“What is the matter with your friend?” asked Overton, as Lyster stood staring after Mr. Haydon, who walked alone down the way they had come from the boats. “Is one glimpse of our camp life enough to drive him to the river again?”

“No, no—that is—well, I don’t just know what ails him,” confessed Lyster, rather lamely. “He went in with me to see ’Tana, and seems all upset by the sight of her. She does look very low, Dan. At home he has a daughter about her age, who really resembles her a little—as he does—a girl he thinks the world of. Maybe that had something to do with his feelings. I don’t know, though; never imagined he was so impressionable to other people’s misfortunes. And that satanic-looking old Indian helped make things uncomfortable for him.”

“Who—Akkomi?”

“Oh, that is Akkomi, is it? The old chief who was too indisposed to receive me when I awaited admittance to his royal presence! Humph! Well, he seemed lively enough a minute ago—said something to Haydon that nearly gave him fits; and then, as if satisfied with his deviltry, he collapsed into the folds of his blanket again, and looks bland and innocent as a spring lamb at the present speaking. Is he grand chamberlain of your 195 establishment here? Or is he a medicine man you depend on to cure ’Tana?”

“Akkomi said something to Mr. Haydon?” asked Overton, incredulously. “Nonsense! It could not have been anything Haydon would understand, anyway, for Akkomi does not speak English.”

Lyster looked at him from the corner of his eyes, and whistled rather rudely.

“Now, it is not necessary for any reason whatever, for you to hide the accomplishments of your noble red friend,” he remarked. “You are either trying to gull me, or Akkomi is trying to gull you—which is it?”

“What do you mean?” demanded Overton, impatiently. “You look as though there may be a grain of sense in the immense amount of fool stuff you are talking. Akkomi, maybe, understands English a little when it is spoken; but, like many another Indian who does the same, he will not speak it. I have known him for two years, in his own camp and on the trail, and I have never yet heard him use English words.”

“Well, I have not had the felicity of even a two-hour acquaintance with his royal chieftainship,” remarked Lyster, “but during the limited space of time I have been allowed to gaze on him I am confident I heard him use five English words, and use them very naturally.”

“Can you tell me what they were?”

“Certainly; and I see I will have to—and maybe bring proof to indorse me before you will quite credit what I tell you,” answered Lyster, with an amused expression. “You can scarcely believe a tenderfoot has learned more of your vagabond reds than you yourself knew, can you? Well, I distinctly heard him say to Mr. Haydon: ‘See! She looks at you.’ But his other mutterings did not 196 reach my ears; they did Haydon’s, however, and drove him out yonder. I tell you, Dan, you ought to chain up your medicine men when capitalists brave the wilds of the Kootenai to lay wealth at your doorstep, for this pet of yours is not very engaging.”

Overton paid little heed to the chaffing of his friend. His gaze wandered to the old Indian, who, as Lyster said, was at that moment a picture of bland indifference. He was sunning himself again at the door of Harris’ cabin, and his eyes followed sleepily the form of Mr. Haydon, who had stopped at the creek, and with hands clasped back of him, was staring into the swift-flowing mountain stream.

“Oh, I don’t doubt you, Max,” said Overton, at last. “Don’t speak as if I did. But the idea that old Akkomi really expressed himself in English would suggest to me a vital necessity, or else that he was becoming weak in his old age; for his prejudice against his people using any of the white men’s words has been the most stubborn thing in his whole make-up. And what strong necessity could there be for him to address Mr. Haydon, an utter stranger?”

“Don’t know, I am sure—unless it is that his interest in ’Tana is very strong. You know she saved the life of his little grandchild—the future chief, you said. And I think you are fond of asserting that an Indian never forgets a favor; so it may be that his satanic majesty over there only wanted to interest a seemingly influential stranger in a poor little sick girl, and was not aware that he took an uncanny way of doing it. Had we better go down and apologize to Haydon?”

“You can—directly. Who is he?” 197

“Well, he is the great moneyed mogul at the back of the company for whom you have been doing some responsible work out here. I guess he is what you call a silent partner; while Mr. Seldon—my relation, you know—has been the active member in the mining deals. They have been friends this long time. I have heard that Seldon was to have married Haydon’s sister years ago. Wedding day set and all, when the charms of a handsome employee of theirs proved stronger than her promise, and she was found missing one morning; also the handsome clerk, as well as a rather heavy sum of money, to which the clerk had access. Of course, they never supposed that the girl knew she was eloping with a thief. But her brother—this one here—never forgave her. An appeal for help came to him once from her—there was a child then—but it was ignored, and they never heard from her again. Haydon was very fond of her, I believe—fond and proud, and never got over the disgrace of it. Seldon never married, and he did what he could to make her family forgive her, and look after her. But it was no use, though their regard for him never lessened. So you see they are partners from away back; and while Haydon is considerable of an expert in mineralogy, this is the first visit he has ever made to their works up in the Northwest. In fact, he had not intended coming so far north just now; he was waiting for Seldon, who was down in Idaho. But when I got your letter, and impressed on his mind the good business policy of having the firm investigate at once, he fell in with the idea, and—here we are! Now, that is about all I can tell you of Haydon, and how he came here.”

“Less would have been plenty,” said Overton, with a pretended sigh of relief. “I didn’t ask to be told his 198 sister’s love affairs or his brother-in-law’s failings. I was asking about the man himself.”

