They of the High Trails Page 6

  V

  THE TRAIL TRAMP

  KELLEY AFOOT

  I

  Kelley was in off the range and in profound disgust with himself, forafter serving honorably as line-rider and later as cow-boss for tenyears or more, he had ridden over to Keno to meet an old comrade. Justhow it happened he couldn't tell, but he woke one morning without adollar and, what was worse, incredibly worse, without horse or saddle!Even his revolver was gone.

  In brief, Tall Ed, for the first time in his life, was set afoot, andthis, you must understand, is a most direful disaster in cowboy life. Itmeans that you must begin again from the ground up, as if you were aperfectly new tenderfoot from Nebraska.

  Fort Keno was, of course, not a real fort; but it was a real barracks.The town was an imitation town. The fort, spick, span, in rows, withnicely planted trees and green grass-plats (kept in condition at vastexpense to the War Department), stood on the bank of the sluggish river,while just below it and across the stream sprawled the town, drab,flea-bitten, unkempt, littered with tin cans and old bottles, acollection of saloons, gambling-houses and nameless dives, with a fewpeople--a very few--making an honest living by selling groceries,saddles, and coal-oil.

  Among the industries of Keno City was a livery-and-sales stable, andKelley, with intent to punish himself, at once applied for the positionof hostler. "You durned fool," he said, addressing himself, "as you'veplayed the drunken Injun, suppose you play valet to a lot of mustangsfor a while."

  As a disciplinary design he felicitated himself as having hit upon themost humiliating and distasteful position in Keno. It was understoodthat Harford of the Cottonwood Corral never hired a real man as hostler.He seemed to prefer bums and tramps, either because he could get themcheaper or else because no decent man would work for him. He was an"arbitrary cuss" and ready with gun or boot. He came down a long trailof weather-worn experiences in the Southwest, and showed it in both faceand voice. He was a big man who had once been fatter, but his wrinkledand sour visage seldom crinkled into a smile. He had never been jolly,and he was now morose.

  Kelley hated him. That, too, was another part of his elaborate scheme ofself-punishment--hated, but did not fear him, for Tall Ed Kelley fearednothing that walked the earth or sailed the air. "You bum," he continuedto say in bitter derision as he caught glimpses of himself of a morningin the little fragment of broken glass which, being tacked on the wall,served as mirror in the office. "You durned mangy coyote, you need ashave, but you won't get it. You need a clean shirt and a new bandanna,but you won't get them, neither--not yet awhile. You'll earn 'em bygoing without a drop of whisky and by forking manure fer the next sixmonths. You hear me?"

  He slept in the barn on a soiled, ill-smelling bunk, and his hours ofrepose were broken by calls on the telephone or by some one beating atthe door late at night or early in the morning; but he always respondedwithout a word of complaint. It was all lovely discipline. It was likebatting a measly bronco over the head in correction of some grievousfault (like nipping your calf, for example), and he took a grimsatisfaction in going about degraded and forgotten of his fellows, forno one in Keno knew that this grimy hostler was cow-boss on the Perco.This, in a certain degree, softened his disgrace and lessened hispunishment, but he couldn't quite bring himself to the task ofexplaining just how he had come to leave the range and go into servicewith Harford.

  The officers of the fort, when tired of the ambulance, occasionally tookout a team and covered rig, and so Kelley came in contact with thecommanding officer, Major Dugan, a fine figure of a man with carefullybarbered head and immaculate uniform. In Kelley's estimation he wasalmost too well kept for a man nearing fifty. He was, indeed, a gallantto whom comely women were still the fairest kind of game.

  In truth, Tall Ed as hostler often furnished the major with a carriage,in which to make some of his private expeditions, and this was anotherand final disgrace which the cowman perceived and commented upon. Toassist an old libertine like the major in concealing his night journeyswas the nethermost deep of "self-discipline," but when the pretty youngwife of his employer became the object of the major's attention Kelleywas thrown into doubt.

  Anita Harford, part Spanish and part German, as sometimes happens in NewMexico, was a curious and interesting mixture with lovely golden-brownhair and big, dark-brown eyes. She had the ingratiating smile of thesenora, her mother, and the moods of gravity, almost melancholy, of herfather.

  She had been away in Albuquerque during the first week of Kelley'shostlership, and though he had heard something of her from the men aboutthe corral, he had no great interest in her till she came one afternoonto the door of the stable, where she paused like a snow-white, timidantelope and softly said:

  "Are you the new hostler?"

  "I am, miss."

  She smiled at his mistake. "I am Mrs. Harford. Please let me have thesingle buggy and bay Nellie."

  Kelley concealed his surprise. "Sure thing, mom. Want her right now?"

  "If you please."

  As she moved away so lightly and so daintily Kelley stared instupefaction. "Guess I've miscalculated somewhere. Old Harf must havemore drag into him than I made out. How did the old seed get a womanlike that? 'Pears like he's the champion hypnotic spieler when it comesto 'skirts.'"

  He hitched-up the horse in profound meditation. For the first time sincehis downfall his humiliation seemed just a trifle deeper than wasnecessary. He regretted his filthy shirt and his unshorn cheeks, and ashe brought the horse around to the door of the boss's house he slippedout of the buggy on the off side, hurriedly tethered the mare to thepole, and retreated to his alley like a rat to its burrow. The fewmoments when Anita's clear eyes had rested upon him had been moments ofself-revelation.

  "Kelley, you're all kinds of a blankety fool," said he. "You're causingyourself a whole lot of extra misery and you're a disgustin' object,besides. It isn't necessary fer you to be a skunk in order to giveyourself a welting. Go now and get a shave and a clean shirt, and startagain."

  This he did, and out of his next week's pay he bought a clean pair ofoveralls and a new sombrero, so that when he came back to the barnHarford was disturbed.

  "Hope you aren't going to pull out, Kelley? You suit me, and if it's aquestion of pay, I'll raise you a couple of dollars on a week."

  "Oh no, I'm not leaving. Only I jest felt like I was a little toomeasly. 'Pears like I ought to afford a clean shirt. It does make a heapof difference in the looks of a feller. No, I'm booked to stay with youfer a while yet."

  Naturally thereafter little Mrs. Harford filled a large place inKelley's gloomy world. He was not a romantic person, but he was oftenlonesome in the midst of his self-imposed penance. He forbade himselfthe solace of the saloon. He denied himself a day or even an hour offduty, and Harford, secretly amazed and inwardly delighted, went so farone day as to offer him a cigar.

  Kelley waved it away. "No, I've cut out the tobacco, too."

  This astounded his boss. "Say, it's a wonder you escaped the ministry."

  "It's more of a wonder than you know," replied Kelley. "I was headedright plumb that way till I was seventeen. My mother had it all pickedout fer me. Then I broke away."

  Harford, with the instinctive caution of the plainsman, pursued thesubject no further. He was content to know that for a very moderatewage he had secured the best man with horses that the stable had everknown. His only anxiety related to the question of keeping his find.

  "Kelley's too good to be permanent," he said to his wife that night."He'll skip out with one of the best saddle-horses some night, or elsehe'll go on a tearing drunk and send the whole outfit up in smoke. Idon't understand the cuss. He looks like the usual hobo out of a job,but he's as abstemious as a New England deacon. 'Pears like he has nofaults at all."

  Anita had been attracted to Kelley, lowly as he looked, and, uponhearing his singular virtues recounted by her husband, opened her eyesin augmented interest. All the men in her world were rough. Her fatherdrank, her brothers fought and
swore and cheated, and her husband was asfree of speech in her presence as if she were another kind of man,softening his words a little, but not much. Therefore, the next time shemet Kelley she lingered to make conversation with him, rejoicing in hiscandid eyes and handsome face. She observed also that his shirt wasclean and his tie new. "He looks almost like a soldier," she thought,and this was her highest compliment.

  Surrounded as she was by gamblers, horse-jockeys, cattle-buyers, andminers, all (generally speaking) of the same slouchy, unkempt type, sherecognized in the officers of the fort gentlemen of highest breeding andradiant charm. Erect, neat, brisk of step, the lieutenants on paradegave off something so alien, yet so sweet, that her heart went out tothem collectively, and when they lifted their caps to her individually,she smiled upon them all with childish unconsciousness of theirdangerous qualities.

  Most of the younger unmarried men took these smiles to be as they were,entirely without guile. Others spoke jestingly (in private) of herattitude, but were inclined to respect Harford's reputation as a gunman.Only the major himself was reckless enough to take advantage of theyoung wife's admiration for a uniform.

  Kelley soon understood the situation. His keen eyes and sensitive earsinformed him of the light estimation in which his employer's wife washeld by the major; but at first he merely said, "This is none of yourfuneral, Kelley. Stick to your currycomb. Harford is able to take careof his own."

  This good resolution weakened the very next time Anita met him andprettily praised him. "Mr. Harford says you are the best man he everhad, and I think that must be so, for my pony never looked so clean andshiny."

  Kelley almost blushed, for (as a matter of faithful history) he hadspent a great deal of time brushing bay Nellie. She did indeed shinelike a bottle, and her harness, newly oiled and carefully burnished,glittered as if composed of jet and gold.

  "Oh, that's all right; it's a part of my job," he replied, as carelesslyas he could contrive. "I like a good horse"--"and a pretty woman," hemight have added, but he didn't.

  Although Anita lingered as if desiring a word or two more, the tallhostler turned resolutely away and disappeared into the stable.

  Bay Nellie, as the one dependable carriage-horse in the outfit ofbroncos, had been set aside for the use of Anita and her friends, butKelley had orders from Harford to let the mare out whenever the womendid not need her, provided a kindly driver was assured, and so ithappened that the wives of the officers occasionally used her, althoughnone of them could be called friends or even acquaintances of littleMrs. Harford.

