The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, March 4, 1906, Page 4

THE SAN FRANCISCO SUNDAY CALL. I give him. You read him: any more.” The colonel's hand on his chest forcing him back against the doorpost cut short his words: “When did she go? How long ago? An- swer honestly, or, by God, I'll kill you!” His face added to the man’s terror, but it also steadied his shaking nerves: “She go not one hour; thlee-quarters. She come o me with bag and say, ‘Good- by, Sing, I go for long time.’ She give me the letter and say give him to you Tues- Wednesday. Then she go.” Which way? I don’t see. I don’t look. I go down- stairs. I go sleep on my bed. I hear bell and wake. That's all” The colonel released him and turned to the door. The man evidently knew no more than he said. She had been gone less than an hour. That was al Ithere was to tell. As he ran down the long stairs he had no definite idea In his mind. She had left run away with Jerry three-quarters of an hour earller. That was all he thought of for the moment. Then the frosty sharpness of the night air began to act with tonic force upon him. His brain cleared and he remembered Rion's words. Half an hour ago Barclay was still in the mine. There had evidently been some delay in his coming up. No trains left the town as late es that. June had gone somewhere to meet him, to some place of rendezvous whence they would probably drive into Reno. If Barclay had not yet left the mine he could be caught, and then— With wild speed he ran along the streets, leaping down the short flight of steps that broke the ascending sidewalks. He thrust people aside and rushed on, ay-faced and fiery-eyed. For the sec- 1 time in his life there was murder in his heart. rough the darkness of h of her passed like ic lantern. A sudd day long ago at the I'no savvy ind mem- des across a picture of her g, when she etached on the v her inn that possessed him rose He could not have only on. tea a smaller thoroug t to where the dark mass stood out against 1 the distant hum of 1 cted and It was like the shift came up and was packed solid ence hea: and then roar of mer of men poured into the night, ticulating, shouting, congesting in bl groups, whence a broken clamor of voices rose. He realized the strangeness of it, that something was the matter, but it was all dim and of no importance to him His mind held only one thought. Rushing It them he cried: “Barclay! Is Barcla know where Barclay An Irishman, who stumbled against him in the dark, paused long enough to shout to him: “It's Barclay colonel; they'll It's a doctor T'm after. he is where they say life in him now.” p yet? Do you that's hurt. Hurry up, be wanting you inside. God knows, if he is, there's no CHAPTER VIIL The Aroused Lion. Black Dan, as he walked to the office that Friday morning, had been giving serious thought to the situation of his son-in-law. Mercedes had not spent the summer in Virginia as her father h;\'d hoped and expected. When he saw her in San Francisco, &8s he did every few weeks, she talked of her delicate throat and ex- pressed a fear of the ciimate. It was evident that she could not or would not live there. That his daughter loved her husband Black’ Dan had no doubt. And as he walked to the mine that morning he was pondering a scheme he had lately been considering of sending Jerry to Ban Fran- cisco, to be placed in charge of his large property interests. Though he regarded his son-in-law with contemptuous dislike, he could not deny that the young man had worked hard and faithfully all sum- mer. Moreover, the stealthy watch kept upon him had revealed no irregularities in his conduct. In a place and at a time when men led wild lives with wilder as: ciates, Jerry’s behavior had been exe plary. His life had been given to work and business; women had no place in it. With these thoughts in his mind Black Dan entered the office and paused by his son-in-law’'s desk. As he stood there a boy walked in and handed the young man a small gray envelope that bore a superscription in a delicate feminine hand. Black Dan also saw that Jerry, under his ih- shakable sang-froid, was disconcerted. That the receipt of the letter was dis- turbing to its recipient was as plain to the older man as that the letter was from a woman. He passed on to his own office with his mind in an entirely different condi- tion from what it had been when he entered the building. After all their watchfulness, was Jerry playing at his old game? The thought made Black Dan breathe curses into his beard. He eaw Rion, himself and the colonel out- witted, and Jerry laughing at them in his sleeve. And deeper than this went the enraging thought of Mercedes sup- planted by one of the women that flourish in mining camps, birds of prey that batten on the passions of men. He had work to do, however, and, for today, at least, would have to put the matter out of his mind. Time enough when the Basterners were gone. Black Dan, llke many men of his dey and kind, was particularly anxious to impress the Easterners, and to make their three days’ stay In the town a revel of barbaric luxury. The dinner he was to give