CHAPTER XXIV
TWO IN A BUCKET
Jack heard the story of his rescue from India. He surprised her alone inthe breakfast room by hobbling in one morning after the rest had gone.
She popped a question directly at him. "Did the doctor say you could getup?"
"Didn't ask him," he answered with a laugh, and dropped into a seatacross the table.
Shaven and dressed in a clean freshly pressed suit, he looked adifferent man from the haggard grimy vagabond Captain Kilmeny hadbrought back with him three days earlier. The eyes were still rathersunken and the face a bit drawn, but otherwise he was his very competentand debonair self. His "Good mornin', India," was as cheery and matterof fact as if those five days of horror had never existed.
"Don't believe it will hurt you." Her bright eyes were warm in theirapproval of him. "You look a lot fitter than you did even yesterday.It's awfully jolly to see you around again, Cousin Jack."
"I'm enjoying it myself," he conceded. "Anything of importance in thatcovered dish over there?"
"Tell me all about it," she ordered, handing him the bacon. Then, with ashudder, she added: "Must have been rather awful down there."
"Bad enough," he admitted lightly.
"Tell me." She leaned forward, chin in hand.
"What's the use? Those fellows put me down. Your brother took me up.That's all."
"It isn't all. Ned says it is perfectly marvelous the way you dug thattunnel and escaped from being crushed, and then dug it again after ithad caved."
"Couldn't lie down and quit, could I? A man in the hole I was can't pickand choose." He smiled lazily at her and took a muffin from a platehanded him by the waiter. "My turn to ask questions. I want the fullstory of how you guessed I was in the west shaft of the Golden Nugget."
"Haven't you heard? It was Moya guessed it--from the tapping on thepipe, you know."
"So I've been told. Now let's have the particulars." His eyes wentarrow-straight into hers and rested there.
India told him. She knew that Ned would make a safer husband for Moyathan this forceful adventurer. It was quite likely to be on the cardsthat he cared nothing for her friend. Indeed, his desperate flirtationwith Joyce indicated as much. Moreover, Moya would not marry a man whomshe could not respect, one who made his living by dishonest practices.But in spite of all these objections Miss Kilmeny told her cousin howMoya had fought for his life against ridicule and unbelief, regardlessof what any of them might think of her.
He made one comment when she had finished. "So I have to thank MoyaDwight for my life."
"Moya alone. They laughed at her, but she wouldn't give up. I never sawanybody so stubborn. There's something splendid in her. She didn't carewhat any of us thought. The one thing in her mind was that she was goingto save you. So Mr. Bleyer had to get up from dinner and find out fromthe maps where that pipe went. He traced it to the old west shaft of theGolden Nugget."
"And what _did_ you think?" he asked, watching her steadily.
"I admired her pluck tremendously."
"Did Verinder--and Bleyer--and Lady Farquhar?"
"How do I know what they thought?" flamed the girl. "If Mr. Verinder iscad enough----" She stopped, recalling certain obligations she was underto that gentleman.
"Why did she do it?"
She flashed a look of feminine scorn at him. "You'll have to ask Moyathat--if you want to know."
He nodded his head slowly. "That's just what I'm going to do."
"You'll have more time to talk with her--now that Joyce is engaged anddaren't flirt with you," his cousin suggested maliciously.
Though he tried to carry this off with a laugh, the color mounted to hisface. "I've been several kinds of an idiot in my time."
"Don't you dare try any nonsense with Moya," her friend cried, a littlefiercely.
"No," he agreed.
"She's not Joyce."
He had an answer for that. "I'd marry her to-morrow if she'd take me."
"You mean you...?"
"Yes. From the first day I met her again. And I didn't know it till Iwas down in that hell hole. Shall I tell you something?" He put his armson the table and leaned toward her with shining eyes. "She was with medown there most of the time. Any time I stopped to listen I could hearher whisper courage in that low, sweet voice of hers."
"You know about her and Ned?"
"Yes."
"He's a better man than you are, Jack."
"Yes."
"But you won't let him have her."
"No, by God, not unless she loves him."
"She would have loved him if it hadn't been for you."
"You mean she loves me?"
"She won't marry you. She can't."
"Why not? Because I don't belong to her social set?"
"No. That would be reason enough for Joyce or me, but I don't think itwould stop Moya."
"You mean--highgrading?"
"Yes."
Joyce interrupted further confidences by making her usual lateappearance for breakfast. At sight of Kilmeny her eyes brightened. Lifealways became more interesting for her when a possible man was present.Instantly she came forward with a touch of reluctant eagerness that wasvery effective.
"I'm glad to see you up again--so glad, Mr. Kilmeny."
In the pretty breakfast gown which displayed her soft curves and theripe roundness of throat and arm she made a picture wholly charming. IfJack was overpowered he gave no sign of it.
"Glad to meet you, Miss Seldon."
Her eyes rained sweet pity on him, a tenderness potent enough to disturbthe serenity of any young man not in armor.
"We--we've been so worried about you."
He laughed, genially and without resentment. "Awfully good of you.Shall I ring for the waiter?"
India rose. "I'm going riding with Ned and Moya," she explained.
Alone with the Westerner, Joyce felt her blood begin to quicken.
"Are you quite ... recovered?" she asked.
Their eyes met. In his there was a faint cynical smile of amusement.
"Quite."
She understood the double meaning in his words. Her lashes fell to thesoft cheeks, then lifted again. "I thought perhaps there might be ...that you might still be...."
He shook his head vigorously. "It was only a dream. I can laugh at itnow--and at myself for taking it seriously."