  Kelley observed their distant, if not contemptuous, nods to hisemployer's wife as they chanced to meet her on the street, but he saidno word, even when some of the town loafers frankly commented on it. Heowed nothing to Harford. "It's not my job to defend his wife'sreputation." Nevertheless, it made him hot when he heard one of theseloafers remark: "I met the old major the other evening driving along theriver road with Harf's wife. Somebody better warn the major, or there'llbe merry hell and a military funeral one of these days."

  "I reckon you're mistaken," said Kelley.

  "Not by a whole mile! It was dark, but not so dark but that I could seewho they were. They were in a top buggy, drivin' that slick nag the oldman is so choice about."

  "When was it?" asked Kelley.

  "Night before last. I met 'em up there just at the bend of the river."

  Kelley said no more, for he remembered that Anita had called for thehorse on that date just about sundown, and had driven away alone. Shereturned alone about ten--at least, she drove up to the stable dooralone, but he recalled hearing the low tones of a man's voice justbefore she called.

  It made him sad and angry. He muttered an imprecation against the wholeworld of men, himself included. "If I hadn't seen her--if I didn't knowhow sweet and kind and pretty she was--I wouldn't mind," he said tohimself. "But to think of a little babe like her--" He checked himself."That old cockalorum needs killing. I wonder if I've got to do it?" heasked in conclusion.

  II

  Harford came home the next day, and for several weeks there was nofurther occasion for gossip, although Kelley had his eyes on the majorso closely that he could neither come nor go without having his actionanalyzed. He kept close record of Anita's coming and going also,although it made him feel like a scoundrel whenever she glanced at him.He was sure she was only the thoughtless child in all her indiscretions,with a child's romantic admiration of a handsome uniform.

  "I'll speak to her," he resolved. "I'll hand her out a word of warningjust to clear my conscience. She needs a big brother or an uncle--someone to give her a jolt, and I'll do it!"

  The opportunity came one day soon after Harford's return, but hiscourage almost failed at the moment of meeting, so dainty, so small, socharming, and so bird-like did the young wife seem.

  She complimented him again on the condition of the mare and asked,timidly, "How much does my husband pay you?"

  "More than I'm worth," he replied, with gloomy self-depreciation.

  She caught the note of bitterness in his voice and looked at him amoment in surprised silence, her big eyes full of question. "What madeyou say that?"

  Kelley, repenting of his lack of restraint, smiled and said: "Oh, I feltthat way--for a minute. You see, I used to lead a high life of ease. Iwas a nobleman--an Irish lord."

  She smiled and uttered an incredulous word, but he went on:

  "Yes, although my name is Kelley, I belong to a long line of kings. I'mworking as hostler just to square myself fer having killed a man. Yousee, my queen was kind o' foolish and reckless and let a certain Englishduke hang round her till I got locoed, and, being naturally quick on thetrigger, I slew him."

  She was not stupid. She understood, and with quick, resentful glance shetook the reins from his hands and stepped into the carriage.

  Kelley, silenced, and with a feeling that he had bungled his job, fellback a pace, while she drove away without so much as a backward glance.

  "I reckon she got it," he said, grimly, as he went back to his work. "Ididn't put it out just the way I had it in my head, but she 'peared tosense enough of it to call me a Piute for butting in. If that don't workon her I'll tack a warning on the major which nobody will misread fer ajoke."

  As the hours of the afternoon went by he became more and more uneasy. "Ihope she'll turn up before dark, fer Harf is liable to get back anyminute," he said a dozen times, and when at last he saw her coming upthe street with a woman in the seat beside her he breathed deeply andswore heartily in his relief. "I guess my parable kind o' worked," hesaid, exultantly. "She's kept clear of the old goat this trip."

  The little lady stopped her horse at the door of the stable and with acool and distant nod alighted and walked away.

  "I'm the hostler now--sure thing," grinned Kelley. "No raise of pay ferTall Ed this week."

  He was in reality quite depressed by the change in her attitude towardhim. "Reckon I didn't get just the right slaunch on that warning ofmine--and yet at the same time she ought to have seen I meant itkindly.--Oh well, hell! it's none o' my funeral, anyway. Harford is nogreen squash, he's a seasoned old warrior who ought to know when men arestealing his wife." And he went back to his dusty duties in fulldetermination to see nothing and do nothing outside the barn.

  Nevertheless, when, thereafter, anybody from the fort asked for bayNellie, he gave out that she was engaged, and the very first time themajor asked for the mare Kelley not only brusquely said, "She's in use,"but hung up the receiver in the midst of the major's explanation.

  The town gossips were all busy with the delightful report that Mrs.Harford had again been seen driving with the major, whose reputation forgallantry, monstrously exaggerated by the reek of the saloons, made evena single hour of his company a dash of pitch to the best of women.Kelley speculated on just how long it would take Harford to learn ofthese hints against his wife. Some of his blunt followers were quitecapable of telling him in so many words that the major was doing himwrong, and when
they did an explosion would certainly take place.

  One day a couple of Harford's horses, standing before the stable, becamefrightened and ran away up the street. Kelley, leaping upon one of thefleetest broncos in the stalls, went careering in pursuit just as Anitacame down the walk. He was a fine figure of a man even when slouchingabout the barn, but mounted he was magnificent. It was the first time hehad ridden since the loss of his own outfit, and the feel of a vigoroussteed beneath his thighs, the noise of pounding feet, the rush of air,filled his heart with mingled exultation and regret. He was the centauragain.

  Anita watched him pass and disappear with a feeling of surprise as wellas of admiration. She was skilled in reading the character of men onhorseback, and peculiarly sensitive to such an exhibition of grace andpower. Her hostler was transformed into something new and whollyadmirable, and she gladly took the trouble to watch for his return, asshe could not witness the roping and the skilful subduing of theoutlaws.

  The picture he made as he tore along, swinging his rope, had displacedthat of the dirty, indifferent hostler, and Anita thereafter looked uponhim with respect, notwithstanding his presumptuous warning, which stilllay heavy in her ears.

  She still resented his interference, but she resented it less now thatshe knew him better. She began to wonder about him. Who was he? Why washe the hostler? Naturally, being wise in certain ways of men, sheinferred that strong drink had "set him afoot"; but when she hesitantlyapproached her husband on this point, his reply was brusque: "I don'tknow anything about Kelley, and don't want to know. So long as he doeshis work his family vault is safe."

  Still desiring to be informed, she turned to her servants, with nobetter results; they knew very little about Tall Ed, "but we like him,"they were free to say.

  This newly discovered mystery in the life of her hostler accomplishedwhat his warning had failed to do; it caused her to neglect hercorrespondence with the major. His letter lay in a hollow willow-tree onthe river road unread for nearly a week. And when, one afternoon, shefinally rode by to claim it, her interest was strangely dulled. Thespice of the adventure was gone.

  As she was about to deliver her pony to Kelley that night he handed heran envelope, and, with penetrating glance, said: "I found this on theriver road to-day. I wouldn't write any more such--if I was you; itain't nice and it ain't safe."

  It was her own letter, the one she had but just written and deposited inthe tree. She chilled and stiffened under the keen edge of Kelley'scontemptuous pity, then burned hot with illogical rage.

  "What right--? You spied on me. It's a shame!"

  "So it is!" he agreed, quietly; "but I don't want any killingdone--unless I do it myself."

  "You are a thief," she accused.

  "All right," he answered, dispassionately. "Spy--keeper--bigbrother--dog--anything goes--only I don't intend to let you slide tohell without a protest. You're nothing but a kid--a baby. You don't knowwhat you're going into. I'm an old stager; I know a whole lot that Iwish I didn't know. I've known women who _said_ they didn't care--lotsof 'em--but they did; they all cared. They all knew they'd lost out.There's only one end to the trail you're starting in on, and it ain't apretty one. Harf married you in good faith, and even if he _is_ gettin'old and slow-footed and skinny, he's your husband and entitled to asquare deal."

  Blinded by her tears, and weak with passionate resentment of his tone,she could scarcely clamber down from the carriage. As soon as her feettouched the ground she started away. Kelley retained her by the force ofhis hand upon her wrist.

  "Wait a moment," he said, huskily. "You're mad now and you want tomurder me, but think it all over and you'll see I'm your friend."

  There was something in his voice which caused her to look squarely upinto his face, and the tenderness she saw there remained long in hermemory.

  "You're too sweet and lovely to be the sport of a cheap skate like that.Don't throw yourself away on any man. Good-by and God bless ye."

  She walked away with bent head and tear-blinded eyes, her heart filledwith weakness and pain. She was like a child justly punished, yetresenting it, and mingled with her resentment was a growing love andadmiration for the man whose blunt words had bruised her soul in thehope of her redemption.

  * * * * *

  Kelley went back to his little office, gathered his small belongingstogether, and called up Harford on the 'phone. "I'll take that bluecayuse and that Denver-brand saddle, and call it square to date.... Yes,I'm leaving. I've got a call to a ranch over on the Perco. Sorry, but Ireckon I've worked out my sentence.... All right. So long."

  Ten minutes later he was mounted and riding out of town. The air wascrisp with autumn frost and the stars were blazing innumerably in thesky. A coyote had begun his evening song, and to the north rose thehigh, dark mass of the Book cliffs. Toward this wall he directed hisway. He hurried like one fleeing from temptation, and so indeed he was.

  KELLY AS MARSHAL

  I

  Along about '96 Sulphur Springs had become several kinds of a bad town.From being a small liquoring-up place for cattlemen it had taken onsuccessively the character of a land-office, a lumber-camp, and acoal-mine.