them that even- ing was to be a feast of unrivaled eplendor, every course ordered from San Francisco, the wine as choice as any to be bought In the country, the china, glass and sllver imported at ex- travagant cost from the greatest fac- tories of Europe, the cigars of a costly rarity, a brand especially serk from Havana for the bonanza king and his associates. Now from among the specimens of ore that stood along the top of his desk he selected one of unusual form and value to give to the most distin- guished of the strangers. It was a small square of blackish mineral on which a fine, wirelike formation of na- tive silver had coiled itself into a shape that resembled 2 rose. It had the appearance of a cunning plece of the silversmith’s art, a flower of silver wire delicately poised on a tiny frag- ment of quartz rock, Thrusting it into his coat pocket, he left the office, on his way out passing Jerry, who was bending studiously over his Gesk. He walked rapidly up through the town, to the same livery stable to which his son-in-law had already paid a visit. One of the diversions to which the visitors were treated was the drive along the mountain road to Washoe Lake, This, Black Dan had arranged, would be the emtertainment for the following morning. He with his own Kentucky thoroughbreds would drive the men, while the women of the party would follow in & hired trap, drawn by the horses Jerry had ordered, and driven by the expert whip of the sta- ble, known as Spanish George. Such a division of the party suited Black Dan admirably, for he disliked women, shunning their society, and when forced into it, becoming more somber and taciturn than ever. His plan, however, received an unex- pected check. He was told that the horses were engaged by Mr. Barclay for that evening. Frowning and an- noyed, he demanded why that should prevent him from having them the next morning, and received the information that Mr. Barclay was to drive into Reno that night with them, sending them back in the morning, when they would be too tired by the twenty-one miles over the grade to go out again immediately. Black Dan stood in the doorway of the stable looking with attentive eyes at his informant. As the man ampli- fled his explanation with excuses, the bonanza king said nothing. For the moment his own thoughts were too en- grossing to permit of words. A puppy that was playing near by in the sun- light trotted toward him and bit play- fully at his toe. He turned it over with his foot, following its charmingly awkward gambols with a pondering gaze “Then 1 suppose I can’t have Spanish George, either?” he said. “Mr. Barclay'll take him in to drive the horses back, and he'll take his time about it.” b an have Spanish George . d the stableman, relieved could give his powerful patron something he wanted. “Mr. Barclay's driving some one in with him. He'll have 1e of the Reno men bring the looked up, his broad, dark eves charged with almost fierce atten- tion “Who's he driving in?” he asked. “Don't know, sir. He didn’t say. All said s that he couldn't take a driver, as he had some one with him and he'd send the team back in the morning with a man from Reno.” The other looked down at the puppy, rolling it gently back and forth with his large foot 3 2 “When did you say he was going?” he asked. “Six-thirty. alr, : pointed backward with his thumb toward the small, partitioned-off box called the office. But Black Dan did not seem particularly interested in the va- lises. “Well,” he said, taking his foot off the puppy and pushing it carefully “send along the best vou have nish George to drive. Be at > International at 11 sharp. I don't want to start later than that” He left the stable and walked slowly toward the Cresta Plata. Hi were downcast, his e set in lines of absorbed thought. Whom was Jerry driving into Reno that night?” As he walked he pieced together what he had just heard with what he knew already. One hour before the dinner to the Easterners—at which he was expected—Jerry had arranged to leave the town, driving into Renq with some companion. The companion and the gray note instantly connected themselves in Black Dan’s mind. He felt as certain as a man could be with- out absolute confirmation that Jerry was driving in with a woman. The daring insolence of it made the blood, which moved slowly in the morose and powerful man, rise to his head. Could it be possible that Jerry, on the way to see his wife, was going to stop over no with some woman of the Vir- down the street ginia Black Dan's swarthy skin was slightly flushed when he reached the office. He eald nothing to Jerry as he passed his desk. In his own private office he sat € staring in front of him at the geo- logical map hanging on the wall. He was slow to wrath, but his wrath, like his love, once roused was of a primitive in- tensity. As he sat staring at the map his anger gathered and grew. At 4 o’clock the Eastern party and their guides were due to meet in the hoisting works for their excursion’down the mine. It was nearly a half-hour later, however, when the two ladies, who made up the feminine portion of the party, slunk out of