"Yes."

"I got this little note"--he produces her card with the "I have seen my

father. Good-bye" sentence on it--"in Salt Lake City, and presumed you

had gone to California with the Livingstons. I was then poor. Four days

afterwards, I suddenly found myself astounded and rich. I did not ask

how it came--I was too anxious to make use of my money. I thought a tour

of 'the Golden State' would please me."

Then he goes on hurriedly and tells her of his wanderings in pursuit of

the Livingston party, and his unexpected interview with Ferdie at the

Grand Hotel, omitting, however, his journey to Tintic and his rescue of

her father, as he doesn't wish to alarm or make Erma think she is under

obligation to him.

"Ah!" falters the girl, very pale, and turning her face away from him.

"Then you know--I'm the daughter of Tranyon--the Mormon bishop?"

"Yes," he cries; "that is what brought me from California in such a

hurry; I wanted to thank you for giving me what I would probably have

never got without you--a fortune."

"Oh! it was gratitude," murmurs the young lady, "that brought you from

California?" A moment after she coldly says: "That sentiment need not

actuate you. I simply induced my father to do you justice," and from now

on is very icy; for Erma Travenion demands the love, not the gratitude,

of this young gentleman beside her.

This sudden change in his divinity astounds Lawrence, who has not been a

student of woman's ways. Inadvertently he puts himself right again, for

he suddenly says: "Did I know that I had anything to be grateful to you

for, when I wandered about California seeking you--six weeks?"

"Oh!" cries the young lady, "that was _before_ you knew my father was R.

H. Tranyon, the Mormon bishop?" This last quite haughtily, for she has

grown fearfully sensitive on this point since the conversation of the

two mining gentlemen in Ogden.

"But," remarks Lawrence, "I know that _now_." Then, growing desperate,

he blurts out: "Shall I tell you why I went to California?" and his

voice grows very tender.

But the girl, suddenly rising, says with a curious mixture of

haughtiness and humility, perhaps shame: "To whom do you wish to tell

your tale?--Erma Travenion, of New York, or to Miss Tranyon, who has

been called a Mormon 'gal,' and who is reported to be booked as the

seventh wife of Bishop Kruger of Kammas Prairie?" Then she cries

mockingly, almost savagely, "Which are you talking to?"

"To the girl I love!" cries Lawrence.

"O-oh!"

"To the girl I'd make my wife if she were the daughter of Beelzebub, and

booked for the seventh consort of Satan!"

"O-o-o-oh!" With this sigh Erma sinks on the seat again; a moment after

she suddenly smiles and murmurs: "Don't make my pedigree worse than it

is!"

"Would you like to hear the tale I took with me to California, and have

carried ever since in my heart?" says Harry, bending over this young

lady, whose face is hiding its blushes, turned towards the car window,

upon whose frosted panes her white finger is making figures.

"Y-e-s!"

Then he tells her how he has loved her since the night he first saw her

at Delmonico's, and mutters: "Give me your answer!"

"My answer;" murmurs Erma, turning a face to him that is half hope, half

uncertainty, all love, "if I were what I was that evening in New York,

would be----"

"Yes!" he cries, and has his hasty frontier arm half round the fairy

waist of last summer's Newport belle; for there is something in her

lovely eyes that many men have looked for, but no one has ever seen till

now.

But she rises and falters, "Wait!"

"How long?"

"Wait till I know you're sure you will never feel ashamed of the

Mormon's daughter! Oh!--oh! can't you wait one min--!" For Harry has not

waited, and the girl's last word as it issues from her rosy mouth is

smothered by an audacious black moustache that she can parry no longer.

And perchance those lovely coral lips return his betrothal kiss--a very

little:--at least Harry thinks so. A moment after he knows it; for Erma

Travenion, though very hard to win, having given her hand does not

hesitate to make her sweetheart very sure he has also her heart.

CHAPTER XVII.

A VOICE IN THE NIGHT.

Into this Elysium, Buck Powers, who has been one of its architects,

breaks with news-boy rapidity. The girl passenger is in the other car

gossiping with the lady tourist, and Harry and Erma have forgotten there

are other people in this world. Entering rapidly, the banging car door,

and an excited and astounded "Gee whiz!" calls the lady and gentleman

from heaven to earth.

"What do you want here?" cries Lawrence, and he pounces upon the flying

Buck and leads him to the forward compartment, while Erma suddenly

discovers that the outside landscape is a thing of most immediate

interest.

"I--I didn't mean to run in on you, Cap," gasps the fleeing Buck. Then

he smiles on Harry suddenly and grins: "Have you made a through

connection at last? Are you switched on the main track now?"

"Stop your infernal conundrums!" laughs Harry. "Take a five-dollar

greenback and go away, and don't you tell a living soul that Miss

Travenion is going to be Mrs. Lawrence!"

"I'll take a five-dollar greenback," answers the boy, "because you're

the luckiest man I ever seed, and it's business. But I've got somethin'

to tell your young lady!"

"Very well," answers Harry, and leads Buck back to Erma's side. Here the

youth remarks with a snicker that brings blushes upon Miss Travenion, "I

hear as how the Cap has just been elected president of the road!" A

moment after he continues: "I come to tell you the grub's all out.

Somehow, since they got an idea that they might run short, our

passengers has eaten so as to make 'em run short. I haven't had a pie to

sell for four hours, and there's a little gal, the daughter of the

engineer of the helper, has got hungry and is screaming for food----"

"Screaming for food?" cries Erma. "Thank you, Buck, for telling me," and

the next minute she is in her stateroom.

"Gracious! you'll be short yourself," expostulates Buck as she returns.

"You ain't carrying grub to a giantess!" for she has a beef pie, three

fruit tarts, and a couple of apples.

"Perhaps the child's father is hungry also," replies Miss Travenion, who

seems very benevolent this afternoon.

"Very well!" says Mr. Powers, "I'll bring the engineer, only don't stint

yourself!" and goes on his errand.

A minute after, Erma and Harry are on the platform and the man of the

throttle-valve comes to them, carrying his little daughter, who looks

pale, and has hungry eyes. Seeing her bounty, the engineer cries, "God

bless you, miss." Then he mutters, "You'll rob yourself."

"Oh, I've more left," answers Miss Travenion; "besides, she needs it,"

for the child has already gone to work ravenously on the fruit tarts.

"God bless you, just the same," cries the engineer. "Thank the lady,

Susie."

But Susie, looking at her benefactress, forgets gratitude in admiration,

and babbles, "Beau'ful, beau'ful," extending a fruity hand and putting

up two lips embellished with jam.

"Don't, she'll spoil your dress," says the father. But Erma has her

already in her arms, giving the little one a kiss, and playing with her

and doing some small things to make her happy.

And doing small things for the baby does great things for herself,

though she does not know it, for it gains the engineer's heart.

The man wipes a grimy eye with a more grimy sleeve, and mutters, "I was

afraid my little one would get sick from starving, and she's all that's

left me of her mother, who's buried in Green River--God bless your kind

heart and beautiful face, miss!" and so going away, spreads the news of

the beautiful girl's bounty through the train.

