Once fairly started on the road to health, Darrell gained marvellously.
Each day marked some new acquisition in physical health and muscular
vigor, while his systematic reading, the soothing influence of the music
to which he devoted a considerable time each day, and, more than all,
his growing intimacy with Mr. Britton, were doing much towards restoring
a better mental equipoise.
The race to which he had challenged Dr. Bradley took place on a frosty
morning early in November, Mr. Underwood himself measuring and marking
the course for the runners and Mr. Britton acting as starter. The result
was a victory for Darrell, who came out more than a yard ahead of his
opponent, somewhat to the chagrin of the latter, who had won quite a
local reputation as an athlete.
"You'll do," he said to Darrell, as he took leave a few moments later,
"but don't pose here as an invalid any longer, or I'll expose you as a
fraud. Understand, I cross your name off my list of patients to-day."
"But not off your list of friends, I hope," Darrell rejoined, as they
shook hands.
When Dr. Bradley had gone, Darrell turned to Mr. Britton, who was
standing near, saying, as his face grew serious,--
"Dr. Bradley is right; I'm no invalid now, and I must quit this idling.
I must find what I can do and go to work."
"All in good time," said Mr. Britton, pleasantly. "We'll find something
for you before I go from here. Meanwhile, I want to give you a little
pleasure-trip if you are able to take it. How would you like to go out
to the mines to-morrow with Mr. Underwood and myself? Do you think you
could 'rough it' with us old fellows for a couple of days?"
"You couldn't have suggested anything that would please me better,"
Darrell answered. "I would like the change, and it's time I was roughing
it. Perhaps when I get out there I'll decide to take a pick and shovel
and start in at the bottom of the ladder and work my way up."
"Is that necessary?" queried Mr. Britton, regarding the younger man with
close but kindly scrutiny. "Mr. Underwood tells me that you brought a
considerable amount of money with you when you came here, which he has
deposited to your credit."
Darrell met the penetrating gaze unwaveringly, as he replied, with quiet
decision, "That money may be mine, or it may not; it may have been given
me to hold in trust. In any event, it belongs to the past, and it will
remain where it is, intact, until the past is unveiled."
Mr. Britton looked gratified, as he remarked, in a low tone, "I don't
think you need any assurance, my boy, that I will back you with all the
capital you need, if you would like to start in business."
"No, Mr. Britton," said Darrell, deeply touched by the elder man's
kindness; "I know, without words, that I could have from you whatever I
needed, but it is useless for me to think of going into business with as
little knowledge of myself as I have at present. The best thing for me
is to take whatever work offers itself, until I find what I am fitted
for or to what I can best adapt myself."
The next morning found Darrell at an early hour on his way to the mining
camp with Mr. Underwood and Mr. Britton. The ground was white and
glistening with frost, and the sun, not yet far above the horizon, shone
with a pale, cold light, but Darrell, wrapped in a fur coat of Mr.
Underwood's, felt only the exhilarating effect of the thin, keen air,
and as the large, double-seated carriage, drawn by two powerful horses,
descended the pine-clad mountain and passed down one of the principal
streets of the little city, he looked about him with lively interest.
Leaving the town behind them, they soon began the ascent of a winding
canyon. After two or three turns, to Darrell's surprise, every sign of
human habitation vanished and only the rocky walls were visible, at
first low and receding, but gradually growing higher and steeper. On
they went, steadily ascending, till a turn suddenly brought the distant
mountains into closer proximity, and Mr. Britton, pointing to a lofty,
rugged range on Darrell's right, said,--
"There lies the Great Divide."
For two hours they wound steadily upward, the massive rocks towering on
all sides, barren, grotesque in form, but beautiful in coloring,--dull
reds, pale greens, and lovely blues and purples staining the sombre
grays and browns.
Darrell had grown silent, and his companions, supposing him absorbed in
the grandeur and beauty of the scenery, left him to his own reflections
while they talked on matters of interest to themselves.