  As a cow town it had been hardly more than a hamlet. As a mining centerit rose to the dignity of possessing (as Judge Pulfoot was accustomed toboast) nearly two thousand souls, not counting Mexicans and Navajos. Itlay in the hot hollows between pinyon-spotted hills, but within sightspread the grassy slopes of the secondary mountains over whose tops thesnow-lined peaks of the Continental Divide loomed in stern majesty.

  The herders still carried Winchesters on their saddles and revolversstrung to their belts, and each of them strove to keep up cowboytraditions by unloading his weapon on the slightest provocation. Thegamblers also sustained the conventions of their profession by killingone another now and again, and the average citizen regarded theseactivities with a certain approval, for they all denoted a "live town."

  "The boys need diversion," said the mayor, "and so long as they confinetheir celebrations to such hours as will not disturb the children andwomen--at least, the domestic kind of women--I won't complain."

  And really, it is gratifying to record that very few desirable citizenswere shot. Sulphur continued to thrive, to glow in the annals ofmountain chivalry, until by some chance old Tom Hornaby of Wire Grasswas elected Senator. That victory marked the beginning of the decline ofSulphur.

  Hornaby was Pulfoot's candidate, and the judge took a paternal pride inhim. He even went up to the capital to see him sworn in, and was there,unfortunately, when the humorous member from Lode alluded to Hornaby as"my esteemed colleague from 'Brimstone' Center, where even the judgestote guns and the children chew dynamite"--and what was still moredisturbing, he was again in the capital when the news came of theshooting and robbing of a couple of coal-miners, the details of whichfilled the city papers with sarcastic allusions to "Tom Hornaby's livetown on The Stinking Water."

  Hornaby, being a heavy owner of land in and about Sulphur, was veryproperly furious, and Judge Pulfoot--deeply grieved--was, indeed, on theinstant, converted. A great light fell about him. He perceived his hometown as it was--or at least he got a glimpse of it as it appeared to thetimid souls of civilized men. He cowered before Hornaby.

  "Tom, you're right," he sadly agreed. "The old town needs cleaning up.It sure is disgraceful."

  Hornaby buttered no parsnips. "You go right back," said he, "and kickout that bonehead marshal of yours and put a full-sized man into hisplace, a man that will cut that gun-play out and distribute a few ofthose plug-uglies over the landscape. What chance have I got in thisLegislature as the 'Senator from Brimstone Center'? I'll never get shetof that fool tag whilst I'm up here."

  "You certainly have a right to be sore," the judge admitted. "But itain't no boy's job, cleaning up our little burg. It's going to be good,stiff work. I don't know who to put into it."

  "I do."

  "Who?"

  "My foreman, Ed Kelley."<
br />
  "I don't know him."

  "Well, I do. He's only been with me a few months, but I've tried him andhe's all right. He's been all over the West, knows the greasers andInjuns, and can take care of himself anywhere. The man don't live thatcan scare him. You notice his eyes! He's got a glare like the muzzle ofa silver-plated double-barrel shotgun. He don't know what fear is. I'veseen him in action, and I know."

  The judge was impressed. "Will the board accept him?"

  "They've _got_ to accept him or go plumb to the devil down there. Thesearticles and speeches have put us in wrong with the whole state. Thiswild West business has got to be cut out. It scares away capital. Nowyou get busy!"

  The judge went back resolved upon a change of administration. Theconstituent who held the office of marshal was brave enough, but he hadgrown elderly and inert. He was, in truth, a joke. The gamblers laughedat him and the cowboys "played horse" with him. The spirit of deviltrywas stronger than it had ever been in the history of the county.

  "Something religious has got to be done," the judge argued to the cityfathers, and, having presented Hornaby's message, demanded theinstallation of Kelley.

  The board listened attentively, but were unconvinced. "Who is thisKelley? He's nothing but a tramp, a mounted hobo. Who knows him?"

  "Hornaby knows him and wants him, and his order goes. Let's have him inand talk with him, anyhow."

  Kelley was called in. He showed up a tall, composed young fellow ofthirty, with weather-worn face and steady gray eyes in which the pupilswere unusually small and very dark blue. His expression was calm and hisvoice pleasant. He listened in amused silence while the judge told himwhat the program was. Then he said:

  "That's a whale of a job you've laid out for me; but Hornaby's boss. Allis, if I start in on this, you fellows have got to see me through. It'sa right stiff program and I need some insurance. 'Pears to me like thereshould be a little pot for Tall Ed at the end of this game--say, threedollars a day and a couple of hundred bones when everything is quiet."

  To this the judge agreed. "You go in and clean up. Run these gunmen downthe valley. Cut out this amatoor wild West business--it's hurting us.Property is depreciating right along. We certainly can't stand any moreof this brimstone business. Go to it! We'll see that you're properlyreimbursed."

  "All right, Judge. But you understand if I go into this peacemaking warI draw no political lines. I am chief for the time being, and treateverybody alike--greasers, 'Paches, your friends, my friends,everybody."

  "That's all right. It's your deal," said the judge and the aldermen.

  II

  Tall Ed had drifted into Sulphur from the Southwest some six monthsbefore, and although fairly well known among the ranchers on the WireGrass, was not a familiar figure in town. The news of his appointmentwas received with laughter by the loafers and with wonder by the quietcitizens, who coldly said:

  "He appears like a full-sized man, but size don't count. There's ClaytMink, for instance, the worst little moth-eaten scrap in the state, andyet he'll kill at the drop of a hat. Sooner or later he's going to tryout this new marshal same as he did the others."

  This seemed likely, for Mink owned and operated the biggestgambling-house in Sulphur, and was considered to be (as he was) adangerous man. He already hated Kelley, who had once protected a drunkencattleman from being almost openly robbed in his saloon. Furthermore, hewas a relentless political foe to Hornaby.

  He was indeed a mere scrap of a man, with nothing about him full-sizedexcept his mustache. And yet, despite his unheroic physique, he wasquick and remorseless in action. In Italy he would have carried adagger. In England he would have been a light-weight rough-and-tumblefighter. In the violent West he was a gunman, menacing every citizen whocrossed his inclination, and he took Kelley's appointment as a directaffront on the part of Hornaby and Pulfoot.

  "He'd better keep out of my way," he remarked to his friends, with amalignant sneer.

  Kelley was not deceived in his adversary. "He's a coward at heart, likeall these hair-hung triggers," he said to Pulfoot. "I'm not hunting anytrouble with him, but--" It was not necessary to finish his sentence;his voice and smile indicated his meaning.

  The town was comparatively quiet for the first month or two after Kelleytook office. It seemed that the rough element was reflectively takinghis measure, and Hornaby's herders, as they rode in and out of town,told stories of Tall Ed's rough and ready experiences, which helped toestablish official confidence in him.

  "I reckon we've done the right thing this time," wrote Pulfoot toHornaby. "The boys all seem to realize we've got a _man_ in office."

  This calm, this unnatural calm, was broken one night by Mink himself,who shot and all but killed the livery-stable keeper in a dispute overroulette. Knowing that his deed would bring the new marshal down uponhim at once, the gambler immediately declared determined war.

  "The man who comes after me will need a wooden overcoat," hepromulgated. "I won't stand being hounded. That hostler was pulling hisgun on me. I got him first, that's all. It was a fair fight, andeverybody knows it."

  The liveryman was, in fact, armed at the time, and the disposition ofmany citizens was to "let him learn his lesson." But Judge Pulfoot,fearing Hornaby's temper, ordered Kelley to get his man.

  "Tom wants that weasel disciplined," he said. "He's a damage to thecommunity."

  Kelley received his orders with calmness. "Well, Judge," he said, aftera little pause, "I'll get him, but I'd like to do it in my own way. Togo after him just now gives him the inside position. He'll hear of methe minute I start and will be backed up into the corner somewhere withhis gun all poised."

  "Are you afraid?"

  "You can call it that," the young marshal languidly replied. "I don'tbelieve in taking fool chances. Mink is a dead shot, and probablywire-edged with whisky and expecting me. My plan is to wait until he's alittle off his guard--then go in quick and pull him down."

  To this the judge gave reluctant consent. But when, a few hours later,he heard that Mink had disappeared he was indignant. "You get that devilor we'll let you out," he said, and showed a telegram from Hornabyprotesting against this new outbreak of violence. "The old man'sred-headed over it."

  "I know it," said Kelley. "I heard from him to that effect. If thehostler dies we won't see Mink no more. If he's in town I'll get him.Good _night_."

  III

  A few days later, as he was walking up the street, half a dozen mensuccessively spoke to him, saying, "Mink's at home, loaded--and lookingfor you!" And each of them grinned as he said it, joyously anticipatingtrouble.

  Without a word, other than a careless, "That so?" Kelley passed on, anda thrill of excitement ran through the hearts of the loafers.

  It was about sunset of a dusty autumn afternoon, and the cowboys andminers (gathered in knots along the street), having eaten their suppers,were ready to be entertained. Upon seeing Kelley approach with easystride they passed the joyous word along. Each spectator was afraid hemight miss some part of the play.

  Kelley was fully aware that his official career and perhaps his lifehung in the balance. To fail of arresting the desperado was to brandhimself a bungler and to expose himself to the contempt of othersure-shot ruffians. However, having faced death many times in thedesert and on the range, he advanced steadily, apparently undisturbed bythe warnings he had received.

  Just before reaching Mink's saloon he stepped into Lemont's drug-store,a cheap little shop where candy and cigars and other miscellaneous goodswere sold. The only person in the place was Rosa Lemont, a slim, littlemaid of about fifteen years of age.

  "Hello, Rosie," he said, quietly. "I want to slip out your back door."He smiled meaningly. "The street is a trifle crowded just now."

  With instant comprehension of his meaning she led the way. "Don't letthem kill you," she whispered, with scared lips.

