Chapter IV: Part 4

"Mr. Underwood," said Darrell, slowly, "if this were a question of accommodation to yourself, of coming into your office and helping you out personally, I would gladly do it; salary would be no object; but to take a merely clerical position for an indefinite time when I have a good, lucrative profession does not seem to me a very wise policy. There must be plenty of assaying to be done in Ophir; why couldn't I temporarily open an office there?"

"I guess there's no reason why you couldn't if you want to," Mr. Underwood replied, evidently disappointed by Darrell's reply and eying him sharply, "and if you want to open up an office of your own there's plenty of room for you in our building. You know the building was formerly occupied by one of Ophir's wildcat banks that collapsed in the general crash six years ago, and there's a fine lot of private offices in the rear, opening on the side street; one of those rooms fitted up would be just the place for you."

"Much obliged," said Darrell, smiling; "we'll see about it if the time comes that I need it. Possibly your prospective partner will have use for all the private offices."

"I guess I'll have some say about that," Mr. Underwood returned, gruffly; then, after a short pause, he continued: "I haven't fully decided about this partnership business. I talked it over with Jack when he was here, but he didn't seem to favor the idea; told me that at my age I had better let well enough alone. I told him that I didn't see what my age had to do with it, that I was capable of looking after my own interests, partner or no partner, but that I'd no objection to having some one else take the brunt of the work while I looked on."

"Is the man a stranger or an acquaintance?" Darrell inquired.

"I'm not personally acquainted with him, but he's not exactly a stranger, for he's lived in Ophir, off and on, for the last five years. His name is Walcott. He says his father is an Englishman and very wealthy; he himself, I should judge, has some Spanish blood in his veins. He spends part of his time in Texas, where he has heavy cattle interests; in fact, has been there for the greater part of the past year. He wants to go into the mortgage-loan business, and offers to put in seventy-five thousand and give his personal attention to the business for thirty-three and a third per cent. of the profits."

"What has been his business in Ophir all these years?"

"Life insurance mostly, I believe; had two offices, one in Ophir and one at Galena, and has also done some private loan business."

"What sort of a reputation has he?"

"First-rate. I've made a number of inquiries about him in both places, and nobody has a word to say against him; very quiet, minds his own business, a man of few words; just about my sort of a man, I should judge," Mr. Underwood concluded as he rose from his chair.

"Well, Mr. Underwood," said Darrell, "whatever arrangements you decide to make, I wish you success."

"No more than I do you, my boy, in anything your pig-headedness leads you into," Mr. Underwood replied, brusquely, but with a humorous twinkle in his eyes. "Confound you!" he added; "I'd help you if you'd give me a chance, but maybe it's best to let you 'gang your ain gait.'" And he walked out of the room before Darrell could reply.

A moment later he looked in at the door. "By the way, if you're not at The Pines by five o'clock sharp next Saturday afternoon, Marcia says she's going to send an officer up here after you with a writ of habeas corpus, or something of the sort."

"All right; I'll be there," Darrell laughed.

"You'll find the old place a bit brighter than you've seen it yet, for we had a letter from Puss this morning that she'll be home to-morrow."

With the last words the door closed and Darrell was left alone with his thoughts, to which, however, he could then give little time. But when the day's work was done he went for a stroll, and, seating himself upon a large rock, carefully reviewed the situation.

Hitherto he had given little thought to the impending trouble at the camp, supposing it would affect himself but slightly; but he now realized that a suspension of operations there would mean an entire change in his mode of living. The prospective change weighed on his sensitive spirits like an incubus. Even The Pines, he dismally reflected, would no longer seem the same quiet, homelike retreat, since it was to be invaded and dominated by a youthful presence between whom and himself there would probably be little congeniality.

But finally telling himself that these reflections were childish, he rose as the last sunset rays were sinking behind the western ranges and the rosy flush on the summits was fading, and, walking swiftly to his room, resolutely buried himself in his studies.

_Chapter XII_

NEW LIFE IN THE OLD HOME

On the following Saturday, as Darrell ascended the long driveway leading to The Pines, he was startled at the transformation which the place had undergone since last he was there. The rolling lawn seemed carpeted with green velvet, enlivened here and there with groups of beautiful foliage plants. Fountains were playing in the sunlight, their glistening spray tinted with rainbow lights. Flowers bloomed in profusion, their colors set off by the gray background of the stone walls of the house. The syringas by the bay-windows were bent to the ground with their burden of snowy blossoms, whose fragrance, mingled with that of the June roses, greeted him as he approached. He forgot his three weeks' absence and the rapid growth in that high altitude; the change seemed simply magical. Then, as he caught a glimpse through the pines of a slender, girlish figure, dressed in white, darting hither and thither, he wondered no longer; it was but the fit accompaniment of the young, joyous life which had come to the old place.

As he came out into the open, he saw a young girl romping up and down before the house with a fine Scotch collie, and he could not restrain a smile as he recalled Mrs. Dean's oft-repeated declaration that there was one thing she would never tolerate, and that was a dog or a cat about the house. She had not yet seen him; but when she did, the frolic ceased and she started towards the house. Then suddenly she stopped, as though she recognized some one or something, and stood awaiting his approach, her lips parted in a smile, two small, shapely hands shading her eyes from the sun. As he came nearer, he had time to note the lithe, supple figure, just rounding into the graceful outlines of womanhood; the full, smiling lips, the flushed cheeks, and the glint of gold in her brown hair; and the light, the beauty, the fragrance surrounding her seemed an appropriate setting to the picture. She was a part of the scene.

