THE LOVE OF A BISHOP.
The very telegram Erma thinks may bring Harry Lawrence to her side,
curiously enough keeps him from her.
It comes about in two little episodes--one of sorrow, one of joy.
On the day Miss Travenion left Salt Lake City, at eleven o'clock, the
young man calls at the Townsend House, to keep the appointment Erma has
made for him with her father. He comes up to the office of that hotel,
rather light-hearted, considering his desperate straits financially. He
is about to see the girl he loves--she who, in wild moments, since her
generosity of yesterday, he thinks may have some interest in him; for
otherwise why should she take such pains to have him see her father?
He asks lightly: "Is Miss Travenion in?"
"Miss Travenion has gone," says the clerk, a little curtly, for the
sudden departure of the Livingstons has not altogether pleased the hotel
office.
"And the Livingstons--" asks Lawrence, hurriedly.
"The whole party went to California this morning at five o'clock, on the
Ogden train," answers the youth behind the counter indifferently, for
Mormon hotel clerks are quite often as careless as Gentile hotel clerks.
After a moment of blank astonishment, Harry suggests: "Any letter for
Captain Lawrence?"
"Yes," replies the clerk, and hands him an envelope, the feminine
handwriting on which he knows, and it gives back to him hope,--for one
moment. Stepping aside a little, he opens it; and the sun, shining so
brilliantly this bright October day, goes out of the heavens--for him.
For he sees a lady's visiting card which looks like this:
[Illustration:
(handwritten at top of card: I have seen my father, Good bye)
_Miss Erma L. Travenion_
_18 Madison Square North_]
Crushing the fragile pasteboard in his hand, his moustache twitches with
pain, and he mutters bitterly: "Oliver Livingston was right! My darling
has seen her father; he wishes her to still wed that washed-out
aristocrat!"
A minute after he thinks: "She wished to bid me good-bye, also! Did she
do it easily?" and inspects the card he has almost thrown away, to see
if the handwriting shows emotion in its lines. Doing this, a little hope
comes to him, for he sees a splash such as a tear-drop might make upon
the delicate tint of the cardboard.
Putting the missive away reverently in his pocketbook, he meditates, and
reason tells him he has lost her. It says to him, She is not of your
class and people. Her father wishes her to wed in her station, among the
exclusives of Fifth Avenue and Murray Hill, and she obeys him. What are
you that you should hope for her? If your mine was sold and you had
nearly five hundred thousand dollars in your pocket, you might make an
effort to win this butterfly, who has come into your mannish frontier
life to make it brilliant for a day or two. You were happy before you
saw her; be so without her!
To this he cries, resolution fighting against conviction and common
sense: "No more joy for me without her! I'll win her yet!" and goes on
his way to see his lawyers about getting the injunction on his mine
removed.
But his attorneys, Messrs. Parshall & Garter, do not give him very much
hope of immediate success, and common sense is a very hard party to down
in argument; consequently Harry Lawrence makes a very sombre day of it,
and a more sombre night.
Two days after, however, cometh joy. He is in his lawyers' offices,
trying to think if any one in this wide world will go on his bond to
raise the injunction that paralyzes him financially, when Garter comes
excitedly in, and slapping him on the back, cries enthusiastically:
"Here's luck for Harry Lawrence. I've just received a stipulation from
Judge Smith, Zion's Co-operative Mining Co.'s attorney, agreeing to
raise your injunction!"
"Impossible!"
"Fact!"
"What reason did Smith give for this curious concession?"
"Nothing; only that Tranyon telegraphed instructions to that effect last
night, and he thought there must be a mistake and had wired asking
reasons; that Tranyon had replied, his only reason was that he wished
it, and was going to have it done. Smith thinks the Mormon bishop has
gone crazy. However, I've got the stipulation and you can go to work
to-morrow," answers Garter, showing to Harry Lawrence's wondering eyes
the document.
