"But you're free now, Rimrock, and--that makes a difference. You must learn to wait, and be friends."

"Oh--h.e.l.l!" he burst out as she flitted away from him. But she was deaf--she turned back and smiled.

CHAPTER XIII

THE MORNING AFTER

The morning after found Rimrock without regrets and, for once, without a head. He had subtly judged, from something she had said, that Mary did not like whiskey breaths, nor strong cigars, nor the odors of the two combined. So, having certain words to speak in her ear, he had refrained, with the results as aforesaid. For the first time in her life she had looked him in the eye and acknowledged, frankly, that she liked him. But she had not kissed him--she drew the line there--and once more in his shrewd unsophisticated way he judged it was never done, in her set.

He found her in the office when he appeared the next morning, with her harness over her head. It was the sign in a way that she was strictly business and all personal confidences were taboo, but Rimrock did not take the hint. It annoyed him, some way, that drum over her ear and the transmitter hung on her breast, for when he had seen her the evening before all these things had been set aside.

"What? Still wearing that ear-thing?" he demanded bluffly and she flushed and drew her lips tight. It was a way she had when she restrained some quick answer and Rimrock hastened on to explain. "You never wore it last night and--and you could hear every word I said."

"That was because I knew what you were going to say."

She smiled, imperceptibly, as she returned the retort courteous and now it was Rimrock who blushed. Then he laughed and waved the matter aside.

"Well, let it go at that," he said sitting down. "Gimme the books, I'm going to make you a director at our next meeting."

Mary Fortune looked at him curiously and smiled once more, then rose quickly and went to the safe.

"Very well," she said as she came back with the records, "but I wonder if you quite understand."

"You bet I do," he said, laying off his big hat and spreading out the papers and books. "Don't fool yourself there--we've got to be friends--and that's why I'm going the limit."

He searched out the certificate where, to qualify him for director, he had transferred one share of the Company stock to Buckbee, and filled in a date on the back.

"Now," he went on, "Mr. Buckbee's stock is cancelled, and his resignation automatically takes place. Friend Buckbee is all right, but dear friend W. H. Stoddard might use him to slip something over.

It's We, Us and Company, you and me, little Mary, against Whitney H.

Stoddard and the world. Do you get the idea? We stand solid together--two directors out of three--and the Tecolote is in the hollow of our hand."

"Your hand!" she corrected but Rimrock protested and she let him have his way.

"No, now listen," he said; "this doesn't bind you to anything--all I want is that we shall be friends."

"And do you understand," she challenged, "that I can vote against you and throw the control to Stoddard? Have you stopped to think that I may have ideas that are diametrically opposed to your own? Have you even considered that we might fall out--as we did once before, you remember--and that then I could use this against you?"

"I understand all that--and more besides," he said as he met her eyes.

"I want you, Mary. My G.o.d, I'm crazy for you. The whole mine is nothing to me now."

"Oh, yes, it is," she said, but her voice trailed off and she thought for a minute in silence.

"Very well," she said, "you have a right to your own way--but remember, this still leaves me free."

"You know it!" he exclaimed, "as the desert wind! Shake hands on it--we're going to be friends!"

"I hope so," she said, "but sometimes I'm afraid. We must wait a while and be sure."

"Ah, 'wait'!" he scolded. "But I don't like that word--but come on, let's get down to business. Where's this Abercrombie Jepson? I want to talk to him, and then we'll go out to the mine."

He grabbed up his hat and began to stride about the office, running his hand lovingly over the polished mahogany furniture, and Mary Fortune spoke a few words into the phone.

"He'll be here in a minute," she said and began to straighten out the papers on her desk. Even to Rimrock Jones, who was far from systematic, it was evident that she knew her work. Every paper was put back in its special envelope, and when Abercrombie Jepson came in from his office she had the bundle back in the safe.

He was a large man, rather fat and with a ready smile, but with a harried look in his eye that came from handling a thousand details; and as Rimrock turned and faced him he blinked, for he felt something was coming.

"Mr. Jepson," began Rimrock in his big, bl.u.s.tering voice, "I want to have an understanding with you. You're a Stoddard man, but I think you're competent--you certainly have put things through. But here's the point--I've taken charge now and you get your orders from me. You can forget Mr. Stoddard. I'm president and general manager, and whatever I say goes."