Darrell, of course, had no knowledge of his own age, but at that moment he felt very remote from the embodiment of youth before him; he seemed to himself to have been suddenly relegated to the background, among the elder members of the family.

The collie had been standing beside his mistress with his head on one side, regarding Darrell with a sharp, inquisitive look, and he now broke the silence, which threatened to prove rather embarrassing, with a short bark.

"Hush, Duke!" said the girl, in a low tone; then, as Darrell dismounted, she came swiftly towards him, extending her hand.

"This is Mr. Darrell, I know," she said, speaking quite rapidly in a clear, musical voice, without a shade of affectation, "and you probably know who I am, so we will need no introduction."

"Yes, Miss Underwood," said Darrell, smiling into the beautiful brown eyes, "I would have recognized you anywhere from your picture."

"And you have Trix, haven't you?" she exclaimed, turning to caress the mare. "Dear old Trix! Just let her go, Mr. Darrell; she will go to the stables of her own accord and Bennett will take care of her; that was the way Harry taught her. Go find Bennett, Trix!"

They watched Trix follow the driveway and disappear around the corner, then both turned towards the house.

"Auntie is out just now," said the girl; "she had to go down town, but I am expecting her back every minute. Will you go into the house, Mr. Darrell, or do you prefer a seat on the veranda?"

"The veranda looks inviting; suppose we sit here," Darrell suggested.

They had reached the steps leading to the entrance. On the top step the collie had seated himself and was now awaiting their approach with the air of one expecting due recognition.

"Mr. Darrell," said the young girl, with a merry little laugh, "allow me to present you to His Highness, the Duke of Argyle!"

The collie gave his head a slight backward toss, and, with great dignity, extended his right paw to Darrell, which the latter, instantly entering into the spirit of the joke, took, saying, with much gravity,--

"I am pleased to meet His Highness!"

The girl's brown eyes danced with enjoyment.

"You have made a friend of him for life, now," she said as they seated themselves, Duke stationing himself at her side in such a manner as to show his snow-white vest and great double ruff to the best possible advantage. "He is a very aristocratic dog, and if any one fails to show him what he considers proper respect, he is greatly affronted."

"He certainly is a royal-looking fellow," said Darrell, "but I cannot imagine how you ever gained Mrs. Dean's consent to his presence here. You must possess even more than the ordinary powers of feminine persuasion."

"Aunt Marcia?" laughed the girl; "oh, well, you see it was a case of 'love me, love my dog.' Wherever I go, Duke must go, so auntie had to submit to the inevitable."

Darrell found the situation far less embarrassing than he had expected. His young companion, with keen, womanly intuition, had divined something of his feeling, and tactfully avoiding any allusion to their previous meeting, of which he had no recollection, kept the conversation on subjects within the brief span of his memory. She seemed altogether unconscious of the peculiar conditions surrounding himself, and the brown eyes, meeting his own so frankly, had in their depths nothing of the curiosity or the pity he had so often encountered, and had grown to dread. She appeared so childlike and unaffected, and her joyous, rippling laughter proved so contagious, that unconsciously the extra years which a few moments before seemed to have been added to his life dropped away; the grave, tense lines of his face relaxed, and before he was aware he was laughing heartily at the account of some school-girl escapade or at some tricks performed by Duke for his especial entertainment.

In the midst of their merriment they heard the sound of hoof-beats, and, turning, saw the family carriage approaching, containing both Mr. Underwood and his sister.

"You two children seem to be enjoying yourselves!" was Mr. Underwood's comment as the carriage stopped.

Darrell sprang to Mrs. Dean's assistance as she alighted, while Kate Underwood ran down the steps to meet her father. Both greeted Darrell warmly, but Mrs. Dean retained his hand a moment as she looked at him with genuine motherly interest.

"I'm glad the truant has returned," she said, with her quiet smile; "I only hope it seems as good to you to come home as it does to us to have you here!"

Darrell was touched by her unusual kindness. "You can rest assured that it does, mother," he said, earnestly. He was astonished at the effect of his words: her face flushed, her lips trembled, and as she passed on into the house her eyes glistened with tears.

Darrell looked about him in bewilderment. "What have I said?" he questioned; "how did I wound her feelings?"

"She lost a son years ago, and she's never got over it," Mr. Underwood explained, briefly.

"You did not hurt her feelings--she was pleased," Kate hastened to reassure him; "but did she never speak to you about it?"

"Never," Darrell replied.

"Well, that is not to be wondered at, for she seldom alludes to it. He died years ago, before I can remember, but she always grieves for him; that was the reason," she added, reflectively, half to herself, "that she always loved Harry better than she did me."

"Better than you, you jealous little Puss!" said her father, pinching her cheek; "don't you have love enough, I'd like to know?"

"I can never have too much, you know, papa," she answered, very seriously, and Darrell, watching, saw in the brown eyes for the first time the wistful look he had seen in the two portraits.

