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THE SAN FRANCISCO SUNDAY CALL. Cathalee was everywhere present sim- ply overflowing with laughing good nature, keeping everybody keved up to the proper pitch, and the whole affair moving along with the dash and spirit characteristic of herself, and withal performing the duties of hostess and holder-up-in-chief as well as the two could be expected to coalesce. 'Yes, I am quite beyond words!” she frankly admitted. “I welcome my guests with one hand, and the other goes immediately to their pockets. Why, ves, to be sure, I am an expert! You, sir, would rather be waylaid by me than to have wealth thrust upon you by another? Very well, sir, your fine preference shall be duly rewarded.” And to an elderly admirer, who pro- fessed profound pleasure at the pur- chase of a beautiful rose from one of her fair assistants—Ilike from like—as he poetically delivered himself, “How beautiful!™ she told him, “take two and be doubly pleased—indeed, take three end be thrice blessed,” ever returning a laughing, reply or bright repartee to the badinage flung at her as she wended her way among her guests. “Oh, major! You shall settle a \‘exefi question I have with Mr. Chadeller, she exclaimed, suddenly coming upon these two gentlemen. ‘Mr. Chadeller promised to subscribe one hundred dol- lars to niy fund under certain condi- tions, and now he stands upon a mereé technicality, which I don’t think is fair.” “Excuse me, my dear!” 3 protested the old fellow, “T'll _ha\'e' nothing to do with any dispute. Egad! before I know it you would have me in the same box. Take my advice, Cha- deller; if she has any claim on you, pay up. Might as well settie first as ‘3",1 and save yourself trouble—mark me! “Qh, indeed! you dare me, Mr. Cha- deller! Will you at least kindly bear witness, major—the gentleman dares the lady. I warn you, sir, I am entirely crupulous—the end will justify the ans, whatever they may be. No, I promise not to sign your name to any checks. I do respect my liberty if not my conselence. Very well, sir, you leave me mno alternative but to do my worst—you may have cause to regret your rashness." ‘Bad business, Chadeller—bad busi- nes declared the major, shaking his head disapprovingly. “It's only inviting trouhle to dare a woman—just encour- aging the natural instincts of the sex to after us poor devils.” S 0o serious a view, major—too seri- by half,” replied Mr. Chadeller with racteristic assurance. ““We have to icap ourselves a little now and to make it half way interesting—a extra weight for age and worldly ence, you know, major. “gad, colonel! What do you think?” blustered the major to his old crony, he chanced toprun across some ter. “A crowll of those young ave just been telling me about rink they have trumped up over New drink'” he indignant- , making a wry face. “Here xty-scven years old, and I'm free io say that I haven't even discovered the possibilities of the old ks—Ilet alone exhausting them. And g me, sir, what's more, I don't ex- to even if I live to be a hundred— have a relapse. Colonel, some folks never satisfied to let well euough ne. There's where our reputations are n into shreds and scattered to the winds—over in that corner,” he lared, when he had recovered his ilibrium, suddenly catching sight of a certain select coterle of the opposite sex engaged in very animated coRversa- “They draw and quarter a_peor his beck, smirk and pa- laver to his face, break his bread and drink his wine. Gad! If they didn't e straight gullets they would sure- choke to death. “That they would,” gruffly replied the colonel, “but they're a sort of necessary evil, major. We do a deal of swearing, but finally swallow ’em like poor li- quor that we know won't lay well on r stomachs, and more than likely to n ue over in the night. But we must e the stimulant. Might as well try to New York without a tiger as without 1its scandal-mongers. old chaps as you and I, major, would have to take to the woods or go out and fight the niggers to find a lit- tle excitement.” “He may be all that a man should be—as men go—but there is something very mysterious about the whole affair. Who is -does anybody know?” de- manded one of this precious group, al- most defiantly. “I hope she knows more than she seems inclined to tell.' I aiways said that she would distinguish herseif, and she seems to be In a fair way to do it,” snapped another. “Unless 1 am greatly mistaken the Major himself has not unraveled the mystery. He was positively disagreeable this evening when I mentioned the sub- ject—a sure sign that he is In the dark, or does not approve,” declared another, with great gusto. “It is time he was putting in an ap- pearance. Of course she will not miss such an opportunity of parading him be- fore us all,” cynically observed another. “Oh, to be sure! She has already prom- ised several of her iptimates that the mysterious gentleman