The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, March 11, 1906, Page 3

nly waiting his time to throw you. I know his game, but he and his pals are pretty sure of ‘tnelr cards or e wouldn't be so reckless.” And so you came to warn me, Dad- die t was good of you. " But I don’t fear hifa—his bark is worse than “I know you don’t fear him, Mister Bill. You could crush every bone in his iserable body In a fair figat, but he n't fight in the open—he strikes m behind. I know what you did morning—I saw it all. You saved cowardly life when his threat to u was hardly cold on his lips. she hesitated, “somehow. I ke to thank you, only I know the same thipg for 2 you don't want m such as me.” I know only Daddie—dad's gal still replied, strok- e wh es to me,” he gently n Mexico’s soft muz: gainst his shoulder. d sweet and pretty and pure a moun- ain flower as ever grew. A cruel and plucked the innocent and help- less flower to please a passing fancy— the flower was not to blame “Those are the first kind words I've heard in vears,” she cried, covering her -h rested ce with her 2ds. and bursting into ars. “Oh! that I m wake up and myself Da more, and all the rest a dream. 1If only a ging word had been glven I might have been different Oh! why are words so free—so easy to give?” u have been unfortunate, Daddle, in seeing only that sid kind and ® t all of God's tter whether they are bt n and women, or no- body’s dog W' broken leg that you in the street, and carry home 1, yes, T know! You ave hearts and feelings the men that make us what You know that we don’t all he same chance, and maybe some t think we polson they breathe wouldn't be so better if they got the same start e some of us might be pitied as kicked and cussed. But I t keep you here no longer,' she ing her sobs. “I came to and—to ask something of ve the fine folks t you would yot ask of me, Dad- I know she with will understand,” some hesitation, “and it's to ask—you. You will do but T shall feel better for has made me what I am, any spite against him, any revenge. But r somewhere East rore years to live, sfaction for her to willing for her to s my name, which , but it means w, He know he's alive some time,” she continued, her flashing, and her whole de- ndergoing a sudden change, ay get you imto ‘a cor- u will have to fight back. in your way, don’t take any him—crush him as You have too much too much depends upon you— the pack barking and snarling ir heels a chance to pull you Its not for him. but his old - and—Daddle. Good-by, Mister and God bless you,” thrusting out hand, only to as quickly draw it and darting past him, rushed do he trail watched her until she disap- and then proceeded on his way slowly and thoughtfully. - Mex- trailed along unbidden and ap- parently forgotten for some distance, when slowly and with seeming solicit- dus inquiry. the intelligent head was thrust gently forward over his mas- ter's_shoulder. That's right., Mex, you rascal, I'm not very sociable this morning.” he said his faithful follower. pausing for a moment and stroking the animal’s head. But you must forgive me this time, old fellow, and we'll not alllow it to occur again. Come on, now before we wildly He peared get into any more trouble, and we'll see what wonderful surprise Ling has CHAPTER VL The cabin toward which the young man was making his way differed lit- e in external appearance from several hers in its immediate vicinity, but in the interior the individuality, of its owner was distinetly in evidence. One side of the large room was given over almost exclusively to a rather impos- ing collection of books; he had gath- ered about him a well seletted company of ertaining and instructive com- panions. On .the opposite side of the room was a large drafting board ar- rangement, drawers and shelves con- taining specimens of rocks and ores, jars and bottles of dust and dirt, all carefully labeled and arranged. = Sev- eral easy chairs, three or four large lamps, a ccuch on which was piled a small mountain of pillows, and a large square table in the center of the room, made up the conspicuous furnishings of the cabin. Amid these homely but com- fortable surroundings he spent many solitary hours—alone, but never lone- ly—frequently working far Into the night over some complex problem of finance, law or mechanical detall per- taining to the mines His simple life and temperate habits enabled him to perform seemingly which in reality the herculean labors. were little more than expression of a bealthy mind and body. natural well-balanced “Sorry to keep-you waiting, boys—I was delayed down below,” he briefly explained upon hig arrival at the cabin, as he re- leved