The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, July 12, 1903, Page 3

cook could be seen astir. Grant, porter on Bines car, told him the other car been taken on at Kasio Junction, and that it belonged to Rulon Shepler, the New York financler, who was aboard with & party of friends. As Percival and Uncle Peter left their ur for the shaft-house after breakfast, e occupants of the other car were be- £ themselves. From one of the open windows a low but !mpassioned voice was exhausting the current idioms of damnation in sweeping dispr of all land-areas north and west of Fifty-ninth street, New York. Uncle Peter smiled grimly. Perclv flushed, for the hidden protestant had ut tered what were his own sentiments a month before. Reaching the shaft-house they chatted with Pangburn, the superintendent, and then went to the storeroom to don blouses and overalls for a descent into the mine. For an hour they stayed underground, traversing the various levels and drifts, while Pangburn explained the later de- velopments of the vein and showed them where the new stoping had been begun. CHAPTER VL \ A MEETING AND A CLASHING } As they stepped from the cage at the surface Percival became aware of a group of strangers between him and the open door of the shaft-house—people display- ing in dress and manner the unmistak- able stamp of New York. For part of a minute, while the pupils of his eyes were contracting to the e saw them but as his sight cieared, he in the group, beaming expression of pleased he girl whose y balf a year ude with fair v s waking dreams had , their second meeting, and of the ways it n it would assuredly rvously embarrassed. was this reality that not the imagined happenings had His thoughts for the mo- then, all at once, she stood before him and he was cool, almost unmoved. He ed at once that her father was the fastidiously dressed man who looked he had been abducted from a morn- down the avenue to his club; the p! high-bred wo- surveying the West disapprovingly »ugh a lorgn would be her mother. 4 with his big and curio waited longer eye the group, than it And then cams upon her whose he awkward was reputed now the name greating. threatening to pro- “r" of excruclating sgraceful finalitv, an *r”* ated neatly by no one but el-clerks. Then miner , coming up hur- ced » took the hand so cor- because of ail the things 50 long waited to say liy! I am Miss Milbrey,” she wer tone, and then, raising “Mamma Mr. Bines—and i therg followed a hurried and cknowledged introduetion to r members of the party. And, be- that moment the young man had e edifice of a hi formless For six months he had known urpassable luxury of wanting and f knowing what he wanted. Now, all at once, he saw this to be a world in which dreams come more than true, were to go putting on outer storeroom to protect rt and damp. tly Percival found himseif again at the bottom of the shaft. During the jescent of twelve hundred feet he had re- flected upon the curfous and interesting f that her name should be Milbrey. felt @imly that this circumstance 1ld be ranked among the most inter- ng of natural phenomena—that she 14 have a name, as the run of mor- and that it should be one name more an r. When he discovered fur- hat her Christian name was Avice e phenomenon became stupeniously be- ring. wo were in the last of the party On reaching bottom he sep- er with promptness and guile two solemn young men, coples of other, and they were presently In the distance they could see the following ghostly lamps. From mysterious recesses came the muf- musical clink of the sledges on the An employe who had come down hem started to be their gulde. him back. been through; I can find my sald the man “with the n that it don’t happen something And he stayed where he was. of the cross-cuts they started, aside to let a car of ore be long to the shaft. you know,” began the girl, “I am #o0 glad 1o be able to thank you for what you did that night?” “I'm glad you are able. I was begin- ning to think I should always have those thanks owing to *“I might have pald them at the time, was all so unexpected and so sud- rattled me, quite.” thought you were headed.” “] wasn't.” “Your manner reduced me to a groom who opened your carriage door.” “But grooms don't soften pick strange ladies up bodily and bear them out of a pandemonium of waltzing cab horses. I'd never noticed before that cab horses are so frivolous and hysterical.” “And grooms know where to look for their pay.” They were interrupted nervously, and bestowing furtive side looks upon each other. “If T'd not seen you” sald the girl, “glanced at you—before—that evening, I shouldn’t have