This man had been gone hardly more than ten minutes when a second horseman rode down the trail. There might have been doubt in the case of the first rider, but it was certain that the second was in a hurry.

He urged his horse recklessly, apparently in pursuit of the first man, whom he followed below the canyon's rim.

De Launay was earlier than usual at his post the next day. Yet he was not too early to meet the evidence of activity which was even more alert than his. But before he could settle himself he saw the trail across the canyon alive with moving men and beasts. In ones, twos, and threes they came. Some rode singly and without outfit, while others urged on pack animals. But one and all were in a hurry.

He counted more than twoscore travelers who dropped into Shoestring within an hour and a half. Then there was a pause in the rush. For an hour no more came.

After that flowed in another caravan. His gla.s.ses showed these were better equipped than the first comers though he was too far away to get any accurate idea of what they carried. Still a dim suspicion was filling his mind, and as each of the newcomers rushed down the trail and over the canyon rim his suspicion took more vivid form until it became conviction and knowledge.

"By heavens! It's a mining rush!"

His mind worked swiftly. He jumped at the evidence he had seen where Banker had staked a claim. The prospector had ridden to Maryville to record the claims. He had been followed, and in an incredibly short time here were veritable hordes rushing into Shoestring Canyon. If this was the vanguard what would be the main body? It must have been a strike of fabulous proportions that had caused this excitement. And that strike must be----

"French Pete's Bonanza!" he almost yelled.

The thing was astounding and it was true. In naming a rendezvous he, himself, had directed these men to the very spot--because there was no other spot. The obvious, as usual, had been pa.s.sed by for years while the seekers had sought in the out-of-the-way places. But where would Pete find a mine when he was returning to the ranch with his flock?

Surely not in the out-of-the-way places, for he would not be leading his sheep by such ways. He would be coming through the range by the shortest and most direct route, the very route that was the most frequented--and that was the trail over the range and down Shoestring Canyon.

De Launay wanted to shout with laughter as he thought of the search of years ending in this fashion: the discovery of the Bonanza, under the very nose of the dead man's daughter, by the very man who had murdered him!

But his impulse was stifled as his keen mind cast back over the past days. He recalled the rescue of Solange and the ambush from the top of the great, flat outcrop. Vague descriptions of Pete's location, heard in casual talks with Solange, came to him. The old sheep-herder had been able to describe his find as having been made where he had eaten his noonday meal "on a rock." That rock--the Lunch Rock, as it had been called, had even given the mine a name in future legend, as the Peg Leg had been named.

But there had been no rock that could answer the description near the camp. At least there had been only one, and that one had been the flat outcrop on which Banker had lain at length and from which he had attempted to shoot De Launay.

Then swiftly he recalled Solange's cry of warning and his own swift reaction. He had fired at the eyes and forehead appearing above the edge of the rock and he had hit the edge of the rock itself. He had laughed to see the mad prospector clawing at his eyes, filled with the powdered rock, and had laughed again to see his later antics as he stood upright, while De Launay rode away, waving his arms in the air and yelling.

He saw now what had caused those frantic gestures and shouts. It had been he, De Launay, who had uncovered to the prospector's gaze the gold which should have been mademoiselle's.

No wonder he had no desire to laugh as he turned back into the valley.

He was weighted down with the task that was his. He had to tell Solange that the quest on which she had come was futile. That her mine was found--but by another, and through his own act. He visualized those wonderful eyes which had, of late, looked upon him with such soft fire, dulling under the chilling shock of disappointment, mutely reproaching him for her misfortune and failure.

The wild Vale of Avalon, which had seemed such a lovely haven for Morgan _la fee_, had lost its charm. He plodded downward and across the rank gra.s.s, going slowly and reluctantly to the cabin. Entering it, he went first to Sucatash, asking him how he felt.

The cow-puncher raised himself with rapidly returning strength, noting the serious expression on De Launay's face.

"I'm getting right hearty," he answered. "I'll drag myself out and sit up to-night, I reckon. But you don't look any too salubrious yourself, old-timer. Aimin' to answer sick call?"

"No," said De Launay. "Thinking about mademoiselle. You remember those stakes we saw?"

"Banker's claim? Sure."

"Well, he's struck something. There is a small army pouring into Shoestring from Maryville. It's a regular, old-time gold rush."

"d.a.m.n!" said Sucatash, decisively.

He pondered the news a moment.

"In these days," he finally said, "with gold mines bein' shut down because it don't pay to work 'em, there wouldn't be no rush unless he'd sure struck something remarkable."

"You've guessed it!" said De Launay.

"It's French Pete's mine?"

"I don't see any other explanation."

Again Sucatash was silent for a time. Then:

"That little girl is sure out o' luck!" he said. There was a deep note of sympathy in the casual comment. And the cow-puncher looked at De Launay in a manner which the soldier readily interpreted.

"No mine, no means of support, no friends within five thousand miles; nothing--but a husband she doesn't want! Is that what you're thinking?"

"Not meaning any offense, it was something like that," said Sucatash, candidly.

"She'll get rid of the inc.u.mbrance, without trouble," said De Launay, shortly.

"Well, she ain't quite shy of friends, neither. I ain't got no gold mines--never took no stock in them. But I've got a bunch of cows and the old man's got a right nice ranch. If it wasn't for one thing, I'd just rack in and try my luck with her."

"What's the one thing?"

"You," said Sucatash, briefly.

"I've already told you that I don't count. Her marriage was merely a formality and she'll be free within a short time."

Sucatash grinned. "I hate to contradict you, old-timer. In fact, I sure wish you was right. But, even if she don't know it herself, I know. It sure beats the deuce how much those eyes of hers can say even when they don't know they're sayin' it."

De Launay nodded. He was thinking of the lights in them when she had turned them on him of late.

"They told _me_ something, not very long ago--and I'm gamblin' there won't be any divorce, pardner."

"There probably won't," De Launay replied, shortly. "It won't be necessary."

He got up and went into the other room where Solange reclined on the bunk. He found her sitting up, dressed once more in leather breeches and flannel shirtwaist, and looking almost restored to full strength.

Her cheeks were flushed again, but this time with the color of health.

The firelight played on her hair, glowing in it prismatically. Her eyes, as she turned them on him, caught the lights and drew them into their depths. They were once more fathomless and hypnotic.

But De Launay did not face them. He sat down on a rude stool beside the fire and looked into the flame. His face was set and indifferent.

"Monsieur," said Solange, "you are changed again, it seems. It is not pleasant to have you imitate the chameleon, in this manner. What has happened?"

"Your mine has been found," said De Launay, shortly.

Solange started, half comprehending. Then, as his meaning caught hold, she cried out, hesitating, puzzled, not knowing whether his manner meant good news or bad.

"But--if it has been found, that is good news? Why do you look so grim, monsieur? Is it that you are grieved because it has been found?"

De Launay had half expected an outburst of joyous questions which would have made his task harder. In turn, he was puzzled. The girl did not seem either greatly excited or overjoyed. In fact, she appeared to be doubtful. Probably she could not realize the truth all at once.

"It has been found," he went on, harshly, "by Banker, the prospector from whom I rescued you."

Solange remained still, staring at him. He sat with elbows on his knees, his face outlined in profile by the fire. Clean and fine lined it was, strong with a thoroughbred strength, a face that a woman would trust and a man respect. As she looked at it, noting the somber suppression of emotion, she read the man's reluctance and disappointment for her. She guessed that he buried his feelings under that mask and she wondered wistfully how deep those feelings were.