For the first week or two, Guy Cameron's recovery was slow, but at the
expiration of that time his vigorous constitution reasserted itself,
and he gained rapidly.
Meanwhile, at Silver City, affairs were progressing under the
efficient management of Mr. Whitney, the clear-headed attorney from
New York.
When orders for arrest were first issued, it was soon discovered that
the office of the North Western Mining, Land & Investment Company was
practically deserted. None of their books or papers were to be found,
their clerks had been dismissed, and no trace existed of the officers
of the company. No information regarding their whereabouts could be
obtained from any of the officers of the several high-titled companies
occupying the same room, as they were supremely and serenely
unconscious that anything out of the usual order had occurred, and
full of regrets that they were unable to furnish the desired
information.
Blaisdell was discovered the following day, in company with his eldest
son, in an old abandoned mine about two miles from town, which he
claimed they were working, his limited means not allowing him to
wander far from the scene of his crimes. He was brought back to town
and held pending the discovery of Wilson and Rivers, for whom
detectives were searching in every direction. The former was never
found, but at the end of about two weeks, the latter was run to earth
in an eastern city, where he was masquerading in snow-white wig and
beard and colored eye-glasses, as a retired and invalid clergyman,
living in great seclusion.
Blaisdell and Rivers were tried on the charge of murder, the most
important witnesses for the prosecution being Everard Houston and
Morton Rutherford; the latter testifying as to the nature of the final
and fatal dispatch sent on that eventful day, in which he was
corroborated by the telegraph operator of the Silver City office, who
had been found and secured as a witness, and who verified Rutherford's
statements regarding the message, but at the same time cleared Mr.
Blaisdell from all connection therewith; the message having been sent
by Rivers in Blaisdell's absence, whether with his knowledge and
consent, they were unable to ascertain. The charge against Blaisdell
was therefore dismissed through lack of evidence, while in Rivers'
case, a verdict was returned for manslaughter, and he was given the
extreme limit of the law, imprisonment for ten years.
Blaisdell was then speedily arraigned for a new trial on the charge of
embezzlement, the date on which his case was set for hearing being the
same as that upon which his partner in crime was to be transferred to
the state penitentiary.
On that morning, however, the guard on going to the cell occupied by
Rivers, found him just expiring, having succeeded in smuggling into
his cell a quantity of morphine, how or when, no one could ascertain.
He left a letter in which he stated that no state penitentiary had
ever held him, or ever would, but that "as the game was up" he would
give them a few particulars regarding his past life. He gave his true
name, the name of a man who, twenty-five years before, had been wanted
in the state of New York for a heavy bank robbery and murder. For
years, under an alias, he had belonged to a gang of counterfeiters in
Missouri, but upon the discovery and arrest of the leaders of the
band, he had assumed his present alias and had come west.
As Blaisdell took his place that morning in the prisoner's box, he was
a pitiable object. Haunted almost to madness by the awful fate of his
associate, confronted by an overwhelming array of evidence, furnished
by Houston, Van Dorn and Lindlay, including also a deposition of Guy
Cameron's, taken in his sick-room, his own abject and hopeless
appearance bore the most damaging testimony against him. His case was
quickly decided, his sentence being for seven years.
After the trial, Morton Rutherford and Van Dorn returned at once to
the camp, and a day or two later, when business affairs had at last
been satisfactorily adjusted, Mr. Cameron and Houston returned,
bringing with them Mr. Whitney and Lindlay, for a visit of a week
among the mountains, before the entire party should return east.
It was now early in the fall. Already the nights were frosty, but the
days were royal as only early autumnal days among the mountains can
be. Every breath was exhilarating, each inhalation seeming laden with
some subtle elixir of life.
Guy Cameron was now convalescent, able to sit with his friends in the
low, rustic porch, or even to join them in short strolls among the
rocks by the lake.
One afternoon they all sat in and about the porch, in the soft, hazy
sunlight, the vines and shrubbery about them brilliant in their
autumnal tints of crimson and orange and gold. The group was complete,
with the exception of Mr. Cameron and Mr. Whitney, who still lingered
within doors, engaged in drawing up some papers of which no one seemed
to understand the import, excepting Houston, who had just left the
gentlemen to join the group outside.