But to Darrell the surrounding rocks were full of a strange, deep
significance. The colorings and markings in the gray granite were to him
what the insignia of the secret orders are to the initiated, replete
with mystical meaning. To him had come the sudden realization that he
was in Nature's laboratory, and in the hieroglyphics traced on the
granite walls he read the symbols of the mysterious alchemy silently and
secretly wrought beneath their surface. The vastness of the scale of
Nature's work, the multiplicity of her symbols, bewildered him, but in
his own mind he knew that he still held the key to this mysterious code,
and the knowledge thrilled him with delight. He gazed about him,
fascinated, saying nothing, but trembling with joy and with eagerness to
put himself to the test, and it was with difficulty that he controlled
his impatience till the long ride should come to an end.
At last they left the canyon and followed a steep road winding up the
side of a mountain, which, after an hour's hard climbing, brought them
to the mining camp. As the carriage stopped Darrell was the first to
alight, springing quickly to the ground and looking eagerly about him.
At a short distance beyond them the road was terminated by the large
milling plant, above which the mountain rose abruptly, its sides dotted
with shaft-houses and crossed and recrossed with trestle-work almost to
the summit. A wooden flume clung like a huge serpent to the steep
slopes, and a tramway descended from near the summit to the mill below.
At a little distance from the mill were the boarding-house and
bunk-houses, while in the foreground, near the road was the office
building, to which the party adjourned after exchanging greetings with
Mr. Hathaway, the superintendent, who had come out to meet them and to
whom Darrell was duly introduced. The room they first entered was the
superintendent's office. Beyond that was a pleasant reception-room,
while in the rear were the private rooms of the superintendent and the
assayer, who were not expected to share the bunk-houses with the miners.
Mr. Underwood and the superintendent at once proceeded to business, but
Mr. Britton, mindful of Darrell's comfort, ushered him into the
reception-room. A coal-fire was glowing in a small grate; a couch, three
or four comfortable chairs, and a few books and magazines contributed to
give the room a cosey appearance, but the object which instantly riveted
Darrell's attention was a large case, extending nearly across one side
of the room, filled with rare mineralogical and geological specimens.
There were quartz crystals gleaming with lumps of free-milling gold,
curling masses of silver and copper wire direct from the mines, gold
nuggets of unusual size and brilliancy, and specimens of ores from the
principal mines not only of that vicinity, but of the West.
Observing Darrell's interest in the contents of the case, Mr. Britton
threw open the doors for a closer inspection, and began calling his
attention to some of the finest specimens, but at Darrell's first
remarks he paused, astonished, listened a few moments, then stepping to
the next room, called Mr. Underwood. That gentleman looked somewhat
perturbed at the interruption, but at a signal from Mr. Britton,
followed the latter quietly across the room to where Darrell was
standing. Here they stood, silently listening, while Darrell,
unconscious of their presence, went rapidly through the specimens,
classifying the different ores, stating the conditions which had
contributed to their individual characteristics, giving the approximate
value of each and the mode of treatment required for its reduction; all
after the manner of a student rehearsing to himself a well-conned
lesson.
At last, catching sight of the astonished faces of his listeners, his
own lighted with pleasure, as he exclaimed, joyously,--
"I wanted to test myself and see if it would come back to me, and it
has! I believed it would, and it has!"
"What has come back to you?" queried Mr. Underwood, too bewildered
himself to catch the drift of Darrell's meaning.
"The knowledge of all this," Darrell answered, indicating the collection
with a swift gesture; "it began to come to me as soon as I saw the rocks
on our way up; it confused me at first, but it is all clear now. Take me
to your mill, Mr. Underwood; I want to see what I can do with the ores
there."
At that moment Mr. Hathaway entered to summon the party to dinner, and
seeing Darrell standing by the case, his hands filled with specimens, he
said, addressing Mr. Underwood with a pleasant tone of inquiry,--
"Mr. Darrell is a mining man?"
