It takes an iron nerve to come back for more punishment right after a solar plexus blow, but Judson Eells had that kind. Phillip F. Lapham went to pieces and began to beg, but Eells reached out for the papers.

“Just give me that contract,” he suggested amiably; “there must be some mistake.”

“Yes, you bet there’s a mistake,” came back Wunpost triumphantly, “but we’ll show these papers to the judge. This ain’t the first time you’ve tried to put one over, but you robbed us once before.”

He turned to Wilhelmina, whose eyes were dark with rage, and she nodded and stood close beside him.

“Yes,” she said, “and I was selling it for almost nothing, just to get that miserable grubstake. Oh, I think you just ought to be–hung!”

She took one of the contracts and ran through it to make sure, and Eells coughed and sent Lapham away.

“Now let’s sit down,” he said, “and talk this matter over. And if, through an oversight, the clause 252has been left out perhaps we can make other arrangements.”

“Nothing doing,” declared Wunpost. “You’re a crook and you know it; and I don’t want that grubstake contract, nohow. And there’s a feller in town that I know for a certainty will give five hundred thousand dollars, cash.”

“Oh, no!” protested Eells, but his glance was uneasy and he smiled when Wilhelmina spoke up.

“Well, I do!” she said. “I want that grubstake contract cancelled. But forty thousand dollars-”

“I’ll give you more,” put in Eells, suddenly coming to life. “I’ll bond your mine for a hundred thousand dollars if you’ll give me a little more time.”

“And will you bring out that grubstake contract and have it cancelled in my presence?” demanded Wilhelmina peremptorily, and Eells bowed before the storm.

“Yes, I’ll do that,” he agreed, “although a hundred thousand dollars-”

“There’s a hundred thousand in sight!” broke in Wunpost intolerantly. “But what do you want to trade with a crook like that for?” he demanded of Wilhelmina, “when I can get you a certified check? Is he the only man in town that can buy your mine? I’ll bet you I can find you twenty. And if you don’t get an offer of five hundred thousand cash-”

“I’ll make it two hundred,” interposed Judson Eells hastily, “and surrender the cancelled grubstake!”

253“I don’t want the danged grubstake!” burst out Wunpost impatiently. “What good is it now, when my claim has been jumped and I ain’t got a prospect in sight? No, it ain’t worth a cent, now that the Sockdolager is located, and I don’t want it counted for anything.”

“But I want it,” objected Wilhelmina, “and I’m willing to let it count. But if others will pay me more-”

“I’ll bond your mine,” began Judson Eells desperately, “for four hundred thousand dollars-”

“Don’t you do it,” came back Wunpost, “because under a bond and lease he can take possession of your property. And if he ever gits a-hold of it-”

“I’m talking to Miss Campbell,” blustered Eells indignantly, but his guns were spiked again. Wilhelmina knew his record too well, for he had driven her from the Willie Meena, and yet she lingered on.

“Suppose,” she said at last, “I should sell my mine elsewhere; how much would you take for that grubstake?”

“I wouldn’t sell it at any price!” returned Judson Eells instantly. “I’m convinced that he has other claims.”

“Well, then, how much will you give me in cash for my mine and throw the grubstake in?”

“I’ll give you four hundred thousand dollars in four yearly payments-”

“Don’t you do it,” butted in Wunpost, but Wilhelmina 254turned upon him and he read the decision in her eye.

“I’ll take it,” she said. “But this time the papers will be drawn up by a lawyer that I will hire. And I must say, Mr. Eells, I think the way you changed those papers-”

“It ought to put him in the Pen,” observed Wunpost vindictively. “You’re easy–and you’re compounding a felony.”

“Well, I don’t know what that is,” answered Wilhelmina recklessly, “but anyway, I’ll get that grubstake.”

“Well, I know one thing,” stated Wunpost. “I’m going to keep these papers until he makes the last of those payments. Because if he don’t dig that gold out inside of four years it won’t be because he don’t try.”

“No, you give them to me,” she demanded, pouting, and Wunpost handed them over. This was a new one on him–Wilhelmina turning pouty! But the big fight was over, and when Eells went away she dismissed John C. Calhoun and cried.

It takes time to draw up an ironclad contract that will hold a man as slippery as Eells, but two outside lawyers who had come in with the rush did their best to make it air-tight. And even after that Wunpost took it to Los Angeles to show a lawyer who was his friend. When it came back from the friend there was a proviso against everything, including death and acts of God. But Judson Eells signed it and made a first payment of twenty-five thousand dollars 255down, after which John C. Calhoun suddenly dropped out of sight before Wilhelmina could thank him. She heard of him later as being in Los Angeles, and then he came back through Blackwater; but before she could see him he was gone again, on some mysterious errand into the hills. Then she returned to the ranch and missed him again, for he went by without making a stop. A month had gone by before she met him on the street, and then she knew he was avoiding her.