It was a strikingly beautiful picture; Mrs. Cameron seated in
the center, with her sweet face and snow-white hair, and on either
side a lovely daughter. Near Lyle were seated Guy Cameron and
Morton Rutherford,--between whom there already existed a deep
affinity,---with their faces of remarkable strength and beauty.
On the grass, just outside the porch, in various easy attitudes,
were Ned Rutherford, Van Dorn and Lindlay, and it was noticeable
that under the influence of late events, even Ned's boyish face
was gradually assuming a far more mature and thoughtful expression.
As Houston seated himself beside Leslie, both she and Lyle observed
that his face was lighted with a smile of deep satisfaction, but he
remained silent, and the conversation continued as before, the members
of the little group engaged in anticipations of their return to their
respective homes, and in comments upon this particular portion of the
west with which they had become familiar.
"Which will you love best, Jack, my dear," Lyle asked of Guy in low
tones, using the old form of address still very dear to her, "the
eastern home, or the mountains?"
"My old home was never so dear to me as now," he replied, "but I am
deeply attached to the mountains; for years they were my only friends,
and I shall wish to look upon them occasionally in the future."
"Well," Ned Rutherford was saying, "I wouldn't have thought it, but
I've got so attached to this place out here, I'd like an excuse of
some sort,--some kind of business, you know,--that would bring me here
part of the time; what do you think, Mort?"
"I think our associations here have had a great deal to do with the
attractions of the place, but as a quiet retreat in which to spend a
few weeks of each summer, I can not imagine a more delightful place."
"Everard, of what are you thinking so deeply?" demanded Lyle, watching
his thoughtful face, "you have not spoken a word since you came out."
"I am thinking of the evening when first we had Mr. Lindlay and Mr.
Van Dorn as guests in this house; thinking of the contrast between
then and now; that was ushering in the close of the old regime, and
this is the eve of the new."
"When will the mines be reopened?" inquired Van Dorn.
"Just as soon as possible after the rebuilding of the plant, next
spring."
"All these mines will be owned and controlled by the New York company,
will they not?"
"Yes, and they will probably purchase other good properties."
"'Pon my soul, but that will make a fine plant, out 'ere!" exclaimed
Lindlay.
"I should say so," responded Van Dorn.
Just at that instant, Mr. Cameron and Mr. Whitney appeared, the latter
carrying a large roll of legal cap, covered with his well-known
hieroglyphics.
"My dear," said Mr. Cameron, seating himself beside his wife and a
little in the rear of the remainder of the group, "Mr. Whitney and
myself have been engaged in drawing up the articles of incorporation
of the new mining company to be organized out here very shortly, and
I thought perhaps you and the young people would be interested in
them. I want to say that they are drawn up subject to the approval of
all parties interested, and after you have heard them read, we want
you to express your opinions, jointly and severally. Mr. Whitney, as I
believe you are the only one who would be able to read those
cabalistic signs, we will now listen to you."
Amid a general laugh at Mr. Whitney's expense, he began the reading of
the articles of incorporation. The first article, setting forth the
object of the corporation, was read, and by the time Mr. Whitney had
reached the second, the members of the party were all attention.
"Article II. This corporation shall be known as The Rocky Mountain
Mining Company."
A murmur of approval ran through the little group, and the sonorous
tones continued:
"Article III. The officers of the company hereby incorporated shall be
as follows: Walter E. Cameron, president; Walter E. Houston,
vice-president; Guy M. Cameron, treasurer and general manager; Edward
B. Rutherford, Jr., secretary."
Mr. Cameron, from his post of observation, watching to see the effect
produced by the reading of this document, did not have to wait long.
The faces of the ladies expressed their delight, while Ned Rutherford
was speechless with astonishment; but it was the figure half reclining
in the invalid chair that he watched most closely; it was his son's
approval that he most desired.
At the mention of his name, Guy Cameron had given a slight start, but
he now lay with closed eyes, the only sign of emotion visible being
that his pale face had grown still paler. Only the preceding day, Guy
and his parents had held their first and only conversation together
regarding the time so long past, Mr. and Mrs. Cameron intending it to
be the first and last allusion which should be made to that sad time.
