Kitabı oku: «The Award of Justice; Or, Told in the Rockies: A Pen Picture of the West», sayfa 13

CHAPTER XXVIII

The next evening, as Houston stood for a few moments in the little porch, watching a game of lawn tennis which had been hastily improvised by the merry crowd, Lyle suddenly left the group of players and joined him. Looking at him rather archly, she asked:

“Do you expect to remain out as late to-night as you did last night?”

“I don’t know just how late I may be detained,” he answered, smiling, “Why? are you keeping a watchful eye upon me?”

“Certainly,” she replied, “Mr. Rutherford used to call himself your guardian, and now that he is gone, I must make his place good;” then she added more seriously, “This is an altogether different country from what you have been accustomed to; it is not particularly pleasant or safe for one to keep late hours here, especially if he has enemies.”

Houston was somewhat surprised by this second warning, but he answered lightly:

“Yes, I know I am in what Ned used to call ‘the camp of the Philistines,’ but you do not think I have any dangerous enemies, do you?”

“It is only fear of detection that keeps some of them from being dangerous,” said Lyle, who saw Miss Gladden approaching, “don’t give them any opportunities for working their spite in the dark.”

Miss Gladden just then came up, and Lyle soon resumed her place among the players.

“Going out again this evening, Mr. Houston?”

“Yes, Miss Gladden,” replied Houston with mock gravity.

“Excuse me, Everard,” she answered, blushing, “but when so many strangers are about, I am obliged to be very circumspect, you know.”

“There are no strangers within hearing at present, Leslie,” he replied, “but isn’t it nearly time for this crowd to take its departure?”

“Yes, they expect to leave to-morrow.”

“Thank Heaven!” exclaimed Houston devoutly.

Miss Gladden laughed merrily.

“Well,” he continued rather savagely, “I hope, after they are gone, we can enjoy our evenings again as we used to. For the last ten days, I have scarcely had an opportunity for a word with you, unless we deliberately gave the whole company the cold shoulder, which, of course, would not answer.”

“And so,” said Miss Gladden laughing, “you wreak your revenge upon poor me these last two evenings, by taking yourself away, where I cannot even have the satisfaction of seeing you, while I talk to somebody else.”

Houston smiled; “I am obliged to go out this evening, Leslie, I have an engagement to-night, with Jack, at his cabin.”

“With Jack!” exclaimed Miss Gladden, “then you have made his acquaintance!”

“No, I can scarcely say that, for I never exchanged a half dozen words with him before last evening. This interview to-night is wholly on business.”

“Well,” said Miss Gladden, who saw the players beckoning to her, “I am glad you are going to meet him. I saw him the other day, and had a talk with him regarding Lyle, and I wanted to tell you about it, but have had no opportunity. I think you will find him one of the most perfect gentlemen you ever met,” and with a little farewell wave of the hand, she left him to rejoin the players who were waiting for her.

Half an hour later, Houston found himself in the inner room of the little cabin, alone with Jack, while at the outside door, Rex was stationed as guard.

Already the twilight was beginning to gather in the little room, but even in its soft, shadowy light, Houston noted the evidences, existing on all sides, of a refined nature, a nature keenly appreciative of beauty in all its forms.

“I hope,” said Jack, seating himself near his guest, “that you will excuse the gathering darkness; I thought it more prudent not to have a light, as it might attract attention, I am in the habit of sitting so much in the twilight, myself.”

“A light is not necessary,” Houston replied, “the twilight is very pleasant, and the moon will be up presently, and will afford us all the light we need.”

There was a moment or two of silence, while Houston waited for his companion to broach the subject of the evening. He was anxious to ascertain how much regarding himself and his errand there in the camp, Jack really knew, and more particularly, to learn, if possible, how he had become possessed of his knowledge.

Jack, on his part, was wondering whether, with their brief acquaintance, he could give Houston any assurance that the latter would consider sufficient to warrant taking himself into full confidence concerning his work and plans, so that he could render the assistance he desired.

“You were doubtless somewhat surprised,” he began very deliberately and slowly, “by my request, last evening, for this interview.”

“Yes,” replied the other, “I will admit that I was surprised, more especially by the reason which you gave for your request,–that you understood my position here, and desired to help me.”

“Did it never occur to you that, to a person with any degree of penetration, any ability at reading a man’s character and habits of life, your position here, as clerk for a disreputable mining company, would, of itself, seem an anomaly, and be liable to excite the suspicion that you had some ulterior object in view?”