That day he begins arrangements for his return to Tintic, but he has a
great deal to do and many mining supplies to order and ship, and this
delays him. The Sunday intervenes. But Monday, hurrying his
preparations, he is ready to start so as to make half the drive that
day, and is even in his buckboard, ready to leave, when Garter himself
comes, out of breath, to stop him, crying: "I've got more good news for
you. My boy, you're rich!" and slaps Lawrence heartily on the back.
"Rich!" echoes Harry. Then he goes on more slowly, a lump coming
suddenly into his throat, "What do you mean?"
"What I say! You're rich. I have within the hour received from Tranyon a
quit-claim deed to you of the Mineral Hill locations from the Zion's
Co-operative Mining Co. of Tintic. Look!" cries Garter, and displays the
document.
"It can't be so!" gasps Lawrence.
"It is--and what's more, the deed's in proper form. It arrived by
special messenger from Eureka, with a note from Bishop Tranyon, saying
that on careful examination of the matter, he had concluded that the
location was properly yours."
"How do you explain it?" asks Harry, who can't believe.
"Well," replies Garter, "Tranyon writes that he is moved by love of Zion
to discontinue the suit--but I think it was fear of Parshall & Garter,"
goes on the modest Western lawyer. "The bishop heard you had engaged us.
Anyway, your title to your Mineral Hill Mine is without contest. It's as
clear as mine to my caput."
"Then the Mineral Hill's as good as sold to the English company. The
deed's in escrow in Wells, Fargo & Co.'s. Telegraph Southmead in New
York, and get the cash as soon as you can for me, Garter," answers
Lawrence. "I leave town this afternoon. I've other business to attend
to!" his face lighting up with something that it has not had in it since
he read Erma Travenion's card.
"You go to Tintic, I suppose," asks the lawyer, as he gives Lawrence a
farewell grip of congratulation.
"No! to San Francisco," is the answer, and leaving the astounded Garter
gazing at him, Harry drives straight to his bank, cashes a check, and
just catches the afternoon train for Ogden.
Arriving at this place, and walking over from the Utah Central to the
junction depot, Lawrence is greeted suddenly and heartily by, "How are
you, Cap?" and looking up, sees Buck Powers.
"How are you, Buck? Doing pretty well?" he remarks heartily to this
youth.
"First rate! The news company made a kick about dat collection Miss
Beauty took up for me. Dey wanted half of it, but I stood them off,"
returns Buck in explanation. Then he continues suddenly, "Say, boss, she
was here four days ago."
"Ah! you saw her?" asks Harry eagerly.
"No--I was on de road--but that cripple Mormon who sells newspapers told
me dat de whole swell Livingston outfit went West on the Central,
Thursday."
This information is what Lawrence has expected; he goes into the office
and gets his sleeping berth, Buck Powers greeting this transaction with
a sly wink and a _sotto voce_ remark: "I guessed you wouldn't be long
after her. You knows the purtiest girl as ever come over the road, you
do, Cap."
So at six in the evening, Harry Lawrence, his pulse bounding with
revivified hope, his eyes sparkling with eagerness, his heart filled
with a great love, is speeding towards the Pacific in pursuit of the
girl he has sworn shall be his and no other's: while every throb of the
locomotive that he fondly thinks brings him nearer to her, bears him
away from Erma Travenion.
* * * * *
And she upon whom his thoughts are, is sitting by the side of the mine
cabin, looking over the sage brush plain of the West Tintic Valley, and
listening to the low murmur of her father's and Kruger's voices coming
to her through the open doorway, and thinking: "Harry has the news
now.--To-morrow he will be here to work his mine.--To-morrow he will
learn what I have done for him.--To-morrow he will know I am Tranyon's
daughter.--Will he be generous enough to forget my father's shame?" Then
she sighs: "These are curious thoughts for me, whom they called a belle
at Newport six weeks ago--'Miss Dividends,' whose bonds have made her
the bond-maiden of the Mormon Church!" And mocking herself with these
jeering words, Erma Travenion goes in to meet Bishop Kruger and treat
him with respect, if not cordiality--for now she fears him, not
altogether for her father's sake but for her own, for in the last four
days she has grown to feel that Kruger, Mormon fanatic and bishop, has
an interest in her that is not all for Mother Church.
