Late that afternoon Arthur and Louise sat in the court, chatting with
their guests, who were occupied in coddling and amusing baby Jane, when
Inez approached Mr. Weldon and said that Miguel wished to speak with
him.
“Send him here,” said Arthur, and presently the old Mexican appeared,
again arrayed in his best clothes and with the red necktie carefully
arranged. He held his hat in his hand and looked uncertainly around the
circle. Then his eyes wandered to the nursery and through the open door
he saw Mildred sitting in a rocker, engaged in reading a book. Runyon
had gone home that morning, “to see if the ranch is still there,” he
said.
“I have—some—private talks to make, Meest Weld,” began the old ranchero.
“Speak out, Miguel,” said his master encouragingly.
“Oh; but he said ‘private,’” Patsy reminded him.
“I know. Miguel understands that he may speak before my friends.”
“It ees—about—Señor Cristoval, Meest Weld.”
“Yes? Well, what about him, Miguel?”
“I am once servant for Señor Cristoval. I stay here in house with him,
long time. When he get sick, before he die, I care for him. Doctor say
to me that Señor Cristoval can not get well; I say so to Señor
Cristoval. He say never mind, he have live long enough.”
This was interesting to them all in view of the recent happenings, and
the girls bent nearer to hear the old man’s story. Arthur, the major and
Uncle John were equally intent.
“Señor Cristoval, he say, when he get very bad, there ees one thing he
hate to leave, an’ that ees—his money,” continued Miguel. “He say, money
ees his bes’ friend, all time. But he no can take money where he will
go. He ees mad that many poor fools will spend the money he have love
an’ cared for. So he make me take three big bag of gold an’ drive to
bank an’ put away so the poor fools will find it. Much more money ees in
bank, too. Then, when doctor come, he ask me when he will die, an’
doctor say when sun next shine Señor Cristoval will not see it. Doctor
want to stay all night, but Señor Cristoval pay an’ tell him go. He want
to die alone.
“But I am there. Some time in night Señor Cristoval he call an’ say:
‘Miguel, I mus’ not die till I have give to Leighton what belong to him.
I have keep Leighton’s money for him. I will show you where it ees hid,
so you can give it to Leighton.’”
Ah, they were intent enough now. Intuitively each listener seemed to
know that a secret was about to be revealed and many glances were cast
toward the unconscious Mildred, who continued to read placidly. But no
one interrupted the old Mexican.
“I help Senor Cristoval to stand up. He ees not strong, so I hold him.
He walk from blue room to back room an’ there he show me how to take
block from wall. Behind block ees big place for money. Señor Cristoval
he say all money what belong to Leighton ees there. He tell me count it.
So I put Señor Cristoval in chair an’ he watch while I take out money
an’ count. There ees four bag. I count three bag an’ he say good, it ees
right. He say count last bag. So I empty bag on floor an’ count gold an’
put in bag again. When thees ees done I say: ‘Is eet right?’ But Señor
Cristoval say nothing. I look up, an’ Señor Cristoval ees dead.”
The old man spoke simply and quietly, but they found his relation
intensely dramatic. Patsy was trembling with excitement. Beth clasped
Louise’s hand and found it cold from nervousness.
“And then, Miguel?” said Arthur.
“Then, Meest Weld, I put gold in wall an’ fix block so no one know an’
carry Señor Cristoval to his bed. That ees all, Meest Weld.”
“And you told no one of Leighton’s gold?”
“I tell no one. It ees belong to Leighton.”
“Where is it now, Miguel?”
“In wall, Meest Weld.”
“All of it?”
“All.”
There was a moment’s pause.
“You know now that it belongs to Mildred—to Leighton’s daughter,—do you
not?” he asked, an accent of sternness in his voice.
“I know, Meest Weld.”
“Then why did you not tell us of this before?”
Old Miguel stood silent, shifting from one foot to another, his eyes
cast down, his slender brown fingers spasmodically pressing the rim of
his sombrero. But when he spoke it was in his former quiet manner.
“I am a bad man, Meest Weld. I theenk I keep gold for myself. Why not,
when no one know? Long time after Señor Cristoval die no one come here.
Some time I go to room an’ count gold. When I see it I have bad thought.
I theenk it ees nice if I keep all myself. But when I go away an’ work
in the grove, I tell Miguel many time that gold ees not his; it ees
Leighton’s gold. I say when Leighton come for it he mus’ have it. But
Leighton do not come. Many year the gold ees mine, an’ no one know. Then
come Leighton’s girl, an’ I know I am bad man if I keep gold. But I say
nothing. I theenk no one ever know.”
“But tell me,” said Arthur curiously, “what good is the money to you
when it is hidden in a wall?”
“Not much, Meest Weld; but I know I am rich. I say I can buy ranch an’
be big man, an’ no one know I have steal Leighton’s gold.”
“Then why have you told us the secret?”
Miguel glanced toward the nursery.
“I am man for work,” said he. “Always I work; always I mus’ work. I am
old. When I can no work, I mus’ die. Señor Cristoval mus’ leave gold
when he die; it ees same with Miguel. Now I have good job. I can work
an’ be happy. But—”
“Well, Miguel?”