remembered so well; doubtless I'd not have recognized you to- aay.” “] adn’t know you did glance at me, horribly cool- and yet I watched you the evening. You didn't know that, did you?” She laughed. “Of course I knew it A woman has to note sucn things without letting it be seen that she sees.” “And I'd have sworn you never once so much as looked my way.” “Don’t we do it well, though?” “And in spite of all the time I gave to a study of your face I lost the detall of it. I could keep only the effect of its expres- sion and the few tones of your voice I heard. You know I took those on a record so I could make ‘em play over any time 1 wanted to listen. Do you know, that has all been very sweet to me, my help- ing you and the memory of it—so vague and sweet. “‘Aren’t others’ She halted and looked back. “No:; I'm afrald we won't lose them; come on, you can't turn back now. And you don't want to hear anything about mines; it wouldn’t be at all good for you, I'm sure. Quick, down this way, or you'll hear Pangburn telling some cne what a stope is, and think what a thing that would be to carry in your head.” “Really, a stope sounds like something that would ‘get you' in the night! I am afraid!” Half in his spirit she fled with him down a dimly lighted incline where men were working at the rocky wall with sledge and drill, There was that in his manner which compelled her quite as literally as when at their first meeting he had picked her up in his arms. As they walked single flle through the narrowing of a drift she wondered about him. He was Western, plainly. An em- ploye in he mine, probably a manager or director ‘or whatever it was they called those in authority in mines. Plain he was a man of action and a n engaged all her instinctive liking. thing in him at once coerced her fr confidence. These were the admissions she made to herself. She divined him, moreover, to be a blend of boldness and timidity. He was bold to the point of telling her things unconventionally, guiling her into remote undergr sages away from the party; yet derstood; she knew at once that he was a determined but unspofled gentleman; that under no provocation could he make a mistake. In_any situation of lone- liness she would have felt safe with him— “as with & brother"—she thought. Then, feeling her cheeks burn, s..e turned back and said: “I must tell you he was my brother— that man—that night.” He was sorry and glad all at once. The sorrow being the lesser and more conven- tional emotion, he started upon an aw! ward expression of it, w.ich she inter- rupted. ver mind saying that, thank you. Tell me something about yourself, now. I really would like to know you. What do you see and hear and do In this strange life? “There’s not much varlety,” he an- swered, wi a convincing droop of de- pression. ‘or six months I've been see- ing you and hearing you—seeing you and you; not much variety in that worth telling you about.” e her natural caution, intensified training, she feit herself thrill to the very evident sincerity of his tones, so that he had to affect mirth ‘o seem at ease. Dear, dear, what painful monotony; and how manv men have sald it since these rocks were made; and now you say it—well, i “But there's nothing new under the sun, 3 know."” *“No; not even a new ism, is there?” “Well, you s you afrald we're losing the zcuse for plagiar- long as the same old the same old way of telling it will be more or less depended upon. After a few hundred Sears of ex- periment, you know, they hit on the few- est words that tell the most, and every- body uses them because no one can im- prove them. Maybe the prehistoric cave- gentleman, who proposed to his loved one a war club just back of her had some variation of the formula s simple needs, after he'd got her and bro t her to and she said it so sudden;’ and a man can work in little variations of his own to-day. For example—" “I'm sure we'd best be returning.” “For example, 1 could say, you know, that for keeping the mind active <nd the heart working overtime the memory of you surpasses any tonic advertised in the backs of the magazines. Or, that—" think that's enough: I see you could vary tha formula, in case—" “—have varied it—.ut don't forget I prefer the original unvaried. After all, there are certain things that you can't tell in too few words. Now, vou—'" “You stubborn person. Really, I know all about myself. I asked you to tell me about yourselfll “And I began at once to tall you every- thing about myself—everything of interest which is yourself.” o see your sense of values is gone, yoor man. I shall question you. Now you are = miner, ana 1 like men of action, men who