Newspaper Page Text
THE FLOWERS COLLECTION
1
S^c Woman in the Alcove
Ji Story of Love and
Thrilling Interest
n
'% Bv ANNA CATHERINE %/EENE, Author of “The Millionaire Baby,” “The Filigree Ball,” Etc., Etc.
X ^ & -
Copyright by The Bobbs-Merrill Co.
VI.I.
cyr t 1 > 'bo outdone by the
editor, I Insert the article
here with all its detail.-,
he importance of which i
trust I have anticipated.
Santa Fe, X. M., April
.Arrived, in Santa Fo. 1
inquired where Abner
Fairbrother could he
found. I was told that ho
was at his mine, siclt.
Upon inquiring as to the
location of the Flacide, i.
was informed that it was
fifteen miles or so distant in the moun
tains, and upon my expressing an inten
tion of going there immediately, I was
given what I thought very unnecessary
advice and then directed to a certain
livery stable, whore I could get the right
kind of a horse and such equipment as i
stood in need of.
I thought I was equipped all right as
it was, but I said nothing and went on
to tiie livery stable. Here I was shown
a horse which l took to at once and was
about to •mount, when a pair of leggings
was brought to me.
“You will need these for your jour
ney,” said the man.
"Journey!" I repeated. “Fifteen miles!”
The livery stable keeper—a hall-breed
with peculiarly pleasant smile—cocked
up ids shoulders with the remark:
“Three men as willing but as inexpe
rienced as yourself (have attempted —>e
same journey during the last week and
they all came back before they reached
the divide. Yon will probably come
back, too: but I shall give you as fair
a. tart as if I knew you were going
straight through.”
“Bur. a woman has done it,” said 1;
• a nurse from the hospital went up that
very road last week.”
Oil, women! they can do anything—
• v .- • P Yt. ikoy
start off alone. You are going alone.”
"Yes." I remarked grimly. ".Newspaper
correspondents make their journeys sin
gly when they can.”
-Ohi you are it newspaper correspon
dent! Why do so many men from ttie
papers want to see that sick old man?
Because lie's so rich?”
“Don’t you know?” I asked.
He did not 3eem to.
! wondered at his ignorance, but did
not enlighten him.
“Follow the trail and ask your way
from time to time. All the goatherds
know where t.he Flacide mine is.”
riu t were his simple instructions as
l,e headed my horse toward the canyon.
1:iii as 1 drew off. no shouted out:
"ff you get stuck, leave it to the horse.
He knows more about It than you do. '
With a vague gesture toward the north
west, he turned away, leaving me in con
templation of the grandest scenery 1 had
yet come upon in all my travels.
Fifteen miles! but those miles lay
through Uio very heart of the mountains,
ranging anywheru from six to seven
thousand feet high. In ten minutes the
city and ail signs of city life were out
of sight, in live more 1 was seemingly
as lar removed from all civilization as
if I had gone a hundred miles into the
wilderness.
As my horse settled down to work,
picking his way, now here and now
there, sometimes over the in-own earth,
hard and baked as in a thousand fur
naces, and sometimes over the stunted
grass whose needlo-lik® stalks seemed
never to have known moisture, I let ray
eyes roam to such peaks as -were not
cut off from view by the nearer hill
sides, and wondered whether the snow
which capped them was whiter than
any other ••;• the blue of the sky bluer,
that tiie two together had the effect upon
me of cameo work on a huge and unap
proachable scale.
Bert-air,b the effect of these grand
mountains. Into which you leap without
any preparation front -the streets and
market places of America’s oldest city',
is such as is not easily described.
\Ye struck water now and then—nar
row water i-ourscs which my horse fol
lowed in mid stream, and, more inter
esting yet. goat herds with their flocks.
Mexicans a”, who seemed to understand
no English, l>ut were picturesque
enough, to Took at and a welcome break In
the extreme lores,oneness of tiie way.
J had licet) told that they would serve
me as guides if 1 felt at all doubtful of
the trail, and in one or two instances
they proved to be decided help. They
could gesticulate, if they could not speak
English, and when I tried them with
the one word Platide they would nod
anti point out which of the many side
canyons T was to follow. But they al-
ways looked up ns they did so. up. up,
•till T took ‘to looking up. too. and when,
after miles multiplied indefinitely by the
winding of tiie trail. I came out upon a
ledge from which a full view of the op
posite range could be had, and saw
fronting me, from tiie side of one of its
tremendous peaks, the gap of a vast nolo
not two hundred feet from tiie snow line.
