwas put off to five, and when the local came along, I thought I might aswell take her. "

Mrs. Weatherbee, who had started to rise, settled back in her chair with asmile. "I had given you up, Mr. Banks, " she said not quite steadily. 

Then Morganstein said: "How do, Banks, " and offered his hand. "Just intime to join us. Ordered saddle of Yakima lamb, first on the market, dressing of fine herbs, for the crowd. Suits you, doesn't it?"

To which the little prospector responded: "My, yes, first class, but Idon't want to put you out. "

"You won't, " Frederic chuckled; "couldn't do it if you tried. "

But it was Elizabeth who rose to make room for the extra chair on her sideof the table, and who inquired presently after his wife. 

"Mrs. Banks is fine, " he answered, his bleak face glowing. "My, yes, seemslike she makes a better showing now than she did at the Corners sevenyears back. "

"Still driving those bays?" asked Frederic. 

The mining man nodded with reluctance. "It's no use to try to get her tolet 'em alone long's they are on the place, and I couldn't sneak 'em away;she was always watching around. She thinks Tisdale will likely sell whenhe sees she can manage the team. "

"So, " laughed Morganstein, "you'll have to come up with that Christmaspresent, after all. "

"They will do for her birthday, " replied Banks gravely. "I picked out anew ring for Christmas. It was a first-class diamond, and she liked it allright. She said, " and a shade of humor warmed his face, "she would have topatronize the new manicure store down to Wenatchee, if I expected her tohave hands fit to wear it, and if she had to live up to that ring, itwould cost me something before she was through. "

"And did she try the parlors?" asked Elizabeth seriously. 

"My, yes, and it was worth the money. Her hands made a mighty fine showingthe first trip, and before she used up her ticket, I was telling her she'dhave to wear mittens when she played the old melodion, or likely herfingers would get hurt hitting the keys. "

Banks laughed his high, strained laugh, and Morganstein echoed it deeply. "Ought to have an establishment in the new town, " he said. 

"We are going to, " the prospector replied; "as soon as the new brick blockis ready to open up. There's going to be manicure and hair-dressingparlors back of the millinery store. Lucile, Miss Lucile Purdy ofSedgewick-Wilson's, is coming over to run 'em both. She can do it, my, yes. "

"Now I can believe you have a self-respecting and wide-awake town, "commented Mrs. Feversham. "But is the big department store backing MissPurdy?"

"No, ma'am. We ain't talking about it much, but Mrs. Banks has put upmoney; she says she is the silent partner of the concern. "

"Is that so?" questioned Morganstein thoughtfully. "Seems to me you arebanking rather heavy on the new town. "

Banks' eyes gleamed appreciation, but the capitalist missed hisinadvertent pun. After a moment, the mining man said: "I guess themillinery investment won't break us; but there's no question aboutWeatherbee's being a live town, and Lucile can sell goods. "

"I presume next, " said Mrs. Feversham with veiled irony, "we shall behearing of you as the first mayor of Weatherbee. "

Banks shook his head gravely. "They shouldered that on to HendersonBailey. "

"I remember, " said Frederic. "Man who started the orchard excitement, wasn't he? Got in on the ground floor and platted some of his land in citylots. Naturally, he's running for mayor. "

"He's it, " responded the mining man. "The election came off Tuesday, andhe led his ticket, my, yes, clear out of sight. "

"Bet you ran for something, though, " responded Morganstein. "Bet they hadyou up for treasurer. "

Banks laughed. "There was some talk of it--my wife said they were lookingfor somebody that could make good if the city money fell short--but mostof the bunch thought my lay was the Board of Control. You see, I got tolooking after things to help Bailey out, while he was busy moving hisapples or maybe his city lots. My, it got so's when Mrs. Banks couldn'tfind me down to the city park, watching the men grub out sage-brush forthe new trees, she could count on my being up-stream to the water-works, or hiking out to the lighting-plant. It's kept me rushed, all right. Ittakes time to start a first-class town. It has to be done straight frombedrock. But now that Annabel's house up Hesperides Vale is built, and theflumes are in, she thinks likely she can run her ranch, and I thinklikely, "--the prospector paused, and his eyes, with their gleam of blueglacier ice, sought Mrs. Weatherbee's. Hers clouded a little, and sheleaned slightly towards him, waiting with hushed breath--"I think likely, "he repeated in a higher key, "seeing's the Alameda has to be finished up, and the fountain got in shape at the park, with the statue about due fromNew York, I may as well drop Dave's project and call the deal off. "

There was a silence, during which the eyes of every one rested on Beatriz. She straightened with a great sigh; the color rushed coral-pink to herface. 

"I am--sorry--about your loss, Mr. Banks, " she said, then, and her voicefluctuated softly, "but I shall do my best--I shall make it a point ofhonor--to sometime reimburse you. " Her glance fell to the violets at herbelt; she singled one from the rest and, inhaling its perfume, held itlightly to her lips. 

"You thoroughbred!" said Frederic thickly. 

CHAPTER XXVI

THE EVERLASTING DOOR

Sometime during the night of the fifteenth, the belated Chinook wind beganto flute through the canyon, and towards dawn the guests at Scenic HotSprings were wakened by the near thunder of an avalanche. After a while, word was brought that the Great Northern track was buried under forty feetof snow and rock and fallen trees for a distance of nearly a mile. Later arotary steamed around the high curve on the mountain and stopped, like atoy engine on an upper shelf, while the Spokane local, upon which Bankshad expected to return to Weatherbee, forged a few miles beyond the hotelto leave a hundred laborers from Seattle. Thin wreaths of vapor commencedto rise and, gathering volume with incredible swiftness, blotted out theplow and the snow-sheds, and meeting, broke in a storm of hail. The cloudlifted, but in a short interval was followed by another that burst in adeluge of rain, and while the slope was still obscured, a report wastelegraphed from the summit that a second avalanche had closed the eastportal of Cascade tunnel, through which the Oriental Limited had justpassed. At nightfall, when the work of clearing away the first mass ofdebris was not yet completed, a third slide swept down seven laborers anddemolished a snow-shed. The unfortunate train that had been delayed solong in the Rockies was indefinitely stalled. 

The situation was unprecedented. Never before in the history of the GreatNorthern had there been so heavy a snowfall in the Cascades; the suddenthaw following an ordinary precipitation must have looked serious, but themoving of this vast accumulation became appalling. All through that day, the second night the cannonading of avalanches continued, distant andnear. At last came an interlude. The warm wind died out; at evening therewas a promise of frost; and only the voice of the river disturbed thegorge. Dawn broke still and crisp and clear. The mountain tops shone insplendor, purple cliffs stood sharply defined against snow-covered slopes, and whole companies in the lower ranks of the trees had thrown off theirwhite cloaks. It was a day to delight the soul, to rouse the heart, inviteto deeds of emulation. Even Frederic was responsive, and when afterbreakfast Marcia broached a plan to scale the peak that loomed southeastof the pass, he grasped at the diversion. "We're pretty high up already, here at Scenic, " he commented, surveying the dome from his chair on thehotel veranda. "Three or four thousand feet ought to put us on the summit. Have the chance, anyhow, to see that stalled train. "

"Of course it wouldn't be an achievement like the ascent of Rainier, " shetempered, "but we should have chances enough to use our alpenstocks beforewe're through; and it should be a magnificent view; all the great peaksfrom Oregon to British Columbia rising around. "

"With the Columbia River below us, " said Elizabeth, "and all those milesof desert. We might even catch a glimpse of your new Eden over there, Beatriz. "

Mrs. Weatherbee nodded, with the sparkles breaking in her eyes. "I knowthis is the peak we watched the day I drove from Wenatchee. It rose whiteand shining at the top of Hesperides Vale, and it may have another name, but I called it the Everlasting Door. "

Once since their arrival at Scenic Hot Springs they had followed, skeeing, an old abandoned railroad track, used by the Great Northern during theconstruction of the big tunnel, to the edge of the desired peak, and, atMarcia's suggestion, Frederic invited Lucky Banks to join the expeditionin the capacity of captain and guide. The prospector admitted he felt "theneed of a little exercise" and, having studied the mountain withfield-glasses and consulted with the hotel proprietor, he consented to seethem through. No doubt the opportunity to learn the situation of theOriental Limited and the possibilities of getting in touch with Tisdale, should the train fail to move before his return from the summit, hadinfluenced the little man's decision. A few spikes in his shoes, somehardtack and cheese with an emergency flask in his pockets, a coil of ropeand a small hatchet that might serve equally well as an ice-ax or to clearundergrowth on the lower slopes, was ample equipment, and he was off toreconnoiter the mountainside fully an hour in advance of the packer whomMorganstein engaged for the first stage of the journey. 

When the man arrived at the foot of the sharp ascent where he was to berelieved, Banks was finishing the piece of trail he had blazed and musheddiagonally up the slope to a rocky cleaver that stretched like a causewayfrom the timber to firm snow, but he returned with time to spare betweenthe departure of the packer and the appearance of his party, to open theunwieldy load; from this he discarded two bottles of claret and another ofport, with their wrappings of straw, a steamer-rug, some tins of pâté defoie gras and other sundries that made for weight, but which thecapitalist had considered essential to the comfort and success of theexpedition. There still remained a well-stocked hamper, including thermosbottles of coffee and tea, and a second rug, which he rolled snugly in theoilskin cover and secured with shoulder-straps. The eliminated articles, that he cached under a log, were not missed until luncheon, which wasserved on a high, spur below the summit while Banks was absent making alast reconnaissance, and Frederic blamed the packer. 

The spur was flanked above by a craggy buttress and broke below to anabyss which was divided by a narrow, tongue-like ridge, and over this, ona lower level of the opposite peak, appeared the steep roofs of themountain station at the entrance to Cascade tunnel, where, on the tracksoutside the portal, stood the stalled train. It seemed within speakingdistance in that rare atmosphere, though several miles intervened. 

After a while sounds of metal striking ice came from a point around thebuttress; Banks was cutting steps. Then, following a silence, he appeared. But, on coming into the sunny westward exposure, he stopped, and with twofingers raised like a weather-vane, stood gazing down the canyon. His eyesbegan to scintillate like chippings of blue glacier. 

Involuntarily every one turned in that direction, and Frederic reached totake his field-glasses from the shelf of the buttress they had convertedinto a table. But he saw nothing new to hold the attention except three orfour gauzy streamers of smoke or vapor that floated in the lower gorge. 

"Looks like a train starting up, " he commented, "but the Limited gets theright of way as soon as there's a clear track. "

Banks dropped his hand and moved a few steps to take the glasses fromMorganstein. "You're right, " he replied in his high, strained key. "Itain't any train moving; it's the Chinook waking up. " He focussed on theOriental Limited, then slowly swept the peak that overtopped the cars. "Likely they dasn't back her into the tunnel, " he said. "The bore is longenough to take in the whole bunch, but if a slide toppled off thatshoulder, it would pen 'em in and cut off the air. It looks betteroutside, my, yes. "

"Here is your coffee, Mr. Banks, " said Elizabeth, who had filled a cupfrom the thermos bottle, "and please take anything else you wish while Irepack the basket. We are all waiting, you see, to go on. "

The prospector paused to take the cup, then said: "I guess likely we won'tmake the summit this trip. We've got to hustle to get down before it turnssoft. "

"Oh, but we must make the summit, " exclaimed Marcia, taking up heralpenstock. "Why, we are all but there. "

"How does it look ahead?" inquired Frederic, walking along the buttress. "Heard you chopping ice. "

"I was cutting steps across the tail end of a little glacier. It's agliddery place, but the going looks all right once you get past. Well, likely you can make it, " he added shrilly, "but you've got to be quick. "

The life of the trail that sharpens a man's perceptives teaches him toread individuality swiftly, and this Alaskan who, the first day out on along stampede, could have told the dominant trait of each husky in histeam, knew his party as well as the risk. Golf and tennis, added to anaturally strong physique, had given the two sisters nerves of steel. Marcia, who had visited some of the great glaciers in the north, possessedthe insight and coolness of a mountain explorer; and all the third womanlacked in physical endurance was more than made up in courage. The man, though enervated by over-indulgence, had the brute force, the animalinstinct of self-preservation, to carry him through. So presently, whenthe buttress was passed, and the prospector uncoiled his rope, it was toMrs. Feversham he gave the other end, placing Morganstein next, withElizabeth at the center and Mrs. Weatherbee second. Once, twice, Banksfelt her stumble, a sinking weight on the line, but in the instant hecaught a twist in the slack and fixed his heels in the crust to turn, shehad, in each case, recovered and come steadily on. It was only when thegliddery passage was made, the peril behind, that she sank down inmomentary collapse. 

Banks stopped to unfold his pocket-cup and take out his flask. "You lookabout done for, " he said briskly. "My, yes, that little taste of glacierwas your limit. But you ain't the kind to back out. No, ma'am, all youneed is a little bracer to put you on your feet again, good as new. "

"I never can go back, " she said, and met his concerned look with wide andluminous eyes. "Unless--I'm carried. Never in the world. "

Morganstein forced a laugh. It had a frosty sound; his lips were blue. "Excuse me, " he responded. "Anywhere else I wouldn't hesitate, but here, Idraw the line. "

The prospector was holding the draught to her lips, and she took a swallowand pushed away the cup. It was brandy, raw, scalding, and it brought thecolor back to her face. "Thank you, " she said, and forced a smile. "It isbracing; my tensions are all screwed. I feel like climbing on to--Mars. "

Frederic laughed again. "You go on, Banks, " he said, relieving him of thecup; "she's all right. You hurry ahead before one of those girls walksover a precipice. "

He could not persuade her to take more of the liquor, so he himself drankthe bracer, after which he put the cup and the flask, which Banks hadleft, away in his own pockets. She was up, whipping down her fear. "Come, "she said, "we must hurry to overtake them. "

Her steps, unsteady at first, grew sure and determined; she drew longer, deeper breaths; the pink of a wild rose flushed her cheeks. But Frederic, plodding abreast, laid his hand on her arm. 

"See here, " he said, "you can't keep this up; stop a minute. They've gotto wait for us. George, that ambition of yours can spur you to the pace. Never saw so much spirit done up in a small package. Go off, sometime, like Fourth o' July fireworks. " He chuckled, looking down at her withadmiration in his round eyes. "Like you for it, though. George, it's justthat has made you worth waiting for. "

She gave him a quick glance and, setting her alpenstock, sprang from hisdetaining hand. 

"See, they have reached the summit, " she called. "They are waiting alreadyfor us. And see!" she exclaimed tensely, as he struggled after her. "It isgoing to be grand. "

A vast company of peaks began to lift, tier on tier like an amphitheater, above the rim of the dome, while far eastward, as they cross-cut therounding incline, stretched those tawny mountains that had the appearanceof strange and watchful beasts, guarding the levels of the desert, bare ofsnow. Glimpses there were of the blue Columbia, the racy Wenatchee, butWeatherbee's pocket was closed. Then, presently, as they gained thesummit, it was no longer an amphitheater into which they looked, but abillowing sea of cloud, out of which rose steep and inhospitable shores. Then, everywhere, far and away, shone opal-shaded islands of mystery. 

"Oh, " she said, with a little, sighing breath, "these are the Isles of theBlest. We have come through the Everlasting Door into the better country. "

She stood looking off in rapture, but the man saw only the changing lightsin her face. He turned a little, taking in the charm of pose, the lift ofchin, parted lips, hand shading softly shining eyes. After a moment heanswered: "Wish we had. Wish every other man you knew was left out, on theother side of the door. "

Her hand fell, she gave him her sweeping look and moved to join thewaiting group. 

Banks came to meet them. "We've stayed to the limit; my, yes, it's thelast call, " he explained in his tense key. "There's a couple of places wedon't want to see ourselves caught in when the thaw strikes. And they'regetting a heavy rain down at the Springs now; likely up at the tunnel it'ssnow or hail. " He paused, turning to send a final glance into the mist, then said: "Less than ten minutes ago I had a sight of that train, but yousee now she's wiped off the map. It'll be a close race, my, yes. Give methat stick, ma'am; you can make better time on the down-grade holding onto me. "

With this, he offered his able hand to Mrs. Weatherbee and, followed bythe rest of the party, helped her swiftly down the slope. But clearly hismind was on the stalled train. "Likely, hugging the mountainside, theydon't see how the snow crowds overhead, " he said. "And I'd ought to havetaken time to run over and give 'em a tip. I'm going to, I'm going to, soon's I get you down to that old railroad track where you can make italone. "

"Do you mean the Limited is in danger?" she asked, springing and trippingto his stride. 

And Banks nodded grimly. "Yes, ma'am. It's a hard proposition, even to aman like Tisdale, who is used to breaking his own trail. He knows he's gotto fight shy of the slides along that burned over switchback, but if hesaw the box that train is in, he would just hike around to this side ofthe canyon, where the pitches are shorter, and the green trees stand someshow to hold the snow, and work down to the old track to the Springs. "

"Is Mr. Tisdale"'--her voice broke a little--"Mr. Hollis Tisdale on thattrain?"

"Likely, yes. He was snowbound on her in the Rockies, last I heard, and'feeling fit as a moose. ' Being penned up so long, he'd likely rather takea hike down to the hotel than not. It would be good for his health. " Andthe little man piped his high, mirthless laugh. 

She stumbled, and he felt the hand in his tremble, but the abrupt inclineof the glacier had opened before them, and he believed she dreaded tore-cross the ice. "Keep cool, " he admonished, releasing her to uncoil therope again, "Stand steady. Just recollect if you came over this, you canget back. "

But when, presently, the difficult passage safely made, they rounded thecrag and gained the level shoulder where they had lunched, they seemed tohave arrived at a different place. The lower canyon, which not two hoursbefore had stretched into blue distance below them, was lost in thecreeping sea of cloud; the abyss at their feet gathered immensity, and thetop of the timbered ridge lifted midway like a strange, floating garden. The station at Cascade tunnel, all the opposite mountain, was obscured, then, while Banks stood re-coiling his rope, the sounds that had disturbedthe guests at Scenic Hot Springs those previous nights rose, reverberating, through the hidden gorge. The Chinook had resumed its work. 

The way below the spur broke in easy steps to the long and gradual slopethat terminated above the cleaver of rock and, anxious to reach theunfortunate train, Banks hurried on. Marcia and Elizabeth trailed quicklyafter, but Mrs. Weatherbee remained seated on the shelving ledge at thefoot of the crag. Frederic sank heavily into the place beside her and tookout the flask. 

