Chapter 21

________________________________________________
_ CHAPTER XXI

The ten days which Houston was to spend at Silver City had expired, and his work there was completed. He had followed much the same plan as in the office at the camp, doing the work of the company by day, and pursuing his own investigations at night.

Mr. Blaisdell had at first objected to his working evenings, telling him the company had no wish to make a slave of him, but upon Houston's representing that it was an absolute necessity in order to accomplish the needed work within a given time, he allowed him to have his own way. He had been able to get together much additional proof regarding the fraudulent transactions of the company, even ascertaining in what direction much of the revenue due the New York company had gone.

He was present when the company received the brief but pointed letter from Mr. Winters, in which he stated that the property shown them had not been what they were looking for, and that they had found something more satisfactory in another direction.

"Well, Blaisdell," said Mr. Rivers, in his quick, incisive way, "I'm not in the least surprised."

"Not surprised!" echoed Mr. Blaisdell, "Why not? I confess I'm surprised and disappointed."

"It's just what I expected," again chirped Mr. Rivers, "just what I told you all along."

"I knew you said you were rather suspicious just in the direction where I felt the surest of them."

"Just so," said Mr. Rivers, "I said all along, 'those fish won't bite worth a nickel.'"

"Well," said Mr. Blaisdell, with a heavy sigh, "all we can do is to try again."

"And next time, I'd advise you to have a little more bait, or else don't tackle so big a fish."

It was Houston's last evening in Silver City, and he sat in the hotel lobby reading letters which had just come from his uncle and Van Dorn, under cover from the Chicago firm, as usual.

Mr. Cameron was delighted to have met Van Dorn and the Englishman, and had engaged both men to remain in New York, awaiting word from Houston, when he should be ready.

The closing paragraph in Van Dorn's letter he read and re-read with a smile, it was so characteristic of his friend:

"I have had one of my machines carefully packed, and it now stands addressed, ready to accompany me to your mining camp on short notice, where I will show your people the latest method for the reduction of ores; and if the mining company itself is not pretty well reduced' before we get through, my name is not that of

Your friend,
ARTHUR VAN DORN.

P. S. 'The mills of the gods grind slowly,
But they grind exceeding small.'"

As Houston folded his letters, his attention was attracted by loud talk among a group of men in another part of the lobby. Sauntering in that direction, he heard an excited voice exclaim:

"I tell you, they're the biggest frauds on the face of the earth. If there's a dishonest scheme, or a sharp, underhanded little game that they're not onto, I'd like to know what it is."

"Which company do you mean?" inquired another speaker.

"I mean the mining company represented by Rivers and Blaisdell, with old Wilson as a figure-head. I can't remember all their long-winded names, but the whole combination is rotten, from beginning to end, nothing but a set of lying, scheming, thieving rascals."

"That's right," said an old gentleman who had not spoken before, "they're a tough lot."

"Tough!" echoed the first speaker, "I should say so! One of their little games is to take charge of mining claims for eastern parties. The parties send on money for development work, but do you suppose it is used in developing the mines? Not much! By and by, the first these parties know, they have forfeited their claims through lack of representation, but don't you think the company are not watching out, ready to jump the claim the very day the time expires. Sometimes they'll hire some poor Swede to locate the claim for them, and then assign it to them for a trifle. In that way, I've heard of their getting possession of the same claim over and over again."

"I've heard pretty hard stories about Blaisdell," said another, "but I guess he don't make much for himself, for as fast as he fleeces other people, Rivers fleeces him."

There was considerable more talk in the same strain, but after the group had separated, Houston, who had learned the name of the principal speaker, approached him as he was standing alone, and said, in a low tone:

"This is Mr. Hartwell, I believe; my name is Houston. Mr. Hartwell, I heard your remarks a little while ago concerning the North Western Mining Company and its officers. I am one of the clerks of that company, and I wish to know if you are prepared to substantiate the statements you have made here to-night."

"Yes," the man exclaimed with an oath, "I'll substantiate every word I've said here to-night, and I can get you a dozen more that will tell you more about that company than I can."

"Never mind about the others, for the present," replied Houston coolly, "what you have said to-night is likely to come to the ears of the company, and what I want to know is this; would you swear in court to what you have said here?"

"I tell you," said Mr. Hartwell, with another oath, "I'll swear to it ten times over, and if I ever have a chance, I'll down you and your cursed company till you won't know that you ever existed," and then seeming to take Houston as the representative of the entire corporation, he poured upon him a torrent of vituperation and abuse which was very amusing to Houston, who was only thinking of securing a witness for the prosecution, by and by.