But this brings requests from other hungry ones to Miss Travenion, who

has a little that they will eat--if she will give it them.

Consequently, about five in the afternoon Lawrence, who does not know

of this raid on his beloved's commissariat, and is in the smoking-car

pondering over the problem whether the knowledge of the awful death to

which Kruger had doomed and from which he had rescued her father, will

not make Erma too anxious and too nervous about Ralph Travenion's

further fate, finds himself disturbed by Mr. Powers.

The boy comes hurriedly to him and says: "She ain't got nothin' to eat,

and she's hungry."

"What do you mean?" cries Harry. "Didn't you say that you had

provisioned her for two days?"

"Yes! but she's given it all away to the women in the way-cars."

"No relief train yet?"

"No, an' I don't see any chance of one."

"Very well," remarks Lawrence, putting on his overcoat, "I'll see what I

can do."

He steps out of the car, and the best he can think of is to tramp to the

telegraph station, and see if there is anything left there. It is over a

mile and a half, but a beaten track has been pretty well made in the

snow by the brakemen and conductor on some of their visits to that

point, so he gets there in a little over half an hour.

Here, the conductor is talking to the telegraph operator, and they seem

to be excited over something.

"What's the matter?" asks Harry.

"Nothing, only the line's down between here and Evanston!" says the

operator. "It was working twenty minutes ago, but I can't get the

Evanston or any other Western office now."

"What was the last news from there?"

"Bad!" replies the man. "They can't get a locomotive or relief train to

us till to-morrow. They'll have to pick and shovel their way through a

lot of drifts."

"Meantime we have nothing to eat!" grumbles the captain.

"Oh," remarks the conductor, "they telegraphed me this morning that they

would send up provisions in sleighs. Some teamsters will bring them up.

They ought to be due here to-night. They can make the eighteen miles, I

reckon, in nine hours."

"There is no danger of a train coming from the other way to bring more

hungry people?" asks Lawrence earnestly.

"Oh, no!" answers the operator. "That's all fixed. I heard Evanston

telegraph Green River this morning, for all passenger trains bound west

to be held at that point--they can feed them there--and all freight to

be stopped at Bridger."

"You are sure?"

"Certain!--the order was from Hilliard, the train dispatcher of this

division. There's only one passenger train side-tracked at Granger, and

a freight switched off at Carter and another at Bridger, between us and

Green River."

"Very well!" says Lawrence. "Have you got anything to eat?"

"You're welcome to the best I can do, Cap," replies the man of the wire,

who knows Harry by sight, as most of the employees of the road do. But

the best that Lawrence can obtain for his sweetheart is some pork and

beans, and some bread made of middlings. These he wraps up in an old

newspaper--nothing else being handy--and turns to go, but pauses a

moment, and says: "Haven't you got any tea, or coffee, or something of

that kind?"

"Tea," cries the operator. "I can accommodate you!"

So, laden with a small package of this ladies' delight, the Captain

leaves the log cabin, which is the only house at Aspen, and does duty as

a telegraph office, and trudging back through the snow, brings comfort

and happiness to Erma, who has grown so hungry in the chill night air

that she has almost repented of her generosity.

Buck Powers accommodates her with boiling water, and the Captain would

leave her to her meal, but she suddenly stops him and cries: "What have

you had to eat?"

"Oh, don't mind me," says Harry.

"But I do--you have tramped through the snow for my comfort; Besides, I

must take care of you--because----"

"Why?"

"Oh, well, you know "--a big blush--"what I told you to-day! If you

remember--take tea with me!"

"With pleasure, if you put it on that ground!" laughs Harry, who is

desperately hungry, and when he has fallen to, forgets himself, and eats

a good deal more than his share, though they both enjoy the meal.

But just at this moment there is a cry outside, and a faint hurrah from

the negro porter inside.

It is the arrival of the teamsters, who have come, bringing with them

comfort and provisions, and everybody is now in the land of plenty,

though it is a very rough plenty.

Looking at them, Lawrence wonders why so many men have come with the

relief sleighs; but is told they brought them along to help the teams

through the drifts.

So they pass a very happy evening--the young lady singing a song or two

for her swain, more beautifully, he thinks, than any prima donna, and

saying good-night to him afterwards so tenderly that Lawrence, coming to

his own car, astonishes the negro porter by giving him five dollars for

making up his bed in the stateroom which is unoccupied, and more roomy

than a section.

A moment after he murmurs to himself: "Can it be? Is it possible?"--and

then cries, "Good gracious! the engagement ring--and no jeweller in

sight!"

And so he goes to bed, to be awakened by a voice in the night that

changes confidence into doubt, and makes joy into sorrow.

Harry has hardly been in bed an hour when there is a rap on the door of

his stateroom.

"Hang you!" he cries, thinking it is the negro porter. "I've left my

boots outside. What are you waking me up for at this time of night?"

"'Ssh! don't talk so loud, Cap! Let me in!"

And opening the door, Mr. Powers makes his appearance, his eyes, in the

moonlight that is streaming in, large, luminous, and excited.

He gasps: "Cap--come--an' save your girl!"

As Buck speaks, Lawrence is out of bed. "Quick!" he says.

"You know in my baggage car I hear most of what's goin' on. Them

teamsters that came here with the grub are camping in there to-night. I

heard them talking. They're Mormons!"

"Ah!"

"Buck Mormons from Echo and Heber, and that way. One of them said to the

other, 'The bishop will be along soon. The orders is, we're none of us

to make a move, but to have the sleighs ready to start out quick, and

one fixed with furs in it and blankets, to keep the girl warm.'"

"What makes you think they meant Miss Travenion?"

"They described her."

"Did you hear the name of the bishop?"

"Yes," answers Buck. "It was the cuss who came West with you and her!"

"Kruger!--Hush! Speak lower! Whisper to me!"

"I am a-whisperin'!" says the boy. "It's the lowest I've got. I've

spoilt my voice hollerin' as news-agent, an' I can't bring it down!"

"Are the Mormon teamsters armed?"

"They ain't Mormon teamers. Some of them is disguised. I heard one of

them call another 'Constable,' and the other chinned him as 'Sheriff.'

Hadn't we better tell the conductor?"

"No," says Lawrence, shortly, for he remembers the conductor is a

routine man--and, of course, of no use in such an emergency.

A moment after, he says quietly to the boy: "Miss Travenion was very

good to you, Buck. Will you help me save her?"

"That's what I come for.".

"It may be a life and death matter."

"That's what I come for."

"Very well," replies Harry. "You go quietly about the train--they won't

notice you--and find out what you can, and come and report to me, in

Miss Travenion's car. I am going there."

"All right."

As Buck turns to obey his orders, Lawrence suddenly whispers: "No matter

what happens, don't let any one of that gang learn I am on the train."

"I understand!"

Then the captain asks suddenly, "How many of them?"

"Twelve!"

"Good God!"