“Well, I don’t know what to tell you about him; there doesn’t seem to be anything to say. He is T. J. Haydon, a man who inherited both money and a genius for speculation. Not a plunger, you know; but one of those pursy, far-seeing fellows who always put their money on the right number and wait patiently until it wins. I might tell you that he was sentimental once in his life, and got married; and I might tell you of a pretty daughter he has (and whom he used to be very much afraid I would make love to), but I suppose you would not be interested in those exciting details, so I will refrain. But as to the man himself and his trip here, I can only say, if you have made a strike up here, he is the very best man I know to get interested. Better even than Seldon, for Seldon always defers to Haydon, while Haydon always acts on his own judgment. And say, old fellow, long as we have talked, you have not yet told me one word of the new gold mine. I suspected none of the Ferry folks knew of it, from the general opinion that your trip here was an idiotic affair. Even the doctor said there was no sane reason why you should have dragged Harris and ’Tana into the woods as you did. I kept quiet, remembering the news in your letter, for I was sure you did not decide on this expedition without a good reason. Then the contents of that letter I read the night Harris collapsed—well, it stuck in my mind, and I got to wondering if your bonanza was the one he had found before. Oh, I’ve been doing some surmising about it. Am I right?”

“Pretty nearly,” assented Overton. “Of course I knew some of the folks would raise a howl because I let ’Tana 199 come along; but it was necessary, and I thought it would be best for her in the end, else you may be sure—be very sure—I would not have had her come. She—was to have gone back—at once—the very next day; but when the next day came, she was not able. I have done what I could, but nothing seems to count. She does not get well, and the gold doesn’t play much of a figure in this camp just now. One-third of the find is hers, and the same for Harris and me; but I’d give my share cheerfully this minute if it would buy back health for her and let me see her laughing and bright again.”

Lyster reached out his hand and gave Overton’s arm an affectionate pressure.

“Don’t I know it, Dan?” he asked kindly. “Can’t I see that you have just worked and worried yourself sick over her illness—blaming yourself, perhaps—”

“Yes, that is it—blaming myself for—many things,” he agreed, brokenly, and then he checked himself as Lyster’s curious glance was turned on him. “So you see I am in no fit condition to talk values with this Mr. Haydon. All my thoughts are somewhere else. Doctor says if she is not better to-night she will not get well. That means she will not live. Tell your friend that something worse than a gold crisis is here just now, and I can’t talk to him till it is over. Don’t mind if I’m even a bit careless with you, Max. Look after yourselves as well as you can. You are welcome—you know that; but—what’s the use of words? Perhaps ’Tana is dying!”

And turning his back abruptly on his friend, he walked away, while Lyster looked after him with some surprise.

“I seem to be dropped by everybody,” he remarked, “first Haydon and now Dan. But I don’t believe there is danger of her dying. I won’t believe it! Dan has 200 worried himself sick and fearful during these terrible days, but I’ll do my share now and let him get some rest and sleep. ’Tana die! I can’t think it. But I care ten times more for Dan, just because of his devotion to her. I wonder what he would think if he knew why I wanted her to go to school, or how much she was in my mind every hour I was gone. I felt like telling him just now, but better not—not yet. He thinks she is only a little child yet. Dear old Dan!”

He entered the cabin and spoke to Harris, whom he had not seen before, and who looked with pleasure at him, though, as ever, speechless and moveless, but for that nod of his head and the bright, quick glance of his eyes.

From him he went again to ’Tana; but she lay still and pale, with closed eyes and no longer muttering.

“There ain’t a blessed thing you can do, Mr. Max,” said Mrs. Huzzard, in a wheezing whisper; “but if there is, you may be sure I’ll let you know and glad to do it. Lavina says she’s going to help me to a rest; and you must help Dan Overton, for slept he has not, and I know it, these eight nights since I’ve been here. And if that ain’t enough to kill a man!”

“Sure enough. But now that I am here, we will not have any night watches on his part,” decided Lyster. “Between Miss Slocum and myself I think we can manage to do some very creditable nursing.”

“I am willing to do my best,” said Miss Lavina, with a shrinking glance toward Flap-Jacks, who just slouched past with a bucket of water; “but I must confess I do feel a timidity in the presence of these sly-looking Indians. And if at night I can only be sure none of them are very close, I may be able to watch this poor girl instead of watching for them with their tomahawks.” 201

“Never fear while I am detailed as guard,” answered Lyster, reassuringly. “They will reach you only over my dead body.”

“Oh, but—” and the timid one arose as if for instant flight, but was held by Mrs. Huzzard.

“Now, now!” she said reprovingly to the young fellow, “it’s noways good-natured of you to make us more scared of the dirty things than we are naturally. But, Lavina, I’ll go bail that he never yet has seen a dead body of their killing since he came in the country. Lord knows, they don’t look as if they would kill a sheep, though they might steal them fast enough. It ain’t from Dan Overton that you ever learned to scare women, Mr. Max; you wouldn’t catch him at such tricks.”

“Now I beg that whatever you do, Mrs. Huzzard, you will not compare me to that personage,” objected Lyster; “for I am convinced that anything human would in your eyes suffer by such a comparison. Great is Dan in the camp of the Kootenais!”

Mrs. Huzzard only laughed at his words, but Miss Lavina did not. She even let her eyes wander again to Akkomi, in order to show her disapproval of frivolous comment on Mr. Overton; a fact Lyster perceived and was immensely amused by.

“She has set her covetous maidenly eyes on him, and if she doesn’t marry him before the year is over, he will have to be clever,” he decided, as he left them and went to look up Haydon. “Serves Dan right if she did, for he never gives any other fellow half a chance with the old ladies. The rest of us have to be content with the young ones.”