Joyce bit her lip with vexation. There was something not quite decent inso prompt a recovery from her charms. He did not appear to hold even anyresentment.
Nor did he. Kilmeny had been brought too near the grim realities to holdany petty pique. He found this young woman still charming, but hisadmiration was tinctured with amusement. No longer did his imaginationplay upon her personality. He focused it upon the girl who had foughtfor his life against the ridicule and the suspicions of her friends. Itwas impossible for him to escape the allure of her fine sweet courageso gallantly expressed in every look and motion.
But Moya let him severely alone. Her pride was suffering because she hadshowed to all her little world too keen an interest in him. In heranxiety to repudiate any claim he might think she felt she had upon himthe girl was scornfully indifferent to his advances. Almost rudely sherejected his gratitude.
"The man does not owe me anything. Can't he see that honors are easy?"she said impatiently to Lady Farquhar.
Jack Kilmeny was no quitter. He set that lean jaw of his and would notaccept repulse. In four days now the Farquhar party was going to leaveGoldbanks and he made the most of his time.
Moya never saw him coming toward her without having her pulses stirred,but her look met his always quietly and steadily. Not once did she givehim a chance to see her alone. Even Lady Farquhar, who had been a severecritic of her vagaries, commended now her discretion. Jack rebelledagainst it in vain. He could not find a chance to speak. It wascharacteristic of him that he made one.
By shrewd maneuvering he arranged an expedition to the Silent Sam mine.The property itself was of no pa
rticular interest. The attractivefeature was a descent in ore buckets from the shaft-house, perched farup on the edge of a precipitous cliff, to the mill in the valley below.This was made by means of heavy cables to which the buckets weresuspended. After Jack had explained how the men rode back and forth bythis means between the mill and the mine India was seized with theinspiration he had hoped for.
"Let's go down in the buckets, dear people."
Lady Farquhar protested and was overruled by a chorus of votes. Theminer assured her that it was entirely safe. Reluctantly she gavepermission for her flock to make the trip if they desired.
They rode on horseback to the mill. Jack paired with India, making noattempt to ride beside Moya, who brought up the rear with the captain.The Westerner, answering the questions of his cousin, was at hisdebonair best. Occasionally there drifted back to the couple in the rearfragmentary snatches of his talk. He was telling of the time he had beena mule skinner in New Mexico, of how he had ridden mail near Deming, andof frontier days at Tombstone. Casual anecdotes were sprinkled throughhis explanations to liven them. He spoke in the slurring drawl of theSouthwest, which went so well with the brown lean face beneath thepinched-in felt hat and the well-packed vigor of the man.
"And what is 'bucking a sample'?" India wanted to know after one of hisstories.
"You just pound some rock up and mix it to get a sample. Once when I wasdrag-driver of a herd in a round-up...."
Moya heard no more. She turned her attention resolutely to her companionand tried to detach her mind from the man in front. She might as wellhave tried to keep her heart from beating.
After they had arrived at the mill Jack quietly took charge of thedisposition of the party. Verinder and Joyce were sent up in the firstbucket. When this was halfway up to the mine the cable stopped to letanother couple enter a bucket. Joyce, fifty feet up in the air, wavedher hand to those below.
"You next, India," ordered her cousin.
The young woman stepped into the bucket. "I'm 'fraid," she announcedpromptly.
"No need to be. Captain, your turn."
The eyes of the two men met. Ned Kilmeny guessed instantly that theother had arranged this so as to get a few minutes alone with Moya. Hetook a place beside his sister immediately.
The cable did not stop again until the second pair of passengers hadreached the mine.
Moya, followed by Jack, stepped into the basket, which began to risesteadily as it moved across the valley.
Kilmeny did not lose a minute.
"Why don't you let me see you alone? Why do you run away from me?" hedemanded.
Little patches of color burned beneath the shadows of her eyes. A soundas of a distant surf began to beat in her ears.
"What nonsense! Why should I run from you?" she asked, meeting withdifficulty the attack of his masterful gaze.
"Because you're afraid to let me tell you that I love you," he charged.
"Thought it was Joyce you ... fancied," she retorted quietly, her pulsehammering.
"So it was. I fancied her. I love you. I'm asking you to marry me."
"You don't have to ask me to marry you because you exaggerate theservice I did you."
"I ask you because I love you."
"Thank you very much for the compliment. Sorry I must decline." She didnot dare look at him. Her eyes were fixed on the mill far below.
"Why must you--since you love me?"
The telltale pink stained her cheeks. "You take that for granted, doyou?"
"It's true, I believe. How can I make love to you as other men do? LadyFarquhar won't let me see you alone--even if you were willing to give mea chance. In two days you are going out of my life. I must speak thetruth ... bluntly. I love you. It has been that way with me ever sinceyou came into my life again, little Moya. But I was blind and didn't seeit till ... till I was alone in the mine with death."
"I ... am sorry."
"That is not enough. I'm going to have the truth. You saved my life.What for? It is yours ... if you will take it."
She looked straight at him. "I can't marry you."
"Why can't you? Can you say that you don't love me?"
In the full-charged silence that followed a stifling emotion racedthrough her blood. The excitement in her set a pulse beating in herthroat. Womanlike, she evaded the issue.
"The cable has stopped. What has happened?"
"Nothing has happened. It has stopped because I arranged with theengineer at the hoist to have it stop. When I give the signal it willstart again."
"But...."
He brushed aside her futile protest. "I'm going to have this out withyou. Dare you tell me that you don't love me, Moya?"