This idea has entered the young lady's mind, not from one but from
several incidents.
Immediately after hearing Lot's voice on the morning of his arrival, her
father had come to her and hurriedly whispered, "Not a word to Kruger of
our leaving. Flight would now be useless if they mean to stop us."
"But where shall we go?" asks the girl anxiously.
"Nowhere! We are safest here for the present," replies Travenion. Then,
seeing astonishment in Erma's mobile face, he continues, "This and the
other mining camps are chiefly Gentile. Here we would be protected by
the hardy men who have come in from California, Nevada and Colorado. It
is in travelling through the farming settlements that our trouble will
come to us. I have told him," he indicates by a gesture Mr. Kruger, who
is looking to the comfort of his team outside, "that you will remain
with me here for some weeks. As you love me and yourself, do not arouse
his suspicions."
"You may trust me," whispers his daughter earnestly, for her father's
manner is very impressive.
A few minutes after they are all at breakfast together, Kruger greeting
Miss Travenion in a more familiar and off-hand manner than he has so far
assumed to her, saying, "Wall, Sissy, did your dad look natural as a
miner? Stoggie boots aren't quite as nice as patent-leathers, and
flannel shirts ain't quite so high-falutin' as b'iled ones, but he's
daddy all the same, ain't he?" Then, chuckling at his own remark, he
prevents reply by turning to Travenion and saying, "Bishop, she's too
likely a gal to let go out agin to the ranks of the unrighteous. You
ought to persuade her to take her endowments."
"Pooh!" answers Ralph lightly. "Erma is too devout an Episcopalian for
me to hope to convert her." But Miss Travenion notes her father suffers
at the mere suggestion that she, whom he loves and honors, should be
even mentioned in connection with this sect of which he is bishop and
apostle.
The next second Travenion has changed the subject, saying, "I'm glad
you've come down, Lot; otherwise I should have had to write to you about
our mine."
"Indeed! What's new since we fixed them Gentiles with an injunction?"
asks Kruger, easily.
"Come up to the shaft and see," replies Ralph. Then he says to his
daughter: "You won't mind a little walk?"
"No," answers the young lady. "In this Tintic air I feel as if I could
climb mountains."
"Wall, ye can find plenty of mountains round here to climb!" laughs Lot.
So they all come out of the hotel into the main and only street of this
mining camp--where many of the men look with by no means kindly eyes on
the two Mormon bishops, for Tranyon's injunction has closed Lawrence's
mine, which promised to develop into a great property which would
furnish lots of work for the "boys." But on seeing the young lady who
accompanies the two apostles, the hats and caps of the delvers after
gold and silver come off with that respect for all women, young or old,
beautiful or plain-faced, that the miners of the Pacific have since
"Forty-nine," when in California they learned to value sweethearts and
wives, because they had none. A chivalry they have not yet--thank
God--forgotten.
But aside from her womanhood, Erma's beauty is so overpowering to these
gentlemen of the pick and drill that they would follow her, were it
polite, and one Patsey Bolivar remarks: "Good Lord, if she's a Mormon,
she must be the angel that brings Brigham his revelations from Heaven."
To this another, Pioche George, answers: "She ain't no Mormon
girl--she's a lady and wears high-heeled boots and has a back-action
panier that comes from Par_ie_."
After a little they are out of the town, and leaving the road, make up
the hill for the mining shaft; and Kruger, walking behind, notices the
tender care with which Travenion assists his daughter over the rough
places in the trail, and is rather surprised at it, for Mormons, as a
rule, have but little consideration and less respect for their
womankind, the very doctrines of their polygamous church preventing
that--though he remembers Tranyon has been considered a light hand with
his wives, leaving them a good deal to themselves, and not exacting any
great account of their outgoings and incomings.