Mexico of saddle and bridle and turned him loose.. “Breakfast ready, Ling?” he inquired, as the China boy's grinning coun.enance appeared at the cookroom window. “Him afl leddy, Mister Bill—heap good e'plise,” he chuckled, as he returned to his w 2 'he “boye” were apparently 50 years or more of age, David Bishop and Joseph Sutter, by name, co-workers and directors in the big mining company. They occu- pled a nearby cabin, and “grubbed” with the young man at a common table. “We know all about-it, Mister BilL"” sald Joe, as he led the way into the cabin. “Seems like you took a mighty sight of trouble to save the hide of that good-for- nothin’ Tenderfoot,” growled Dave. in evident disapproval, as they took thelir places at the table. - “Well, yes, it might appear that way, David—from your point of view.” “Don’t see what difference the p'int of view makes,” returned, Dave, with con- siderable warmth “He's a no-account Tenderfoot from any and every p'int’ of «-e compass.” “Even so, 1 could not stand by and see the poor devil used as a football—or worse,” said the young man, apparently ” not in the least disturbed by the disap- proval of the elder men. “You didn. have to break your neck gettin’ into the scrimmage,” Joe suggest- ed with embarrassing frankness. “I believe in lettin’ natur’ take her course. 1 reckon ghe knows best, and 'peared like sue had some dirty work on hand this mornin’ when you jumped in and upset things, Mighty serious busi- ness in.erferin’ with natur’ Dave sol- emnly declared. “That chap has been in this 'ere coun- try for nigh on to fifteen years to my knowin’, and he's a tenderfoot yet—and he'll never be no different. He's mighty handy pickin’ up low-down tricks, but nothin' decent 'pears able to stick to him,” sald Joe. “Great excitement in China this morn- in’,” saild Dave, under his breath, as Ling trotwes briskly into the room, and placing a steaming bowl of mush before each man,_ shutued out again grinning and chuckling to himself. “Runnin’ under purty high pressure—liable to blow up if he don’t let' off steam middlin’ soon. Wha do you cal-late Tenderfoot's up to now, Mister Bill?" he inquired, returning to the subject under discussion. “‘Any idee what low-down mischief he’s up to?” asked Joe, as y reply was not forthcoming. “Yes, I have several jdeas, but they will not tend to raise the gentleman in your estimation.” i “Let her go, Mister Bill—he sure can't g0 no lower,” said Dave. “Well, Dave, my ideas, like the points of vour compass, all tend to one conclu- sion. Tenderfoot and his pals are spy- ing on Consolidated Properties in, the interest of certaln Eastern caplitalists.” {What!” shouteu astonished Dave Bish- op, staring at the young man in open- mouthed amazement, “and knowin' all that you jump in and save his miserable life? That's what I call puttin’ a bounty on a chap's cussedness.” “Some crowd or other seems to be holdin’ a gun at our heads most of the time: and I reckon they will so long as they think it's worth their while,” said Joe, with xeen disgust. “Seein’ as how you've been kind enough to give the varmint & rope to hang us with, what are we goin' to do about it? Jest hang ‘round sort of easy-llke, and wait to be strung up?”’ inquired Dave, with grave sarcasm. “That is only another point of view, David. I have given hinr a rope, yes—to hang himself,” replied the young man, quietly amused at the surprise and indig- nation of,the elder men. “I 'low I don't see much beyond the pint of my nose, Mister Bill,”" said Dave, so clear to me as it might Joe was forced to admit. be, ““Well, then, it occurred to me that so much general cussedness-concentrated in one individual might be made to serve some good purpose if it could only be rightly directed.” “I pass,” gaid Dave, with a hopeless shake of his head. “I aln't doubtin’ but you'll do what you say, Mister Bill, but T'm mighty curious to know how you expect to turn the current of a river and make it run up stream.” “By me, too—I ain't in the game. How you goin’ to do it ister Bill, if it ain’t no great secret inquired Joe, with considerable curiosity. “To be perfectly frank, Joe, I don't know; but I thought I might figure it out now that I have the general dimen- sions of the problem.” quietly replied the young man, whose appetite seemed not in the least affected by the serious aspect of the situation in the estima- tion of his companions. “You can't do it none too quick to my way of thinkin', Mister Bill,” said Dave, very positively. “We agree perfectly on that point—" “What's happened to that highbinder v?" exclaimed Dave, as a wild Mon- golian yell rang out. “I was feared he'd blow up,” he solemnly