As Buck goes on his errand, Lawrence, looking carefully about to see he

is not observed, slips from his car into that of Miss Travenion, which

is quiet, save for a loud snoring from the gentlemen's smoking

compartment, which indicates that the Ethiopian porter is making a very

comfortable night of it.

A lamp, partially turned up, illuminates faintly the rear of the car.

He taps lightly on Miss Travenion's door. No answer! His heart sinks;

she may be already carried away from him.

Then he raps more loudly, and her voice tells him she is as yet safe.

"Who is it?" asks the girl.

"I--Harry Lawrence!"

"Is anything the matter?"

"Yes! I must see you in two minutes!"

"Impossible--I am not dressed."

"You must dress in two minutes. Throw on a wrapper or shawl."

"Oh, mercy! What is it?"

"Dress!"

"Very well!--Good gracious! where's my slippers?" This last a nervous

aside.

Then the noise from inside Miss Travenion's stateroom indicates she is

obeying him with a vigor that shows he has impressed her.

Within the time specified she has opened her door, and stepped out to

him, draped in some warm woollen wrapper, which clings about her lithe,

graceful figure; and the moonlight shining through the car window gets

into her unbound hair, and makes it very soft and golden.

She says hastily, but pathetically, "Now, tell me!"

"Can you be very brave?"

"Yes! Try me!"

Looking in her eyes, he knows she can be.

"Very well," he whispers, "sit down. To-day, fearing to alarm you, I did

not tell you all I knew in regard to your father; but it is necessary

now that you understand everything about Kruger, the Mormon bishop."

"Why, he's two hundred miles away."

"In a few minutes he will be here."

"Oh, mercy!" The girl leans against her lover, and he can feel her heart

throb and pulse with apprehension. His arm goes round her waist, and

seems to give her confidence, as he tells her the whole story of her

father's blood atonement, from which he saved him. And she gasps: "You

are not deceiving me--my father is not dead?"

"He's as safe as you are!"

"Thank God!"

"Perhaps safer!" Then he tells her of the revelation Buck Powers has

made him this night.

"Ah!" Erma cries; "Kruger is coming to force me to give up that Utah

Central stock."

"For more!"

"What more?"

"To force you to be his seventh wife."

But she says very quietly: "There is no fear of that. I can always die

at the last."

"I know you can _die_; but for my sake you must _live_!" cries Lawrence.

Then he says grimly: "If there's any dying to-night, Kruger does it!"

"Ah! that may mean your life. For my sake you must live! I've--I've only

been happy for a day." And her tender arms go around him, as she sobs

over him, calling him her darling, her betrothed, her future husband,

and many other wild terms of endearment she might not use, did she not

feel this night might take him from her.

A moment after she cries: "He is not here yet--let us fly!"

"Fly, where?" asks Lawrence. "Through those snow-drifts, over those

uninhabited plains? In half an hour we should be overtaken. If not, by

morning we should be dead."

"Then, how will you save me?"

"All I know is that I will save you! But to do it, you must follow my

instructions. Twelve men I shall not resist openly--except at the last.

Give me your receipt from Wells, Fargo, for that stock."

She steps into the stateroom, and a moment after hands it to him.

"Now," he says, "listen to me! Each word I utter is important. When

Kruger comes, you must be in your stateroom, asleep. Nothing must betray

to him that you expect or fear his coming! Nothing must inform him that

you know of his crime against your father; and, above all, nothing must

suggest to him that I am on your train. Our one great hope is, that he

does not know I'm here, and may be--just a little careless! Remember,

you have nothing to fear as long as I live!"

But Buck Powers breaks in on them at this moment, and mutters: "Cap,

Kruger's here! He's talkin' with the men over there!"

"On which side of the cars? Can he see me if I leave them this way?"

"No!"

"You're going?" says the girl. And putting her arms round his neck,

nestles to him, and murmurs: "Remember, your life is my life!"

And so he leaves her, and steps cautiously out, and crouching in shadow

of the cars, and looking over the white plateaus of drifted snow, he

thinks:

"Fly, where? Fight--how? Impossible!" Then of a sudden the snow

disappears, and he remembers a hot spring day in '64, in Arkansas, when

he and his Iowa boys did what was deemed impossible in war--artillery

holding woodland and brush copse against infantry. He sees his

cannoneers--boys with fresh young faces and fair hair, just from Western

prairies and green fields--fall and die, as the musketry flashes all

about them, and singing bullets bring death to them, but still stand

and scourge that undergrowth and timber shelter with grape and case

shot, till the gray infantry slowly draws back; until the Yankee

lumberman has built up a dam like those that float timber down Maine

rivers, and so saved the Federal fleet, and thus saved the Federal army.

He mutters: "I did the impossible then for my country; I can do the

impossible now FOR MY LOVE."

And from that moment Harry Lawrence has the one great quality that makes

success possible in all desperate undertakings--confidence!

CHAPTER XVIII.

THE LAST OF THE DANITES.

Even as he looks, hope comes, for he sees the glow of one of the

locomotives on the Y, and knows that its fires are still banked--it has

a little steam; and he remembers, the line is clear of trains to Green

River.

Then he whispers suddenly to Buck, who says: "I understand!" and goes

cautiously away, while Lawrence struggles through the snow-drifts to the

helping locomotive, the one nearest the switch that leads to the main

track running to the East.

The engineer, who is a careful man, and has a pride in his machine, is

still with his engine, and Harry is delighted to see he is the one whose

heart Erma has won by kindness to his child.

"I was rubbing her up a little, Cap," he says. "I want to be sure she's

all ready for to-morrow's work."

"Is she ready for _to-night's_ work?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," answers Lawrence, who has looked the man over, and concludes

it is better to lie to him than to argue with him, "that there are road

agents on the train."

For a moment the man looks at him in unbelief, then there is a little

noise and commotion about the sleepers, and he cries: "My God! my

child!"

"Your child is safe. Buck is bringing her over!" says Harry, pointing at

the figure of the boy, half leading, half carrying the little girl

through the snow. "Any way," he goes on, "they would have done nothing

to her; it's the other one they want, the heiress!"

"What! that beautiful girl that kept my little one from starving? We

must save her!" cries the engineer, getting hold of his own darling from

Buck, who has come up.

"We will!" whispers Lawrence. "Those road agents will only trouble her

and Wells, Fargo & Co.'s express. The express must take care of

itself--we'll take care of the girl!"

"But how?"

"By running her down to safety on your locomotive!"

"Great goodness! I never thought of that!" replies the man of the

throttle-valve.

A moment after, he says: "I haven't got coal to reach further than

Granger."

"That'll do! Get up steam as fast as you can, but don't let anybody see

you're at work on your locomotive."

With these words, Lawrence goes into consultation with the engineer and

Mr. Powers as to the details of the transaction.

It is arranged that Harry is to do the work of the fireman, who is on

the train, and whom they dare not take the risk of arousing; Buck is to

turn the switch to put the locomotive on the main track, and to board

them as they pass him, which they will do very quietly.

Leaving the engineer quietly making his preparations, Lawrence walks

cautiously across, not towards Miss Travenion's car, but towards the

sleeper behind it--the one he occupies.