"You are all in, " he said. "Come, take this; it's diluted this time withsnow. "

But she gave him no attention, except to push aside the cup. She waited, listening, leaning forward a little as though her wide eyes couldpenetrate the pall. Then, torn by cross currents of wind, the cloudparted, and the mountain loomed like a phantom peak over the gulf. Shestarted up and stood swaying gently on her feet while the trees, tall andspectral and cloaked in snow, opened rank on rank like a uniformedcompany. Lower still, the steep roofs of the station reflected a shaft ofthe sun, and the long line of cars appeared clearly defined, waiting stillon the tracks outside the portal. 

The rent in the cloud closed. She turned with a great, sighing breath. "Did you see?" she said. "The train is safe. "

"Of course. " And again, having himself taken the bracer, Frederic rose andreturned the flask to his pocket. "So, that was troubling you; thoughtthat train might have been struck. Guess if an avalanche had come downthere, we'd have heard some noise. It's safe enough here, " he added. "Topof this crag was built to shed snow like a church steeple. "

"But why are we waiting?" And glancing around, she exclaimed in dismay:"The others have gone. See! They are almost out of sight. "

She began to walk swiftly to the lower rim of the shoulder, and Fredericfollowed. Down the slope his sisters and Banks seemed to be moving througha film. They mingled with it indistinctly as the figures in fadedtapestry. But Morganstein laid his hand on her arm to detain her. "What'syour hurry?" he asked thickly. "All we got to do now is keep their trail. Tracks are clear as day. "

"We shall delay them; they will wait. "

She tried to pass him, but they had reached the step from the spur, and heswung around to block the narrow way. "Not yet, " he said. "This is themoment I've been waiting for. First time in months you've given me a fairchance to speak to you. Always headed me off. I'm tired of being held atarm's length. I've been patient to the limit. I'm going to know now, to-day, before we go down from this mountain, how soon you are going tomarry me. "

She tried again to pass him but, taking incautious footing, slipped, andhis arm saved her. "I don't care how soon it is, " he went on, "or where. Quietly at your apartments, or a big church wedding. On board the firstboat sailing for Yokohama, after those coal cases are settled, suits me. "

She struggled to free herself, then managed to turn and face him, with herpalms braced against his breast. His arm relaxed a little, so that he wasable to look down in her lifted face. What he saw there was not altogetheranger, though aversion was in her eyes; not surprise, not wholly derision, though her lips suggested a smile, but an indefinable something thatbaffled, mastered him. His arm fell. "Japan is fine in the spring, " hesaid. "And we could take our time, coming back by way of Hawaii to see thebig volcano, with another stop-over at Manila. Get home to beginhousekeeping at the villa in midsummer. "

"Oh, " she exclaimed at last, "do you think I am a silly girl to be dazzledand tempted? Who knows nothing of marriage and the cost?"

"No, " he responded quickly. "I think you are a mighty clever woman. Butyou've got to the point where you can't hedge any more. Banks has goneback on that option. If he won't buy, nobody else will. And it takes readymoney to run a big ranch like that, even after the improvements are in. You can't realize on your orchards, even in the Wenatchee country, shortof four years. So you'll have to marry me; only way out. "

She gave him her swift, sweeping look, and the blue lights blazed in hereyes. "I will remember you are Elizabeth's brother, " she said. "I will tryto remember that. But please don't say any more. Every moment counts;come. "

Morganstein laughed. As long as she parried, as long as she did not refuseoutright to marry him, he must keep reasonably cool. He stooped to pick upthe alpenstock she had dropped, then offered his hand down the step fromthe spur. "Sorry I put it just that way, " he said. "I'm a plain businessman; used to coming straight to the point; but I guess you've known howmuch I thought of you all these years. Had to keep on a high check-reinwhile Weatherbee lived, and tried my best, afterwards, to give him ayear's grace, but you knew just the same. Know--don't you?--I might takemy pick out of the dozen nicest girls in Seattle to-day. Only have to saythe word. Not one in the bunch would turn me down. But I wouldn't have oneof 'em for second choice. Nobody but you will do. " He paused, then addedwith his narrow look: "And what I want, you ought to know that too, Iget. "

She met the look with a shake of the head and forced a smile. "Some thingsare not to be bought at any price. But, of course, I have seen--a womandoes--" she went on hurriedly, withdrawing her hand. "There was a time, Iconfess, when I did consider--your way out. But I dared not take it; eventhen, I dared not. "

"You dared not?" Frederic laughed again. "Never thought you were afraid ofme. Never saw you afraid of anything. But I see. Miserable experience withWeatherbee made you little cautious. George, don't see how any man couldhave deserted you. Trust me to make it up to you. Marry me, and I'll showyou such a good time Weatherbee won't amount to a bad dream. "

"I do not wish to forget David Weatherbee, " she said. 

"George!" he exclaimed curiously. "Do you mean you ever really loved him?A man who left you, practically without a cent, before you were married amonth. "

"No. " Her voice was low; her lip trembled a little. "No, I did not lovehim--as he deserved; as I was able to love. " She paused, then went on withdecision: "But he did not leave me unprovided for. David Weatherbee neverdeserted me. And, even though he had, though he had been the kind of man Ibelieved him to be, it would make no difference. I could not marry you. "

There was a silence during which they continued to follow the tracks thatcross-cut the slope. But Morganstein's face was not pleasant to see. Allthe complaisancy of the egotist who has long and successfully shaped livesto his own ends was withdrawn; it left exposed the ugly inner side of theman. The trail was becoming soft; the damp of the Chinook began to envelopthem; already the advancing film stretched like a curtain over the sun, and the three figures that had seemed parts of a shaken tapestrydisappeared. Then, presently, Banks' voice, muffled like a voice under ablanket, rose through the pall. And Frederic stopped to put his hand tohis mouth. "All right! Coming!" he answered, but the shout rebounded asthough it had struck a sounding board. 

After another plodding silence, the prospector's hail reached them again. It seemed farther off, and this time Morganstein did not respond. Hestopped, however, and the woman beside him waited in expectation. "Suppose, " he said slowly, "we are lost on this mountain to-night. Make adifference to-morrow--wouldn't it?--whether you would marry me or not. "

The color rushed to her face and went; her breast rose and fell in deep, quick breaths, but she met his look fearlessly, lifting herself with theswaying movement from the balls of her feet that made her suddenly taller. "No. " And her tone, the way in which she said it, must have stung even hissmall soul; then she added: "You are more brutal than I thought. "

She turned after that and herself sent the belated response to Banks. Butthough she repeated the call twice, making a trumpet of her hands and withall the power of her voice, his hail did not reach them again. She startedswiftly down. It was beginning to snow. 

Frederic had nothing more to say. He moved on with her. It was as thougheach tried to out-travel the other, still they could not make up thatdelay. The snow fell in big, soft flakes that blurred the tracks theyfollowed; soon they were completely blotted out, and though he strainedhis eyes continually, watching for the cleaver of rock they had climbedthat morning, the landmark never appeared. Finally, at the same instant, they both stopped, listening. On the silence broke innumerable smallsounds like many little hurrying feet. The mountain trembled slightly. "God Almighty!" he cried thickly. Then came the closer rush of aconsiderable body, not unlike sheep passing in a fog, and panic seizedhim. "We've got to keep on top, " he shouted and, grasping her arm, heswung her around and began to run back up the slope. 

In the face of this common peril, personality called a truce, and shepushed on with him blindly, leaving it to him to choose the way and setthe pace. But their own tracks down the incline had filled with incredibleswiftness; soon they were completely effaced. And, when the noisesubsided, he stopped and looked about him, bewildered. He saw nothing buta breadth of sharply dipping slope, white, smooth as an unwritten scroll, over which hung the swaying, voluminous veil of the falling snow. He puthis hands to his mouth then, and lifted his voice in a great hail. Itbrought no reply, but in the moment he waited, somewhere far below inthose obscured depths, a great tree, splitting under tremendous pressure, crashed down, then quickly the terrific sweep and roar of a secondmightier avalanche filled the hidden gorge. 

Morganstein caught her arm once more. "We must get back to that shoulderwhere it's safe, " he shouted. "Banks will come to look us up. " After that, as they struggled on up the slope, he fell to saying over and over, aslong as the reverberations lasted: "Almighty God!"

As they ascended, the snow fell less heavily and finally ceased. It becamefirm underfoot, and a cross wind, starting in puffs, struck their facessharply with a promise of frost. Then strange hummocks began to rise. Theywere upheavals of ice, shrouded in snow. Sometimes a higher one presenteda sheer front shading to bluish-green. They had not passed this point withBanks, but Morganstein shaped a course to a black pinnacle, liftingthrough the mist beyond, that he believed was the crag at the shoulder. She stumbled repeatedly on the rough surface. Her labored breathing in thegreat stillness, like the beat of a pendulum in an empty house, tried hisstrained nerves. He upbraided her for leaving her alpenstock down theslope. But she paid no attention. She looked back constantly; she was likea woman being led away from a locked door, moving reluctantly, listeningagainst hope for a word or sign. So, at last, they came to the rock. Itwas not the crag, but a hanging promontory, where the mountain broke in athree-sided precipice. The cloud surged around it like an unplumbed sea. 

They crept back, and Morganstein tried again to determine their position. They were too high, he concluded; they must work down a little to roundthe cliffs, so they took a course diagonally into the smother. Then he, too, began to lose alertness; he walked mechanically, taking the line ofleast resistance; his head sagged forward; he saw nothing but the hummocksbefore him. These grew larger; they changed to narrow ridges with fissuresbetween. After a while, one of these breaks roused him. It was exceedinglydeep; he could not see either end of it. The only way was to leap, and hedid it clumsily. Then, with his alpenstock fixed, and his spiked heels setin the crust, he reached a hand to her. She was barely able to spring tothe lower side, but it did not terrify her. One fear only possessed her. Her glance, seeking, returned to the hidden canyon. But soon they wereconfronted by a wider and still deeper chasm. It was impossible to crossit, though it seemed to narrow upwards in the direction of the summit. Hetook her arm and began to ascend, looking for a way over. The pitch grewsteadily sharper. They entered the thinning edge of the cloud, and itbecame transparent like tissue of gold. Suddenly it parted, and Fredericstopped, blinded by the blaze of a red sunset on snow. He closed his eyesan instant, while, to avoid the glare, he turned his face. His firstglance shocked him into a sense of great peril. The two fissures ranparallel, and they were ascending a tongue of ice between. Not far below, it narrowed to a point where the two crevasses, uniting, yawned in one. His knees weakened, but he managed to swing himself cautiously around. Thecauseway seemed to rock under his weight; then, shading his sight with hishand, he saw they were almost beneath the shoulder he had tried to reach. They had climbed too high, as he had believed, but also they had descendedtoo far. And they had come directly down the glacier, to cross the upperend of which Banks had found it necessary to use a lifeline. "Be careful!"he whispered thickly, and laid his hand on her shoulder, impelling her on. "Be careful, but, for God's sake, hurry!"

He crowded her faster and faster up the incline; he dared not moveabreast, it was so narrow. Sometimes he lifted her bodily, for with everystep his panic grew. Beads of moisture gathered on his face, though thewind stiffened and sharpened; his own breath out-labored hers, and hecried again over and over: "God Almighty!" and "Almighty God!" Sometimeshis tone was blasphemy and sometimes prayer. 

But the moment came when she could not be farther pressed. Her shouldertrembled under his hold, her limbs gave, and she sank down, to her kneesat first, then to her elbow. Even then she moved her head enough to lookbackward over the abyss. "The train, " she whispered and, shuddering, dropped her face on her relaxed arm. 

Morganstein ventured to glance back. Ragged fragments torn from the cloudbelow rose swirling across the opposite mountain top, and between theiredges, like a picture in a frame, appeared briefly the roofs of the littlestation. But where the Oriental Limited had stood, the avalanche hadpassed. "God Almighty!" he repeated impotently, then immediately the senseof this appalling catastrophe whet the edge of his personal terror. "Come!" he cried; "come, you can't stop here. It's dangerous. Come, you'llfreeze--or worse. "

She was silent. She made no effort to rise or indeed to move. He began topress by her and on in the direction of that safe spur. But presentlyanother dread assailed him; the dread of the city-bred man--accustomed tohuman intercourse, the swing of business, the stir of social life, to facegreat solitudes alone. This cross-fear became so strong it turned him backin a second panic. Then floundering to keep his equilibrium after anincautious step, he sat down heavily and found himself skidding towardsthe larger crevasse. He lifted his alpenstock and in a frenzy thrust itinto the ice between his knees. It caught fast just short of the brinkand held him astride, with heels dangling over the abyss. He worked awaycautiously, laboriously, shaking in all his big, soft bulk; and would havegiven up further attempt to rescue Beatriz Weatherbee had he not at thismoment discovered himself at her side. 

He had not yet tried to rise to his feet, so safe-guarding himself withthe alpenstock thrust once more in the ice, he paused to take the flaskfrom his pocket and poured all that remained of the liquor into the cup. It was a little over half full. Possibly he remembered how lavish he hadbeen with those previous draughts, for he looked at his companion with akind of regret as he lifted the cup unsteadily to drink. Then, gatheringthe remnants of his courage, he put his arm under her head, raising itwhile he forced the small surplus of brandy he had left between her lips. She revived enough under the scalding swallow to push the cup away. Anywhere else he would have laughed at her feeble effort to throw off histouch; but he did not urge her to finish the draught, and, as he had doneearlier that day, himself hastily drained the cup. He dropped it besidethe empty flask and struggled up. 

"Now, " he said, "we've got to make that spur where it's safe. Come. Itisn't far; just been up to that place where Banks helped us across; had tocome back for you. "

But he was obliged to lift her to her feet and to support her up theslope. And this, even though the tongue widened above them, threw himperilously close to the crevasse. Once, twice, the ice broke on the brinkand dropped clinking down, down. It was impossible to make the leap againto the higher surface they had descended; unhampered, he must have beenphysically unfit. Behind them the cloud closed over the Pass and themountain top under which the Oriental Limited had stood. His companion nolonger looked back; she moved as mechanically though less certainly thanone who walks in sleep. The fears that possessed him, that she herself hadheld so finely in check when they had followed Banks on this glacier, didnot trouble her now. Her indifference to their extremity began to play onFrederic's unhinged nerves. This white, blue-lipped woman was not theBeatriz Weatherbee he had known; who had climbed the slope with him thatmorning, all exhilaration, spirit, charm; whose example had challenged hisendurance and held his courage to the sticking point. 

"Why don't you say something?" he complained. "Have you turned into ice?Now look where you step, can't you? Deuced fix you got us into, dreamingthere in the clouds, when Lucky Banks had left the spur. Come on, youbloodless ghost; come, or I'll let you stay where you drop. Nice place tospend the night in. Almighty God!"

So, upbraiding her when she stumbled, blaming her for their plight, threatening to leave her if she should fall, and flaying himself on withrenewed panic, he brought her to the top of the double crevasse and theprospector's crossing. But here, with the levels of the spur before them, her strength reached low ebb. This time he was not able to rouse her, andhe threw down his alpenstock and took her in his arms, and went slippingand recovering the remaining steps. He stopped, winded, and stood her onher feet, but her body sagged limply against him, and the sight of herstill face terrified him. He carried her a little farther, to the shelterof the crag, and laid her there. Then he dropped to his knees beside her, and grasping her shoulders shook her, at first slowly, then swiftly, withthe roughness of despair. 

"Wake up, " he cried thickly. "Wake up! Don't you see we're out of thathole? Come, Banks will be here any minute. Come, wake up. "

She made no response. The sun had set; it was growing bitterly cold, andthere was little protection under the crag. It was a place where crosswinds met. Torn fragments from the sea of cloud below drove against thepinnacle. It was like a lofty headland breasting rolling surf. Fredericstood erect and sent his voice down through the smother in a great shout. It brought no answer, and he settled helplessly on the shelf beside her. It began to hail furiously, and he dropped his face, shielding it in hisarms. 

The storm passed and, rousing himself, he searched his pockets vainly fora match to light his remaining cigar. Later he went through them again, hoping to find a piece of chocolate--he had carried some that morning--butthis, too, was without result. He fell to cursing the packer, forappropriating the port and tinned things that were missing at lunch-time. But after that he did not talk any more and, in a little while, hestretched himself beside the unconscious figure at the foot of the crag. Asecond cloud lifted in a flurry of snow. Every hidden canyon sent outinnumerable currents of air, and gales, meeting, lifted the powdery crustin swirls, wrapping them in a white sheet. Finally, from far off, minglingwith the skirling pipes of the wind came a different, human sound. And, presently, when the call--if call it was--was repeated, the man sat up andlooked dully around. But he made no effort to reply. He waited, listeningstupidly, and the cry did not reach him again. Then, his glance falling tothe woman, a ray of intelligence leaped in his eyes. He rose on his kneesand moved her so there was room for his own bulk between her body and therock. He had then, when he stretched himself on the snow, a windbreak. 

The wind rushed screaming into the vast spaces beyond the mountain top, and returning, met the opposing forces from the canyon and instantlybecame a whirlwind. It cut like myriads of teeth; it struck two-edged withthe swish, slash of a sword; and it lifted the advancing cloud in a mightyswirl, bellied it as though it had been a gigantic sail, and shook fromits folds a deluge of hailstones followed by snow. Through it all agrotesque shape that seemed sometimes a huge, abnormal beetle andsometimes a beast, worked slowly around the crag, now crawling, nowrearing upright with a futile napping of stiff wings, towards the twohuman figures. It was Lucky Banks, come to rescue them. 

A heavier blast threw him on his face, but he rose to his knees and, creeping close, squared his shoulders to protect the slighter body. At thesame time the significance of the position of Morganstein's unconsciousbulk struck him. "You rat!" he cried with smothered fury. "You damnrat!"

Then he caught up a handful of snow with which he began to rub the woman'sface. Afterwards he removed her gloves to manipulate her cold hands. Heworked swiftly, with the deftness of practice, but the results were slow, and presently he took the rug from the pack he carried and covered herwhile he felt in Frederic's pockets for the flask he had neglected toreturn. "Likely there wasn't a drop left when she came to need it, youbrute. And I'd like to leave you here to take your chances. You can thankyour luck I've got to use you. "

Banks keyed his voice high, between breaths, to out-scale the wind, but hedid not wait for a reply. Before he finished speaking, he had opened hisbig, keen-bladed clasp-knife and commenced to cut broad strips from therug. He passed some of these, not without effort, under Morganstein'sbody, trussing the arms. Then, wrapping the smaller figure snugly in theblanket, he lifted it on to the human toboggan he had made and bound itsecurely. Finally he converted the shoulder-straps of his pack into a sortof steering gear, to which he fastened his life-line. 