do things; I've often wondered about you, and, seriously, I'm glad to find you here doing some- thing. I remembered you kindly, with real gratitude, indeed. You didn’t seem like a New York man either, and I de- cided you weren't. Honestly, I am glad t> find you here at your work in your miner's clothes. You mustn't think we forget how to value men that work.” - On the point of saying thoughtlessly, “But I'm not working here—I own the mine,” he checked himself. Instead he began a defense of the man gho doesn't work, but who could if he had to. “For example,” he continued, “here we are at a place that you must be carried over; otherwise you'd have to wade through a foot of water or go around that long way we've come. I've rubber boots on, and so I pick you up this way—" He held her lightly on his arm and she steadied herself with 2 hand between his shoul- ders. “And staggering painfully under my burden, I wade out to the middle of this subterranean lake.” He stopped. “You see, I've learned to do things. I could pick youup from that slippery street and put you in your carriage. and I can pick you up now without wasting words about it—"" “But you're wasting time—hurry, please —and, any way, you're a miner and used to such things.” He remained standing. “But I'm not wasting time, and I'm not a miner in the sense you mean. I own this mine, and 1 suppose for the most part I'm the sort of man you seem to have got tired of: the man who doesn’t have to do anything. Even now I'm this close to work only because my grandfa- ther wanted me to look over the proper- ties my father left.” \ ‘But hurry, please, and set me down. “Not until I warn you that I'm just as apt to do things as the kind of man you thought I was. This Is twice I've picked you up now. Look out for me; next time 1 may not put you down at all.” She gave a low little laugh, denoting un. rufled serenity. She was glorying se- cretly In his strength, and she knew his THE SUNDAY CALL. boldness and timidity were still justly balanced. And there was the rather tonishing bit of news he had just given her. That needed a lot of consideration. With slow, sure-footed steps he reached the farther side of the water and put her on her feet. “There, I thought I'd reveal the dis- tressing truth about myself while I had Yyou at my mercy.” “I might have suspected, but I gave the name no thought. Bines, to be sure. You are the son of the Bines who died some months ago. I heard Mr. Shepler and my fathcr talking about some of your mining properties. Mr. Shepler thought the ‘One Girl’ was such a funny name for your father to give a mine.” Now they neared the shaft where the rest of the party seemed to awalt them. ~As they came up Percival felt himself raked by a broadside from the maternal lorgnon that left him all but disabled. The father glowered at him and asked questions in the high key we are apt to adopt in ad- dressing foreigners, in the Instinctive fal- lacy that any language can be understood by any one if it be spoken loudly enough. The mother’s manner was a crushing re- buke to the young man for his audacit The father's manner was meant to inti- mate that natives of the region in which they were then adventuring were not worthy of rebuke, save such g bukes as may be conveyed by one’s natural superiority of manner. The other members of the party, excepting Shepler, who talked with Panghurn at a little distance, took cue from the Milbreys and aggressively ignored the abductor of an only daughter. They talked over, around, and through him, as only may those mortals whom it hath pleased heaven to have born within certain areas on Manhattan Island. The young man feit ltke a soclal o 1l he caught a glance from Mi That young woman was still v, which he could understand, and highly amused, which he could not under- stand. While the temperature was at its lowest the first load ascended, including Miss Milbrey and her parents, a chatty blonde, and an uncomfortable little man who, desplte his being twelve hundred feet toward the center thereof, had thres times referred bitterly to the fact that he was “out of the world.” “I st#ll see you scon above ground, shall I not?” Miss Milbrey had asked, at which her mother shot Percival a parting volley from her rapid-fire lorgnon, while her father turned upon him a back whose sidelines were really admirabie, consid- ering his age and feeding habits. The be- havior of these people appeared to inten- sify the amusement of their child. The two solemn young men who remained continued to chat before Percival as they would have chatted before the valet of either. He began to sound the spiritual 4nguish of a