affirmed. An unintelligible jumble of broken English, and a rapid scampering of feet followed the first wild outbreak, and Ling burst into the room, a pitiable picture of tearful consternation and helpless despair. “Old Mexico, he velly bad horse— him no good!” he cried, wiping his eyes with his white apron, and with diffi- culty refraining from sobbing outright. “S'plise all gone—Mexico eat him all up, Mister BilL" “What was the surprise—what did old Mexico eat, Ling?’ inquired the owner of the maligned animal, very seriously. “Mister Bill, good—he like send long way he say apple pie heap him velly much. Me off to get apple—make two velly fine apple pies— heap big. Me put ’‘em on shelf out doors, old Mexico come along and eat him one—like him velly good— eat him two—all gone—no more. Mis- ter Bill get s'plise—old Mexico catch ‘em all—me heap mad!” he cried, and fled from the room deaf to all com- miseration. “You'll sure have to take the will for the deed this time. Mister BIIL" said Dave, more soberly than was his wont. “There’s: a sight more human natur’ inside his yaller hide than I had any idee.” . CHAPTER VIL The Test of the Metal. In the still gray light of the early dawn, high up on the summit of the hill rising steep and abrupt above the little town, might have been discerned the solitary figure of a man outlined against the somber mountain side. Straight and silent he stood, gazing steadfastly off into the distance. At his feet lay his sole companion, a splen- did pointer, that now and again looked up inquiringly at his master, and re- ceiving no acknowledgment of his presence closed his eyes and possessed his canine soul in peace. As the child to the father was this little town— this thriving field of industry—to him who stood like a sentinel of the night watching over its sleep. He had seen it grow with strong and sturdy. strides from the infant to man’'s estate; he had seen it steadily acaquiring the power that was to turn upon and dis- pute possession with him who gave it birth. The time had come, All his earlier efforts, his trials and triumphs, had been but the preparation for the final struggle that must now be fought to victory or defeat. That which was his by right of industry, the fruits of his labor—even his life, if circum- stances recuired—were the spoils de- manded by his powerful and unscrupu- lous enemy. His had been the first hand to drive a stake on that hillside when, only a little more than_ four years before, he and his two companions with their small pack train had climbed slowly and wearily up from the valley in quest of the rich veins of mineral which he believed lay hidden among those rugged hills, Day after day they had toiled on in the same monotonous, discourag- ing, vet persistent search, until thelr patience was finally rewarded, and the secret hiding place of nature's treasure was laid bare. Almost immediately the hillside and. surrounding country echoed to the.,lound of pick and drill. THE * SAN’ FRANCISCO SUNDAY A camp sprang up in a night—a town seemed to emerge from the very moun- tainside. Wonderful tales of the fabu- lous wealth stored in these hills spread broadcast over the land, and hundreds tocked to the new Eldorado. Com- panies large and small were exploited.: and thelr shares of stock greedily taken, by a susceptible and speculative public almost before the ink was dry on the certificates, or a clod of earth turned on the claims. A monster company. to work the mountainside on a mam- moth scale was put into operation, with a facility which spoke mnot less eloquently for the marvelous energies of its promoters, than for the credulity of the public., Its stock was quickly at a premium, and to meet the insis- tent demands of this dkme credulous public, its accommodating promoters doubled, and finally trebled the stock, which went soaring to fabulous figures. There seemed no limit to. the possibili- ties of these wonderful properties as viewed by their promoters. A railroad was indispensable to the successful working of this mammoth plant, and the project was carried through with the same wild hurrah that had charac- terized their previous operations. While excitement ran at fever heat, and spec- ulation was rife as to the, point the stock would ultimately reach, there suddenly came from out an apparently clear sky a blinding and stupefying crash that shook the new company te its very foundations. Without a mo- ment's warning a report went forth from the mines that the veins, which were popularly supposed to be inex- haustible, had been lost. Down tum- bled the stock, the phenomenal gains of weeks melting away in a night. Not until the stock had fallen