“Why, good morning, Miss Campbell,” he exclaimed, bowing gallantly; “how’s the mine and every little thing? You’re looking fine, there’s nothing to it; but say, I’ve got to be going!”

He started to rush on, but Wilhelmina stopped him and looked him reproachfully in the eye.

“Where have you been all the time?” she chided. “I’ve got something I want to give you.”

“Well, keep it,” he said, “and I’ll drop in and get it. See you later.” And he started to go.

“No, wait!” she implored, tagging resolutely after him, and Wunpost halted reluctantly. “Now I know you’re mad at me,” she charged; “that’s the first time you ever called me Miss Campbell.”

“Is that so?” he replied. “Well, it must have been the clothes. When you wore overalls you was Billy, and that white dress made it Wilhelmina; and now it’s Miss Campbell, and then some.”

He stopped and mopped the sweat from his perspiring brow, but he refused to meet her eye.

“Won’t you come up to my office?” she asked 256very meekly. “I’ve got something important to tell you.”

“Is that feller Eells trying to beat you out of your money?” he demanded with sudden heat, but she declined to discuss business on the street. In her office she sat him down and closed the door behind them, then drew out a contract from her desk.

“Here’s that grubstake agreement, all cancelled,” she said, and he took it and grunted ungraciously.

“All right,” he rumbled; “now what’s the important business? Is the bank going broke, or what?”

“Why, no,” she answered, beginning to blink back the tears, “what makes you talk like that?”

“Well, I was just into Los Angeles, trying to round up that bank examiner, and I thought maybe he’d made his report.”

“What–really?” she cried, “don’t you think the bank is safe? Why, all my money is there!”

“How much you got?” he asked, and when she told him he snorted. “Twenty-five thousand, eh?” he said. “How’d he pay you–with a check? Well, he might not have had a cent. A man that will rob a girl will rob his depositors–you’d better draw out a few hundred.”

She rose up in alarm, but something in his smile made her sit down and eye him accusingly.

“I know what you’re doing,” she said at last; “you’re trying to break his bank. You always said you would.”

“Oh, that stuff!” he jeered, “that was nothing but 257hot air. I’m a blow-hard–everybody knows that.”

She looked at him again, and her face became very grave, for she knew what was gnawing at his heart. And she was far from being convinced.

“You didn’t thank me,” she said, “for returning your grubstake. Does that mean you really don’t care? Or are you just mad because I took away your mine? Of course I know you are.”

“Sure, I’m mad,” he admitted. “Wouldn’t you be mad? Well, why should I thank you for this? You take away my mine, that was worth millions of dollars, and gimme back a piece of paper.”

He slapped the contract against his leg and thrust it roughly into his shirt, at which Wilhelmina burst into tears.

“I–I’m sorry I stole it,” she confessed between sobs, “and now Father and everybody is against me. But I did it for you–so you wouldn’t get killed–and so Father could have his road. And now he won’t take it, because the money isn’t ours. He says I’m to return it to you.”

“Well, you tell your old man,” burst out Wunpost brutally, “that he’s crazy and I won’t touch a cent. I guess I know how to get my rights without any help from him.”

“Why, what do you mean?” she queried tremulously, but he shut his mouth down grimly.

“Never mind,” he said, “you just hold your breath, and listen for something to drop. I ain’t through, by no manner of means.”

“Oh, you’re going to fight Eells!” she cried out 258reproachfully. “I just know something dreadful will happen.”

“You bet your life it will–but not to me. I’m after that old boy’s hide.”

“And won’t you take the money?” she asked regretfully, and when he shook his head she wept. It was not easy weeping, for Wilhelmina was not the kind that practises before a mirror, and the agony of it touched his heart.

“Aw, say, kid,” he protested, “don’t take on like that–the world hasn’t come to an end. You ain’t cut out for this rough stuff, even if you did steal me blind, but I’m not so sore as all that. You tell your old man that I’ll accept ten thousand dollars if he’ll let me rebuild that road–because ever since it washed out I’ve felt conscience-stricken as hell over starting that cloudburst down his canyon.”

He rose up gaily, but she refused to be comforted until he laid his big hand on her head, and then she sprang up and threw both arms around his neck and made him give her a kiss. But she did not ask him to forgive her.