shall be presented to them. For my part I have no desire to become entangled with any mystery—" “I should positively refus: “Pray, excuse me!” “The idea!” ““Mercy!” Exclaimed these very estimable ladies in chorus, with much shrugging of shoul- ders and bosoms heaving with virtuous indignation. Two or three of their, num- ber were claimed by their partndrs in the dance, thus putting an end to a very sting discussion. s Constance Hillman had been a surprised - young woman, when, a or two after her departure from tne she had ;-celved a very curt note her father- -ather more peremptory the circ astances required, she could but feel—nforming her that there e to be no further reference to the presence in the city of a certain indi- vidual. Mr, Herringdon had also re- ed similar positive Instructions n, with no little importance, he had informed Mr. Hillman of the situation in detall. The young man was not a little surprised and considerably at a loss to account for this unceremonious disposi- tlon of possibly interesting complications, and was finally compelled to attribute the strange action to one of those unac- countable eccentricities for which the great man wag noted. Behind this par- ticular eccentricity, however, as well as many others, was a well defined motive. Mr. Hillman had no intention of giving any unnecessary publicity to the recent happenings in the Western mining dis- trict. The whole affair had been humil- fating to him as a man, and would not tend to enhance his reputation with his business assoclates or with the public. Moreover, reluctant as he was to admit it, even to himself, hg had a wholesome respect for this same man with whom vigorously pect tion. devil he had no desire to agaln measure strength until he was more sure of his ground. In the meantime there was nothing to be gained by incurring the displeasure of the other side. To this eccentricity, therefore, may be attributed in no small degree the mystery surround- ing the stranger—a mystery as desirable to one as the other, at least for the pres- ent. “I tell you, Burrows, there's something wrong. There's a nigger in the fence, or my name is not Morrison.” “My opinion, and has been for a week or more,” declared Mr. Lowe, another member of a group of men engaged In earnest discussion. Mr. Lowe was a banker and broker having Cathalee's financlal affalrs in charge. Mr. Morrison was also a broker, and both men, as well as others of the group, were closely al- lled with Mr. Burrows in various large financial transactions, ‘“What do you say, Francis?’ sarcasti- cally inquired Mr. Burrows of anotner inember of the group. “Do you believe we are about to be swallowed up by a nigger in the fence? Nonsense!” he growled, with infinite disgust. . “What can be wrong? The whole thing is in our hands as it always has been, and it will re- main so long as we have any use for it. But It's on its last legs—good for about one more squeeze. She’s served us pret- ty well, and we can’t complain if she is finally milked dry.” “May be all right, but looks very sus- picious to me just the same,” Mr. Morri- son insisted. *‘The Stock has been climb- ing slowly and steadily for several weeks past; in the last few days it seems to have taken a new lease of lifg despite the fact that we hzve been selling pretty freely. Somebody is picking it up as tast as we drop it. May be the public taking a new interest—or may not be. Whatever the cause, we must put a stop to it at once—it has gone far enough. We are not prepared for a bull movement in the stock at this time.” “I don’t feel just right about it my- self,” said Mr. Lowe. ‘‘Acts very strange- ly to me. I have been watching it pretty closely of late as I have made Mrs. Dav- idge interested, feeling mssured that it was perfectly safe. 1 have been holding this monev of hers for some time await- ing certain investments. and thought it might make a turn for itself while lying idle. Besides, I am pretty heavily inter- ested myself, and I cannot afford to see the thing go wrong at this particular time."” “Utter and complete rot!” declared Mr. Burrows, with irritable impatience. ‘“You are all frightened before you are hurt. 1T tell you the thing Is all right.. To be sure the stock has been going up—all the bet- “ter—it will drop all the harder. Some idiots have taken to buying simply be- cause it has shown a little life, and they imagine there is something pehind it; but they’ll run like a flock of scared sheep when we get after them.” i “Oh, 1 have no doubt whatever as to ultimate outcome—not the least in the world,” Mr. Lowe hastened to assure his leader. 