From that he cautiously approaches the other, looks in, and finds it

empty of all save Miss Travenion, who has apparently hurriedly dressed,

and is seated, confronted by two men, who evidently have her in their

keeping, as one says: "Don't be scared; we'll take good care of you,

even if you have been tryin' to rob the Mormon Church!"

Catching these words in the outer darkness of the rear compartment,

Lawrence knows that Kruger has already had his say, and for some reason

left the girl. Harry is glad of this, for feeling the revolver in his

belt, he fears he might have killed the Mormon, which would probably not

have saved either himself or his sweetheart.

In this he is doubtless right. For while he has been holding conference

with the engineer, Kruger, followed by four or five of his satellites,

and accompanied by the conductor, who is expostulating with him, has

entered the car.

"Now, ye keep quiet!" he says to that official. "We've got a warrant for

this young lady, for assistin' her daddy to run away with half a million

dollars' worth of Utah Central stock. There's the documents, sworn to by

the sheriff of Heber City, Utah, before a Probate Judge."

"A Utah judge has got no jurisdiction in Wyoming," answers the

conductor.

"No! But this is made returnable," says Lot, "before the United States

District Judge, and Wyoming's part of his district, and that gives us

authority. Don't step in the way of the law, young man. Besides"--here

he looks round at his following, and remarks: "We're goin' to execute

this warrant any way, an' ye ain't got the power to stop us! I've sized

ye up, an' ye've got two nigger porters, two brakesmen, an' yerself.

We've twelve men armed with Winchesters, an' we've got the drop on yer

train-hands, mail agent, an' Wells, Fargo's messenger, for they're

surrounded and cut off from ye. Now the sheriff's goin' to serve his

papers."

At this moment, the negro porter, who has just awakened, flies out of

the car shrieking: "For de Lord! Road agents!"

"Ye see how much good he'd do ye!" guffaws Kruger to the conductor.

"Now," he continues, "ye step back an' let me do my business polite!"

"Not unless you agree to report with the young lady at Evanston, before

you take her into Utah," says the dethroned autocrat of the train.

"That we will do, certain!" replies Lot, with a wink to the sheriff.

"Now ye wake her up."

Thus commanded, the conductor raps upon Miss Travenion's stateroom door,

and to her inquiries, asks her to dress herself, stating there are some

gentlemen on business, who must see her at once.

"Very well! Let them wait!" answers the young lady quietly, though there

is a tremor in her voice.

She keeps them waiting so long that one of the men mutters: "The gal

must be rigging herself out for a dance," and Lot himself knocks on her

stateroom door, saying, "Miss Ermie, come out quick! It's Kruger, yer

daddy's friend, who's talkin' to ye."

"You here?" she cries through the door. "What has happened to my father,

that you come to me?"

And he says: "The sheriff here has got a little business with ye. Yer

daddy has disappeared."

"A--ah!" And it's all she can do to keep from bursting out and

upbraiding him, telling him what she knows, and so ruining the chance

Lawrence is preparing for her.

"Yes, yer daddy has gone, and the Utah Central stock that belonged to

the Mormon Church has gone with him, an' the sheriff here thinks it's in

yer possession, and has sworn out a warrant agin ye, an' is here to

execute it. An' I come along with him to make it as light for ye, as

possible. He thought ye'd got clean away from him, but heerd the train

was stopped here by snow, an' so he come on to get ye. But before he

takes ye, I want to tell ye a few little things. Come out!"

Then hearing the noise of the moving bolt in Erma's door, Kruger says to

the men with him: "Just step back a leetle into the smoking-room, while

I talk to the girl."

"All right, bishop!" answers the sheriff, who seems entirely under Lot's

domination.

The men withdraw as Erma comes out and stands before Bishop Kruger, her

beauty perhaps at this moment appealing to him more than it ever

did--for excitement has added a lustre to her eye, and she seems so

helpless, and so much in his power.

He mutters, his eyes blinking a little at the radiance that is before

him: "Now, Ermie, ye can make everything quite easy for yerself!"

"Indeed--how?" She tries very hard to conceal it, but some scorn will

get into her voice.

"By givin' up the stock quiet!"

"Ah! then you will let me go?"

"Oh, no! The sheriff wouldn't do that; but when he takes ye back to

Utah, I'll go bail for ye, an' I'll take ye down to my home in Kammas

Prairie, where ye'll be nice an' comfortable, an' I'll look after ye."

"You are always very good to me," says the girl with a sneer, though he

doesn't detect it, and replies: "Yes, I'll be better to ye than ye

know!"

And she, trying to act her part, to prevent any suspicion in his mind,

thanks him with so much apparent heartiness that the old satyr loses

his head, and chuckles: "Now, that's the right kind o' talk. Now yer

lookin' beautiful as one o' the angels of Zion. I've been havin' my eye

on ye, an' I'm goin' to exalt ye, an' take ye into my family."

"Take me into your family--as a _daughter_?"

"No, as a _wife_, for I love ye!"

And looking to her like an ogre, he would advance to her, whispering:

"By this kiss of peace, I take ye into my family!"

But she has forgotten to act now, and scorn is in her eye, hatred in her

voice, and loathing in her shudder. She says hoarsely: "BACK! don't dare

to sully me by the touch of your finger! I loathe you as I do your

iniquitous church!"

"Ye blasphemer!" he cries. "This is the second time. I'll be hard on ye

now, an' bring ye down from yer high horse. Where's that stock of the

Utah Central?"

"Find it!" jeers Erma.

"I will!" he answers, "and then I'll make ye sorry ye turned yer nose up

at Lot Kruger!"

Raising his voice, he shouts: "Sheriff, come in an' take yer prisoner,

an' make a search of her baggage! She's got the stolen goods with her, I

reckon!"

A second later the girl is placed under arrest.

But a quick though thorough search of the baggage she has with her,

shows that the Utah Central stock, that Kruger knows the Mormon Church

must have, is not in her possession.

He says: "Sheriff, step off a leetle; I'll reason with this child, to

see if I can't get from her the locality of the stolen goods."

So, coming to her again, he mutters: "Ye'd better take things

reasonable, an' tell me where that ar' stock is! I WILL KNOW!"

But she laughs in his face, and cries: "Find it!"

"Now," he says, "I ain't 'customed to bein' sassed by women. I'll have

it out o' ye! Tell me, or I'll treat ye as I do my own darters, when

they disobey me!"

His brutal hand is upraised, and in another second this exotic from

far-away Murray Hill will receive what she had never felt before--a box

on her dainty ear. But she, forgetting prudence, forgetting Harry's

counsel, pants, "I dare you! Do you think I have no one here to avenge

me?"

"Who?" asks Kruger, suspiciously, his hand still lifted.

"Who?" echoes Erma--"who?" Then, remembering in time, she turns her

speech and laughs. "That stock is safe in the hands of Wells, Fargo &

Co., where you dare not touch it!" and unwittingly paves the way for her

own escape.

"Oh ho!" guffaws Lot. "It's on the train. We'll see if we dare not touch

it!"