  "I'll try not to," he answered, lightly.

  Once in the alley, he swung his revolver to a handy spot on his thighand entered
the saloon abruptly from the rear.

  The back room, a rude dance-hall, was empty, but the door into thebarroom was open, and he slipped through it like a shadow. Mink was notin sight, but the barkeeper stood rigidly on duty.

  "Hello, Jack!" called Kelley, as he casually approached the bar."Where's the boss?"

  Before he had finished his question he detected his man reflected in themirror behind the bar. The gambler imagined himself to be hidden behindthe screen which separated the women's drinking-place from the mainroom, and did not know that Kelley had seen him in the glass. Hisrevolver was in his hand and malignant purpose blazed in his eyes--andyet he hesitated. Lawless as he was, it appeared that he could notinstantly bring himself to the point of shooting an officer in theback.

  Kelley, realizing his disadvantage, and knowing that any attempt toforestall the action of his enemy would be fatal, cheerily called out toan acquaintance who stood in a stupor of fear, farther up the bar:"Howdy, Sam! Come and have a drink." His jovial tone and apparentignorance of danger prolonged Mink's moment of indecision. The third manthought Kelley unaware of his danger, but did not have the courage toutter a sound.

  The marshal, perceiving certain death in the assassin's eyes, was aboutto whirl in a desperate effort to get at least one shot at him, whensomething happened! Some one caromed against the screen. It toppled andfell upon the gambler, disconcerting his aim. His bullet went wide, andKelley was upon him like a tiger before he could recover control of hisweapon, and they both went to the sawdust together.

  Now came a singular revelation of the essential cowardice of thedesperado. Deprived of his revolver and helpless in Kelley's greathands, he broke down. White, trembling, drooling with terror, he pleadedfor his life. "Don't shoot--don't kill me!" he repeated over and over.

  "I ought to kill you," argued Kelley, with a reflective hesitation whichwrought his captive to a still greater frenzy of appeal.

  "I beg--I beg," he whined. "Don't shoot!"

  Amazed and disgusted with the man's weakness, Kelley kicked him in theribs. "Get up!" he said, shortly.

  Mink arose, but no sooner was he on his feet than his courage returned."I'll have your heart for this," he said, venomously. Then his mind tooka sudden turn. "Who pushed that screen onto me?" he asked. "I'll killthe man who did that."

  "You'll have time to figure out that problem in the quiet of 'the jug,'"said Kelley. "Come along."

  At the door of the calaboose the gambler braced himself. "I won't go inthere!" he declared. "I won't be jugged--I'll die right here--"

  Kelley's answer was a jerk, a twist, and a sudden thrust, which landedthe redoubtable boaster in the middle of his cell. "You can die insideif you want to," he said, and turned the key on him. "My responsibilityends right here."

  IV

  The street was crowded with excited men and women as Kelley came back upthe walk. One or two congratulated him on his escape from sudden death,but the majority resented him as "the hired bouncer" of the land-boomersin the town.

  "Who pushed that screen?" was the question which everybody asked ofKelley.

  "I didn't see," he responded. "I was _busy_ just about that time."

  In truth he had only glimpsed a darting figure, but one he knew! Whoelse but Rosa Lemont could have been so opportune and so effective inher action? She alone knew of his presence in the alley.

  She was only a plain little hobbledehoy, half Mexican and half French,and not yet out of short dresses, and Kelley had never paid her anyattention beyond passing the time of day, with a kindly smile; and yetwith the fervid imagination of her race she had already conceived apassionate admiration for Kelley. Knowing that he was entering Mink'sdeath-trap, she had followed him like a faithful squire, eager todefend, and, understanding his danger to the full, had taken thesimplest and most effective means of aiding him. From the doorway shehad witnessed his victory; then flying through the rear door, had beenin position at the store window as he passed with his prisoner on hisway to the calaboose.

  When Kelley came back to her door, with intent to thank her for what shehad done, he found the room full of excited men, and with instinctivedelicacy passed on his way, not wishing to involve her in the story ofthe arrest.

  It appeared that all the men of the town who thrived by lawlessness andvice now decided to take up Mink's case and make his discharge an issue.A sudden demonstration of their political power brought the judge toterms. He weakened. The gambler was released with a fine of one hundreddollars and a warning to keep the peace, and by noon of the followingday was back in his den, more truculent than ever.

  Kelley was properly indignant. "But the man tried to kill me!" heprotested to the court.

  "He swears not," replied the justice. "We have punished him forresisting an officer. That is the best we can do."

  "What about Jake?"

  "Oh, well! That was 'war.' Jake had a gun, and Mink is able to provethat he shot in self-defense. Furthermore, he has settled with Jake."

  Kelley argued no more. He could have called Rosa in as a witness to theattempt upon his life, but to do so would expose her to public comment,and her big, solemn, worshipful eyes had already produced in him a vaguepity. Without understanding fully her feeling, he knew that she lookedup to him, and he perceived that she was born to sorrow in largermeasure than she deserved. Sallow, thin, boyish, she gave promise of akind of beauty which would sometime make her desired of both white menand brown.

  "Poor little mongrel!" he said to himself. "She's in for misery enoughwithout worrying over me."

  * * * * *

  "Well, I'm up against it now," Kelley remarked to Dad Miller, Hornaby'sforeman, the next time he met him. "Mink's friends have thrown a scareinto the judge and he has turned that coyote loose against me. Lookslike I had one of two things to do--kill the cuss or jump the town."

  "Shoot him on sight," advised Miller.

  "If I do that I'm 'in bad' with the court," Kelley argued. "You see,when I took him before, I had the law on my side. Now it's just man toman--until he commits another crime. Killing me wouldn't be a crime."

  "That's so," mused his friend. "You're cinched any way you look at it."

  Kelley went on: "Moreover, some of my greaser friends have started aline of fool talk about making me sheriff, and that has just naturallyset the whole _political_ ring against me. They'd just as soon I gotkilled as not--a little sooner. I've a right to resign, haven't I?Nobody has a license to call me a coward after what I've done, havethey?"

  "No license; but I reckon they will, all the same," responded hisfriend.

  Kelley's face hardened. "Well, I'll disappoint 'em. I'm going to staywith it." However, he went to the mayor and voiced his resentment of thecourt's action.

  His Honor pretended to be greatly concerned. "Now, don't quit on us, Ed.Hornaby expects you to stay put. You're the only man who can clean upthe town. You've done great work already, and we appreciate it. In fact,we're going to raise your pay."

  "Pay to a corpse don't count," retorted Kelley. "It's a question ofbacking. You fellows have got to stand behind me."

  "We'll do it, Ed. Only, Hornaby thinks you'd better put a card in thepaper saying that you have no intention of going into politics."

  "Oh, hell!" said Kelley, disgustedly. "Is Hornaby suspicious of me, too?Well, for that I've a mind to run," and he went out in deep disgust.

  As the days went by and no open movement against him took place, hisvigilance somewhat relaxed. Mink kept to his lair like some treacherous,bloodthirsty animal, which was a bad sign.

  At heart Tall Ed was restless and discontented. Each day he walked thestreets of the fly-bit town; dreaming of the glorious desert spaces hehad crossed and of the high trails he had explored. He became more andmore homesick for the hills. Far away to the north gleamed the snowycrest of the Continental Divide, and the desire to ride on, over thatmajestic barrier into valleys whose purple shadows allured him likebanners, grew stronger. Each night he lifted his face to
the stars andthought of his glorious moonlit camps on the Rio Perco sands, and thesound of waterfalls was in his dreams.

  "What am I here for?" he asked himself. "Why should I be watch-dog--me,a wolf, a free ranger! Why should I be upholding the law? What's the lawto a tramp?"

  Had it not been for a curious sense of loyalty to Hornaby, added to anatural dislike of being called a quitter, he would have surrenderedhis star and resumed his saddle. He owned a good horse once more and hadearned nearly two hundred dollars. "With my present outfit I can ambleclear across to Oregon," he assured himself, wistfully.

  As he stood with uplifted face, dreaming of the mountains, Rosa Lemontcame down the street, and as she passed him said in a low voice: "Mink'son the plaza--crazy drunk. Watch out!"

  Kelley straightened and cast an unhurried glance around him. No one wasin sight but a group of cow-punchers tying their horses in front of asaloon, and a few miners seated on the edge of the walk. Nevertheless,he knew the girl had good reason for her warning, and so, after walkinga block or two in the opposite direction, he turned and came slowly backup the main street till he reached Lemont's doorway, where he paused,apparently interested in something across the street.

  Rosa came from within and with equally well-simulated carelessnessleaned against the door-frame. "Mink's bug-house," she explained, "andgot a Winchester. He's just around the corner, waiting for you. He sayshe's going to shoot you on sight." She stammered a little withexcitement, but her voice was low.

  "Much obliged, Rosie," he replied, feelingly. "Don't worry. I may seehim first. And listen; while I have a chance I want to thank you forpushing that screen onto him. It was a good job."

  "That's all right," she answered, hastily. "But please be careful."

  "Don't worry," he gravely replied. "I've beat him once and I can do itagain." And after a pause he added: "I reckon you're the only one thatcares what happens to me--but don't mix in this game, little one. Don'tdo it."

  A crowd had gathered in the street, with attention concentrated as iffor a dog-fight, and Kelley, pushing his way through the circle,suddenly confronted Mink, who, as the object of interest, was busied inrolling a cigarette, while his Winchester leaned against a post. To thisfact Kelley probably owed his life, for in the instant between thegambler's recognition and the snatching up of his rifle Kelley was ableto catch and depress the muzzle of the gun before it was discharged. Thebullet passed low, entering the wooden sidewalk close to his foot. "I'lltake that gun," he said, and would have immediately overpowered hisadversary had not several of the by-standers furiously closed in uponhim. Single-handed he was forced to defend himself against these, hisfellow-citizens, as well as against Mink, who struggled like a wildcatfor the possession of his gun. One man seized the marshal from behind,pinioning his arms. Another hung upon his neck. A third dogged at hisknees, a fourth disarmed him.

