The wrath of a man who is slow to anger cannot lightly be turned aside and, though Virginia drooped her lashes, the son of Honest John brushed past her without a word. She had followed him gratuitously to Death Valley’s cabin and seriously questioned his good faith; and then, to fan the flames of his just resentment, she had suggested that he was telling an untruth. He had told her–and it seemed impossible–that Blount had offered him half the Paymaster, on shares; but the following morning, without a word of warning, the Paymaster Mine shut down. The pumps stopped abruptly, all the tools were removed, and as the foreman and miners who had been their boarders rolled up their beds and prepared to depart, the high-headed Virginia buried her face in her hands and retired to her bedroom to weep. And then to cap it all that miserable assayer sent in his belated report.

“Gold–a trace. Silver–blank. Copper–blank. Lead–blank. Zinc–blank.”

The heavy white quartz which Wiley had made so much of was as barren as the dirt in the street. It had absolutely no value and–oh, wretched 99thought–he had offered to buy her stock out of charity! Out of the bigness of his heart–and then she had insulted him and accused him of robbing Death Valley Charley! In the light of this new day Death Valley was a magnate, with his check for two hundred dollars, and Virginia and her mother must either starve on in silence or accept the bounty of the Holmans. It was maddening, unbelievable–and to think what he had suffered from her, before he had finally gone off in a rage. But how sarcastic he had been when she had accused him of robbing Charley, and of standing in with Blount! He had said things then which no woman could forgive; no, not even if she were in the wrong. He had led her on to make unconsidered statements, smiling provokingly all the time; and then, when she had doubted that Blount had offered him the mine, he had said, “Well, ask him!” and shut the door in her face! And now, without asking, the question had been answered, for Blount had closed down the mine in despair and gone back to his bank in Vegas.

The Paymaster was dead, and Keno was dead; and their eight hundred dollars was gone. All the profits from the miners which they had counted upon so confidently had disappeared in a single day; and now her mother would have to pawn her diamonds again in order to get out of town. Virginia paced up and down, debating the situation and seeking some possible escape, but every door was closed. She could not appeal to Wiley, 100for she knew her stock was worthless, and her hold on his sympathies was broken. He was a Yankee and cold, and his anger was cold–the kind that will not burn itself out. When he had loved her it was different; there was a spark of human kindness to which she could always appeal; but now he was as cold and passionless as a statue; with his jaws shut down like iron. She gave up and went out to see Charley.

Death Valley was celebrating his sudden rise to affluence by a resort to the flowing bowl and when Virginia stepped in she found all three phonographs running and a two-gallon demijohn on the table. Death Valley himself was reposing in an armchair with one leg wrapped up in a white bandage and as she stopped the grinding phonographs and made a grab for the demijohn he held up two fingers reprovingly.

“I’m snake-bit,” he croaked. “Don’t take away my medicine. Do you want your Uncle Charley to die?”

“Why, Charley!” she cried, “you know you aren’t snake-bit! The rattlesnakes are all holed up now.”

“Yes–holed up,” he nodded; “that’s how I got snake-bit. It was fourteen years ago, this month. Didn’t you ever hear of my snake-mine–it was one of the marvels of Arizona–a two-foot stratum of snakes. I used to hook ’em out as fast as I needed them and try out the oil to cure rheumatism; but one day I dropped one and he bit me on the leg, and it’s been bad that same 101month ever since. Would you like to see the bite? There’s the pattern of a diamond-back just as plain as anything, so I know it must have been a rattler.”

He reached resolutely for the demijohn and took a hearty drink whereat Virginia sat down with a sigh.

“I’ll tell you something,” went on Charley confidentially. “Do you know why a snake shakes its tail? It’s generating electricity to shoot in the pisen, and the longer a rattlesnake rattles-”

“Oh, now, Charley,” she begged, “can’t you see I’m in trouble? Well, stop drinking and listen to what I say. You can help me a lot, if you will.”

“Who–me?” demanded Charley, and then he roused himself up and motioned for a dipper of water. “Well, all right,” he said, “I hate to kill this whiskey-” He drank in great gulps and made a wry face as he rose up and looked around.

“Where’s Heine?” he demanded. “Here Heine, Heine!”

“You drove him under the house,” answered Virginia petulantly, “playing all three phonographs at once. Really, it’s awful, Charley, and you’d better look out or mother will give you the bounce.”

“Scolding women–talking women,” mused Charley drunkenly. “Well; what do you want me to do?”