While pondering upon this, and noticing the light grace of the girl as
she steps from rock to rock in the trail, and the beauty of every
movement and poise of her figure, he suddenly thinks: "It's right lucky
Ermie ain't been seen up at the Lion House! The prophet would have been
having 'revealing from Heaven' that she was to be sealed to him."
A moment after, as Miss Travenion ethereally springs over a small tree
that has fallen across the path, this Mormon gentleman suddenly exclaims
to himself: "Great Enoch! They would have cost in our co-op. up in Heber
nigh onto five dollars a pair in farm produce. I'll see if Miss
Highfalutin' will wear silk stockings when----"
He doesn't complete this sentence, though it produces a very definite
idea--though a wild one--in his mind: for what was to him an "IF," as he
looked upon the rare loveliness of Miss Travenion, the Newport
butterfly, on the Union Pacific train, has become to this Mormon fanatic
a "WHEN," now she is in the valley of Tintic, the daughter of a Mormon
bishop--cut off from Gentile friends and surroundings.
This "WHEN" seems to please him so much that Lot Kruger quickens his
steps, and comes alongside of this attractive young lady, and for some
unknown reason begins to be "reel cute," and cavorts about, showing his
agility, skipping over boulders, remarking during his acrobatic
performances: "Yes, I feel reel boyish. I allus do when gals are about!
You ask Bishop Tranyon there, Miss Ermie."
On this frivolity, Ralph, for some occult reason, looks with an evil
eye. It seems to make him gloomy, but Erma rather laughs at the antics
of this Mormon ecclesiastic, who seems to wish to make her forget that
he is fifty years of age, and by no means lovely or engaging.
After a little, however, he chances, during some of his prattle, to call
her "Miss Tranyon," and this puts the girl into such a rage, that did he
but know it, she would like to annihilate him. She draws herself up very
haughtily, and says: "Excuse me! I am always addressed as Miss
_Travenion_, and have never been christened 'Sissy' or Miss _Tranyon_!"
"Oh, no offence, Sissy--I mean Miss Travenion!" answers Kruger. "But I
didn't suppose you would be ashamed of the name your daddy answers to,
and which is respected in this community."
To this, Ralph says in explanation, perhaps apology: "When I came here,
every one seemed to mistake my name, and call me Tranyon. I did not take
the trouble to alter their pronunciation."
But his daughter, in whom anger now overcomes prudence, says sneeringly:
"Pshaw! You were ashamed! You were afraid your Eastern friends would
learn you had become a Mormon!" Then quickening her steps, she reaches
the works and dump of the Co-operative Company ahead of her escorts, and
seating herself on a pile of timber, looks about upon the operations of
the miners, which being novel, create some interest even in her present
state of agitation.
This changes into almost a sneer of indifference as her father and
Kruger arrive on the dump pile, and she sees Ralph very shortly
thereafter euchre his brother apostle out of his share in the Zion
Co-operative Mining Company, which is quite small in comparison to
Tranyon's; all the rest of his fellow Saints having already fallen
victims to his imported Wall Street methods.
Kruger looking about the place, suddenly says: "Why, bishop! we've
hardly any one to work!"
"Of course not!" replies Travenion easily. "We'll be enjoined Monday.
This is Saturday--so I'm laying the men off, and putting things in shape
to stop operations."
"Enjined! How's that?"
"Well, I suppose if we can get an injunction on the Mineral Hill, they
can do the same to us."
"I reckon you're right," returns Lot, wiping his forehead, and looking
glum. "But I thought we claimed their mine--not that they claimed ourn."