He paused and looked Jepson over very carefully while Mary Fortune stared.

"Very well, sir," answered Jepson, "I think I understand you. I hope you are satisfied with my services?"

"We'll see about that later," went on Rimrock, still arrogantly. "I'll begin my tour of inspection to-day. But I'll tell you right now, so there won't be any mistake, that all I ask of you is results. You won't find me kicking about the money you spend as long as it comes back in ore. You're a competent man, so I've been given to understand, and, inside your field, you're the boss. I won't fire any of your men and I won't interfere with your work without having it done through you; but on the other hand, don't you forget for a single minute that I'm the big boss on this dump. And whatever you do, don't make the mistake of thinking you're working for Stoddard. I guess that will be all. Miss Fortune is going to be a director soon and I've asked her to go out with us to the mine."

A strange, startled look came over Jepson's face as he received this last bit of news, but he smiled and murmured his congratulations. Then he expressed the hope that he would be able to please them and withdrew with the greatest haste.

"Well!" observed Rimrock as he gazed grimly after him, "I guess that will hold Mr. Jepson."

"Very likely," returned Mary, "but as a prospective director may I enquire the reason for this outburst?"

"You may," replied Rimrock. "This man, Abercrombie Jepson, was put over on me by Stoddard. I had to concede something, after holding out on the control, and I agreed he could name the supe. Well now, after being the whole show, don't you think it more than likely that Mr.

Jepson might overlook the main squeeze--me?"

He tapped himself on the breast and nodded his head significantly.

"That's it," he went on as she smiled enigmatically. "I know these great financiers. I'll bet you right now our fat friend Abercrombie is down telegraphing the news to Stoddard. He's Stoddard's man but I've got my eye on him and if he makes a crooked move, it's bingo!"

"All the same," defended Mary, "while I don't like him personally, I think Jepson is remarkably efficient. And when you consider his years of experience and the technical knowledge he has----"

"That has nothing to do with it, as far as I'm concerned--there are other men just as good for the price--but I want him to understand so he won't forget it that he's taking his orders from _me_. Now I happen to know that our dear friend Stoddard is out to get control of this mine and the very man that is liable to ditch us is this same efficient Mr. Jepson. Don't ever make the mistake of giving these financiers the credit of being on the level. You can't grab that much money in the short time they've been gathering without gouging every man you meet.

So just watch this man Jepson. Keep your eye on his accounts, and remember--we're pardners, now."

His big, excited eyes, that blazed with primitive emotion whenever he roused from his calm, became suddenly gentle and he patted her hand as he hurried off to order up the car.

All the way across the desert, as Mary exclaimed at the signs of progress, Rimrock let it pa.s.s in silence. They left the end of the railroad and a short automobile ride put them down at the Tecolote camp. Along the edge of the canyon, where the well-borers had developed water, the framework of a gigantic mill and concentrator was rapidly being rushed to completion. On the flats below, where Old Juan's burros had browsed on the scanty mesquite, were long lines of houses for the miners and a power plant to run the great stamps. A big gang of miners were running cuts into the hillside where the first of the ore was to come out and like a stream of ants the workmen and teams swarmed about each mighty task, but still Rimrock Jones remained silent. His eyes opened wider at sight of each new miracle but to Jepson he made no comments.

They went to the a.s.say house, where the diamond drill cores showed the ore from the heart of the hills; and there at last Rimrock found his tongue as he ran over the a.s.sayer's reports.

"Pretty good," he observed and this time it was Jepson who tightened his lips and said nothing. "Pretty good," repeated Rimrock and then he laughed silently and went out and sat down on the hill. "A mountain of copper," he said, looking upward. "The whole b.u.t.te is nothing but ore.

Some rich, some low-grade, but shattered--that's the idea! You can scoop it up with a steam shovel."

He whistled through his teeth, c.o.c.king his eye up at the mountain and then looking down at the townsite.

"You bet--a big camp!" And then to Jepson: "That's fine, Mr. Jepson; you're doing n.o.ble. By the way, when will that cook-house be done?

Pretty soon, eh? Well, let me know; I've got a friend that's crazy to move in."