"Well, Mr. Hartwell," he said at last, "you seem so anxious to express your feelings, we may give you an opportunity later. For the present, I wish you good evening," and he walked smilingly away.

Mr. Hartwell looked after him in amazement; "By George!" he soliloquized, "but that fellow's a cool duck, anyhow! I couldn't faze him a particle."

The next morning, Houston, in company with Mr. Blaisdell, took the early train for the mines. He could not help contrasting this with his first trip over the same road. Then, he was a stranger, with his entire work before him, uncertain of success in his undertaking; now, his preparatory work was nearly done, and though the most difficult part of his task yet remained, he felt that success was sure. But the contrast which to him seemed, most striking, was in his own feelings, for though conscious of enemies and having no knowledge of the friends ready to assist him, he yet felt a certain pleasure in returning to the mines, as though returning home; and he realized as never before, that hidden away in the heart of the mountains was the source from which henceforth must flow all his earthly happiness.

Arriving at the office, they found no one there, and Houston immediately began an attack upon the work accumulated during his absence, while Mr. Blaisdell proceeded to the mills and mines.

On his way he met Haight, and the subject of the unsuccessful mining deal was at once taken up.

"They simply wrote that the property was not what they wanted, and that they had found what they were looking for elsewhere," said Mr. Blaisdell in explanation.

"They seemed well enough satisfied when they were here," remarked Haight.

"That was my impression," said Mr. Blaisdell, "but Rivers seems to think differently. He says he was suspicious of them all the time, because they said nothing one way or another, after seeing the property; but my impression was that they were very well pleased."

"Certainly," answered Haight, who always made it a practice to have his opinions coincide with those expressed by the person with whom he happened to be talking, especially if it were for his interest to do so; "everything seemed satisfactory as far as I could judge. It is my opinion, Mr. Blaisdell, and has been for some time, that something must have been said by some one to prejudice those people against the mine; that is the only way I could account for the deal falling through as it did."

"But who was there to say anything prejudicial? We were all interested in selling the mine."

"I don't care to call any names, Mr. Blaisdell, but I don't think it best to take people into our confidence till we are pretty sure of them."

"Oh, you allude to Mr. Houston, but you are mistaken there; why, Haight, that fellow is working for our interests, and he has saved the company considerable money already in the way he has straightened the books and detected crooked work; he's going to be invaluable."

"He'll work for our interests just as long as it is for his interest to do so, but I imagine anybody could buy him off pretty easy. He's one of your swells; see how he dresses and what hightoned notions he has for a man in his position, and then tell me he wouldn't take a little tip on the outside if he got a chance."

"I think you are mistaken," said Mr. Blaisdell slowly, "still, of course, there might be something in what you say; I'll think it over," and the subject was dropped for that day.

Houston was very busy until nearly noon, but left the office a little earlier than usual, as he was anxious to meet Miss Gladden a few moments in advance of the others, if possible.

She was outside the porch, training some vines which she and Lyle had transplanted from among the rocks by the lake. Her back was toward the road, but hearing Houston's step, as he approached the house, she quickly turned, and in the depths of her luminous eyes he read a welcome that made his return seem more than ever like a home-coming. Clasping warmly the shapely little hand extended to him in greeting, he drew it within his arm, and having led her to a comfortable seat within the porch, he drew his own chair close beside her, where he could watch the lovely face, so classic and perfect in its beauty, and clothed, when animated, with a subtle, spirituelle radiance.

"You are very welcome," said Miss Gladden, as he seated himself, "we will all have to celebrate your return, for we have missed you very much. Have you been well?"

"Very well," replied Houston, smiling, "except for a touch of homesickness occasionally when I remembered our evenings among the mountains, or on the lake. It was fortunate that my evenings were so crowded with work, or the malady might have proved quite serious."

"Our evenings have not been nearly so pleasant without you," said Miss Gladden, "we were all becoming frightfully dull and vapid, but I think we will now recover our spirits."

"I have learned one thing," said Houston, "that it is not any particular place or surroundings that constitutes home for us, so much as the presence of those who are dear to us. Imagine how it would have seemed to me, three months ago, to have called this place 'home,' but it seems wonderfully home-like to me to-day."

"As to what constitutes a home, I am scarcely qualified to judge," said Miss Gladden, "for I hardly know what a home is; but my idea is, that any spot where my best loved ones were, would be home to me."

"And with such sentiments as those," Houston responded, "you would make any spot on earth home to those whom you loved."

"I should hope to," she replied, and added archly, "and if they loved me, I think I would succeed."