These preparations had been quickly made. It was not yet dark when heworked this sled over the rim of the spur and began to descend the longslope. The violence of the wind was broken there, so that he was able totravel erect, drawing his load. After a while, when the flurry of snow hadpassed, a crust formed on the surface, and in steeper pitches he wasobliged to let the toboggan forge ahead, using himself as a drag. With thechange to colder temperature, there was no further danger of slides, andto avoid the avalanche that had turned Morganstein back, the prospectorshaped his course more directly into the canyon. Soon he was below theclouds; between their ragged edges a few stars appeared. Beyond a buttressshone a ruddy illumination. Some firs stood against it darkly. It was thefire Marcia and Elizabeth were watching at the place where he had cachedthe surplus supplies that morning. It served as a beacon when thecrispness ceased, and for an interval he was forced to mush laboriouslythrough soft drifts. Then he came to a first bare spot. It was in crossingthis rough ground that Frederic showed signs of returning consciousness. But Banks gave him no attention. He had caught a strange sound on thewind. Others, far off, rose while he listened. Presently, looking backbeyond the end of the ridge that divided the upper gorge, he saw twinklinglights. They were the lanterns of the searchers at the wrecked train. 

The little man did not exclaim. He did not pray. His was the anguish ofsoul which finds no expression. 

CHAPTER XXVII

KISMET. AN ACT OF GOD

Afterwards, some who compared the slope where the Oriental Limited hadstood, with the terrible pitches along the lower switchback, said: "It wasFate;" and the defense in the damage suits against the Great Northern, which were decided in favor of the company, called that catastrophe atCascade tunnel "An Act of God. " In either solution, the fact that countedwas that no avalanche had occurred at this point before; mountain men hadregarded it as absolutely safe. At noon that day, a rumor reached thestalled train that a slide at the front had struck one of the rotaries. Laborers, at their own peril, had excavated the crew, but the plow was outof commission, and the track was buried sixty feet under fresh tons ofsnow and rock and fallen timber. The Limited could not move withinforty-eight hours, perhaps three days. 

Tisdale picked up his bag and went out to the observation platform. Heknew that to attempt to follow the railroad through those swaths theavalanches had left, under the burned skeletons of trees ready to toppleat the first pressure of other bodies of snow, was to take one's lifeneedlessly in his hands; but there was another way. The slope from thetrack at the portal dipped through a park of hemlock and fir, and theblaze that had swept the lower mountainside had not reached this timber;the great boughs, like fishers' nets, supported their drippingaccumulations. Also, at this altitude, there was no undergrowth. To makethe drop directly into the canyon and follow the river down to Scenic HotSprings meant little more to him than a bracing tramp of a few hours. 

Snowshoes were a necessity, and the demand at the little station had longexceeded the supply, but the operator was able to furnish the length ofbale rope Tisdale asked of him. From the office door, where he hadcuriously followed to see the line put to use, he watched the travelersecure two pliable branches of hemlock, of the same size, which he broughtto the station platform, and, having stripped them of needles, bent intoovals. Then, laying aside one, he commenced to weave half of the ropenet-wise, filling the space in the frame he held. A sudden intelligenceleaped in the agent's face. "That's simple enough, " he exclaimed. "Andthey'll carry you as far as you want to go. "

Tisdale smiled, nodding, and picked up the remaining frame. 

"Strange I never saw any one try the scheme before, " the operatorcommented. "I've weathered a good many blockades up here; seen lots offellows, men whose time was money, bucking it out to open track. But I betthe first time this idea struck you you were up against it. I bet it's ayarn worth listening to. "

Tisdale glanced up; the genial lines deepened. "It was a situation toclear a man's head. There was snow from three to seven feet deep ahead ofme and going soft. My snowshoes, lost with the outfit at a hole in a Yukoncrossing, were swinging down-stream under the ice. I had two sea biscuitin my pocket and a few inches of dried venison, with the nearestroad-house over fifty miles away. "

"Well, that was hard luck, " the agent shook his head gravely. 

"It was the best kind of luck, " responded Tisdale quickly, "to find myselfwith that rope in my hands and a nice little spruce on the bank to supplyframes enough for a regiment. I was rigging a kind of derrick to ease mysled up the sharp pitch from the crossing. "

"I see, " said the operator thoughtfully, "and the sled broke through. Lostit and the outfit. But your dogs--saved them, didn't you?"

"All but two. " Tisdale's brows contracted. "They were dragged under theice before I could cut the traces. There was leather enough on the leadersto bind those shoes on, but"--and the humorous lines deepened again--"acouple of straps, from an old suitcase, if you happen to have one, wouldbe an improvement. "

The operator hurried into the office and, after a vigorous search amongthe miscellaneous articles stored under his desk, found an old valise, from which he detached the desired straps. Tisdale adjusted the improvisedshoes. "I will send them back by a brakeman from Scenic Springs, " he said, rising from his seat on the edge of the platform. "You can keep them for apattern. "

"All right, " the operator laughed. "If you do, I'll have to lay in a stockof bale rope. "

It was beginning to snow again, big, soft flakes, and the wind, skimmingthe drifts, speedily filled the broad, light rings Tisdale left in hiswake. A passenger with a baby in his arms stood on the observationplatform, and the child held out its mittened hands to him, crowing, withlittle springs. They had formed an acquaintance during the delay in theRockies, which had grown to intimacy in the Cascades, and Hollis slippedthe carrying strap of his bag over his shoulder and stopped to toss him asnowball, before he turned from the track. "Good-by, Joey, " he said. "I amcoming back for you if there's a chance. "

The operator, shivering, closed the door. "Never saw such a man, " hecommented. "But if he's lived in Alaska, a Cascade blizzard would just bea light breeze to him. " He paused to put a huge stick of wood in thestove, then, after the habit of solitary humanity, resumed his soliloquy. "I bet he's seen life. I bet, whoever he is, he's somewheres near the topof the ladder. I bet, in a bunch of men, he does the thinking. And I betwhat he wants, I don't care what's piled in his way, he gets. "

As he descended, the trees closed behind Tisdale, rank on rank, and wereenveloped in the swaying curtain of the snow. Always a certain numbersurrounded him; they seemed to march with him like a bodyguard. But he wasoblivious of the peril that from the higher peak had appeared so imminentto Lucky Banks. When the snow-cloud lifted, the Pass was still completelyveiled from him, and the peak the prospector's party had ascended was thencut off by the intervening ridge. He had crossed the headwaters and wasworking along this slope down the watercourse, when the noise of the firstavalanche startled the gorge. A little later a far shout came to his quickear. He answered, but when another call reached him from a differentpoint, high up beyond the ridge, he was silent. He knew a company, separated in the neighborhood of the slide, was trying to get intocommunication. Then, in the interval that he waited, listening, began theominous roar of the mightier cataclysm. The mountain he had descendedseemed to heave; its front gave way; the ridge on which he stood trembledat the concussion. 

Instantly, before the clamor ceased and the first cries reached him, Tisdale knew what had occurred. His sense of location told him. Then thefact was pressed on him that some on the unfortunate train still survived. He saw that the course he had taken from the west portal was no longerpossible, but by keeping the curve of the ridge which joined the mountainslope and formed the top of the gorge, and by working upward, he should beable to gain the upper edge of the slide where rose the human sounds. Hetook this way. His shoulder, turned a little, met the lower boughs withthe dip and push of the practiced woodsman, and even on the up-grade thedistance fell behind him swiftly. Always subconsciously, as he moved, hesaw that baby crowing him a good-by, and the young father smiling Godspeedfrom the observation platform; sometimes the girl mother with tender browneyes watched him from the background. Suppose their coach, which haddirectly preceded the observation car, had escaped; the snow-cloud, parting on the mountain top, showed that the roofs of the station stillremained. 

After a while he noticed two men working downward from the portal alongthe swath of the avalanche. One, he conjectured, was the operator, butthey stopped some distance above him and commenced to remove sections ofthe débris. Then Hollis saw before him some brilliant spots on the snow. They proved to be only pieces of stained glass from a shattered transom. The side of the car with denuded window casings rested a few feet higher, and a corner of the top of the coach protruded from under the fallenskeleton of a fir. The voices now seemed all around him. Somewhere a manwas shouting "Help!" Another groaned, cursing, and, deeper in thewreckage, rose a woman's muffled, continuous screaming. But, nearer thanthe rest, a child was crying piteously. He reached the intact portion ofthe crushed roof and found the baby sitting unhurt on a clear breadth ofsnow. The body of the father was pinned hopelessly beneath the tree, andthe mother lay under the fragment of roof, an iron bar on her tender eyes. It was as though Destiny, having destroyed them, whimsically threw acharmed circle around this remaining atom of the family. 

"Well, Joey, " Tisdale said quietly, "I've come back for you. "

Instantly the child stopped crying and turned to listen; then, seeingTisdale, he began to crow, rocking his little body and catching uphandsful of snow to demonstrate his delight. The hands and round bud of amouth were blue. 

"Cold, isn't it, Joey?" And he took the baby in his arms. "We can't findyour coat and mittens, but here is a nice blanket. "

He stooped, as he spoke, and pulled the blanket from under a broken door, and the child nestled its face in his neck, telling him in expressive, complaining sounds the story of his terror and discomfort. 

A man burrowed out of the snow above the log. His leg was injured, but hebegan to creep, dragging it, in the direction of the woman's voice. "I'mcoming, Mary, " he cried. "For God's sake, stop. "

Tisdale picked up a strip from the broken door and hurried to his aid. Heput the child down and used the board as a shovel, and Joey, watching fromthe peephole in his blanket, laughed and crowed again. Up the slope theoperator and his companion had extricated a brakeman, who, forgetting hisown injuries, joined the little force of rescuers. 

At last the cries ceased. Haste was no longer imperative. The remainingcoaches were buried under tons of snow and debris. Weeks of labor, withrelays of men, might not reach them all. And it was time to let theoutside world know. The telephone lines were down, the telegraph out ofcommission, and Tisdale, with the baby to bear him company, started tocarry the news to Scenic Hot Springs. 

It had grown very cold when he rounded the top of the gorge. The arrestedthaw hung in myriads of small icicles on every bough; they changed torubies when the late sun blazed out briefly; the trees seemed strung withgems; the winds that gathered on the high dome above the upper canyonrushed across the summit of the ridge. They fluted every pipe, and, asthough it were an enchanted forest, all the small pendants on all thebranches changed to striking cymbals and silver bells. The baby slept aswarm and safe in his blanket as though he had not left his mother's arms. 

Once there came a momentary lull, and on the silence, far off--so far itseemed hardly more than a human breath drifting with the lighter currentthat still set towards him from the loftier peak--Tisdale heard some onecalling him. His pulses missed their beat and raced on at fever heat. Hebelieved, in that halting instant, it was Beatriz Weatherbee. Then thegale, making up for the pause, swept down in fury, and he hurried underthe shelter of the ridge with the child. He told himself there had been novoice; it was an illusion. That the catastrophe, following so closely onhis illness, had unhinged him a little. The Morganstein party haddoubtless returned to Seattle at the beginning of the thaw; and even hadMrs. Weatherbee remained at Scenic Springs, it was not probable she hadstrayed far from the comfort and safety of the hotel. And recalling thatnight she had passed in the Wenatchee mountains, he smiled. 

As twilight fell, a ruddy illumination outlined the ridge. He conjecturedthat the men he had heard early in the afternoon in the vicinity of thefirst slide were a party of belated hunters, who had camped in the uppercanyon. They must have known of the greater avalanche; possibly of thedisaster. They may have sent a messenger to the Springs and kindled thisbeacon to guide any one who might choose this way to bring the news fromthe portal. At least they would be able to direct him to the shortest out;serve him the cup of coffee of which he was in need. So, coming to the endof the ridge where the canyons met, he turned in the direction of thefire, and found--two waiting women. 

Their presence alone was an explanation. Mrs. Feversham had only to sayLucky Banks had led their party, in the ascent of the peak that brilliantmorning, and instantly everything was clear to Tisdale. The voice he hadheard from the top of the ridge was not an illusion. She had called him. 

"It was snowing, " he said, interrupting the story, "but if they left theshadow of a trail, Banks found it. There are two of them, though, and upthere--it's cold. " Then, having gone a few steps, he remembered the childand came back to put him in Elizabeth's arms. "His father and mother aredead, " he explained briefly, "but he hasn't a bruise. When he wakes, he isgoing to be hungry. "

So, forgetting those wearing hours of rescue work, and without the coffeefor which he had intended to ask, he started on the prospector's trail. Ina little while, as he skirted the foot of the slide, he heard a greatcommotion on the slope beyond. It was Lucky Banks easing his humantoboggan down the last pitch to the canyon floor. 

The two men stood a silent moment scanning each other in the uncertainlight across that load. Tisdale's eyes were searching for an answer to thequestion he could not ask, but the prospector, breathing hard, was tryingto cover the emotion Tisdale's unexpected appearance had roused. 

"Hello, Hollis, " he said at last. "Is that you? I had to see after Dave'swife, but I thought likely, when I got her to camp, I'd take a little hikeup to the tunnel and look you up. "

But Tisdale, not finding the answer for which he looked, sank to his kneebeside the load and loosened the straps. Then he lifted a corner of therug that protected her face, and at the sight of it, so white, so still, his heart cried. "Little soldier!" he said over and over and, as though hehoped to warm them, laid his cheek gently to her blue lips. "You calledme! I heard you. I failed you, too!"

Then a fluttering breath steadied him. Instantly the iron in the mancropped through. He felt her pulse, her heart, as though she had been somestranger from the unfortunate train and, moving her to a level place, fixed her head low and began firmly, with exceeding care, those expedientsto eliminate the frost and start the circulation that Banks had alreadyhurriedly tried. His great, warm personality enfolded her; he workedtirelessly, as though he was determined to infuse her numb veins with hisown vigor. When the prospector would have aided him, he wished to doeverything alone, and directed the miner's attention to FredericMorganstein, who showed signs of returning consciousness. 

But the intrepid little man failed to respond. "I guess likely he willpull through, " he said dryly. "He had a pretty good shaking up comingdown, and I'd better run around to camp and get a bottle of port I cachedthis morning. The snipe got away with my flask; used the last drop, likely, before she needed it. " His voice took a higher pitch, and he addedover his shoulder, as he started in the direction of the fire: "He made awindbreak of her. "

When he returned presently with the wine, Frederic was filling the nightwith his complaints and groans. But neither of the men gave him anyattention. That was left for Marcia, who had followed the prospector. 

Beatriz Weatherbee was still unconscious. She was carried to the camp andlaid in a sheltered place remote from the fire. Then Lucky Banksvolunteered to go to Scenic Springs with the news of the train disaster, and to bring an extra man with lanterns and a stretcher. He was well onthe way when Morganstein crept in. Marcia found him a seat on the end of alog and, wrapping the cached rug about him, regaled him with the recoveredportion of the luncheon. But it was long after that when BeatrizWeatherbee's eyelids fluttered open. Tisdale drew a little more into theshadows, waiting, and the first to come within her range of vision was thechild. He was sitting on his blanket in the strong glow, and just beyondhim Elizabeth, who had found a tin of cream in the cache and had beenfeeding him, was putting away the cup. Joey faced the waking woman and, catching her look, he put out his hands, rocking gayly, and crowed. Instantly a flash of intelligence lighted her face. She smiled and triedto stretch out her arms. "Come!" she said. 

Elizabeth caught up the child and placed him beside her on the rug. He putout his soft, moist fingers, touching her face curiously, with gatheringdoubt. Then, satisfied this was not his mother, as in the uncertain lighthe must have supposed, he drew back with a whimper and clung to Elizabeth. 

At the same moment Mrs. Weatherbee's smile changed to disappointment. "Hiseyes are brown, Elizabeth, " she said, "and my baby's were blue, likemine. " And she turned her face, weeping; not hysterically, like a womanphysically unstrung, but with the slow, deep sobs of a woman who haswakened from a dream of one whom she has greatly loved--and buried. 

CHAPTER XXVIII

SURRENDER

Tisdale had not seen Beatriz Weatherbee since she had been broughtsemi-conscious from the foot of the mountain, but he learned from the hotelphysician the following morning that she was able to travel on the specialtrain which was coming from Seattle to transport the Morganstein partyhome. The first inquiry, after news of the disaster reached the outsideworld, was from Joey's grandfather, a lumberman on Puget Sound. Put incommunication with Tisdale, he telephoned he would arrive at the Springson the special. So, leaving the child in charge of the housekeeper, Hollisreturned to the west portal, to join the little force of rescuers. It wasthen no longer a question of life-saving, but of identification. The Swisschalet, which had ceased to be the mecca of pleasure-seekers, had become amorgue. 

But Lucky Banks, who went with him, had received a message from Mrs. Weatherbee, and in the interval that Tisdale was busy with long-distanceand disposing of Joey, the prospector went up to her room. She was paleand very weak, but she smiled as he approached her couch and held out herhand. "No, the right one, " she said, and added, taking it with a gentlepressure, "I know, now, what it is--to be cold. "

The little man nodded. His face worked, and he hurried to conceal themaimed hand in his pocket. "But the doctor says you'll pull through goodas new, " he commented. "I am proud to know that; my, yes. "

"And I am proud of you, Mr. Banks. It seems incredible, but MissMorganstein told me you rescued her brother, too. I've tried and tried toremember, but I am not able. You must have carried me, at least, all ofthe way. "

Banks glanced at Elizabeth, who was seated beyond the couch. She had laida warning finger to her lips and shook her head. "That was dead easycoming downgrade, " he answered. "And that little blow up there on themountain top wasn't anything to speak of, alongside a regular Alaskablizzard. If I'd had to weight my pockets with rocks, that would have beensomething doing. I might have felt then that I was squaring myself withDave Weatherbee. "

"I understand, " she said slowly, "but, " and she smiled again, "I amgrateful, Mr. Banks, just the same. Perhaps, since you loved David somuch, you will regard it as a kind of compensation that I am going on withthe project. "

"Is that so?" The little man beamed. "Well, the house is all done andwaiting, my, yes, whenever you are ready to move over. "

"Why, Beatriz, " said Elizabeth in alarm, "I am going to take that deserttract off your hands. I've been interested in reclamation work formonths. " And looking at Banks, she added significantly: "I am afraid sheis talking too much. "

"Likely, " replied the prospector, rising, "and I am due to take a littlehike up the canyon with Hollis Tisdale. "

"Mr. Tisdale?" she asked, with a quick brightening of her face. "Then heis quite well again. Miss Morganstein told me he was saved--from thatunfortunate train, " and she added, shivering and closing her eyes, "Iremember--that. "

"I couldn't have got there in time, " Banks hurried to explain, "even ifyou had given up making the summit. Likely I'd have got caught by theslide, and Hollis was half-way to the Springs and 'feeling fit as a moose'when it started. Well, good-by, ma'am; take care of yourself. "

"Good-by, Mr. Banks, " and she smiled once more. "You may expect me atHesperides Vale in a few days; as soon as my things at Vivian Court arepacked. " And she added, with the color softly warming her cheek, "Mr. Tisdale might like to know that. He always wished to see David's projectcarried through. "

And the little man replied from the door: "I'll tell him, ma'am, my, yes. "

The special, which brought other seekers besides Joey's grandfather, alsoconveyed Jimmie Daniels. It was his last assignment with the _Press_; heand Geraldine were to be married within the week and assume the editorialposition at Weatherbee. And he pushed up over Tisdale's trail, now becomewell broken, eager to make a final scoop and his best one. Hours later, when he should have been back at Scenic Hot Springs, rushing his copythrough to his paper, he still remained on the slope below the west portalto carry out the brief and forceful instructions of the man who directedand dominated everybody; who knew in each emergency the one thing to do. Once Jimmie found himself aiding Banks to wrap a woman's body in a blanketto be lowered by tackle down the mountainside. She was young, not olderthan Geraldine, and the sight of her--rounded cheek, dimpled chin, arm sobeautifully molded--all with the life snuffed out without a moment'swarning--gave him a sensation of being smothered. He was seized with acompelling desire to get away, and to conquer his panic, he asked theprospector whether this man was not the superintendent of the mountaindivision. 

