"I just want to give it back--and have it over with!" she exclaimed with an embittered smile. "I've practiced and I've practiced but it doesn't do any good, and now I'm going to quit."

"Oh, if that's all," jeered Denver, "I'll locate another claim, and let you give that back. What good would it do him if you did give it back--he'd just sit in the shade and tell stories."

"Don't you talk that way about my father!" she exclaimed, "he's the nicest, kindest man that ever lived! He's not strong enough to work in this awful hot weather but he intended to open this up in the fall."

"Well, it's opened up already," announced Denver grimly. "You just show him that piece of rock."

"Oh, have you found something?" she cried s.n.a.t.c.hing up the chunk of ore.

"Why, this doesn't look like silver!"

"No, it isn't," he said, and at the look in his eyes she leapt up and ran down the trail.

She came back immediately with her father and mother and, after a moment of pop-eyed staring, the Professor came waddling along behind.

"Where'd you get this?" called Bunker as he strode up the trail and Denver jerked his thumb towards the tunnel.

"At the breast," he said. "Looks pretty good, don't it? I _thought_ it would run into copper!"

"Vot's dat? Vot's dat?" clamored the Professor from the fork of the trail and Bunker gave Denver the wink.

"Aw, that ain't copper," he declared, "it's just this green hornblende.

We have it around here everywhere."

"All right", answered Denver, "you can have it your own way--but I call it copper, myself."

"Vot--_copper_?" demanded the Professor making a clutch at the specimen and examining it with his myopic eyes, and then he broke into a roar. "Vot--dat copper?" he cried, "you think dat is copper? Oh, ho, ho!

Oh, vell! Dis is pretty rich. It is nutting but manganese!"

"That's all right," returned Denver, "you can think whatever you please; but I've worked underground in too many copper mines----"

"Where'd you get this?" broke in Bunker, giving Denver a dig, and as they went into the tunnel he whispered in his ear: "Keep it dark, or he'll blab to Murray!"

"Well, let him blab," answered Denver, "it's nothing to me. But all the same, pardner," he added _sotto voce_, "if I was in your place I wouldn't bank too much on holding them claims with a lead-pencil."

"I'm holding 'em with a six-shooter," corrected Bunker, "and Murray or n.o.body else don't dare to jump a claim. I'm known around these parts."

"Suit yourself," shrugged Denver as they came to the face, "I guess this ore won't start no stampede. That seam in the hanging wall is where it comes in--I'm looking for the veins to come together."

"Judas priest!" exclaimed Bunker jabbing his candlestick into the copper streak, "say, this is showing up good. And your silver vein is widening out, too. Nothing to it, boy; you've got a mine!"

"Not yet," said Denver, "but wait till she dips. This is nothing but a blanket vein, so far; but if she dips and goes down then look out, old-timer, she's liable to turn out a bonanza."

"Well, who'd a thought it," murmured Old Bunk turning somberly away, "and I've been holding her for fifteen years!"

He led the way out, stooping down to avoid the roof; and outside the stoop still remained.

"Where's the Professor?" he asked, suddenly looking about, "has he gone to tell Murray, already? Well, by grab then, he knew it was."

"Oh, _was_ it copper?" quavered Drusilla catching hold of his hand and looking up into his tired eyes, "and you sold it for five hundred dollars! But that's all right," she smiled, drawing his head down for a kiss. "I'll just have to succeed now--and I'm going to!"

CHAPTER XIII

SWEDE LUCK

As the sun set that evening in a trailing blaze of glory Denver Russell came out and sat with bared arms, looking lazily down at the town. The news of his strike had roused them at last, these easy-going, do-nothing old-timers; and now, from an outcast, a crack-brained hobo miner, he was suddenly accepted as an equal. They spoke to him, they recognized him, they rushed up to his mine and stared at the ore he had dug; and even the Professor had purloined a specimen to take over and show to Murray.

And all because, while the rest of them loafed, he had drifted in on his vein until he cut the stringer of copper. It was Swede luck again--the luck of that great people who invented the wheel-barrow, and taught the Irish to stand erect and run it.

Denver could smile a little, grimly, as he recalled Old Bunker's stories and his fleering statement that a mule could work; but, now that he had struck copper at the breast of his tunnel, the mule was suddenly a gentleman. He was good enough to speak to, and for Bunker's daughter to speak to, and for his wife to invite to supper; and all on account of a vein of copper that was scarcely two inches thick. It was rich and it widened out, instead of pinching off as a typical gash-vein would; and while it would take a fortune to develop it, it was copper, and copper was king. Silver and gold mines were nothing now, for silver was down and gold was losing its purchasing power; but the mining journals were full of articles about copper, and it had risen to thirty cents a pound.