But Mr. Underwood was still too confused to answer intelligibly, and it
was Mr. Britton who replied, as he linked his arm within Darrell's on
turning to leave the room,--
"Mr. Darrell is a mineralogist."
At dinner Darrell found himself too excited to eat, so overjoyed was he
at the discovery of attainments he had not dreamed he possessed, and so
eager to put them to every test possible.
It had been Mr. Underwood's intention to visit the mines that afternoon,
but at Darrell's urgent request, they went first to the mill. Here he
found ample scope for his abilities. He fairly revelled in the various
ores, separating, assorting, and classifying them with the rapidity and
accuracy of an expert, and at once proceeded to assay some samples
taken from a new lead recently struck, the report of which had
occasioned this particular trip to the camp. He worked with a dexterity
and skill surprising in one of his years, producing the most accurate
results, to the astonishment and delight of both Mr. Underwood and Mr.
Britton.
After an extended inspection of the different departments of the large
milling plant, he was taken into a small laboratory, where the assayer
in charge was testing some of the recently discovered ore for the
presence of certain metals. After watching for a while in silence
Darrell said, turning to Mr. Underwood,--
"I can give you a quicker and a surer test than that!"
The assayer and himself at once exchanged places, and, unheeding the
many eyes fixed upon him, Darrell seated himself before the long table
and deftly began operations. Not a word broke the silence as by methods
wholly new to his spectators he subjected the ore to successive chemical
changes, until, within an incredibly short time, the presence of the
suspected metals was demonstrated beyond the shadow of a doubt.
"Mineralogist and metallurgist!" exclaimed Mr. Britton delightedly, as
he congratulated Darrell upon his success.
The short November day had now nearly drawn to a close, and after supper
the gentlemen adjourned to the office building, where they spent an hour
or more around the open fire. Darrell, who was quite wearied with the
unusual exertion and excitement of the day, retired early, the
superintendent and assayer had gone out on some business at the mill,
and Mr. Underwood and Mr. Britton were left together. No sooner were
they by themselves than Mr. Britton, who was walking up and down the
room, stopped beside his partner as he sat smoking and gazing
abstractedly into the fire, and, laying a hand on his shoulder, said,--
"Well, Dave, what do you think? After what we've seen to-day, can't you
make a place over there at the mill for the boy?"
"Hang it all!" answered the other, somewhat testily, secretly a little
jealous of the growing intimacy between his partner and Darrell;
"supposing I can, is there any need of your dipping in your oar about
it? Do you think I need any suggestion from you in the way of
befriending him or standing by him?"
"No, Dave," said Mr. Britton, pleasantly, dropping into a chair by Mr.
Underwood's side, "I did not put my question with a view of making any
suggestions. I know, and Darrell knows, that he hasn't a better friend
than you, and because I know this, and also because I am a friend to you
both, I was interested to ask you what you intended doing for him."
"What I intended doing for him and what I probably will actually do for
him are two altogether different propositions--all on account of his own
pig-headedness," was the rather surly response.
"How's that?" Mr. Britton inquired.
"Why, confound the fellow! I took a liking to him from the first, coming
here the way he did, and after what he did for Harry there was nothing I
wouldn't have done for him. Then, after his sickness, when we found his
memory had gone back on him and left him helpless as a child in some
ways, I knew he'd stand no show among strangers, and my idea was to take
him in, in Harry's place, give him a small interest in the business
until he got accustomed to it, and then after a while let him in as
partner. But when I broached the subject to him, a week ago or so, he
wouldn't hear to it; said he'd rather find some work for which he was
adapted and stick to that, at a regular salary. I told him he was
missing a good thing, but nothing that I could say would make any
difference."
