from it, saw that it was of irregular shape, and oddly indented, as
though some underground giant had chewed it with Titanic teeth before
spewing it up for man's good or ill, as fate might decree. A slight,
bluish hue with which it first met the eye melted softly into that
indefinable lustre that proclaims gold and only gold--the lust for which
is more potent than the love of woman, wine; in whose quest more lives
have been sacrificed than for any other cause since the world began; for
whose possession souls innumerable are being bartered every day.
"A sixty-dollar nugget," Durant appraised it, weighing it in his expert
hand, "and valuable merely as an earnest of what lies beneath--just a
chip of the old block; a clue to the great Lode! Now, to take possession
formally!" He paced the ground, whittled and marked the stakes, and was
preparing to post them, when a sudden thought arrested him. "But--the
land now lies within the township limits!" he groaned. "Oh, my girl,
what, if, after all, my luck should fail you!"
Evelyn smiled happily. "I think I can come to your assistance in that
matter. If you will call to-morrow morning at the office of E. Durant
you can acquire the mineral rights from the present owner of the lot,
who happens to be--myself. Then you can record it as soon as the
Commissioner's books are open."
"But----" Durant looked about with a touch of the furtive apprehension
that had shadowed his recent life, and that never wholly left him.
"Suppose some one has seen--how can I defend it?"
"Oh," cried Evelyn, "no fear about that! There are no claim-jumpers in
this camp, thanks to Scarlett of the Mounted."
"Aye, Scarlett. A fine fellow that. He did me a great kindness last
year," said her father. "It began by his finding your picture, which I
had dropped, and giving it back to me. If my foresight had been equal to
my hindsight, I should have confided my discovery to him as soon as I
made it, and so saved you this year of bitter experience, my girl."
"Well, daddy," replied Evelyn, "if you haven't suffered too much by it,
not only do I not regret it, but I'm glad. It has taught me to value the
gifts of the mother Lode infinitely less, and infinitely more, than
formerly. I can hardly wait overnight to claim my pot of gold from the
rainbow's foot--but I'm humbler about the possession of wealth than I
used to be. And I want the whole camp to be 'in it.'"
"And so they shall, my girl," responded Durant, heartily. Then, as two
figures came in sight, "There goes the Sergeant now, with Mr. Maclane,
passing by the gate. Suppose we begin with them, Evie. Suppose we call
them in and tell them all about it." He already was summoning them.
"Suppose, for the present, you take charge of Mr. Maclane," amended
Evelyn, as the two drew near, "and leave the Sergeant to me."
Scarlett and the minister were bent on some errand in another quarter of
the town, but by tacit consent had taken the road past Evelyn's cabin,
actuated, in the case of the older man, by a kind wish not to lose sight
of her for long, and in the case of the lover by the force that guides
all steps toward the beloved. For, dismissed as he had been, and
dejected as he found himself accordingly, yet in his heart of hearts
there still lurked a hope that she might relent toward him. When,
therefore, they saw Evelyn, radiant, and beckoning to them from the
veranda, they joined her and her father with alacrity. Nor did good
Maclane need any suggestion from Durant that the two young people should
be left to make their peace unaided.
"Sergeant Scarlett," Evelyn began when the older men had withdrawn to
examine Durant's discovery, "I want to beg your pardon for the way I
treated you this afternoon! I felt bitter, cheated--oh, it wasn't your
fault one bit; it was my own, which was why I was so angry with you. And
you--all along you have behaved so generously to me--nobly!--Yes, let me
finish," she cried, retreating from the advance with which he sought to
interrupt her. "I shall always think it--but I may not ever be in the
mood to tell you again quite how well I think of you."
"But, Evelyn, dearest, what's the good of compliments to a hungry man?"
cried Scarlett. "I'm asking ye for bread--and ye give me the
blarney-stone."
Evelyn laughed, and, sitting, patted the place beside her, invitingly.
"I'll tell you the whole story. It's like a romance--I was going to
write you a letter about it if you had not come."
"We'll write it together. We'll write it all our lives." Her lover
slipped an arm about her. "But we'll start with the postscript."