He forced her to meet his eyes, and in that moment she felt weak andfaint. The throb of passion beat tumultuously against her will.
"Please ... be generous. What will they think? Let us start," shebegged.
"They will think something is wrong with the machinery. But it doesn'tmatter in the least what they think. It's my last chance, and I'll notgive it up. You've got to answer me."
The point where the bucket had stopped was a hundred feet above theground below. She looked down, and shuddered.
"It's so far down ... please."
"Then don't look down. Look at me, Moya. It won't take you a moment toanswer me."
"I have. I said I couldn't marry you."
"Tell me that you don't love me and I'll give the signal."
"I ... don't."
"Look straight at me and say it."
She tried to look at him and repeat it, but her eyes betrayed the secretshe was fighting to keep from him. The long lashes fell to the hotcheeks an instant too late.
His hand found hers. "My little Irish wild rose, all sweetness andthorns," he murmured.
Above the tumult of her heart she heard her voice say, as if it werethat of a stranger, "It's no use ... I can't ... marry you."
"Because I'm a highgrader?"
She nodded.
"Do you think I'm worse than other men? Down in the bottom of your heartdo you believe that?"
She smiled wanly. "Other men are not ... making love to me."
"Am I nothing but a thief to you?"
"I have told you that you are the man I ... love. Isn't that a gooddeal?"
The desire of her, pure as a flame, swept through him. "It's thegreatest thing that ever came into my life. Do you think I'm going tolet it end there? I'm going to fight for our happiness. I'm going tobeat down the things that come between us."
"You can't. It's too late," she cried wistfully.
"It's never too late for love so long as we're both alive."
"Not for love, but...."
"You've got to see this as I see it, sweetheart. I'm a man--primitive,if you like. I've done wild and evil things--plenty of them. What ofthat? I slough them off and trample them down. The heart of me is clean,isn't it?"
"Yes."
To look at him was enough to clear away all doubt. He had the faultsthat go with full-blooded elemental life, but at bottom this virileAmerican was sound.
"Well! Isn't that enough?"
The little movement of her hands toward him seemed to beg for pity."Jack! I can't help it. Maybe I'm a little prig, but ... mustn't weguide our lives by principle and not by impulse?"
"Do I guide mine by impulse?"
"Don't you?" She hurried on to contradict, or at least to modify, herreluctant charge. "Oh, I know you are a great influence here. You'reknown all over the state. Men follow you wherever you lead. Why should Icriticize you--I, who have done nothing all my life but lean on others?"
"Go ahead. When I ask you to marry me I invite your criticism."
"I have to take little steps and to keep in well-worn paths. I can'tmake laws for myself as you do. Those that have been made may be wrong,but I must obey them."
"Why? Why should you? If they're wrong, fight against them."
"I can't argue with you ... dear. But I know what I think right. I_want_ to think
as you do. Oh, you don't know how I long to throw myPuritan conscience overboard and just trust your judgment. I ... admireyou tremendously. But I can't give in ... I can't."
The muscles stood out on his lean cheeks as he set his teeth. "You'vegot to, Moya. Our love has been foreordained. Do you think it is fornothing that we met again after all these years? You're mine--the onewoman in the world I want and am going to have."
She shook her head sadly. "No ... no!"
"Is it the money I have made highgrading? Is that what stands betweenus? If I were able to come to you without a dollar but with cleanhands--would you marry me then?"
He leaned toward her, eager, ardent, passionate, the color in his cheeksburning to a dull brick tint beneath the tan. Body and soul she swayedtoward him. All her vital love of life, of things beautiful and good andtrue, fused in a crescendo of emotion.
"My dear ... my dear, I'm only a girl--and I love you." Somehow herhands were buried in the strong grip of his. "But ... I can't live onthe profits of what I think is wrong. If it weren't for that ... Jack,I'd marry you if you were a pauper--and thank God for the chance."
He faced her doggedly. "I'm not a pauper. I've fought for my share ofthe spoils. You've been brought up in a hot-house. Out in the world aman wins because he's strong. Do you think it's all been play with me?By God, no! I've ridden night herd in a blizzard when the temperaturewas below zero. I've done my shift on the twelfth level of the NeverQuit many a month. I've mushed in Alaska and fought against Castro inVenezuela. Do you think I'm going to give up my stake now I've won it atlast?"
She looked at him tremulously. "I don't ask you to give it up. You'llhave to decide that for yourself."
"Don't you see I _can't_ give it up? If I do, I lose you. How can I takecare of you without money?"
"I'd do my best, Jack."
"You don't understand. It would be for years--until I had made anotherstart. I wouldn't let you give up everything unless I had something tooffer. I wouldn't consider it."
"Isn't that putting pride before love, Jack? You know I have a littlemoney of my own. We could live--in very decent poverty. I would love tofeel that we were fighting ... together. We both know you'll win in theend. Wouldn't it be fine to work out your success in partnership? Dear,I'd _rather_ marry you while you're still a poor man."
For a moment the vision of it tempted him, but he put the dream away."No. It won't do. Of course I'm going to win out in the end, but itmight take a dozen years to set me on Easy street. For a woman broughtup as you have been poverty is hell."
"Then you think I'm only a doll," she flashed. "You want to put me backin that hot-house you mentioned. I'm just an ornament to dress up andlook at and play with."
"I think you're a little tinder-box," he said, smiling ruefully.
"Don't you see how it is with me, Jack? I've always craved life. I'vewanted to take hold of it with both hands and without gloves. But theywould never let me. I've got my chance now ... if you really love memore than you do your pride and your money. I want to live close to thepeople--as you do."
