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HE next [86] morning Vance was up at an early hour for a morning walk.
He followed the winding road up the hill-side toward Gray Rocks. The
air was fresh and invigorating; the sun was just rising over the eastern
mountains. Robins and mountain thrushes were twittering gaily their
morning songs. He mentally compared the stifled life so prevalent in the
great cities to the healthful and exhilarating prospect about him.
A shadow flitted across his mind. It was J. Arthur Boast’s inquiry in
regard to Louise Bonifield. “But why should I be so ready to come
to her rescue? What right have I to be her champion? They may be old
acquaintances, but they certainly are not friends. She is too noble a
character to form an alliance of friendship with such an individual
as Boast. He is critical, cold, calculating, and, I believe,
unprincipled.”
Walking on in an aimless way, he followed a path that led by Gray Rocks
on toward the Peacock. Presently he saw a well-dressed man in middle
life walking toward him. There was an unmistakable look of good living
and prosperity—a general air of superiority about him. His round, fat
face was smooth shaven, except a [87] bristly dark moustache. His nose
was large and obtrusive. In his shirt front glistened a diamond of great
value, while its counterpart reflected the morning sun from a massive
ring on one of his fat, short fingers.
“Good morning,” said he.
0095
Vance returned the salutation, and presently the pompous stranger
introduced himself as Rufus Grim, owner of the Peacock.
“Yes, I have heard of you,” replied Vance.
[88] “You’re the young man from New York, I reckon,” said Grim.
“New York is my home.”
“Yes, I have heard about you. I rather expected you over to see me.
I assure you, Mr. Gilder,” he went on, “it would afford me great
pleasure to show you through the Peacock. She is a fine piece of
property, I can tell you; none better. If you’ll walk down this way a
little we can see the old prospect shaft where the precious metal of the
Peacock was first discovered.”
Vance readily consented, and presently they came to an old, open shaft
near the brow of the mountain overlooking the village of Gold Bluff and
the valley below.
“Here,” said Rufus Grim, with a wave of his fat hand, “is where
I commenced prospecting fifteen years ago. I was one of the pioneers
in this mining camp. Sometimes I did not know where the next meal was
coming from, but I worked on, day after day; first for wages, and then
for an interest in what, at the time, was looked upon as a labor and
money losing investment. I stuck to it; the other fellows didn’t.
Finally I bought out the other fellows, and if you have heard very much
about the history of Gold Bluff and the prosperity of her mines,
of course you have heard about me. In fact,” he said, with vulgar
braggadocio, “the history of the Peacock and my own are so interwoven
that you couldn’t very well hear of one and not know all about the
other.”
“Yes,” replied Vance, “I have heard a great deal of you. Mr. Grim,
and am delighted to have the pleasure of knowing you personally.”
“Yes, I presume,” [89] said Grim, as he looked away toward the
valley that nestled beneath their feet, “I presume you’ve heard a
great deal about Rufus Grim that is not true, and precious little to my
credit. I have not a doubt but what the busy-bodies of Gold Bluff have
told you that old, worn-out story about Steve Gibbons and Hank Casey,
and how unjustly I treated them; but I can tell you,” he continued
with warmth, “there’s not a word of truth in all that you may have
heard. No, sir, I have climbed the ladder step by step and built up
my own fortune, and whatever I am to-day, I have nobody to thank but
myself.”
“I assure you,” said Vance, “I have heard nothing particularly
to your discredit. In fact, I have heard next to nothing at all,
except that you were the owner of the Peacock, and that it is a paying
property.”
Rufus Grim looked at Vance at first as if he doubted him, and then
expressed his surprise that no one had told him what a mean man he was.
“If you get acquainted with that young scoundrel, Boast, he’ll tell
you quick enough—a miserable story; how I cheated Casey and Gibbons
out of their share of the mine; but I say it’s false,” he continued,
as he brought his fat hands down together, “not a word of truth in any
of their statements. No, sir. You see,” he went on, turning to the
old prospect shaft, “I have put a wall around this so that it may be
preserved. It gratifies me to come here occasionally and think over the
hard times of my prospecting life and the change that has come. It came,
sir, because I made it come. Yonder is my home,” said he, waving his
hand toward an elegant residence located in the suburbs of the village,
with beautiful grounds about it. “If there is any better in the Fish
River mining district, I don’t know it.”
[90] “You’re home,” said Vance, “is certainly a lovely looking
place.”