1 am advised that the mills were shut down tight as a dAum today,” continued “So much for the new board of directors. Fact is, they are landed high and dry—workedout flat. I have been waiting for them to get to the end of their rope. You see I am in pretty close touch with them—not a move can they make but is immediately reported to me. Looks like a flourishing condition at the mines—very inviting indeed, for a bull movement in the stock,” he sarcas- tically observed. “Now is the time to strike—she'll sim- ply fall of her own weight,” declared Mr. Morrison. “We'll get after the whole crowd bright and early tomorrow .morning and break their backs befcre they have a chance to unload. We'll drive them into the woods =0 far they’ll never .get pack. We'll se- cure possession of the Properties pra tically on our own terms, and then I'll show you a trick that has not yet been turned.” “Gentlemen! Gentlemen! I protest!” exclaimed Cathalee, sweeping into the room just in time to catch these dire threats. “What a terribly cruel man you are, to be sure, Mr. Burrows. And upon whom, pray, is such punishment to be inflicted?” “Bulls!” laughed Mr. Morrison. *“The bulls are to be summarily deait with to- morrow. 'We must apologize, Mrs. Da- vidge, for talking shop, but the fact is, we are all interested in a cer- tain important movement to be in- augurated tomorrow, in which, by the way, you are also interested—Consoli- dated Properties—as perhaps you are aware?” “l was not, but you are quite excus- able. The whole party seems to have gone stark mad over the general sub- ject. As it seems quite the proper thing, I suppose I should be glad that 1 am—what shall I say—in on it? Is that slang, or a technical expression? I said it, and then wondered where I got it.” A general movement was being made toward the parlors. A very mysterious and impromptu feature ©of the enter- tainment had just been announced. Cathalee ascended the little stage and stood for a moment awaiting auiet be- fore speaking. ‘‘What piece of devii: try is that girl up to now?’ queried the major of his friend the colonel. “Something is going to happen, T'd stake my old head. I see it in her she’s just boiling over with mis- “Friends,” she said, pausing for a moment and glancing over her audi- ence as if to semnse it§ humor, *I am about to announce a very unusual fea- ture of entertalnment. It is not neces- sary that I should mention the very worthy object for which you are all lending me your hearty and generous and very substantial assistance this evening, nor need I speak of the sacri- fices more or less exacting many of us are called upon to make in order to suecessfully prosecute tae work we have undertaken. Suffice to say, we reckon not the mental or physical discomforts if our poor efforts but accomplish the de- sired purpose. This, then, is the justi- fication that I feel and offer—Iif, in- “deed, justification really be needed in behalf of so worthy a cause. Frankly, ladies and gentlemen, I am about to offer to the highest bidder a--kiss. The single stipulation, that the fortu- nate. gentleman-pardon my presump- tion—shall receive his purchase imme- diately, and on this stage, unless he chooses to walve claim—also for the good of the cause—which, however, is entirely optional.” The speech was delivered in a man- ner entirely characteristic of the speak- er, and was recelved with varying ex- prossions of approval and disapproval by her guests. The gentlemen enthusi- astically applauded; a portion-of the feminine element was manifestly amused; another was unmistakably shocked. Charity was no excuse; there was & limit even in behalf of charity, and this—this exceeded the limit. Cer- tain husbands and sweethearts were promptly instructed to refrain from taking any part in- the questionable proceedings. Varied thoughts and sub- dued expressions; outward smiles and excited speculations. Mr. Lowe was re- quested to record the bids in due form, and all was soon in readiness. “I am sure, gentlemen,” he said, “that you will appreciate a certain embar- rassment I am bound to ‘feel, and not compel me to repeat any portion of my previous remarks. I shall simply ask —how much am I offered “Five dollars!” simultaneously de- clared an effeminate voice, which was discoyered to emanate from Bertie Holly. “Five dollars!” repeated the fair auc- tioneer, with Incredulous emphasis, looking down upon the reckless bidder. “I fear I have over-estimated the mar- ket value of my wares.” “Ten dollars!” indignantly cried Jack Winston, gallantly coming to the res- cue. “Thank you, Jack, that is very much better!” ghe told him, very gratefully. But that young man had evidently gone abroad for trouble. “See here, Jack Winston, there are others who can furnish a very satis- factory article—at cut rates, if you please—and don’t you dafe bid again!’ were the very positive instructions he received from a certain young woman standing at his side. “Oh, me! TI'm suffering with pleas- ure,” he sighed. *“When I don't want to buy, I'm held up. "When I want to give up, I'm held down. 1 don’t like your party, Cath; he told her, con- vulsing the auctioneer, as well as those immediately in front, and temporarily’ interrupting proceedings. Fifteen dollars was bid, Mr. Chadel- ler offercd twenty, and tne movement was quickly established. Several of the older men soon withdrew, leaving the contention to the younger men, some of whom seemed not inclined to stand calmly by and see a coveted boon carried off with a struggle. “Eignty—eighty-five —ninety— ninety- five!” called the gay auct.oneer, the bids following one after the other in quick succession amid increasing ex- citement. “One hundred!” she sudden- ly cried, with exultant emphasis, and “Sold! to Mr. George F. Chadeller—one kiss—one hundred dollars! You have it, Mr, Lowe—very well.” A. tumult of good natured protest followed this sud- den termination of the bidding which, however, quickly turned to laughter and applause, and hearty congratula- tions for the fortunate purchaser. The major was In paroxysms of levity and his round red face gradually as- sumed a deeper hue until it became positively purple. *“She's fixed you, Chadeller—she's fixed you after all!” he managed to vociferate, between spasms. “T'd have sworn it—I tell you, you can't ‘beat that girl.” “I'm perfectly satisfled with my bar- gain.” replied that gemtleman, very complacently, which seemed a turn.of the affair on which the major had not reckoned. /° “May be—may be! But I wouldn't give you ten cents for your bargain and take your chances—and I'm not so devilishly decrepit at that,” he doggedly declared. “Mr. Chadeller, do you insist upon the delivery of your purchase according to stipulation, or will you waive claim in the nagne of charity?” the auctioneer would know, when quiet had been re- stored. “Very well,” she laughed, the gentle- man seeming not inclined to surrender any of his rights in the premises. “the transaction is strictly on a i basis. Kindly settle with MrsLowe, jand your® purchase shall be duly delivered.” “Settled!” announced Mr. Lowe, with imperturbable business formality. 2 Mr. Chadeller seemed not entirely at his ease as he made his way to the stage, but having gone so far no re- ‘treat seemed open to him, even if he had so desired, which, in truth, was not apparent. The very atmosphere seemed charged with feverish expectancy, and grew more tense each instant. Strange- 1y enough she whom it might naturally be supposed would be the one most eon- cerned was to all appearances the calm- est person in the room, and awaited the coming of the gentleman with entire composure. But who may be sure-of the ways of a woman when she has a will to accomplish her way? Surely not Mr. Chadeller, or he might have been even more fll at ease, and a little less confident of the power of his gold to win him that which he had failed to win for himself. Even he would have done well to remember that there’s many a slip ’twixt the cup and the lip. & “I really think it very uncharitable of you, Mr. Chadeller,” she sald, rather re- proachfully, it seemed, as the gentleman advanced to the center of the stage, “but if you positively insist, I cannot, of course, interpose further objections,” and parting the heavy draperies which served at the stage curtains, disclosed to the as- tonished gentleman the shining and ex- pansive countenance of old Lindy, who appeared to be in tolerable enjoyment of a situation in which she was specially featured. “You know the particular subject was not specified, Mr. Chadeller,” she told him, very ingeniously, but the poor man had seen enough. His vanity had re- ceived a rude shock, and he beat a hasty retreat to the uproarious amusement of the company, while the major suddenly discovered that his hilarity was flour- ishing at the expense of his breath, and if he would preserve the one, he must modify the other to an appreciable de- gree. CHAPTER XXVL Diplomacy. Some time later, Edith, peering about in search of Cathalee, finally discovered the object of her quest In earnest con- versation with Mr. Chadeller. That gen- tleman had promptly disengaged himself from the group of financiers with whom he was conversing rather disinterestedly as Cathalee was passing, and expresed himself as very much aggrieved at the “beastly joke” perpetrated at his ex- pense. “But you dared me, you know, Mr. Chadeller! It was all quite fair, you must admit, even If a trifie embarrassing, and—expensive,” she laughed, apparently not in the least awed by the serfous as- pect of her offense in his estimation. ““Oh, Cathy!” exclaimed Edith, sudden- ly coming upon them, “Mr. Waldron is here, and I have been looking all over for you. I'll fetch him!” “Waldron!” exclaimed Mr. ‘Chadellery incredulously. “That man here—here in your house?" 5 This was certainly Mr. Chadeller's un- lucky evening, yet he had only himself to blame for his earlier discomfiture, and again was he tempting fate with his reckless tongue. His irate state of mind —the most charitable excuse to be offered in his behalf—may have been in 'fi‘ de- gree responsible for the liberty ~had thus, perhaps unsconsciously, . assumed. “Is it possible that you wouid ask that —that hanger-on—into your house? He is nothing less—he is simply imposing upon your good nature—" : ; ‘“‘Are you aware, Mr. Chadeller, that Yyou are speaking of my guest?’ Cathalee suddenly interposed, with chilling and im- perfous dignity. ¥ Slightly preceded by Edith, the guest had entered the room apparently uncon- scious of the fact that he was the sub- Ject of the ill-timed remarks, and ad- vanced to meet his hostess with entire composure, bestowing not even a glance upon Mr. Chadeller, against whom he al- most brushed as that gentleman abruptly turned and quitted the room. The group of gentlemen standing close by were compulsory observers of the in- cident, and after greeting her guest, Wwhether from embarrassment, or a mo- mentary confusion, or loyalty to her guest, she turned and introduced him to Mr. Burrows, Mr. Morrison. and Mr. Laowe, which a second thought would have suggested ‘was as unnecessary as unde- sirable, dnd more than likely to result in further -embarrassment. The introduc- tion was acknowledged by the meresi nods, after which the gentlemen wan- ~w dered away as by common gonsent. “I fear T am a disturbing element in your social circle,” the guest remarked, with much the same indifference that he might have commented upon the weather. “‘And I feel that I should apologize for my social circle!” she indignantly replied. “I think it perfettly shameful—" “No apology is necessary,” he inter- posed. ‘‘You are not responsible for the civility ¢f your guests—or the lack of it. 1 think them rather amusing than other- wise.” g The gentleman may or may not have been conscious of the attention that he might in no small measure have appor- tioned to himself, but he could hardly have failed to note the decided change in the demeanor of his hostess since first they met. - The brikness, and even ag- gressiveness of speech formerly so char- acteristic, had given way to softly mod- ulated tones expressive of a certain fem- inine sweetness- entirely foreign to her demeanor toward all ethers. “All my people are talking shop this evening,” she told him, as they wended their way through the rooms. “Aside from bridge and stocks there is little do- ing nowadays, one worldly creature in- formed me.. Unless one takes up with one or the uther, one is quite outside the pale. T have refrained from indulging in either up to the present time, but it seems that 1 have now elected to identify my- self with the stock movement.” ““As the lesser of two evils?’ “Not necessarily. I really was not aware of my intention until a few mo- ments ago, when [ was informed that T was already an extensive participant— one of the advantzges of not being com-* velled to think for oneself. Are you fa- miliar with such things?” she suddenly inquired, regarding him attentively. “‘Somewhat—some things,” he replied, rather vaguely. “Because there is' one in particular.” she explained, very confidentially,” in which a lot of us are interested—some- thing or other out West—Consolidated Places, or something of the sort—whose 0 oe troken)' It is"ali quite arranged. The whole crowd ars to be driven into the woods tomorrow. and terrible things gen- erally are to happen, and when it is all over, we have made @&lot of money. At least Mr. Burrows ‘pronounced the edict, and: othes deed is as S “*And ‘have ~oi unfortunates?” 7 “It is perfectly ridiculous for me to ex- hibit my dense nee for your amuse- ment,” she laughed, suddenly . conscious of an amused interest on the part of her guest. “l am simply an animated phon- ograph. 1 cateh little squibs here and there as I go about, and then just say them without any well-defined idea of where they begin or end. T must stop it. One Is simply flying in the face of fate to just repeat without any defintte idea of their' meaning.” ‘“True, People are very liable to make trouble for themselves, and sometimes— sometimes,” he repeated, glancing curi- ously ‘at his companion, ‘“they uncon- sclously disclose very great secrets.” “‘Oh, 1 cannot possibly fancy myself do- ing anything quite so utterly stupid as that,” she protested. ““And yet fancy sometimes plays strange pranks.” “You are pleased to be sarcastic, sir. But I refuse to be drawn into any ar- gument. I am on safe ground for the present, and there I intend to remaln,” she declared, with great assurance. “I was not conscious of preparing a pitfall tbr your unwary feet.” 4 “I am willing to concede that you were not. Nevertheless, I have jome ' very suspicious of those apparently harmless little remarks you deal out so quietly— they are sometimes double-edged, I have found to my sorrow. Upon several occa= sions I have played the role of the small boy who didn't know it was loaded. I am now wiser—even 1f a tfifle disfigured,” she laughingly declared. “But we have strayed from our sub- ject,”” she