Guy well knew that all was forgiven; he knew that the unhappy secret
had been guarded with such loving care that his reputation was
untarnished, there was nothing to be recalled against him on his
return; yet he would consent only to a brief visit to the old home; he
would not yet return permanently.
"Let me first go into business somewhere, and retrieve myself in my
own eyes at least," he had said, "not be taken back as a prodigal."
Mr. Cameron had conferred with Houston, and both hoped that a
responsible position in the newly organized company, amid the old
familiar scenes and work, and associated with those to whom he had
become personally attached, would more than meet his wishes. Mr.
Cameron had wished to make him general manager on account of his
familiarity with the business, while Houston wished him to hold the
office of treasurer, as token of their perfect trust; hence the two
were combined.
After all the articles of incorporation had been read in full, the
little group broke up, and crowded around the newly-chosen young
officers with many congratulations.
"Great Scott!" ejaculated Ned, "I never was so thunder struck in my
life! Accept it? well, I should say so, Mr. Cameron, and with many
thanks; you couldn't have picked out anything that would suit me
better. I guess," he added in a confidential aside to Houston, "I
guess that will fix the old fellow down there in Boston all right."
Guy grasped his father's hand and Houston's in a manner that removed
every anxiety from their minds.
"It is more than satisfactory," he said, "more than I could wish."
The following day, Mr. Whitney, Lindlay and Van Dorn returned east,
leaving the "family party" as they laughingly styled themselves, to
follow later.
Among the pleasant surprises of those last few days of their stay, it
was discovered that Leslie Gladden, whom Mrs. Cameron and Lyle had
urged to make her home with them upon their return, was the owner of a
palatial residence not many blocks from their own city home, besides
having a snug little fortune in bonds and stocks.
Houston's surprise was unbounded, but remembering how he had won
Leslie's love, there was little he could say.
"I thought you once said you never had a home of your own," he
remarked in considerable perplexity.
"Well," she replied archly, "a residence is not necessarily a home; it
has never been a home to me since my earliest recollection, but it
will be one soon, in the truest sense of the word."
One morning a few days later, they awoke to find the mountains about
them white with snow, and a light snowfall in the canyon; and though
the latter vanished presently under the balmy breath of a "chinook,"
it had given them warning that the winter king was approaching, and
would soon seize the scepter from autumn's hand, to begin his long
reign among the mountains.
That day, the old house which had witnessed such varied scenes within
the past few months, was closed, and a very joyous party started for
Silver City, the initial point of the long eastward journey, their
hearts throbbing with delight that they were homeward bound.
In the first carriage rode Mr. and Mrs. Cameron and their newly-found
son and daughter, while following so closely that their merry jokes
and song and laughter were intermingled, were Everard Houston, Leslie
Gladden and the two brothers; and as they passed down the winding
canyon road, casting loving, farewell glances at the friendly peaks,
clad that day in dazzling brightness, and recalled their first coming
to the heart of the Rockies, they were, one and all, agreed that the
end was better than the beginning.
* * * * *
According to Houston's prediction, the mines were reopened the
following year, and operated on a far more extensive scale. On the
site of the old mills, an immense building was erected, thoroughly
equipped with the latest improvements in mining machinery and
electrical and mechanical appliances. The old mines were repaired and
extended and new properties were purchased, giving employment to
hundreds of men. Early in the second year, a railroad was constructed
by the company, extending up the canyon from the Y, to the camp, for
the transportation of ore, mining supplies, freight and passengers.
As the mines were enlarged and new properties developed, quite a
community sprang up in that vicinity, which, after the construction of
the railroad, speedily developed into a typical mining town; and now,
after a lapse of three years, few would recognize the old camp.