the spacious dressing-rooms, giggling and blushing in their male attire. Jerry, Marsden, the foreman, and one of the shift bosses were lounging about the mouth of the shaft waiting for them. There were greetings and laughter, the women hugging themselves close in the long overcoats they wore against the chill of the downward passage, and pulling over their hair the shapeless cloth caps they had been given for their headgear. Through the wide opening that led to the dumps the figure of Black Dan, dark against the brilliance of the afternoon, could be seen walking on the car tracks with the rest of the party. In the muddy overalis, long boots and soft felt hat which was the regular underground dress of the men, he presented the appearance of some black-browed, heavily bearded pirate in the garb of a tramp. As the cage slid up to the shaft mouth he en- tered the building, gave the embarrassed women an encouraging nod and selected a lantern from a collection of them stand- ing in a corner. e With little cries of apprehension the women stepped on the flat square of floor- ing, their three escorts ranged closely round them, the signal to descend was glven and the cage dropped quickly out of sight Into the steaming depths. Black Dan, Barney Sullivan and the strangers were to descend on the cage In the next compartment, and while they wailted for it to come up, stood talking of the forma- tions of the mineral, how it had been found and of the varying richness of the ore bodies. Suddenly Black Dan thought of his specimen, which had come from a part of the mine they were to visit first, and, turning, went into the men's dress- ing-room, where he had left it In his coat pocket. His clothes had been hung on the last of a line of pegs along the wall. To this he went, and, ignorant of the fact that Jerry had undressed after him, thrust his band into the pocket of what he thought was his own coat. Instead of the stone his fingers encountered a letter. He drew it out and saw that it was the one he had seen handed to his son-in-law a few hours before. At once he drew the paper from the en- velope. No qualm of conscience deterred him; instead he experienced a sense of n that his uncertainty should be thus simply brought to an end. His eye traveled over the few lines, instantly grasping their meaning. He knew the signature. Jerry was not intriguing with a common woman of the town; he was deserting his wife with a girl, hitherto of unspotted reputdtion, and for years beloved by Rion. It meant ruin and misery for the two human be- ings nearest to the bonanza king's heart, For a moment he stood motionless, the letter in his hand, and before his eyes he saw red. Then it cleared away. lie put the paper back in its envelope and thrust it in his pocket. When he came out into the shafthouse Barney Sullivan noticed that his face was red- dened and that the whites of his eyes were slightly bloodshot. One of the strangers rallied him on his absence, which had been of some minutes’' dura- tion, and he made no answer, simply motioning them to get on the cage with an imperfous movement of his head. The shaft of the Cresta Plata was over 2000 feet in depth, and the heat of the lower levels was terrific. Here the miners, naked, save for a cap, breechclout and canvas shoes, worked twenty-minute shifts, unable to stand the flery atmosphere for longer. Cold air was pumped down to them from the surface, the pipes that carried it fol- lowing the roofs of the long, dark tun- nels, their mouths blowing life-giving coolness into stopes where thé men could not touch their metal candle- sticks, and the iron of the picks grew hot. There were places where the drops that fell from the roof raised blisters on the backs they touched. On most of these lower levels there was much water, its temperature sometimes boiling. The miners of the Cresta Plata had a saying that no man had ever fallen into water that reached to his hips and lived. at the boftom of the shaft—the “sump” in mining parlance —was a well of varying depths which perpetually exhaled a scalding steam. Black Dan took his guests to the 1500~ foot level, whence the greatest riches of the mine had been taken. He was more than usually silent as they walked from tunnel to tunnel and drift to drift. Barney Sullivan was the cicerone of the party, explaining the formation, talk- ing learnedly of the dip of the vein, holding up his lantern to let its gleam fall on the dark bluish “breast” into which the miners drove their picks with a gasp of expelled breath. Nearly an hour had passed when Black Dan suddenly drawing him back, whispered to him that he was going un to the $00-foot level to see Jerry, to whom he wished to give some instructions about the dinner that evening. Barney, nod- ding his comprehension, moved on with the guests, and Black Dan walked back to the station. As he went up in the cage he passed level after level, like the floors of a great underground building. Yellow lights gleamed through the darkness on the circular forms of west timbers, hollowed caves trickling with moisture, car tracks running into blackness. Bach floor was peopled