"What did that suit cost you?" he asked abruptly.
"Don't remember. Twenty-five pounds, maybe. Why?"
"One hundred twenty dollars, say. And you need dozens of dresses in aseason. I'll make a guess that it takes five thousand a year to clotheyou. That is nearly twice as much as I'll earn altogether next year if Ithrow away my stake."
She waved his argument aside. "Stupid boy! I have dresses enough to lastme for five years--if you'll let me be that poor man's wife. I can makethem over myself later and still be the best dressed woman in camp."
From above came Captain Kilmeny's shout. "We telephoned down. Theengineer has the trouble arranged."
The cable began to move.
"When shall I see you alone again, Moya?" Jack demanded.
"I don't know."
"I'm going to see you. We've got to fight this out. I'll not let LadyFarquhar keep me from seeing you alone. It's serious business."
"Yes," she admitted. "I'll tell Lady Jim. But ... there's no use inletting you think I'll give up. I can't."
"You've got to give up. That's all there is to it." His jaw was set likea vise.
The party above fell upon them as they landed.
"Were you frightened, Moya?" exclaimed Joyce above the chorus ofquestions.
"Just for a moment." Moya did not look at Jack. "Mr. Kilmeny told me itwould be all right."
Jack's eyes danced. "I told her we would work out of the difficulty ifshe would trust me."
Moya blushed. It happened that Captain Kilmeny was looking directly ather when his cousin spoke.
CHAPTER XXV
HOMING HEARTS
Jack Kilmeny had not been brought up in the dry sunbaked West fornothing. The winds of the Rockies had entered into his character as wellas into his physique. He was a willful man, with a good deal of granitein his make-up. A fighter from his youth, he did not find it easy toyield the point upon which he differed from Moya. There was in her somuch of impulsive generosity that he had expected to overpower herscruples. But she stood like a rock planted in the soil.
It came to him as he walked home after a long fight with her that in hisheart he did not want her to yield. She was the Moya Dwight he lovedbecause she would not compromise with her conviction. Yet, though hewanted her to stand firm, he hated the thought of giving way himself. Itgalled his pride that he must come to her without a penny, knowing thatshe had the means to keep them both modestly. Nor could he, without apang, think of surrendering the twenty-eight thousand dollars he hadfought for and won. He was no visionary. The value of money heunderstood perfectly. It stood for power, place, honor, the things thatwere worth having. Given what he had, Jack knew he could double it inGoldbanks within the year. There were legitimate opportunities forinvestment that were bound to make rich returns. But without a dollar hewould be like Samson shorn of his locks.
All through the night he was joined in battle with himself, but when atearly dawn he stood on the top of Son-of-a-Gun hill and faced a skyfaintly pink with the warning of a coming sun his decision had beenmade.
On his way back he met Moya and Miss Seldon. Joyce pounced upon him witha grievance.
"You haven't told me yet how much you're going to give for the newhospital, Mr. Kilmeny. You know we're leaving to-morrow, and you'll haveto decide at once. Be generous, please. You said yourself it was a goodcause."
He nodded agreement. "The most worthy charity I know. I've oftenwondered why some Andrew Carnegie didn't set the fashion of endowinghospitals by wholesale. They ought to be free to all poor folks out ofhealth. When a man is losing his wages and his family is scrimping heought not to be facing a thirty-dollar-a-week hospital charge. Yes, I'mfor the new hospital, Miss Seldon."
"How strong are you for it?" Joyce asked, laughing at her newly acquiredAmerican slang. "Mr. Verinder has promised to give me two dollars forevery one I can raise among my other friends. So don't be a--a----"
"A tightwad," supplied Moya with a smile. She could do a little in thenative slang herself.
Jack went into his pocket for a checkbook and a fountain pen. He wrotefor a few seconds, tore the check from the stub, and handed it to Joyce.
That young woman gasped.
"Why--you don't really mean--it's for twenty-eight thousand two hundredand fourteen dollars," she cried.
"And seventeen cents. Please don't forget that," he added.
"But--what on earth do you mean?"
Jack was looking at Moya, and she at him with shining eyes in which joyswam.
"It's a little thank offering, Miss Seldon."
"Because you were rescued from the mine, I suppose. Still...."
"Because I'm engaged to be married to the best woman in the world," hecorrected.
Joyce whirled upon Moya with instant divination. "You little wretch, andyou never told me."
If Miss Dwight had not known it herself till this moment she gave nosign to that effect. "We're tellin
g you now, dear," she explained.
"How long have you been engaged? Was it yesterday in the bucket?"
Jack laughed. "Nothing so romantic. We've been engaged a little lessthan half a minute. You get the first chance to wish Moya joy on havingwon so great a catch. She's marrying a pauper, you know."
"I think we're very rich," differed his sweetheart shyly.
Joyce looked from one to the other suspiciously. "I haven't a notionwhat either of you mean, but I know I'm going to hang on to this check,Mr. Millionaire Pauper."
Imps of mischief sparkled in the highgrader's eyes. "Don't forget thatVerinder has to write one for twice as much."
Miss Seldon could not help laughing. "I'll see to that. He's not awelcher, but ... I wonder how he'll look when I tell him."
"You ought to tell him as soon as you can," Jack hinted boldly.
"Oh, ought I? Did you say you had been engaged less than a minute, Mr.Kilmeny? How much will you give me to go down now and tell him?"
"I've nothing left to give--except my gratitude."
"You're the first man who ever was so ungallant as to tell me he wouldbe grateful to have me leave him."