She soon followed her aunt, but her father and Darrell remained outside talking of business matters until summoned to dinner. On entering the house Darrell saw on every hand evidences of the young life in the old home. There was just a pleasant touch of disorder in the rooms he had always seen kept with such precision: here a bit of unfinished embroidery; there a book open, face down, just where the fair reader had left it; the piano was open and sheets of music lay scattered over it. From every side came the fragrance of flowers, and in the usually sombre dining-room Darrell noted the fireplace nearly concealed by palms and potted plants, the chandelier trimmed with trailing vines, the epergne of roses and ferns on the table, and the tiny boutonnieres at his plate and Mr. Underwood's. With a smile of thanks at the happy young face opposite, he appropriated the one intended for himself, but Mr. Underwood, picking up the one beside his plate, sat twirling it in his fingers with a look of mock perplexity.

"Puss has introduced so many of her folderols I haven't got used to them yet," he said. "How is this to be taken,--before eating, or after?" he inquired, looking at her from under heavy, frowning brows.

"To be taken! Oh, papa!" she ejaculated; "why don't you put it on as Mr. Darrell has his? Here, I'll fix it for you!"

With an air of resignation he waited while she fastened the flowers in the lapel of his coat, giving the latter an approving little pat as she finished.

"There!" she exclaimed; "you ought to see how nice you look!"

"H'm! I'm glad to hear it," he grunted; "I feel like a prize steer at a county fair!"

In the laughter which followed Kate joined as merrily as the rest, and no one but Darrell observed the deepening flush on her cheek or heard the tremulous sigh when the laughter was ended.

After dinner they adjourned to the large sitting-room, Mr. Underwood with his pipe, Mrs. Dean with her knitting, and Darrell, while conversing with the former, watched with a new interest the latter's placid face, wondering at the depth of feeling concealed beneath that calm exterior.

As the twilight deepened and conversation began to flag, there came from the piano a few sweet chords, followed by one of Chopin's dreamy nocturnes. Mr. Underwood began to doze in his chair, and Darrell sat silent, his eyes closed, his whole soul given up to the spell of the music. Unconscious of the pleasure she was giving, Kate played till the room was veiled in darkness; then going to the fireplace she lighted the fire already laid--for the nights were still somewhat chilly--and sat down on a low seat before the fire, while Duke came and lay at her feet. It was a pretty picture; the young girl in white, her eyes fixed dreamily on the glowing embers, the firelight dancing over her form and face and lighting up her hair with gleams of gold; the dog at her feet, his head thrown proudly back, and his eyes fastened on her face with a look of loyal devotion seldom seen even in human eyes.

Happening to glance in Mr. Underwood's direction Darrell saw pride, pleasure, and pain struggling for the mastery in the father's face as he watched the picture in the firelight. Pain won, and with a sudden gesture of impatience he covered his eyes with his hand, as though to shut out the scene. It was but a little thing, but taken in connection with the incident before dinner, it appealed to Darrell, showing, as it did, the silent, stoical manner in which these people bore their grief.

Mrs. Dean's quiet voice interrupted his musings and broke the spell which the music seemed to have thrown around them.

"You will have some one now, Katherine, to accompany you on the violin, as you have always wanted; Mr. Darrell is a fine violinist."

Kate was instantly all animation. "Oh, that will be delightful, Mr. Darrell!" she exclaimed, eagerly; "there is nothing I enjoy so much as a violin accompaniment; it adds so much expression to the music. I think a piano alone is so unsympathetic; you can't get any feeling out of it!"

"I'm afraid, Miss Underwood, I will prove a disappointment to you," Darrell replied; "I have never yet attempted any new music, or even to play by note, and don't know what success I would have, if any. So far I have only played what drifts to me--some way, I don't know how--from out of the past."

The unconscious sadness in his voice stirred the depths of Kate's tender heart. "Oh, that is too bad!" she exclaimed, quickly, thinking, not of her own disappointment, but of his trouble of which she had unwittingly reminded him; then she added, gently, almost timidly,--

"But you will, at any rate, let me hear you play, won't you?"

"Certainly, if it will give you any pleasure," he replied, with a slight smile.

"Very well; then we will arrange it this way," she continued, her cheerful manner restored; "you will play your music, and, if I am familiar with it, I will accompany you on the piano. I will get out Harry's violin to-morrow, and while auntie is taking her nap and papa is engaged, we will see what we can accomplish in a musical way."

Before Darrell could reply, Mr. Underwood, who had started from his revery, demanded,--

"What engagement are you talking about, you chatterbox?"

"I can't say, papa," she replied, playfully seating herself on the arm of his chair; "I only know that when I asked your company for a walk to-morrow afternoon, you pleaded a very important engagement. Now, how is that?" she asked archly; "have you an engagement, really, or didn't you care for my society?"

"Why, yes, to be sure; it had escaped my mind for the moment," her father answered, rather vaguely she thought; then, looking at Darrell, he said,--

"Walcott is coming to-morrow for my final decision in that matter."

Darrell bowed in token that he understood, but did not feel at liberty to inquire whether the decision was to be favorable to Mr. Walcott, or otherwise. Kate glanced quickly from one to the other, but before she could speak her father continued:

"I rather think if he consents to two or three conditions which I shall insist upon, that my answer will be in the affirmative."

"I thought that quite probable from your conversation the other day," Darrell replied.

"See here, papa!" Kate exclaimed, mischievously, "you needn't talk over my head! You used to do so when I was little, but you can't any longer, you know. Who is this 'Walcott,' and what is this important decision about?"