considerably below its par value and thousands of the shareholders been shaken out were the veins picked up—or so reported from the mines—and the stock permitted to climb slowly back into popular favor. For a while all seemed serene, and the confidence of the public was once more restored, ywhen the mines were suddn- 1y dlacov}red to be flooded, and down went the stock to even a lower figure than before—in short, the properties had simply been made the toal of the few to gull the many. In’ the adjoining claims a smaller company had sunk its shafts, and had successfully prosecuted its work of de- velopment and production. Unfortunate- 1y for its owners, however, their more modest property was made to suffer through the erratic movements of the larger company, as the same conditions were generally supposed to prevall in each. They rarely profited by these fluctuations as they had no means of ascertaining the movements of the stock jobbers only as their own stock went soaring up or tumbling down hard on the heels of their neighber's —they were as much in the dark as was the public at large. Finally, In= self-defense, they suc- ceeded, with the assistance of capital interested on the strength of the known value of their own property, and the real, or supposed value of their neighbor’s, in securing control of the big company. Instead of freeing them- selves from the influence of the stock jobbers they now found themselves the direct object of attack of thelr former neighbors, who lost no opportunity of harassing them at.every turn. The Properties ‘had been so conspicu- ously before the public and their won- derfui possibilities so strongly credited despite their erratic movement that a phenomenal “strike” was belleved to be only a question of time, and the susceptible followers seemed ever will- ing to take at least one more chance rather than to miss the golden oppor- tunity of their lives, as they seemed to regard it. Under these circum- stances very little was required to start the stock moving up, and even less to topple it down, the new owners being still helpless to prevent the:-vio- lent fluctuations. In the meantime the Eastern Syndi- cate had invaded the field, and the Properties almost immediately became the bone of contention of the two great monev powers, each employing its own peculiar methods. While the big syn- dicate had now been effectually dis- posed of, the immediate resources of the eompany, never large, had practi- cally been exhausted in the long fight with its powerful rival and in securing a controlling interest in the railroad. To complicate matters the old crowd had succeeded in forcing the price of the stock down to the lowest point In. its history and gave every evidence of their intention as well as their ability to keep it down, thus preventing its owners from realizing on their hold- ings. This, then, was the latest inven- tion of the enemy. The trap had been laid with a cunning appreciation of the necessities of the company when it should emerge from' its fight with the syndicate. Money—a considerable sum—must be forthcoming for further improvement and development of the mines, or loperations would soon cease. Clearly the old enemy was a menace to the prosperity of the Properties; he must be disposed of, and that most effectu- ally, before anything like permanent prosperity could be hoped for. Eréct and rigid he stood—deep his thoughts and tense his gaze. Stranger dlike to weakening back or quaking knees was- that superb physique. Ad- mit defeat—not until. he was laid on his back. Fight—to the very last ditch. Throw up his hands—never. “I have {t!” he exclaimed, glancing about him as from a sudden awaken- ing, , "I have it at last, - old fel- low!” he laughed, stooping down and fondling the .patient - animal that sprang to his feet at the first sound of his master's volce. “You are a good dog, Seneca—you have been very patient with your morose old master. We'll go home now. It is a wise dog that knows his limitations,” he genially declared, as he straightened up and made ready to de- scend the trail, - “Ah! 'Tis grand—this world of ours!" he exclaimed, with almost reverential simplicity, as he paused a moment to con- template the wondrous scene of changing Jights and shadow: s truly a mar- velous handiwork,” he gently breathed, “a glorfous ‘habitat for man. Oh, you poor devil, man!" he sighed after a short interval of .silent contemplation, his mood suddenly -changing.. “How you fight and kill! How you fawn and grovel! How you debase and debauch your better self in the mad struggle for the paltry things of earth, which leave the richest of your kind but the merest paupers.compared with .the wealth you cast aslde—the ‘wealth of soul exchanged for the dross of earth—because you are too mad to heed, 00 blind to see. Verily, the ways of man e offers to the creator of great and wonderful universe. No, Seneca, 1 am not talking to you, but to a very superior creature called a man, who is heartily ashamed of himself and his little * insignificant thoughts. Lead on, you ras- ‘I cal—we have sche! i “Figured it out, er Bill?"