pariah. Also to feel trucu- lent and, in his own phrase, “Westy With him ‘“Westy” meant that you were as good as any one else “and a shade bet- ter than a whole lot if it came to a show- down.” He was not a little mortified to find how easy it was for him to fall back upon that old cushion of provincial arro- gance. It was all right for Uncle Peter, but for himself—well, it proved that he was less finely Eastern than he had im- agined. As the cage came down for another as- cent, he let the two solemn young men go up with Shepler and Pangburn, and went to search for Uncle Pete “There, thank God, is & man!” he re- flected. the foot of CHAPTER VIL THE RAPID-FIRE LORGNON IS SPIKED. He found Uncle Peter in the crosscut, studying a bit of ore through a glass, and they went back to ascend. “Them folks,” sald the old man, “must be the kind that newspaper meant, that had done something in practical achieve- ment. I bet that girl's mother will achleve something practical with you fur cuttin’ the girl out of the bunch; she was aw- ful tormented: talked two or three times about the people in the humbler walks of life bein’ strangely something or You ain't such a humble walker son? But say, that yellow- haired woman, she aln't a bit diffident, is 2 She's a very hearty lady, I must “But dld you see Miss Milbrey?” “‘Oh, that's her name, is it, the one that her mother was €0 worried about and you? Yes, I saw her. Peart and cunnin’, but a hea fur you, son; take my steer on that. Say, she’d have your peit naliled to the barn while you was wonder- in' which way you'd jump.” “Oh, I know, I'm only a tender, teeth, ing infant,” the young man answered, with masterly satire. ““Well, now, as long’s you got that bank roll you jest look out for cupboard love— the kind that the old cat has when she comes rubbin’ up agalnst your leg and purrin’ like you was the whole thing."” The young man smiled as they went up, with youth's-godlike faith in its own suf- ficlency, albeit he smarted from the slights put upon him. At the surface a pleasant shock was in store for him. There stood the formidable Mrs. Milbrey beaming upon him. Behind her was Mr. Milbrey, the pleasing model of all a city’s refinements, awaiting the boon of a handclasp. Behind these were the uncomfortable little man, the chatty blonde, and the two solemn young men who had lately exhibited more manner than manners. Percival feit they were all regarding him now with affectionate concern. They pressed forward effusively. “So good of you, Mr. Bines, to take an interest in us—my daughter has been so anxious to see one of these fascinating mines.” *“Awfully obliged, Mr. Bines,” “Charmed, old man; deuced pally of you to stay by us down In that hole, you know.” “So clever of you to know where to find the gold—" He lost track of the speakers. Thelr speeches became one concerted effusion of affability that was music to his ears. Miss Milbrey was apart from the group. Having doffed the waterprocffs, she we now pluming herself with those fussy- looking but mysteriously potent littie pats which restore the attire and mind of women to their normal perfection and serenity. ®pon her face was still the amused look Percival had noted below. *“And, Mr. Bines, do come in with that quaint old grandfather of yours and lunch with us,” urged Mrs. Milbrey, who had as it were spiked ber lorgnon. *“Here's Mr. Shepler to second the invitation—and then we shall chat about this very interesting West.” Miss Milbrey nodded ' encouragement, seeming to chuckle inwardly. In the spacious dining compartment of the Shepler car the party was presently at lunch. “You seem so little lilke a Western man,” Mrs. Milbrey confided graciously to Per- clval on her right. “We cal'late he'll fetch out all straight, though, in a year or so,” put in Uncle, Peter, from over his chop, with guileless intent to defend his grandson from what he believed to be an attack. *Of cou a young man’s bound to get some foolish- ness into him in an Eastern college like this boy went to." Percival had flushed at the compliment to himself; also at the old man's failure to identify it as such. Mr. Milbrey caressed his glass of claret with ardent eyes and took the situation in hand with the easy confildence of a mas- ter. “The West,” sald he, affably, “has sent us some magnificent men. In truth, it's amazing to take count of the Western men among us in all the professions. They are notable, perhaps I should say, less for deliberate nicetles of style than for a cer- tain rough directness, but so adaptable is the Americancharacter that one frequent- ly does not suspect their—er—humble ori- gin.” Meaning their Western origin?’ in- quired Shepler, blandly, with secret in- tent to brew strife. “Well—er—to be sure, my dear fellow, not necessarily humble—of course—per- haps I should have sald—" *'Of course, not necessarily disgraceful, as you say, Milbrey,"” interrupted Shepley, “and they often do conceal it. Why, I know a chap in New York who was posi- tively never east of Kansas City until he was 25 or so, and yet that fellow to-day” —he lowered his voice to the pitch of im- pressiveness—'"‘has over elghty pairs of trousers and complains of the hardship every time he has to go to Boston.” “Fancy, now!” exclaimed Mrs. Drelmer, the blonde. Mr. Milbrey looked slightly puzzled, and Uncle Peterchuckled, affirm- ing mentally that Rulon Shepler must be like one of those tugboats, with most of his lines under the surface. “But, I say, you know, Shepler,” pro- tested one of the solemn y must still talk ke a banj, ““‘And gargle all his ‘r's,’ added the other, very earnestly.,“They never get over that, you know “Instead of losin' 'em entirel put In Uncle Péter, who found himself feeling what his grandson called “Westy.” *“Of course, he calls it ‘Ne' Yawk,’ and prob'ly he don’t like it in Boston because they always call ‘em ‘rawroystahs.’ ”* *“Good for the old boy!” thought Percl- val, and then, aloud: t 1s hard for the ‘West and the East to forgive each other’s dialects. The inflated ‘r’ and the smoth- ered ‘r’ never quite harmonize.” “Western money talks good stralght New York talk,”” ventured Miss Milbrey, with the air of one who had observed in her time. Shepler grinned, and the parents of the young woman resisted’ with Indifferent success thelr twin impulses to frown. ““But the service is so wretched in the West,” suggested Oldaker, the carefully dressed little man with the tired, troubled eyes, whom the world had been deprived of. “I fancy, now, there’s not a good walter this slde of New York.” “An American,” sald Percival, “never can make a good walter or a good valet. It takes a Latin, or, still better, a Bri- ton, to feel the servility required for good service of that sort. An American, now, always feils at It because he knows he is as good as you are, and he knows that you know it, and you know that he k~ows ou know it, and there you are, two mirrors of American equality face to face and re- flecting each other endlessly, and nelther is comfortable. The American is as un- comfortable at having certaln services performed for him by another American as the other is in performing them. Give him a Frenchman or an Italian or a fel- low born within the sound of Bow Bells to clean his boots and lay out his things and serve his dinner and he's all right enough.” ““Hear, hear!” cried Uncle Peter. “Fancy, now,” sald Mrs. Drelmer, “a creature in a walter's jacket having emo- tions of that sort!” “Our excellent country,” said Mr. Mil- brey, “is perhaps not yet what it will be; there is undeniably a most distressing rawness where we might expect finish. Now in Chicago,” he continued in a tone suitably hushed for the relation of occult phenomena, ““we dined with a person who served champagne with the oysters, soup, fish, and entree, and for the remainder = dinner—you may credit me or not —he proffered a claret of 1875—I need hard- ly remind you. the most delicate vintage of the latter half of the century—and it was served frappe.” There was genuine emotion in the speaker's voice. “And papa nearly swooned when our host put cracked ice and two lumps of sugar !nto his own glass —" “Avice, dear!” remonstrated the father in a tone implying that some things posi- tively must not be mentioned at table. Well, you shouldn’t expect too much of those self-made men in Chicago,” sald Shepler. If they'd only make themselves as well as they make their sausages and things,” sighed Mr. Milbrey. '‘And the self-made man will talk shop,” suggested Oldaker. “He thinks you're dy- ing to hear how he made the first thou- sand of himseif.” “Still, those Chicago chaps learn quickly enough when they settle in New York,” ventured one of the young men. “I knew a Chicago chap who lived East two vears and went back not a half bad sort,” said the other. “God help him now, though; his father made him go back to work in butcher shop or something of the sort.” “.ost thing I ever heard about Cui- cago,” sald Uncle Peter, ‘“a man from your town told me once he had to stay: in Chicago a year and, says he, ‘1 went out there a New Yorser, and I went home an American,’ he savs.” The old man completed his anecdote In tones that were slightly inflamed. “How extremely typical!” said Mrs. Mil- brey. “Truly the West is the place of unspoiled Americanism