“Leighton’s daughter, she ees a girl. A girl can not work like a man. It
ees her gold, not mine. When you say it, I will show you where
Leighton’s gold ees hid.”
Uncle John sprang up and grasped the man’s hand.
“You are an honest fellow, Miguel!” he cried.
“No, Meest Mereek,” was the reply. “I have wish to steal, so I am not
honest.”
“But you have given up the gold.”
“Yes, Meest Mereek; because I am afraid.”
“I don’t believe a word of it,” said Patsy. “You were tempted to do
wrong, Miguel, and if you had kept silent no one would ever have known;
but you told us of the gold, and so you are faithful and true.”
“Ah, that ees what Meest Leighton tell me, some time,” said he. “An’
that ees what spoil me from being bad. Because Leighton say I am
faithful an’ true, I have theenk I mus’ be that way. That ees it.”
————
Mildred’s gold proved to be a small fortune. Perhaps Cristoval had added
to his partner’s earnings, for the child’s sake, for the total amounted
to more than she had ever expected.
It was all in hard cash and Arthur drove over to the bank and deposited
it to the credit of Mildred Travers, as she preferred to retain that
name.
Patsy and Beth were curious to know what the girl would do with her
windfall, but Mildred proved noncommittal.
“How about Bul Run?” asked Patsy.
Mildred smiled but blushed deeply at the question.
“Would my money be enough to pay his mortgages?” she inquired.
“Perhaps,” said Beth, “but that would be foolish. He would soon be in
debt again.”
“No, no!” protested Patsy. “I’m sure he will reform if—”
“If Mildred marries him?”
“Yes.”
Mildred seemed troubled.
“The best way,” declared Beth, “would be to have Mildred keep her money
in her own name, and help out in case of emergency.”
Mildred approved that, and being pressed by the two girls she frankly
confided to them that she would accept Mr. Runyon when he came for his
answer.
Runyon appeared on the third day and Arthur met him and told him the
good news of the finding of Mildred’s inheritance. But the effect of
this discovery on the big rancher was to overwhelm him with despair.
“She will never marry me now,” he asserted in doleful tones, “and I’d
rather die than ask her. It would be beastly to take such an advantage
of the poor child. When she was poor, I could offer her a home with good
grace, but now that she’s rolling in gold the jig is up! If you’ll tell
me, where I can find old Miguel, I’ll strangle the villain. Why in
thunder couldn’t he hold his tongue?”
Arthur laughingly replied that money wouldn’t make a particle of
difference with a girl like Mildred, but Runyon would not listen and
remained disconsolate. He stayed at the ranch, but moped around with a
woe-begone countenance and refused to speak with anyone.
Patsy and Beth skillfully contrived several opportunities for Runyon to
approach Mildred, but he ignored all chances and preferred to remain
miserable. The day passed without his demanding his answer. Mildred had
been bright and expectant and the girls read her disappointment when her
unaccountable wooer delayed putting his fortune to the test.
The next day he was no more cheerful, but rather seemed to have
accumulated an added gloom. He sought a garden bench and smoked
innumerable cigars in solitary grief. If anyone approached, Runyon would
retreat to the shrubbery. At mealtime he was likewise silent but
consumed enormous quantities of food, which made Patsy accuse him of
being an impostor.
“No regulation lover,” she said to him, “ever had an appetite. The
novels all say so. Therefore you can’t love Mildred a bit.”
Runyon groaned, cast her a reproachful glance and went on eating.
Several days passed without his asking Mildred for her answer, and now
the absurd situation began to get on all their nerves. Mildred herself
grew impatient and watched from the nursery window the garden bench on
which Runyon sat gloomily in his perpetual cloud of smoke.
“He’ll make himself sick, with those black cigars, I’m sure,” observed
Patsy, on one occasion.
“And he can’t afford to smoke so many,” added Beth. “Unless this thing
stops, he’ll soon have to take out a new mortgage.”
“Or sell some lemons,” added Patsy.
“I believe,” said Mildred slowly, as if summoning her courage, “I will
speak to him myself. Don’t you think that would be best?”
“Of course,” approved Patsy. “Runyon is a big baby, and needs a nurse
more than little Jane. I’ll hold Toodlums, Mildred, while you sally
forth and take the bull by the horns.”
Mildred looked at Beth for counsel.
“Unless you speak to him,” said that young lady, “you will never get
together. Moreover, the rest of us will grow mad or idiotic. So, for all
our sakes, you’d better take Mr. Runyon in hand. You’ll have to manage
him afterward, anyhow, so the sooner you begin the better.”
Mildred handed little Jane to Patsy and left the nursery. Through the
window the other girls watched her approach Mr. Runyon and stand before
him. At once he stood up and threw away his cigar, but his face was
toward them and they could see that he did not speak.
Mildred, however, was talking very earnestly. Runyon shook his head. He
turned half away. Then he swung sharply around and caught the girl in
his arms.
“Come, Beth,” said Patsy; “let’s go and tell Louise.”