*- inquired ‘Dave as the young man strode briskly into the office a few minutes later. 11 understanding—'tis but a poor this ' p, CALL: s % reckon you turned out purty early this mornin’—or maybe -vou didn’t turn in?” “Leave for Denver tonight, Dave,” he briefly replied. “You don’t say so? I reckon you didn’t lose your sleep for nothin’. Whose goin’ to run the works while you're gone?”’ “For the next few weeks thcy will be Tun for the benefit 'of certain individuals: Wwho are interested in our affairs. We will give Tenderfoot and his pals all the rope they want.” success fairly won. I don’t mind an oc- casional setback, and even a fair and square knockdown is not without its compensating features. This life is a great problem, but if it means anything it means that each man must make his own fight and develop the best that is in him by an honest struggle with the vexy difficulties that so many of us seck to avold. I may be wrong, sir. That {s.only my conception of the great séheme, but it’s a poor builder who lacks ““All right, Mister Bill, anythin’ you sap, the courage of ' his convictions and re- $oew; even o blowin’ the “We will try the effect of a little ex- plosive agency on the otber fellow before taking the treatment ourselves, Dave.” “ “Mighty little difference between rope and powder—lands a chap in purty much the same place, I reckon.” -~ “‘Depends upon which end of the rope you happen to be attached to, Dave. Don’t forget that in your reckoning. For the present. we shall devote our best efforts 1o keeping away from the business end of the string. Any objections to offer?” “Nary ajone, Mister Bill. That suits your Uncle’Dave down to the ground.” CHAPTER VIIL No Flaw. Mr. Winsor Goddard, banker, mining man and several times millionaire of Den- Ver, Colorado, was seated at his desk in his private office in the rear of the large banking room looking over his morning mall. Close at hand lay a telegram at which he occasionally glanced as if some further meaning or perchance a’ different interpretation migh* be drawn from the brief message. When the last letter had recelved his attention he called his chief clerk, with whom he held a brief consul- tation, and to whose care he consigned the pile of letters. When he was alone he again slowly read the telegram, set- tled himself comfortably in his chair, and apparentiy gave himself up to deep med- itation. 'He was not permitted to remain long undisturbed, as a clerk entered al- ?‘::u immediately and announced a vis- . “‘Good-morning, Mister Bill—glad to see ¥ou, young-man,” was his hearty saluta- tlon, giving his visitor a cordial hand- clasp. “I have been studying your tele- ‘ram and speculating upon the nature of this important business. I believe I liave been permitted myself to indulge the hope that it may relate in some way to that old proposition of mine—which is still open, if you care to accept it,” he added, regarding his visitor question- ingly. / = “There are several® holes in the ground down there in New Mexico that require my most devated attentlon for the pres- ent, Mr. Goddard.” “I imagined as much. We have heard considerable - about that surprise you sprung on the cld Consolidated crowd, as well as your recent set-to with the Hillman combination. They are an un- scrupulous lot,” he declared, shaking his head, “You served them well."” ““The real struggle is to §ome—we have staked all on this final effort to free our- selves from our tormentors.” “Orinlons seem to differ as to the out- come of this fight with your old enemy. Bome incline to belleve that it was part of the game to allow you to secure pos- testicn of the mines in order to create a little excitement and at the proper time draw the public into a fight to regain control of the Properties—merely another way of playing the same old game. Others think you capable of taking care of yourself, and incidentally, of the crowd of sharps with which you have to deal.” < “And you, sir?’ querled the young man, the slightest suggestion of a smile hovering about the corners of his mouth. ‘I am free to confess, young man, that 1 am not wasting any of my sympathy on you,” declared Mr. Goddard, with an assumption of indifference. ‘‘Neverthe- less, we