LITMIR.BIZ

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upper snows, and the man's blood cried out for a fire (June stands close to winter in the high ranges of the Crestones), and at last he rose stiffly and returned to the little sitting-room, where he found the widow in the midst of an argument with her boarders to prove that they were all fools together for hangin' to the side of a mountain that had no more gould in it than a flatiron or a loomp o' coal – sure thing!

      "What you goin' to do about our assays?" asked young Johnson.

      "Assays, is it? Annybody can have assays – that will pay the price. Ye're all lazy dogs in the manger, that's phwat ye air. Ye assay and want somebody else to pay ye fer the privilege of workin'. Why don't ye work yer-silves – ye loots? Sit around here expectin' some wan ilse to shovel gould into yer hat. Ye'll pay me yer board – moind that," she ended, making a personal application of her theories; "ivery wan o' ye."

      If any lingering resolution remained in Bidwell's heart it melted away as he listened to Mrs. Delaney's throaty voice and plain, blunt words. Opening the door timidly, he walked in and without looking at the angry woman seized upon his bundles, which lay behind the door.

      The widow's voice rang out: "Where ye gawun wid thim bags?"

      Bidwell straightened. "They're my bundles, I reckon. Can't a man do as he likes with his own?"

      "Not whin he's owin' fer board. Put thim boondles down!"

      The culprit sighed and sat down on the bundles. Even young Johnson lost his desire to laugh, for Bidwell looked pathetically old and discouraged at the moment, as he mildly asked:

      "You wouldn't send a man out in the night without his blankets, would you?"

      "I'd send a sneak to purgatory – if I c'u'd. Ye thought ye'd ooze out, did ye? Nice speciment you are!"

      Bidwell was roused. "If I had planned to sneak I wouldn't 'a' come into the room with you a-standin' in the middle of the floor," he replied, with some firmness. "You ordered me out, didn't you? Well, I'm goin'. I can't pay you – you knew that when you told me to go – and I owe you a good deal – I admit that – but I'm going to pay it. But I must have a little time."

      The other men, with a grateful sense of delicacy, got up and went out, leaving Bidwell free space to justify himself in the eyes of the angry woman.

      As the door slammed behind the last man the widow walked over and gave Bidwell a cuff. "Get off thim boondles. Gaw set on a chair like a man, an' not squat there like a baboon." She pitched his bundles through an open door into a small bedroom. "Ye know where yer bed is, I hope! I do' know phwat Dan Delaney w'u'd say to me, housin' and feedin' the likes o' you, but I'll do it wan more summer – and then ye gaw flyin'. Ye hear that now!"

      And she threw the door back on its hinges so sharply that a knob was broken.

      Bidwell went in, closed the door gently, and took to his bed, dazed with this sudden change in the climate. "She's come round before – and surprised me," he thought, "but never so durn sudden as this. I hope she ain't sick or anything."

      Next morning at breakfast Maggie was all smiles. The storm of the evening before had given place to brilliant sunshine. She ignored all winks and nudgings among her boarders, and did not scruple to point out to Bidwell the choicest biscuit on the plate, and to hand him the fattest slice of bacon, all of which he accepted without elation.

      "Old Sherm must be one o' these hypnotical chaps," said Johnson as they were lighting their pipes in the sitting-room. "He's converted the widow into another helping. He's goin' to get his flour and bacon all right!"

      "You bet he is, and anything else he wants. Beats me what she finds in that old side-winder, anyhow."

      "Oh, Sherm isn't so worse if he had a decent outfit."

      Bidwell was deeply touched by Maggie's clemency, and would have put his feelings into the best terms he was familiar with, but the widow stopped him.

      "The best way to thank me is to hustle out and trail up that flo-at. If it's there, find it. If it's not there, give o'er the search, for ye are a gray man, Sherm Bidwell, and I'm not the woman I was eight years ago."

      In the exaltation of the moment Bidwell rose, and his shoulders were squared as he said: "I'm a-goin', Maggie. If I find it I'll come back and marry you. If I don't – I'll lay my useless old bones in the hills."

      "Ah – go 'long! Don't be a crazy fool!" she said, but her face flushed with pleasure at the sincerity of his tone. "Ye've made such promises ivery time before."

      "I know I have, but I mean it now."

      "Aho! so that's the way of it – ye didn't mean it before? Is that phwat ye're sayin'?"

      His proud pose collapsed. "You know what I mean – only you're such a tormentin' little devil."

      "Thank ye for the compliment, Mr. Bidwell."

      Bidwell turned. "I'm going after old Nebuchadnezzar," he said, firmly. "I can't waste time on a chicken-headed woman – "

      "Out wid ye before I break the measly head of ye!" she retorted.

      An hour later, with his mule packed with food and blankets and tools, he moved off up the trail. The other men stood to watch him go, consumed with curiosity, yet withholding all question.

      The widow did not so much as look from the door as her grub-staker disappeared.

II

      Three days later Bidwell crept stealthily down the trail, leading his mule as silently as possible. He timed his arrival so that Mrs. Delaney would be in the kitchen alone with the Chinaman, getting the dishes ready for breakfast.

      "Who is ut?" called the widow as he softly knocked.

      "Me – Sherm," he replied.

      "Saints in hevin! What's the matter? Are ye sick?" she gasped as she flung the door open.

      "'Sh! Don't speak so loud," he commanded. "Sit down; I want to speak solemn-like to you."

      His tone impressed her deeply. "Have ye struck ut?" she asked, tremulously.

      "I hain't found it yet, but I want to tell ye – I believe I've had a hunch. Send the 'chink' away."

      Something in his tone stopped all scornful words upon her lips. Ordering the Chinaman to bed, she turned and asked:

      "Phwat do ye mean? Spake, man!"

      "Well, sir, as I started up the trail something kept sayin' to me, 'Sherman, you're on the wrong track.' It was just as if you pulled my sleeve and nudged me and said, 'This way!' I couldn't sleep that night. I just lay on the ground and figured. Up there high – terrible high – are seams of ore – I know that – but they're in granite and hard to get at. That's one gold belt. There's money in a mine up there, but it will take money to get it. Then there's another gold belt down about here – or even lower – and I've just come to the conclusion that our mine, Maggie, is down here in the foot-hills, not on old Blanca."

      The air of mystery which enveloped and transformed the man had its effect on the woman. Her eyes opened wide.

      "Was it a voice like?"

      "No, it was more like a pull. Seemed to be pulling me to cross the creek where I found that chunk of porph'ritic limestone. I couldn't sleep the second night – and I've been in camp up there in Burro Park tryin' to figure it all out. I hated to give up and come back – I was afraid ye'd think I was weakening – but I can't help it. Now I'll tell you what I'm going to do – I'm going to make a camp over on the north side of the creek. I don't want the boys to know where I've gone, but I wanted you to know what I'm doing – I wanted you to know – it's plum ghostly – it scared me."

      She whispered, "Mebbe it's Dan."

      "I thought o' that. Him and me were always good friends, and he was in my mind all the while."

      "But howld on, Sherm; it may be the divil leadin' ye on to break y'r neck as did Dan. 'Twas over there he fell."

      "Well, I thought o' that, too. It's either Dan or the devil, and I'm going to find out which."

      "The saints go wid ye!" said the widow, all her superstitious fears aroused. "And if it

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