The mining man replied: "No, that's the railroad boss over there with thegang handling the derrick; this is Tisdale, Hollis Tisdale of Alaska andWashington, D. C. You ought to have heard of him in your line of businessif you never happened to see him before. "

Then Jimmie, turning to look more directly at the stranger, hastilydropped his face. "You are right, " he said softly, "I've known him bysight some time. "

Afterwards, while they were having coffee with the station master, Danielsasked Banks how he and Tisdale happened to be at Cascade Tunnel. "I wasputting in a little time at the Springs, " Banks responded, "but Hollis wasa passenger on the stalled train. He took a notion to hike down to thehotel just ahead of the slide. "

"You mean that man who has taken charge out there, " exclaimed theoperator. "I had a talk with him before he started; he was rigging up somesnowshoes. He said he was from Alaska, and I put him down for one of thosebonanza kings. "

"He is, " said Banks in his high key. "What he don't know about mineralsain't worth knowing, and he owns one of the finest layouts in the north, Dave Weatherbee's bore. "

"The Aurora mine, " confirmed Daniels. "And I presume there isn't a manbetter known, or as well liked, in Alaska. "

Banks nodded. "Dave and him was a team. The best known and the best likedin the whole country. And likely there's men on the top seats inWashington, D. C. , would be glad of a chance to shake hands with HollisTisdale. "

"I knew he was somewhere near the top, " commented the operator. "He canhandle men. I never saw such a fellow. Why, he must have got half-way tothe Springs when the slide started, but he was back, climbing up along theedge of it to the wreck, almost before it quit thundering. And he took outa live baby, without a damage mark, and all its folks lying right theredead, before the rest of us got in earshot. "

Daniels put down his sandwich and took out his neglected notebook. Hegathered all the detail the ready operator could supply: how Tisdale hadwrapped the child in a blanket and carried him from place to place, talking to him in his nice, friendly way, amusing him, keeping him quiet, while he worked with the strength of two men to liberate other survivors. And how, when none was left to save, he had taken the baby in his arms andgone to break trail to the Springs to send out news of the disaster. Allthat the station master and Banks could not tell him, with the name andprominence of Joey's family, Jimmie added later at the chalet, and hefinished with a skilful reference to the papoose, killed by accident somany years before. It was a great story. It went into the paper as itstood. And when the day came to leave the _Press_ office, the chief, shaking hands with his "novelist, " said it was a fine scoop, and he hadalways known Jimmie had it in him to make good; he was sorry to lose him. But the Society Editor, reading between the lines, told him it was thegreatest apology he could have made. She was proud of him. 

At Vivian Court late that afternoon, Elizabeth read the story to BeatrizWeatherbee. Her couch was drawn into the sunny alcove, where, from herpillows, she might watch the changing light on Mount Rainier. Finally, when Elizabeth finished, Beatriz broke the silence. "He must have passeddown the canyon while we were there. "

"Yes, he did. He carried one end of your stretcher all the way to theSprings. " Then Elizabeth asked: "Don't you remember the baby, either? Hehad brown eyes. "

"I seem to remember a child, " she answered slowly, "a baby sitting in thefirelight, but"--and she shook her head, "I've dreamed so many dreams. "

"He was a fact; a perfect dear. I should have adopted him, if hisrelatives hadn't been so prominent and rich. And you, too, fell instantlyin love with him. You wanted him in your arms the moment you opened youreyes. "

Elizabeth paused with a straight look from under her heavy brows and whileshe hesitated there was a knock at the door. She threw it open and aporter brought in one of those showy Japanese shrubs in an ornatejardiničre, such as Frederic Morganstein so often used as an expression ofhis regard. His card hung by a ribbon from a branch, like a present on aChristmas tree, and when the boy had gone, she untied it and carried it toMrs. Weatherbee. "I wish you could marry Frederic and settle it all, " shesaid. "Japan is lovely in the spring. "

Beatriz, who had taken the card indifferently, allowed it to drop withoutreading it. Her glance rested again on the shining dome. 

"I told him I would ask you to see him a few moments to-night, " Elizabethresumed. "He is feeling miserably. He says he was ill when we made theascent that day and never should have left the hotel; his high temperatureand the altitude affected his head. He believes he must have said thingsthat offended or frightened you--things he wasn't responsible for. " Shepaused, then, for a woman who had been so schooled to hold herself in handas Elizabeth Morganstein, went on uncertainly: "He is just a plainbusiness man, used to going straight to a point, but not many men care somuch for a woman as he does for you. You could mold him like wax. He saysall he wants now--if he did make a mistake--is a chance to wipe it out;start with a clean slate. "

Mrs. Weatherbee rose from the couch. She stood a moment meetingElizabeth's earnest look. The shadow of a smile touched her mouth, butwell-springs of affection brimmed her eyes. "We cannot wipe out ourmistakes, dear, " she said. "They are indelible. We have to accept them, study them, use them as a rule from which to work out the problems of ourlives. There is no going back, no starting over, if we have missed aneasier way. Elizabeth, in one hour on that mountain I saw more of the trueFrederic Morganstein than in all the years I had known him before. In thegreat moments of life, I should have no influence with him. Even for yoursake, dear, I could not marry him. I do not want to see him any more. "

There was a silence, then Elizabeth said: "In that case, I am going toease things for you. I am going to buy that desert land. Now, don't say aword. I am going to pay you Lucky Banks' price, and, of course, for theimprovements whatever is right. "

"But it is not on the market, " replied Beatriz. "I told you I had decidedto live there. I hoped--you would like to go with me. For awhile, atleast, you might find it interesting. "

Elizabeth tried to dissuade her. It was ridiculous. It was monstrous. Shewas not strong enough. It would be throwing her life away, as surely as totransplant a tender orchid to that burning sage-brush country. But in theend she said: "Well, Bee, then I'll go with you. "

CHAPTER XXIX

BACK TO HESPERIDES VALE

The Mayor of Weatherbee stopped his new, six-passenger car at the curb infront of the completed brick block; not at the corner which was occupiedby the Merchants' National Bank, but at the adjoining entrance, abovewhich shone the neat gilt sign: "Madame Lucile's. " He stood for a momentsurveying the window display, which was exceedingly up-to-date, showingthe prevailing color scheme of green or cerise in the millinery, softenedby a background of mauve and taupe in the arrangement of the gowns. Acard, placed unobtrusively in the corner of the plate glass, announcedthat Madame Lucile, formerly with Sedgewick-Wilson of Seattle, wasprepared to give personal attention to all orders. 

Bailey himself that day was equipped in a well-made suit from thetailoring establishment on the opposite side of the building. Though hehad not yet gathered that avoirdupois which is associated with the dignityof office, there was in his square young frame an undeniable promise. Already he carried himself with the deliberation of a man whose future isassured, and his mouth took those upward curves of one who is humorouslysatisfied with himself and his world. 

There were no customers when he entered, and since it was the hour whenher assistant was out at lunch, Madame, attired in a gown of dark bluevelvet, her black hair arranged with elaborate care, was alone in theshop. And Bailey's glance, having traveled the length of the soft greencarpet to the farthest mirror, returned in final approval to her. "Thiscertainly is swell, " he said, "It's like a sample right out of Chicago. But I knew you could do it, the minute Mrs. Banks mentioned you. Why, thefirst time I saw you--it was on the street the day I struck Wenatchee--Itold myself: 'This town can't be very wild and woolly if it can turn outanything as classy as that. '"

Madame laughed. "I must have looked like a moving fashion plate to attractattention that way. I feel a little over-dressed now, after wearing theuniform in Sedgewick-Wilson's so long; but Mrs. Banks said I ought to wearnice clothes to advertise the store. "

Bailey tipped back his head at that, laughing softly. "I guess your silentpartner is going to be the power behind the throne, all right. "

Madame nodded, with the humor still lingering in her brown eyes. "But itwas good advice. I sold a gown like this to my first customer thismorning. And she had only come in to see millinery; she hadn't meant tolook at gowns. But she liked this one the moment she saw it. "

"Is that so? Well, I don't wonder. It certainly looks great--on you. "

Madame flushed and turned her face to look off through the plate glassdoor. "Why, " she exclaimed, "you didn't tell me your new automobile hadcome. " She moved a few steps, sweeping the car with admiring eyes. "Isn'tit luxurious though, and smart? But you deserve it; you deserve everythingthat's coming to you now, staying here, sticking it out as you have in theheat and sand. I often thought of it summer days while I was over on theSound. "

"You did?" questioned Bailey in pleased surprise. "Well, I am glad to knowthat. I wonder whether you ever thought over the time we tramped therailroad ties up to Leavenworth to that little dance?"

"Often, " she responded quickly. "And how we came back in the Oleson wagon, riding behind with our heels hanging over, and the dust settling likepowder on our party clothes. But I had the loveliest time. It was thestarriest night, with moonlight coming home, and I danced every number. "

"Seven times with me, " returned the mayor. 

"I wanted to learn the two-step, " she explained hastily. 

"And I wanted to teach you, " he laughed. "But say, how would you like totake a little spin up the Leavenworth road this evening, in the new car?"

"Oh, that would be delightful. " Madame Lucile glowed. "With a party?" sheasked. 

"Well, I thought of asking Daniels and his wife to go with us. I am on theway to the station now, to meet them. And Mrs. Weatherbee and MissMorganstein are due on the same train. I promised Mr. Banks I would takethem out to the Orchards in the machine; but we are to motor around to thenew bungalow first, to leave the bride and Jimmie and have luncheon. "

"I know. Mrs. Banks is going to have the table in that wide verandalooking down the river. I would like to be there when they find out thatdear little bungalow is their wedding present. It was perfectly lovely ofMrs. Banks to think of it; and of you to give them that beautiful lot onthe point. You can see Hesperides Vale for miles and miles to the lowergap. "

Bailey smiled. "Mrs. Banks said it was a good way to use up the lumberthat was left over from the ranch house. And that bungalow certainly makesa great showing for the town. It raised the value of the adjoining lots. Isold three before the shingles were on the walls, and the people whobought them thought they had a snap. "

"All the same, it is a lovely present, " said Madame Lucile. 

"There's the train, whistling up the valley, " said the mayor, but hepaused to ask, almost with diffidence, as he turned to the door: "Say, what do you think of this tie?"

"I like it. " She nodded, with a reassuring smile. "And it's a nice shadefor you; it brings out the blue in your eyes. "

The mayor laughed gaily. "I ought to wear it steady after that, but I amcoming to black ones with a frock coat and silk hat. I am going to beginto-morrow, when those German scientists, on their way home from theOrient, stop to see Hesperides Vale. "

"Oh, I hope you will wear this nice business suit, unless they come latein the afternoon. It seems more sensible here on the edge of the desert, and even if you are the first mayor to do it, I know, the world over, there isn't another as young. "

Bailey grew thoughtful. "The mayor in Chicago always wore a Prince Albert. Why, that long coat and silk hat stood for the office. They were the mostimportant part of him. But good-by, " he said hastily, as the trainwhistled again, nearer, "I'll call for you at seven. "

Ten minutes later, the mayor stood on the station platform shaking handswith Mrs. Weatherbee. "Say, I am surprised, " he said. "I often wonderedwhat you thought of the vale. Lighter told me how you drove those coltsthrough that day, and I was disappointed not to hear from you. You didn'tlet me know you had an investment already, and it never occurred to me, afterwards, that you were our Mrs. Weatherbee. "

Then, introductions being over, he assisted Miss Morganstein into thetonneau with the bridal couple and gave the seat in front to Mrs. Weatherbee. He drove very slowly up the new thoroughfare, past the Baileybuilding, where she expressed her astonishment at the inviting windowdisplay of the millinery store. He explained that offices for the_Weatherbee Record_ had been reserved on the second floor, and that in thehall, in the third story, the first inaugural ball was to be given thefollowing night. It had been postponed a few days until her arrival, andhe hoped he might have the privilege of leading the grand march with her. And, Mrs. Weatherbee having thanked him, with the pleasure dancing in hereyes, Bailey pointed out the new city hospital, a tall, airy structure, brave in fresh paint, which was equipped with a resident physician andthree trained nurses, including Miss Purdy, the milliner's sister, who wason her way from Washington to join the force. 

After that they motored through the residence district, and Mrs. Weatherbee expressed greater wonder and delight at the rows of thriftyhomes, each with its breadth of green lawn and budding shrubbery, wherehardly six months ago had been unreclaimed acres of sage. And so, at last, they came to the city park, where the road wound smooth and firm betweenbroad stretches of velvety green, broken by beds of blossoming tulips, nodding daffodils, clumps of landscape foliage putting forth new leaves. Sprinklers, supplied by a limpid canal that followed the drive, playedhere, there, everywhere, and under all this moisture and the warm rays ofthe spring sun, the light soil teemed with awakening life. Then, finally, the car skirted a low, broad mound, in which was set the source of theviaduct, a basin of masonry, brimming with water crystal clear and fed bytwo streams that gushed from a pedestal of stone on the farther rim. "Howbeautiful!" she exclaimed. "How incredible! And there is to be a statue tocomplete it. A faun, a water nymph, some figure to symbolize the spirit ofthe place. "

"I can't tell you much about the statue, " replied Bailey, watching thecurve ahead. "Mr. Banks engaged the sculptor; some noted man in the east. He is carrying the responsibility; it was his idea. But it was to havebeen in place, ready to be unveiled by the fifteenth, and there was somedelay. "

After that, the mayor was silent, devoting his attention to the speedingcar. They left the park and, taking the river road, arrived presently atthe bungalow. The shingles still lacked staining, the roof was incomplete, but a sprinkler threw rainbow mist over the new lawn, which was beginningto show shades of green. A creeper, planted at the corner of the veranda, already sent out pale, crinkled shoots. 

Lucky Banks came beaming down the steps, and Annabel, in a crisp frock ofroyal blue taffeta, stood smiling a welcome as the automobile stopped. Then Bailey, springing down to throw open the door of the tonneau, liftedhis voice to say: "And this--is the home of the Editor of the _WeatherbeeRecord_ and Mrs. Daniels. "

They did not at once grasp his meaning, and the prospector made it clearas they went up to the veranda. "The house is a wedding present from Mrs. Banks, " he said; "and Mr. Bailey, here, put up the lot, so's I thoughtthis would come in handy; it will take quite a bunch of furniture. "

There was a silent moment while Geraldine stood regarding the envelope hehad put in her hand. She was looking her best in a trim, tailored suit ofgray. There was a turquoise facing to the brim of her smart gray hat, buther only ornaments were a sorority pin fastened to the lapel of her coatand a gold button that secured her watch in the small breast pocket madefor it. At last she looked up, an unusual flush warmed her face, and shebegan: "It's perfectly lovely of you--we are so surprised--we never canthank you enough. "

But Jimmie turned away. He stood looking down the valley in the directionof that place, not very far off, where his mother had carried water up thesteep slope in the burning desert sun. His forehead creased; he closed hislips tight over a rising sob. Then Geraldine laid her hand on his arm. "Doyou understand what these people have done for us?" she askedunconventionally. "Did you hear?"

Jimmie swung around. His glance met Annabel's. "I can't explain how I feelabout it, " he burst out, "but I know if my mother could have been herenow, it--this--would have paid her for all--she missed. I don't deserveit--but Geraldine does; and I pledge myself to stay by the _WeatherbeeRecord_ as long as you want me to. I don't see how I can help makinggood. "

Then Annabel, winking hard, hastily led the way over the house; and, presently, when the party returned to the table in the veranda, and theJapanese boy she had brought from the ranch house was successfully passingthe fried chicken, she wanted to know about the wedding. 