are all quite curious to know how you expect to restore public confi- dence In your mines, and at the same time hold the ofd crowd at bay.” “By the simplest and most direct means at my command, Mr. Goddard,” promptly. replied the young man. “I shall fight them at their own game; on_their own grounds—to a finish. I shall restore public confidence in the Properties, by running them on business principles, and giving each man a fair and square run for his money.” “Spgken like the man that you are, Mister Bill,” impulsively exclaimed Mr. Goddard, bringing his hand down on the broad shoulder of the other with forcible approval. “That's the epirit, young ‘man, that cannot fail to succeed ~—your fight is already half won.” “Thank you, sir, I am glad to have your approval,” sald the younger man, with simple frankness, “This is practi- cally a single-handed fight on my side, and a pat on the back from the right source carries the weight of a sledge hammer.” T see there is little hope of your con- sidering my proposition,” sald Mr. God- dard, regarding ~his visitor - with thoughtful interest. “I have been at a loss to understand your persistent re- fusai to even serlously consider this position—a position I believe I am not overestimating in saying .would be re- garded by the average young man as the opportunity of his lite.” believe it to be all you say, eir.” ‘wish to be relieved of the immedi- ate care and responsibility of my rather extensive mining interests—theroc are too-many diversified claims upon my time. Morcover, I realize my limita- tions. I am not 8o robust as I was some years back, and I want a vigorous, ca- pable, honest young man to take the field in-my place and to assume the active management of my outside inter- ests. The position is not a difficult one 10 fill; in fact, the place is ready-made, and a man has but to step into it and keep the wheels in motion. The heav- ier responsiblilties devolve upon me, and he has but to work under my su- pervision. Certainly, young man, you do not-think me a hard and disagree- able taskmaster?’ he inquired, with a kindly: smile. - “Believe.me, sir, T thoroughly appre- clate the honor you do me—" ~ " “Yes! yes!” interposed Mr. Goddard, “I know all about that. We will as- sume that the honor I would confer upon you is great. We will also as- sume that your very profound appreci- ation of that homor prompts you . to throw it unhesitatingly over = your shoulder., What then?” - - “To be perfectly frank, Mr. Goddard, I don’t think that I Anm‘el%:tchlly well fitted for this particular position. There are plenty of capable young fellows “the q tions you' men- tion—plenty, I dare say,. who would ;:lonuder At ‘f"t opportunity of. u:_«:r ves to:step into a ready-made, - tion.” e it /’“ Iam: tops 1-am works fuses to work out the plans of his archi- -“tect according to his best understanding.” “There i{s food for reflection in what you say, Mister Bill, even for an old man. T have nothing more to say except that I heartily commend your spirit— ‘would that more possessed it in common,” he added under his breath. “But what of this important business, young man? ‘What would you have of me?” “I would have,” replied the young man, appropriating a small figuring tablet, and sdrawing with careful deliberation the fig- ure 5, to which he annexed with equal care several well-defined circles, ““I would have,” he repeated, as he prefixed the sign of dollars, “a call on that amount for say sixty days,” pushing the tablet along the desk in front of the other, ‘“‘not a cent less,” he added, very positively, looking the elder man straight in the eye. “Your greatest detractors would never accuse you of littleness of thought or con- ception, Mister Bill,” said the banker, re- garding the young man with an amused twinkle In his eyes, after a prolonged scrutiny of the figures. “Men think according to their natures —the ground hog is not equipped for the flight of the pigeon.” ““All right, Mister Bill, we will see what can be done. When do you leave?” . ““Tonight—" ' “Oh, Dad! I have been waiting ever o long for you to finish with Mister Bill The wheels of commerce must stop for a few minutes,” ' Interrupted a laughing voice, as a young woman ushered herself ‘into the office. “How are you, Mister Bill?” she briskly inquired, extending a prettily gloved hand. “I saw you enter the bank as I was driving by. I suppose you are aware, sir, that you are in my /bad books—I really should not deign to notice you. But that's my forgiving na- ture—it is a downright misfortune to have so little control over oneself,” she de- clared with great good humor. “‘Beware, Mister Bill. how you