Mr. Underwood, who did not believe in taking what he called the "women folks" into his confidence regarding business affairs, looked quizzically into the laughing face beside him.

"Didn't I hear you arranging some sort of a musical programme with Mr. Darrell?" he inquired.

"Yes; what has that to do with your engagement?" she queried.

"Nothing whatever; only you carry out your engagement and I will mine, and we'll compare notes afterwards."

For an instant her face sobered; then catching sight of her father's eyes twinkling under their beetling brows, she laughingly withdrew from his side, saying,--

"That's all very well; you can score one this time, papa, but don't you think we won't come out pretty near even in the end!"

Upon learning from Darrell that the violin she expected him to use was in his room at the mining camp, she then proposed a stroll to the summit of the pine-clad mountain for the following afternoon, and having secured his promise that he would bring the violin with him on his next visit, she waltzed gayly across the floor, turned on the light, and seating herself at the piano soon had the room ringing with music and laughter while she sang a number of college songs.

To Darrell she seemed more child than woman, and he was constantly impressed with her unlikeness to her father or aunt. She seemed to have absolutely none of their self-repression. Warm-hearted, sympathetic, and demonstrative, every shade of feeling betrayed itself in her sensitive, mobile face and in the brown eyes, one moment pensive and wistful, the next luminous with sympathy or dancing with merriment.

As Darrell took leave of Mrs. Dean that night, he said, looking frankly into her calm, kindly face,--

"I am very sorry if I wounded your feelings this afternoon; it was wholly unintentional, I assure you."

"You did not in the least," she answered; "it is so long since I have been called by that name it took me by surprise, but it sounded very pleasant to me. My boy, if he had lived, would have been just about your age."

"It seemed pleasant to me to call you 'mother,'" said Darrell; "it made me feel less like an outsider."

"You can call me so as often as you wish; you are no outsider here; we consider you one of ourselves," she responded, with more warmth in her tones than he had ever heard before.

The following morning Darrell accompanied the ladies to church. After lunch he lounged for an hour or more in one of the hammocks on the veranda, listening alternately to Mr. Underwood's comments as he leisurely smoked his pipe, and to the faint tones of a mandolin coming from some remote part of the house. Mr. Underwood grew more and more abstracted, the mandolin ceased, and Darrell, soothed by his surroundings to a temporary forgetfulness of his troubles, swung gently back and forth in a sort of dreamy content. After a while, Kate Underwood appeared, dressed for a walk, and, accompanied by Duke, the two set forth for their mountain ramble, for the time as light-hearted as two children.

Upon their return, two or three hours later, while still at a little distance from the house, they saw Mr. Underwood and a stranger standing together on the veranda. The latter, who was apparently about to take his departure, and whom Darrell at once assumed to be Mr. Walcott, was about thirty years of age, of medium height, with a finely proportioned and rather muscular form, erect and dignified in his bearing, with a lithe suppleness and grace in all his movements. He was standing with his hat in his hand, and Darrell, who had time to observe him closely, noting his jet-black hair, close cut excepting where it curled slightly over his forehead, his black, silky moustache, and the oval contour of his olive face, remembered Mr. Underwood's remark of the probability of Spanish blood in his veins.

As they came near, Duke gave a low growl, but Kate instantly hushed him, chiding him for his rudeness. At the sound, the stranger turned towards them, and Mr. Underwood at once introduced Mr. Walcott to his daughter and Mr. Darrell. He greeted them both with the most punctilious courtesy, but as he faced Darrell, the latter saw for an instant in the half-closed, blue-black eyes, the pity tinged with contempt to which he had long since become accustomed, yet which, as often as he met it, thrilled him anew with pain. The look passed, however, and Mr. Walcott, in low, well-modulated tones, conversed pleasantly for a few moments with the new-comers, the three young people forming a striking trio as they stood there in the bright sunshine amid the June roses; then, with a graceful adieu, he walked swiftly away.

As soon as he was out of hearing Mr. Underwood, turning to Darrell, said,--

"It is decided; the papers will be drawn to-morrow."

Then taking his daughter's flushed, perplexed face between his hands, he said,--

"Mr. Walcott and I are going into partnership; how do you like the looks of my partner, Puss?"

She looked incredulous. "That young man your partner!" she exclaimed; "why, he seems the very last man I should ever expect you to fancy!" Then she added, laughing,--

"Oh, papa, I think he must have hypnotized you! Does Aunt Marcia know? May I tell her?" And, having gained his consent, she ran into the house to impart the news to Mrs. Dean.

"That's the woman of it!" said Mr. Underwood, grimly; "they always want to immediately tell some other woman! But what do you think of my partner?" he asked, looking searchingly at Darrell, who had not yet spoken.

Darrell did not reply at once; he felt in some way bewildered. All the content, the joy, the sunshine of the last few hours seemed to have been suddenly blotted out, though he could not have told why. The remembrance of that glance still stung him, but aside from that, he felt his whole soul filled with an inexplicable antagonism towards this man.

"I hardly know yet just what I do think of him," he answered, slowly; "I have not formed a definite opinion of him, but I think, as your daughter says, he somehow seems the last man whom I would have expected you to associate yourself with."

Mr. Underwood frowned. "I don't generally make mistakes in people," he said, rather gruffly; "if I'm mistaken in this man, it will be the first time."

