THE morning after the directors’ meeting, when Roderick awakened and
looked out of the window, he found the air filled with flakes of falling
snow. He wasted no time over his toilet. Immediately after breakfast he
bundled up snugly and warmly, went over to the livery stable and engaged
a team and a sleigh. Soon after, the horses decorated with the best
string of sleigh bells the livery could provide, he was holding the
reins taut and sailing down through the main street of the little mining
town headed for the country. He was going to the Shields ranch. Half a
dozen invitations had been extended him during the past weeks, and he
told himself he had been neglectful of his old employer.
When he reached the ranch and his team was duly stabled, the sleigh run
in out of the storm, he was cordially welcomed by the family before a
roaring fire of cheerfulness, and a multitude of questions were poured
upon him.
“Why did you not come sooner and what about Major Hampton and the
smelter? We have heard all sorts of wonderful things?”
“Why, what have you heard about the Major?” inquired Roderick,
endeavoring to get a lead to the things that had evoked such surprise.
“I will tell you,” said Barbara. “Papa heard of it the day before
yesterday when he was in town. The stockholders were having a meeting,
and people said it had turned out to the surprise of everyone that Major
Hampton was the owner of a control of the company’s stock.”
“Yes,” replied Roderick, “the rumor is correct. Great things have
indeed happened. But haven’t you heard from Ben Bragdon?”
“Not a word.”
“Well, I suppose he has been too busy reconstructing the by-laws
and the company’s affairs generally. Major Hampton has put him in as
attorney. There’s a financial plum for you, Miss Barbara.”
“And Mr. Carlisle?” she asked in great astonishment.
“Like W. B. Grady, he is down and out,” replied Roderick.
“There’s been a clean sweep. And behold in me a full-blossomed
member of the board of directors. Our chairman, the Major, has handed
me over a small library of books about smelting of ores, company
management, and so on. He tells me I’ve got to get busy and learn the
business—that I’m slated as vice-president and assistant manager,
or something of that kind. What do you think of all that, Mr. Shields?
There’s a rise in the world for your cowboy and broncho-buster of a
few months ago.”
The cattle king and all the others warmly congratulated Roderick on his
rising fortunes. Dorothy now took the lead in the conversation.
“You folks, keep still a moment until I ask Mr. Warfield just one
question,” she said eagerly.
“Oh,” exclaimed Roderick, quickly, “I can answer the question. No,
Grant Jones has not been over to Encampment for quite a while.”
A general laugh followed.
“He has a devil over at his office,” added Roderick gravely.
“A what?” they exclaimed.
“A devil. You surely know what a devil in a printing office is? It is
a young fellow who washes the ink from the rolls and cleans the type or
something of that sort—sweeps out, makes fires and does a wholesale
janitor business. If he is faithful for fifteen or twenty years, then
he learns to set type and becomes a printer. Grant is breaking his new
devil in. Scotty Meisch, formerly one of your father’s cowboys, is his
name.”
“Oh, little Scotty,” exclaimed Barbara. “I remember him.”
“Well, does that necessarily keep Grant away?” asked Dorothy.
“Oh, no, he is not necessarily kept away. He is probably a believer,
Miss Dorothy, that absence makes the heart grow fonder.’ I was very
disappointed,” Roderick went hurriedly on, smiling, “that Grant was
not in town to share the sleigh with me in coming over this morning. Of
course he doesn’t know it yet, but he also has been elected as one of
the directors of the Encampment Mine and Smelter Company.”
“He has?” exclaimed Dorothy, her face lighting: “My word, but
he’ll be all puffed up, won’t he?”
“Oh, no,” replied Roderick, “Grant is a very sensible fellow and
he selects his friends and associates with marked discrimination.”
“Well, that’s what I think,” concurred Dorothy emphatically.
She was not a little embarrassed by a second ebullition of general
laughter. There was a flush of rising color on her pretty cheeks.
“Well, I don’t care,” she added bravely. “If I like anybody I
let them know about it, and that’s all there is to be said.”