"Yes, we tried to have it quiet, " responded Jimmie, "and we planned it sothe taxi would just make our train; but the fellows caught on and werewaiting for us at the station, full force, with their pocketfuls of riceand shoes. They hardly let us get aboard. "

"Gracious!" exclaimed Annabel. "You might as well have been married inchurch. You'd have looked pretty in a train and veil, " she said, addressing Geraldine, who was seated on her right. "Not but what you don'tlook nice in gray. And I like your suit real well; it's a fine piece ofgoods; the kind to stand the desert dust. But I would have liked to seeyou in white, with a blaze of lights and decorations and a crowd. "

Geraldine laughed. "We had a nice little wedding, and the young men fromthe office made up for their noise. They gave the porter a handsome caseof silver at the last moment, to bring to me. "

"And, " supplemented Jimmie, "there was a handsome silver tea service fromthe chief. He told her she had been a credit to the staff, and he wouldfind it hard to replace her. Think of that coming from the head of a bigdaily. It makes me feel guilty. But she is to have full latitude in thenew paper; society, clubs, equal suffrage if she says so; anything shewrites goes with the _Weatherbee Record_. "

"If I were you, I'd have that down in writing. " Annabel looked fromDaniels to the bride, and her lip curled whimsically. "They all talk thatway at first, as though the earth turned round for one woman, and thewhole crowd ought to stop to watch her go by. He pretends, so far as he isconcerned, she can stump the county for prohibition or lead thesuffragette parade, but, afterwards, he gets to taking the other view. Instead of thanking his lucky stars the nicest girl in the world pickedhim out of the bunch, he begins to think she naturally was proud that thebest one wanted her. Then, before they've been married two years, hestarts trying to make her over into some other kind of a woman. Why, Iknow one man right here in Hesperides Vale who set to making a Garden ofEden out of a sandhole in the mountains, just because it belonged to acertain girl. " She paused an instant, while her glance moved to Banks, andthe irony went out of her voice. "He could have bought the finest fruitranch in the valley, all under irrigation and coming into bearing, for hehad the money, but he went to wasting it on that piece of unreclaimed sagedesert. And now that he has got it all in shape, he's talking of opening abig farm in Alaska. "

Banks laughed uneasily. "The boys need it up there, " he said in his highkey. "Besides, I always get more fun out of making new ground over. It'ssuch mighty good soil here in Hesperides Vale things grow themselvessoon's the water is turned on. It don't leave a man enough to do. And wecould take a little run down to the ranch, any time; we could count onalways wintering here, my, yes. "

Annabel smiled. "He thinks by mid-summer he can take me right into theinterior, in that cranky red car. And I don't know but what I am ready torisk it; there are places I'd like to see--where he was caught his firstwinter in a blizzard, and where he picked up the nuggets for my necklace. You remember it--don't you?--Mrs. Daniels. I wore it that night in Seattlewe went to hear Carmen. "

"I certainly do remember. It was the most wonderful thing in the theaterthat night, and fit for an empress. " Involuntarily Geraldine glanced downat her own solitary jewel. It flashed a lovely blue light as she moved herhand. 

Annabel followed the glance. "Your ring is a beauty, " she said. "Not manyyoung men, just starting in business for themselves, would have thoughtthey could afford a diamond like that. "

Geraldine laughed, flushing a little. "It seems the finest in the world tome, " she replied almost shyly. "And it ought to show higher light andcolor than any other; the way it was bought was so splendid. "

"Do you mean the way the money was earned to buy it?" inquired Annabel. 

Geraldine nodded. "It was the price, exactly, of his first magazine story. Perhaps you read it. It was published in the March issue of _Sampson's_, and the editors liked it so well they asked to see more of his work. "

Jimmie looked at his wife in mingled protest and surprise. He had believedshe, as well as himself, had wished to have that story quickly forgotten. "It is an Indian story, " she pursued; "about a poor little papoose thatwas accidentally killed. It was a personal experience of Mr. Tisdale's. "

Mrs. Banks had not read it, but the prospector pushed aside his sherbetglass and, laying his arms on the table, leaned towards Geraldine. "Wasthat papoose cached under a log?" he asked softly. "And was its motherberrying with a bunch of squaws up the ridge?"

"Yes, " smiled Geraldine. "I see you have read it. "

"No, but I heard a couple of men size it up aboard the train coming fromScenic Hot Springs. And once, " he went on with gathering tenseness, "clearup the Tanana, I heard Dave and Hollis talking it over. My, yes, it seemslike I can see them now; they was the huskiest, cleanest-cut, openest-faced team that ever mushed a trail. It was one of those nightswhen the stars come close and friendly, and the camp-fire blazes andcrackles straight to heaven and sets a man thinking; and Tisdale startedit by saying if he could cut one record out of his past he guessed the restcould bear daylight. Then Dave told him he was ready to stand by that one, too. And Hollis said it was knowing that had taken the edge off, but ithadn't put the breath back into that papoose. Of course he neversuspicioned for a minute the kid was in the road when he jumped that log, and the heart went out of him when he picked it up and saw what he wasresponsible for. They had to tell me the whole story, and I wish you couldhave heard 'em. Dave smoothing things when Hollis got too hard on himself, and Hollis chipping in again for fear I wouldn't get full weight forDave's part. And the story sure enough does hinge on him. Likely that'swhy Tisdale gave it to your magazine; to show up Dave Weatherbee. Butthose men on the train--they had the seat in front of me so's I heard itplain--lost their bearings. They left out Dave and put Hollis in a badlight. He was 'caught red-handed and never was brought to an honesttrial. ' And it was clear besides, being 'hand in glove with the Secretaryof the Interior' he had a 'pull with the Federal court. ' I couldn't standfor it. " The prospector's voice reached high pitch, his forehead creasedin many fine lines, his eyes scintillated their blue glacier lights, andhe added, striking the table with his clenched hand, "I up and says: 'It'sall a damn lie. '"

There was a silence. The self-possession and swiftness of the Japanese boysaved the sherbet glass and its contents, but the mayor, who had beeninterrupted in a confidential quotation of real estate values to MissMorganstein, sat staring at Banks in amazement. A spark of admiration shotthrough the astonishment in Annabel's eyes then, catching the little man'saggressive glance, she covered her pride with her ironical smile. Mrs. Weatherbee was the only one who did not look at Banks. Her inscrutableface was turned to the valley. She might never have heard of HollisTisdale or, indeed, of David. But Elizabeth, who had kept the thread ofboth conversations, said: "You were right. There was a coroner's inquestthat vindicated Mr. Tisdale at the time. "

"But, " explained Geraldine courageously, "that was left out of themagazine. Mr. Daniels took it all accurately, just as Mr. Tisdale told it, word for word; but the story was cut terribly. Nothing at all was said ofMr. Weatherbee's part. We couldn't understand that, for with namessuppressed, there could be no motive, and he was so clearly the leadingcharacter. But magazines have no conscience. It's anything, with the newones at least, to catch the public eye, and they stir more melodrama intotheir truths than the yellow journals do. But Mr. Daniels apologized toMr. Tisdale, and explained how he wasn't responsible for the editor's noteor for printing his name, and he did his best to make it up in his reportof the disaster at Cascade tunnel. That story went into the _Press_straight and has been widely copied. "

It was in Jimmie's favor that Lucky Banks had read the newspaper story, and also that they had had those hours of intimacy at the west portal. "Well, likely you ain't to blame, " the prospector admitted finally, "butthere's people who don't know Hollis Tisdale that might believe what themagazine says. And, if I was you, I'd take a little run over to Washingtonor New York, wherever it is--I'll put up the money--and locate thateditor. I'd make him fix it right, my, yes. "

"I should be glad to, " said Daniels, brightening, "but it's possible thosemissing pages were lost on the way. "

"Well, I'd find out, " persisted Banks. "And there's other stories I gotwind of when I was in Washington, D. C. , and Seattle, too, last time I wasdown, that ought to be trailed. Maybe it's just politics, but I know for afact they ain't so. "

The irony had gone out of Annabel's face. She had seen Hollis Tisdale butonce, yet his coming and going had marked the red-letter day of her life. Her heart championed Banks' fight for him. She turned her dark eyes fromhim to Daniels. 

"It's too bad you tried to tell Hollis Tisdale's story for him, " she said. "Even if the magazine had got it all straight, it wouldn't have been thesame as getting it first hand. It's like listening to one of those finesingers in a phonograph; you can get the tune and some of the words, andmaybe the voice pretty fair, but you miss the man. "

With this she rose. "We are ready to go out to the Orchards, Mr. Bailey. Mr. Banks and I are going to change places with the bride and groom. " Thenfrom her silk bag, she brought forth a bunch of keys which she gave toGeraldine. "Nukui is going to stay to clear away, " she explained, "andbring our car home. And when you have finished making your plans, and wantto go down to see the newspaper office, he will show you a nice short cutthrough the park. "

So again the mayor's chocolate six-passenger car threaded the park andemerged this time on a straight, broad thoroughfare through HesperidesVale. "This, " said Bailey, turning from the town, "is the Alameda. Theymotor from Wenatchee and beyond to try it. It's a pretty good road, but ina year or two, when these shade trees come into full leaf, it will besomething to show. "

There were tufts on most of them now and on the young fruit trees that ranin geometrical designs on either side, covering the levels that last yearhad been overgrown with sage. As these infant orchards dropped behind andthe Wenatchee range loomed near, Cerberus detached from the other peaks;but it was no longer a tawny monster on guard; its contour was broken bymany terraces, luxuriant with alfalfa and planted with trees. 

"Why, " exclaimed Mrs. Weatherbee, "there is the gap. Then, this must bethe mountain--it reminded me once of a terrible, crouching, wild beast--but it has changed. "

"Yes, ma'am, " responded Banks, "she's looking tamer now. The peaches havetaken right hold, and those fillers of strawberries are hurrying on thegreen. But you give 'em three years or maybe four, and take 'em in blossomtime, --my, you won't know this old mountain then. "

A drive, cross-cutting the bold front, led to the level beneath thesummit, where rose the white walls and green gables of Annabel's home, butthey rounded the mountain into the smaller vale. "This, " said the mayor, with culminating pride, "is Weatherbee Orchards. It shows what money, inthe right hands, can do. "

A soft breeze came down over the ridge as they ascended; the flume, thatfollowed the contour of the roadway, gurgled pleasantly. Everywhere alongthe spillways alfalfa spread thriftily, or strawberry plants sent out newtendrils. All growing things were more advanced in that walled pocket thanin the outer vale; the arid gulf had become a vast greenhouse. Cerberus nolonger menaced. Even the habitation of the goat-woman, that had been thecentral distraction of the melancholy picture, was obliterated. In allthat charming landscape there was no discordant note to break the harmony. 

The car doubled the curve at the top of the bench and ran smoothly betweenbreadths of green lawn, bordered by nodding narcissus, towards the house, which was long and low, with a tiled roof and cream-colored walls thatenclosed a patio. A silence fell over the company. As they alighted, everyone waited, looking expectantly at Beatriz Weatherbee. The music of afountain fluted from the court, and she went forward, listening. Her facewas no longer inscrutable; it shone with a kind of inner illumination. Butwhen she saw the slender column of spray and the sparkling basin, with afew semi-tropical plants grouped on the curb, a cactus, a feathery palm ina quaint stone pot, she turned, and her eyes sought Elizabeth's. "It isall like the old hacienda where grandfather was born, and mother, and"--her voice broke--"Only that had adobe walls, " she finished. "It is like--coming home. "

"It is simply marvelous, " replied Elizabeth, and she added abruptly, looking at the prospector: "Mr. Banks, you are a problem beyond me. "

"It looks all right, doesn't it?" the little man beamed. "Likely it wouldabout suit Dave. And I was able to stand the investment. My, yes, now yourbrother has bought out the Annabel, what I spent wouldn't cut any figure. But, " and his glance moved to the woman who had profited by the venture, "I'll likely get my money back. "

Afterwards, when the party had inspected the reservoirs and upper flumes, Beatriz found herself returning to the bench with Lucky Banks. It wasalmost sunset, and the far Chelan peaks were touched with Alpine fire;below them an amethyst mist filtered over the transformed vale. They hadbeen discussing the architecture of the building. 

"I had often gone over the map of the project with David, " she said, "buthe must have drawn the plans of the house later, in Alaska. It was acomplete surprise. I wonder he remembered the old hacienda so accurately;he was there only once--when we were on our wedding journey. "

"There were a few measurements that had to be looked up, " admitted Banks;"but I took a little run around into lower California last winter, on myway home from Washington, D. C. "

"You were there? You troubled to go all the way to the old rancheria fordetails?"

"Yes, ma'am. It was a mighty good grazing country down there, but thepeople who bought the place were making their money out of one of thosefine hotels; it was put up alongside a bunch of hot springs. Nobody but acouple of Mexicans was living in the old house. It was in bad shape. "

"I know. I know. If I had been a man, it would have been different. Ishould have restored it; I should have worked, fought to buy back everyacre. But you saw old Jacinta and Carlos? It was recorded in the titlethey should be allowed to stay there and have the use of the old homegarden as long as they lived. My mother insisted on that. "

They had reached the level and walked on by the house towards the solitarypine tree on the rim of the bench. After a moment he said: "Now Dave'sproject is running in good shape, there isn't much left for me to do, my, no, except see the statue set up in the park. "

"I wanted to ask you about that, Mr. Banks; we passed the place on the wayto the bungalow. It was beautiful. I presume you have selected a woman'sfigure--a lovely Ceres or Aphrodite?"

"No, ma'am, " responded Banks a little sharply. "It's a full-sized man. Full-sized and some over, what the sculptor who made it calls heroic; andit's a good likeness of Dave Weatherbee. "

They had reached the pine tree, and she put out her hand to steady herselfon the bole. "I understand, " she said slowly. "It was a beautiful--tribute. "

"It looks pretty nice, " corroborated the prospector. "There was a mightygood photograph of Dave a young fellow on a Yukon steamer gave me once, togo by. He was standing on a low bluff, with his head up, looking off likea young elk, when the boat pulled out, and the camera man snapped him. Itwas the day we quit the partner lay, and I was going down-stream, and hewas starting for the headwaters of the Susitna. Tisdale told me about aman who had done first-class work in New York, and I sent that picturewith a check for a starter on my order. I wrote him the price wasn'tcutting any figure with me; what I wanted was the best he could do and tohave it delivered by the fifteenth of March. And he did; he had it done ontime; and he said it was his best work. It's waiting down in Weatherbeenow. Hollis thought likely I better leave it to you whether to have theburying with the statue down in the park, or up here, somewhere, on Dave'sown ground. "

"Do you mean, " she asked, and her voice almost failed, "you have brought--David--home?"

Banks nodded. "It was cold for him wintering up there in the Alaska snow. "

"Oh, I know. I've thought about--that. I should have done--as you have--had I been able. "

After a moment she said: "What is there I can say to you? I did not knowthere were such men in the world until I knew you and Hollis Tisdale. Ofcourse you believed, as he did, that I was necessary to round out David'sproject. That is why, when it was successfully completed, you forfeitedthe bonus and all the investment. I may never be able to fully refund youbut--shall do my best. And this other--too. Mr. Banks, was that Mr. Tisdale's suggestion? Did he share that--expense--with you?"

"No, ma'am, he let me have that chance when we talked it over. I had toget even with him on the project. "

"Even with him on the project?"

"Yes, ma'am. He let me put up the money, but it's got to be paid back outof Dave's half interest in the Aurora mine. And likely, likely, that'swhat Dave Weatherbee would have wanted done. "

CHAPTER XXX

THE JUNIOR DEFENDANT

It was following a recess during the third afternoon of the trial; a juryhad at last been impanelled, the attorney for the prosecution and theleading lawyer for the defense had measured swords, when Stuart Foster, the junior defendant in the "Conspiracy to Defraud the Government, " wascalled to the stand. Frederic Morganstein, the head of the Prince WilliamDevelopment Company, straightened in his seat beside the vacated chair. Hewas sleekly groomed, and his folded, pinkish white hands suggested a goodchild's; his blank face assumed an expression of mildly protestinginnocence. But the man who stepped from his shadow into the strong lightof the south windows was plainly harassed and worn. His boyishness wasgone; he seemed to have aged years since that evening in September when hehad sailed for Alaska. Tisdale's great heart stirred, then his clear mindbegan to tally the rapid fire of questions and Foster's replies. 

"When were you first connected with the Prince William DevelopmentCompany, Mr. Foster?"

"In the summer of 1904. "

"You were then engaged in the capacity of mining engineer at a fixedsalary, were you not?" The prosecuting attorney had a disconcerting mannerof arching his brows. His mouth, taken in connection with his strong, square jaw, had the effect of closing on his questions like a trap. 

"Yes, " Foster answered briefly, "I was to receive two hundred and fiftydollars a month the first year, and its equivalent in the company'sstock. "

"Did you not, at the same time, turn over to the company your interests inthe Chugach Railway and Development Company?"

"Yes, " said Foster. 

"And was not this railroad built for the purpose of opening certain coallands in the Matanuska region, in which you held an interest?"

"Yes, I had entered a coal claim of one hundred and sixty acres. "

"All the law allowed to an individual; but, Mr. Foster, did you not induceothers, as many as thirty persons, to locate adjoining claims with theidea that the entire group would come under one control?"

Foster colored. "It was necessary to co-operate, " he said slowly, "inorder to meet the enormous expense of development and transportation. Wewished to build a narrow-gauge road--it was then in course ofconstruction--but the survey was through the Chugach Mountains, the mostrugged in North America. The cost of moving material, after it was shippedfrom the States, was almost prohibitive; ordinary labor commanded higherwages than are paid skilled mechanics here in Seattle. "

"Mr. Foster, were not those coal claims located with a purpose to disposeof them in a group at a profit?"

"No, sir. I have told you on account of the great expense of developmentit was necessary to work together; it was also necessary that as manyclaims as possible should be taken. "

The prosecution, nodding affirmatively, looked at the jury. "The morecunning and subtle the disguise, " he said, "the more sure we may be of theevasion of the law. So, Mr. Foster, you promoted an interest in thefields, selected claims for men who never saw them; used their power ofattorney?"

"Yes. That was in accordance with the law then in force. We paid for ourcoal claims, the required ten dollars an acre. The land office acceptedour money, eighty thousand dollars. Then the President suspended the law, and we never received our patents. About that time the Chugach forestreserve was made, and we were hampered by all sorts of impossibleconditions. Some of us were financially ruined. One of the first locatorsspent one hundred and fifty thousand dollars, his whole fortune, indevelopment. He opened his mine and had several tons of coal carried bypackers through the mountains to the coast, to be shipped to Seattle, tobe tested on one of the Government cruisers. The report was so favorableit encouraged the rest of us to stay with the venture. "

"Mr. Foster, " the attorney's voice took a higher, more aggressive pitch, "were not many of those claims entered under names furnished by an agentof the Morganstein interests?"

"Well, yes. " Foster threw his head with something of his old boyishdefiance. He was losing patience and skill. "Mr. Morganstein himself madea filing, and his father. That is the reason all our holdings are nowclassed as the Morganstein group. "

"And, " pursued the lawyer, "their entries were incidental with theconsolidation of your company with the Prince William DevelopmentCompany?"

Foster flushed hotly. "The Prince William Development Company was in needof coal; no enterprise can be carried on without it in Alaska. And theconsolidation brought necessary capital to us; without it, our railroadwas bankrupt. It meant inestimable benefit to the country, to everyprospector, miner, homesteader, who must waste nerve-breaking weekspacking his outfit through those bleak mountains in order to reach theinterior. But, before forty miles of track was completed, the executivewithdrew all Alaska coal lands from entry, and we discontinuedconstruction, pending an Act of Congress to allow our patents. Thematerial carried in there at so great a cost is lying there still, rottingaway. "

"Gentlemen, is it not all clear to you?" The prosecuting attorney flasheda glance of triumph over the jury. "Do you not see in this Prince WilliamDevelopment Company the long arm of the octopus that is strangling Alaska?That has reached out its tentacles everywhere, for gold here, copperthere; for oil, coal, timber, anything in sight? That, but for theforesight of the executive and Gifford Pinchot, would possess most ofAlaska today?"