"Well," said Mr. Britton, slowly, "I'm not sure but his is the wiser
plan. You must remember, Dave, that his stay with us will probably be
but temporary. Whenever that portion of his brain which is now dormant
does awaken, you can rest assured he will not remain here long. He no
doubt realizes this and wishes to be absolutely foot-loose, ready to
leave at short notice. And as to the financial side of the question, if
you give him the place in your mill for which he is eminently fitted, it
will be fully as remunerative in the long run as the interest in the
business which you intended giving him."
"What place in the mill do you refer to?" Mr. Underwood asked, quickly.
"Oh, I'm not making any 'suggestions,' Dave; you don't need them." And
Mr. Britton smiled quietly into the fire.
"Go ahead and say your say, Jack," said the other, his own face relaxing
into a grim smile; "that was only a bit of my crankiness, and you know
me well enough to know it."
"Give him the position of assayer in charge."
"Great Scott! and fire Benson, who's been there for five years?"
"It makes no difference how long he's been there. Darrell is a better
man every way,--quicker, more accurate, more scientific. You can put
Benson to sorting and weighing ores down at the ore-bins."
After a brief silence Mr. Britton continued, "You couldn't find a better
man for the place or a better position for the man. The work is
evidently right in the line of his profession, and therefore congenial;
and even though you should pay him no more salary than Benson, that,
with outside work in the way of assays for neighboring camps, will be
better than any business interest you would give him short of twelve or
eighteen months at least."
"I guess you're right, and I'll give him the place; but hang it all! I
did want to put him in Harry's place. You and I are getting along in
years, Jack, and it's time we had some young man getting broke to the
harness, so that after a while he could take the brunt of things and let
us old fellows slack up a bit."
"We could not expect that of Darrell," said Mr. Britton. "He is neither
kith nor kin of ours, and when once Nature's ties begin to assert
themselves in his mind, we may find our hold upon him very slight."
Both men sighed deeply, as though the thought had in some way touched an
unpleasant chord. After a pause, Mr. Britton inquired,--
"You have no clue whatever as to Darrell's identity, have you?"
Mr. Underwood shook his head. "Queerest case I ever saw! There wasn't a
scrap of paper nor a pen-mark to show who he was. Parkinson, the mine
expert who was on the same train, said he didn't remember seeing him
until Harry introduced him; he said he supposed he was some friend of
Harry's. Since his sickness I've looked up the conductor on that train
and questioned him, but all he could remember was that he boarded the
train a little this side of Galena and that he had a ticket through from
St. Paul."
"You say this Parkinson was a mine expert; what was he doing out here?"
"He was one of three or four that were here at that time, looking up the
Ajax for eastern parties."
"In all probability," said Mr. Britton, musingly, "Darrell was here on
the same business."
"If that was his business, he said nothing about it to me, and I would
have thought he would, under the circumstances."
"I wonder whether we could ascertain from the owners of the Ajax what
experts were out here or expected out here at that time?"
Mr. Underwood smiled grimly. "Not from the former owners, for nobody
knows where they are, though there are some people quite anxious to
know; and not from the present owners, for they are too busy looking for
their predecessors in interest to think of anything else."
"Why, has the Ajax really changed owners? Did they find any one to buy
it?"
"Yes, a Scotch syndicate bought it. They sent over a man--one of their
own number, I believe, and authorized to act for them--that I guess knew
more about sampling liquors than ores. The Ajax people worked him
accordingly, with the result that the mine was sold at the figure
named,--one million, half down, you know. The man rushed back to New
York, to meet a partner whom he had cabled to come over. About ten days
later they arrived on the ground and began operations at the Ajax. The
mill ran for just ten days when they discovered the condition of affairs
and shut down, and they have been looking for the former owners ever
since."
Both men laughed, then relapsed into silence. A little later, as Mr.