Thirty cents, when a few years ago it had dropped as low as eleven! And it was still going up, for the munition factories were clamoring for it and the speculators were bidding up futures. Even Bible-Back Murray, who had a reputation as a pincher, had suddenly become prodigal with his money and was working day and night, trying to tap a hidden copper deposit. He had caught the contagion, the lure of tremendous profits, and he was risking his all on the venture. What would he have to say now if his diamond drill tapped nothing and a hobo struck it rich over at Queen Creek? Well, he could say what he pleased, for Denver was determined not to sell for a million dollars. He had come there with a purpose, in answer to a prophecy, and there yet remained to win the golden treasure and the beautiful woman who was an artist.

Every little thing was coming as the seeress had predicted--good Old Mother Trigedgo with her cards and astrology--and all that was necessary was to follow her advice and the beautiful Drusilla would be his. He must treat her at first like any young country girl, as if she had no beauty or charm; and then in some way, unrevealed as yet, he would win her love in return. He had schooled himself rigidly to resist her fascination, but when she had looked up at him with her beseeching blue eyes and asked him to sell back the mine, only a miracle of intercession had saved him from yielding and accepting back the five hundred dollars.

He was like clay in her hands--her voice thrilled him, her eyes dazzled him, her smile made him forget everything else--yet just at the moment when he had reached out for the money the memory of the prophecy had come back to him. And so he had refused, turning a deaf ear to her entreaties, and scoffing at her easy-going father; and she had gone off down the trail without once looking back, promising Bunker she would become a great singer.

Denver smiled again dreamily as he dwelt upon her beauty, her hair like fine-spun gold, her eyes that mirrored every thought; and with it all, a something he could not name that made his heart leap and choke him. He could not speak when she first addressed him, his brain had gone into a whirl; and so he had sat there, like a great oaf of a miner, and refused to give her anything. It was rough, yet the Cornish seeress had required it; and doubtless, being a woman herself, she understood the feminine heart. At the end of his long reverie Denver sighed again, for the ways of astrologers were beyond him.

In the morning he rose early, to muck out the rock and clear the tunnel for a new round of holes; and each time as he came out with a wheel-barrow full of waste he c.o.c.ked his eye to the west. Bible-Back Murray would be coming over soon, if he was still at his camp around the hill. Yet the second day pa.s.sed before he arrived, thundering in from the valley in his big, yellow car; and even then he made some purchases at the store before he came up to the mine.

"Good morning!" he hailed cheerily, "they tell me you've struck ore.

Well, well; how does the vein show up?"

"'Bout the same," mumbled Denver and glanced at him curiously. He had expected a little fireworks.

"About the same, eh?" repeated Murray, flicking his rebellious gla.s.s eye, which had a tendency to stare off to one side, "is this a sample of your ore? Well, I will say, it looks promising--would you mind if I go into the tunnel?"

"Nope," returned Denver; and then, after a moment's pause: "How's that gun-man of yours getting along?"

"Oh, Dave? He's all right. I'll ask you over sometime and let you get better acquainted."

"Never mind," answered Denver, "I know him all I want to. And if I catch him on my ground I'll sure make him jump--I don't like the way he talked to me."

"Well, he's rough, but he's good hearted," observed Murray pacifically.

"I'm sorry he spoke to you that way--shall we go in now and look at the vein?"

Denver grunted non-committally and led Murray into the tunnel, which had turned now to follow the ore. Whatever his game was it was too deep for Denver, so he looked on in watchful silence. Murray seemed well acquainted with mining--he looked at the foot-wall and hanging-wall and traced out the course of both veins; and then, without offering to take any samples, he turned and went out to the dump.

"Yes, very good," he said, but without any enthusiasm, "it certainly looks very promising. Well, good day, Mr. Russell; much obliged."

He started down the trail, leaving Denver staring, and then he turned hurriedly back.

"Oh, by the way," he said, "I buy and sell ore. When you get enough sacked you might send it down by McGraw and I'll give you a credit at the store."

"Yes, all right," a.s.sented Denver and stood looking after him till he cranked up and went roaring away. Not a word about the t.i.tle, nothing said about his warning; and no mention made of his well-known ability to break any man in the county. The facts, apparently, were all that interested him then--but he might make an offer later. When the vein was opened up and he had made his first s.h.i.+pment, when it began to look like a mine! Denver went back to work and as he drove in day by day he was careful to save all the ore.