“I think,” said Houston, with a smile, “you are supposing a person with keener perceptions than are possessed by many in this locality.”

“They nearly all possess them to a certain degree, in a latent, uncultivated form, perhaps, but still there. For example, what is the true secret of Maverick’s hatred toward you, of Haight’s enmity, except that they recognize by a sort of instinct that you belong to an altogether different sphere from that in which they move? They cannot reason it out perhaps, but they feel it;–your language, your conduct, your manner, the very cut of your clothes, though but a plain business suit, proclaim to one who can read, and reason from these things correctly, and deduct their results therefrom, that you are a man of the highest culture and refinement, of high moral character, and of wealth. Consequently, the question arises, ‘What are you doing here?’”

“Pardon me, I do not intend to be personal in my remarks,” replied Houston, “but in my opinion, only a person who has himself moved in the highest circles of life would be able to reason in this manner.”

“Possibly,” said Jack, “they would be better able to classify you, as it were, and assign you to your true position, but these others feel keenly that you are not of their world, but they are generally incapable of drawing any conclusions from their observations, as very few of them have the reasoning faculty, and hence, they would not be likely to question your object or motive in holding this position. My design, however, in thus calling your attention to these facts, is simply to show you that you need not be greatly surprised when I say that from your first coming here, I have felt that you were no ordinary employe; that you were merely holding this position temporarily, either in your own interests, or in the interests of some one else,–but not in the interests of the mining company. Notwithstanding the fact that I live a very secluded life, I yet have means of ascertaining nearly all that is going on around me, and I will say to you truthfully, that I learned the secret of your mission here without even asking a question.”

“I can scarcely understand,” said Houston, “how you came to be the recipient of this secret, since you do not mingle with others, and apparently take very little interest in their affairs.”

“Perhaps,” said Jack, in low, musical tones, “you would be able to understand the situation better, did you know that your secret was told me by a friend of yours, who believed that, through my very isolation and loneliness, I could the better assist you.”

“A friend of mine!” exclaimed Houston, in surprise, “Is it possible that my eastern friends are known to you, and that some one of them has written you?”

“No one has written me, the story was told me by a friend of yours here.”

Instantly there flashed into Houston’s mind the memory of Lyle’s warning, and also of Miss Gladden’s declaration that she had seen and talked with Jack, but how could his true position be known to either of them?

“I have but two friends here, at present,” was his reply, “and they are women.”

“True women are the truest friends,” said Jack tersely.

“But how can either of them know anything regarding my work here?”

“I will tell you,” and very briefly Jack gave Houston an account of how his plans had first become known to Lyle, and of her subsequent interview with himself, begging his assistance in Houston’s behalf.

Houston was inexpressibly astonished and touched to find that the beautiful girl, whom he had considered friendless and helpless, and whom he had defended through a sense of chivalry, had, in return, served him so nobly and so opportunely. He resolved to see her and express to her his appreciation of what she had done, as early as possible.

“I think,” said Jack, in conclusion, “you will admit that by this means I have obtained a thorough understanding of what you wish to accomplish.”

“You understand it perfectly,” Houston answered.

“You will also admit that, after the years of experience that I have had in these particular mines, I must be thoroughly conversant with affairs in connection therewith, and could probably render you just the assistance you will need.”

“Most certainly you could,” responded Houston quickly, “I know of no one in the entire camp who could assist us so well as you.”

“Then,” said Jack, “the next and only consideration is, whether you have that degree of confidence in me, that you would feel warranted in trusting me implicitly,–”

“Enough said,” said Houston, interrupting him hastily but cordially, “I have that confidence in you, that, even if you had not sought this interview, sooner or later, I would have come to you for assistance.”

“Indeed!” exclaimed Jack, in surprise, “may I ask why?”

Houston hesitated a moment, and then replied:

“I believe, though we have met so recently, we may speak together as friends, or as brothers; you spoke a while ago of the faculty of perception; please credit me with possessing it in some degree myself, and while I do not wish to be personal or intrusive in my remarks, I am sure you will allow me to say, that if there is any degree of incongruity between my appearance and the position I hold, it certainly exists in a much greater degree in your own case. I, of course, know nothing of your past life; I wish to know nothing of it, except so far as you yourself would tell me, should you ever choose to do so, but this much I do know, and have known from the first, that you are vastly superior to your surroundings here. You claim,–and you are correct,–that I have had the advantages of excellent birth and breeding, of culture and wealth, but you are not one whit behind me in any of these things. Added to all this is the experience which you have accumulated in these late years, in this particular branch of work; surely it was not strange that I felt your acquaintance would be invaluable, could I but secure your friendship sufficiently for you to be interested in my plans.”