  Battered, bruised, covered with blood and dirt, the marshal fought likea panther weighed down with hounds. Twice he went to earth smothered,blinded, gasping, but rose again almost miraculously, still unconquered,until at last, through the sudden weakening of the men on his right armhe gained possession of the rifle, and with one furious sweep brought itdown on the gambler's head. Another circling stroke and his assailantsfell away. With blazing eyes he called out: "_Get back there now! Everyman of you!_"

  Breathing hard, he looked them over one by one. "You're a pretty bunchof citizens," he said, with cutting contempt. "You ought to beshot--every man jack of you!" Then glancing down at the wounded gamblerat his feet, he added: "Some of you better take this whelp to a doctor.He needs help."

  Lemont and another of Mink's friends took up the unconscious man andcarried him into the drug-store, and Kelley followed, with a feelingthat all the town was against him, and that he must re-arm himself for anight of warfare. His revolver was gone, and to replace it and to gain abreathing-space he retreated to his room, his endurance all butexhausted.

  He had no regret for what he had done. On the contrary, he took a savagesatisfaction in having at last ended Mink, but as he hurriedly buckledon his cartridge-belt, he foresaw the danger ahead of him in Mink'sfriends, who, he knew, would get him if they could.

  The patter of feet in the hall and a knock at the door startled him."Who's there?" he demanded, catching up his rifle.

  "It's Rosa," called a girlish voice. "Let me in."

  "Are you alone?"

  "Yes. Open! Quick!"

  He opened the door, gun in hand. "What is it, Rosie?" he gently asked.

  "They're coming!" she answered, breathlessly.

  "Who're coming?"

  "That saloon crowd. They're almost here!"

  Other footsteps sounded on the stairs. "Run away, girl," said Kelley,softly. "There's going to be trouble--"

  Rosie pushed him back into the room. "No, no! Let me stay! Let me helpyou fight!" she pleaded.

  While still he hesitated, Mrs. Mink, a short, squat woman with eyesaflame with hate, rushed through the doorway and thrust a rifle againstKelley's breast. Quick as a boxer Rosa pushed the weapon from thewoman's hands and with desperate energy shoved her backward through thedoor and closed it.

  "Run--run!" she called to the marshal.

  But Kelley did not move, and something in his face turned the girl'sface white. He was standing like a man hypnotized, every muscle rigid.With fallen jaw and staring eyes he looked at the weapon in his hand. Atlast he spoke huskily:

  "Girl, you've saved my soul from hell. You surely have!" He shivered asif with cold, rubbing his hands stiffly. "Yes," he muttered, "a secondmore and I'd 'a' killed her--killed a woman!"

  The sound of a fierce altercation came up the hall. Cautious footstepswere heard approaching, and at last a voice called out, "Hello, Kelley!You there?"

  "I am. What's wanted of me?"

  "It's the mayor. Let me speak with you a minute."

  Kelley considered for a breath or two; his brain was sluggish. "Open thedoor, Rosie," he finally said and backed against the wall.

  The girl obeyed, and the mayor entered, but his hands were open andraised. "Don't shoot, Ed. We're friends." He was followed by the judgeand a couple of aldermen.

  "It's all right, Ed," said the judge. "Mink's coming to life. Put upyour gun. We don't blame you. He had no call to attack an officer likethat--"

  At the word "officer" Kelley let his rifle slip with a slam to the floorand began to fumble at the badge on his coat. "That reminds me, yourHonor," he said, at last. "Here's a little piece of tin that belongs toyou--or the city."

  He tossed the loosened badge to the mayor, who caught it deftly,protesting: "Oh, don't quit, Ed. You've just about won the fight. Staywith it."

  A wry smile wrinkled one side of the trailer's set face. "I'm no fool,your Honor. I know when I've got enough. I don't mind being shot in theback and mobbed and wallered in the dirt--that's all in the day's work;but when it comes to having women pop in on me with Winchesters I mustbe excused. I'm leaving for the range. I'll enjoy being neighbor to theconies for a while. This civilized life is a little too busy for me."

  Rosa, who had been listening, understood his mood much better than themen, and with her small hands upon his arm she pleaded: "Take me withyou! I hate these people--I want to go with you."

  He turned a tender, pitying, almost paternal glance upon her. "No, girl,no. I can't do that. You're too young. It wouldn't be right to snarl agrown woman's life up with mine--much less a child like you." Then, asif to soften the effect of his irrevocable decision, he added: "Perhapssome time we'll meet again. But it's good-by now." He put his arm abouther and drew her to his side and patted her shoulder as if she were alad. Then he turned. "Lend me a dollar, Judge! I'm anxious to ride."

  The judge looked troubled. "We're sorry, Ed--but if you feel that way,why--"

  "That's the way I feel," answered the trailer, and his tone wasconclusive.

  * * * * *

  Dusk was falling when, mounted on his horse, with his "s
take" in hispocket, Kelley rode out of the stable into the street swarming withexcited men. The opposition had regained its courage. Yells of vengeancerose: "Lynch him! Lynch the dog!" was the cry.

  Reining his bronco into the middle of the road, with rifle across thepommel of his saddle, Kelley advanced upon the crowd, in the shadowyfringes of which he could see ropes swinging in the hands of Mink'sdrunken partisans.

  "Come on, you devils!" he called. "Throw a rope if you dare."

  Awed by the sheer bravery of the challenge, the crowd slowly gave waybefore him.

  The block seemed a mile long to Kelley, but he rode it at a walk, hishorse finding his own way, until at last he reached the bridge which ledto the high-line Red Mountain road. Here he paused, faced about, andsheathed his Winchester, then with a wave of his hand toward RosaLemont, who had followed him thus far, he called out:

  "Good-by, girl! You're the only thing worth saving in the whole derntown. _Adios!_"

  And, defeated for the first time in his life, Tall Ed turned hiscayuse's head to the San McGill range, with only the memory of aworshipful child-woman's face to soften the effect of his hardexperience as the Marshal of Brimstone Basin.

  PARTNERS FOR A DAY

  I

  Cinnebar was filled with those who took chances. The tenderfoot stakedhis claim on the chance of selling it again. The prospector toiled inhis overland tunnel on the chance of cracking the apex of a vein. Thesmall companies sank shafts on the chance of touching pay ore, the bigcompanies tunneled deep and drifted wide in the hope of cutting severalveins. The merchants built in the belief that the camp was a permanenttown, and the gamblers took chances of losing money if their game washonest, and put their lives at hazard if they cheated.

  Only the saloon-keepers took no chances whatever. They played the safegame. They rejoiced in a certainty, for if the miners had good luck theydrank to celebrate it, and if they had bad luck they drank to forgetit--and so the liquor-dealers prospered.

  Tall Ed Kelley, on his long trip across "the big flat," as he called thevalley between the Continental Divide and the Cascade Range, stopped atCinnebar to see what was going on. In less than three days he sold hishorse and saddle and took a chance on a leased mine. At the end of ayear he was half owner in a tunnel that was yielding a fair grade of oreand promised to pay, but he was not content. A year in one place was along time for him, and he was already meditating a sale of his interestin order that he might take up the line of his march toward theNorthwest, when a curious experience came to him.

  One night as he drifted into the Palace saloon he felt impelled to takea chance with "the white marble." That is to say, he sat in at theroulette-table and began to play small stakes.

  The man who rolled the marble was young and good-looking. Kelley hadseen him before and liked him. Perhaps this was the reason he playedroulette instead of faro. At any rate, he played, losing steadily atfirst--then, suddenly, the ball began to fall his way, and before theclock pointed to ten he had several hundred dollars in winnings.

  "This is my night," he said, on meeting the eyes of the young dealer.

  "Don't crowd a winning horse," retorted the man at the wheel; and Kelleycaught something in his look which checked his play and led him to quitthe game. In that glance the gambler had conveyed a friendly warning,although he said, as Kelley was going away: "Be a sport. Give the wheelanother show. See me to-morrow."

  Kelley went away with a distinct feeling of friendliness toward theyoungster, whose appearance was quite unlike the ordinary gambler. Heseemed not merely bored, but disgusted with his trade, and Kelley saidto himself: "That lad has a story to tell. He's no ordinary robber."

  The next afternoon he met the youth on the street. "Much obliged foryour tip last night. The game looked all right to me."

  "It _was_ all right," replied the gambler. "I didn't mean that it wascrooked. But I hate to see a good man lose his money as you were sure todo."

  "I thought you meant the wheel was 'fixed.'"

  "Oh no. It's straight. I call a fair game. But I knew your run of luckcouldn't last and"--he hesitated a little--"I'd kinda taken a fancy toyou."

  "Well, that's funny, too," replied Kelley. "I went over to play yourmachine because I kind of cottoned to you. I reckon we're due to befriends. My name's Kelley--Tall Ed the boys call me."

  "Mine is Morse--Fred Morse. I came out here with a grub-stake, lost it,and, being out of a job, fell into rolling the marble for a living. Whatare you--a miner?"

  "I make a bluff at mining a leased claim up here, but I'll admit I'mnothing but a wandering cow-puncher--a kind of mounted hobo. I have anitch to keep moving. I've been here a year and I'm crazy to straddle ahorse and ride off into the West. I know the South and East prettywell--so the open country for me is off there where the sun goes down."His voice had a touch of poetry in it, and the other man, though he feltthe bigness of the view, said:

  "I never was on a horse in my life, and I don't like roughing it. But Ilike you and I wish you'd let me see something of you. Where are youliving?"