suddenly recalled. *“Do you know what I have been talking about? You are excusable if you do not, but I refer particularly to all this talk in the air.” % ‘Are you a bull or a bear, on these Consolidated—Places, 1 believe you called them?” he asked, quietly, amused at the particular turn the conversation had taken. Bull? Bear?” To be sure. Are you long or short?"” ““Must o1e bg something—one or the other? ““Yes. One should choose with fine dis- cretion with such terrible store for—one or the other. “Well, really, I don’t know what I am, except that I am a simpleton in matters of business,” 8he frankly admitted, “but I hope I am not a bull; I should find it particularly inconveniént to be driven into the woods tomorrow. Mr. Lo%e has all my business affairs in charge, you know—of ‘course you don’t know, but I am going to tell you. . Mr. Davidge had the utmost confidence in Mr. Lowe, and none at all in me—in matters of busi- ness—so I was very considerately relleved of all responsibility, and Mr. Lowe was given sole charge of my " rs of busl ness. I am perfectly helpless in anything and everything pertaining to finances. I know perfectly well when T require money —I am not at all stupid in that respect— and I have only to tell Mr. Lowe what I require, and it is all perfecily simple and lovely. Some day I intend to bécome more familiar with my extensive affairs as I have great ideas I hope to put into execution before I pass into the sere and yellow state. But you have not told me. whether you think I should be-a bull or a bear. Iam sure you know quite well, if you were sufficiently interested to fell me,” which flattering expression of con- fidence would - indicate that milady was well ‘versed in certain other things, not the least of which was man. “I am going to ask Mr. Lowe just what I am.,” she said, and another subject quickly en- gaged her attention, CHAPTER XXVIL “The Tongue Is but a Foolish Jester.” The guests had long since departed, and the house was dark and still save one small room where only the firelight broke the shadows, and the stillness of the wee small hours was disturbed only by the softly mod: volces of two daintily robed creatures for whom rest and sleep possessed no allurements. Only less ‘important than the affair itself are ‘these aftermaths—pleasure or pain—all must be carefully gone over and weighed in the balance before. sleep can be wooed. ““And do you know, Cathy, whom I think was the most interesting of the men?’ asked one prettily robed person of the other, as whose feet she was com- fortably nestled. 7 “Jack!” replied the other, diverting her ;8aze from the flames, and smiling indul- gently on the speaker. ‘‘Who else, to be sure?” “Nonsense, Cathy! Jack is my Jack, of course; but he is only 2"boy. Wasn't he superb. in' evening dréss? And haw well he carried himseif! And how big and strong ne looked beside the other men! And what a really handsome man he is!” “Who. dear?” ““Why, Mister Bill, to be sure! He was far and away the most interesting of all the men. Now:don't tell me you dom't think so, Cathy, because I shall be very, very angry—indeed I shall,” she declared, with pretty insistence. ‘““And how all the people noticed Pim as he passed through the rooms with idith—indeed. how could they do otherwise, when such an inter- esting stranger suddenly appeared in their midst.” she prattled on, no reply being offered. ‘“Have you noticed how he shows Edith the same attention, the same quiet deference that he pays to an older person. The little minx enjoys It hugely. Yet there s that about it, she says, which makes her feel that he looks upon her as a very lttle girl, which she does not entirely approve. And when he talks to you, you just seem to have any number of things to say. and before you are aware, you are simply fushing along at a mad rate, and—well, you are just glad when he comes, and sorry when he goes—don't you feel that way, Cathy?” “l don’t know, dear, what I feel, ex- cept that I—I feel too much.” “Cathy!" impulsively cried the younger woman, starting up and staring at her companion in mild amazement, “Do you —do. you love Mister Bill?"” “Ah, yes, yes! Why deny it? Why deny that I am simply helpless? Way deny that I have been fighting azainst myself for days, and all the while know- ing the struggle was useless? I do not seem ta possess any strength, any will of my own, where that man is concerned. I-1, whe fancied myself so strong, am simply carried along, even while I am struggling against it.” *“And when did it all Pleaso tell me—" “Ah, dear, don’t ask me.’ I don’t know. T think he Interested me before I knew him—that terrible hight out in the moun- talns. He was so brave and good and tender to those poor people. A woman's heart Is not proof against such strength and goodness, my dear. I think he won my respect and admiration that night, and my heart, and all else quickly fol- lowéd when I came to know him. As I look back 1 can see'that I was going, going, all the while, yet failed to realize that I had been caught in a treacherous current.” #Oh, it'is perfectly lovely, Cathy!” “Don’t ‘say that, my dear, unless you wish me misery.” “Why, Cathy, what do you mean? You don’t mean—you cannot mean—that Mis- ter Bill does' not love you?’ she cried, incredulously. b “Yes, dear, that is just what I mean. Ts it so difficult to belleve—daes it really seem so strange?’ she asked. with sweet and loving gentleness, smiling into the upturned face of her serious little com- paniow. “Oh, Cathy, T cannot believe it! are tired and upset—" “Yes, .dear, I am tired and unstrung, 1 fear—I am weak to-night. I shall be stronger and braver tomorrow, and for all time. I must always be strong or I shall be miserable.” “Oh, no, no, Cathy! It cannot be! Surely Mister Biil must care for you in return for all the love you have given him. It cannot be that of all the men who would give everything they posss for your 'love—it simply cannot be that the only one you love has nene to give. No. no! I am sure it cannot—it must not be. You are mistaken, Cathy—you don't understand—" “There, there, dear,” she gently inter- posed, smiling indulgently at the earn- estness of her loyal little companion, “there are things you don't understand. It is_ all. quite hopeless. He does not think me such a bad lot—as a friend, perhaps—but a deeper feeling has never entered his breast. He is far more likely to become interested in Edith, if he has not already. Her sweet, innocent and fresh young life would appeal to a man of his character who is much too sensi- ble to tolerate the forced and artificial life we lead. Her life is just beginning, and may be molded into a sweet and lovely womanhood. The parts aré all there for his building, and a man may make of her what he will-a companion of whom he may well be proud. and the joy and comfort of his life, or—like thou- sands of others. Besides, I have much, and he has little—as the world reckons— and he is far too proud to accept more than he has to offer. But there, dear, all his fs beside the question.” ‘And just to think. Ca.uy, it was only yesterday that you said you were quite sure you never could care enough for any man—"" e ¢ dear, T know! I have said many foolish things. but I knew all the while that I was only deceiving myself—or try- ing to. When a woman is compelled to whistle to keep up her courage she is grasping at a straw—a poor acknowledg- ment of weakness and defeat, did she but know. “Oh, dear, Cathy! Girls are such ter- ribly contradictory creatures. We say such heaps of things, and make no end of resolutions knowing all the wiile we don’t even Intend to keep them.” “Ah, dear! the tongue is but a foolish and merely wags at will. But the heart—ah, the heart!—is subject to a higher power beyond the will.of man— much less a woman. We protest and re- bel, but the fact remains, we love without volition of our own, and even against our better judgment. Weak? Unwomanly? Inexcusable? Who shall.say? I have no excuse, nor do T seek one.” “*“Ah, no, Cathy. of course you do not. nor do any of us. We cannot regulate our hearts to' the day, the hour, the minute, shall do our bidding. Ah, our hearts! How treacherous—how loyal. How they let us sleep and dream sweet- 1y on unconscious and careléss of all save the - iIntoxication = of ‘the moment. Oh, Cathy, I cannot—I will not believe—" begin, Cathy? You ‘when you driv up, “Ah, my dear, yor are inexperienced in the ways of the wovld, and may you ever be shielded from i's rough edges, and never know the sorrcws and heartaches it holds for so many. Happinese Is not for all. Some must be content with lowily and lonely lives; some must be content to labor for others; some must even give their lives for others. But wherever her lot is cast, the happiness of every wom- an les in being true to her womanhood. without which, no king, nor man, nor station, can compensate her for the sac- rifice. And in the simple consciousness of her loyalty and obedience to those in- nate guardians, whose promptings are her safeguard—the only guide a good woman. need ever know—will come the great fru- iflon of happiness—the highest and besd reward our sex is privileged .to know." “Oh, Cathy' how brave—how good vou are!” Impulsively cried the younger woman. “And now, dear. bright eyes should be closed in slumber,” sealing two . pro- testing lips, whijech returned the mute token of endearment with another, and another, and yet another, while bright eves grew dim with tears and a little head nestled closer against the form about which encirling arms had found their way. Good-night was said —one last embrace. “Sweetest dreams, dearest, and may your life be the one long sweet dream of happiness you would make for others, could you but choose the way.” And while the stillness of the night grows heavy, a lonely