Britton stirred the fire to a brighter glow, he said, while the tender
curves about his mouth deepened,--
"I cannot help feeling that the coming to us of this young man, whose
identity is wrapped in so much mystery, has some peculiar significance
to each of us. I believe that in some way, whether for good or ill I
cannot tell, his life is to be henceforth inseparably linked with our
own lives. He already holds, as you know, a place in each of our hearts
which no stranger has held before, and I have only this to say, David,
old friend, that our mutual regard for him, our mutual efforts for his
well-being, must never lead to any estrangement between ourselves. We
have been stanch friends for too many years for any one at this late
date to come between us; and you must never envy me my little share in
the boy's friendship."
The two men had risen and now stood before the fire with clasped hands.
"I was an old fool to-night, Jack; that was all," said Mr. Underwood,
rather gruffly. "I haven't the knack of saying things that you
have,--never had,--but I'm with you all the time."
On the forenoon of the following day Darrell was shown the underground
workings of the various mines, not excepting the Bird Mine, located
almost at the summit of the mountain. This was the newest mine in camp,
but, in proportion to its development, the best producer of all.
After an early dinner there was a private meeting in the reception-room
beyond the office, at which were present only Mr. Underwood, Mr.
Britton, and Darrell, and at which Mr. Underwood duly tendered to
Darrell the position of assayer in charge at the Camp Bird mill, which
the latter accepted with a frank and manly gratitude which more than
ever endeared him to the hearts of his two friends. In this little
proceeding Mr. Britton purposely took no part, standing before the
grate, his back towards the others, gazing into the fire as though
absorbed in his own thoughts. When all was over, however, he
congratulated Darrell with a warmth and tenderness which filled both the
heart and the eyes of the latter to overflowing. That night, after their
arrival at The Pines, as Mr. Britton and Darrell took their accustomed
stroll, the latter said,--
"Mr. Britton, I feel that I have you to thank for my good fortune of
to-day. You had nothing to say when Mr. Underwood offered me that
position, but, nevertheless, I believe the offer was made at your
suggestion. It was, in reality, your kindness, not his."
"You are partly right and partly wrong," replied Mr. Britton, smiling.
"Never doubt Mr. Underwood's kindness of heart towards yourself. If I
had any part in that affair, it was only to indicate the channel in
which that kindness should flow."
Together they talked of the strange course of events which had finally
brought him and the work for which he was especially adapted together.
"Do you know," said Mr. Britton, as they paused on the veranda before
entering the house, "I am no believer in accident. I believe that of the
so-called 'happenings' in our lives, each has its appointed time and
mission; and it is not for us to say which is trivial or which is
important, until, knowing as we are known, we look back upon life as God
sees it."
_Chapter VIII_
"UNTIL THE DAY BREAK"
A week later Darrell was duly installed at the mining camp. Mr. Britton
had already left, called on private business to another part of the
State. After his departure, life at The Pines did not seem the same to
Darrell. He sorely missed the companionship--amounting almost to
comradeship, notwithstanding the disparity of their years--which had
existed between them from their first meeting, and he was not sorry when
the day came for him to exchange the comfort and luxury with which the
kindness of Mr. Underwood and his sister had surrounded him for the
rough fare and plain quarters of the mining camp.
Mrs. Dean, when informed of Darrell's position at the camp, had most
strenuously objected to his going, and had immediately stipulated that
he was to return to The Pines every Saturday and remain until Monday.
"Of course he's coming home every Saturday, and as much oftener as he
likes," her brother had interposed. "This is his home, and he
understands it without any words from us."
On the morning of his departure he realized as never before the depth of
the affection of his host and hostess for himself, manifesting itself as
it did in silent, unobtrusive acts of homely but heartfelt kindness. As
the storing of Darrell's belongings in the wagon which was to convey him
to the camp was about completed, Mrs. Dean appeared, carrying a large,
covered basket, with snow-white linen visible between the gaping edges
of the lids. This she deposited within the wagon, saying, as she turned
to Darrell,--
"There's a few things to last you through the week, just so you don't
forget how home cooking tastes."
And at the last moment there was brought from the stables at Mr.