He calls to his men, who are in the smoking-room: "Two of ye look after

her here, though there ain't any great danger of Miss Dainty's running

very far in this snow. That stock is in Wells, Fargo & Co.'s safe, an'

we'll have it now. It's right here on the train, boys. We've got a

warrant that will hold us up in this business!"

For some of the men have turned pale at the thought of making a raid on

Wells, Fargo & Co., an institution that has gained a reputation for

being implacable in its pursuit of train robbers, highwaymen, and others

that raid the precious things the business community intrust to it.

Then whispering to her: "I'll come back for ye! We'll take ye an' the

stock together, back to Utah!" he leaves the girl, followed by all but

the two men, whom Lawrence sees watching her, as he peers into the

gloom.

Harry is thinking of how to get these two guardians of Miss Travenion

away, and has half made up his mind to kill them, when Buck Powers comes

sneaking to him, and whispers: "Cap, the engine's ready!"

"Where are Kruger and the rest of his gang?"

"They're making a raid on Wells, Fargo. They're demandin' some stock, or

somethin' or other, an' the agent is standin' them off. He thinks

they're road agents."

With these words comes an idea to Harry Lawrence.

He whispers quickly to Buck, then says: "You understand?"

"All right, Cap, I'm on to you!" and Mr. Powers disappears.

Thirty seconds after Buck bangs at the door of the sleeper with great

noise, though he is careful not to enter, and from its end nearest to

the express car, yells: "Come on! you're needed. Wells, Fargo's agent is

standin' the bishop off. The bishop says the gal's safe and he wants

you!"

"All right!" answers one of the men, and handling their guns, the two

disappear to take part in the trouble with the express agent, which is

now creating a great commotion on the train, the passengers in

Lawrence's Pullman crying out: "Road agents!" and the young lady in Miss

Travenion's car, who has been awakened by the noise, screaming for help.

This excitement aids Lawrence. He steps into the car, and touching his

sweetheart on the shoulder, whispers: "Come!"

And she following him to the platform, he springs into the snow-drift,

and says: "I must carry you!"

"Certainly!" Her arms clasp themselves trustingly round his neck, as he

trudges through the snow, bearing his happiness with him.

The locomotive on the Y is just moving as he reaches it, for he crosses

directly to it, not daring to carry her past Kruger and his men, who are

still about Wells, Fargo & Co.'s car.

"Ah, you're going to carry me away on the locomotive!" whispers Erma, as

Lawrence puts her on board.

"Yes, we'll take care of you!" mutters the engineer, giving Harry a

helping hand.

In another moment they are in the cab of the locomotive, which is slowly

running over the Y towards the main track, which leads to the East, and

safety.

This has been kept open as far as the snow-shed, and they will probably

not meet a great deal of drift until they get beyond it, but the steam

is light in the engine, and it cannot move very fast.

The other locomotive stands behind them, on the Y. Lawrence notices, as

they leave it, that its fires are banked, and some one is on board it,

though apparently asleep.

A second after, they pass Mr. Buck Powers, who switches them to the main

track, they running so slowly that he easily follows them, and jumps on

board.

All this time Harry has both ears and eyes fixed on the forward end of

the train, to see if their absence is discovered.

But the Wells, Fargo & Co.'s man is still standing the Mormons and their

bishop off, and threatening to shoot; and his movements interest them so

much they do not notice the great mass of iron that has come on to the

main track, and is now plunging away from them down the incline towards

the long snow-shed.

"Now," Harry says to the engineer, giving a sigh of relief, "you can

light your headlight."

Just then a cry comes out from behind them. It is that of the conductor

of the train, who is screaming: "Great Scott! who's run away with the

locomotive?" and some of Kruger's men run shouting through the snow.

Then Lawrence cries, "Give her steam!"

The locomotive dashes through little drifts, and drowns sound, but he

knows that in a very few moments Lot Kruger will have discovered that

what he values more than the stock of the Utah Central Railway is

passing away from him.

The engine is already flying through the snow-shed--one of the two long

ones that line the steep decline leading towards Piedmont and the East.

In it they find little snow to impede them, but at the end of the shed

their trouble begins, for on this track, which has not been passed by

trains for twenty-four hours, they encounter deep drifts, and once or

twice the locomotive nearly stops, and the engineer tells Lawrence that

if it were not for the steep down grade, they would never be able to

make it.

Several times they have to back, and push on again, though the

sheet-iron covered cow-catcher, which acts as a snow-plow, helps them

tremendously. Still it is a long time before they reach the second big

snow-shed, and looking at his watch, Lawrence finds that they have been

half an hour doing what ought only to have taken them ten minutes.

But just as they are entering the second snow-shed, where the track

makes an enormous bend, almost running back upon itself, in the form of

a U, something comes out of the snow-shed--not much over a mile

away--that they have left behind them. Something that makes Lawrence's

heart jump, and then grow cold, as with hoarse voice he cries, pointing

back: "My God! what is that?"

And the engineer sets his teeth, and says: "They're after us! It's the

headlight of the other locomotive! They have got up steam, and they have

the advantage of us, because we have to bore the way through drifts and

clear the track for them. They're bound to catch us!"

"Not if steam'll beat them," mutters Harry, and assisted by Buck, he

piles the engine fire with coal, and helped by the rapid descent, they

forge through drift after drift, none of these being very deep in the

second long snow-shed.

Then they come out of it, into the open country once more, and meet

deeper drifts, into which the engine plunges with a slow thud, throwing

the snow higher than its smoke-stack, as it struggles through. Here the

other engine must have the best of it, for they clear its track for it,

and they haven't left the second snow-shed half a mile behind when, like

the eye of a demon, the glow of the yellow headlight of their pursuer

comes gliding after them.

The engineer mutters: "They're goin' to catch us!"

"Never!" cries Lawrence, and piles on more coal--though his heart is

cold as the snow-drifts through which the engine plunges.

"We'll be up to the Piedmont switch in a minute. I might as well stop

there!" mutters the engineer. "We can't clear the track for 'em and beat

'em too!"

"Put your hand on the reversing lever and you're dead!" cries Lawrence,

his pistol at the man's ear.

"Not for my sake!" screams Erma, for she has the man's child in her

arms.

"For all our sakes!" answers Harry. "Keep her going--till we can move no

more! Then----"

"What?" asks his sweetheart.

"Then Kruger'll trouble you no more; of that be certain!"

"But YOU?"

"Oh, that doesn't matter."

They are moving quite slowly now, and the girl suddenly cries, "Buck,

where are you going?" for the boy has just said, "Good-bye! God bless

you, Miss Beauty!"

"What are you going to do?"

"_Show you how a Chicago railroad man treats chumps!_"

And though Erma cries: "Don't! You risk your life!" and Lawrence puts

out a detaining hand, even as they come to the Piedmont side-track, the

boy jumps from the cab, unlocks the switch, and hides himself in the

snow-drift.

"My God! He's going to run 'em off the track! My pard's the boss of that

locomotive!" screams the engineer. "He'll be smashed to pieces!"

"Go on!" answers Lawrence, and his pistol again threatens.