"Besides," adds Ralph, "it is about as well for us. We have got no pay
ore. It is the Mineral Hill we want, I imagine." Here he gives Kruger a
significant wink, and continues: "You'd better walk down our incline,
and see how our prospects are, and then come up and tell me if you think
there is any chance of our finding anything where we're working now. I'd
like your opinion on that. It won't take you half an hour, bishop."
"Wall, there's nuthin' like seein'," replies Kruger, and descends the
shaft, which is not difficult, it being an inclined one, and can be
walked down if necessary, as it pitches into the hill at an angle of not
over forty-five degrees.
There are two ore-cars running on tracks in this shaft, to the lower
level of the mine, which is about one hundred feet from the surface.
These are hauled up and let down by a horse whim, that at present, in
contradiction to its name, is moved by a long-eared, strong-kicking
mule, that Erma notices is called Marcho.
Kruger, instead of using his feet, prefers mule locomotion, and goes
down on one of these cars; the other shortly thereafter making its
appearance at the surface, is unloaded of some waste rock and a few
dulled drills and other debris of the mine.
Another surface employee is engaged in turning a circular hand fan,
which through a large tin pipe forces fresh air to the miners working in
the lower level.
These facts are easily and accurately explained by Ralph to his
daughter, as they watch Mr. Kruger's descent.
A few moments after Lot has disappeared, he suggests: "Wouldn't you like
to see the interior of the mine, Erma?"
"Is it safe?" asks the young lady.
"Certainly. Do you suppose I would knowingly take you into danger?"
"Oh, I referred to my costume, not myself," says Miss Travenion lightly,
who is apparently determined to throw off care as much as possible this
day.
"Dust will not hurt linen," replies her father. "There is no seepage at
this season, and we are way above the water level. So you have only a
little dust to fear, and the descent is not long nor dangerous."
Some expression in his face makes his daughter say "Yes" to his
proposal.
A few moments after, the two are alone together in the car descending
the dark incline, and Ralph Travenion whispers: "Watch me! The stock is
below the set of timbers on which I shall place my hand."
To which Erma murmurs: "I understand!" knowing now that it is for this
reason her father wishes her to go down the Zion Co-operative mine.
At the foot of the incline they find a level running from it in two
directions: one towards the Mineral Hill, the other directly away from
it. This last has been only continued about forty feet, and is
apparently deserted. The first, which seems to be of much greater
extent, is in operation, sounds of sledge on drill being heard coming
from it, and the lights of the miners being seen as they work on its
face far away from the incline.
Assisted by her father, Erma is led into the working portion of the
mine, where she finds Mr. Kruger making his inspection of the same with
the aid of a tallow candle, and, apparently, not exceedingly pleased
with what he sees.
"You don't find very much mineral, do you, bishop?" remarks Travenion.
"No," replies Lot, surlily. "There ain't enough in this vein to silver a
tea-pot." Then he says suddenly: "But we have only got one hundred feet
more to run to the Mineral Hill----"
"Which we won't travel in a hurry, when we're enjoined," jeers Ralph.
With this, he explains to his daughter the methods of mining that are
employed, showing her the air as it rushes out of the tin air-pipe, to
give life and vitality to the miners employed below.
This inspection doesn't take long, and, a few minutes after, they return
to the station, followed by Lot.
Just here, however, Travenion says: "I haven't had a look at this other
drift for a good while. I think I'll make a little examination of it
now," and goes into the unused level.
When he reaches the fourth set of timbers from the shaft, by the light
of his candle, Erma sees him put his hands on them, and lean against
them, as he examines the face of the drift.
"Would you like to come in, Kruger?" he asks. "I find nothing."
"Seein's believin'!" cries Kruger, and makes an examination also. Then
the two men come back to the station.
Erma notices that Lot has left his genial spirits in the bottom of the
mine, for when they are hoisted to the surface he turns round and says:
"Tranyon, unless we get the Mineral Hill, we don't get anything."