Nothing further was said on the subject, though it remained uppermost in the minds of both, with the result that their conversation was rather spasmodic and desultory. At the dinner-table, Kate was quick to observe the unusual silence, and, intuitively connecting it in some way with the new partnership, refrained alike from question or comment regarding either that subject or Mr. Walcott, while it was a rule with Mrs. Dean never to refer to her brother's business affairs unless he first alluded to them himself.

The evening passed more pleasantly, as Kate coaxed her father into telling some reminiscences of his early western life, which greatly interested Darrell. Something of the old restlessness had returned to him, however. He spent a wakeful night, and was glad when morning came and he could return to his work.

As he came out of the house at an early hour to set forth on his long ride he found Kate engaged in feeding Trix with lumps of sugar. She greeted him merrily, and as he started down the avenue he was followed by a rippling laugh and a shower of roses, one of which he caught and fastened in his buttonhole, but on looking back over his shoulder she had vanished, and only Duke was visible.

_Chapter XIII_

MR. UNDERWOOD "STRIKES" FIRST

The ensuing days were filled with work demanding close attention and concentration of thought, but often in the long, cool twilight, while Darrell rested from his day's work before entering upon the night's study, he recalled his visit to The Pines with a degree of pleasure hitherto unknown. He had found Kate Underwood far different from his anticipations, though just what his anticipations had been he did not stop to define. There was at times a womanly grace and dignity in her bearing which he would have expected from her portrait and which he admired, but what especially attracted him was her utter lack of affectation or self-consciousness. She was as unconscious as a child; her sympathy towards himself and her pleasant familiarity with him were those of a warm-hearted, winsome child.

He liked best to recall her as she looked that evening seated by the fireside: the childish pose, the graceful outlines of her form silhouetted against the light; the dreamy eyes, with their long golden lashes curling upward; the lips parted in a half smile, and the gleam of the firelight on her hair. But it was always as a child that he recalled her, and the thought that to himself, or to any other, she could be aught else never occurred to him. Of young Whitcomb's love for her, of course, he had no recollection, nor had it ever been mentioned in his hearing since his illness.

Day by day the work at the camp increased, and there also began to be indications of an approaching outbreak among the men. The union boarding-house was nearing completion; it was rumored that it would be ready for occupancy within a week or ten days; the walking delegates from the union could be frequently seen loitering about the camp, especially when the changes in shifts were made, waiting to get word with the men, and it was nothing uncommon to see occasional groups of the men engaged in argument, which suddenly broke off at the appearance of Darrell, or of Hathaway, the superintendent.

So engrossed was Mr. Underwood with the arrangement of details for the inauguration of the new firm of Underwood & Walcott that he was unable to be at the camp that week. On Saturday afternoon Darrell, having learned that Hathaway was to be gone over Sunday, and believing it best under existing circumstances not to leave the camp, sent Mr. Underwood a message to that effect, and also informing him of the status of affairs there.

Early the following week Mr. Underwood made his appearance at the camp, and if the union bosses had entertained any hope of effecting a compromise with the owner of Camp Bird, as it was known, such hope must have been blasted upon mere sight of that gentleman's face upon his arrival. Darrell himself could scarcely restrain a smile of amusement as they met. Mr. Underwood fairly bristled with defiance, and, after the briefest kind of a greeting, started to make his usual rounds of the camp. He stopped abruptly, fumbled in his pocket for an instant, then, handing a dainty envelope to Darrell, hastened on without a word. Darrell saw smiles exchanged among the men, but he preserved the utmost gravity until, having reached his desk, he opened and read the little note. It contained merely a few pleasant lines from Kate, expressing disappointment at his failure to come to The Pines on the preceding Saturday, and reminding him of his promise concerning the violin; but the postscript, which in true feminine style comprised the real gist of the note, made him smile audibly. It ran:

"Papa has donned his paint and feathers this morning and is
evidently starting out on the war-path. I haven't an idea whose
scalps he intends taking, but hope you will at least preserve your
own intact."

At dinner Mr. Underwood maintained an ominous silence, replying in monosyllables to any question or remark addressed to him. He soon left the table, and Darrell did not see him again till late in the afternoon, when he entered the laboratory. A glance at the set lines of his face told Darrell as plainly as words that his line of action was fully determined upon, and that it would be as fixed and unalterable as the laws of the Medes and Persians.

"I am going home now," he announced briefly, in reply to Darrell's somewhat questioning look; "I'll be back here the last of the week."

"What do you think of the outlook, Mr. Underwood?" Darrell inquired.

"It is about what I expected. I have seen all the men. They are, as I supposed, under the thumb of the union bosses. A few of them realize that the whole proposition is unreasonable and absurd, and they don't want to go out, but they don't dare say so above their breath, and they don't dare disobey orders, because they are owned, body and soul, by the union."

"Have any of the leaders tried to make terms?"

"I met one of their 'walking delegates' this morning," said Mr. Underwood, with scornful emphasis; "I told him to 'walk' himself out of the camp or I'd boot him out; and he walked!"

Darrell laughed. Mr. Underwood continued: "The boarding-house opens on Thursday; on next Monday every man not enrolled in that institution will be ordered out."

"It's to be a strike then, sure thing, is it?" Darrell asked.

"Yes, there'll be a strike," Mr. Underwood answered, grimly, while a quick gleam shot across his face; "but remember one thing," he added, as he turned to leave the room, "no man ever yet got the drop or the first blow on me!"