"I'm the first who ever proposed to another girl in your presence. Thecircumstance is unusual," he flung back gayly.
"I didn't hear you propose. All you did was to announce it," she repliedsaucily.
"That's true too," admitted Kilmeny. "Well, I'm going to propose now ifit isn't too late. You may stay if you like."
"Thanks, no." Joyce kissed her friend. "I hope you'll be very happy,dear. I ... I believe you will."
Moya choked on her words. "I know I shall, Joy."
Miss Seldon looked at Jack with an expression in which embarrassment andaudacity were blended. "I've always rather liked your pauper," sheconfided aloud to Moya.
Her confidences had their limits. She omitted to mention what had justpopped into her mind, that within the fortnight he had proposed to hertoo on the same spot.
Jack bowed with exaggerated deference when she shook hands with him. Hewas just now riding the seventh wave of happiness and felt friendly tothe whole world.
"Thanks very much. You're a good scout, Joyce."
"Good gracious! What may that be? Some more of your American slang, Isuppose." She broke away from persiflage to add seriously: "You'reright about one thing, though. You've got the best girl in the world. Begood to her, Jack Kilmeny."
With that she turned and walked down the hill.
The other two walked up.
"I'm so proud of you, Jack, boy," whispered one of them.
He laughed happily. "I'm proud of myself. I've done the best day's workI ever did for myself when I won Moya Dwight."
"You know what I mean, Jack. What other man would have thrown away asmall fortune--all he had--just for me?"
"I can name one other," suggested Kilmeny.
"Ned! But he's a saint."
"And I'm a sinner," her lover replied blithely.
"You're the sinner I love, then."
They had reached a clump of firs. Without knowing how it happened shefound herself in his arms. There were both tears and laughter in hereyes as her lips turned slowly to meet his.
"The first time since we were kiddies on the _Victorian_, sweetheart,"he told her.
"Yes, it's true. I loved you then. I love you now.... Jack, boy, I'mjust the happiest girl alive."
A mist-like veil of old rose hung above the mountain tops. Hand in handthey watched the rising sun pierce through it and flood the crotches ofthe hills with God's splendid canvases. It was a part of love's egoismthat all this glory of the young day seemed an accompaniment to the songof joy that pulsed through them.
Later they came to earth and babbled the nonsense that is the highestwisdom of lovers. They built air castles and lived in them, seeing lifethrough a poetic ambient as a long summer day in which they should rideand work and play together.
At last she remembered Lady Farquhar and began to laugh.
"We must go down and tell her at once, Jack."
He agreed. "Yes, let's go back and have it out. If you like you may goto your room and I'll tackle her alone."
"I'd rather go with you."
He delighted in her answer.
Farquhar was taking an early morning stroll, arm in arm with Lady Jim,when he caught sight of them.
"Look, Di!"
Both of the lovers knew how to walk. Lady Farquhar, watching them,thought she had never seen as fine a pair of untamed human beings. Inhis step was the fine free swing of the hillman, and the young womanbreasted the slope lightly as a faun.
The Englishman chuckled. "You're beaten, Di. The highwayman wins."
"Nonsense," she retorted sharply, but with anxiety manifest in herfrown.
"Fact, just the same. He's coming to tell us he means to take our littlegirl to his robber den."
"I believe you'd actually let him," she said scornfully.
"Even you can't stop him. It's written in the books. Not sure I'dinterfere if I could. For a middle-aged Pharisee with the gout I'mincurably romantic. It's the child's one great chance for happiness. ButI wish to the deuce he wasn't a highgrader."
"She shan't sacrifice herself if I can prevent it," Lady Farquharinsisted stanchly.
"I 'member a girl who sacrificed herself for a line lieutenant without ashilling to call his own," he soliloquized aloud. "Would have him, anddid, by Jove! Three deaths made him Lord Farquhar later, but she marriedthe penniless subaltern."
"I've always been glad I did." She squeezed his arm fondly. "But this isdifferent, James."
Kilmeny and Moya stopped. The young man doffed his gray felt hat andbowed.
"Mornin', Lady Farquhar--Lord Farquhar. We've come to ask yourpermission for our marriage."
"Mornin', rebels. Fancy I'll have to refuse it," cut back Farquhar, eyestwinkling. For this bold directness pleased and amused him.
"That would distress us extremely," answered Kilmeny with a genialsmile.
"But would not affect your plans, I understand you to mean."
"You catch the idea exactly, sir."
Lady Farquhar entered the conversation. "Are you planning to go toprison with him, Moya, when he is convicted of highgrading?" she askedpleasantly.
Moya told in three sentences of what her lover had done. The Englishmanwrung Kilmeny's hand cordially.
"By Jove, you reform thoroughly when you go about it. Don't think I'dhave enjoyed writing that check for Miss Joyce. Leaves you strapped,does it?"
"Dead broke," came the very cheerful reply.
"But of course Moya has some money," said Lady Farquhar quietly.
The Westerner winced. "Wish she hadn't. It's the only thing I have toforgive her."
Farquhar lifted his eyebrows. "Di," he remonstrated.
His wife came to time with a frank apology. "That was downright nasty ofme, Mr. Kilmeny. I withdraw it. None the less, I think Moya would bethrowing herself away. Do you realize what you are proposing? She's beenused to the best ever since she was born. Have you the means to supplyher needs? Or are you considering a Phyllida and Corydon idyll in acottage?"
"It will have to be something of that sort at first. I've told her allthis too, Lady Farquhar."
"What does that matter if we love each other?" Moya asked.