The moon had risen, flooding the little room with a soft, pale light, but Jack was sitting in the shadow, and Houston could not see the effect produced by his words. He wondered a little that Jack made no response, and, after waiting in silence for a moment or two, continued:

“There is one other consideration which you have not mentioned, and which must not be omitted, and that is compensation.”

A sudden movement on Jack’s part caused Houston to pause for an instant, but nothing was said, and he proceeded:

“I could not think of asking you to share the difficulties and dangers of this work without abundant compensation. Mr. Cameron, my uncle, who is interested–”

“Stop!” said Jack, putting up one hand as if to ward off a blow; his voice was hoarse, almost stern, and vibrated with some strange, deep emotion; “If you ever speak to me again of compensation, I will utterly refuse to help you in any way.”

“I beg your pardon,” said Houston, in a low, gentle tone, “I intended no offense, and I shall certainly respect your wishes.”

“There was no offense,” replied Jack, more calmly, “but you spoke a few moments since of friendship; that word, to a man living the life I have lived, means volumes; whatever I do, let it be done for friendship’s sake.”

“So let it be!” responded Houston solemnly, strangely moved by Jack’s manner.

For a long time they talked of the work before them, and Houston spoke of the expected arrival of Van Dorn within the next day or two, who was to remain until the end.

“The end is not far distant,” said Jack, “for after his coming I can give you nearly all the additional proof needed,” and he then proceeded to give information concerning matters of which Houston had not, as yet, obtained even a clue. An arrangement was made whereby Houston and Van Dorn, after the arrival of the latter, were to meet Jack at the cabin, and perfect their plans for the brief campaign before them.

At last, as Houston rose to take his leave, he said: “I hope you will pardon the remark, but while I have not the least doubt of your friendship toward me in this, I cannot overcome the impression that you also have some personal interest in this matter.”

“Possibly,” replied Jack, gravely, still standing in the shadow as Houston stepped forth into the moonlight, “but not in the way in which you think.”

CHAPTER XXIX

The camping party had returned to Silver City, and the old house among the mountains slowly subsided into its former quiet. Lyle’s time had been so occupied by the numerous demands made upon her by the departing guests, that Houston had found no opportunity for speaking with her, as he had planned the previous evening.

When the day’s work was completed, he, with Miss Gladden and Lyle, sat in the little porch, watching a brief but furious mountain storm, which had suddenly sprung up, preventing them from taking their customary evening stroll.

To the ordinary beauty of the scene around them was added the grandeur of the tempest, forming a spectacle not easily forgotten. Around the summits of the lofty peaks the fierce lightnings were playing, sometimes darting back and forth like the swords of mighty giants, flashing in mortal combat; sometimes descending swiftly in fiery chains, then seeming to wrap the whole universe in sheets of flame; while the crash and roll of the thunder echoed and re-echoed from peak to peak, the lingering reverberations still muttering and rumbling in the distance, as the fierce cannonading was again renewed. The wind rushed, roaring and shrieking, down the canyon, while the rain fell in gusty, fitful torrents.

At the end of half an hour, only a few stray drops were falling, the sun suddenly burst forth in a flood of golden light, and against the dark background of the storm-cloud, a rainbow spanned the eastern horizon, its glorious tints seeming almost to rival the gorgeous colors of the western sky.

Soon after the storm had passed, Haight was seen approaching the house. As he came up, he handed a telegraphic dispatch to Houston, saying:

“Just got a wire from the boss for you and Morgan; did you know anything about this kind of an arrangement?”

Houston opened the telegram, and read:

“Van Dorn up to-morrow to set up machinery on trial; may not be able to come myself for a day or two. Have Morgan and Houston give him all help they can spare, but not to interfere with work.

Blaisdell.”

Houston read the message carefully, then said to Haight, who stood awaiting his reply:

“I knew nothing of their having made any definite arrangement. I remember hearing Van Dorn say something to Mr. Blaisdell, just before they all went away, about bringing one of his machines out here, but Blaisdell didn’t seem to give him any encouragement at that time.”