Matters continued about the same at the camp. On Friday favorable reports concerning the new boarding-house began to be circulated, brought the preceding evening by miners from another camp. Some of the men looked sullen and defiant, others only painfully self-conscious, in the presence of Darrell and the superintendent, but it was evident that the crisis was approaching.

Late Friday night a horseman dismounted silently before the door of the office building and Mr. Underwood walked quietly into Darrell's room.

"How's the new hotel? Overrun with boarders?" he asked, as he seated himself, paying little attention to Darrell's exclamation of surprise.

"Chapman's men--about fifty in all--are the only ones there at present."

"Chapman!" ejaculated Mr. Underwood; "what is Chapman doing? He agreed to stand in with the rest of us on this thing!"

"He told Hathaway this morning he was only doing it for experiment. The boarding-house is located near his claims, you know, and he has comparatively few men. So he said he didn't mind trying it for a month or so."

"Confound him! I'll make it the dearest experiment ever he tried," said Mr. Underwood, wrathfully; "he was in our office the other day trying to negotiate a loan for twenty-five thousand dollars that he said he had got to have within ten days or go to the wall. I'll see that he doesn't get it anywhere about here unless he stands by his word with us."

After further conversation Mr. Underwood went out, saying he had a little business about the camp to attend to. He returned in the course of an hour, and Darrell heard him holding a long consultation with Hathaway before he retired for the night.

The following morning the mill men of the camp, on going to their work, were astonished to find the mill closed and silent, while fastened on the great doors was a large placard which read as follows:

NOTICE.

The entire mining and milling plant of Camp Bird is closed down for
an indefinite period. All employees are requested to call at the
superintendent's office and receive their wages up to and including
Saturday, the 10th inst.
D. K. UNDERWOOD.

The miners found the hoist-house and the various shaft-houses closed and deserted, with notices similar to the above posted on their doors.

Darrell, upon going to breakfast, learned that Mr. Underwood and the superintendent had breakfasted at an early hour. A little later, on his way to the mill, he observed groups of men here and there, some standing, some moving in the direction of the office, but gave the matter no particular thought until he reached the mill and was himself confronted by the placard. As he read the notice and recalled the groups of idlers, certain remarks made by Mr. Underwood came to his mind, and he seemed struck by the humorous side of the situation.

"The old gentleman seems to have got the 'drop' on them, all right!" he said to himself, as, with an amused smile, he walked past the mill and out in the direction of the hoist. The ore-bins were closed and locked, the tram-cars stood empty on their tracks, the hoisting engine was still, the hoist-house and shaft-houses deserted. After the ceaseless noise and activity to which he had become accustomed at the camp the silence seemed oppressive, and he turned and retraced his steps to the office.

A crowd of men was gathered outside the office building. In single file they passed into the office to the superintendent's window, received their money silently, in almost every instance without comment or question, and passed out again. Once outside, however, there they remained, their number constantly augmented by new arrivals, for the men on the night shift had been aroused by their comrades and were now streaming down from the bunk-houses. A few laughed and joked, some looked sullen, some troubled and anxious, but all remained packed about the building, quiet, undemonstrative, and mute as dumb brutes as to their reason for staying there. They were all prepared to march boldly out of the mill and mines on the following Monday, on a strike, in obedience to orders; even to resort to violence in defence of their so-called "rights" if so ordered, but Mr. Underwood's sudden move had disarmed them; there had been no opportunity for a conference with their leaders, with the result that they acted more in accordance with their own individual instincts, and the loss of work for which they would have cared little in the event of a strike was now uppermost in their minds.

They eyed Darrell furtively and curiously, making way for him as he entered the building, but still they waited. For a few moments Darrell watched the scene, then he passed through the office into the room beyond, where he found Mr. Underwood engaged in sorting and filing papers. The latter looked up with a grim smile:

"Been down to the mill?"

"Oh, yes," Darrell answered, laughing; "I went to work as usual, only to find the door shut in my face, the same as the rest."

"H'm! What do you think of the 'strike' now?"

"I think you are making them swallow their own medicine, but I don't see why you need give me a dose of it; I haven't threatened to strike."

Mr. Underwood's eyes twinkled shrewdly as he replied, "You had better go out there and get your pay along with the rest, and then go to your room and pack up. You may not be needed at the mill again for the next six months."

"Will it be as serious as that, do you think?" Darrell inquired.

Before Mr. Underwood could reply the superintendent opened the office door hastily.

"Mr. Underwood," he said, "will you come out and speak to the men? They are all waiting outside and I can't drive them away; they say they won't stir till they've seen you."

With a look of annoyance Mr. Underwood rose and passed out into the office; Darrell, somewhat interested, followed.

"Well, boys," said Mr. Underwood, as he appeared in the doorway, "what do you want of me?"

"If you please, sir," said one man, evidently spokesman for the crowd, and whom Darrell at once recognized as Dan, the engineer,--"if you please, sir, we would like to know how long this shut-down is going to last."

"Can't tell," Mr. Underwood replied, shortly; "can't tell anything about it at present; it's indefinite."

"Well," persisted the man, "there's some of us as thought that mebbe 'twould only be till this 'ere trouble about the meals is settled, one way or t'other; and there's some as thought mebbe it hadn't nothing to do with that."