Underwood's orders, for Darrell's use in going back and forth between
The Pines and the camp, a beautiful bay mare which had belonged to Harry
Whitcomb, and which, having sadly missed her young master, greeted
Darrell with a low whinny, muzzling his cheek and nosing his pockets for
sugar with the most affectionate familiarity.
It was a cold, bleak morning. The ground had frozen after a heavy rain,
and the wagon jolted roughly over the ruts in the canyon road, making
slow progress. The sky was overcast and straggling snowflakes wandered
aimlessly up and down in the still air.
Darrell, from his seat beside the driver, turned occasionally to speak
to Trix, the mare, fastened to the rear end of the wagon and daintily
picking her way along the rough road. Sometimes he hummed a bit of
half-remembered song, but for the most part he was silent. While not
attempting any definite analysis of his feelings, he was distinctly
conscious of conflicting emotions. He was deeply touched by the kindness
of Mr. Underwood and Mrs. Dean, and felt a sort of self-condemnation
that he was not more responsive to their affection. He knew that their
home and hearts were alike open to him; that he was as welcome as one of
their own flesh and blood; yet he experienced a sense of relief at
having escaped from the unvarying kindliness for which, at heart, he was
profoundly grateful. Even late that night, in the solitude of his
plainly furnished room, with the wind moaning outside and the snow
tapping with muffled fingers against the window pane, he yet exulted in
a sense of freedom and happiness hitherto unknown in the brief period
which held all he recalled of life.
The ensuing days and weeks passed pleasantly and swiftly for Darrell. He
quickly familiarized himself with the work which he had in charge, and
frequently found leisure, when his routine work was done, for
experiments and tests of his own, as well as for outside work which came
to him as his skill became known in neighboring camps. His evenings were
well filled, as he had taken up his old studies along the lines of
mineralogy and metallurgy, pushing ahead into new fields of research and
discovery, studying by night and experimenting by day. Meanwhile, the
rocky peaks around him seemed beckoning him with their talismanic signs,
as though silently challenging him to learn the mighty secrets for ages
hidden within their breasts, and he promised himself that with the
return of lengthening days, he would start forth, a humble learner, to
sit at the feet of those great teachers of the centuries. He had
occasional letters from Mr. Britton, cheering, inspiring, helpful, much
as his presence had been, and in return he wrote freely of his present
work and his plans for future work.
Sometimes, when books were closed or the plaintive tones of the violin
had died away in silence, he would sit for hours pondering the strange
problem of his own life; watching, listening for some sign from out the
past; but neither ray of light nor wave of sound came to him. His
physician had told him that some day the past would return, and that the
intervening months or years as the case might be, would then doubtless
be in turn forgotten, and as he revolved this in his mind he formed a
plan which he at once proceeded to put into execution.
On his return one night from a special trip to Ophir he went to his room
with more than usual haste, and opening a package in which he seemed
greatly interested, drew forth what appeared to be a book, about eleven
by fifteen inches in size, bound in flexible morocco and containing some
five or six hundred pages. The pages were blank, however, and bound
according to an ingenious device which he had planned and given the
binder, by which they could be removed and replaced at will, and, if
necessary, extra pages could be added.
For some time he stood by the light, turning the volume over and over
with an expression of mingled pleasure and sadness; then removing some
of the pages, he sat down and prepared to write. The new task to which
he had set himself was the writing of a complete record, day by day, of
this present life of his, beginning with the first glimmerings of
memory, faint and confused, in the earliest days of his convalescence at
The Pines. He dipped his pen, then hesitated; how should this strange
volume be inscribed?
Only for a moment; then his pen was gliding rapidly over the spotless
surface, and the first page, when laid aside, bore the following
inscription:
"To one from the outer world, whose identity is hidden among the
secrets of the past:
"With the hope that when the veil is lifted these pages may assist
him in uniting into one perfect whole the strangely disjointed
portions of his life, they are inscribed by
"JOHN DARRELL."