"You'll find it matters a good deal," said Lady Jim dryly. "When povertycomes in love is likely to wink out any day. Of course I realize thatyours is of a quality quite unusual. It always is, my dear. Every loverhas thought that since time began."
"We'll have to take our fighting chance of that," Jack replied.
Moya, her eyes shining, nodded agreement. No great gain can be wonwithout risk. She knew there was a chance that she might not findhappiness in her love. But where it called her she must follow--to alarger life certainly, to joy and to sorrow, to the fuller experiencesthat must come to every woman who fulfills her destiny.
A voice hailed Jack. Colter was hurrying up the street, plainl
y excited.Kilmeny moved a few steps toward him.
Lady Jim took advantage of his absence to attack Moya from anotherangle. "My dear, I wish I could show you how much depends on asimilarity of tastes, of habits, of standards. Matrimony means more thanlove. It means adjustment."
"I've thought of that too. But ... when you love enough that doesn'thelp the adjustment?" asked the girl naively.
She had appealed to Farquhar. That gentleman came to her assistance. "Itdoes."
"This isn't a matter to be decided merely by personal preference," urgedthe older woman. "There may be--consequences."
The color beat into the face of the young woman in a wave, but her eyesheld steadily to those of Lady Farquhar.
"I ... hope so."
"Bravo, Moya!" applauded her guardian, clapping his hands softly.
"Don't you think they--the consequences--deserve a better chance thanyou will give them?"
"I'll answer that, Di," spoke up Farquhar. "When a girl chooses for thefather of her children a man who is clean and strong and virile, and ontop of that her lover, she is giving them the best possible chance inlife."
Moya's gratitude shone through the eyes that met those of her guardian.
Kilmeny swung back to the group he had left. "I've good news, friends.This is my lucky day. You remember that when I was rescued from theGolden Nugget my pockets were full of ore samples I had picked up as Iwas tunneling."
"Yes ... picked them up while you were delirious, didn't you?" Farquharreplied.
"Must have, I reckon. Well, you know how miners are always having piecesof quartz assayed. Colter took these to the man we employ. He's justlearned that it is high-grade stuff."
"You've made a strike?"
"Looks like it. Colter wasn't taking any chances, anyhow. He hiked rightaround to the owners of the mine and signed up a five-year lease in hisname and mine."
Farquhar shook hands with him cordially. "Hope you make a fortune,Kilmeny."
Moya's chaperon, facing the inevitable, capitulated as graceful as shecould. After all, the girl might have done worse. The man she had chosenwas well born, good looking, forceful, and a leader in his community. Ifthis fortunate strike was going to leave him well off, clearly she mustmake the best of him.
"You're a lucky man. I hope you know you don't deserve a girl likeMoya," she told him as she shook hands.
"I know it, all right. Can you tell me who does?" he flung back, with agay insouciant smile.
At that moment Ned Kilmeny stepped out upon the hotel porch. Lady Jimnodded toward him.
"Perhaps," his cousin conceded. "But in this little old world a mandoesn't get what he deserves."
"I see he doesn't. Ned is a better man than you."
"Yes," he admitted.
Captain Kilmeny, coming down the porch steps, saw in a flash what hadhappened. He came forward with the even stride and impassive face thatseldom deserted him. In two sentences Lady Farquhar told him the facts.
"You lucky dog," he said to his cousin as their hands gripped.
Jack had never liked him better than in this moment when he was givingup so cheerfully the thing he wanted most in the world.
"It isn't always the best man that wins, captain. I take off my hat tothe better men who have tried and failed. Perhaps it may be a comfort tothem to know that I'm the man that needs her most."
The captain turned to Moya. "So you've found that good hunting already,"he said to her in a low voice.
"Yes, I think I have ... I'm sure of it, Ned." Her eyes were full oftender sympathy for him. She wished she could tell him how much sheadmired his fine spirit.
"God keep you happy," he said wistfully.
Jack joined them and slipped Moya's arm into his. "Amen to that,captain. And since Jack Kilmeny has been appointed deputy on the job I'mgoing to see your wish comes true."
Moya looked at her lover and smiled.
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Nine Splendid Novels byWILLIAM MacLEOD RAINE
THE PIRATE OF PANAMA
A tale of old-time pirates and of modern love, hate and adventure. The scene is laid in San Francisco on board _The Argus_ and in Panama. A romantic search for the lost pirate gold. An absorbing love-story runs through the book.
_12mo, Cloth, Jacket in Colors. Net $1.25._
THE VISION SPLENDID
A powerful story in which a man of big ideas and fine ideals wars against graft and corruption. A most satisfactory love affair terminates the story.
_12mo, Cloth, Illustrated. Net $1.25._
CROOKED TRAILS AND STRAIGHT
A story of Arizona; of swift-riding men and daring outlaws; of a bitter feud between cattle-men and sheep-herders. The heroine is a most unusual woman and her love-story reaches a culmination that is fittingly characteristic of the great free West.
_12mo, Cloth, Illustrated. Popular Edition 50 cents._
BRAND BLOTTERS
A story of the Cattle Range. This story brings out the turbid life of the frontier with all its engaging dash and vigor with a charming love interest running through its 320 pages.
_12mo, Cloth, Illustrated. Jacket in Colors. Popular Edition 50 cents._
"MAVERICKS"
A tale of the western frontier, where the "rustler," whose depredations are so keenly resented by the early settlers of the range, abounds. One of the sweetest love stories ever told.