with wild, naked shapes, delving ferociously in this tor- rid inferno. At the 800-foot level he got off, the bell rang, and the empty cage went sliding up. The landing on to which he stepped was deserted, and he walked up one of the tunnels that branched from it, called to a pick-boy, whom he saw in the distance, that he wanted Mr. Barclay found and sent to him at once. The figure of the boy scudded away Into the darkness, and Black Dan went back to the landing. It was an open space, a small, sub- terranean room, the lanterns fastened on its walls gilding with their luster the pools of waigr on the muddy floor. There were boxes, used for seats, stand- ing about, and on pegs in the timbers the miners’ coats hung. Where the shaft passed down there were several square openings—larger than ordinary doorways, iron framed and with plates of iron set into the moist ground— which gave egress to the cages. Now there was only a black void there, the long shaft stretching huhdreds of feet upward and downward. Black Dan sat on a box, waiting. Afar off, from some unseen tunnel, he could hear the faint sound of voices. Near by, sharply clear in the stifling quiet, came the drip of water from the roof. It was still very hot—a moist, suffocating heat, regarded by the miners as cool after the fiery depths below. He pushed back his hat and wiped the sweat from his face. His eyes, as he walted, kept watch on the openings of the three tunnels that di- verged from this central point. One of them was an inky arch in a frame of timbers. In the distance of the others lights gleamed. Now and then a bare body, streaming with per- spiration, came into view, pushing an ore car. With an increasing rattle it was rolled to the shaft opening and on to a waiting cage, which slid up. The miner slouched back into the gloom, the noise of the empty car he propelled before him gradually dying away. Black Dan could hear again the voices, and then, muffled by earth and timbers, the thud of the picks. Sitting on an upturned box--the king of this world of subterranean labor-—he sat waiting, motionless, save for his mov- ing eyes. Suddenly from the undefined noises the beat of an advancing footfall de- tached itself. He gave a low, inarticu- late sound and drew himself upright, a hand falling on either knee, his dark face full of a grim fixity of attention. Down one of the tunnels the figure of Jerry came into view, walking rapidly. He was smiling, for this summons made his escape from the mine easier than it would otherwise have been. A word or two from Black Dan and then up on the cage, and then—away into the night, where love and a woman were walting. The culminating ex- citement of the day made his eye brii- liant and deepened the color of his face. Full of the joys and juices of life, tri- vmphantly handsome even In his rough clothes, he was a man made for the seduction of women. Black Dan felt it, and it deepened his hate. “Did you want me?" he called as he drew near. “One of the plckboys said you sent for me.”. .1 want to see you for a mo- 1 want to ask you about some- “Yes ment. thing.” The elder man rose slowly from his box. His eyes were burning under the shadow of his hat brim. “Come over here near the light,” he said. “I've something I want to show you. Near the entrance to the shaft there was a large lantern, backed by a tin reflector. It cast a powerful light on the muddy ground and the plates of iron that made a smooth flooring round the landing. Black Dan walked to it and stood there waiting. As Jerry approached he drew June's letter frqm his pocket and handed it to him. Jerry was taken completely off his guard, and for a moment was speechless. He took the letter and turned it over. ‘What's this? Where—where'd you get i he faltered, his tongue suddenly dry. For answer a terrible burst of profanity broke from the older man. He fell on Jerry like a lion. In the grip of his mighty muscles the other was borne back toward the opening of the shaft help- less and struggling. He clutched at the iron supports, for a moment caught one and clung, while the cry of his agony rang out shrill as a woman’s. In the next his hands were torn away and the slip- pery iron plates slid beneath his feet. For one instant of horror he reeled on the edge of the abyss, then went back- ward and down. A cry rose that passed like a note of death through the upper levels of the mine. Black Dan ran back toward the nearest tunpel mouth. The thud of the picks had stopped. The miners, men who work with death at their elbow, came pouring down and out, scrambling from stopes, running from the ends of drifts, swarming up ladders from places of remote, steam- ing darkness. White-faced, wild-eyed, not knowing what horror of sudden death awalted them, they came rushing toward the place where their chief stood, a grim- visaged figure at the mouth of the tun- nel. He checked them with a raised hand, even at such a moment able to assert his command over them. “Keep cool, boys. You're all right. There's been an accident. It's Barclay, For God's sake, tell Marsden to keep those women back.” In the shafthouse above, Rion, tired of