"Well?" said Mr. Underwood, impatiently.

"Well, sir," said Dan, lowering his voice a little and edging nearer Mr. Underwood, "you know as how the most of us was satisfied with things as they was, and didn't want no change and wouldn't have made no kick, only, you see, we had to, and we felt kinder anxious to know whether if this thing got settled some way and the camp opened up again, whether we could get back in our old places?"

"Dan," said Mr. Underwood, impressively, and speaking loudly enough for every man to hear, "there can be no settlement of this question except to have things go on under precisely the same terms and conditions as they've always gone; so none of your leaders need come to me for terms, for they won't get 'em. And as to opening up the mines and mill, I'll open them up whenever I get ready, not a day sooner or later; and when I do start up again, if you men have come to your senses by that time and are ready to come back on the same terms, all right; if not," he paused an instant, then added with emphasis, "just remember there'll be others, and plenty of 'em, too."

"Yes, sir; thank ye, sir," Dan answered, somewhat dubiously; then one and all moved slowly and mechanically away.

Mr. Underwood turned to Darrell. "Get your things together as soon as you can. I'm going to send down three or four of the teams after dinner, and they can take your things along. And here's the key to the mill; go over and pick out whatever you will want in the way of an assaying outfit, and have that taken down with the rest. There's no need of your going to the expense of buying an outfit just for temporary use."

By two o'clock scarcely a man remained at the camp. Mr. Underwood and Darrell were among the last to leave. Two faithful servants of Mr. Underwood's had arrived an hour or so before, who were to act as watchmen during the shut-down. Having taken them around the camp and given them the necessary instructions, Mr. Underwood then gave them the keys of the various buildings, saying, as he took his departure,--

"There's grub enough in the boarding-house to last you two for some time, but whenever there's anything needed, let me know. Bring over some beds from the bunk-house and make yourselves comfortable."

He climbed to a seat on one of the wagons, and, as they started, turned back to the watchmen for his parting admonition:

"Keep an eye on things, boys! You're both good shots; if you catch anybody prowling 'round here, day or night, wing him, boys, wing him!"

The teams then rattled noisily down the canyon road, Darrell, with Trix, bringing up the rear, feeling himself a sort of shuttlecock tossed to and fro by antagonistic forces in whose conflicts he personally had no part and no interest. However, he wasted no moments in useless regrets, but rode along in deep thought, planning for the uninterrupted pursuit of his studies amid the new and less favorable surroundings. Thus far he had met with unlooked-for success along the line of his researches and experiments, and each success but stimulated him to more diligent study.

On their arrival at Ophir, Mr. Underwood gave directions to have the assaying outfit taken to the rooms in the rear of his own offices, after which he and Darrell, with the remaining teams, proceeded in the direction of The Pines. Trix, on finding herself headed for home, quickened her steps to such a brisk pace that on reaching the long driveway Darrell was considerably in advance of the others. He had no sooner emerged from the pines into the open, in full view of the house, than Duke came bounding down the driveway to meet him, with every possible demonstration of joyous welcome. His loud barking brought the ladies to the door just as Darrell, having quickly dismounted and sent Trix to the stables, was running up the broad stairs to the veranda, the collie close at his side.

"Just look at Duke!" Kate Underwood exclaimed, shaking hands with Darrell; "and this is only the second time he has met you! You surely have won his heart, Mr. Darrell."

"You are the only person outside of Katherine he has ever condescended to notice," said Mrs. Dean, with a smile.

"I assure you I feel immensely flattered by his friendship," Darrell replied, caressing the collie; "the more so because I know it to be genuine."

"He won't so much as look at me," Mrs. Dean added.

"That is because you objected at first to having him here," said Kate; "he knows it, and he'll not forget it. But, Mr. Darrell, where is papa?"

"He will be here directly," Darrell answered, smiling as he suddenly recalled the little note within his pocket; "he is returning from the war-path with the trophies of victory."

Kate laughed and colored slightly. "Your own scalp has not suffered, at any rate," she said.

"But he has brought me back a captive; here he comes now!"

The wagon loaded with Darrell's belongings was just coming slowly into view, with Mr. Underwood on the seat beside the driver, the other teams having been sent to the stables by another route.

Darrell noted the surprise depicted on the faces beside him, and, turning to Mrs. Dean, who stood next him, he said, in a low tone,--

"I have come back to the old home, mother, for a little while; is there room for me?"

Mrs. Dean looked at him steadily for an instant, while Kate ran to meet her father; then she replied, earnestly,--

"There will always be room in the old home for you. I only wish that I could hope it would always hold you."

_Chapter XIV_

DRIFTING

Early the following week Darrell was established in his new office. The building containing the offices of the firm of Underwood & Walcott had, as Mr. Underwood informed Darrell, been formerly occupied by one of the leading banks of Ophir, and was situated on the corner of two of its principal streets. Of the three handsome private offices in the rear Mr. Underwood occupied the one immediately adjoining the general offices; the next, separated from the first by a narrow entrance way, had been appropriated by Mr. Walcott, while the third, communicating with the second and opening directly upon the street, was now fitted up for Darrell's occupancy. The carpets and much of the original furnishing of the rooms still remained, but in the preparation of Darrell's room Kate Underwood and her aunt made numerous trips in their carriage between the offices and The Pines, with the result that when Darrell took possession many changes had been effected. Heavy curtains separated that portion of the room in which the laboratory work was to be done from that to be used as a study, and to the latter there had been added a rug or two, a bookcase in which Darrell could arrange his small library of scientific works, a cabinet of mineralogical specimens, and a pair of paintings intended to conceal some of Time's ravages on the once finely decorated walls, while palms and blooming plants transformed the large plate-glass windows into bowers of fragrance and beauty, at the same time forming a screen from the too inquisitive eyes of passers-by.