_12mo, Cloth, Illustrated. Popular Edition, 50 cents._
A TEXAS RANGER
How a member of the most dauntless border police force carried law into the mesquit, saved the life of an innocent man after a series of thrilling adventures, followed a fugitive to Wyoming, and then passed through deadly peril to ultimate happiness.
_12mo, Cloth, Illustrated. Popular Edition, 50 cents._
WYOMING
In this vivid story of the outdoor West the author has captured the breezy charm of "cattleland," and brings out the turbid life of the frontier with all its engaging dash and vigor.
_12mo, Cloth, Illustrated. Popular Edition, 50 cents._
RIDGWAY OF MONTANA
The scene is laid in the mining centers of Montana, where politics and mining industries are the religion of the country. The political contest, the love scene, and the fine character drawing give this story great strength and charm.
_12mo, Cloth, Illustrated. Popular Edition, 50 cents._
BUCKY O'CONNOR
Every chapter teems with wholesome, stirring adventures, replete with the dashing spirit of the border, told with dramatic dash and absorbing fascination of style and plot.
_12mo, Cloth, Illustrated. Popular Edition, 50 cents._
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THREE SPLENDID BOOKS BY ALFRED HENRY LEWIS
FARO NELL AND HER FRIENDS
A new story of "Wolfville" days--the best of all. It pictures the fine comradeship, broad understanding and simple loyalty of Faro Nell to her friends. Here we meet again Old Monte, Dave Tutt, Cynthiana, Pet-Named Original Sin, Dead Shot Baker, Doc Peets, Old Man Enright, Dan Boggs, Texas and Black Jack, the rough-actioned, good-hearted men and women who helped to make this author famous as a teller of tales of Western frontier life.
_12mo. Cloth. Illustrated. Popular Edition. 50 Cents_
THE APACHES OF NEW YORK
A truthful account of actual happenings in the underworld of vice and crime in the metropolis, that gives an appalling insight into the life of the New York criminal. It contains intimate, inside information concerning the gang fights and the gang tyranny that has since startled the entire world. The book embraces twelve stories of grim, dark facts secured directly from the lips of the police and the gangsters themselves.
_12mo. Cloth. Illustrated. Popular Edition. 50 Cents_
THE STORY OF PAUL JONES
A wonderful historical romance. A story of the boyhood and later life of that daring and intrepid sailor whose remains are now in America. Thousands and tens of thousands have read it and admired it. Many consider it one of the best books Mr. Lewis has produced.
_12mo. Cloth. Illustrated. Popular Edition. 50 Cents_
G. W. DILLINGHAM COMPANYPublishers New York
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BOOKS BY EDWARD MARSHALL
BAT--An Idyl of New York
"The heroine has all the charm of Thackeray's Marchioness in New York surroundings."--_New York Sun_. "It would be hard to find a more charming, cheerful story."--_New York Times_. "Altogether delightful."--_Buffalo Express_. "The comedy is delicious."-- _Sacramento Union_. "It is as wholesome and fresh as the breath of springtime."--_New Orleans Picayune_. 12mo, cloth. Illustrated. $1.00 net.
THE MIDDLE WALL
_The Albany Times-Union_ says of this story of the South African diamond mines and adventures in London, on the sea and in America: "As a story teller Mr. Marshall cannot be improved upon, and whether one is looking for humor, philosophy, pathos, wit, excitement, adventure or love, he will find what he seeks, aplenty, in this capital tale." 12mo, cloth. Illustrated. 50 cents.
_BOOKS NOVELIZED FROM GREAT PLAYS_
THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE
From the successful play of EDGAR JAMES. Embodying a wonderful message to both husbands and wives, it tells how a determined man, of dominating personality and iron will, leaves a faithful wife for another woman. 12mo, cloth. Illustrated from scenes in the play. Net $1.25.
THE WRITING ON THE WALL
_The Rocky Mountain News_: "This novelization of OLGA NETHERSOLE'S play tells of Trinity Church and its tenements. It is a powerful, vital novel." 12mo, cloth. Illustrated. 50 cents.
THE OLD FLUTE PLAYER
Based on CHARLES T. DAZEY'S play, this story won the friendship of the country very quickly. The _Albany Times-Union_: "Charming enough to become a classic." 12mo, cloth. Illustrated 50 cents.
THE FAMILY
Of this book (founded on the play by ROBERT HOBART DAVIS), _The Portland (Oregon) Journal_ said: "Nothing more powerful has recently been put between the covers of a book." 12mo, cloth. Illustrated. 50 cents.
THE SPENDTHRIFT
_The Logansport (Ind.) Journal_: "A tense story founded on PORTER EMERSON BROWNE'S play, is full of tremendous situations, and preaches a great sermon." 12mo, cloth bound, with six illustrations from scenes in the play, 50 cents.
IN OLD KENTUCKY
Based upon CHARLES T. DAZEY'S well-known play, which has been listened to with thrilling interest by over seven million people. "A new and powerful novel, fascinating in its rapid action. Its teaching story is told more elaborately and even more absorbingly than it was upon the stage."--_Nashville American_, 12mo, cloth. Illustrated. 50 cents.
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ALBERT ROSS' ROMANCES
A NEW EDITION AT A POPULAR PRICE
Albert Ross is a brilliant and wonderfully successful writer whose bookshave sold far into the millions. Primarily his novels deal with thesex-problem, but he depicts vice with an artistic touch and never makesit unduly attractive. Gifted with a fine dramatic instinct, hischaracters become living, moving human beings full of the fire andpassion of loving just as they are in real life. His stories contain allthe elements that will continue to keep him at the head of Americannovelists in the number of his admirers.
