A. Maynard Barbour

Three weeks of clear, cold weather followed, in which the snow became packed and frozen until the horses' hoofs on the mountain roads resounded as though on asphalt, and the steel shoes of the heavily laden sleds rang out a cheerful rhyme on the frosty air.

These were weeks of strenuous application to work on Darrell's part. His evenings were now spent, far into the night, in writing. He still kept the journal begun during his first winter in camp, believing it would one day prove of inestimable value as a connecting link between past and future. The geological and mineralogical data which he had collected through more than twelve months' research and experiment was now nearly complete, and he had undertaken the work of arranging it, along with copious notes, in form for publication. It was an arduous but fascinating task and one to which he often wished he might devote his entire time.

He was sitting before the fire at night, deeply engrossed in this work, when he was aroused by the sound of hoof-beats on the mountain road leading from the canyon to the camp. He listened; they came rapidly nearer; it was a horseman riding fast and furiously, and by the heavy pounding of the foot-falls Darrell knew the animal he rode was nearly exhausted. On they came past the miners' quarters towards the office building; it was then some messenger from The Pines, and at that hour—Darrell glanced at the clock, it was nearly midnight—it could be no message of trifling import.

Darrell sprang to his feet and, rushing through the outer room, followed by Duke barking excitedly, opened the door just as the rider drew rein before it. What was his astonishment to see Bennett, one of the house servants, on a panting, foam-covered horse.

"Ah, Mr. Darrell," the man cried, as the door opened, "it's a good thing that you keep late hours; right glad I was to see the light in your window, I can tell you, sir!"

"But, Bennett, what brings you here at this time of night?" Darrell asked, hastily.

"Mrs. Dean sent me, sir. Mr. Underwood, he's had a stroke and is as helpless as a baby, sir, and Mrs. Dean's alone, excepting for us servants. She sent me for you, sir; here's a note from her, and she said you was to ride right back with me, if you would, sir."

"Certainly, I'll go with you," Darrell answered, taking the note; "but that horse must not stand in the cold another minute. Ride right over into the stables yonder; wake up the stable-men and tell them to rub him down and blanket him at once, and then to saddle Trix and Rob Roy as quickly as they can. And while they're looking after the horses, you go over to the boarding-house and wake up the cook and tell him to get us up a good, substantial hand-out; we'll need it before morning. I'll be ready in a few minutes, and I'll meet you over there."

"All right, sir," Bennett responded, starting in the direction of the stables, while Darrell went back into his room. Opening the note, he read the following:

Darrell's face grew thoughtful as he refolded the missive. He glanced regretfully at his notes and manuscript, then carefully gathered them together and locked them in his desk, little thinking that months would pass ere he would again resume the work thus interrupted. Then only stopping long enough to write a few lines of explanation to Hathaway, the superintendent, he seized his fur coat, cap, and gloves, and hastened over to the boarding-house where a lunch was already awaiting him. Half an hour later he and Bennett were riding rapidly down the road, Duke bounding on ahead.

They reached The Pines between four and five o'clock. Darrell, leaving the horses in Bennett's care, went directly to the house. Before he could reach the door it was opened by Mrs. Dean.

"I ought not to have sent for you on such a night as this!" she exclaimed, as Darrell entered the room, his clothes glistening with frost, the broad collar turned up about his face a mass of icicles from his frozen breath; "but I felt as though I didn't know what to do, and I wanted some one here who did. I was afraid to take the responsibility any longer."

"You did just right," Darrell answered, dashing away the ice from his face; "I only wish you had sent for me earlier—as soon as this happened. How is Mr. Underwood?"

"He is in pretty bad shape, but the doctors think he will pull through. They have been working over him all night, and he is getting so he can move the right hand a little, but the other side seems badly paralyzed."

"Is he conscious?"

"Yes, he moves his hand when we speak to him, but he looks so worried. That was one reason why I sent for you; I thought he would feel easier to know you were here."

As Darrell approached the bedside he was shocked at the changes wrought in so short a time in the stern, but genial face. It had aged twenty years, and the features, partially drawn to one side, had, as Mrs. Dean remarked, a strained, worried expression. The eyes of the sick man brightened for an instant as Darrell bent over him, assuring him that he would attend to everything, but the anxious look still remained.

"I don't know anything about David's business affairs," Mrs. Dean remarked, as she and Darrell left the room, "but I know as well as I want to that this was brought on by some business trouble. I am satisfied something was wrong at the office yesterday, though I wouldn't say so to any one but you."