Just as Darrell was completing the arrangement of his effects, Mr. Underwood and his partner sauntered into the room from their apartments. Within a few feet of the door Mr. Underwood came to a stop, his hands deep in his trousers pockets, his square chin thrust aggressively forward, while, with a face unreadable as granite, his keen eyes scanned every detail in the room. Mr. Walcott, on the contrary, made the entire circuit of the room, his hands carelessly clasped behind him, his head thrown well back, his every step characterized by a graceful, undulatory motion, like the movements of the feline tribe.

"H'm!" was Mr. Underwood's sole comment when he had finished his survey of the room.

Mr. Walcott turned towards his partner with a smile. "Mr. Darrell is evidently a prime favorite with the ladies," he remarked, pleasantly.

"Well, they don't want to try any of their prime favorite business on me," retorted Mr. Underwood, as he slowly turned and left the room.

Both young men laughed, and Walcott, with an easy, nonchalant air, seated himself near Darrell.

"I find the old gentleman has a keen sense of humor," he said, still smiling; "but some of his jokes are inclined to be a little ponderous at times."

"His humor generally lies along the lines of sarcasm," Darrell replied.

"Ah, something of a cynic, is he?"

"No," said Darrell; "he has too kind a heart to be cynical, but he is very fond of concealing it by sarcasm and brusqueness."

"He is quite original and unique in his way. I find him really a much more agreeable man than I anticipated. You have very pleasant quarters here, Mr. Darrell. I should judge you intended this as a sort of study as well as an office."

"I do intend it so. Probably for a while I shall do more studying than anything else, as it may be some time before I get any assaying."

"I think we can probably throw quite a bit of work your way, as we frequently have inquiries from some of our clients wanting something in that line."

"Walcott," said Mr. Underwood, re-entering suddenly, "Chapman is out there; go and meet him. You can conduct negotiations with him on the terms we agreed upon, but I don't care to figure in the deal. If he asks for me, tell him I'm out."

"I see; as the ladies say, you're 'not at home,'" said Walcott, smiling, as he sprang quickly to his feet. "Well, Mr. Darrell," he continued, "I consider myself fortunate in having you for so near a neighbor, and I trust that we shall prove good friends and our relations mutually agreeable."

Darrell's dark, penetrating eyes looked squarely into the half-closed, smiling ones, which met his glance for an instant, then wavered and dropped.

"I know of no reason why we should not be friends," he replied, quietly, knowing he could say that much with all candor, yet feeling that friendship between them was an utter impossibility, and that of this Walcott was as conscious as was he himself.

"Well, my boy," said Mr. Underwood, seating himself before Darrell's desk, "I guess 'twas a good thing you took the old man's advice for once. I don't know where you would find better quarters than these."

Darrell smiled. "As to following your advice, Mr. Underwood, you didn't even give me a chance. You suggested my taking one of these rooms, and then gave orders on your own responsibility for my paraphernalia to be deposited here, and there was nothing left for me to do but to settle down. However," he added, laying some money on the desk before Mr. Underwood, "I have no complaint to make. Just kindly receipt for that."

"Receipt for this! What do you mean? What is it, anyway?" exclaimed Mr. Underwood, in a bewildered tone.

"It is the month's rent in advance, according to your custom."

"Rent!" Mr. Underwood ejaculated, now thoroughly angry; "what do I want of rent from you? Can't you let me be a friend to you? Time and time again I've tried to help you and you wouldn't have it. Now I'll give you warning, young man, that one of these days you'll go a little too far in this thing, and then you'll have to look somewhere else for friends, for when I'm done with a man, I'm done with him forever!"

"Mr. Underwood," said Darrell, with dignity, "you are yourself going too far at this moment. You know I do not refuse favors from you personally. Do I not consider your home mine? Have I ever offered you compensation for anything that you or your sister have done for me? But this is a different affair altogether."

"Different! I'd like to know wherein."

"Mr. Underwood, if, in addition to your other kindnesses, you personally offered me the use of this room gratis, I might accept it; but I will accept no favors from the firm of Underwood & Walcott."

"Humph! I don't see what difference that need make!" Mr. Underwood retorted.

He sat silently studying Darrell for a few moments, but the latter's face was as unreadable as his own.

"What have you got against that fellow?" he asked at length, curiously.

"I have nothing whatever against him, Mr. Underwood."

"But you're not friendly to him."

Darrell remained silent.

"He is friendly to you," continued Mr. Underwood; "he has talked with me considerably about you and takes quite an interest in you and in your success."

"Possibly," Darrell answered, dryly; "but you will oblige me by not talking of me to him. I have nothing against Mr. Walcott; I am neither friendly nor unfriendly to him, but he is a man to whom I do not wish to be under any obligations whatsoever."

In vain Mr. Underwood argued; Darrell remained obdurate, and when he left the office a little later he carried with him the receipt of Underwood & Walcott for office rent.