“You are at liberty,” said Grim “to come and see me whenever
you desire. I can’t promise you more than this, that you will be
welcome.” Grim made this last remark as if he was bestowing a great
favor upon a stranger within the gates of Gold Bluff; indeed, one might
have imagined him Lord Mayor of some municipality granting the freedom
of the city to some favored guest.
Vance thanked him for the invitation. With a stately bow to Vance, Grim
turned and walked toward the works on the Peacock, and Vance returned
to the hotel refreshed from his walk, and interested in the fragments of
the story he had heard from the owner of the Peacock.
At the appointed hour he called for Louise, and, together, they walked
briskly toward Silver Point Lake.
Louise was [91] all animation and life, and thought nothing of the two
miles’ walk which lay before them.
9098
Indeed, she had followed these mountain paths from her early childhood,
and felt less fatigue after a tramp of a half-dozen miles than many a
city belle after walking a half-dozen blocks.
It might be well to explain that Louise’s mother was a lady of great
culture and refinement, and belonged to one of the oldest families of
Baltimore. She died when Louise was only four years old. A spinster
sister of Colonel Bonifield tried to persuade her brother to give up his
daughters while he was leading a life in the mountains, and let than
be reared to womanhood at the old Bonifield home in Virginia, but Ben
Bonifield could not do this. The loss of his wife was a severe blow, and
to part with his daughters, Virginia and Louise, could not be thought
of. Therefore, Aunt Sully had accepted her brother’s invitation to
make her home in the mountains, and take upon herself the care and
training of her brother’s children.
Aunt Sally was a lady in the olden time possessed of uncommon gifts
and a finished education, not only in classical literature, but also in
music and painting. Louise had proven a more apt scholar than her elder
sister, Virginia. Aunt Sally had been a most painstaking instructress,
and her wards had grown up with minds enriched and cultured, while
their physical development was in keeping with the wild freedom of a
health-sustaining mountain country.
In her later years, however, Aunt Sally had become greatly dissatisfied
with her brother and his attachment for Gray Rocks, and she had
developed a querulous disposition, which, at times, was very annoying to
Ben Bonifield. She lost no opportunity to express her opinion that “he
was fooling his time away” while working on Gray Rocks.
As Vance and Louise walked along that morning toward Silver Point Lake,
he could not help glancing at the ruddy glow on the fair cheeks of his
companion. He listened to her childish talk of the many excursions which
she had made with her father far over some of the tallest mountains that
lav before them, and of numerous “fish frys” they had enjoyed at
Silver Point Lake.
While he listened to the sweet music of her voice, he [92] mentally
speculated as to what sort of a friendship, if any, could possibly exist
between such a fair creature and J. Arthur Boast. Presently, looking up
at Vance with her large blue eyes, she said:
“We may have company at the lake.”
“Why, how is that?” inquired Vance in some surprise.
“I received a note,” replied Louise, “from Bertha Allen, inviting
me to go horseback riding to-day. In my reply I explained my previous
engagement with you. Just before starting this morning I received a note
from her saying that she and her cousin, Arthur Boast, would try to join
our fishing party. Of course,” she said, with a sweet little laugh,
“you do not know who Bertha Allen is. Bertha Allen,” she went on,
“is Mr. Rufus Grim’s step-daughter. Mr. Grim married Mrs. Allen when
Bertha was a girl in her early teens. Mrs. Allen is Colonel Boast’s
sister, and Bertha and Arthur are, therefore, cousins.”
Vance did not fancy the prospect of meeting Boast, and felt that his
happiness for the day would certainly be very incomplete if Boast was to
be one of the fishing party.
“I have met Mr. Boast,” said Vance, with just a tinge of resentment
in his voice.
“I hope you like him,” said Louise, as she turned her lovely face
toward him with a pleading look in her eyes.
“May I ask you why you hope so?” asked Vance, in almost a defiant
tone.
There was no maidenly blush on Louise’s cheeks as she replied with the
simplicity of a child:
“Why, Mr. Gilder, there is hardly anybody that likes Arthur, and I
sometimes feel sorry for him. Mr. Grim [93] says very hard things about
him, and no one seems to be his friend.”
“Perhaps he is unworthy,” replied Vance.
For a moment Louise was silent, and then said:
“The judgment of the world, Mr. Gilder, is often at fault. We may
judge with a degree of accuracy art, music, fame, or power, but it is
hardly wise to apply the same rule to a human being.”
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