  "Mostly up at my mine--but I have a room down here at the Boston House.I pick up my meals anywhere."

  The young man's voice grew hesitant. "Would you consider taking me in asa side partner? I'm lonesome where I am."

  Kelley was touched by the gambler's tone. "No harm trying," he said,with a smile. "We couldn't do more than kill each other. But I warn youI'm likely any day to buy an old cayuse and pull out. I'm subject tofits like that."

  "All right--I'll take the chance. I'm used to taking chances."

  Kelley laughed. "So am I."

  In this informal way they formed a social partnership, and the likingthey mutually acknowledged deepened soon into a friendship that wasclose akin to fraternal love.

  Within a week each knew pretty accurately the origin and history of theother, and although they had but an hour or two of an afternoon fortalk, they grew to depend upon each other, strangely, and when one dayMorse came into the room in unwonted excitement and said, "Ed, I wantyou to do something for me," Kelley instantly replied: "All right, boy.Spit it out. What's wanted?"

  "I'm in a devil of a hole. My mother and my little sister are comingthrough here on their way to the Coast. They're going to stop off to seeme. I want you to let me in on a partnership in your mine just for aday. They'll only stay a few hours, but I want to have them think I'mmaking my living in a mine. You get me?"

  "Sure thing, Fred. When are they due?"

  "To-morrow."

  "All right. You get a lay-off from your boss and we'll pull the dealthrough. I'll tell my old partner I've taken you in on my share andhe'll carry out his part of it. He's a good deal of a bonehead, but notalker. But you'll have to put on some miner's duds and spend to-dayriding around the hills to get a little sunburn. You don't look like aminer."

  "I know it. That worries me, too."

  Having given his promise, Kelley seemed eager to carry the plan throughsuccessfully. He was sorry for the youth, but he was sorrier for themother who was coming with such fond pride in the success of herson--for Morse confessed that he had been writing of his "mine" for ayear.

  He outfitted his new partner with a pair of well-worn miner's boots andsome trousers that were stained with clay, and laughed when Fred foundthem several inches too long.

  "You've got to wear 'em. No! New ones won't work. How would it do foryou to be so durn busy at the mine that I had to come down and bringyour people up?"

  "Good idea!" Then his face became blank. "What would I be busy about?"

  "That's so!" grinned Kelley. "Well, let's call it your day off and_I'll_ be busy."

  "No, I want you to come with me to the train. I need you. You must domost of the talking--about the mine, I mean. I'll say you're thepractical miner and I'll refer all questions about the business to you.And we must keep out of the main street. I don't want mother to even_pass_ the place I've been operating in."

  "What if they decide to stay all night?"

 
"They won't. They're going right on. They won't be here more than fiveor six hours."

  "All right. We'll find 'em dinner up at Mrs. Finnegan's. If they're likemost tourists they'll think the rough-scuff ways of the Boston Housegreat fun. By the way, how old is this little sister?"

  "Oh, she must be about twenty-two."

  "Good Lord!" Kelley was dashed. He thought a minute. "Well, you attendto her and I'll keep the old lady interested."

  "No, you've got to keep close to Flo. I'm more afraid of her than I amof mother. She's sharp as tacks, and the least little 'break' on my partwill let her in on my 'stall.' No, you've got to be on guard all thetime."

  "Well, I'll do my best, but I'm no 'Billie dear,' with girls. I've grewup on the trail, and my talk is mostly red-neck. But I mean well, as thefellow says, even if I don't always do well."

  "Oh, you're all right, Kelley. You look the real thing. You'll be partof the scenery for them."

  "Spin the marble! It's only for half a day, anyway. They can call me ahole in the ground if they want to. But you must get some tan. I tellyou what you do. You go up on the hill and lay down in the sun and burnthat saloon bleach off your face and neck and hands. That's _got_ to bedone. You've got the complexion of a barber."

  Morse looked at his white, supple hands and felt of his smooth chin."You're right. It's a dead give-away. I'll look like a jailbird to themif I don't color up. If I'd only known it a few days sooner I'd havestarted a beard."

  "You'll be surprised at what the sun will do in two hours," Kelley said,encouragingly. "You'll peel afterward, but you'll get rid of thebleach."

  II

  In truth Morse looked very well the next morning as he stood besideKelley and watched the High Line train come in over the shoulder ofMogallon and loop its cautious way down the mine-pitted slopes. His mainuneasiness was caused by the thought that his mother might ask some manon the train if he knew her son, and he was disturbed also by a numberof citizens lounging on the platform. Some of them were curious aboutthe change in him: "Hello, Fred! Going fishing, or been?"

  The boy was trembling as he laid his hand on Kelley's arm. "Ed, I feellike a coyote. It's a dang shame to fool your old mother like this."

  "Better to fool her than to disappoint her," answered Tall Ed. "Stiffenup, boy! Carry it through."

  The little train drew up to the station and disgorged a crowd of Italianworkmen from the smoker and a throng of tourists from theobservation-car, and among these gay "trippers" Kelley saw a small,plain little woman in black and a keen-eyed, laughing girl who waved herhand to Fred. "Why, she's a queen!" thought Kelley.

  Mrs. Morse embraced her son with a few murmured words of endearment, butthe girl held her brother off and looked at him. "Well, you _do_ lookthe part," she said. "What a glorious sunburn--and the boots--and thehat, and all! Why, Fred, you resemble a man."

  "I may resemble one," he said, "but here's the real thing. Here's mypartner, Tall Ed Kelley." He pulled Kelley by the arm. "Ed, this is mymother--"

  "Howdy, ma'am," said Kelley, extending a timid hand.

  "And this is my sister Florence."

  "Howdy, miss," repeated Kelley.

  Florence laughed as she shook hands. "He says 'Howdy' just like thebooks."

  Kelley stiffened a bit. "What should a feller say? Howdy's the word."

  "I told you she'd consider you part of the scenery," put in Fred. "Well,now, mother, we're going to take you right up to our mine. It's away ontop of that hill--"

  "Oh, glorious!" exclaimed Florence. "And is it a real mine?"

  "It is. But Kelley is boss, so I'm going to let him tell you all aboutit. He's the man that found it."

  Mrs. Morse looked up at the towering hill. "How do we get there?"

  "A trolley-car runs part way, and then--we'll take a cab. Come on," headded, anxiously, for he could see some of his saloon friends edgingnear.

  The trolley came down almost to the station, and in a few moments theywere aboard with Kelley seated beside Florence and Mrs. Morse fondlyclinging to her son, who seemed more boyish than ever to Kelley. The oldtrailer was mightily embarrassed by his close contact with a sprightlygirl. He had never known any one like her. She looked like the picturesin the magazines--same kind of hat, same kind of jacket and skirt--andshe talked like a magazine story, too. Her face was small, her lipssweet, and her eyes big and bright.

  She was chatty as a camp bird, and saw everything, and wanted to knowabout it. Why were there so many empty cabins? What was the meaning ofall those rusty, ruined mills? Weren't there any gardens or grass?

  "Why, you see, miss, the camp is an old busted camp. I'm working alease--I mean, we are--"

  "What do you mean by a lease?"

  "Well, you see, a lot of men have got discouraged and quit, and wentback East and offered their claims for lease on royalty, and I andanother feller--and Fred--we took one of these and it happened to haveore in it."

  "How long has Fred been with you?--he never mentioned you in hisletters."

  "Why, it's about a year since we took the lease." Kelley began to growhot under her keen eyes.

  "Strange he never wrote of you. He seems very proud of you, too."

  Kelley looked out of the window. "We get along first rate."

  The girl studied his fine profile attentively. "I'm glad he fell in witha strong man like you--an experienced miner. He might have made amistake and lost all his small fortune. My! but it's fine up here!What's that wonderful snowy range off there?"

  "That's the Sangre de Cristo Range."

  "Sangre de Cristo--Blood of Christ! Those old Spaniards had a lot ofpoetry in them, didn't they?"

  "I reckon so--and a whole lot of stiffening, too. You go through theSouthwest and see the country they trailed over--the hot, dry places andthe quicksands and canyons and all that. They sure made them Injunsremember when they passed by."

  "You know that country?"

  "I may say I do. It was my parade-ground for about fifteen years. Iroamed over most of it. It's a fine country."

  "Why did you leave it? Do you like this better?"

  "I like any new country. I like to explore."

  "But you're settled for a while?"

  "Well, I don't know--if my partner will take my interest, I think I'llshift along. I want to get into Alaska finally. I'd like to climb one ofthem high peaks."

  Fred, who was seated in front, turned. "Mother wants to know what themine paid last year--you tell her."

  "It didn't pay much," replied Kelley, cautiously. "You see, we had somenew machinery to put in and some roads to grade and one thing oranother--I reckon it paid about"--he hesitated--"about three hundred amonth. But it's going to do better this year."

  Florence, who was studying the men sharply, then said, "You wrote youwere getting about five dollars a day."

  Fred's face showed distress. "I meant _net_," he said. "I didn't want toworry you about details of machinery and all that."

  Kelley began to feel that the girl's ears and eyes were alert to alldiscrepancies, and he became cautious--so cautious that his pausesrevealed more than his words. But the mother saw nothing, heard nothing,but the face and voice of her son, who pointed out the big mines thatwere still running and the famous ones that were "dead," and so kept herfrom looking too closely at the steep grades up which the car climbed.

  At length, on the very crest of the high, smooth hill, they alighted andFred led the way toward a rusty old hack that looked as much out ofplace on that wind-swept point as a Chinese pagoda.

  Florence spoke of it. "Looks like Huckleberry Springs. Whom does itsowner find to carry up here?"