figure sits before the grate — thinking — watching — yer seeing not the dying embers fade away —flickering—falling—clinging to the last lingering spark of life—fainter— fainter—one last spasmodiec ‘leap— darkness over all. Eveg as the flame of hove in the human breast burns and wanes and flickers, finally dying out, leaving a soul in darkness and despalr. CHAPTER XXVIIL Men of Iron Nerve. The next morning Jack, rushing breathlessly into Waldron's office, found Messrs. Bishop and Sutter in comfort- able possession. each man tilted back in an easy chair against the wall on oppo- site sides of the room complacently pulling away at. cigars at once con- spicuous’ for their size and color. “Has Mister Bill been here this morn- ing, or do you expect him soon?”’ he in- quired, with difficulty suppressing the excitement under which he was labor- ing. “Mister Bill ain’t showed up yet—lia- ble to roll in any minute I reckon, young ’'un,” sald Dave, with careless good nature, between pulls at his weed. “Anythin’ special?’ he inquired, noting Jack’s impatience. “Very much, Mr. Bishop. I have it pretty straight that they are going to hammer Consolidated Properties this moruing, and I came up to tell Mister Bill so tuat he might not be taken un- awares.” “Show! They be goin’ to hammer old Consolidated—be they? I 'lowed that young ’un,” said Dave, with the ms refreshing indif- ference, scanning the young man through the blue haze in which he had enveloped himself. ~ “Yes, and it's nine-thirty now. I think he would surely be hera if he knew that they were goiug to make the drive this morning. It would be very unfortunate if he were not aware of thelr intentions. Guess I had better look him up,” he suggested. The fleating seconds while awaiting s reply to his suggestion seemed to th excited youth like a waste of precious time, and he could hardly contrel his impatience while Dave Bishop, with the most exasperating coolness, removed the cigar from his mouth, slowly and even mare deliberately. delivered him- self of a prodigious velume of blue smoke, carefully blowing away the st vestige, before he was finally. moved to speech. “I reckon, young 'un, as how Joe Sutter over there, and Dave Bishop right here, stand to lose as much as the next man in this 'ere stampede, and we ain’t worryin'. "Cause why? 'Cause Mister Bill is pintin’ the gun, and when he gets ready to let go, we ain’t no kind of doubt but the game he's aimin’ at is goin’ to drop all right enough.” “Yes —yes!” said Jack, impatiently. “We don't know nothin’ about this 'ere round-up, and what’s more we don't want to know nothin’ about it—it ain’t in our line. Joe and me arc jest here on a little pleasure trip and we ain’t botherin' our heads about no busi- ness. What's the use? We're tender- feet and we've Sense enough to know n> “I understand, Mr. Bishop. I will see if I can find Mistér Bill,” said Jack, now thoroughly convinced that it was high time for him to act. / “You see, young 'un,” continued Dave, “the chaps that stake the color (gold) and keep the works a-hummin’ ain't the ones that put the pictures on paper and raise a great hullabaloo and get the crowd to fightin' and tumblin’ over theirselves like a pack of varmints to get hold of the pesky stuff. They 'tend to their works same as we tend to ours, and keep 'em goin' their own way, mostly, I 'low, by throwin’ the pack somethin’ to gnaw on once in a while Jest to keep their courage up to stickin’ p'int, when they ain't stirrin*~em up with a long pole and makin' ‘em jump sideways to get out of their own wa. “Yes, yes!” cried Jack, In sheer desper- ation. ‘Something must surely be Vot “You see. young 'un.” continued the imperturbable Dave, “we use them and they use us even if one is bad Mcker to t'other, and there's no more friction than is nateral to a couple of man-eaters that's bound to bite and scratch each other when t'other ain't lookin'. But there's a sight of trouble soon as a chap takes the notion he can run both claims, and gets the idee that he's the lone pine all by himself. He may stand up straight and stiff like for maybe some time, but he's jest darin’ the whole crowd to take a fall out of him. Where there's only one likelyspiece of timber to whack. there's a sight of axes jest itchin” to get at it, and first one and then another gets in a lick—and maybe scme feller two or three —and purty soon old tree gets kind of top heavy, and down he comes all in a heap. Then again, it's a mighty lkely mark for chain lightnin’, and when old Jove lashes out a kick at the big butt— no difference how solid—down comes Mis- ter Tree. A man ain't no harder to bring down, and a kick where it'll do the most good ain’t no bad way to do it, neither. He has a long ways best of the tree at that, seein as how he can pick himseif up ut business again. May used up like, but he knows more and Is a hanged sight more ow this "ere goin’ to be , B " is