T knew that, Inaces-fiLle as it looked. 1
was gazing up at 1b opening of Abner
Kalrhrother's new mine, tiie Flaehle.
The experience was a strange one. Tiie
two ranges approached so nearly that it
seemed as if a hall might lie tossed
from one to the other. But the chasm
between was stupendous. I grew dizzy
as T looked downward and saw the end
less zigzags yet to he traversed step by-
step before the bottom of tiie canyon
could be reached, and then the equally
interminable zigzags tip tiie acclivity ]>e-
ynnd. ail of which 1 must trace, still
step by step, before 1 could hope to ar
rive .c tne camp which, from where 1
stood, looked to bo almost within hall
of my voice.
J have described tiie mine as a hole.
That was ail 1 saw at first—a great;
black hole in the dark brown earth of
the mountain side, from which ran down
a still darker streak into the waste
places f-ar below it. But as I looked
longer I saw that it was faced by a
ledge out of the friable soil, on which 1
was now able to descry 'the pronounced
white of two or three tent-tops and
some other signs of life, encouraging
enough to tiie eye of one whose lot it
was to crawl, like a fly up that tre
mendous mountain side.
Truly I could understand why those
three men, probably newspaper corres
pondents like myself, had turned back
to Santa Fe, alter a glance from my
present outlook. But though I under
stood I did not mean to duplicate ,their
retreat.
The sight of those tents, the thought
of what one of them contained, Inspired
me with new courage, and releasing ray
grip upon the rein, I allowed my patient
horse to proceed.
Shortly after this 1 passed tiie divide—
that is where the water sheds both ways
—•then the descent began. I t was zigzag,
just as the climb had been, but I pre
ferred the climb, I did not have the
unfathomable spaces so constantly before
me, nor was my imagination so active.
It was fixed on heights >to he attained
rather than on valleys to roll onto, tiow-
ever. I did not roll.
The Mexican saddle held me se
curely at whatever angle I was poised,
and once the bottom m as reached 1 found
that 1 could face, with considerable
equanimity, the corresponding ascent.
Only, as I saw -how steep the climb bade
fair to -be, 1 did not see how 1 was
ever to come down again. Going up
was possible, but the descent—
However, as what goes up must in tiie
course of nature come down, 1 put this
question aside and gave my horse his
load, after encouraging him with a few
blades of grass, which he seemed to find
“Lillie '*1 <* I ;,r»y t : lOuix
and something of the feel of spun glass.
How we got there you must ask this
good animal, who took all tiie responsi
bility and did all the work. 1 merely
dung and balanced, and at times, when
he rounded tiie end of a zigzag, for in
stance, I even shut my eyes, though the
prospect was magnificent. At last even
his patience seemed to give out, and lie
stopped and trembled. But before I could
open ray eyes on the abyss beneath lie
made another effort. I felt the brush of
tree branches across my face, and, look
ing up, saw before me the lodge or plat
form dotted with tents, at which I had
looked with such longing from the oppo
site hillsides.
Simultaneously I heard voices, and saw
approaching a bronzed and bearded man
with strongly-marked Scotch features and
a determined air.
“The doctor!’- I involuntarily exclaimed,
with a glance at the small and curious
tent before which lie stood guard.
"Yes, the doctor.” he answered in un
expectedly good English. “And who are
you? Have you brought the mail and
liiose medicines I sent for?"
“No,” J replied with as propitiatory a
smile as 1 could muster up in face of
Jiis brusk forbidding expression. “I came
on my own errand. I am a representative
of the New York , and f hope you
will not deny me a word with Mr. Fair-
brother.”
With a gesture I hardly knew how to
interpret he took my horse by tiie rein
and led us on a few steps toward an
other large tent, where lie motioned me
to descend. Then he laid his hand on
my shou-lder and, foreing me to meet
his eye, said:
“You have made this journey—I believe
you said from New York to see Mr.
Fail-brother. Why?”