"And for that we have got to fight them," answers Ralph. Then he
continues: "By the bye, you know Captain Lawrence has engaged Parshall &
Garter. We have got a big fight on our hands, and I suspect I'll have to
assess you."
"How much?" gasps Kruger.
"Well, I guess about twenty-five hundred dollars will do for your share,
as a starter."
"As a starter!" screams Lot, who, though comfortably off for a Mormon,
is not rich like Travenion.
"Yes, for just a little bit of a starter. It's going to cost me one
hundred thousand dollars, perhaps more, to fight this case, and you
don't suppose I'm going to spend _all_ the money, do you, bishop?"
"Great Zion! You talk of money as if it was water!" groans Kruger. Then
he mutters to himself: "I wish I could get out of this thing!"
Leaving him to digest this unpleasant communication, Travenion takes his
daughter's arm, and they walk to the end of the dump pile. Here he
points out to her various mining locations and things of interest on the
scene.
Up to the right, about a mile, is the big ledge of the Eureka Mining
Company, then in litigation also. Across the West Tintic Valley, over
thirty miles of sage brush, is the Scotia Mine. To the left, Silver City
and Diamond.
"But where is Captain Lawrence's mine, the Mineral Hill?" asks the young
lady eagerly.
"Just up a little and further to our right--about three hundred feet;"
and Travenion pointing out the spot, Erma places such anxious eyes upon
it that her father whispers: "No hope of seeing your young man now! He
doesn't know yet his injunction is discontinued. He'll be down in a day
or two!" and pats her cheek, and laughs as if he had hopes himself from
this enterprising young Gentile Philistine.
Just here they are interrupted by Kruger, who comes up suddenly and
mumbles: "Bishop, I'd like to sell out!"
"Who to?" jeers Ralph. "Law-suits are too plenty around here for most
people to want to buy them."
"To you!" says Lot. "You're the only man can handle this thing properly.
Then you'll have the whole of it."
"I think I have enough now, considering I've rather an expensive
family," returns Travenion, and his eyes regard his daughter laughingly
but lovingly.
"You won't buy my stock?" appeals Kruger again.
"Not unless you name a _very_ low figure, bishop."
"So I will," cries Lot. "I ain't no good at mining, nohow. If 'twas
cattle, or farmin', I'd stand any man off!"
Then he names so low a sum that Travenion says: "All right! We'll draw
up a deed this afternoon," and with that gives the foreman the necessary
orders for closing the mine.
They all start down the hill together, though before leaving, Ralph gets
a very grateful glance from his daughter, who, coming close to him,
whispers: "You bought Kruger's stock so as to make the deed to Captain
Lawrence. God bless you, father, for doing him justice!"
So they come down the trail, towards the main road, all apparently
happy--Erma because she thinks Travenion's justice may make Harry
Lawrence forget she is Tranyon's daughter; Kruger because he has got out
of what he thinks a bad speculation with some little money; Ralph
because his daughter's eyes are brighter and her step is lighter than at
any time since she has known he was a Mormon.
As they are passing a pile of rocks that borders the trail, a sudden
sound, like that of a dozen locusts, comes to them. Erma, with a little
cry, gathers her skirts about her, and springs upon a near-by boulder.
Travenion looks hurriedly about for a stick.
The next instant, Lot, who has lived all his life in wild places, has
guessed the matter, and coming up, cries: "Why, it's a pesky rattler!"
and with a handy rock smashes the head of a serpent that has coiled
itself upon the trail, a little ahead of them.
"A rattlesnake! Oh, mercy!" screams Miss Travenion, scrambling higher up
on her boulder of safety.
"You can come down, now, Erma," says her father. But she stands poised
on her eyrie, and discusses the matter, making a picture that causes
Lot's sturdy heart to beat harder than it did when climbing the
mountain.
"Not yet--I have read of them. They travel in pairs!" she gasps.
"Wall, this critter is dead, any way," suggests Kruger. "He has bitten
himself twice since I 'rocked' him. It's all-fired queer how these
varmints commit suicide when wounded."
