A COUPLE of hours later Roderick arrived at Buell Hampton’s home. The Major was alone; there were no signs of Jim Rankin or Tom Sun; no traces of the recent midnight toil. The room looked just the same as on the occasion of Roderick’s last visit, now more than two months ago, except for a curtain hanging across one wall.

Buell Hampton was seated before the great fireplace and notwithstanding the season of the year had a small bed of coals burning.

“It takes the chill away, for one thing,” he explained after greeting his visitor, “and then it gives me the inspiration of real live embers into which to look and dream. There are so many poor people in the world, so much suffering and so many heartaches, that one hardly knows where to begin.”

“Well, Major,” said Roderick, “I am glad to find you in this mood. I’m one of the sufferers—or at least have been. I have come to you for some heartache balm. Oh, I’m not jesting. Really I came here tonight determined to give you my confidence—to ask your advice as to my future plans.”

“I am extremely glad you feel toward me like that, my lad,” exclaimed Buell Hampton, grasping Roderick’s arm and looking kindly into his eyes. “I have always felt some subtle bond of sympathy between us. I have wanted to help you at the outset of a promising career in every way I can. I count it a privilege to be called in to comfort or to counsel, and you will know later that I have something more for you than mere words of advice.”

“Well, it is your advice I want most badly now, Major. In the first place I have thrown up my job with Mr. Shields.”

“Tired of cow-punching?” nodded Buell Hampton with a smile. “I knew that was coming.”

“In the second place I want to be perfectly candid with you. I have a prospecting venture in view.”

“That I have guessed from several hints you have dropped from time to time.”

“Well, you spoke a while ago about your reserving some little interest for me in your great gold discovery. That was mighty kind, and rest assured I appreciate your goodness to one who only a few months ago was a stranger to you.”

“You forget that I am a reader of character—that no kindred souls are strangers even at a first meeting, my son.”

Buell Hampton spoke very softly but very clearly; his gaze rested fixedly on Roderick; the latter felt a thrill run through him—yes, assuredly, this great and good man had been his friend from the first moment they had clasped hands.

“You were very good then, Major,” he replied, “in judging me so kindly. But I am afraid that I evoked your special sympathy and interest because of the confidences I gave you at one of our early meetings. You will not have forgotten how I spoke in a most sacred way about certain matters in Galesburg and what I intended to do when I had sufficient money to carry out my plans.”

“I remember distinctly,” said the Major. “Your frank confidence greatly pleased me. Well, has anything happened?”

“There is just one man on earth I will show this letter to, and you, Major, are the man.”

Saying this Roderick handed over Stella Rain’s letter.

After the Major had carefully perused it and put it back in the envelope, he reached across to Roderick.

“No,” said Roderick, “don’t give that letter back to me. Kindly lay it on the red coals and let me see it burn to gray ashes. I have fought this thing out all alone up in the hills, and I am now almost glad that letter came, since it had to be. But let it vanish now in the flames, just as I am going to put Stella Rain forever out of my thoughts. Yesterday the receipt of this letter was an event; but from now on I shall endeavor to regard it as only an incident.”

Silently and musingly the Major complied with Roderick’s request and consigned the letter to the glowing embers. When the last trace had disappeared, he looked up at Roderick.

“I will take one exception to your remarks,” he said. “Do not think unkindly of Stella Rain, nor even attempt to put her out of your thoughts. Her influence over you has been all for good during the past months, and she has shown herself a very fine and noble woman in the gentle manner in which she has broken the bonds that had tied you—bonds impulsively and all too lightly assumed on your part, as she knew quite well from the beginning. I have a profound admiration for your little ‘college widow,’ Roderick, and hold her in high esteem.”

There was just the suspicion of tears in Roderick’s eyes—a lump in his throat which rendered it impossible for him to reply. Yes; all bitterness, all sense of humiliation, were now gone. He too was thinking mighty kindly of sweet and gentle Stella Rain.

“Remember,” continued the Major quietly, “you told me how she warned you that some other day another girl, the real girl, would come along. I guess that has happened now.”

Roderick started; there was a protesting flush upon his cheek.

“Even though you may not yet fully realize it,” quietly added the Major.

“What do you mean?” faltered Roderick; the flush of offended dignity had now turned into the blush of confusion.

The Major smiled benignantly.

“Oh, my young friend, remember again that I read men’s minds and hearts just a little. There must be some new influence in your life.”

“How do you know that—how can you say that?”

Buell Hampton laid a hand on the young man’s shoulder and smiled.

“Because otherwise you would be still up among the hills alone, young man. Your fight in the wilderness would have lasted for forty days—not for a single night. The fever of love does not die down so suddenly without an antidote. The resignation you have shown while we burned that letter is not merely a negative condition of mind. There is something positive as well.”