waiting, was lounging up and down when the bell of one of the compartments gave an imperious summons for the cage to descend. ““They're coming up at last,” said Rion, moving to the edge of the shaft and stretching himself in yawning relief. “I never knew Easterners to stand the heat so long."” CHAPTER IX. Home. On the Friday morning June rose with an oppression of deathlike dread weighing on her. Jerry had only told her to hold herself in readiness for that day; she knew nothing further. But the morning was not half spent when a letter came from him, naming the time and place of their departure. As she read her dread deepened. The ardent words of love with which the letter began and ended had no power :0 over- come her sickened reluctance. She was moving onward toward an actioa which she contemplated with despair and yet toward which she continued inevitably to advance. There are many .women like June. who, without the the man. they is heavy at their hearts. y not lift it, and the men who brought them to ruin grow to feel its chill and despise the woman who has not been strong enough to resist or completely give herself up. During the rest of the morning she remained in her room trying to sort her clothes and pack her bag. Her mind was in a state of stupefied confusion. She could find nothing, could not re- member where anything had been placed. At times a sensation of nausea and feebleness swept over her and she was forced to stop in the work she was doing and sit down. When at midday the servant summoned her to lunch, the gathered possessions and souvenirs of years were scattered over the furniture and about the floor. In the afternoon she wrote the let- ter to the colonel. She wrote rapidly, not letting herself pause to think, the pen flying over the paper. When it was finished she sealed it without reading it over. The rest of the day passed with light- ning swiftness. As she roamed from room to room, or sat motionless with drawn brows and rigidly clasped hands, the chiming of the hours from clocks in varjous parts of the house struck loud on her listening ear. The clear, ring- ing notes of 3 seemed hardly to have sounded when 4 chimed softly. The hours were rushing by. With their headlong flight her misery increased. There was now no sitting quiet, spell- bound in waiting immobility. She moved restlessly from window to window, looking - out on the desolation that hemmed her in. It had no pity for her. Her little passion, a little bubble on the whirlpool of the mining town, was of that world of ephemera that the desert passed over and forgot. At sunset the landscape flushed into magical beauty and then twilight came, and suddenly on its heels, dark- ness. The night was a crystalline, deep blue, the stars singularly large and lustrous. As she put on ber hat and jacket she felt that her mouth was dry, and if called upon to speak she would have had difficulty in articulating. Over her face she draped a thin, dark velil sufficlent at this hour to obscure her features entirely. On the way out she called the Chinaman and gave him the letter for the colonel, whom she did not expect back before Wednes- day. She made her ‘'way to the end of the town through the upper residence streets. They were quite dark at this hour and she slipped by, a slim shadowy shape, touched now a hen into momentary distinctness by the gleam of a street lamp. Outside the clustering lights of the city, she turned downward toward where the Geiger grade, looping over the shoul- der of the mountain, enters the town. The first of the series of “The Chronicles of Don Q,” by K. and Hasketh Pritchard— a tale of Spanish brigandage and one that is filled with thrilling adventures with the sequestradores of Spain—will be published .in next Sunday’s Call. Each of the series is a complete story in itself. Once on the road itself she walked with breathless speed, the beating of her heart loud in her own ears. She passed the last of the hoisting works, the sentinel of the great line that was stirring the world, and saw the road stretch gray and bare before her. Her light footfall made no sound in the dust. Straining to penetrate the dark- ness with a forward gaze she advanced, less rapidly. The dim form of the de- serted cabin loomed up, and them, just beyond it, gradually taking shape out of the surrounding blackness, a buggy with a muffled figure in the seat. For a moment she stopped, feeling faint, her clearness of reason and vision be- coming blurred. But in an instant the weakness passed and she walked on hesi- tatingly- and softly, staring at the indls- tinct figure and drawn irresistibly for- ward. As she approached she saw that the man sat motionless, his back toward her. She was close to the buggy when the soft padding of her footsteps in the dust caught his ear. He turned with a start, revealing by the faint starlight that section of a coarse, strange face to be seen between the peak of a woolen cap and the edge of an upturned coat collar., “Pardon, lady,” he said in a hoarse voice, “Mr. Barclay hasn't come yet.” June came to an abrupt halt by the side of the carriage. She stood without