and the great un- spent forces: you are quite right, Mr. Bines.” “Think of all the unspent forces back in that silver mine,” remarked Miss Mil- brey, with a patent effort to be signifi- cant. “My perverse child delights to pose as a sordid young woman,” explained to Percival, less so, and you, Mr. Bines, T am sure, would be the last to suspect her of it. you at once those sterling qual- “Isn’t it dreadfully dark down in that sterling silver mine?” observed Miss Mil- brey, apropos of nothing, apparently, while her mother attacked a second chop that she had meant not to touch. “Here's hoping we'll soon be back in God's own country,” sald Oldaker, raising his_glass. “Hear, hear!” cried Uncle Peter, and drained his glass eagerly as they drank the toast. Whereat they all laughed and Mrs. Drelmer said, “What a dear, lively wit, for an old gentleman.” “Oldaker,” said Shepler, “has really been the worst sufferer. - uis is his first trip West."” “Beg pardon, Shepler! I was West as far as Buffalo—let me see—in 1878 or 4 Dear me! is that so?’ queried Uncle Peter. “I got East as fur as Cheyenne that same year. We nearly run into each other, didn't we?” Shepler grinned again. “Oldaker found a man from New York on the train the other day, up in one of the emigrant cars. He was a truck driver, and he looked it and talked it, but \'_:;27/ Oldaker stuck by him all the afternoon.” “Well, he’d left the old town three weeks after I had, and he’'d been born there the same year I was—in the Ninth ward—and he remembered as well as I did the day Barnum's museum burned at Broadway and Ann. I liked to hear him talk. Why, it was a treat just to hear him say Broadway and Twenty-third street, or Madison square or City Hall Park. The poor devil had consumption, too, and probably he'll never see them again. I don't know if I ehall ever have it, but I'd never leave the old town as he was doing.” “That's like Billy Brue said Uncle Peter. “Billy loves faro bank jest as this gentleman loves New York. When he gets a roll he has to play. One time he landed in Pocatello when there wa'n’t but one game In town. Billy found it and started in. A friend saw him there and called him out. ‘Blily,’ says he, ‘cash in and come out: that's a brace game. ‘Sure?” says Billy. ure,’” says the feller. *All right,’ said Bllly, ‘much obliged fur poitin’ me on.’ And he started out lookin’ fur another game. About two hours later the feiler saw Billy comin’ out of the same place and Billy owned up he'd gone back there and blowed In every cent. ‘Why, you geezer,’ says his friend, ‘didn’t I put you on that they was dealin’ brace there? ‘Sure,’ says Billy, ‘sure you did. But what could I do? It was the only game in town!" " “That New York mania is the same sort,” said Sheplér, laughing, while Mrs. Drelmer requested everybody to fancy immediately. “Your grandfather is 80 dear and quaint,” sald Mrs. Milbrey; ‘¥Jou must certainly bring him to New York with you, for of course a young man of your capacity and graces will never be satisfled cut of New York.” “Young men like yourself are assuredly needed there,” remarked Mr. Milbrey warmly. “Surely they are,” agreed Miss Milbrey, and yet with a manner that seemed al- most to annoy both parents. They were sparing ne opportunity to make the young man conscious of his real oneness with those about him, and yet subtly to inti- mate that people of just the Milbreys’ perception were required to divine it at present. “These Westerners fancy you one of themselves, I dare say,” Mrs. Milbrey had sald, and the young man purred under the strokings. His fever for the East was back upon him. His weeks with Uncle Peter going over the flelds where his father had prevalled had made him con- valescent, but these New Yorkers—the very manner and atmosphere of them— undid the work. He envied them their easler speech, their matter-of-fact air of omniscience, the elaborate and cultivated simplicity of their dress, their sureness and sufficlency in all that they thought and said and did. He was homesick again for the life he had glimpsed. The West s rude, desolate and depressing. Even Uncle Peter, whom he had come warmly to admire, jarred upon him with his crud- ity and his Western assertiveness. And there was the woman of ths East, whose presence had made the day to seem dreamlike; and she was kind, which was more than he would have dared to hope, and her people, after their first cu- rious chill of indifférence, seemed actually to be courting him. She, the fleeting and impalpable dream love, whom the thought of seeing ever again had been wildly ab- surd, was now a human creature with a local habitation, the mest