“Because Mr. Fairbrother js at present
tiie most sought-for man in America,”
I returned boldly. “His wife—you know
about his wife—”
"No. How should I know about his
wife? 1 know what his temperature is
and what his respiration is——but his
wife? What about his wife? He don’t
know anything about her now himself;
lie is not allowed to read letters.”
“But you read tiie papers. You must
have known, before you left Santa Fc,
of Mrs. Falrbrotlier’s foul and most mys
terious murder in New York. It lias
been tlic theme of two continents for the
last ten days.”
He shrugged Ills shoulders, which might,
mean anything, anil confined his reply
to a repetition of my own words.
“.Mrs. Fairbrother murdered!” he ex
claimed, but in a suppressed voice, to
which point was given liy tiie cautious
look lie cast behind him at the tent which
had drawn my attention. “He must not
know it. man. I could not answer for his
life if lie received the least shock in his
present critical condition. Murdered?
"When?”
“Ten days ago, at a hall in New York.
Tt was alter Mr. Fairbrother left the
city. He was expected to return, after
hearing the news, but lie seems to have
kept straight on to his destination-. He
was not very fond of his wife—that is.
they have not been living together for
the last year. But he could not help
feeling the shock of her death which lie
must have heard of somewhere along tiie
route.”
“He lias said nothing in his delirium to
show that lie knew it. It is possible,
just possible, that he didn't read the pa
pers. He could not have been well for
days before ho reached Santa Fe. - ’
“When were you called in to attend
him?"
"The very night after he reached this
place. It was thought lie wouldn't live
to reach tiie camp. But lie is a man of
great pluck. He held up till his foot
touched this platform. Then he suc
cumbed.”
“If he was as si- < as that,” I muttered,
”wliy did he leave Santa Fe? He must
have known what it would mean to be
sick here.”
“I don’t think lie did. This is
his first visit to the mine. He
evidently knew nothing of the difficulties
of the road. But lie would not stop.
He was determined to reach the camp,
even after he had been given a sight
of it from the opposite mountain. He
told them that he had once crossed the
Sierras in midwinter. But he wasn l
a sick man then.”
"Doctor, they don’t know who killed
his wife.”
’He didn’t.”
“1 gnow, but under such ’circum
stances every fact bearing on tiie event
is of immense importance. There is
one which Mr. Fairbrother only can
make clear. It can be said in a word—”
The grim doctor’s eye flashed angri
ly and I stopped.
“Were you a detective from the dis
trict attorney’s office in New York,
sent on with special powers to exam
ine him, I should still sa.4 what I am
going to say now. Wb ! c Mr. Fair-
brother’s temperature and pulse re
main where they now are, no one shall
see him and no one shall talk to him
save myself and his nurse.”
I turned with a sick look of disap
pointment toward the road up which
I had so lately come.
“Have I panted, sweltered, trembled,
for three mortal hours on the worst
trail a man ever traversed to go back
with nothing for my journey? That
seems to me hard lines. Where is the
manager of this mine?”
The doctor pointed toward a man
bending over the edge of the great
hole from which, at that moment, a
line of Mexicans was issuing, eaclt
with a sack on Ills back which lie flung
down before what looked like a fur
nace built of clay.
"That’s lie Mr. Hallies, of ’ ‘
dclpl ia. What" do ycru want of ,\W
“Permission to stay the night. Mr.
Fairbrother may he better tomorrow."
“I won’t allow it. and I am master
here, so far as my patient is concerned.
You couldn’t stay here without talk
ing, and talking makes excitement,
and excitement is just what lie can not
stand. A week from now I will see
about it—that is. if my patient con
tinues to improve. I am not stire that
lie will.”
“Let me spend that week here. I'll
not talk any more than the dead.
Maybe tiie manager will let me carry
sacks."
“Look here,” said the doctor, edging
me farther and farther away from
tent lie hardly let out of his sight for
a moment. ’’You're a canny lad. and
shall have your bite and something to
drink before you take your way back.
But back you go before sunset and
with tliis message: No man from any
paper north or south will be received
here till 1 hang out a blue flag. I
say blue, for that is tiie eolor of ray
bandana. When my patient is in a
condition to discuss murder I'll hoist
it from his tent top. It can be seen
from the divide, and if you want to
camp there on tiie lookout, well and
good. As for the police, tiiat’s another
matter. 1 will see them if they come,
but they need not expect to talk to
my patient. You may say so down
there. It will save scrambling tip this
trail to no purpose.”
