"But, Polly, you must supply with your own vivid imagination, the details that may be missing from my account. When I tell you that the vandals were slowly backed away from the Cliffs and were, eventually, driven to the gully back of the Devil's Causeway where those two men were engulfed in the slide, the day they came to cajole your father into signing papers for the Cliffs, you can picture their horror when the edge of the great cliff began to crumble in. They could not turn to right or left, as they were hemmed in by the pursuers, and they dared not remain where they were for fear of being swallowed in the quicksand that was already sliding downwards. So they gave up to the sheriff and surrendered their guns.

"That was a bad case, as one of the sheriff's men had been dangerously wounded and it was feared he would die. All our valuable machinery was ruined and all orders for the delivery of the lava jewels had to be cancelled, or postponed for a year. So the culprits each got twenty years and Oak Creek is quieter, by far, because more than a score of its worst citizens are safely housed in jail."

As Tom ended his story, Polly unclasped her hands which she had nervously clenched during the recital of the raids on her precious property.

"Oh, Tom! I never dreamed of all the trouble everyone would have because of those precious mines, the day Nolla and I filed our papers at Oak Creek," gasped Polly.

"No one does dream of these things--they only see the future in rosy hues," retorted Tom.

"And to think of the work and worry John and you have had in establishing this great undertaking, while I was in Europe taking life easy, and spending money without a thought of how it was being produced at home!"

sighed Polly.

"That is as it should be, Polly. You were not squandering the money, but using it in ways to profit yourself for the future. John and I knew, when we started in on this mining venture, that the line would not lay in flower-strewn paths, but that it might force us over all sorts of snags, before we reached success."

"Well, it is fine of you to talk like this, Tom," admitted Polly, gratefully. "If it were not for you boys taking an interest in the work, I might as well say 'good-by' to the gold."

Tom laughed. "Polly, this is so insignificant a work to do for you--just taking an interest in your mine. Some day I hope to prove in some greater way, just what I want to, and can, do for you."

Tom's manner and looks again alarmed Polly and she changed the subject adroitly. "Tom, do you like the home in Pebbly Pit? Isn't it different from living in the city, in these apartments?"

Tom smiled, for he understood. "Yes, it is fine, Polly. It is a real home--with your blessed mother at the ranch-house. I have lived in adobe huts in Arizona, and out on sand wastes in New Mexico, you know, so that Pebbly Pit is great, in comparison."

"Mother told me how good it was to have Anne and you with her all summer, while I was abroad," said Polly, after a short interval of silence. "I feel that it was not so heartless of me to enjoy myself in Europe as I did, so long as mother and father were not lonely and homesick for me."

"But your mother often said to me, that were it not for Anne's being with her, she would have cabled you to come home. She had looked forward so anxiously to your spending this vacation at Pebbly Pit," remarked Tom.

"My! Then I was more fortunate than I dreamed of," laughed Polly. "I should have hated to leave Eleanor in Europe, with such a wonderful tour before us, and come back home without having done the whole trip."

Tom had no desire to hear more about that enjoyable tour and the probable acquaintance the girls had made with eligible young men with fascinating t.i.tles. So he spoke of his imminent departure for the West.

"I had a talk with Dad and Mr. Dalken today, and they think it best for me to get back at the mines without further delay. The mountain storms will soon be sweeping over the peaks, and winter protection must be completed at the Cave and Flume before then; so I think I shall be leaving in a day, or so."

Polly murmured some friendly regret at his going so soon.

"But the need of my being at the mines to prepare for winter is not the main cause of my leaving New York, so soon," began Tom, moodily. "I came East with a definite hope in mind, but so many unforeseen events have happened since I met you, that I haven't furthered my interests since I left Pebbly Pit." Tom waited for encouragement from Polly.

Polly did not pursue the subject, however, but she said: "Well, this winter, I have planned to actually _work_!"

"I thought you said you have been working ever since you came to New York," laughed Tom.

"Yes, at school and in other ways; but now, I propose going to work in Mr. Ashby's shop. You know, he has a wonderful place on Fifth Avenue where they have every kind of article one needs in the way of ornament or decorating. There is where Eleanor and I managed to get such splendid experience in textiles and other objects familiar to interior decorators.