"Why do you think so?" Darrell queried, in surprise.

"Because he was all right when he went away yesterday morning, but when he came home at noon he was different from what I had ever seen him before. He had just that worried look he has now, and he seemed absent-minded. He was in a great hurry to get back, and the head book-keeper tells me he called for the books to be brought into his private office, and that he spent most of the afternoon going through them. He says that about four o'clock he went through the office, and David was sitting before his desk with his head on his hands, and he didn't speak or look up. A little while afterwards they heard the sound of something heavy falling and ran to his room, and he had fallen on the floor."

"It does look," Darrell admitted, thoughtfully, "as though this may have been caused by the discovery of some wrong condition of affairs."

"Yes, and it must be pretty serious," Mrs. Dean rejoined, "to bring about such results as these."

"Well," said Darrell, "we may not be able to arrive at the cause of this for some time. The first thing to be done is to see that you take a good rest; don't have any anxiety; I will look after everything. As soon as it is daylight it would be well to telegraph for Mr. Britton if you know his address, and possibly for Miss Underwood unless he should seem decidedly better."

But Mrs. Dean did not know Mr. Britton's address, no word having been received from him since his departure, and with the return of daylight Mr. Underwood had gained so perceptibly it was thought best not to alarm Kate unnecessarily.

For the first few days the improvement in Mr. Underwood's condition was slow, but gradually became quite pronounced. Nothing had been heard from Walcott since his sudden leave-taking, but about a week after Mr. Underwood's seizure word was received from him that he was on his way home. As an excuse for his prolonged absence and silence he stated that his father had died and that he had been delayed in the adjustment of business matters.

It was noticeable that after receiving word from Walcott the look of anxiety in Mr. Underwood's face deepened, but his improvement was more marked than ever. It seemed as though the powerful brain and indomitable will dominated the body, forcing it to resume its former activity. By this time he was able to move about his room on crutches, and on the day of Walcott's return he insisted upon being placed in his carriage and taken to the office. At his request Darrell accompanied him and remained with him.

Walcott, upon his arrival in the city, had heard of the illness of his senior partner, and was therefore greatly surprised on entering the offices to find him there. He quickly recovered himself and greeted Mr. Underwood with expressions of profound sympathy. To his words of condolence, however, Mr. Underwood deigned no reply, but his keen eyes bent a searching look upon the face of the younger man, under which the latter quailed visibly; then, without any preliminaries or any inquiries regarding his absence, Mr. Underwood at once proceeded to business affairs.

His stay at the office was brief, as he soon found himself growing fatigued. As he was leaving Walcott inquired politely for Mrs. Dean, then with great particularity for Miss Underwood.

"She is out of town at present," Mr. Underwood replied, watching Walcott.

"Out of town? Indeed! Since when, may I inquire?"

"You evidently have not been in correspondence with her," Mr. Underwood commented, ignoring the other's question.

"Well, no," the latter stammered, slightly taken aback by his partner's manner; "I had absolutely no opportunity for writing, or I would have written you earlier, and then, really, you know, it was hardly to be expected that I would write Miss Underwood, considering her attitude towards myself. I am hoping that she will regard me with more favor after this little absence."

"You will probably be able to judge of that on her return," the elder man answered, dryly.

Kate, on being informed by letter of her father's condition, had wished to return home at once. She had been deterred from doing so by brief messages from him to the effect that she remain with her friends, but she was unable to determine whether those messages were prompted by kindness or anger. On the evening following Walcott's return, however, Mr. Underwood dictated to Darrell a letter to Kate, addressing her by her pet name, assuring her of his constant improvement, and that she need on no account shorten her visit but enjoy herself as long as possible, and enclosing a generous check as a present.

To Darrell and to Mrs. Dean, who was sitting near by with her knitting, this letter seemed rather significant, and their eyes met in a glance of mutual inquiry. After Mr. Underwood had retired Darrell surprised that worthy lady by an account of her brother's reception of Walcott that day, while she in turn treated Darrell to a greater surprise by telling him of Kate's renunciation of Walcott at the last moment, before she knew anything of the postponement of the wedding.

As they separated for the night Darrell remarked, "I may be wrong, but it looks to me as though the cause of Mr. Underwood's illness was the discovery of some evidence of bad faith on Walcott's part."

"It looks that way," Mrs. Dean assented; "I've always felt that man would bring us trouble, and I hope David does find him out before it's too late."