Conniston and Kent, riding swiftly, side by side, overtook the wagons
conveying the three hundred men to the Valley, and, passing them,
arrived at Brayley's camp before the men there had quit work for the
day. Brayley was more than half expecting them, as Kent had telephoned
to the office from Bolton to learn where Conniston was and had told
Tommy Garton of his errand.
"An' now," proclaimed Brayley, with deep satisfaction, "we'll have the
big ditch clean through Valley City an' the cross-ditches growin' real
fast before a week's up."
"I've told the drivers to stop when they get here, Brayley. Some of
the men have blankets with them. We can rush more from Mr. Crawford's
store in Crawfordsville. We can make out as to food. Have you figured
out what more horses, what further tools you'll need? That's good.
Send a man to the Half Moon right now with word to Rawhide Jones to
rush us the horses. Put your new men to work in the morning if you
have to make them dig ditch with shovels. Also send a hundred of them
into Valley City as soon as it's daylight to begin the cross-ditches.
Let Ben go with them. He can get his instructions there from me or
from Tommy Garton. How is everything going?"
Brayley reported that the work was running smoothly, that his foremen
were as good men as he ever wanted to see, that he had no fault to
find anywhere.
"An' this ol' ditch is sure growin', Con," he finished, with a sudden
gleam of pride.
Conniston did not wait for the arrival of the wagons to ride on into
Valley City. Kent he left behind him at the camp.
"I've a tremendous curiosity to see how you do this sort of thing,"
Kent confided to him, as he handed Conniston the message he wished
sent from Valley City to Clayton & Paxton, of Denver. "I think that if
Mr. Brayley has no objections and can spare me a blanket and some
bread and coffee I'll roost here and watch the ditch grow in the
morning."
Tommy Garton was still perched upon his high stool when Conniston came
to the office.
"Just through, though," he said, as he climbed down and with the aid
of his crutches piloted his new legs toward the door, grasping
Conniston's hand warmly. "Good news, eh, Greek?"
"The best, Tommy. If we don't put this thing across now we ought to be
kicked from one end of the desert to the other. By the way, I had a
visit from Swinnerton this afternoon."
He told of what had passed, and ended, thoughtfully:
"What do you suppose was his object, Tommy? Just wanted to get a peek
at what we have done?"
Garton laughed softly.
"You poor old innocent. Don't you know what the little man was after?
Didn't he make it plain that he wanted you to double cross the old
man? Didn't he make it plain that he was in a position to make it
worth your while? If our scheme fails, don't you see that you can go
to Swinnerton and demand and get a good job working for his scheme?
He has bought many a man, Greek. It is his theory that he can buy any
man he wants to buy."
"And I let him get away without slapping his little red face,"
muttered Conniston, disgustedly.
He left Garton a few minutes later, promising to return and spend the
night with him, to talk at length with him in the morning, and went
down the street to the Crawford cottage. He knew that since Argyl's
father had left for Denver Mrs. Ridley, the wife of the proprietor of
the lunch-stand, had been staying with her. It was Mrs. Ridley who
answered his knock.
"Miss Argyl ain't come back yet, Mr. Conniston," she told him. "She
went out this mornin' an' ain't showed up since. I reckon, though,
she'll be back real soon now. It's after supper-time already."
"Do you know where she went?"
"No, sir. She didn't say. Won't you come in an' wait for her?"
"No," he answered, after a moment. "I'd better not. If Miss Crawford
has been all day in the saddle she will be tired. I'll drop in in the
morning."
"Maybe that would be better," Mrs. Ridley nodded at him. "We're up
early--breakfast at five. You might run in an' eat with us?"
Conniston promised to do so, and returned to the office, more than a
little disappointed at not having seen Argyl, wondering whither her
long ride could have taken her. Until late that night he and Garton
talked, planned, and prepared for the work of to-morrow. It was barely
five the next morning when he again knocked at the cottage door. Again
Mrs. Ridley answered his knock.
"Am I too early?" Conniston smiled at her. "I noticed your smoke
going. Is Miss Crawford up yet?"
"Miss Crawford--" He saw that she hesitated, saw a nervous uneasiness
in her manner as she plucked with quick fingers at the hem of her
apron. "She ain't come in yet!"
"What!" cried Conniston, sharply. "What do you mean? Where is she?"
