PIERRE, now my sketches and plans are finished, how am I going to pass
the time?” It was some ten days after the affair at La Siesta, and
Dick had spent the interval in close and absorbed work over his drawing
board. Happy in his occupation, he had not felt the restraints of
confinement.
But now that the task was completed, and the big cardboard cylinder
containing the set of drawings rested on the ledge of the easel all
ready to be sent away on its mission, a feeling of chafing restlessness
had ensued.
“Good Lord, a fellow can’t read all day,” Dick went on, half in
soliloquy, half addressing his companion.
“Monsieur is comfortable here?” asked the latter solicitously.
“I should say, old fellow. I was never in better quarters in all my
life.”
“And zere is nothing more I could get for ze table?”
“For goodness sake, don’t talk like that, Pierre! In any ease I don’t
worry about what I eat. But this is a regular Delmonico’s. Guadalupe
is certainly a crackerjack cook. She is even better than Sing Ling.
Wherever did she learn to turn out all these little delicacies? And just
my favorite dishes, too.”
Pierre smiled enigmatically.
“Guadalupe very clever old squaw,” he remarked.
“I would like to know her better. But she keeps out of my sight all the
time.”
“Guadalupe is very old. She has her fixed ideas.”
“I suppose that means she does not love the Americans.”
“No doubt. She prefer to be alone—alone with ze white wolf all ze time.
And where the white wolf is, monsieur dare not go.”
“I understand that all right,” laughed Willoughby. “I strolled only
once toward the log fire, and the brute showed me a set of teeth which I
never wish to see again.”
“Ze white wolf guard ze cave well,” remarked Pierre, sententiously.
“Oh, I’m not thinking of trying to run away. You know I would never
break my word. But what the dickens am I to do all day long?”
“What do you say? Suppose we go to ze riffle and wash out some gold.”
“Great Scott!” exclaimed Dick eagerly. “That’s not a bad suggestion. But
Don Manuel won’t mind?”
“He will be very pleased—he has no use for ze gold.”
“And Guadalupe?”
“Long ago she would have killed you if you had gone zere. But not now.
She very old, and all her people are dead.”
“And the white wolf? That confounded beast won’t interfere?”
“No, no. Ze white wolf stay near Guadalupe all ze time.”
“Then, by jove, it’s a bully idea,” cried Dick. “It gets me all right.
We’ll turn miners, Pierre, and we’ll have a rare old sack of nuggets to
divide when the time comes for me to go free. I’ll be better off in the
end than if I were holding down my old job at the rancho,” he laughed
gaily.
“I will find ze spades and ze pans to wash ze gravel. When shall we
begin?”
“Well, wait now,” replied Dick, glancing reflectively at the roll of
drawings. “I’ve got to send these plans away. I want you to get them
at once into the hands of my friend, Lieutenant Chester Munson. He will
know how to forward them to their proper destination.”
“May I suggest one zing?”
“Go ahead, Pierre. What’s in your mind?”
“I venture to make one little suggestion. Why not ask ze young lady to
take ze plans to your friend?”
“Miss Merle Farnsworth?” asked Dick in surprise. “But how am I to do
that?”
“I will promise to arrange a meeting—zat is, if you are not afraid of
Mr. Thurston and his men.”
“Afraid!” shouted Dick. “You give me the chance to see Merle again, and
old Ben Thurston and all his sleuths may go to blazes.”
“Zen I will arrange, and I zink it will please ze young lady very much
to have ze honor of taking care of ze plans.”
“You mean it will be a mighty honor for the plans to be in her care,
Pierre. But I know she will gladly do me this service. How and when can
I see her?”
“Be ready tomorrow morning by ten o’clock. I will take you to a quiet
place among ze old oak trees.”
“Pierre, you’re a regular brick,” cried Dick, as he slapped the old
Frenchman on the shoulder in the exuberance of his delight.
The following morning they started out for the trysting place. Dick
without demur submitted to the usual precautions. He was blindfolded
before mounting his pony in the great central domed cavern and it was
not until a couple of hours later, after a veritable switchback ride up
and down and round about in a bewildering maze, that he was permitted
to remove the bandage. Dismounting, he found himself in the heart of a
great oak forest, in what precise locality he could not tell, for there
was nothing in sight but endless vistas of tree trunks under their thick
canopy of green leaves.
Pierre touched him on the shoulder, and he followed the direction of
the Frenchman’s eyes. There, advancing through the sylvan twilight, was
Merle Farnsworth, her hands eagerly extended, her face lighted with joy.
Following at a little distance came Tia Teresa.
Dick, hastening to meet Merle, took both her hands into his, and gazed
deep into her eyes.
“Oh, it’s great to meet you again,” he exclaimed. “And this is my first
chance to thank you for having saved me the other night. My word, but
you were quick to think and to act. You cannot know how I admired your
courage and coolness.”
“Nonsense, nonsense,” protested Merle, in sweet blushing confusion. “You
make far too much of the little I did.”
“You saved my life,” said Dick, determinedly. “You can call that a
little thing if you choose.”
“No, no,” she replied, earnestly. “If I really did that, then it was
truly a big thing.”
“For me.”
“And for all of us,” she added, with face half-averted.
“And you, too?” pressed Dick.
“Yes, for me, too,” answered Merle, turning round and frankly meeting
his gaze. “I should never have been happy again had any harm come to you
there—that night—in my very home—without a proper effort to get you away
to a place of safety.”
“God bless you, Merle, dear,” exclaimed Dick, as again he pressed her
hands. He had been carried away by his fervent emotions, but she did not
resent the familiar and endearing manner of his address.
He would have taken her in his arms there and then, but Merle drew back
and gave a little glance aside. Then Dick remembered Tia Teresa. To his
astonishment he found her chatting with Pierre Luzon as if they were old
friends.