Half way up the steep grade from the Y, is the smelting plant of the
company, while at the terminus of the road, are the long, stone
storehouses, at one end of which is the general office and a pleasant
reception room. Next comes the great milling and reduction plant,
while just beyond are the offices of the company, a fine, three-story
brick building. From this building can be seen, in one direction the
extensive mining works, with their labyrinth of shafts and tunnels,
diggings and dumps; while in another direction are stretched the homes
of the miners, the boarding houses, and, at a little distance, the
post-office, hotel, stores and shops of the little town, as well as a
tasteful church and school house. As one gazes upon the peaceful
picture of the mountain town, there is nothing to recall the frightful
scene of destruction and ruin of only three years past.
There is little to remind one of former times, until, having followed
the broad, winding road for some distance, one suddenly comes upon a
familiar sight. Nestling at the foot of the pine-covered mountain, on
the site of the old boarding house, is a beautiful, wide-spreading
stone cottage, so built that its numerous bow-windows take in a view
of the azure lake and shining cascades, as well as of the surrounding
peaks and the sunset sky; and on the broad, vine-covered veranda, is a
well-known group, who come from their distant, city homes, to spend a
few weeks of each summer amid the grandeur and beauty of the
mountains, to listen to the whispering of the pines and the music of
the cascades.
Morton Rutherford and his bride are here; Lyle, physically and
mentally developed into royal, radiant womanhood, more beautiful than
ever, but to whom there comes occasionally an irresistible longing to
revisit her old mountain home, for the years of happiness and love
have obliterated all bitter memories of the loveless, joyless
childhood, and only the remembrance of its beauty remains.
By her side, is Guy Cameron, his proud, erect bearing showing the
change which these few years have wrought in his life; lonely and
solitary no longer, for near him is a queenly woman, who, knowing the
sad secret of his past, will share and brighten his future.
Everard Houston and his lovely wife need no introduction, but, beside
them is a little stranger, possessing Leslie's wondrous dark eyes, but
Houston's features,--another little Marjorie,--while beside the wee
maiden is a small chevalier, only two months her senior, rejoicing in
the name of Morton Rutherford. In the dignified, business-like face of
the proud father, it is difficult to recognize the former Ned
Rutherford, but while possessing still the same light-hearted nature,
yet the responsibilities intrusted to him, and the years of constant
association with a man like Everard Houston, have developed a business
ability surprising even to himself. As secretary of the Rocky Mountain
Mining Company, he has proved to be the right man in the right place,
thereby reflecting much credit upon Houston's insight and good
judgment in selecting him for the position. By his side is a fair
woman, the "Grace" of whom he used to dream when first he visited the
mountains.
Strolling up and down the graveled walks, in consultation regarding
the mines, are two figures, one of whom is easily recognized as Arthur
Van Dorn, mining expert for the company, and superintendent of the
milling and reduction plant. The energetic, business man by his side
is M. T. Donovan, superintendent of the entire mining plant, but a
second glance is necessary to recognize in him, Mike, the old-time
miner, and the faithful friend of Guy Cameron in his years of
loneliness. Donovan and Van Dorn present a striking contrast, but they
are good friends, and the latter's personation of the former, on a
certain occasion, is a standing joke between them.
There is one more familiar figure, not to be omitted, and that is Rex,
stretched on the soft grass in an attitude of perfect content, his
nose resting on his paws, his eyes fixed on his master's face with the
old-time devotion.
Beautiful as this picture may be, it is not quite complete without a
glimpse of a far-away, eastern home, where, in the gloaming, beside an
open grate, sit a couple with peaceful faces, crowned with snow-white
hair. They have passed the grand summit of middle age, with its broad
horizons, where hope and ambition are at their zenith, and together
are journeying down the long, gentle declivity; but the clouds of loss
and bereavement and pain that gathered about their path in the years
gone by, have passed, and the valley before them is flooded with
golden light. Their home circle, once broken, is now nearly complete;
the once vacant places by the fireside are again filled, and the old
home, silent for so many years, again resounds with song and laughter,
and echoes once more to the music of childish voices and the patter of
little feet.
For hours, they sit talking together of the joys which the late years
have brought them; until the moonlight steals in through the open
windows, reverently touching their heads with a silvery radiance, at
the same time looking down in silent, shining benediction upon the
peaceful scene in the heart of the Rockies.
FINIS
End of Project Gutenberg's The Award of Justice, by A. Maynard Barbour