"It is one of a good many uncalled for things he has been saying to me since the day before yesterday," was Ford's rejoinder.

"Yet you can still a.s.sure me that you are not vindictive."

"I am not--at the mere actors in the play. But I confess to an unholy desire to get back at the prompter--the stage manager of the little comedy. I am only waiting for your decision."

"Please!" she said; and he saw that the blue eyes were growing wistful again.

"I'm done," he said quickly. "I shan't put it up to you any more. I'll do what I think I ought to do, on my own responsibility."

But now, woman-like, she crossed quickly to the other side.

"No; you mustn't deprive me of my chance," she protested soberly. "After a little while I shall tell you what I think--what I think you ought to do. Only you must give me time."

His smile came from the depths of a lover's heart.

"You shall have all the time there is--and then some, if I can compa.s.s it. Now let's talk about something else. I've been boring you with this despicable business affair ever since you gave me leave on that foot-race down Plug Mountain Tuesday afternoon."

"What shall it be?" she inquired gaily. And then: "Oh, I know. One day last summer--just as we were leaving Chicago in the Nadia--you had begun to tell me about a certain young woman who had money, and who was--who was--"

"--who was without her peer in all this world," he finished for her.

"Yes; I remember."

"Do you still remember her, as you do the conversation?" she went on teasingly.

"I have never lost a day since I first met her."

"Good Sir Galahad!" she mocked. "And is she still worth all those sacrifices you said you would be willing to make for her?"

"All, and several more."

Silence for a little time, while the hoof-beats of a horse fox-trotting behind them drew nearer. It was the sinister-faced Mexican who ambled into view, and when he overtook the rearmost of the buckboards he was a long time in pa.s.sing.

"That dreadful man!" murmured Alicia; and she did not go back to the suspended subject until he had trotted on past the caravan. Then she said slowly, taking her companion's complete understanding for granted: "It must be delicious to be away out over one's depth, like that!"

"It is," said Ford solemnly. "It's like--well, I've never been sick a day in my life since I can remember, but I should think it might be like a--a sort of beneficent fever, you know. Haven't you ever had a touch of it?"

"Possibly--without recognizing it. Can you describe the symptoms?"

"Accurately. One day I awoke suddenly to the realization that there was one woman, in the world: before that, you know, there had always been a good many, but never just one. Then I began to discover that this one woman was the embodiment of an ideal--my ideal. She said and did and looked all the things I'd been missing in the others. I wanted to drop everything and run after her."

"How absolutely idyllic!" she murmured. "And then?"

"Then I had to come down to earth with a dull, stunning swat, of course.

There were a lot of commonplace, material things waiting to be done, and it was up to me to do them. Before I saw her, I used to think that nothing could divide time with a man's work: that there wouldn't be any time to divide. Afterward, I found out my mistake. Sleeping or waking, every day and all day, she was there: and the work went on just the same, or rather a whole lot better."

The long drive was in its final third, and the wagon track, which had transferred itself to the top of the level railroad grade, admitted speed. By degrees the caravan became elongated, with the president still in the lead, the man on horseback indifferently ahead or behind, and the other two vehicles wide apart and well to the rear. Their isolation was complete when she said:

"Do you want me to say that I don't recognize any of the symptoms, Mr.

Ford?"

"Do I--No! Yes!--that is, I--Heavens! that is a terrible way to put it!

Of course I hope--I hope you are in love--with the right person. If you're not, I--"

She was weeping silently; weeping because it would have been a sin to laugh.

"You--called it a comedy a little while--ago," she faltered. "In another minute it will be a tragedy. Don't you think we are getting too far behind the others?"

He whipped up obediently, but the horses were in no hurry. At the rounding of the next shouldering hill the railroad grade entered a high, broad valley, the swelling hills on either side dotted with the dumps and tunnel-openings of the Copah gold-diggers. Ford had not been through the upper part of the district since the previous summer of pathfindings, and at that time it was like a dozen other outlying and hardly accessible fields, scantily manned and languishing under the dry rot of isolation. But now--

He was looking curiously across at the opposing hillsides. Black dots, dozens of them, were moving from ledge to ledge, pausing here and there to ply pick and shovel. Now and then from some one of the dry arroyos came the echoes of a surface shot; dynamite cartridges thrust into the earth to clear away the drift to bed-rock. Ford called his companion's attention to the activities.

"See what it does to a mining country when a railroad comes within shouting distance," he said. "The last time I was over here, this valley was like a graveyard. Now you'd think the entire population of Copah was up here prospecting for gold."

"Is that what they are doing?" she asked. Then suddenly: "Where is your mine?--the mine with my name?"

He laughed.

"I told you the simple truth. I don't know where it is; though I suppose it is up this way somewhere. Yes, I remember, Grigsby said it was on Cow Mountain."

The hill on their side of the valley threw out a long, low spur and the railroad-grade driving track swept in a long curve around the spur and crossed over to the foot of a slope dotted with the digging manikins.

"By Jove!" said Ford, still wondering. "There are twice as many prospectors out here as there were inhabitants in Copah the last time I was over. The camp ought to vote bonds and give the railroad company a bonus."

Farther along, the grade hugged the hillside, skirting the acclivity where the shaft-houses of some of the older mines of the district were perched on little hillocks formed by their own dumps, within easy tramming distance of the railroad. Opposite and directly below the nearest of these shaft-houses the two leading buckboards had stopped; and the president was once more standing up and beckoning vigorously to the laggards in the single-seated vehicle.

Ford spoke to his horses and grimaced as one who swallows bitter herbs.

"I wonder what I've been doing now--or leaving undone?" he queried.

He was not kept long in suspense. When they drove up, the president was still standing, balancing himself with a hand on the driver's seat in front. His thin face was working nervously and the aggressive chin whiskers moved up and down like an accusing finger.

"Dear me!" said Alicia, under her breath; "Uncle Sidney is really angry, this time! What could have hap--" She glanced up at the mine buildings perched above the roadway and smothered a little cry. Ford's eyes followed hers. All across the slab-built shaft-house and the lean-to ore sheds was stretched a huge canvas sign. And in letters of bright blue, freshly painted and two feet high, ran the boastful legend:

THE LITTLE ALICIA MINE

THE ONLY PAYING PRODUCES IN THE DISTRICT

Stuart Ford & John Grigsby, Props.

The white-haired old man standing in the leading buckboard was trembling with righteous indignation. Pointing a shaking finger at the incriminating sign, he broke out in a storm of accusation.

"So, Mr. Ford! This is why you changed the route of the extension and added twelve miles to its length!" he raved. "This explains why you suddenly found the shorter route impracticable! Answer me sir: when did you become interested in this mine?"

There was a little stir of consternation among the listeners; and it did not help matters that the man on horseback ambled up at the moment and drew rein behind the doctor's vehicle. Ford's hands were gripping the reins until the stiff leathers were crumpled into strings; but it was Alicia's touch on his arm that enabled him to reply coldly:

"It was something over two months ago, I believe. I can give you the exact date when we reach Copah, though you will permit me to say that it is none of your business."

Mr. Colbrith exploded like a hastily fired bomb.