_An Insistent Question_
Had Firmstone been given to the habit of self-congratulation he would
have found ample opportunity for approbation in the excellent manner
with which his plan for the rescue of Elise was working out. The
companionship of Elise and Miss Hartwell had become almost constant in
spite of the unpropitious denouement of their first meeting. This
pleased Firmstone greatly. But there was another thing which this
companionship thrust upon him with renewed interest. At first it had not
been prominent. In fact, it was quite overshadowed while Miss Hartwell's
unconscious part in his plan was in doubt. Now that the doubt was
removed, his personal feelings toward Elise came to the front. He was
neither conceited nor a philanthropist with more enthusiasm than sense.
He did not attempt to conceal from himself that philanthropy, incarnated
in youth, culture, and a recognised position, directed toward a young
and beautiful girl was in danger of forming entangling alliances, and
that these alliances could be more easily prevented than obviated when
once formed.
Firmstone was again riding down from the mine. He expected to find Elise
and Miss Hartwell at the Falls, as he had many times of late. He placed
the facts squarely before himself. He was hearing of no one so much as
of Elise. Whether this was due to an awakening consciousness on his part
or whether his interest in Elise had attracted the attention of others
he could not decide. Certain it was that Miss Hartwell was continually
singing her praise. Jim, who was rapidly recovering from his wounds and
from his general shaking up at the wreck of the stage, let pass no
opportunity wherein he might express his opinion.
"Hell!" he remarked. "I couldn't do that girl dirt by up and going dead
after all her trouble. Ain't she just fed me and flowered me and coddled
me general? Gawd A'mighty! I feel like a delicatessen shop 'n a flower
garden all mixed up with angels."
Bennie was equally enthusiastic, but his shadowing gourd had a devouring
worm. His commendation of Elise only aroused a resentful consciousness
of the Blue Goose.
"It's the way of the world," he was wont to remark, "but it's a damned
shame to make a good dog and then worry him with fleas."
There was also Dago Joe, who ran the tram at the mill. Joe had a goodly
flock of graduated dagoes in assorted sizes, but his love embraced them
all. That the number was undiminished by disease he credited to Elise,
and the company surgeon vouched for the truth of his assertions. Only
Zephyr was persistently silent. This, however, increased Firmstone's
perplexity, if it did not confirm his suspicions that his interest in
Elise had attracted marked attention. There was only one way in which
his proposed plan of rescue could be carried out that would not
eventually do the girl more harm than good, especially if she was
compelled to remain in Pandora. Here was his problem--one which demanded
immediate solution. He was at the Falls, unconsciously preparing to
dismount, when he saw that neither Elise nor Miss Hartwell was there. He
looked around a moment; then, convinced that they were absent, he rode
on down the trail.
As he entered the town he noted a group of boys grotesquely attired in
miner's clothes. Leading the group was Joe's oldest son, a boy of about
twelve years. A miner's hat, many sizes too large, was on his head,
almost hiding his face. A miner's jacket, reaching nearly to his feet,
completed his costume. In his hand he was swinging a lighted candle. The
other boys were similarly attired, and each had candles as well.
Firmstone smiled. The boys were playing miner, and were "going on
shift." He was startled into more active consciousness by shrill screams
of agony. The boys had broken from their ranks and were flying in every
direction. Young Joe, staggering behind them, was almost hidden by a jet
of flame that seemed to spring from one of the pockets of his coat. The
boy was just opposite the Blue Goose. Before Firmstone could spur his
horse to the screaming child Elise darted down the steps, seized the boy
with one hand, with the other tore the flames from his coat and threw
them far out on the trail. Firmstone knew what had happened. The miner
had left some sticks of powder in his coat and these had caught fire
from the lighted candle. The flames from the burning powder had scorched
the boy's hand, licked across his face, and the coat itself had begun to
burn, when Elise reached him. She was stripping the coat from the
screaming boy as Firmstone sprang from his horse. He took the boy in his
arms and carried him up the steps of the Blue Goose. Elise, running up
the steps before him, reappeared with oil and bandages, as he laid the
boy on one of the tables. Pierre and Morrison came into the bar-room as
Firmstone and Elise began to dress the burns. Morrison laid his hand
roughly on Firmstone's arm.
"You get back to your own. This is our crowd."
"Git hout! You bin kip-still." Pierre in turn thrust Morrison aside.
"You bin got hall you want, Meestaire Firmstone?"
"Take my horse and go for the doctor."
Pierre hastily left the room. The clatter of hoofs showed that
Firmstone's order had been obeyed. Elise and Firmstone worked busily at
the little sufferer. Oil and laudanum had deadened the pain, and the boy
was now sobbing hysterically; Morrison standing by, glaring in helpless
rage.
Another clatter of hoofs outside, and Pierre and the company surgeon
hurried into the room. The boy's moans were stilled and he lay staring
questioningly with large eyes at the surgeon.
"You haven't left me anything to do." The surgeon turned approvingly to
Elise.
"Mr. Firmstone did that."
The surgeon laughed.
"That's Elise every time. She's always laying the blame on someone else.
Never got her to own up to anything of this kind in my life."
Joe senior and his wife came breathless into the room. Mrs. Joe threw
herself on the boy with all the abandon of the genuine Latin. Joe looked
at Elise, then dragged his wife aside.
"The boy's all right now, Joe. You can take him home. I'll be in to see
him later." The surgeon turned to leave the room.
Joe never stirred; only looked at Elise.
"It's all right, Joe."
The surgeon shrugged his shoulders in mock despair.
"There it is again. I'm getting to be of no account."
Something in Elise's face caused him to look again. Then he was at her
side. Taking her arm, he glanced at the hand she was trying to hide.
"It doesn't amount to anything." Elise was trying to free her arm.
From the palm up the hand was red and blistered.
"Now I'll show my authority. How did it happen?"
"The powder was burning. I was afraid it might explode."
"What if it had exploded?"
Firmstone asked the question of Elise. She made no reply. He hardly
expected she would. Nevertheless he did not dismiss the question from
his mind. As he rode away with the company surgeon, he asked it over and
over again. Then he made answer to himself.