The locomotive dashes forward, for there is a roar two hundred yards

behind them, and over the noise they hear Kruger's yell of triumph,

which, even as he utters it, is turned into a howl of rage.

There is a shriek of terror from the engineer of the pursuing

locomotive, for Buck Powers, in the moonlight, has risen up beside the

switch, and turned it, just as the engine dashes to it, not so as to

side-track it, but only half way, to dash it over ties and snow-drifts

to destruction.

As the locomotive passes, Kruger, who has his pistol in his hand, turns

it from the direction of Lawrence and the flying locomotive straight at

the breast of the boy at the switch, and fires upon him! And Buck

Powers, giving a shriek, staggers and falls into a snow-bank, reddening

it with his blood.

But even as Buck does so, he is avenged. The locomotive, plunging

forward off the track into the drifting snow, topples over, and though

the engineer and fireman jump free, Kruger, with his eye in grim triumph

on the dying boy, is thrown beneath the ponderous mass of iron, that

topples over him, crushing his body, and sending his soul to where the

souls of the Danites go.

The engineer and fireman clamber out of the snow-drift unharmed, though

shaken up. Three of the Mormon _posse_ who have been with Kruger come

out of the snow unarmed, for their Winchesters are buried deep in a

white bank; and Lawrence, knowing they are helpless, makes the engineer

run his locomotive back to the switch. Springing out, he has the boy in

his arms in a minute, and getting into the cab, he holds Buck Powers to

his breast, while his locomotive goes on its way unhindered now, though

followed by the curses of its Mormon pursuers.

Then Erma whispers to Harry, "What chance?" But he shakes his head, for

he knows what those gray-blue lips mean--he has seen them too often on

battlefields.

As he does so, the boy, whose face has already grown pallid, and upon

whose forehead the dew of death is standing, gasps: "I saved ye, Miss

Beauty!--Didn't I do the trick like--like a Chicago railroad man?"

"Yes," sobs the girl, bending over him. "What can I do for you?"

"The Cap won't be jealous--just give me one kiss--that's all. I've never

been kissed--by--a--beautiful--young lady."

And two sweet lips come to his, that are already cold, and he gasps:

"You're pretty as a Chicago girl--that's where I'm goin'!"

And delirium coming on him, he laughs; for his old life is coming back

to him! And the railroad, and the city that he loves so well and is so

proud of, getting into his mind, he cries: "I'm braking on the

Burlington again, an' we're bound for Chicago. Hoop! we're at the Rock

Island crossin'--we've whistled first an' got the right o' way. C. B. &

Q.'s always ahead!--Two long toots and two short toots! Town whistle!

We're goin' into Aurorie an' out of it again. Now we whiz through

Hinsdale an' Riverside!--I can see the lights of the city.--Engine has

whistled for the Fort Wayne crossin'! Sixteenth Street! Slow down! The

bell's beginning to ring--the lights are dancin'--Michigan Avenue! We're

runnin' for the old Lake Street Station! I'm a-folding up the flags and

takin' in the red lights--the bell's ringin' fainter--the whistle's

blowin' for brakes--the wheels are goin' slower--slower--slower--the

lights is dancin' about me--the wheels are stopped. The train is

dead--the lights is goin' out! CHICAGO!!"

And with this cry, Buck Powers goes to Heaven.

Then Erma, bending over him, and wringing her hands, and tears dropping

on his dead face, whispers: "Let us take him to Chicago, Harry, and bury

him in the city he loved so well!"

And so they do, some months afterward; and there he lies, entombed in

that silent city of the dead, beside the waters of the blue lake, and

that great city of the living. And no truer heart, nor nobler soul, will

ever tread the streets of that grand metropolis of the West, than that

of this boy, who loved it so well, and who gave his life for

gratitude--now nor to come, even if it grows to have ten millions.

CHAPTER XIX.

ORANGE BLOSSOMS AMONG THE SNOW.

So holding the dead boy in his arms, the engineer contriving to do the

firing, they journey slowly along the road to Bridger.

Here, finding telegraphic communication is still cut off with Evanston,

they know it is safe to run on to Carter.

From the freight train at this point they fortunately get a man to do

the firing of the locomotive, Lawrence paying him for the same.

The sun is rising as they pass the Carter tank, and the engineer tells

them he thinks they have got coal enough, as they are on a down grade,

to take them to Granger, for the snow is not so deep here as it was up

the mountain.

Finding no orders have been received at this point, they keep on, and

finally, about seven o'clock in the morning, they can see the passenger

train from the East, side-tracked half a mile ahead of them at Granger.

"I can't take you any further--I have got no coal--and I don't know what

the company will say to my doing what I have done!" mutters the

engineer, who is now apparently anxious as to what the Union Pacific

will think of his night's performance.

"Here's one hundred dollars!" remarks Lawrence.

"No, I did it because the young lady had been kind to my child!" and the

man shakes his head.

"You must take it!" cries Harry. "You will probably be laid off for last

night's work!"

"What? For running away from road agents?"

"Running away from sheriff's officers!"

"From officers of the law?" gasps the man of the throttle. Then he cries

out suddenly: "They'll discharge me! You've ruined me and my child with

your infernal lies!" and he looks at Lawrence with angry eyes.

But Harry says cheerfully: "If they discharge you, this young lady will

give you enough money to buy a farm in Kansas. If she doesn't, I will!

Besides," he continues, hoping to soothe the man's fears, "though those

fellows we escaped from were Mormon officers, they were acting as

bandits, and had no more legal right to do what they were doing in

Wyoming, than road agents! I'll give you a bond for the money, if

necessary, when we get to the station."

This promise, and the one hundred dollars in hand, makes the engineer

feel more comfortable, as they run alongside the passenger train at

Granger. Here many questions are asked them, and in return they discover

the wires are still down towards Evanston, and there are, of course, no

orders from division headquarters.

At this place Lawrence arranges for the transportation of the boy's body

to the East, for he is very anxious to get it out of Miss Travenion's

sight, who sits in the locomotive cab, half dazed, though when she looks

upon what was once Buck Powers, she sometimes mutters with a shudder:

"This time yesterday he was alive and happy--and now he's dead--for me,"

and fondles the boy's cold hand.

Lawrence is thus compelled to tell the story of the night's happenings,

which he does to the station agent, who acts as constable at this place.

This official looks serious, and rubs his head, and says: "Hanged if I

know what I'd better do! Buck got his death killing the infernal Mormon

in Uintah County, and this is Sweetwater! I guess you'd better take the

young lady on to Green River, and then if they want you back for a

coroner's inquest, or to try you for murder, you can go to Evanston, if

you can get there--which looks almighty dubious just about now," for

another snow-storm seems to be blowing up.

Thinking it best to follow the man's advice, and a locomotive being

compelled to go to Green River, though the wires are still down to

division headquarters, and consequently no orders, Lawrence takes the

opportunity, and succeeds, about one o'clock in the day, in getting his

sweetheart to the comforts of the Green River station, where there is

quite a town, a pleasant hotel, and plenty to eat. For all the stations

he has run by this day, at that time were but little more than telegraph

offices and water tanks, with freight-house attachments at some of them,

and have not much increased in size or importance, even to this day.