“He evidently has roped the old man in on it, at last,” said Haight, seating himself.

“It looks like it,” Houston answered indifferently.

“What is the machine anyway?” Haight inquired. “Is it any good?”

“I cannot tell you,” replied Houston, “because I know absolutely nothing about it, except that it is for the reduction of ores. I heard Van Dorn allude to it two or three times while he was here, and he seemed quite enthusiastic about it, which I thought was, of course, perfectly natural. Where is Morgan?” Houston continued, “have you told him?”

Haight shook his head; “Morgan is at the Y, I suppose, as usual, and nobody will see him before sometime to-morrow. Have you noticed that fellow lately, Mr. Houston? Half the time he don’t seem to know what he’s about.”

“I have noticed that he scarcely appears like himself, of late,” Houston replied; “he seems to have some serious trouble.”

“He’s been losing pretty heavy lately, I guess, that’s what’s the matter; he’s awful reckless in his gambling, it’s neck or nothing, with him. I tell you,” Haight continued, watching Houston sharply, “Morgan would get the G.B. pretty sudden if the boss got onto the way he’s carrying sail.”

“Possibly,” said Houston, quietly, “but he will not know of it from me.”

“No?” said Haight, with a curious, rising reflection.

“No, indeed,” responded Houston, with some warmth, “when a man is in trouble, it is no time to give him a push downward; besides, I would not do or say anything to injure Morgan, anyway.”

Haight looked up curiously, and even the faces of the ladies expressed a slight surprise.

“I didn’t know you and Morgan were such good friends,” Haight remarked wonderingly.

“I do not know,” said Houston, “that either he or I consider that we are particular friends, though we are friendly enough, but I have learned this about Morgan; that whatever his principles, or his manner of life may be, he is far less to be blamed than people would ordinarily suppose.”

“Well,” said Haight, rising, “Morgan and I have been together, off and on, for the last three years, but I don’t know anything about him except just what I have seen for myself, what anybody can see; of course his way isn’t my way, but then, we don’t any of us think alike, and I’ve never had any fault to find with him, and we’ve got along together first rate. I suppose,” he continued, “you will give directions in the morning for that fellow and his machines, for it isn’t likely that Morgan will be around much before ten o’clock.”

“Very well,” said Houston, “I will be up early and will see that one of the six-horse teams is at the Y to meet him, and I can get through at the mines in season to be at the office by the time he will reach there; he probably will not get up before noon, with all that load.”

Happening to glance toward Lyle, as Haight withdrew, Houston read in her eyes, in their look of eager expectancy, and the firm determination expressed in her face, that she fully understood the meaning of what had passed.

It was equally evident that Miss Gladden had received no hint of the situation, for at almost the same instant she inquired:

“Is Mr. Van Dorn going to erect one of his reducing machines here?”

Houston answered in the affirmative.

“He will be likely to remain here some time, then, will he not?”

“In all probability,” Houston replied, “it must take considerable time to get one of those machines in perfect running order.”

“Then of course he will be here when Mr. Rutherford returns, with his brother; they were all such intimate friends, it will be pleasant for them to meet here. But I am surprised,” she added, “that he is bringing one of his machines such a distance as this.”

“Why so?” inquired Houston.

“Because, Mr. Winters told me that although the amalgamator was undoubtedly a valuable invention, and would prove a great success in a mining country, Van Dorn was too indolent to even try to introduce it among mining men, as it would require too much exertion on his part.”

Houston smiled at this accurate description of his class mate.

Miss Gladden continued: “Mr. Winters said that Van Dorn was a fine fellow, but that he was never so happy as when engaged in some little scheme, apparently doing one thing, and in reality, doing something else, as when he was acting as mining expert for Mr. Winters.”

“Well,” said Houston, laughing, “if that is the characteristic of Mr. Van Dorn, it will not be best to mention it here, as the officers of the company are very suspicious anyway, and very guarded as to who is permitted to have access to the mines and mills, and we might unconsciously make it rather unpleasant for him.”

The next morning, Houston went very early to the stables to order a team and three or four men to the Y to meet Van Dorn. Having given all necessary instructions, he returned to the house, but it was still early, and there was no one but Lyle in the breakfast room.

At a signal from Houston, she approached the door-way, where he remained standing, as from that position he could easily watch both the porch and the interior of the room, to assure himself that they were safe from listeners.