trespass upon this young woman’'s good nature. You see how terrible is her displeasure,” warned the father. “Dear old dad speaks from sad experi- ence,” she laughed, seating herself on the arm of his great easy chair. *“He is not free from me even in business hours. I am sure, dad, you have talked with Mis- ter Bill quite long enough; you surely ::nnel have anything more to say to m."” “Mister Bill has important business, my dear, and he may not be able to give you much of his time—"" “8ir!” she indignantly exclaimed. “Busi- ness should never be permitted to inter- fere with the desires of a young woman. ‘We have been hearing all sorts of strange and wonderful things about you, Mister Bill, and I shall want to know all about them from your own lips. Please go on and finish your business, dad, because I want to carry him off with me.” “Better go along with her, Mister Bill— you will have no peace until you do, Busi- néss can be deferred, but not the wishes of this young woman,” sald Mr. Goddard. “She has a stable full of all kinds of wild and untamed beasts, two or three new rigs, ‘and I don't know what not. She won’t be satisfied until you have seen the whole circus.” “Dad knows,” she laughed, her eyes sparkling with merriment; “Dad knows to his sorrow. Your coming is most op- portune, Mister Bill. Any number of things are going on, and I am hardly on speaking terms with a man of my ac- quaintance; you are a friend in need. I'li promise you that not a minute shall hang heavily on your hands for a week at least. He simply cannot get away from us, can he, dad?” s “I don't know, my dear. You must make your own arrangements with Mis- ter Bill: he is the one man who pays no attention to your old dad. He has a will of his own. Beware of him, my dear,” said Mr. Goddard, with a kindly glance - at the young man. “Just watch me, dad—watch the magi- cal effect of gentleness upon a stubborn will,” she laughed. “If you have any pity on an old man, Mister Bill, you will help him to a chance to catch his breath. I am getting rather stiff in the joints to keep up the mad pace this young woman sets for me; she needs a younger running mate to keep pace with her—" “Leave Mister Bill to me, dad,” she laughingly interposed, placing a tiny fin- ger on dad’s lips, “‘and please go on and finish your business as quickly as possi- ble while. I wait outside. And mind,” shaking a warning finger at the men, “no long stories,” with which parting admon- ition she took her leave. “She is all that is left me, Mister Bill; she is the only ray of sunshine in my ‘Hfe,” said Mr. Goddard, with fatherly pride. and gentleness, when the two men were alone.. “We have become boon com- panions; we understand each other thor- oughly. Somehow she seems'to care more for her old dad than for any of the young fellows. Don't take her long to size a’'man up, and when she discovers his weakness she has little use for him. She goes with me on all my trips to the mines, and she knows more than half the experts; she is of more real value to me than any man I have. She seems to know intuitively a good many things that the rest of us have to work out, and some never do seem to comprehend. If she ‘were .a boy. sir, instead of the sunshine of her old dad’s heart, he would not have ' to look far for the man to relieve him of his cares responsibilities—not far, young -ma , w.--'. 's Intaition. “Well?” queried the young woman of her companion, pulling up her thorough- bred with startling abruptness, as they émerged Into the open country beyond the city, and permitting the animal to _indulge a more moderate pace. “Well?” ‘she peremptorily repeated, her mood evidently having undergone a decided change during the brisk dash ¢through “the town. i~ “You drive exceedingly well, even if a trifie recklessly, if you will accept so doubtful a compliment.” 2 “Nonsense!” she impatiently exclaim- ed.. "I have brought you out here be- - cause I wished to talk to you seriously. You ‘dld not accept dad’'s offer?” S .did well. Had you done so I ‘should have had you ignominiously dis- R .at_the very first opportunity. a.walking delegate of no mean . in: this particular family, I upulously?” need be, Jeou. “Frankly, I think you not less one than the other. You did not disappoint me because I know you.” *“Equally frankly, I belleve I have never seriously considered the propos tion your father made me. “Certainly not—there was no need. You took the only course open to you. Had you succumbed to dad's flattering inducements—had you even hesitated— I should have been disappointed in- you™ “With the result?” he questioned, quletly amused at the earnestness of his companion. - “You