Dick left Merle for the moment to greet the duenna.
“And I have to thank you, too, for helping me,” he said. Then he added
with a laugh: “When am I to be privileged to wear that mantilla again?”
“You are not to be allowed to endanger yourself again,” replied Tia
Teresa. “And I warn you now. We remain here only half an hour—these are
our orders.”
“Whose orders?”
“Never mind. Just one half hour, that is all.”
“Then I’ll make the best of my time,” exclaimed Dick, turning toward
Merle. “I see you won’t be lonely with my gallant friend, Pierre Luzon,”
he added with a smile.
“Oh, I knew Pierre when he was just as handsome a young fellow as
yourself,” retorted Tia Teresa. “But we’ll excuse you, and Pierre will
keep the time.”
Dick led Merle down a glade of the forest, but before doing so he had
unstrapped the roll of drawings from the horn of his saddle.
“What are you carrying so very carefully?” asked Merle.
“My plans for the ideal city. I told you I was going to have a try in
that competition.”
“I hope you’ll have good luck.”
“Well, I want you to help me. Will you take this package, please, to
Chester Munson and ask him to send it to the proper address?”
“With the greatest of pleasure, Mr. Willoughby,”—and she put forth her
hands for the roll.
“No—we’ll lay it down here for the present. This log will serve as a
seat. See, this twisted, limb makes quite a comfortable nook for you.”
He had halted at a fallen tree, had dropped the drawing on the turf, and
was now dusting away the twigs and leaves from the seat he had chosen.
“Cannot I look at the drawings?” she asked, after settling herself
cosily.
“Before handing them to Munson, if you like. But there are other things
to talk about now.” As he spoke he tossed his hat on the ground at her
feet.
“Are you growing impatient over your confinement?” she asked.
“Impatient—it is hardly the word. I long to be out in the world again.
I could never have endured the long seclusion but for my work over these
drawings and my thoughts of you.”
“Why me?”
“I have felt that I am doing the best for your sake as well as my own.
I would not have had you subjected to the vulgar gaze of a crowded court
room—not for worlds. The very thought that I have saved you from that
has made me contented with my enforced idleness.”
“Not idleness,” she said, tapping the roll of drawings with the toe of
her shoe.
“Well, no, not idleness exactly.”
“And I do hope you’ll win the prize,” she added, looking up into his
eyes.
“So do I. But perhaps you don’t know what I count to be the real prize.”
0255
“Pray, what is that?”
Dick thrust a hand into the breast of his coat and brought forth a
pocket book. From this he produced a little package, and opening the
folds of paper disclosed the white rose which she had sent him on the
night of his escape from La Siesta.
“Where did you get that?” she asked demurely.
“It is your rose—the rose you sent me.”
“I did not know you were so partial to roses as to keep them after they
are withered.” Her voice trembled; she bravely tried to keep up the
pretence of not understanding.
“It is not the gift I treasure—it is the thought of who was the giver.”
A blush stole over her beautiful face, while the long drooping eyelashes
half concealed her brown eyes. Dick’s arms slipped around the girl’s
slender waist.
“Merle, my dear, I love you. For months past I have known that there is
no woman on earth for me but you. I would have spoken before, but I have
always been afraid that you could not love me, and that talk of such a
thing might terminate a friendship that had become my greatest pleasure
in life.”
For reply, placing one hand on his shoulder, she just buried her face in
his breast and gave way to tears—tears of joy, he knew, as he kissed her
hair again and again, and then at last her lips when she allowed him to
raise her face toward his.
“My darling,” he murmured, and the kiss she gave him back accepted and
returned the words of fond endearment.
A moment of restful bliss followed; then Merle gently disengaged herself
and rose to her feet.
“What will Tia Teresa say?” she asked, laughingly, as she glanced over
her shoulder.
“I think Tia Teresa knew all about my love long ago,” replied Dick.
“Yes, both she and Pierre Luzon, too.”
“Then you have been wearing your heart on your sleeve.”
“Or we have been surrounded by very observant people. But, I say, Merle,
this reminds me of a thing I had quite forgotten for the moment.” His
face fell. “There is one great barrier that stands between us.”
“What do you mean? You are surely too strong and purposeful a man to
care for barriers.”
“I never knew until the other day that you are so very rich.”
“Rich!” laughed Merle. “Who ever told you such a foolish thing? While
of course I have never felt poverty, don’t you know that I am absolutely
dependent upon Mrs. Darlington’s kindness and generosity to me, her
adopted daughter?”
A smile of understanding broke over Dick’s face.
“You tell me that? I am so delighted,” he exclaimed.
“You surely know my story well enough,” continued Merle, “not to have
mistaken me for an heiress. I lost both father and mother when I was
a baby. Mrs. Darlington took me to her heart, and no mother could have
been dearer and sweeter than she, no sister kinder and more loving than
Grace. But I am proud to think they have loved me for my own sake, not
for any wealth I might have owned.”
“Then there is no barrier,” cried Dick, as once again he drew her to
him. “Unless my poverty is a barrier,” he added. “But won’t I work hard
all my life to give you every comfort you can desire!”
“Well, we’ll have a good start at all events,” said Merle, with a merry
little upglance.
“How’s that?”
“The ten-thousand-dollar prize for the best plans. Have you forgotten
about that already?”
“But it is not won yet.”
“Oh, I have the firm presentiment that you are going to win, Dick, dear.
I am sure of it—sure!” she repeated in a tone of conviction.
Her face was aglow and Dick caught the spirit of her enthusiasm.
“Then I’m sure, too. And, by jove, won’t we have one grand honeymoon
trip, dearest?”