beautiful name in the world, and two parents whose com- plaisance was obvious even through the lover's timidity. CHAFIER VIIL UP SKIPLAP CANYON. The meal was ending in smoke, the Women, excepting Miss Milbrey, having lighted cigarettes with the men. The k had grown less truculently sectional. The Angstead twins told of their late fishing trip to Lake St. Johs for ealmon, of projected tours to British 'Columbla for mountain sheep, and to Manitoba for elk and moose. Mr. Milbrey described with minute and loving particularity the preparation of oeufs de Faisan, avec beurre au cham- pagne. Mrs. Milbrey related an anecdote of New York society, not much in itself, but which permitted the disclosure that she habitvally addressed by their first names three of the foremost society leaders, and that each of these personages adopted a like familiarity toward her. Mrs. Drelmer declared that she meant to have Uncle Peter Bines at one of her evenings the very first time he should come to New York, and that, it/he didn’t let her know of his coming, she would be offended. . Oldaker related an incident of the ball given to the Prince of Wales, traveling as Baron Renfrew, on the evening of Oc- tober 12, 1860, in which his fatker had fig- ured briefly before the royal guest to the abiding credit of”American tact and gen- tility. Shepler was amused until he became sleepy, whereupon he extended the free- dom of his castle to his guests, and re- tired to his stateroom. Uncle Peter took a final shot at Old- aker. He was observed to be laughing, and inquiry brought this: ““l jest couldn’t help snickerin’ over his idee of God's own country. He thinks God’'s own couniry is a little strip of an island with a row of well-fed folks up and down the middle, and a lot of hungry folks on each side. Mebbe he's right. I'll be bound, it needs the love of God. But if it is his own country, it don’t make him any connysoor of countries with me. T'l tell you that.” Oldaker smiled at this assault, the well- bred, tolerant smile that loyal New Yorkers reserve for all such barbaric be- littling of their empire. Then he politely asked Uncle Peter to show Mrs. Drelmer and himself through the stamp mill At Percival's suggestion of a walk, Miss Milbrey was delighted. After an inspection of the Bines car, in which Oldakgr declared he would be will- ing to live forever, if it could be anchored firmly in Madison square, the party scp- arated. Out into the clear air, already cooling under the slanting rays of the sunm, the young man and the girl went together. Behind them lay the one street of the lit- tle mining camp, with its wooden shan- ties on either side of the railroad track. Down this street Uncle Peter had gone, leading his charges toward the busy ant hill on the mountain side. Ahead the track ‘wound up the canyon, cunningly following the tortuous course of the little river to be sure of practical grades. On the far- ther side of the river a mountain road paralleled the railway. Up this road the two went, followed by a playful admoni- tion from Mrs. Milbrey, “Remember, Mr. Bines, 1 place my child in your keeping.” Percival waxed conscientious about his charge and insisted at once upon being assured that Miss Milbrey would be warm enough with the scarlet golf cape about her shoulders; that she was used to walk- ing long distances; that her boots were stoutly soled, and that she didn’'t mind the sun {p their faces. The girl laughed at him. Looking up the canyon with its wooded sides, cool and green, they could ses a gray, dim mountain, with patches of snow near its top, in the far distance, and ranges of lesser eminences stepping up to/it. “It's a hundred miles away,” he told her. Down the canyon the little river flick- ergd toward them, like a billowy silver rifbon “trimmed with white chiffon around the rocks,” declared the girl. dn the blue depths of the sky, an im- mense height above, lolled an eagle, lazy of wing, in lordly indolence. The sugges- tions to the eye were all of spacious dis- tances and large masses—of the room and stuff for unbounded action. “Your West is the breathingest placs,” she sald, as they crossed a foot bridge over the mnoisy little stream and turned up the road. “I don't believe I ever drew a full breath until I came to these altl- tudes.” “One h: to breathe more alr here— there's less oxygen In it, and you must breathe more to get your share, and so after a while one becomes robust. Your cheeks are already glowing, and we've bardly started. There, now, there are your colors, see—" Along the edge of the green pines and spruce were lavender asters. A little way in the woods they could see the