would have relegated yourself to the commonplace; simply exchanged your individuality for the pecumiary advantages of greater or less value which dad had to offer. I expect: could almost say I demand—better things of you,” she declared, almost deflantly. “Demand?” “Yes, demand,” she repeated, with even greater emphasis, “in the name of countless helpless creatures of your sex,and mine. Such men as you are created for a purpose; you have a well defined work to accomplish; a great office to minister to your fellows, and you must not—you dare not—fail in your duty.” “You would have me right the wrongs of the downtrodden of my kind?” ~ “Yes, so far as lles In your power. The influence of one strong man striv- ing for the welfare of his fellows is a far-reaching power for good—a moral strength that prevails against greater numbers—and he who possesses It has no right to withhold 1t.™ “And this is my power—my work?” “Most assuredly. Don't smile,” 3 protested, with great seriousness. “Tt is true; you know it not less than I; you need no interpreter; you know it in the very consciousness of your stregth —the very strength that left you no alternative but to refuse dad’s offer.” “This affair of the present?” she ques- tloned after an Interval of silence, regard- ing him intently. “You will win in the end 5. “I have not considered the possibility of your faflure. A grave responsibility rests upon you—greater perhaps than you are aware of, and you must win. Not for your sake or mine, but because it is right that you should.” “I belleve that element, at least, is ar- rayed on my side.” “It is not right that such shameful methods, such unscrupulous men, should succeed—they must not. Even now they are congratulating themselves on the suc- cess of their latest stratagem, as they are pleased to term it, and impatiently awaiting the time when they may take possession of the Properties and despoil you and your associates and hundreds of innocent stockholders of their rights.” “I am well aware of their intentions— they have not been at any pains to con- ceal them.” *“Oh, no!" she laughed, coldly cynical, in answer to his smile of amused inquir: “I am kept particularly well informed. I belleve that nothing of importance rela- tive to your financial dissolution has been allowed to escape me.” “My obituary seems to have preceded me.” “Which does not seem to cause you any great concern,” she replied, regarding him curiously. “No. I read between the lines—the, real obituary les there. Your: father has also been kept in touch with the progress of events, I presume?"” “©h, yes! Dad has been equally well in- formed, but for some reason not quite clear to ,me he seems to derive consider- able quiet amusement from the general situatfon. Have you been able to discover any considerable vein of humor in the mass of complexities in which you are involved?"” she demanded, giving him a searching glance. “No. Yet it may exist. Your fatheris a man of more than ordinary discernment.” “So it would seem;” she said, with con- siderable spirit. apparently not entirely satisfled with his reply. “Dad says that those with whom you have had to deal up to the present time are only the catspaws, and when you uncover the real enemy you will discover some pretty big guns—too big to be openly identifiéd with the dirty work that they have engaged in.” “Yes, without a doubt the real power is vested in a coterie of New York financlers who, for obvious reasons, could not afford to lend their names to such disreputable methods as have been employed, even though they were entirely willing to shars the spoils. Who they are I have no means of knowing at this distance, as they have kept well under cover.” “What do you intend to do—how do you expect to reach them?” she inquired, with considerable interest: “I shall drive them into the open and compel them to fight under their true col- ors—man to man—and then—" “And then?" she repeated, as he paused a moment. “Then I hope I shall not it you,” he said, more seriously than he had yet spoken. “You will not disappoint me even were you to fall In your first at- he quietly replied. “Failure does not mean-defeat to you; it only means another and a more determined effort to accomplish the task you have set for yourself—a greater satisfaction in your ultimate triumph.” “Beware lest your faith prove my un- doing,” he adminished. “I would have you win no hollow vie- “I would have you triumph that only men like you can win." “I believe that is what makes the gle really interesting—all that makes really worth while,”” he was forced to plause of your fellows and when she la cut his reply, “T lhflwo.- m‘“ consclousness