  "Mostly it carries the minister and undertaker at funerals," repliedKelley.

  "Cheerful lot!" exclaimed the girl. "It smells morbific."

  "You can't be particular up here," responded Fred. "You'll find ourboarding-place somewhat crude."

  "Oh, I don't mind crudeness--but I hate decayed pretensions. If thiswere only a mountain cart now!"

  "It
was the only kerridge with springs," explained Kelley.

  The little mother now began to take notice of her son's partner. "My sontells me you have been very good to him--a kind of big brother. I amvery grateful."

  "Oh, I've done no more for him than he has for me. We both felt kind oflonesome and so rode alongside."

  "It's wonderful to me how you could keep Mr. Kelley out of yourletters," said Florence. "He looks exactly like a Remington character,only his eyes are honester and his profile handsomer."

  Kelley flushed and Fred laughed. "I never did understand why Remingtonmade all his men cross-eyed."

  Mrs. Morse put her small, cold hand on Kelley's wrist. "Don't mind mydaughter. She's got this new fad of speaking her mind. She's a gooddaughter--even if she does say rude things."

  "Oh, I don't mind being called 'a good-looker,'" said Kelley, "only Iwant to be sure I'm not being made game of."

  "You needn't worry," retorted Fred. "A man of your inches is safe fromridicule."

  "Ridicule!" exclaimed Florence, with a glance of admiration. "You can'tridicule a tall pine."

  "I told you she'd have you a part of the landscape," exulted Fred."She'll have you a mountain peak next."

  Kelley, who felt himself at a disadvantage, remained silent, but not ina sulky mood. The girl was too entertaining for that. It amused him toget the point of view of a city-bred woman to whom everything was eitherstrange or related to some play or story she had known. The cabins, themills, the occasional miners they met, all absorbed her attention, andwhen they reached the little shaft-house and were met by old HankStoddard, Kelley's partner, her satisfaction was complete, for Hank hadall the earmarks of the old prospector--tangled beard, jack-boots, pipe,flannel shirt, and all. He was from the South also, and spoke with adrawl.

  "Oh, but he is a joy!" Florence said, privately, to Kelley. "I didn'tknow such Bret Harte types existed any more. How did you find him?"

  "I used to know him down on the Perco. He had a mine down there thatcame just within a hair-line of paying, and when I ran across him uphere he had a notion the mine would do to lease. I hadn't much, only ahorse and saddle and a couple of hundred dollars, but we formed apartnership."

  "That was before my brother came into the firm."

  Kelley recovered himself. "Yes; you see, he came in a little later--whenwe needed a little ready cash."

  She seemed satisfied, but as they went into the mine she listenedclosely to all that Kelley and Stoddard said. Stoddard's remarks weresafe, for he never so much as mentioned Kelley's name. It was all "I"with old Hank--"I did this" and "I did that"--till Florence said toKelley:

  "You junior partners in this mine don't seem to be anything but'company' for Mr. Stoddard."

  "Hank always was a bit conceited," admitted Kelley. "But then, he is areal, sure-enough miner. We are only 'capitalists.'"

  "Where did Fred get all the signs of toil on his trousers and boots?"she asked, with dancing eyes.

  "Oh, he works--part of the time."

  She peered into his face with roguish glance. "Does it all with hislegs, I guess. I notice his hands are soft as mine."

  Kelley nearly collapsed. "Good Lord!" he thought. "You ought to be afemale detective." He came to the line gamely. "Well, there's a gooddeal of running to be done, and we let him do the outside messengerwork."

  "His sunburn seems quite recent. And his trousers don't fit as histrousers usually do. He used to be finicky about such things."

  "A feller does get kind of careless up here in the hills," Kelleyargued.

  They did not stay long in the mine, for there wasn't much to see. It wasa very small mine--and walking made the mother short of breath. And sothey came back to the office and Hank arranged seats on somedynamite-boxes and a keg of spikes, and then left them to talk thingsover.

  "I'm so glad you're up here--where it's so clean and quiet," said themother. "I'm told these mining towns are dreadful, almost barbaric, evenyet. Of course they're not as they were in Bret Harte's time, but theyare said to be rough and dangerous. I hope you don't have to go downthere often."

  "Of course I have to go, mother. We get all our supplies and our maildown there."

  "I suppose that's true. But Mr. Kelley seems such a strong, capableperson"--here she whispered--"but I don't think much of your otherpartner, Mr. Stoddard."

  "Who? Old Hank? Why, he's steady as a clock. He looks rough, but he'sthe kindest old chap on the hill. Why, he's scared to death of you andFlo--"

  "He has the appearance of a neglected old bachelor."

  "Well, he isn't. He has a wife and seven children back in Tennessee--sohe says."

  "Fred," said Florence, sharply, "I hope you aren't playing off on thesepartners of yours."

  "What do you mean?"

  "I mean--letting them do all the hard and disagreeable work."

  Kelley interposed. "Don't you worry about us, miss. We aren'tcomplaining. We can't do the part he does. He does all the buying andselling--and--correspondence--and the like of that. But come, it'spretty near noon. I reckon we'd better drift along to Mrs. Finnegan's.The first table is bad enough in our boarding-place."

  Again Fred took his mother and left Kelley to lead the way withFlorence.

  "Now, Mr. Kelley," began the girl, "I must tell you that I don't believemy brother has a thing to do with this mine except to divide theprofits. Furthermore, you are trying to cover something up from me.You're doing it very well, but you've made one or two little 'catches'which have disturbed me. My brother has never mentioned you or Hank inhis letters, and that's unnatural. He told us he was interested in amine which was paying one hundred and fifty dollars a month. Now, whydid he say that? I'll tell you why. It's because you pay him a salaryand he's not really a partner." She paused to watch his face, then wenton. "Now what does he do--what can he do to earn five dollars per day?His palms are as soft as silk--the only callous is on his rightforefinger."

  Kelley's face, schooled to impassivity, remained unchanged, but his eyesshifted. His astonishment was too great to be entirely concealed."There's a whole lot of running--and figuring--and so on."

  "Not with that little mine. Why, you can't employ more than five men!"

  "Six," corrected Kelley, proudly.

  "Well, six. You can't afford to pay my brother five dollars a day justto run errands and keep accounts for these six men. You're fooling him.You're paying him a salary out of sheer good nature because you likehim. Deny it if you can!"

  Kelley looked back to see that Fred was well out of earshot. "He _is_mighty good company," he admitted.

  "There!" she exclaimed, triumphantly. "You can't fool me. I knew therewas something queer about this whole arrangement." Then her voicechanged. "It's very, very kind of you, Mr. Kelley, and I deeplyappreciate it, and if you don't want me to do it--I will not let motherinto our secret."

  "What's the use? He's happier being called a partner."

  "Very well--we'll let it go that way."

  Thereafter her manner changed. She was more thoughtful; she looked athim with softer eyes. It seemed to her very wonderful, this friendshipbetween a rough, big man and her brother, who had always been somethingof a scapegrace at home. Her own regard for Kelley deepened. "Men aren'tsuch brutes, after all."

  Her smile was less mocking, her jests less pointed, as she sat at Mrs.Finnegan's long table and ate boiled beef and cabbage and drank thesimmered hay which they called tea. She was opposite Kelley this time,and could study him to better advantage.

  Kelley, on his part, was still very uneasy. The girl's uncannypenetration had pressed so clearly to the heart of his secret that hefeared the hours which remained. "I'm at the end of my rope," heinwardly admitted. "She'll catch me sure unless I can get away fromher."

  Nevertheless, he wondered a little and was a trifle chagrined when thegirl suddenly turned from him to her brother. He was a little uneasythereat, for he was certain she would draw from the youngster someadmissions that would lead to a full confession.

  As
a matter of fact, she sought her brother's knowledge of Kelley. "Tellme about him, Fred. Where did you meet him first? He interests me."

  "Well," Morse answered, cautiously, "I don't know exactly. I used to seehim come down the hill of an evening after his mail, and I kind of tooka shine to him and he did to me. At least that's what he said afterward.He has had a wonderful career. He's been all over Arizona and New Mexicoalone. He's been arrested for a bandit and almost killed as citymarshal, and he has been associated with a band of cattle-rustlers. Oh,you should get him talking. He nearly died of thirst in the desert once,and a snake bit him in the Navajo country, and he lay sick for weeks ina Hopi town."

  "What a singular life! Is he satisfied with it?"

  "He says he is. He declares he is never so happy as when he is leading apack-horse across the range."

  "I don't wonder you like him," she said, thoughtfully. "But you shoulddo your part. Don't let him be always the giver and you the taker. I'mafraid you shirk on him a little, Fred."

  "Why? What makes you think that?"

  "Well, your hands are pretty soft for a working miner."

  He met her attack bravely. "You don't suppose we do all the pick work inthe mine, do you?"

  "No. I don't see how you could possibly do any of it. Come now, Freddy,''fess up.' You've been playing the gentleman in this enterprise and allthis make-up is for our benefit, isn't it?"

  Young Morse saw that the safest plan was to admit the truth of hersurmise. "Oh, well, I never did have any hand in the actual mining, butthen there is plenty of other work to be done."

  Her answer was sharp and clear: "Well, then, do it! Don't be a drone."

  Something very plain and simple and boyish came out in the young gambleras he walked and talked with his mother and sister, and Kelley regardedhim with some amazement and much humor. It only proved that every man,no matter how warlike he pretends to be in public, is in private a weak,sorry soul, dependent on some one; and this youth, so far from being adesperado, was by nature an affectionate son and a loyal brother.