At Green River, snow comes upon them again, and the yard gets full of

trains, though none leave for the East; for the Union Pacific is

beginning to appreciate what the great blockade of 1871 means.

Telegraphic communication having been restored between Evanston and

Green River, Lawrence wires the superintendent of the division a

statement of what happened at Aspen and Piedmont, and receives the

following characteristic reply:

"Shall hold you for damage to locomotive. The homicide part of the

matter is not our business."

A day or so after this, a passenger train gets through from the West to

Green River, and walking out to meet it, Harry is astonished but

delighted to see Mr. Ferdinand Chauncey step out of one of its sleepers.

This gentleman, being brought in to see Miss Travenion, informs her of

her father's safety.

"I got him out of the mine within two hours," he says, "of Lawrence's

leaving. Together we sneaked down through Mormondom to Ogden, where your

papa concealed himself on a Central Pacific train, and is now in

California, I imagine, unless the snow-drifts on the C. P. are as bad as

on this!"

Relieved from anxiety about her father, Erma begins to pick up spirits

again, for this young lady, in her life that has been so easy up to this

time, has not been accustomed to seeing men die for her, and has not

recovered from the death of the boy at the Piedmont switch.

A little while after, Mr. Chauncey, who has an Evanston "_Age_" in his

pocket, pulls it out, and says: "Perhaps you may be interested in that!"

pointing to an article in the newspaper which is an account of the

inquest by coroner's jury held upon the body of Kruger at Evanston.

They had taken the evidence of some of the train-hands, and the verdict

had been:

"That the boy Buck Powers killed Kruger, and Kruger killed Buck Powers!

Consequently there is an all-round _nolle prosequi_ in the matter."

This rather unique finding pleases Harry immensely, for now, he

imagines, he will not be delayed in getting his sweetheart to

civilization.

Some two or three hours after, telegraphic orders being received, they

board the same train that Mr. Ferdie has come into Green River on, and

depart for the East.

Passing through Rawlings in the night, early the next day they find

themselves halted by the snow blockade at Medicine Bow, about one

hundred miles west of Laramie; and this time it seems to be a permanent

stoppage.

Train after train comes in from the West, and none from the East, they

being held there by snow, at Cooper's Lake, and tremendous drifts in the

deep cuts from Laramie towards Sherman.

Fortunately they have plenty to eat. There is a grocery store, and they

are the first of this snow blockade, and so they live on "the fat of the

land," which means canned goods of every style, and ham and bacon _ad

libitum_.

Though Ferdie rages at the delay, Lawrence, being near his sweetheart,

would be content but for one thing: Erma's position, without a chaperon,

and accompanied by two men, neither of them relatives, is

"embarrassing."

Lawrence probably appreciates this even more than she does, as now and

then remarks come to his ears, from some of the passengers on the other

trains, that he would resent, if common sense did not tell him that he

must in no way bring his sweetheart's name to any scandal.

It is partly this, and partly the natural impatience to call his own

this being he loves so much, that he is desperately afraid some accident

or chance will even now take her from him, that causes him to come to

Erma one day, and explain the matter to her.

He urges: "Why should we wait for a grand wedding in New York, dear one?

As your husband, I can show you much greater attentions, and can do

things for you that I could not as your betrothed, in the privations and

hardships of this blockade. Why not make me happy--why not marry me

here?"

But the young lady, affecting a little laugh, murmurs: "What? Before you

have given me the engagement ring you wish to use the wedding one?"

And he replies: "I wish to marry you!"

"Not by a justice of the peace!" cries the girl in horror.

"No, by a minister."

"Where will you find one?"

"On the next train behind us--the Reverend Mr. Millroy, of St. Paul.

He's anxious to do some work; he has had no pastoral duties to perform

for a month or two. Let us give him a chance--you know your father

wished it!"

This mention of her father's views perhaps actuates Erma more than she

imagines--but it also reminds her of him! She falters, "You are sure you

will never repent? Remember, I am a Mormon's daughter!"

"So you are, and the belle of Newport and the sweetest--the

dearest--the----"

But she cries, placing her patrician fingers on his moustache,

"Stop!--no more compliments!"

"You consent?"

"P-e-r-haps! When do you wish it?"

"This evening!"

"Oh!" And blushes fly over her face and neck as Lawrence goes away to

consult with Mr. Ferdie.

This young gentleman makes arrangements with the minister, and consents

to act as best man on the occasion, crying: "Thank God, Harry, you've

given me some excitement at last! I had finished my last novel and my

last cigar, and thought I should die of _ennui_ in this everlasting,

unending, eternal snow."

But even as Mr. Ferdinand makes his preparations for the nuptial _fete_,

another train from the West comes in upon the crowded railroad tracks at

Medicine Bow. On it, Oliver, Mrs. Livingston, and Louise. They do not

see Lawrence and Miss Travenion, as their cars are some little distance

apart. But Mr. Chauncey, who has a habit of visiting from one train to

another, finds them out, and after a little chuckles to himself: "This

will be the ceremony of the season! I'll--I'll have some Grace Church

effects for Mr. Ollie's benefit and discomfiture."

So after exchanging greeting with his aunt and her family, he gets Miss

Louise to one side, and explaining something to her that makes the

child's eyes grow large, bright, and excited, she suddenly gives a

scream of laughter and whispers: "I'll do it--if mother puts me on bread

and water for a week. It will make Ollie crazy."

"That's right! You always were a lovely child!" returns Mr. Chauncey.

After this, throughout the day, Louise acts as if under intense but

concealed excitement, for she says nothing to her mother and Oliver, but

every now and then gives little giggles of laughter, which so

astonishes Ollie that he remarks to Mrs. Livingston: "The privations of

this snow blockade have made the child deranged." Then he says severely:

"If I hear another insane giggle, Louise, I'll shut you up in the

stateroom;" for this young gentleman is always happy to play the

domestic tyrant.

These remarks so frighten Louise that she disappears.

About seven o'clock in the evening, Mr. Livingston remarks to Ferdie,

who has dropped into his car: "It's dreadfully tiresome! Don't you think

you could join us in a game of whist?"

"I would be delighted," replies Mr. Chauncey, "but there is going to be

an entertainment in the train next to ours. Can't you come in and enjoy

it? Eight o'clock is the hour."

"What are they going to do?"

"I don't know exactly, but I expect it's exciting."

"Well, anything is better than doing nothing," laughs Oliver, in which

his mother agrees.

So it comes to pass that the two leave their Pullman and wade through

the snow to another side track, where a palace car is brilliantly

lighted, and apparently crowded with the _elite_ of the blockaded

passengers, all in their blockade best.

At the door Oliver asks the porter: "What's going on?"

"A weddin', sah!" replies the negro. "An' they're havin' a very hard

time inside; thar wasn't no weddin' ring--but I'se just cut off one of

de curtain rings to give to de groom."