movement or sound, paralyzed by the un- expectedness of the unknown voice and face, For the first dazed moment follow- ing on the shock there was a completc suspension of all her faculties. There had been much surreptitious spec- ulation in the livery stable as to whom Jerry Barclay was driving into Reno. The man now in the buggy had b sure it was a woman. Seeing his sus- picions verified he tried to distinguish her features through the darkness and the veil she wore. He leaned forward, eying her kefnly, but making out nothing beyond’ a slender shape, the face con- cealed by a film of gauze. “He's probably been detained at the mine,” he said cheeringly. “‘They've that gang of Easterners goin’ down this aftdr- noon.” The girl made no answer, but drew back a step or two from the carriage. “If you'll get in I'll drive you up and down for a spell,” he said. “It's cold work standin’ round on a night like this. “No,” she answered in a muffled volce; “no.* “Put your bag in, anyway,” he sug- gested, stretching a hand for it She drew back another step and moved the hand holding the bag behind her. “Just as you like,” he returned, the familiarity of his manner suddenly chilled by annoyance. “It's for you to say."” She retreated still farther until stop- ped by a growth of sage at the edge of the road. The man, seeing he could discover nothing from her, gathered up his reins. “Well,” he said, “I can't run no risks with the finest team in the State of Neyada. I'll have to walk 'em up and down till Mr. Barclay gets here. He said he'd be before time, and he's nearly fifteen minutes late now.” He chirped to the horses. who im- medlately started on a gentle trot. The dust muffied their hoof-beats, and noiselessly, with something of stealth and mystery in the soft swiftness of their withdrawal, they receded into the blackness of the night. June stood for a moment looking after them, then turned to where the town. sparkled in descending tiers of streets. Its noise came to her ears, the hum of human voices, and sud- denly the misery that had held her in a state.of broken acquiescence all day, that had been growing in her for weeks, rose into a climax of terrified revolt. The full horror of her action burst upon her. In a flash of revela- tion she saw it clearly. unblinded by passion. Her repulsion toward Jerry’s wooing surged up in her in a frantic desire to escape, to get away from him. She feared him, she longed to creep away and hide from him—the terrible Jerry, the merciless master, before whom she cowered and trembled. She cast a fearful look into the darkness behind her and made out the shape of the buggy just turning for the backward trip. It would be beside her again in a few minutes. In front. stretching to the town, the road lay dark and deserted. She gripped her bag and started out toward the blink- ing lights, running at first, lightly and noiselessly on the trodden vegetation that edged the path. Her engrossing thought was that she might meet Jerry. In the condition of nervous exhaustion to which the long strain of the past months had reduced her she had lost all confidence in her power to direct her own actions, and resist the dominating man who had had her so completely under his con- trol. If she met him now it would be the end. He would not cajole and kiss her. He would order her into the buggy and ride away with her into the night. Several times she met men, dark fig- ures against the lights beyond. At the first glance she could see by their build or gait th hey were not Jerry. One, of lighter mold and more elastic walk, caused her to pause for a stricken moment and then shrink back in the shadow of a cabin till she saw her fears were unfounded. As the lights grew brighter and she en- tered the sparsely settled end of C street, she slackened her speed and gazed ahead, alertly wary. She did not see but that he must come this way, unless he the longer and more among the miners’ cabins, climbing up from there to the road above. She had started to return without any fixed idea of her goal. As she advanced she thought of this and immediately the colonel arose in her mind as a rock behind which there was shelter, his lodgings as the one place where she would find pro- tection. In the bewilderment of her mind she forgot that he was not due to re- turn yet, only remembering his original statement that he would be back on Fri- day night. If she could reach his rooms ‘without meeting Jerry she would be saf She felt like a child who has run away to find adventures ::a is suddenly strick- before. She thought it a refiection of ner [ own fever and hurried on, her eyes gleaming through her veil in peering looks sent ahead for Jerry. She was nearing the short street which led down to the Cresta Plata, when from two miners, al- most running past her, she heard his. name. Her heart leaped and for a sec- ond she flinched and shrank back into the doorway. As she stood there a group of men brushed by in the opposite direction and from these, as they paused for a second at her side, she heard a question and answer: - “How did he come to fall? Did he slip?” “Yes, on the fron plates. He