Mr. Ross is to be congratulated on the strength as well as the purity ofhis work. It shows that he is not obliged to confine his pen to anysingle theme, and that he has a good a right to be called the "AmericanEugene Sue" or the "American Zola."
_12mo, cloth. Price per volume, 50 cents._
Black Adonis, A Original Sinner, An Garston Bigamy, The Out of Wedlock Her Husband's Friend Speaking of Ellen His Foster Sister Stranger than Fiction His Private Character Sugar Princess, A In Stella's Shadow That Gay Deceiver Love at Seventy Their Marriage Bond Love Gone Astray Thou Shalt Not Moulding a Maiden Thy Neighbor's Wife Naked Truth, The Why I'm Single New Sensation, A Young Fawcett's Mabel Young Miss Giddy
G. W. DILLINGHAM CO.Publishers New York
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"THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY" is a condensed textbook of the technicalknowledge necessary for the preparation and sale of motion picturescenarios. More than 35,000 photoplays are produced annually in theUnited States. The work of staff-writers is insufficient. Free-lancewriters have greater opportunities than ever before, for the producingcompanies can not secure enough good comedies and dramas for theirneeds. The first edition of this book met with unusual success. Itsauthor, now the Director General of Productions for the Beaux Arts FilmCorporation, is the highest paid scenario writer in the world, as wellas being a successful producing manager. Among his successes were thescenarios for the spectacular productions: "Robin Hood," "The SquawMan," "The Banker's Daughter," "The Fire King," "Checkers," "The Curseof Cocaine" and "The Kentucky Derby."
WHAT THOSE WHO KNOW HAVE SAID:
"In my opinion, based upon six years' experience producing motionpictures, Mr. Eustace Hale Ball is the most capable scenario writer inthe business to-day." (Signed) W. F. Haddock, Producing Director withEdison, Eclair, All Star, and now President, Mirror Film Corporation.
"Mr. Ball has thoroughly grasped present day and future possibilities ofthe Moving Picture business with relation to the opportunities for realgood work by scenario writers." (Signed) P. Kimberley, ManagingDirector, Imperial Film Company, Ltd., London, England.
"To those who wish to earn some of the money which the moving picturefolk disburse, Eustace Hale Ball proffers expert and valuable advice."_New York Times Review of Books_.
"Ball's Art of the Photoplay puts into concrete form, with expertsimplicity, the secrets of writing photoplays which appeal to themillions of Americans who attend the theatres and the producers can notbuy enough of such plays to satisfy the exhibitors." (Signed) Robert LeeMacnabb, National Vice-President, Motion Picture Exhibitor's League ofAmerica.
"You have succeeded in producing a clear and helpful exposition of thesubject." (Signed) Wm. R. Kane, Editor of "The Editor Magazine."
_12 mo. Cloth bound, $1.00 Net._
G. W. DILLINGHAM CO., Publishers NEW YORK
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By MRS. GEORGE SHELDON DOWNS
KATHERINE'S SHEAVES
A Great Novel With a Great Purpose
Katherine's Sheaves is altogether delightful, a charming piece of fiction, a beautiful romance. One must admire the book for its characterization, its brilliant pictures of life, and its dramatic situations, but still more for its philosophy and wisdom.
The story is a dramatic one, abounding in strong situations.
The plot is well conceived and carried out, the style easy and the characters likable.
_12mo, Cloth, Illustrated. Popular Edition, 50 cents._
STEP BY STEP
Judged as a story pure and simple, "STEP BY STEP" is altogether delightful. But it is not merely a charming piece of fiction. Ethical in its nature, the underlying thought shows throughout the lofty purpose and high ideals of the author, and exhales a wholesome atmosphere, while the element of romance pervading it is both elevated and enriched by its purity and simplicity.
_12mo, Cloth, Illustrated. Popular Edition
, 50 cents._
GERTRUDE ELLIOT'S CRUCIBLE
It is a readable story, clean, wholesome, and high in moral tone--optimistic and constructive.
It has an alluring plot, and is well and skillfully worked out. The incidents are dramatic, and therefore always striking, and the entire romance will hold the attention of the reader.
_12mo, Cloth Bound, Illustrated. Popular Edition, 50 cents._
REDEEMED
Dealing with divorce--the most vital problem in the world to-day--this book tells how a pure-minded woman is divorced from her husband, upon a flimsy pretext, because he wishes to marry again. How he suffers when he learns that he has thrown away the true disinterested love of a noble woman, and how he craves that love again, makes a vivid, forceful story of an intensely modern significance.
_12mo, Cloth, Illustrated. Popular Edition, 50 cents._
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POPULAR MYSTERY DETECTIVE STORIES BY FERGUS HUME
The very name of Fergus Hume means mystery and excitement, and hisdetective stories show that he is a past-master in the art of creatingthrills and unusual situations, of baffling and elusive intricacy.Lovers of mystery stories welcome each announcement of a new book bythis author, who is widely known on both sides of the Atlantic.
Claude Duval of '95 Peacock of Jewels, The Coin of Edward VII, A Rainbow Feather, The Disappearing Eye, The Red Money Green Mummy, The Red Window, The Lost Parchment, The Sacred Herb, The Mandarin's Fan, The Sealed Message, The Mystery of a Hansom Cab, The Secret Passage, The Mystery Queen, The Solitary Farm, The Opal Serpent, The Steel Crown, The Pagan's Cup, The Yellow Holly, The
_12mo, Cloth; Popular Edition; Per volume, 50 cents_
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