“I have just discovered recently,” he began in a low tone, “that I am indebted to you for securing valuable assistance for me in my work here.”

“Why?” she asked quickly, in surprise, “did Jack tell you that it was I who asked him to help you?”

“Certainly,” replied Houston, “I naturally wished to know where he obtained his information, and he told me of your interview with him, and your persistent efforts in my behalf. I want to thank you, for I appreciate your conduct under such circumstances; you acted wisely and nobly, and did the very best thing that could have been done.”

“I am glad that I have your approval,” she replied, “my overhearing what I did was unintentional and unavoidable, but having learned your plans, and that you needed help, I sought it from the only one competent to give it, and at the same time perfectly true and worthy of your confidence.”

“You certainly made a noble use of the knowledge you had obtained; there are very few, Lyle, who could have been trusted with such a secret, and who would have proven so trustworthy.”

“If you will pardon me for saying it, Mr. Houston, there is one other, whom you could, and, in my opinion, should trust with this.”

Houston looked at her inquiringly.

“I mean Miss Gladden,” was her response.

“I see you have given her no hint,” he said, smiling.

“Not a word,” Lyle answered, “it was not my place to do so; you know best what you wish her to know, and when, but I think you ought to confide in her fully, for she is a noble woman; you could trust her, and she would help you.”

“I realize that,” Houston replied, “but I did not wish her to be worried by this; there will probably be more or less danger before it is all over, and I thought she would be happier not to know.”

Lyle lifted her beautiful head proudly, with a gesture so full of grace, Houston could not but observe it.

“If I were in her place,” she said, slowly and firmly, and with peculiar emphasis, “and my lover were in any danger, I would far rather know it, and give him my help, if possible, my prayers and sympathy at any rate, than to remain in ignorance, and perhaps unconsciously hinder him.”

Houston looked at Lyle in astonishment; was this clear-headed woman the untutored, untrained child of the mountains whom he had always regarded with a tender, chivalric regard, almost akin to pity?

Lyle continued; “Do not think that even if you refrain from telling her this secret, she will not know that it exists; she will be quick to see indications of a secret understanding between yourself and others,–between yourself and myself, even,–in which she has no share. Will that seem to her like confidence, or even justice, on your part. It will be better for her, for you and for me that you tell her your plans fully, for you will find her strong and true and brave, whatever the end shall prove.”

“My dear Lyle,” said Houston, slowly, “I believe you are right, and I will never consider you a child again; but I cannot understand how you, with your youth and inexperience, can think and act so wisely and well.”

“We none of us know what we can do or be,” she answered gravely, “till an emergency arises, and we are suddenly shown what is required of us.”

“I will follow your suggestion at the first opportunity,” Houston said, after a pause, “I shall tell Miss Gladden all that you know regarding my plans and my work, with but one reservation; for the present, I do not wish her to know that Mr. Cameron is related to me.”

Lyle looked slightly surprised, “Very well,” she answered, in a tone of assent, adding, “You are his nephew, are you not?”

“His nephew and his adopted son,” Houston replied, with a peculiar smile.

“Ah!” she replied quietly, “I understand; Miss Gladden is to know nothing at present of your wealth.”

“I have won her love with love, not with gold,” he said proudly, “but she will find, by and by, that the latter is not lacking.”

A remark of Miss Gladden’s, which she had made in confidence, soon after her engagement to Houston, was suddenly recalled to Lyle’s mind; “Whether he has money or not, I do not know or care, for I have enough for both of us.”

A curious smile flitted over her face for a moment, but she only said, “You must be very wealthy!”

“I have enough,” Houston responded, “to give to Miss Gladden the home of which she is worthy, but which she has never known; and,” he added, “there is one thing, my dear Lyle, upon which we are both agreed; that our home, wherever it shall be, shall be your home also, as our sister.”

For a moment, Lyle’s lips quivered, and she was unable to speak. At that instant, Haight entered the breakfast room, darting at them a look of curiosity and suspicion, as they stood together in the door-way. Houston was pleased to see Lyle’s perfect self-control. Without stirring in the least from her place by his side, she asked, in the most matter-of-fact tone, whether Mr. Van Dorn would be likely to arrive from the Y in season for dinner, and what room it would be best to prepare for him.

“You had better let him share my room, in case he has no objections,” Houston answered indifferently, “for you like to keep your rooms in readiness for guests as much as possible, and Rutherford, when he returns, will probably room with his brother.”