The men on the jury looked thoughtful but not altogether convinced. Oneglanced at his neighbor with a covert smile. This man, whom the Governmenthad selected to prosecute the coal fraud cases was undeniably able, oftenbrilliant, but his statements showed he had brought his ideas of Alaskafrom the Atlantic coast; to him, standing in the Seattle courtroom, ouroutlying possession was still as remote. As his glance moved to the ranksof outside listeners, who overflowed the seats and crowded the aisles tothe doors, he must have been conscious that the sentiment he had expressedwas at least unpopular in the northwest. Faces that had been merelyinterested or curious grew suddenly lowering. The atmosphere of the placeseemed surcharged. 

The following morning Morganstein took the stand. Though in small mattersthat touched his personal comfort he was arrogantly irritable, under thecross-examination that assailed his commercial methods he proved suave andnon-committal. As the day passed, the prosecutor's insinuations grew moreopen and vindictive. Judge Feversham sprang to his feet repeatedly tochallenge his accusations, and twice the Court calmed the Government'sattorney with a reprimand. The atmosphere of the room seemed to seethehatred, malice, and all uncharitableness. Finally, during the afternoonsession, Foster was recalled. 

Through it all Tisdale waited, listening to everything, separating, weighing each point presented. It was beginning to look serious forFoster. Clearly, in his determination to win his suit, the prosecution waslosing sight of the simple justice the Government desired. And a man lessdramatic, less choleric, with less of a reputation for political intriguethan Miles Feversham might better have defended Stuart Foster. Foster wasso frank, so honest, so eager to make the Alaska situation understood. Andit was not an isolated case; there were hundreds of young men, who, likehim, had cast their fortunes with that new and growing country, to findthemselves, after years of hardship and privation of which the outsideworld had no conception, bound hand and foot in an intricate tangle of theGovernment's red tape. 

The evening of the fourth day the attorney for the prosecution surprisedTisdale at his rooms. "Thank you, " he said, when Hollis offered hisarmchair, "but those windows open to the four winds of heaven are a littleimprudent to a man who lives by his voice. Pretty, though, isn't it?" Hepaused a moment to look down on the harbor lights and the chains ofelectric globes stretching off to Queen Anne hill and far and away toMagnolia bluff, then seated himself between the screen and the table thatheld the shaded reading lamp. "Has it occurred to you, Mr. Tisdale, " heasked, "that a question may be raised as to the legality of your testimonyin these coal cases?"

"No. " Hollis remained standing. He looked at his visitor in surprise. "Please make that clear, Mr. Bromley, " he said. 

The attorney smiled. "This is a trial case, " he began. "A dozen othershinge on it. I was warned to be prepared for anything; so, when myattention was called to that article in _Sampson's Magazine_, mysuspicions were instantly awake. It looked much like blackmail and, inconnection with another story I heard in circulation at Washington, seemeda systematic preparation to attack the Government's witness. Possibly youdo not know it was Mr. Jerold, your legal adviser and my personal friend, who put me in touch with the magazine. You had wired him to find outcertain facts, but he was unable to go to New York at the time and, knowing I was there for the week, he got into communication with me bytelephone and asked me to look the matter up. The publishers, fearing alibel suit which would ruin them, were very obliging. They allowed me tosee not only the original manuscript, but Mrs. Feversham's letter, which Itook the trouble to copy. "

"Mrs. Feversham's letter?" Tisdale exclaimed. "Do you mean it was Mrs. Feversham who was responsible for that story?"

"As it was published, yes. But Daniels was not a pen name. There reallywas such a writer--I have taken the trouble to find that out since Iarrived in Seattle. He was on the staff of the _Press_ and wrote a verycreditable account of the catastrophe on the Great Northern railroad, inwhich glowing tribute was given you. But since then, and this is whatmakes the situation so questionable, he has left the paper and droppedcompletely out of sight. "

Tisdale drew forward his chair and settled himself comfortably. "There isno need to worry about Jimmie Daniels, " he said; "he is all right. I sawhim at Cascade tunnel; he told me he was about to be married and go to theWenatchee country to conduct a paper of his own. It's too bad there wasn'tanother reporter up there to tell about him. He worked like a Trojan, andit was a place to try a man's mettle. Afterwards, before he left, he cameto me and introduced himself. He had been aboard the yacht that day I toldthe story. He had taken it down in his notebook behind an awning. He toldme one of the ladies on board--he did not mention her name--who read hiscopy later, offered to dispose of it for him. "

"So, " said the lawyer slowly, "you did tell the story; there was apapoose; the unfortunate incident really occurred. "

"Yes, " responded Tisdale, "it happened in a canyon of those mountainsacross the Sound. You can barely make out their outline to-night; butwatch for them at sunrise; it's worth waiting for. " Then, after a moment, he said, "I told the story to show the caliber of Weatherbee, the man whoput himself in my place when the Indians came to our camp, looking for me;but, in editing, all mention of him was cut out. Daniels couldn'tunderstand that. He said the manuscript was long, but if it was necessaryto abridge in making up the magazine, why had they thrown out the finestpart of the story?"

"Let me see, " said the attorney thoughtfully, "wasn't Weatherbee the nameof the man you grub-staked in Alaska, and who discovered the Aurora mine?"

Tisdale bowed, then added, with the vibration playing softly in his voice:"And the name of the bravest and noblest man that ever fought the unequalfight of the north. "

"Which proves the story was not published to exploit a hero, " commentedBromley. "But now, " he went on brusquely, "we have arrived at the otherstory. Do you know, Mr. Tisdale, it is being said in Washington, and, too, I have heard it here in Seattle, that though your own half interest in theAurora mine, acquired through the grub-stake you furnished Weatherbee, will make you a millionaire at least, you are withholding the widow'sshare. "

This time Tisdale did not express surprise. "I have had that suggested tome, " he answered quietly. "But the stories of the Aurora are very muchinflated. It is a comparatively new mine, and though it promises to be oneof the great discoveries, the expense of operating so far has exceeded theoutput. Heavy machinery has been transported and installed, and Mrs. Weatherbee could not have met any part of these payments. In allprobability she would have immediately disposed of an interest at a smallprice and so handicapped me with a partner with his own ideas ofdevelopment. David Weatherbee paid for the Aurora with his life, and Ihave pledged myself to carry out his plans. But, Mr. Bromley, do nottrouble about that last half interest. I bought it: the transfer wasregularly recorded; Mr. Jerold has assured me it is legally mine. "

"I know what Mr. Jerold thinks, " replied the attorney. "It nettled him tohear me repeat that story. 'Why, it's incredible, '" he said. "'There aredocuments I drew up last fall that refute it completely. '" Mr. Bromleypaused, then went on slowly: "Last fall you were in a hospital, Mr. Tisdale, beginning a long, all but hopeless fight for your life, and itwas natural you should have called in Mr. Jerold to settle your affairs. Iinferred from his remark that you had remembered Mrs. Weatherbee, atleast, in your will. " He halted again, then added still more deliberately:"If I am right, I should like to be prepared, in case of emergency, toread such a clause in court. "

Tisdale was silent. He rose and turned to the west windows, where he stoodlooking down on the harbor lights. 

"Am I right?" persisted the attorney. 

Hollis thrust his hands into his pockets and swung around. He stood withhis chin lowered, looking at the lawyer with his upward glance from underslightly frowning brows. "Well, " he said at last, "suppose you are. Andsuppose I refuse to have my private papers read in open court?"

"In that case, " answered Mr. Bromley, rising, "I must telegraph toWashington for one of the Alaska coal commission to take your place. I amsorry. You were named to me at the beginning as a man who knew more aboutAlaska coal, and, in fact, the whole Alaska situation, than any otheremployee of the Government. "

Still, having said this, Mr. Bromley did not seem in any hurry to go, butstood holding his hat and waiting for a word from Tisdale to redeem thesituation. At last it came. "Is there no other way, " he asked, "than todrag my private affairs into court?"

The attorney gravely shook his head. "You never can tell what a jury willdo, " he said. "Less than a prejudice against a witness has swung adecision sometimes. "

Hollis said no more. He went over to his safe and selected a packagecontaining three documents held together by a rubber band. After ahesitating moment, he drew out one, which he returned to its place. Theothers he brought to the attorney, who carried them to the reading lamp toscan. One was a deed to the last half interest in the Aurora, the onewhich Weatherbee had had recorded, and the remaining paper was, as Mr. Bromley conjectured, Tisdale's will; but it contained a somewhatdisconcerting surprise. However, the lawyer seated himself and, spreadingthe paper open on the table, copied this clause. 

. . . "The Aurora mine, lying in an unsurveyed region of Alaska, accessiblefrom Seward by way of Rainy Pass, and from the Iditarod district north byeast, I bequeath to Beatriz Silva Gonzales Weatherbee, to be held for herin trust by Stuart Emory Poster for a period of five years, or untildevelopment, according to David Weatherbee's plans, shall have been fullycarried out. The profits, above the cost of all improvements and alloperating expenses--which shall include a superintendent's salary of fourthousand dollars a year to said Stuart Emory Foster--to be paid insemi-annual dividends to said Beatriz Silva Gonzales Weatherbee. "

"Stuart Emory Foster, " repeated the lawyer meditatively, putting away hisfountain pen. "You evidently have considerable confidence in hisengineering skill, Mr. Tisdale. "

"Yes. " His voice mellowed, but he regarded the attorney with the upward, watchful look. "I have confidence in Stuart Emory Foster in every way. Heis not only one of the most capable, reliable mining engineers, but alsoone of the most respected and most trusted men in the north. "

There was a silence, during which Mr. Bromley thoughtfully folded his copyand placed it in his pocket-book. "Thank you, Mr. Tisdale, " he saidfinally, and rose once more. "You may not be called for several days butwhen you are, it is advisable that you have the original documents athand. Good night. "

CHAPTER XXXI

TISDALE OF ALASKA--AND WASHINGTON, D. C. 

It was evident, after his interview with Hollis Tisdale, that Mr. Bromleywas in no hurry to precipitate the side issue for which he had prepared. Every one who had taken coal land in the Morganstein group had been on thewitness stand, and many more who had not filed claims had given testimony, yet the prosecution held him in reserve. Then came a day when Lucky Banks, recalled to tell what he knew about the Chugach trail, made someastonishing statements. He had traveled that route with a partner at theend of a season in the Copper River plateau. They had expected to finishthe distance by the new railroad. The little man was brief but graphic. Itseemed to have been a running fight with storms, glaciers, and glacialtorrents to reach that narrow-gauge track before the first real Septemberblizzard. "But we could have stood it, " he concluded in his high key, "my, yes, it wouldn't have amounted to much, if we could have had firewood. "

"Did you not know the fallen timber was at your service?" questioned Mr. Bromley. "Provided, of course, you conformed to the laws of the reserve inbuilding your fire and in extinguishing it when you broke camp. "

"There wasn't any fallen timber, " responded Banks dryly; "and likely wewould have took it green, if there had been a tree in sight. It wasgetting mighty cold, nights, and with the frost in his wet clothes, a manneeds a warm supper to hearten him. "

"What?" exclaimed Mr. Bromley sharply. "Do you mean you saw no trees?Remember you were in the Chugach forest; or did you lose your way?"

"No, sir. We struck the Chugach Railway just where we aimed to, but amighty lot of the Chugach reserve is out of timber line. That's why webanked on Foster's new train to hurry us through. But we found she hadquit running. The Government had got wind of the scheme and sent a bunchof rules and regulations. First came a heavy tax for operating the road;and next was an order to put spark arresters on all his engines. He onlyhad two first-class ones and a couple of makeshifts to haul his gravelcars; and his sparks would have froze, likely, where they lit, but therehe was, tied up on the edge of a fill he had counted on finishing upbefore his crew went out for the winter, and the nearest spark arresterfarther off than Christmas. "

A ripple of amusement ran through the crowded room, but little Banks stoodwaiting frostily. When his glance caught the judge's smile, his eyesscintillated their blue light. "Likely Foster would have sent his orderout and had those arresters shipped around Cape Horn from New York, " headded. "They'd probably been in time for spring travel; but he openedanother bunch of mail and found there wouldn't be any more sparks. Washington, D. C. , had shut down his coal mine. "

Mr. Bromley had no further questions to ask. He seemed preoccupied andpassed the recess that followed the prospector's testimony in pacing thecorridor. Lucky Banks had been suggested as an intelligent and honestfellow on whom the Government might rely; but his statements failed todovetail with his knowledge of Alaska and the case, and after theintermission Tisdale was called. 

The moment he was sworn, Miles Feversham was on his feet. He held in hishand a magazine, in which during the recess, he had been engrossed, andhis forefinger kept the place. 

"I object to this witness, " he said sonorously and waited while a stir, like a gust of wind in a wood, swept the courtroom, and the jurystraightened, alert. "I object, not because he defrauded the widow ofDavid Weatherbee out of her half interest in the Aurora mine, though, gentlemen, you know this to be an open fact, but for the reason that he isa criminal, self-confessed, who should be serving a prison sentence, and acriminal's testimony is not allowable in a United States court. "

Before he finished speaking, or the Court had recovered from the shock, Mr. Bromley had taken a bundle of papers from his pocket and stepped closeto the jury box. 

"This is an infamous fabrication, " he exclaimed. "It was calculated tosurprise us, but it finds us prepared. In ten minutes we shall prove itwas planned six months ago to defame the character of the Government'switness at this trial. I have here, gentlemen, a copy of the Alaska recordshowing the transfer of David Weatherbee's interest in the Aurora mine toHollis Tisdale; it bears the signature of his wife. But this extract fromMr. Tisdale's will, which was drawn shortly after his return from Alaska, last year, and while he was dangerously ill in Washington, proves how farit was from his intention to defraud the widow of David Weatherbee. " HereMr. Bromley read the clause. 

Tisdale, standing at ease, with his hand resting on his chair, glancedfrom the attorney to Foster. No mask covered his transparent face; thedark circles under his fine, expressive eyes betrayed how nearlythreadbare his hope was worn. Then, suddenly, in the moment he metTisdale's look, wonder, swift intelligence, contrition, and the gratitudeof his young, sorely tried spirit flashed from his countenance. To Hollisit became an illuminated scroll. 

"As to the main charge, " resumed Mr. Bromley, "that is ridiculous. It isbased on an unfortunate accident to an Indian child years ago. Thedistorted yarn was published in a late issue of a sensational magazine. Nodoubt, most of you have read it, since it was widely circulated. Different--isn't it?--from that other story of Mr. Tisdale which came downfrom Cascade tunnel. Gentlemen, I have the letter that was enclosed withthe manuscript that was submitted to _Sampson's Magazine_. It was notwritten by the author, James Daniels, but by a lady, who had offered todispose of the material for him, and who, without his knowledge, substituted a revised copy. "

Miles Feversham had subsided, dumbfounded, into his chair; hisself-sufficiency had deserted him; for a moment the purple color surged inhis face; his chagrin overwhelmed him. But Marcia, seated in the front rowoutside the bar, showed no confusion. Her brilliant, compelling eyes wereon her husband. It was as though she wished to reinforce him, and at thesame time convey some urgent, vital thought. He glanced around and, reading the look, started again to his feet. He began to retract hisdenunciation. It was evident he had been misinformed; he offered hisapologies to the witness and asked that the case be resumed. But theprosecuting attorney, disregarding him, continued to explain. "In theDaniels' manuscript, gentlemen, a coroner's inquest exonerated the man whowas responsible for the death of the papoose; this the magazinesuppressed. I am able to offer in evidence James Daniels' affidavit. "

Then, while the jury gathered these varying ideas in fragments, LuckyBanks' treble rose. "Let's hear what the lady wrote. " And some one at theback of the courtroom said in a deep voice; "Read the lady's letter. "

It seemed inevitable. Mr. Bromley had separated a letter from the bundleof papers. Involuntarily Marcia started up. But the knocking of the gavel, sounding smartly, insistently, above the confusion, brought unexpecteddeliverance. 

"It is unnecessary to further delay this Court with this issue, " announcedthe judge. "The case before the jury already has dragged through nearlyfour weeks, and it should be conducted as expeditiously as possible to aclose. Mr. Bromley, the witness is sustained. "

Marcia settled back in her place; Miles Feversham, like a man who hasslipped on the edge of a chasm, sat a moment longer, gripping the arms ofhis chair; then his shifting look caught Frederic's wide-eyed gaze ofuncomprehending innocence, and he weakly smiled. 

"Mr. Tisdale, " began the prosecution, putting aside his papers andendeavoring to focus his mind again on the case, "you have spent someyears with the Alaska division of the Geological Survey?"

"Every open season and some of the winters for a period of ten years, withthe exception of three which I also spent in Alaska. "

"And you are particularly familiar with the locality included in theChugach forest reserve, I understand, Mr. Tisdale. Tell us a little aboutit. It contains vast reaches of valuable and marketable timber, does itnot?"

The genial lines crinkled lightly in Tisdale's face. "The Chugach forestcontains some marketable timber on the lower Pacific slopes, " he replied, "where there is excessive precipitation and the influence of the warmJapan current, but along the streams on the other side of the divide thereare only occasional growths of scrubby spruce, hardly suitable fortelegraph poles or even railroad ties. " He paused an instant then went onmellowly: "Gifford Pinchot was thousands of miles away; he never had seenAlaska, when he suggested that the Executive set aside the Chugach forestreserve. No doubt he believed there was valuable timber on those loftypeaks and glaciers, but I don't know how he first heard of a Chugachforest, unless"--he halted again and looked at the jury, while the humordeepened in his voice--"those Pennsylvania contractors, who were shippingcoal around Cape Horn to supply the Pacific navy, took the chance of therebeing trees in those mountains and interested the Government in saving thetimber--to conserve the coal. "

A ripple of laughter passed over the jury and on through the courtroom. Even the presiding judge smiled, and Mr. Bromley hurried to say: "Tell ussomething about that Alaska coal, Mr. Tisdale. You have found vast bodies--have you not?--of a very high grade; to compare favorably withPennsylvania coal. "

"The Geodetic Survey estimates there are over eight millions of acres ofcoal land already known in Alaska, " replied Hollis statistically. "Morethan is contained in all Pennsylvania, West Virginia, and Ohio combined. It is of all grades. The Bonnifield near Fairbanks, far in the interior, is the largest field yet discovered, and in one hundred and twenty-twosquare miles of it that have been surveyed, there are about ten billionsof tons. Cross sections show veins two hundred and thirty-one feet thick. This coal is lignite. "

"How about the Matanuska fields?" asked Mr. Bromley. 