“I’m notscolding!” denied Virginia, and then as he leered at her she gave way weakly to tears. “Well, I can’t help it,” she wailed, “she scolds me all the time and–she simply drives me to it.”

102“They’ll drive you crazy,” murmured Charley philosophically. “There’s nothing to do but hide out. But I must save the rest of that whiskey for the Colonel.”

He reached for the demijohn and corked it stoutly, after which he turned to Virginia.

“Do you want some money?” he asked more kindly, bringing forth his roll as he spoke. “Well here, Virginny, there’s one hundred dollars–it’s nothing to your Uncle Charley. No, I got plenty more; and I’m going up the Ube-Hebes just as soon as I find my burros. They must be over to Cottonwood–there’s lots of sand over there and Jinny, she’s hell for rolling. No, take the money; I got it from Wiley Holman and he’s got plenty more.”

He dropped it in her lap, but she jumped up hastily and put it back in his hands.

“No, not that money,” she said, “but listen to me, Charley; here’s what I want you to do. I’ve got some stock in the Paymaster Mine that Wiley was trying to buy; but now–oh, you saw how he treated me yesterday–he wouldn’t take it, if he knew. But Charley, you take it; and the next time you see him–well, try to get ten cents a share. We want to go away, Charley; because the mine is closed down and-”

“Yes, yes, Virginny,” spoke up Death Valley, soothingly, “I’ll get you the money, right away.”

“But don’t you tell him!” she warned in a panic, “because-”

103“You ought to be ashamed,” said Charley reprovingly and went out to hunt up his burros. Virginia lingered about, looking off across the desert at the road down which Wiley had sped, and at last she bowed her head. Those last words of Charley’s still rang in her ears and when, towards evening, he started off down the road she watched him out of sight.

It was a long, dry road, this highway to Vegas, but twenty miles out, at Government Wells, there was water, and a good place to camp. Charley stopped there that night, and for three days more, until at last in the distance he saw Wiley’s white racer at the tip of a streamer of dust. He went by like the wind but when he spied Charley he slowed down and backed up to his camp.

“Hel-lo there, Old Timer,” he hailed in surprise, “what are you doing, away out here?”

“Oh, rambling around,” responded Charley airily, waving his hand at the world at large. “It’s good for man to be alone, away from them scolding women.”

The shadow of a smile passed over Wiley’s bronzed face and then he became suddenly grim.

“Bum scripture, Charley,” he said, nodding shortly, “but you may be right, at that. What’s the excitement around beautiful Keno?”

“I don’t know,” lied Charley. “Ain’t been in town since you was there, but she was sure booming, then. Say, I’ve got some stock in that Paymaster Mine that I might let you have, for cash. 104I’m burnt out on the town–they’s too many people in it–I’m going back to the Ube-Hebes.”

“Well, take me along, then,” suggested Wiley, “and we’ll bring back a car-load of that gold. Maybe then I could buy your stock.”

“No, you buy it now,” went on Charley insistently. “I’m broke and I need the money.”

“Oh, you do, eh?” jested Wiley. “Still thinking about that wedding trip? Well, I may need that money myself.”

“Eh, heh, heh,” laughed Charley, and drawing forth a package he began to untie the strings. “Eh, heh; yes, that’s right; I’ve been watching you young folks for some time. But I’ll sell you this stock of mine cheap.”

He unrolled a cloth and flashed the certificates hopefully, but Wiley did not even look at them.

“Nope,” he said, “no Paymaster for me. I wouldn’t accent that stock as a gift.”

“But it’s rich!” protested Charley, his eyes beginning to get wild. “It’s full of silver and gold. I can feel the electricity when I walk over the property–there’s millions and millions, right there!”

“Oh, there is, eh?” observed Wiley, and, snatching away the certificates, he ran them rapidly over. “Where’d you get these?” he asked, and Death Valley blinked, though he looked him straight in the eyes.

“Why, I–bought ’em,” he faltered, “and–the Colonel gave me some. And-”

105“How much do you want for them?” snapped Wiley, and Charley blinked again.

“Ten cents a share,” he answered, and Wiley’s stern face hardened.

“You take these back,” he said, “and tell her I don’t want ’em.”

“Who–Virginny?” inquired Death Valley, and then he kicked his leg and looked around for Heine.

“Now, here,” spoke up Wiley, “don’t go to slapping that dog. How much do you want for the bunch?”

“Four hundred dollars!” barked Charley, and stood watchful and expectant as Wiley sat deep in thought.

“All right,” he said, and as he wrote out the check Death Valley chuckled and leered at Heine.