  Furthermore, Kelley himself felt very much less the tramp and much more"like folks" than at any time since leaving home ten or fifteen yearsbefore. He was careful to minimize all his hobo traits and tocorrespondingly exalt his legitimate mining and cattle experiences,although he could see that Morse had made Florence curious about theother and more adventurous side of his career.

  Florence was now determined to make a study of the town. "I like it uphere," she said, as she looked down over the tops of the houses. "Itinterests me, Fred; I propose that you keep us all night."

  "Oh, we can't do that!" exclaimed her brother, hastily. "We haven'troom."

  "Well, there's a hotel, I should hope."

  "A hotel--yes. But it is a pretty bad hotel. You see, it's sort of rundown--like the town."

  This did not seem to disturb her. Rather, it added to her interest. "Nomatter. We can stand it one night. I want to see the place. I would liketo see a little of its street life to-night. It's all so new andstrange to me."

  Kelley, perceiving that she was determined upon this stop-over, andfearing that the attempt to railroad her out of town on the afternoontrain might add to her suspicions, then said:

  "I think we can find a place for you if you feel like staying."

  Morse was extremely uneasy, and Florence remarked upon it. "You don'tseem overflowing with hospitality, Fred. You don't seem anxious to haveus stay on for another day."

  He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Well, it's a prettyrough old village, Flo--a pretty rough place for you and mother."

  "We are not alarmed so long as we have you and Mr. Kelley as ourprotectors," she replied, smiling sweetly upon Tall Ed.

  They had reached the car-line by this time, and were standing lookingdown the valley, and Fred, pulling out his watch, remarked: "You justhave time to make that three-o'clock train. That will connect you withthe night express for Los Angeles."

  "Fred, what's the matter with you?" queried his sister, sharply. "Youseem absolutely determined to get rid of us at once." Then, seeing thatshe had perhaps gone a little too far, she said, with a smile, "Mother,isn't he the loving son?"

  The youth surrendered to her will and dropped all opposition. Heappeared to welcome their decision to wait over another day; but Kelleybusied himself with thinking how he could ward off any undesiredinformation which might approach the two women--the mother especially.It would be quite wonderful if, with another twenty-four hours tospend, Florence did not get Fred's secret from him.

  He decided to put the matter squarely before her, and when they took thecar arranged to have her sit beside him in a seat across the aisle fromthe mother and son, and almost immediately began his explanation bysaying, very significantly:

  "I reckon the boy is right, Miss Morse. You had better take thatthree-o'clock train."

  She faced him with instant appreciation of the change in his tone. "Whyso?" she asked, fixing a clear and steady glance upon his face.

  "It will be easier for him and better for--for all of us if you go. Hewants to spare your mother from--"

  She was quick to perceive his hesitation. "From what?" she asked. And ashe did not at once reply she went on, firmly: "You might just as welltell me, Mr. Kelley. Fred's been up to some mischief. He's afraid, andyou're afraid, we'll find out something to his disadvantage. Now tellme. Is it--is it--a woman?"

  "No," said Kelley as decisively as he could. "So far as I know Fred'snot tangled up _that_ way."

  Quick as a flash she took him up on his emphasized word. "In what way_is_ he tangled up?"

  Kelley, more and more amazed at her shrewdness and directness, decidedto meet it with blunt candor. "Well, you see, it's like this. When hefirst came out here he struck a streak of hard luck and lost all he had.He was forced to go to work at anything he could get to earn money,and--you see, when a feller is down and out he's got to grab anythingthat offers--and so, when Dutch Pete took a liking to him and offeredhim a job, he just naturally had to take it."

  "You mean he has been working at something we wouldn't like to knowabout?"

  "That's the size of it."

  "What is this job? It isn't working for you. You wouldn't ask him to doanything that would be disgraceful."

  Kelley did not take time to appreciate this compliment. He made hisplunge. "No. He has been working for--a saloon."

  She showed the force of the blow by asking in a horrified tone, "Youdon't mean tending bar!"

  "Oh no! Not so bad as that," replied Kelley. "Leastways it don't seem sobad to me. He's been rolling the marble in a roulette wheel."

  She stared at him in perplexity. "I don't believe--I--I don't believe Iunderstand what that is. Just tell me exactly."

  "Well, he's been taking care of a roulette layout."

  "You mean he has been gambling?"

  "Well, no. He hasn't been gambling. At least, not lately. But herepresents the house, you see. He is something like a dealer at faro andis on a salary."

  She comprehended fully now--at least she comprehended enough to settleback into her seat with a very severe and somber expression on her face."That's where his five per day comes from." She mused for a little whileon this, and then suddenly another thought came to her: "What about hisbeing your partner?"

  Kelley saw that it was necessary to go the whole way, and he said,quietly: "That was all fixed up yesterday. You see, he wanted to saveyour mother and you, and he came to me--and wanted me to take him in asa partner, and--I did it."

  "You mean a partner for a day?"

  "Yes. He was mighty nervous about your coming, and I told him I wouldhelp him out. Of course, it didn't worry me none, and so I concluded Iwould do it."

  Her face softened as she pondered upon this. "That was very good of you,Mr. Kelley."

  "Oh no! You see, I kinda like the boy. And then we've beenpartners--side partners. We room together."

  She looked out of the window, but she saw nothing of the landscape no
w."I understand it all. You want me to take mother away before she findsout."

  "'Pears like that is the best thing for you to do. It would hit her agood deal harder than it does you."

  "It hits me hard enough," she replied. "To think of my brother running agambling-machine in a saloon is not especially reassuring. You say hewent into it to carry him over a hard place. I'm afraid you were savingmy feelings in saying that, Mr. Kelley. How long has he been in thisbusiness?"

  "A little less than a year."

  "And you want me to go away without trying to get him out of this awfultrade?"

  "I don't see how you could safely try it. I think he is going to quit ithimself. Your coming has been a terrible jolt to him. Now I'll tell youwhat you do. You take the old lady and pull out over the hill and I'llundertake to get the boy out of this gambling myself."

  She was deeply affected by his quiet and earnest manner, and studied himwith reflective glance before she said: "You're right. Mother must neverknow of this. She was brought up to believe that saloons and gamblingwere the devil's strongest lure for souls, and it would break her heartto know that Fred has become a gambler. I will do as you say, Mr.Kelley. I will take this train. But you must write me and tell me whatyou do. You will write, won't you?"

  "Yes," replied Kelley, hesitatingly. "I'll write--but I ain't much of afist at it. Of course, I may not make a go of my plan, but I think itwill work out all right."

  She reached her hand to him, as if to seal a compact, and he took it.She said: "I don't know who you are or what you are, Mr. Kelley. Butyou've been a loyal friend to my brother and very considerate of mymother and me, and I appreciate it deeply."

  Kelley flushed under the pressure of her small fingers, and replied asindifferently as he could: "That's all right, miss. I've got a motherand a sister myself."

  "Well, they'd be proud of you if they could know what you have doneto-day," she said.

  His face took on a look of sadness. "They might. But I'm glad they don'tknow all I've been through in the last ten years."

  III

  Morse was surprised, almost delighted, when his sister announced herdecision to take the afternoon train. "That's right," he said. "You canstop on your way back in the spring. Perhaps Kelley and I will have ourown house by that time."

  The train was on the siding, nearly ready to start, and there was notmuch chance for further private conference, but Florence succeeded ingetting a few final words with Kelley.

  "I wish you would tell me what your plan is," she said. "You needn't ifyou don't want to."

  Kelley seemed embarrassed, but concluded to reply. "It is very simple,"said he. "I'm going to make him an actual partner in the mine. I'm goingto deed him an interest, so that when you come back in the spring hewon't have to lie about it."

  Her glance increased his uneasiness. "I don't understand you, Mr.Kelley. You must _love_ my brother."

  He could not quite meet her glance as he answered. "Well, I wouldn't useexactly that word," he said, slowly, "but I've taken a great notion tohim--and then, as I say, I have an old mother myself."

  The bell on the engine began to ring, and she caught his hand in both ofhers and pressed it hard. "I leave him in your hands," she said, andlooked up at him with eyes that were wet with tears, and then in a lowvoice she added: "If I dared to I'd give you a good hug--but I daren't.Good-by--and be sure and write."

  As they stood to watch the train climb the hill, Morse drew a deep sighand said: "Gee! but Flo is keen! I thought one while she was going toget my goat. I wonder what made her change her mind all of a sudden?"

  Kelley looked down at him somberly. "I did."

  "You did? How?"

  "I told her what you had really been working at."

  The boy staggered under the force of this. "Holy smoke! Did you dothat?"

  "Sure I did. It was the only way to save that dear old mother of yours.I told your sister also that I was going to stop your white-marbleexercise, and I'm going to do it if I have to break your back."

  There was no mistaking the sincerity and determination of Kelley's tone,and the young man, so far from resenting these qualities, replied,meekly: "I want to get out of it, Ed. I've been saying all day that Imust quit it. But what can I do?"

  "I'll tell you my plan," said Kelley, with decision. "You've got to buymy interest in the mine."

  Morse laughed. "But I haven't any money. I haven't three hundred dollarsin the world."

  "I'll take your note, provided your sister will indorse it, and shewill."

  The young fellow looked up at his tall friend in amazement which turnedat last into amusement. He began to chuckle. "Good Lord! I knew you'dmade a mash on Flo, but I didn't know it was mutual. I heard her say,'be sure and write.'" He slapped Kelley on the back. "There'll besomething doing when she comes back in the spring, eh?"

  Kelley remained unmoved. "There will be if she finds you rolling thatwhite marble."

  "She won't. I'll take your offer. But what will you be doing?"

  "Climbing some Alaska trail," replied Kelley, with a remote glance.

  THE PROSPECTOR

  _--still pushes his small pack-mule through the snow of glacial passes seeking the unexplored, and therefore more alluring, mountain range._