"Now I propose going to work for him at a stated salary, and giving every morning to the work, this year. In the afternoons I will be free to visit Exhibitions, Museums, hunt up antiques, or just play. Four evenings every week we will attend school and lectures, you know, so there will not be very much time left in which to write letters."

"You never did work hard at writing letters," said Tom, smilingly.

"No, and this winter there will be even less time for them. My friends will have to be satisfied with picture post-cards or telegrams," laughed Polly, hoping that would answer all expected requests for a correspondence.

"Well," said Tom, "I only write to people I really want to hear from. And I never ask anyone to write to me unless I take a great deal of pleasure in reading their letters. I never asked you to correspond with me, have I?"

"No-o, I think not," replied Polly, disconcerted at this announcement.

She had felt sure he was going to beg her to write as often as possible, and now this was so different!

"I thought not! You see our likes and pursuits are so different. The very difference in our ways of living now--you with luxurious art in New York, me in the rugged life of a miner in the Rockies, creates a gulf between our ideals. Mine is getting at gold that is the basis of most worldly success, and yours is an ideal and aspiration in art that transcends my common work and business. So we would not know what to say to each other in letters, would we? You would not wish to speak of gold and mining, and I haven't any idea of art or its ideals."

What it must have cost Tom to say all this, no one knows, but he was piqued, at last, and so acted his part admirably; and he had the satisfaction of seeing that Polly felt sorry at his words.

"Tom, I always felt sure you were an idealist at soul. It makes me feel a deep regret to learn that you have no such ideals left."

Tom bid Polly good-by without an outward sign of regret, and so she sat and pondered over that unusual fact, long after he had gone.

CHAPTER VI

POLLY AND ELEANOR BEGIN COLLECTING

Within a week after the westerners had gone back home, matters with Polly and her friends in New York settled down in a smooth current. The Fabians found a commodious house in a refined environment quite near the Ashby's home, and the two girls, Polly and Eleanor, lived with them.

Mr. Fabian temporarily resumed his lectureship at the Art School of Cooper Union, and his two promising pupils, with Dodo Alexander as a new beginner, accompanied him every night that the cla.s.ses met.

The Alexanders had leased an expensive suite at an apartment hotel near the Fabians, and much to little Mr. Alexander's joy, although much to Mrs. Alexander's disgust, they settled down to a hum-drum life that winter. She sighed as she referred to her life.

"Dear sakes! Here I am with all this money to spend on a fine time, and I have to waste my days sitting around hearing Dodo rave about Corunthian Columns, Ionack Piers, and such foolish stuff. As for Ebeneezer! He is just impossible to get along with, since he found what quiet friends he had in the Fabians and the Ashbys!"

The result of such complaints from Mrs. Alexander were soon evidenced by her spending her evenings at theatres, dances at various clubs and places she had forced an entrance to, and in daily shopping trips about the city.

The motley collection of antiques the girls had secured while abroad and had shipped home, arrived in due season and the cases were sent to Mr.

Ashby's Shop. The girls were told that the goods had been delivered, and the next day they hastened to the establishment to admire their purchases.

The articles were arranged in one small room, and when the three girls followed Mr. Ashby to the place, they were amazed at the insignificance of their exhibition.

"Why! I thought I had a lot of stuff," declared Eleanor.

"You see all that you bought. There is your list," laughed Mr. Ashby, sympathizing in her disillusionment.

"And I thought that chest so much more elaborate--when I chose it in France," ventured Polly, puckering her forehead.

"I'll tell you why," said Mr. Ashby. "When we see these pieces on the other side, the glamour of the places and the stories connected with them, actually charm us more than the objects themselves. After we secure our desires and find we own them, we ship them home and do not see them again until they reach prosaic and business-like New York.

"Meantime, we enhance the beauty and romance of the objects we purchased, by thinking of them in connection with the romance of their past; thus idealizing them in mental pictures, they appear far finer and more alluring than in truth they are.

"When we really view them again, just as you are now doing, the shock of finding them just simple antiques, and so inferior to what we dreamed them, reverses our sentiments about them.

"Now beware, girls! Don't let this reversal affect you, in the least.

These objects are just as valuable and desirable, here, as ever they were over there. It is only your personal view-point that has changed, somewhat. You have not been visiting old collections, or museums abroad, for some weeks now; and the radical change from touring ancient Europe, to rushing about in New York in quests of homes, school, and clothes for the season, has made a corresponding change in your minds.