While luncheon was in progress, Roderick suggested that as the sleighing
was very good and his sleigh a very large one—the seat exceedingly
wide—the young ladies should come sleigh-riding with him in the
afternoon.
“Splendid,” shouted the sisters in unison. “Certainly, we will be
delighted provided mother has no objections.”
“Oh, no,” said Mrs. Shields, good-naturedly. “This first snow of
the season makes me feel like having a sleigh-ride myself. But, there,
your seat certainly won’t take four of us, and I know that Mr. Shields
is too busy to think of getting out his sleigh this afternoon.”
“Well, I’LL tell you what I’ll do, Mrs. Shields,” said Roderick,
stirring his coffee. “I’ll take you for a ride first. We will go as
far as the river and back again, and then if the young ladies are real
good why of course I’ll give them the next spin.”
“Oh, no,” said Mrs. Shields, “you young people go on and have your
sleigh ride and a good time.”
“No,” objected Barbara. “You shall have the first sleigh ride,
Mama, and if you don’t go then Dorothy and I stay at home.”
“Come now, Mrs. Shields,” urged Roderick, “accept my invitation,
for I see if you don’t I shall not be able to persuade the young
ladies to come.”
“Yes, Mother,” said Dorothy, “it is just lovely of him to invite
you, and certainly the sleigh ride will be invigorating. The truth is,
we girls will enjoy the ride afterwards doubly if we know you have had
the first ride of the season before we have ours.”
“Very well,” said Mrs. Shields, “since you all insist, so let it
be.”
Soon after Roderick’s team was hitched to the sleigh and came jingling
down to the front gate. Mrs. Shields was tucked snugly in under the
robes and away they dashed with sleigh bells jingling, down the road
towards the Platte River several miles away.
When they got back Barbara and Dorothy were in readiness, and Roderick
started away with them amid much merry laughter and promises from the
girls to be home when they got home but not before. The snow was still
falling in great big flakes and the cushion beneath the runners was soft
and thick. Mile followed mile, and it was late in the afternoon when the
sleighing party found themselves in Encampment. Roderick insisted that
the young ladies should have supper at the Hotel Bonhomme; they would
start on the return trip home immediately afterwards.
When the sleigh drove up to the hotel, who should be looking out of the
front door but Grant Jones? He rushed outside and assisted the sisters
to alight.
“I will be back in a few minutes,” shouted Roderick, as he dashed
away to the livery stable.
“Say, Joe,” said Roderick while the horses were being unhitched,
“I will want the rig again after dinner, and Grant Jones will also
want a sleigh.”
“All right,” replied the stableman. “I can fix him out all right
and everything will be in readiness. Just telephone and I’ll send the
rip over to the hotel.”
At the dinner table Grant Jones was at his best. He had already heard
about the Smelter Company affairs and his own election as a director,
and waved the topic aside. It was the surprise of seeing Dorothy that
filled him with good-humor and joviality. As the meal progressed he
turned to Roderick and said: “Oh, yes, Roderick, I’ve just been
hearing from Scotty Meisch that during the summer months you learned to
be a great trout fisherman.”
“Yes,” replied Roderick with a smile, “I certainly had a great
trout-fishing experience.”
“Where?” asked Barbara quickly.
“On the South Fork of the Encampment River.”
“Now, Mr. Roderick Warfield,” said Barbara quite emphatically, “I
invited you to go trout fishing with me a good many times, and you told
me I should be the one to teach you the gentle art. Instead of this you
go away and learn to catch trout all alone. How many did you catch?”
Roderick reddened with embarrassment.
“Twenty-six,” he said.
“Well, that was a pretty good catch for a novice. How big were
they?”
“About two pounds,” Roderick answered, absent-mindedly.
Grant Jones was fairly choking with laughter. “I say, Barbara,” he
began.
“I didn’t go trout fishing alone,” interrupted Roderick quickly.
“Look here, Barbara,” persisted Grant, calling to her across the
table. But Barbara was all attention to Roderick.