“Oh, I can’t admit that,” protested Roderick. “Or at least I dare not allow myself to think like that,” he corrected himself hurriedly.

“Well, we shall see what we shall see. Meanwhile all is well. The rich harvest of experience has been reaped; the fertile soil awaits the next tillage. The important moment of every life is ‘The Now.’ And this is what we have to think about tonight, Roderick.”

“Precisely, Major. And that is just why I opened the conversation. As I said at the outset, you assigned me an interest in your gold mine for a specific object that no longer exists.”

“On the contrary,” replied Buell Hampton, “I assigned it on general principles—on the general principle of helping a worthy young man at the critical period of starting into useful life-work. But I may tell you also,” he laughed lightly, “that I had in my mind’s eye valuable and important future services whereby the interest would be paid for most adequately.”

“And these services are what?” asked Roderick, with a delighted gleam in his eyes.

“We’ll come to that presently. Where is Grant Jones?”

“He was to follow me here in half an hour. Time’s almost up, unless he’s on the trail of a newspaper scoop.” Roderick was smiling happily now.

“Well, we shall await his coming. What do you say to a little music to beguile the time?”

The Major glanced at his violin resting on a side table.

“Nothing would give me greater pleasure,” responded Roderick, jumping up with alacrity and handing to the master his old Cremona.

“I am glad you like music,” said Buell Hampton, as he began to tighten his bow. “Its rhythmic cadences of tone are a language universal. Its power is unseen but felt, captivating and enthralling alike the cultured and the untutored. The harmony of tone enwraps the soul like a mantle. It influences heart and intellect It may depress in saddest tears or elevate to highest ecstasy. Music is the melody of the Gods. It is like an ethereal mist—a soft and dainty distillation of a thousand aromatic perfumes, inspiring and wholesome to the soul as the morning dew is to buds and blossoms.”

As he spoke he had been gently thrumming the strings, and now he placed the violin to his chin. Soft and plaintive melodies alternating with wild and warring airs followed one after the other until the entire room seemed to be quivering with melody. For fully an hour, unconscious of the passing time, the Major entertained his guest, and concluded with a rapid surging theme as if it were a call to battle and for greater achievements.

Grant Jones had not yet arrived. Roderick recovered from the trance into which the music had thrown him. He thanked the Major for the pleasure he had given, then threw a glance at the doorway.

“Where the deuce can he be?” he murmured.

But at the very moment the door opened, and in walked the belated editor.

“Where have you been all this time?” asked Roderick, half petulantly.

“On the porch of course,” replied Grant. “Do you think I was going to interrupt such divine melody?”

Buell Hampton smiled pleasedly while he laid down the violin on the table.

“Well,” he said, “be seated, Grant, my boy. I am going to lose no further time. I have some figures to work on tonight. This is my first night at home, Roderick, for many weeks. Grant already knows the story. Now I shall tell it to you.”

And straightway the Major related how Jim Rankin, Tom Sun, and Boney Earnest had garnered the midnight harvests of gold. Then he drew aside the curtain hanging on the wall, unlocked the stout door which it concealed, and, to Roderick’s amazement, displayed the piled up sacks of golden ore.

“All quite equal to the rich samples you handled here several months ago,” said Buell Hampton, as he waved his hand toward the accumulated treasure.

“Great CÆsar!” gasped Roderick. “There must be hundreds of thousands of dollars there.”

“The total will run into millions, young man,” smiled the Major. Then he closed the door, relocked it, and dropped the curtain. But he did not resume his seat.

“Now this is where your services, and those of Grant Jones will come in. This great wealth must be safely transported to Denver. And as I have already explained to you tonight, I still want to guard jealously my secret of the Hidden Valley on whose resources I may or may not draw again—this the future must decide. All of us who are interested have abundance for the present; we are equipped for many good works. The removal of this large quantity of ore, without attracting public attention here, requires good judgment on the part of men who can be absolutely trusted. You are the men selected for the responsible duty. And remember it will be dangerous duty should our secret leak out. The days of hold-ups are passing in the West, but have not yet passed; for as you both know there are still a good few desperadoes among the wilds of our Wyoming mountains.”

“My God—what loot!” murmured Roderick, glancing toward the curtain.

“Yes—a rich loot,” acquiesced the Major. “Now you young men will understand that your interests are my own—that while I am delighted to share this treasure with my chosen friends, these friends have been and continue to be quite indispensable to me. Roderick, your question earlier in the evening is answered—you will have a rightful share in this gold. Get ready in about a week’s time to earn it Now go tonight. I will see you later on to unfold my plans for the journey in closer detail.”

“Great guns,” groaned Grant Jones, as the two young men gained the roadway. “What a newspaper story—what a scoop! And not one damned word can be put in type.”