"The Matanuska cover sixty-five thousand acres; the coal is a high gradebituminous, fit for steam and coking purposes. There are also some veinsof anthracite. I consider the Matanuska the best and most important coalyet discovered in Alaska, and with the Bering coal, which is similarthough more broken, these fields should supply the United States forcenturies to come. "

Mr. Bromley looked at the jury. His smile said:

"You heard that, gentlemen?" Then, his glance returning to the witness:

"Why the most important?" he asked. 

"Because all development, all industry, in the north depends on theopening up of such a body of coal. And these fields are the mostaccessible to the coast. A few hundreds of miles of railroad, theextension of one or two of the embryo lines on which construction has beensuspended, would make the coal available on Prince William Sound. Used bythe Pacific Navy, it would save the Government a million dollars a year ontransportation. "

The prosecuting attorney looked at the jury again in triumph. "And that, gentlemen, is why the Prince William Development Company was so ready tofinance one of those embryo railroads; why those Matanuska coal claimswere located by the syndicate's stenographers, bookkeepers, any employeedown here in their Seattle offices. Mr. Tisdale, if those patents had beenallowed and the claims had been turned over to the company, would it nothave given the Morganstein interests a monopoly on Alaska coal?"

Tisdale paused a thoughtful moment. "No, at least only temporarily, if atall. Out of those eight millions of acres of coal land already discoveredin Alaska, not more than thirty-two thousand acres have been staked--onlyone claim, an old and small mine on the coast, has been allowed. " Hisglance moved slowly over the jury, from face to face, and he went onevenly: "You can't expect capital to invest without some inducement. TheNorthern Pacific, the first trans-continental railroad in the UnitedStates, received enormous land grants along the right of way; but thePrince William Development Company, which intends ultimately to bridgedistances as vast, to tap the unknown resources of the Alaska interior, has not asked for concessions, beyond the privilege to develop suchproperties as it may have acquired by location and purchase. Surely thebenefit that railroad would be in opening the country to settlement and inthe saving of human life, should more than compensate for those fewhundreds of acres of the Government's coal. "

"Mr. Tisdale, " said the attorney sharply, "that, in an employee of theGovernment, is a strange point of view. "

Tisdale's hands sought his pockets; he returned Mr. Bromley's look withhis steady, upward gaze from under slightly frowning brows. "Theperspective changes at close range, " he said. "The Government knows lessabout its great possession of Alaska than England knew about her Americancolonies, one hundred and fifty years ago. The United States had ownedAlaska seventeen years before any form of government was establishedthere; more than thirty before a criminal code was provided, andthirty-three years before she was given a suitable code of civil laws. Now, to-day, there are no laws operative in Alaska under which title maybe acquired to coal land. Alaska has yielded hundreds of millions ofdollars from her placers, her fisheries, and furs, but the only thing theGovernment ever did for Alaska was to import reindeer for the use of theEsquimos. "

Another ripple of laughter passed through the courtroom; even the judge onthe bench smiled. But Mr. Bromley's face was a study. He began to fear theeffect of Tisdale's astonishing statements on the jury, while at the sametime he was impelled to listen. In the moment he hesitated over aquestion, Hollis lifted his head and said mellowly: "The sins of Congresshave not been in commission but in omission. They are under theimpression, far away there in Washington, that Alaska is too bleak, toobarren for permanent settlement; that the white population is a floatingone, made up chiefly of freebooters and outlaws. But we know thefoundations of an empire have been laid there; that, allowed the use ofthe fuel Nature has so bountifully stored there and granted a fair measureof encouragement to transportation, those great inland tundras would be aspopulous as Sweden; as progressive as Germany. " His glance moved to thejury; all the nobility, the fineness, the large humanity of the man wasexpressed in that moment in his face; a subdued emotion pervaded hisvoice. "We know the men who forged a way through that mighty bulwark ofmountains to the interior were brave, resourceful, determined--they had tobe--but, too, they saw a broad horizon; they had patriotism; if there areany Americans left who have inherited a spark of the old Puritan spirit, they are the ones who have cast their fortunes with Alaska. "

He paused again briefly, and his eyes rested on Foster. "Do you know?" heresumed, and his glance returned to the prosecuting attorney, "when I cameout last season, I saw a ship at the terminus of the new Copper River andNorthwestern Railroad discharging Australian coal. This with the greatBering fields lying at their side door! The people of Cordova wanted tosee that road finished; the life of their young seaport depended on it--but--that night they threw the whole of that cargo of foreign coal intothe waters of Prince William Sound. It is referred to, now, as the'Cordova tea-party. '"

In the silence that held the courtroom, Tisdale stood still regarding thelawyer. His expression was most engaging, a hint of humor lurked at thecorners of his mouth, yet it seemed to veil a subtle meaning. Then thejury began to laugh quietly, with a kind of seriousness, and again thejudge straightened, checking a smile. It was all very disturbing to Mr. Bromley. He had been assured by one high in the administration that hemight rely on Tisdale's magnetic personality and practical knowledge aswell as his technical information in prosecuting the case; but while hehesitated over the question he wished to ask, Tisdale said mellowly, nodoubt to bridge the awkward pause: "The Copper River and Northwesterncouldn't mine their coal, and they couldn't import any, so they changedtheir locomotives to oil burners. "

Then Mr. Bromley said abruptly: "This is all very interesting, Mr. Tisdale, but it is the Chugach Railway and not the Copper RiverNorthwestern, that bears on our case. You have been over that route, Ibelieve?"

"Yes. " Tisdale's voice quickened. "I used the roadbed going to and fromthe Matanuska Valley. Also I went over the proposed route once with Mr. Foster and the civil engineers. "

"Was it, in your opinion, a bona fide railroad, Mr. Tisdale? Or simply alure to entice people to make coal locations in order that they might bebought after the patents were issued?"

"It was started in good faith. " The steel rang, a warning note, in hisvoice. "The largest stockholder had spent nearly a hundred thousanddollars in opening his coal claim. He was in need of immediatetransportation. "

"This was after the Chugach Company consolidated with the Prince Williamsyndicate, Mr. Tisdale?"

"No, sir. It was previous to that time. The Chugach Railway andDevelopment Company had chosen one of the finest harbors in Alaska for aterminus. It was doubly protected from the long Pacific swell by theouter, precipitous shore of Prince William Sound. But their greatestengineering problem met them there at the start. It was necessary to crossa large glacier back of the bay. There was no possible way to build aroundit; the only solution was a bore under the ice. The building of such atunnel meant labor and great expense. And it was not a rich company; itwas made up principally of small stockholders, young men, just out ofcollege some of them, who had gone up there with plenty of enthusiasm andcourage to invest in the enterprise, but very little money. They did theirown assessment work, dug like any coal miners with pick and shovel, cutand carried the timbers to brace their excavations under Mr. Foster'sinstructions. And when construction commenced on the railroad, they camedown to do their stunt at packing over the glacier--grading began from theupper side--and sometimes they cut ties. "

"And meantime, " said the attorney brusquely, "Mr. Foster, who wasresponsible I believe, was trying to interest other capital to build thetunnel. "

"Yes. And meantime, the Prince William syndicate started a parallelrailroad to the interior from the next harbor to the southwestward. It wasdifficult to interest large capital with competition so close. " Tisdalepaused; his glance moved from Mr. Bromley to the jury, his voice took itsminor note. "Stuart Foster did hold himself responsible to those youngfellows. He had known most of them personally in Seattle; they were apicked company for the venture. He had youth and courage himself, in thosedays, but he knew Alaska--he had been there before and made good. He hadtheir confidence. He was that kind of man; one to inspire trust on sight, anywhere. " Hollis paused another instant, while his eyes turned to Foster, and involuntarily, one after the other, the jury followed his look. "Itwas then, " he added, "when other capital failed, the Chugach Company gaveup their seaport and consolidated with the Prince William syndicate. "

"Thank you, Mr. Tisdale, " said the attorney for the prosecution. "That isall. "

Miles Feversham had, as Frederic afterward expressed it, "caught hissecond wind. " While he listened attentively to the testimony, he made somesweeping revisions in his notes for the argument which he was to open thefollowing day. He laughed at, while he congratulated himself, that theGovernment's star witness, of whom he had been so afraid, should haveproved so invaluable to the defense. And when court adjourned, and thetrio went down the steps to the street, he assured his brother-in-lawthere was a chance for him to escape, under Foster's cloak. To Marcia hesaid jocularly, though still in an undertone: "'Snatched like a brand fromthe burning!'" And he added: "My lady, had you consulted me, I should havesuggested the April issue. These magazines have a bad habit of arrivingtoo soon. "

Frederic, released from the long day's strain, did not take thisfacetiousness meekly, but Marcia was silent. For once the "brightestMorganstein" felt her eclipse. But while they stood on the curb, waitingfor the limousine to draw up, a newsboy called: "All about the Alaskabill! Home Rule for Alaska!"

The special delegate bought a copy, and Marcia drew close to his elbowwhile they scanned the message together. It was true. The bill, to whichthey both had devoted their energies that season in Washington, hadpassed. Feversham folded the paper slowly and met his wife's brilliantglance. It was as though she telegraphed: "Now, the President must name agovernor. "

CHAPTER XXXII

THE OTHER DOCUMENT

The argument, which Miles Feversham opened with unusual brilliancy thefollowing morning, was prolonged with varying degrees of heat to the closeof another week; then the jury, out less than two hours, brought in theirverdict of "Not Guilty. "

And that night, for the first time since Tisdale's return, Foster climbedto the eyrie in the Alaska building. "I came up to thank you, Hollis, " hebegan in his straightforward way. "It was breakers ahead when you turnedthe tide. But, " he added after a pause, "what will the President think ofyour views?"

Tisdale laughed softly. "He heard most of them before I left Washington, and this is what he thinks. "

As he spoke, he took a letter from the table which he gave to Foster. Itbore the official stamp and was an appointment to that position whichMiles Feversham had so confidently hoped, with Marcia's aid, to secure. 

"Well, that shows the President's good judgment!" Foster exclaimed andheld out his hand. "You are the one man broad enough to fit the place. "After a moment he said, "But it is going to leave you little time todevote to your own affairs. How about the Aurora?"

Tisdale did not reply directly. He rose and walked the length of thefloor. "That depends, " he said and stopped with his hands in his pocketsto regard Foster with the upward, appraising look from under knittingbrows. "I presume, Stuart, you are through with the syndicate?"

Foster colored. "I put in my resignation as mining engineer of the companyshortly after I came out, at the beginning of the year. "

"And while you were in the interior, " pursued Tisdale, "you were sent tothe Aurora to make a report. What did you think of the mine?"

"I thought Frederic Morganstein would be safe in bonding the property ifhe could interest you in selling; it looked better to me than even Banks'strike in the Iditarod. This season's clean-up should justify Weatherbee. "

"You mean in staying on at the risk of his reason and life?"

Foster nodded; a shadow crossed his open face. "I mean everything but--hisneglect to make final provision for his wife. "

Tisdale frowned. "There is where you make your mistake. Weatherbeepersisted as he did, in the face of defeat, for her sake. "

Foster laughed mirthlessly. "The proofs are otherwise. Look at things, once, from her side, " he broke out. "Think what it means to her to see yourealizing, from a few hundred dollars you could easily spare, this bigfortune. I know you've been generous, but after all, of what benefit toher is a bequest in your will, when now she has absolutely nothing butthat hole in the Columbia desert? Face it, be reasonable; you always havebeen in every way but this. I don't see how you can be so hard, knowingher now as you do. "

Tisdale turned to the window. "I have not been as hard as you think, " hesaid. "But it was necessary, in order to carry out Weatherbee's plans, to--do as I did. "

"That's the trouble. " Foster rose from his chair and went a few stepsnearer Tisdale. "You are the sanest man in the world in every way but one. But you can't think straight when it comes to Weatherbee. There is wherethe north got its hold on you. Can't you see it? Look at it through myeyes, or any one's. You did for David Weatherbee what one man in athousand might have done. And you've interested Lucky Banks in thatreclamation project; you've gone on yourself with his developments at theAurora. But there's one thing you've lost sight of--justice to BeatrizWeatherbee. You've done your best for him, but he is dead. Hollis, oldman, I tell you he is dead. And she is living. You have sent her, theproudest, sweetest woman on God's earth, to brave out her life in thatsage-brush wilderness. Can't you see you owe something to her?"

Tisdale did not reply. But presently he went over to his safe and took outthe two documents that were fastened together. This time it was the willhe returned to its place; the other paper he brought to Foster. "I amgoing to apologize for my estimate of Mrs. Weatherbee the night you sailednorth, " he said. "My judgment then, before I had seen her, was unfair; youwere right. But I could hardly have done differently in any case. Therewas danger that she would dispose of a half interest in the Aurora atonce, at any low price Frederic Morganstein might name. And you know thesyndicate's methods. I did not want a Morganstein partnership. But, later, at the time I had my will drawn, I saw this way. "

Foster took the document, but he did not read it immediately; he stoodlooking at Tisdale. "So you too were afraid of him. But I knew nothingabout Lucky Banks' option. It worried me, those endless nights up there inthe Iditarod, to think that in her extremity she might marry FredericMorganstein. There was a debt that pressed her. Did you know about that?"

"Yes. She called it a 'debt of honor. '"

"And you believed, as I did, that it was a direct loan to cover personalexpenses. After I came home, I found out she borrowed the money originallyof Miss Morganstein, to endow a bed in the children's hospital. Think ofit! And Mrs. Feversham, who took it off her sister's hands, transferredthe note to Morganstein. "

Tisdale did not say anything, but his rugged face worked a little, and heturned again to look out into the night. Foster moved nearer thereading-lamp and unfolded the document. It was a deed conveying, for aconsideration of one dollar, a half interest in the Aurora mine to BeatrizSilva Gonzales Weatherbee; provided said half interest be not sold, orparceled, or in any way disposed of for a period of five years. Her shareof the profits above operating expenses was to be paid in semi-annualdividends, and, as in the will, Stuart Emory Foster was named as trustee. 

Foster folded the document slowly. His glance moved to Tisdale, and hiseyes played every swift change from contrition to gratitude. Hollisturned. "I want you to take the management of the whole mine, " he saidmellowly. "At a salary of five thousand a year to start with. And as soonas you wish, you may deliver this deed. "

Foster's lips trembled a little. "You've made a mistake, " he saidunsteadily. Then: "Why don't you take it to her yourself, Hollis?" heasked. 

Tisdale was silent. He turned back to the window, and after an interval, Foster went over and stood beside him, looking down on the harbor lights. His arm went up around Tisdale's shoulder as he said: "If Weatherbee couldknow everything now; if he had loved her, put her first always, as youbelieve, do you think he would be any happier to see her punished likethis?"

Still Tisdale was silent. Then Foster's arm fell, and he said desperately:"Can't you see, Hollis? Weatherbee was greater than either of us, I grantthat. But the one thing in the world you are so sure he most desired--thelack of which wrecked his life--the one thing I have tried for the hardestand missed--has fallen to you. Go and ask her to sail to Alaska with you. You'll need her up there to carry the honors for you. You prize her, youlove her, --you know you do. "

CHAPTER XXXIII

THE CALF-BOUND NOTEBOOK

The statue was great. So Tisdale told Lucky Banks, that day the prospectormet him at the station and they motored around through the park. Thesculptor himself had said he must send people to Weatherbee when theywanted to see his best work. It was plain his subject had dominated him. He had achieved with the freedom of pose the suggestion of decision andpower that had been characteristic of David Weatherbee. Quick intelligencespoke in the face, yet the eyes held their expression of seeing a farhorizon. To Hollis, coming suddenly, as he did, upon the bronze figure inthe Wenatchee sunshine, it seemed to warm with a latent consciousness. Hefelt poignantly a sense of David's personality, as he had known him at thecrowning period of his life. 

"It suits me, " responded Banks. "My, yes, it's about as good a likeness aswe can get of Dave. " He put on his hat, which involuntarily he hadremoved, and started the car on around the curve. "But it's a mighty lotlike you. It crops out most in the eyes, seeing things off somewheres, clear out of sight, and the way you carry your size. You was a team. "

"I am sorry I missed those services, " said Tisdale. "I meant to be here. "

Banks nodded. "But it all went off fine. She agreed with me it was thebest place. If I was to go back to Alaska, and she was off somewheres on atrip, it would be sure to get taken care of here in the park; and, afterwards, when neither of us can come around to keep things in shape anymore. And I told her how the ranchers up and down the valley would get tofeeling acquainted and friendly with Dave, seeing his statue when they wasin town; and how the fruit-buyers and the pickers, and maybe the tourists, coming and going, would remember about him and tell everybody they knew;and how the school children would ask questions about the statue, thinkinghe was in the same class with Lincoln and Washington, and be alwaystelling how he was the first man that looked ahead and saw what water inthis valley could do. "

"You were right, Johnny. The memory of him will live and grow with thistown when the rest of us are forgotten. "

They had turned from the park and went speeding up between the rows of newpoplars along the Alameda, and the prospector's eyes moved over thereclaimed vale, where acres on acres of young fruit trees in cultivatedsquares crowded out the insistent sage. "And this town for a fact is boundto grow, " he said. 

Then at last, when Cerberus loomed near, and they entered the gap, thelittle man's big heart rose and his bleak face glowed, under Tisdale'sexpressions of wonder and approbation at the advance the vineyards andorchards had made, so soon after the consummation of the project. Fillersof alfalfa stretched along the spillways from the main canal like a greencarpet; strawberry plants were blossoming; grapes reached out paletendrils and many leaves. But, at the top of the pocket, where the roadbegan to lift gently in a double curve across the front of the bench, Hollis dismissed Banks and his red car and walked the rest of the way. Onthe rim of the level, near the solitary pine tree, he stopped to look downon the transformed vale, and suddenly, once more he seemed to feel David'spresence. It was as though he stood beside him and saw all this awakening, this responding of the desert to his project. Almost it compensated--forthose four days. 