blue col-* umbines and the mountain phlox, pink and red. “There are your eyes and your cheeks.” “What a dangerous character you'd be 1f you were sent to match silks!" - On the dry, barren elopes of gravel across the river, full in the sun's glare, grew the Spanish bayonet, with its spikes of creamy white flowers. “There I am. more nearly,” she pointed to them; “they're ever so much nearer my disposition. But about this thin air; it must make men work harder for what comes easier back in our country, so that they may become able to do more—more capable. I am thinking of your grandfather. You don't know how much I admire him. He is so stanch and strong and fresh. There's more fire in hilm now than In my fathey or Launton Oldtaker, and I dare pay he's a score older than either of them. I don’t think you quite appreciate what a great old fellow he is.” “I admire Uncle Peter much more, I'm sure, than he admires me. He's afrald I'm not strong enough to admire that Eastern climate of yours—social and moral.” “I suppose it's natural for you to wish to go. You'd be bored here, would you not? You couldn’t stay in these moun- tains and be such a man as your grand- father. And yet thers ought to be so much to do here: it's all so fresh and roomy and jolly. Really, I've grown en- thusiastic about it.” “Ah, but think of what there is.In the East—and you are there. To think that for six months I've treasured every little memory of you—such a funny little lot as they were—to think that this morning I awoke thinking of you, yet hardly hoping ever to see you, and to think that for half the night we had ridden so near each other in sleep, and there was no sign or signal or good omen. And thea to think you should burst upon me like some new sunrise that the stupld astron- omers hadn’t predicted. “You see,” he went on, after & moment, “I don't ask what you think of me. You couldn’t think anything much as yet, but there's something about this whole af- fair, our meeting and all, that makes me think it's going to be symmetrical in the end. I know it won't end here. I'll tell you one way Western men learn. They learn not to be afraid to want things out of their reach, and they belleve devoutly —because they've proved it so often—that if you want a thing hard enough and keep wanting it, nothing can keep It away from you."” A bell had been tinkling mnearer and nearer on the road ahead. Now a heavy wagon, filled with sacks of ore, came into view, drawn by four mules. As they stood aside to let it pass he scanned her face for.any sign it might show, but he could see fio more than a look of interest for the brawny driver of the wagon, shouting musically to his straining team. “You are rather inscrutable,” he sald, as they resumed the road. She turned and smiled intc his eyes with utter frankness. “At least you must be sure that I like you; that I am very friendly; that I want to know you better, and want you to know me better. You don’t know me at all, you know. You Westerners have an- other way of accepting people too readily. It may work no harm among yourselves, but perhaps Easterners are a bit more perilous. Sometimes, now, a very East- ern person doesn’t even accept herself— himse..—very trustingly; she—Le—finds it so hard to get acquainted with himself.” The young map provided one of those silences of which a few discerning men are instinctively capable and for which women thank them. “This road,” she sald, after a little time of rapld walking, “leads right up to the end of the world, doesn’t 1 Bee, it ends squarely In the sun.” They stopped where the turn had opened to the west a long vista of gray and purple hills far and high. They stood on & ridge of broken quartz and gneiss, thrown up in a bygone age. To their left a tew dwarf Scotch firs threw shadows back toward the town. The ball of red fire in the west was half below the rim of the distant peak. “Stand so”—and she spoke In a slightly hushed tone that moved him a step nearer almost to touch her arm—“and feel the round little earth turning with us. We elways think the sun drops down away —————— DR. CHARLES FLESH FOOD For the Form and Complexion. Has been guccess- fully used by lead. actresses, sl nutrition feeds the ‘wasting tiesues. Removing Pimples B As if by magte, one application often showing a remarke ", able Improvement. DR, CHARLES FLESH FOOD is positivaly the only preparation known to medical eclence that will round out holiows in the neck anj produce firm, healthy flesh on thin cheeks, armg and bhands. FOR DEVELOPING THE BUAT 80! RIUM AND OTHER DEPARTMENT STORES AND DRUGGISTS. 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