stepped back and then slipped, and before Black Dan could get him he was gone. It was all done in a minute.” “Lord!"” came the ejaculation In a tone of horror. She started on and from a cluster of men standing In a saloon doorway she again heard his name. The tion broke out on her face. At the mouth of the lane that led to the Cresta Plata a crowd with restless edges, that moved down toward the hoisting works _and swayed out Into the roadway, made a black mass, expanding and decreasing as its members dispersed or drew together. It was too early for the day shift to be coming up, and she looked at it with sidelong alarm. It was part of the unu- sualness of this weird and.awful night. And again as she threaded her way through the scattering of flgures on its outskirts she heard his name twice in the moment of passing. ‘What was the matter? Why were they all talking of him? The sense of horror that weighed on her seemed to Increase untfl it became threatening and tragic. She felt as if she were in a nightmare, with the colonel’s rooms and the colonel the only place of gafety and means of escape. She for- got to be cautious and started to run, pushing her way through the crowd, dodging round the edges of excited groups, brushing by knots of women col- lected at the foot of stairways, and from every group the name of Jerry followed her. Suddenly, between the massed and mov- ing figures she saw the glare of the col- ored bottles in the window of Caswell's drug store. It was over this store that the colonel lived. At one side, outside the brilliant radiance of the bottled trans- parencies, a small, dark door gave on the stairs that led to the floor abeve. From its central panel a bell-handle pro- truded. She tried the knob first and found that it yielded. Opening it softly she looked up the dim stairway and saw in the hall above a light burning. She ran up, her steps subdued on the worn carpet. A narrow corridor divided the floor, passing from a door that opened on the front balcony back to an anterior region where the landlady lved and let rooms to less {llustrious lodgers. Of the two suites in the front that on the left was occupied by Rion Gracey, the othed by the colonel. June had often been in these rooms. She opened the door and looked in. The door gave into the sitting-room. empty of occupants and unlit. But the colonel's landlady had not been advised of his change of plans, and in expecta- tion of his return a fire burned in the grate and cast a warm, cheering light over the simple furnishings and the arm- chair drawn up in front of it. Jume crept in and shut the door. She fell into the armchair with her hands over her face and sat llmp and motionless in the fire- light. The noise of the town came dulled to her ears. She had escaped from Jerry and the pursuing echo of his name. A half-hour later the colonel found her there. After a hurried search for her through the town he had been seized by the hope that she might have sought shelter with him. As the opening of the door fell on her ear she raised her head and looked up. He saw her in the firelight, all dark in the half-lit room, save for her white face and hands. An exclamation of passionate rellef broke from him, and as she rose and ran to him he held out his arms and clasped her. They said nothing for a moment, clinging mutely together, her face buried in his shoulders. his hand pressing her head against his heart. Then she drew herself away from him and tried to tell him the story in a serles of broken sentences, but he silenced her and put her back in the chair. “Wait till tomorrow,” he said, kneeling down beside her to stir up the fire into a redder blaze. ‘“You can tell it all to- morrow. And, auyway, there's no neces- sity to tell it. I know it no “Do you know what I was going to do —nearly did?” “Yes, all about it. I got your letter.” “Do you despise me?’ she sald faintly. *No,” he answered. The fire began to burn brightly. They sat for a moment looking into it; then leaning toward him over the arm of the chair, she sald. almost in a whisper, ““Where's Jerry?" “Jerry?” slowness of utterance. somewhere.” “As I came along everybody seemed to be talking of him. I heard his name all along the street. It seemed as If it was following me. I'm afraid of Jerry.” “You needn’t be any more. You won't see him again. There's—he's—I'll tell you about that tomorrow, too.” “Will you let me stay with you?" she continued. *“Will you let me live here, somewhere near you? Will you take care of me?” He took her hand and pressed it, then held it out, cold and trembling, to the blaze, nodding his answer without look- ing at her. “I have nowhere else to go. I don't know where my father is. Unecle Jim, I can’t live up in the Murchison mansion alone. It's full of ghosts and memo- ries. I'm afrald of it. I'm afraild of Jerry. I'm afrald of myself.” “You needn‘t be afrald any more. I'm going to take care of you now. We'll get some rooms for you back here with the landlady, and by and by we'll get You're never going back to the Murchison mansion.” “I was so close to dreadful things there,”” she murmured. “It was so—" S mC