Almost! Tisdale drew his hand across his eyes and turned to follow thedrive between the rows of nodding narcissus. The irony of it! ThatWeatherbee should have lived to find the Aurora; that, with many times theneeded capital in sight, he should have lost. The perfume of the flowersfilled the warm atmosphere; the music of running water was everywhere. Ashe left the side of the flume, the silver note of the fountain came to himfrom the patio, then, like a mirage between him and the low Spanishbuilding, rose that miniature house he had found in the Alaska wilderness, with the small snow figure before it, holding a bundle in her arms. 

The vision passed. But that image with the bundle was the one unfinishedproblem in the project he had come to solve. 

He entered the court and saw on his right an open door and, across thewide room, Beatriz Weatherbee. She was seated at a quaint secretary onwhich were several bundles of papers, and the familiar box that hadcontained David's letters and watch. At the moment Tisdale discovered her, she was absorbed in a photograph she held in her hands, but at the soundof his step in the patio she turned and rose to meet him. Her face wasradiant, yet she looked at him through arrested tears. 

"I am sorry if I startled you, " he said conventionally. "Banks brought mefrom the station, but he left me to walk up the bench. "

"I should have seen the red car down the gap had I been at the window, "she replied, "but I was busy putting away papers. Freight has been movingslowly over the Great Northern, and my secretary arrived only to-day. Itbore the trip very well, considering its age. It belonged to mygreat-grandfather, Don Silva Gonzales. He brought it from Spain, butElizabeth says it might have been made for this room. She is walkingsomewhere in the direction of the spring. "

While she spoke, she touched her cheeks and eyes swiftly with herhandkerchief and led the way to some chairs between the secretary and thegreat window that overlooked the vale. Tisdale did not look at herdirectly; he wished to give her time to cover the emotion he hadsurprised. 

"I should say the room was built for Don Silva's desk, " he amended. "And--do you know?--this view reminds me of a little picture of Granada, awater-color of my mother's, that hung in my room when I was a boy. Butthis pocket has changed some since we first saw it; your dragon's teethare drawn. "

"Isn't it marvelous how the expression of the whole mountain has altered?"she responded. "There, at the end of the pines, that looked like abristling mane, the green gables of Mrs. Banks' home have changed thecontour. And the Chelan peaks are showing now beyond it. That day thefarther ones were obscured. But we watched the rain tramp up HesperidesVale, you remember, and swing off unexpectedly to the near summits. Therewas a rainbow, and I said that perhaps somewhere in this valley I shouldfind my pot of gold. "

"I remember. And I shouldn't be surprised if you do. "

"Do you think I do not know I have already?" she asked. "Do you think Ihave no appreciation, no gratitude? Why, even had I been too dull to seeit, Elizabeth would have told me that this house alone, to say nothing ofthe project, must have cost a good deal of money; and that, no matter howdeeply Mr. Banks may have felt his obligation to David, it was not inreason he should have allowed everything to revert to me. But I told him Ishould consider the investment as a loan, and now, since he has let meknow the truth"--her voice fluctuated softly--"I shall make it a debt ofhonor just the same. Sometime--I shall repay you. "

It was very clear to Tisdale that though she saw the property had sogreatly increased in value, and that the reclamation movement in the outervale made the tract readily salable, she no longer considered placing iton the market. "I thought Banks showed you a way easily to cancel thatloan, " he began. But meeting her look, he paused; his glance returned tothe window while he felt in his pocket for that deed Foster had refused tobring. It was going to be more difficult than he had foreseen to offer itto her. "Madam, " and compelling his eyes to brave hers, he slightlyfrowned, "your share in the Aurora mine should pay you enough in dividendsthe next season or two to refund all that has been expended on thisproject. "

"My share in the Aurora mine?" she repeated. "But I see, I see. You havebeen maligned into giving me the interest David conveyed to you. Oh, Mr. Banks told me about that. How you were attacked at the trial; the use thatwas made of that Indian story in the magazine; that monstrous editorialnote. "

Tisdale smiled. "That had nothing to do with it. This deed was drawn lastyear as soon as I reached Washington. David knew the value of the Aurora. That is the reason he risked another winter there, in the face of--all--that threatened him. And when he felt the fight was going against him, heturned his interest over to me, not only as security on the small loan Iadvanced to him, but because I was his partner, and he could trust me tofinish, his development work and put the mine on a paying basis. That isaccomplished. There is no reason now that I should not transfer his shareback to you. "

He rose to give her the deed, and she took it with reluctance and glancedit over. "I think it is arranged about as David would have wished, " headded. "He had confidence in Foster. "

She looked up. "Mr. Foster knows how I regard the matter. I told him Iwould not accept an interest in the Aurora mine. I said all the gold inAlaska could not compensate you for--what you did. Besides, I do notbelieve as you do, Mr. Tisdale. I think David meant his share should befinally yours. "

Hollis was silent. He stood looking off again over Cerberus to the loftierChelan peaks. For a moment she sat regarding his broad back; her liptrembled a little, and a tenderness, welling from depths of compassion, brimmed her eyes. "You see I cannot possibly accept it, " she said, androse to return the deed to him. 

She had forgotten the photograph, which dropped from her lap, and Tisdalestooped to pick it up. It was lying face upward on the floor, and he sawit was the picture of a child; then involuntarily he stopped to scan it, and it came over him this small face, so beautifully molded, so full ofintelligence and charm, was a reproduction of Weatherbee in miniature; yetretouched by a blend of the mother; her eyes under David's level brows. Heput the picture in her hand and an unspoken question flashed in the lookthat met hers. 

Since he had not relieved her of the deed, she laid it down on thesecretary to take the photograph. 

"This is a picture of little Silva, " she said. "It would have made adifference about the share in the Aurora if he had lived. He must havebeen provided for. David would have seen to that. "

"There was a child!" His voice rang softly like a vibrant string. "Youspoke of him that night you were lost above Scenic Springs, but I thoughtit was a fancy of delirium. It seemed incredible that David should nothave told me if he had a son. "

She did not answer directly, but nodded a little and moved back to herchair. 

"He was christened Silva Falconer, for my mother's father and mine, " shesaid. "They both were greatly disappointed in not having a son. I am goingto tell you about him, only it will be a long story; please be seated. Andit would be easier if you would not look at me. "

She waited while he settled again in his chair and turned his eyes to theblue mountain tops. She was still able to see his face. "Silva was oversix months old when this photograph was taken, " she began. "It was lost, with the letter to David that enclosed it, on some terrible Alaska trail. Afterwards, when the mailbag was recovered and the letter was returned tome through the dead-letter office, two years had passed, and our littleboy was--gone. You must understand I expected David back that firstwinter, and when word came that his expedition to the interior had failed, and he had arranged to stay in the north in order to make an early startin the following spring, I did not want to spoil his plans. So I answeredas gayly as I could and told him it would give me an opportunity to make along visit home to California. I went far south to Jacinta and Carlos. They were caretakers at the old hacienda. My mother had managed that, withthe people who bought the rancheria and built the hotel and sanitarium. Jacinta had been her nurse and mine. She was very experienced. But Silvawas born lame. He could not use his lower limbs. A great specialist, whocame to the hotel, said he might possibly recover under treatment, but ifhe should not in a year or two, certain cords must be cut to allow him tosit in a wheel chair, and in that case I must give up hope he would everwalk. But--the treatment was very painful--Jacinta could not bear to--torture him; I could not afford a trained nurse; so--I did everything. Hewas the dearest baby; so lovable. He never was cross, but he used tonestle his cheek in my neck and explain how it hurt and coax me not to. Not in words, but I understood--every sound. And he understood me, I know. 'You are going to blame me, by and by, if I stop, ' I would say, over andover; 'you are going to blame me for bringing you into the world. '"

Her voice broke; her breast labored with short, quick breaths, as thoughshe were climbing some sharp ascent. Tisdale did not look at her; his facestirred and settled in grim lines. 

"I could not write all this about our baby, " she went on, "and I toldmyself if the treatment failed it would be soon enough for David to knowof Silva when he came home. There was nothing he could do, and to share myanxiety might hamper him in his work. He wrote glowingly of the new placerhe had discovered, and that was a relief to me, for I was obliged to askhim to send me a good deal of money, --the specialist's account had been solarge. I believed he would start south when the Alaska season closed, forhe had written I might expect him then, with his pockets full of golddust, and I made my letters entertaining--or tried to--so he need not feelany need to hurry. At last, one morning in the bath, when Silva was fivemonths old, he moved his right limb voluntarily. I shall never forget. Itrenewed my courage and my faith. At the end of another month he moved theleft one, and after that, gradually, full use came to them both. It wasthen, when the paralysis was mastered, I sent the letter that was lost. Atthe same time David wrote that he must spend a second winter in Alaska. But before that news reached me, my reaction set in. I was so ill I wascarried, unconscious, to the sanitarium. And, while I was there, Silva, who had grown so sturdy and was creeping everywhere, followed his kitteninto the garden, and a little later old Jacinta found him in the arroyo. There was only a little water running but--he had fallen--face down. "

Tisdale rose. Meeting her look, the emotion that was the surface stir ofshaken depths swept his face. Then, as though to blot out therecollection, she pressed her fingers to her eyes. 

"And David was thousands of miles away, " he said. "You braved that alone, like the soldier you are. "

"When I read David's letter, " she went on, "he was winter-bound in theinterior. A reply could not have reached him until spring. And meantimeElizabeth Morganstein came with her mother to the hotel. We had been, friends at boarding-school, and she persuaded me to go north to Seattlewith them. Later, after the _Aquila_ was launched in the spring, I wasinvited to join the family on a cruise up the inside passage and acrossthe top of the Pacific to Prince William Sound. It seemed so much easierto tell David everything than to write, so--I only let him know I intendedto sail to Valdez with friends and would go on by mail steamer to Sewardto visit him. That had been his last post-office address, and I believedhe expected to be in that neighborhood when the season opened. But ourstay was lengthened at Juneau, where we were entertained by acquaintancesof Mrs. Feversham's, and we spent a long time around Taku glacier and theMuir. I missed my steamer connections, and there was not another boat duewithin a week. But the weather was delightful, and Mr. Morgansteinsuggested taking me on in the yacht. Then Mrs. Feversham proposed a sidetrip along Columbia glacier and into College fiord. It was all verywonderful to me, and inspiring; the salt air had been a restorative fromthe start. And I saw no reason to hurry the party. David would understand. So, the second mail steamer passed us, and finally, when we reachedSeward, David had gone back to the interior. The rest--you know. "

"You mean, " said Tisdale slowly, "you heard about Mrs. Barbour. "

She bowed affirmatively. The color swept in a wave to her face; her lashesfell. 

"Mrs. Feversham heard about it, how David had brought her down from theinterior. I saw the cabin he had furnished for her, and she herself, sewing at the window. Her face was beautiful. "

There was a silence, then Hollis said: "So you came back on the _Aquila_to Seattle. But you wrote; you explained about the child?"

She shook her head. "I waited to hear from David first. I did not know, then, that the letter with Silva's picture was lost. "

Tisdale squared his shoulders, looking off again to the snow-peaks aboveCerberus. 

"Consider!" She rose with an outward movement of her hands, like onegroping in the dark for a closed door. "It was a terrible mistake, but Idid not know David as you knew him. My father, who was dying, arranged ourmarriage. I was very young and practically without money in a big city;there was not another relative in the world who cared what became of me. And, in any case, even had I known the meaning of love and marriage, inthat hour, --when I was losing him, --I must have agreed to anything heasked. We had been everything to each other; everything. But I've been aproud woman; sensitive to slight. It was in the blood--both sides. And Ihad been taught early to cover my feelings. My father had adored mymother; he used to remind me she was patrician to the finger-tips, andthat I should not wear my heart on my sleeve if I wished to be like her. And, when I visited my grandfather, Don Silva, in the south, he would say:'Beatriz, remember the blood of generations of soldiers is bottled in you;carry yourself like the last Gonzales, with some fortitude. ' So--atSeward--I remembered. "

Her voice, while she said this, almost failed, but every word reachedTisdale. He felt, without seeing, the something that was appeal yet notappeal, that keyed her whole body and shone like a changing light andshade in her face. "I told myself I would not be sacrificed, effaced, " shewent on. "It was my individuality against Fate. Since little Silva wasdead, my life was my own to shape as I might. I did not hear from Davidfor a long time; he wrote less and less frequently, more briefly everyyear. He never spoke of the baby, and I believed he must have heardthrough some friend in California of Silva's death. Nothing was left totell. He never spoke of his home-coming, and I did not; I dreaded it toomuch. Whenever the last steamers of the season were due, I nerved myselfto look the passenger lists over; and when his name was missing, it was areprieve. Neither my father nor my grandfather had believed in divorce; intheir eyes it was disgrace. It seemed right, for Silva's sake, out of therich placers David continued to find, he should contribute to my support. So--I lived my life--the best I was able. I had many interests, and alwaysone morning of each week I spent among the children at the hospital whereI had endowed the Silva Weatherbee bed. "

She paused so long that Tisdale turned. She seemed very tired. The patientlines, fine as a thread, deepened perceptibly at the corners of her mouth. He hurried to save her further explanation. "Foster told me, " he said. "Itwas a beautiful memorial. Sometime I should like to go there with you. Iknow you met the first expense of that endowment with a loan from MissMorganstein, which of course you expected to cancel soon, when you hadfound David at Seward. I understand how, when the note came into herbrother's hands, your only chance to meet it at once was through a sale ofthis land. And I have thought since I knew this, that evening aboard the_Aquila_, when you risked Don Silva's ruby, it was to make the yearlypayment at the hospital. "

"Yes, it was. But the option money from Mr. Banks made it possible to meetall my debts. I did not know they were only assumed--by you. Though, looking back, I wonder I failed to see the truth. "

With this she turned and took up the photograph which she had laid on thesecretary, and while her glance rested on the picture, Tisdale's regardedher face. "So, " he said then, "when the lost letter came back to you, youkept it; Weatherbee never knew. "

She looked up. "Yes, I kept it. By that time I believed little Silva'scoming and going could make little difference to him. "

"And you went on believing all you had heard at Seward?"

She bowed again affirmatively. "Until you told me the true story aboutMrs. Barbour that night on the mountain road. I know now that once he musthave loved me, as you believed. This house, which is built so nearly likethe old hacienda where I was born, must have been planned for me. But, afterwards, when he thought I had failed him, when he contrasted me withMrs. Barbour, her devotion to her husband, it was different. "

She laid the photograph down again to draw the tin box forward. Theletters were on the desk with David's watch, but there still remained acalf-bound notebook, such as surveyors use in field work. It fitted snuglyenough for a false bottom, and she was obliged to reverse the box toremove it, prying slightly with a paper-knife. Tisdale's name was letteredacross the cover, and the first pages were written in his clear, finedraughtsman's hand; then the characters changed to Weatherbee's. Sheturned to the last ones. 

"This is a book you left among some old magazines at David's camp, " sheexplained. "He carried it with him until he discovered the Aurora. Hebegan to use it as a sort of diary. Sometime you will want to read it all, but please read these last notes and this letter now. "

She waited a moment, then as he took up the letter and began to unfold it, she turned and went out into the patio. 

The letter was from Lilias Barbour. It was friendly, earnest, full of herchild and a gentle solicitude for Weatherbee. Hollis read it throughtwice, slowly. The last paragraph he went over a third time. "You arestaying too long in that bleak country, "--so it ran. "Come back to theStates, at least for a winter. If you do not, in the spring, Bee and I aregoing to Alaska to learn the reason. We owe it to you. "

The date was the end of August, of the same year David had written thatfinal letter which reached him the following spring at Nome. But the dateon the open page of the notebook was the fifteenth of January of thatwinter, his last at the Aurora mine. 

"Last night I dreamed of Beatriz, " it began. "I thought I went down toSeward to meet her, and when the steamer came, I saw her standing on theforward deck, waving her hand gaily and smiling just as she did that day Ileft her at Seattle so long ago. Then, as the ship came alongside thedock, and she walked down the gangway, and I took her hand to kiss her, her face suddenly changed. She was not Beatriz; she was Lilias. My God, ifit had been Lilias! Why, she would be here now, she and little Bee, filling this frozen cabin with summer. "

The final date was two months later. 

"Still snowing, " it ran. "Snowing. God, how I want to break away from thishole. Get out somewhere, where men are alive and doing things. Nothing ismoving here but the snow and those two black buttes out there. They keepcrowding closer through the smother, watching everything I do. I've warnedthem to keep back. They must, or I'll blow them off the face of the earth. Oh, I'll do it, if it takes all that's left of the dynamite. I won't havethem threatening Lilias when she comes. She is coming; she said she would, unless I went out to the States. And I can't go; I haven't heard fromTisdale. I never have told her about those buttes. It's unusual; she mightnot believe it; she would worry and think, perhaps, I am growing likeBarbour. God! Suppose I am. Suppose she should come up here in thiswilderness to find me a wreck like him. She must not come. I've got toprevent it. But I've offered my half interest in the Aurora to Tisdale. Hewill take it. He never failed me yet. "

Tisdale closed the book and laid it down. Furrows seamed his face, changing, re-forming, to the inner upheaval. After awhile, he liftedWeatherbee's watch from the desk and mechanically pressed the spring. Thelower case opened, but the picture he remembered was not there. In itsplace was the face of the other child, his namesake, "Bee. "

Out in the patio the pool rippled ceaselessly; the fountain threw itssilver ribbon of spray, and Beatriz waited, listening, with her eyesturned to the room she had left. At last she heard his step. It was thetread of a man whose decision was made. She sank down on the curb of thebasin near one of the palms. Behind her an open door, creaking in thelight wind, swung wide, and beyond it the upper flume stretched back tothe natural reservoir where she had been imprisoned by the fallen pinetree. His glance, as he crossed the court, moved from her through thisdoor and back to her face. 

"You were right, " he said. "But it would have been different if David hadknown about his child. His great heart was starved. "

She was silent. Her glance fell to the fountain. A ray of sunshineslanting across it formed a rainbow. 

"But my mistake was greater than yours, " he went on, and his voice struckits minor chord; "I have no excuse for throwing away those four days. Inever can repair that, but I pledge myself to make you forget my injusticeto you. "

At this she rose. "You were not unjust--knowing David as you did. Youtaught me how fine, how great he was. Silva--would have been proud of hisname. "

There was another silence. Tisdale looked off again through the open doorto the distant basin, and her glance returned to the fountain. "See!" sheexclaimed. "A double rainbow!"

"Fate is with us again, " he replied. "She's promising a better fight. Butthere is one debt more, soldier, " and, catching her swift look, he saw thesparkles break softly in her eyes. "My ship sails for Alaska the tenth; Ishall stay indefinitely, and I want you to pay me--in full--before I go. "

THE END