“Who went with you?” she inquired.
“Miss Gail Holden,” he replied and his face was actually crimson.
Barbara laid down her knife and fork and leaned back in her chair,
placed her arms akimbo with her pretty hands on her slender waist line,
and looked at Roderick as if she were an injured child. Finally she
said: “Trifler!” Then everybody laughed at Roderick’s confusion.
But he quickly recovered himself.
“Trifler yourself!” he laughed back in rejoinder. “What about Ben
Bragdon? What would he have said had we gone trout-fishing together?”
“You were not out of the running then,” said Barbara archly.
“Oh, yes, I was, although the secret was to be kept until after the
nomination for senator.”
It was Barbara’s turn now to blush. She looked around in some
bewilderment. Grant had bestowed a vigorous kick on Roderick’s shins
beneath the table. Only then did Roderick realize that he had broken
a confidence. Dorothy was eyeing Grant reproachfully. It was a case of
broken faith all round.
“Well, you sisters have no secrets from each other,” exclaimed
Roderick, meeting the situation with a bright smile. “In just the
same way Grant and I are chums and brothers. Besides it was a friendly
warning. I was saved in time from the danger of shattered hopes and a
broken heart, Miss Barbara.”
“So went fishing for consolation,” she replied with a smile.
“And found it,” laughed Grant.
“Who says that?” demanded Roderick, sternly. “Miss Holden would
have every reason seriously to object.”
“The devil says it,” replied Grant, assuming a grave countenance.
“That’s a poor joke,” said Roderick, offended.
“Oh, Scotty Meisch is an observant lad,” remarked the editor drily.
“The printer’s devil!” cried Dorothy, clapping her hands. And
all four laughed heartily—Roderick most heartily of all despite his
momentary dudgeon.
“Then since all these whispers are going about,” remarked Barbara
when quiet was restored, “I think it will be advisable for me to have
a heart-to-heart talk with Gail.”
“Oh, please don’t,” faltered Roderick. “Really, you know,
there’s no foundation for all this talk—all this nonsense.”
“Indeed? Then all the more need for me to drop her a friendly
warning—guard her against shattered hopes and a broken heart and all
that sort of thing.”
The tables were fairly turned, but Barbara, with quick woman’s wit,
saw that Roderick was really pained at the thought lest Gail Holden
might learn of this jesting with her name.
“Oh, don’t be afraid,” she said, reassuringly. “We three will
keep your secret, young man. We are all chums and brothers, aren’t we
now?” And with one accord, laughing yet serious too, they all shook
hands to seal the bond, and any breaches of confidence in the past were
forgiven and forgotten.
It had been a merry supper party, but it was now time to be starting
for the ranch. As they rose from the table Roderick turned to Grant and
said: “You will have to excuse me, old boy, as I am taking the ladies
home.”
“Taking the ladies home? Well, ain’t I goin’ along?” asked
Grant, with a doleful look at Dorothy.
“No room in our sleigh,” said Roderick coldly.
“Roderick,” said Grant, half sotto voce, “you are cruel.”
But Roderick was unsympathetic and did not even smile. He turned away
indifferently. Drawing Barbara aside, he told her in an undertone of the
arrangements he had made with the livery stable for an extra sleigh.
“Then you’ll be alone with me,” she said, with an amused smile.
“Won’t you be afraid? Broken heart, etc?”
“Not now,” he replied sturdily.
“Or of Mr. Bragdon? He mightn’t like it, you know.”
“Oh, I’m not afraid of him,” laughed Roderick. “And I guess he
will trust me—and you,” he added gently and with a chivalrous little
bow.
Shortly the sleighs were brought round to the hotel. Grant was beside
himself with delight when he discovered the extra rig for himself and
Dorothy, and he laughingly shouted to Roderick: “I say, old man,
you’re the best ever.” Soon the merrymakers were tucked snugly
beneath the lap robes, and were speeding over the glistening expanse of
snow to the joyous tinkle of the silver bells.