"There's no danger," says Travenion.
"I'll toss him out of the path; then you'll come down, Sissy!" remarks
the gallant Lot. For somehow the beauty of this young lady--so different
from the other women this man has met--makes him wish to soothe fears he
would be indifferent to, perhaps condemn, even in one of the many wives
of his bosom.
"Oh, please do. I'll thank you so much, Mr. Kruger," answers Erma.
Then she ejaculates: "Do it _quick_! I don't like to look at it!" For
the Mormon bishop seems to be awkward over his work, perchance because
Miss Travenion, in her agitated pose, displays an ankle that might daze
any lover of the beautiful.
A moment after, he has flung the reptile away, and Erma descends, a
little nervous yet, as she falters: "Are there many of them about?" and
manifests a disposition to run down the hill.
"This is the first I have seen this year," says Ralph, reassuringly.
"Yes, these critters are scarce round here," adds Lot; "but over thar in
Provo Canyon, fifty miles away"--he points northeast--"ye can't go one
hundred yards without hearing 'em. And up at the head of it, there war
thousands of 'em, but we all turned out, couple o' years ago, and burnt
'em up in a cave they 'denned' in. It's a marvellous place, the top of
Provo Canyon," he continues. "There's springs of writing-ink up there,
and green and red colored water, and ice-cold fountains and b'iling hot
fountains, all coming out of pot-shaped domes."
"It must be very curious, Mr. Kruger," returns Erma, who thinks she must
appear grateful to him for killing the snake.
"Perhaps ye'll see it some time, yerself, Sissy," remarks Lot. "I have
got as pretty a ranch as is seen in Utah, up the Kammas Prairie on the
head-waters of Provo River. I have got as fine cattle and sheep, and
four as likely----"
He checks himself suddenly here, but Ralph sarcastically adds:
"Wives--why don't you say it at once, bishop? Four as likely _wives_ as
there is in Utah, as well as a fifth at Provo, and a sixth in Cache
Valley." Then he chuckles: "You're too bashful, Kruger!"
For that gentleman has suddenly grown red, and guffaws: "Git out! Bishop
Tranyon! Yer givin' me away to your darter!"
"Pish!" cries Ralph. "You were never diffident about it before. I have
heard you brag about your women folks and big family to a dozen girls,
at a dance in Provo."
"Stop, bishop!" interjects Kruger, interrupting him. "You have scared
Ermie plump off!"
Which is true, for Miss Travenion has suddenly displayed a desire for
rapid movement that has carried her well ahead of the gentlemen, down
the trail.
Her refined mind resents her father's laughing allusions to polygamy,
which make her shudder. Anxious to avoid the subject entirely, she walks
on so rapidly that her escorts do not overtake her till she has reached
the hotel.
As she walks, two ideas force themselves upon her. Her father wishes her
to know that Kruger is a married man. Kruger does not care that she
should learn the fact. Why is he confused and diffident over her
knowledge of what he has boasted to a dozen Mormon girls at a time?
She can't think of any answer to this for a little while, but just as
she reaches the door of the hotel, a great wave of color flies over her
face, followed by an unnatural pallor, and shivering as if struck by the
ague, she sinks on to an empty box that stands near the door.
A moment after her father is by her side, whispering: "You are faint!"
And Kruger coming up cries: "This high air up here is too much for ye!"
"I'll be better in a moment!" whispers the girl. "Could not you get me a
drink of water?"
Her father going on this errand, Lot laughingly suggests: "I reckon it
must have been the sight of the snake that weakened ye!"
"Yes--I think it was--the sight of the snake--" shudders Erma.
Then Ralph brings the water to her and she drinks it as if there were a
fever in her veins, and her eyes seem to follow Kruger, the Mormon
bishop, as if he were the rattlesnake--only they look on him with more
loathing than they did on the reptile.