"I fear," said Houston, smiling, "that we are very old fashioned and far behind the spirit of modern times, which considers love of small account in the elements that constitute a home."

"I consider it an indispensable element, nevertheless," she replied, earnestly, "for I have seen too much of so-called homes where it did not exist, and they were not even successful imitations of the genuine article; their hollowness and wretchedness were only too apparent." She paused a moment, then continued:

"To me, the home seems like one of the old-time temples; a place to be kept sacred to peace and purity and love; from which the sin and strife of the outside world should be faithfully excluded; whose inmates, on entering, should leave behind all traces of the evil and discord of the outer world, as the Oriental leaves his dust-laden sandals at the door of his sanctuary."

"I have never known any other than such a home as that," said Houston, slowly, "and it is the only true home."

"Pardon me," said Miss Gladden, "but are your parents living? I have often wondered."

"No," he replied, "my parents died when I was a mere child, but the faint recollection of my early home, and the memory of my uncle's home, which has been mine also, correspond very closely with the picture you have just drawn."

"Then with you it is a reality," she answered, "but with me, only an ideal."

"Miss Gladden," said Houston very earnestly, but with great tenderness, "will you not let me help you to make a reality of your ideal?" Then, as she did not immediately reply, he continued, "The love that we believe in as the foundation of a true home, is not lacking on my part. I love you, Leslie, so much that life with you anywhere would seem perfect and complete, while life without you, even in a palace, would not seem worth the living. Can you love me enough to share my life and home, whatever it may be, as my wife?"

He had taken her hand, and she did not withdraw it, but looking in his face, she asked:

"Would you make me your wife, knowing so little of me as you do?"

"I think I know enough," he replied, "I know that you are a pure, true-hearted woman; I know that whether you love me or not," her eyes dropped, "there is no one you love better than me; and though I do not know it, I am almost sure that you do care for me in some degree, am I not right?"

She looked up into the face bending over her, and Houston read his answer in her eyes, and even had she tried to speak, he gave her no opportunity for doing so.

"To think of your conceit!" exclaimed Miss Gladden, a few moments later, "in having the assurance to say that I cared for no one more than you, whether I loved you or not; how did you ever come to make such an assertion?"

"Your eyes betrayed you," he answered, while she blushed, "they often tell tales, but I have noticed they always tell the truth, and I knew they would never have told me some secrets that they have, if there was any one else you cared for."

The sound of approaching footsteps interrupted their conversation, and brought them back to the common, every-day affairs of life, and turning, they saw Rutherford coming up the path from the lake, where he had gone for a stroll.

"Hello, Houston!" exclaimed the latter, catching a glimpse of his friend, "when did you come? Well, I'm awfully glad you've got back, we've missed you, old fellow, I can tell you."

"Welcome home!" said a sweet voice, and Houston saw the starry eyes and golden crowned head of Lyle framed in the door-way, and hastened to greet her. She met him with a woman's grace, and with a child's affection looking frankly out of her lovely eyes. After his brief absence, Houston was impressed by her beauty as never before. "I didn't know the child was so beautiful," he thought to himself, "I believe she grows lovelier every day, and she reminds me strangely of some one I have seen long ago."

"Oh, by the way," said Rutherford, as the friends seated themselves around the dinner table, "I've just received a letter from my brother, and he says he is coming out here."

"Your brother!" exclaimed Miss Gladden and Houston, "What! coming here among the mountains?"

"Yes," he replied, "he happened to be in New York when Van Dorn got back, and from his description of the place, and mine, he says he would like to see it. He is coming out to the coast by another route, and wants me to meet him in San Francisco, and then we will stop here on our return."

"Then you are coming back again," said Miss Gladden; "that will be lovely, and we will be delighted to meet your brother with you."

"Indeed we will," added Houston cordially, "what time do you expect to be here, Ned?"

"My brother wants to get here, he says, in about six or eight weeks, so it will probably be some time in August."

Lyle had said nothing, but had listened to the conversation, a thoughtful, far-away look stealing into her eyes; and the rest of the boarders arriving just then, nothing more was said on the subject.

Haight greeted Houston with his usual smiling politeness, but Morgan looked sullen, and Mr. Blaisdell was gloomy and taciturn. Haight's influence was working, and he could afford to smile. Lyle was quick to note the situation, and also to detect in Haight's face an expression of ill-concealed triumph, and as their eyes met, he read that in her face that boded no good to himself. _

Read next: Chapter 22

Read previous: Chapter 20

Table of content of Award of Justice; Told in the Rockies


GO TO TOP OF SCREEN

Post your review
Your review will be placed after the table of content of this book