"Ah, some cowboy affair," remarks Ollie, who leads his mother into the

car, and then gives a gasp, and sinks down on an unoccupied seat, while

Mrs. Livingston, too much overcome for words, drops beside him.

For beneath a centre cluster of red and green coal-oil railroad lamps

hung up as a decoration they see Erma Travenion and Harry Lawrence being

joined in holy matrimony, and Ferdie and Louise acting as best man and

bridesmaid.

A moment after the ceremony is finished.

Then Mr. Chauncey announces that a wedding breakfast, or, rather,

wedding supper, is served in the grocery at the side of the track.

"It is not exactly a wedding breakfast," he says, "because it's evening,

but there'll be plenty of champagne, and every one is cordially invited

to attend!"

Just here, social diplomat as she is, Mrs. Livingston, gathering herself

together, gets on her feet, and coming to Erma, gives her a kiss of

congratulation, saying, "My dear, I hear you have no proper

wedding-ring--let this be your first bridal present;" and places a

magnificent ruby of her own on Mrs. Lawrence's finger.

Then they all go through the snow to the grocery, which has a back room

that is fitted up as a dining-room, where the champagne flows like water

in Western style, and a Nevada congressman with a silver tongue makes a

little address to the bride, remarking on orange blossoms in the snow.

"The snow we'll keep in the West--the orange blossoms go to the East

with the bride, God bless her! But a _Western man goes with her_!"

This sentiment appealing to Western hearts, and the champagne appealing

to Western palates, the gentlemen of the party make a great night of it.

Three days after, the snow blockade at Sherman being broken for a little

time, the trains all get under headway, and, with cheering passengers,

leave Medicine Bow, run down to Laramie, and the next morning are out of

the great snow blockade, and flying across Nebraska towards Omaha.

So, one evening just before Christmas, Harry Lawrence and his wife come

into the Grand Central Depot, New York, Erma whispering, "Did ever girl

have railroad trip like mine?--I went to find a father and found a

husband!" and her eyes beam upon Harry, who is pressing her arm to his

side.

From the station they drive to the Everett, where a telegram comes to

them from California, announcing the safety of Ralph Travenion, and that

he has shipped his Utah Central stock east by Wells, Fargo & Co., and is

returning to New York via Panama, for he does not dare to trust himself

in Utah.

Thirty days after this, Travenion strolls into their parlor at the

Everett, and looking at him, no one would ever have thought that he was

once a Mormon bishop, for he is now the same debonair exquisite of the

Unity Club that he was years ago, and gives Lawrence his father's

blessing, as one.

"My boy, we must make you an Eastern club man," he remarks. "I shall put

you up at the Unity and Stuyvesant. We're rich enough to live in the

East, and in order to make us richer, let's go over to Boston, and see

the heads of the Union Pacific!"

Which they do, and sell the control of the Utah Central, out of which

Brigham Young and his fellows go, with wailing and gnashing of teeth,

for they know that the hand of the Union Pacific is upon them in

railroad matters, and it is a grasping Gentile corporation; in proof of

which the Mormon Church does not control one railroad in Utah--though it

built nearly all of them.

Some time afterwards, over their dinner-table in New York, Travenion,

whose instincts are those of a business man yet, says: "I should have

stayed in California. There's a fortune there! Even while in San

Francisco, I made some money in mining stocks. Belcher, for instance,

had gone up very much."

"Belcher!" cries Lawrence. "Good Heavens! I've got two hundred shares of

that stock in my pocketbook, and have forgotten all about it!"

"Oh!" says Erma, "that was the stock you had when you first heard that I

was Bishop Tranyon's daughter--and you forgot your investment for me!"

"Well, Providence has rewarded him for it, for I think Belcher must be

up to a thousand dollars a share, by this time!" laughs Ralph.

And telegraphing San Francisco, Lawrence finds this is the fact, and

sells out his Belcher stock for something over eleven hundred dollars a

share, making nearly two hundred thousand dollars by the transaction.

"Luck is upon you, young man!" says the ex-bishop. "Your election comes

up at the Unity Club to-morrow. I've no doubt you'll go in--but that

Oliver Livingston may give you trouble."

"Oh, I think not!" cries Erma, "his mother has been so very kind to me,

as, in fact, have all my old friends."

For some rumors of the peculiar adventures that have made Miss Travenion

Mrs. Lawrence have got into circulation, and in them Harry has been made

a Western hero and a frontier demi-god. Besides, society is generally

very nice to a young and beautiful woman who has sixty thousand a year

of her own, a rich husband, and richer father, and who is going to have

a fine mansion on Fifth Avenue, and give many dinner parties and a

german or two each season.

"I differ with you, my dear," returns Ralph. "Oliver Livingston is an

infamous cad."

"Why, what has he done now?" asks Lawrence, noting the excitement in his

father-in-law's manner.

"What has he done?" cries Travenion. "The miserable sneak has told in

the Unity the story of the Mormon club man--the story I risked my life

to originate. I told it to-day with graphic elaboration, and Larry Jerry

and the rest only half smiled, and said they believed Mr. Livingston had

told them that yarn about a month ago. I shall never tell it again!"

"Don't!" cries his daughter. "Don't make me ashamed of you." Then she

says more calmly: "What have you done about your families out there?"

"Oh, they're provided for _well_!" remarks Ralph. "I believe one of

them, the genuine Mrs. Travenion"--he winces a little at the

title--"would have made me trouble, but I think the Church instructed

her to let me alone; I know a few secrets of theirs that make them quite

amiable to me, now I'm out of their clutches. Their delegate to

congress, the one who has four wives in Utah, and declares he is not a

polygamist in Washington, might not like me to explain what I know of

his large family," chuckles the old gentleman.

But for all this, he does not tell the story of Bishop Tranyon, the New

York dandy, very often.

His guess about Oliver Livingston, however, was a shrewd one. For

chancing to be on the Governing Committee of the Unity when Lawrence's

name comes up for membership, he sneaks in a black-ball, as many another

prig and coward, from envy and malice and uncharitableness, has done

before, and will do to come.

But this doesn't count much, for Ferdie, who chances to be its youngest

member, has gone about with his winning manner and boyish frankness, and

has button-holed everybody, saying, "Hang it! You must put Harry

Lawrence through. He's the man who saved my life. He's from the wild and

woolly West, but some day he's going to make New York howl!"

So Lawrence goes in.

Though he doesn't do quite as much as Ferdie has promised for him--for

he is too happy to be inordinately ambitious--and is contented to be a

successful railroad director, and have a yacht on the water and a villa

in Newport, and a town-house on the avenue, and to be the husband of

Miss Dividends.

FINIS.

* * * * *

ARCHIBALD CLAVERING GUNTER'S

Celebrated Novels.

MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK.

MR. POTTER OF TEXAS.

THAT FRENCHMAN!

MISS NOBODY OF NOWHERE.

A FLORIDA ENCHANTMENT.

_Story for Children of All Ages._

SMALL BOYS IN BIG BOOTS.

End of Project Gutenberg's Miss Dividends, by Archibald Clavering Gunter