"I--I don't know, sir. She ain't come back yet."
"You mean that Miss Crawford left yesterday morning and that she has
not returned since that time? That she has been gone twenty-four
hours--all night?"
"Yes, sir." The old woman was eying him with eyes into which a
positive fear was creeping, her lips trembling as she spoke. "You
don't think anything has happened--"
"I don't know!" he cried, sternly. "Why didn't you let me know last
night?"
"I didn't know what to do." The tears had actually sprung into her
eyes. "I thought she must be all right. I thought mebbe she'd gone to
Crawfordsville or to the Half Moon."
Conniston left her abruptly and hastened to the office.
"Tommy," he called, from the doorway, "do you know where Miss Crawford
is? Where she went yesterday?"
"No. Why?" Garton, sensing from the other's tones that something was
wrong, swept up his crutches and hurried forward.
"She left yesterday morning," Conniston told him, as he went to the
desk and picked up the telephone. "She hasn't come back yet. Mrs.
Ridley doesn't know anything about her." And to the operator:
"Give me the Crawford house. Quick, please! Yes, in Crawfordsville."
Upon the face of each man there were lines of uneasiness. Garton
propped himself up against the desk and lighted a cigarette, his eyes
never leaving Conniston's face.
"Can't you get anybody?" he asked, after a moment.
"No. What's that, Central? They don't answer? Then get me the
bunk-house at the Half Moon. Yes, please! I'm in a hurry."
It was Lonesome Pete who answered.
"No, Con," he answered. "Miss Argyl ain't here. Anything the matter?"
Conniston clicked up the receiver and swung upon Garton.
"It is just possible," he said, slowly, "that she is in
Crawfordsville, after all. May have left the house already. I can call
up the store as soon as it opens up and ask if she has been there."
Billy Jordan had entered at the last words.
"Who are you talking about?" he asked, quickly. "Not Miss Crawford?"
"Yes." Conniston whirled upon him abruptly. "Do you know where she
went yesterday?"
"No, I don't know where she went. But as I was coming to the office I
met her, just getting on her horse in front of her house, and she gave
me a message for you."
"Well, what was it?"
"'If you see Mr. Conniston,' she said, 'tell him that I have gone to
investigate the value of the Secret.' I don't know what she meant--"
"She said that!" cried Conniston, his face going white.
"But she's all right," Billy Jordan hastened to add. "She's back now."
"You saw her?"
"No." He shook his head. "But I saw the horse she was riding. Just
noticed him tied to the back fence as I came in."
Again Conniston hurried to the cottage. Mrs. Ridley was upon the
porch.
"Miss Crawford is back?" he called to her from the street.
She shook her head.
"Not yet. Ain't you--"
He did not wait to listen. Running now, he came to the little back
yard, and to a tall bay horse, saddled and bridled, standing quietly
at the fence. At first glance he thought, as Billy Jordan had thought,
that the animal was tied there. And then he saw that the bridle-reins
were upon the ground, that they had been trampled upon and broken,
that the two stirrups were hanging upside down in the stirrup leathers
as stirrups are likely to do when a saddled horse has been running
riderless.
She had been to investigate the Secret! She had been gone all day, all
night! And now her horse had come home without her! He dared not try
to think what had happened to her; he knew that she must have
dismounted while at the spring to examine the ground; he knew that
there were sections of the desert alive with rattlesnakes.
The Great Work which had walked and slept with him for weeks, which
had never in a single waking hour been absent from his thoughts, was
forgotten as though it had never been. The Great Work was suddenly a
trifle, a nothing. It did not matter; nothing in the wide world but
one thing mattered. Failure of the Great Work was nothing if only a
slender, gray-eyed, frank-souled girl were safe. Success, unless she
were there to look into his eyes and see that he had done well, was
nothing.
Unheeding Mrs. Ridley's shrill cries, he swung about and ran back to
the office.
"Tommy," he cried, hoarsely, "her horse is back--without her! She rode
away into the desert yesterday morning. She is out there yet. Billy,
my horse is in the shed. Don't stop to saddle, but ride like the very
devil out to Brayley's camp. Tell him what has happened. Tell him to
rush fifty men on horseback to me. Tell him to see that each man takes
two canteens full of water. And, for Heaven's sake, Billy, hurry!"