“You may count on me.” said I;
“trust a New York correspondent to
do the right tiling at the right time
to head off Hie boys. But I doubt if
they will believe me.”
In that case I shall have a barri
cade thrown up 50 feet down the moun
tain side,” said lie.
"But the mail and your supplies?”
“Oli, the burros can make their way
up. We shan’t suffer.”
“You are certainly master,” I re
marked.
Ail this time I had been using my
eves. There was not much to see,
but what tiierc was was romantically
interesting. Aside from the furnace
and wliat was going op there, there
was little else but a sleeping tent, a
cooking tent, and the small one I had
come on first, which, without the least
doubt, contained the sick man. This
last tent, was of a peculiar construc
tion and showed tiie primitive nature
of everything at tliis height. It con
sisted simply of a cloth thrown' over
a thing like a trapeze. This doth did
not even come to the ground on ei'hor
side. but stopped short a foot c? so
from the flat mound of adobe which
serves as a base or floor for liut or
tent in New Mexico. The rear of the
simple tent abutted on t!;e mountian
side; the opening was toward tiie val
ley. 1 felt an intense desire to look
into this opening—so intense that I
thought I would venture on an attempt
to gratify it. Scrutinizing the resolute
face of t he man -before me and flattering
myself that T detected signs of humor
underlying his professional bruskness, T
asked, somewhat mournfully, if he would
let me go away without so much as a
glance at tiie man I had come po far
to see. "A glimpse would satisfy me
now." I assured him, as the hint of a
twinkle flashed in his eye. “Surely there
will lie no harm in that. I’ll take it in
stead of supper."
Ho smiled, but not encouragingly, and
T was feeling very despondent, indeed,
when the canvas on which our eyes
were fixed suddenly shook and the calm
figure oT a woman stepped out before
ns. clad in the simplest garb, but show
ing in every line of face and form a.
character of minded kindness anil
shrewdness. Site was evidently on tiie
lookout for tiie doctor, for she made a
sign as sue saw mm a.id returned m-
Btduatly into the -tent.
"Mr. Fairbrother has just fallen
asleep," he explained. “It isn't discipline
and I shall have to apologize to Miss
Berra, but if you will promise not to
speak nor make the least disturbance
1 will let you take tiie one peep you pre
fer to supper.”
“I promise,” said I.
Leading the way to the opening, he
whispered a word to tiie nurse, then
motioned to me to look in. The sight
was a simple one, lint to me very impres
sive. Tiie owner of palaces, a man
to 'Whom millions were as thousands to
such poor devils as myself, lay on an
improvised bed of evergreens, wrapped
hi a horse blanket and witli nothing
better than another of these rolled up
under his head. At his side sat his
nurse on what looked like tiie uneven
stump of a tree. Close to her hand was
a tolerably flat stone, on which I saw
arranged a number of bottles and such
other comforts as were absolutely neces
sary to a. proper care of the sufferer.
That was all. In these few words I
have told ithe whole story. To be sure,
this simple tent, perched seven thousand
feet and more above sea-level, had one
advantage which even ills great house in
Now York could not offer. This was
tiie outlook. Lying as lie did facing tiie
valley, lie had only to open his eyes to
catch a full view of tiie panorama of
sky and mountain stretched out before
him. Jt was glorious; whether seen at
morning, noon or night, glorious. But I
doubt if he would not gladly have ex
changed it for a sight of his home walls.
As T started to go, a stir took place in
lie blanket wrapped about his chin,
and I caught a glimpse of tiie iron-gray
head and hollow cheeks of the great,
financier. He was a very sick man.
Even I could see that. Had T obtained
tie permission T sought and been allow
ed to ask him one of the many questions
burning on my tongue, 1 should have
received only delirium for reply. There
was no reaching that clouded intelligence
now. and I felt grateful to the doctor
nil- rC,’. luring tne of it.
i told him so and thanked him quite
warmly when we were well away from
tiie tent, and his answer was almost
kindly, though he made no effort to hide
his impatience and anxiety 'to see me
go. The looks he cast at tiie sun were
significant, and, having no wish to an-
tagoni-o him and every wisli to visit
tiie spot again. I moved toward my
horse with the Intention of untying
him.
To my surprise the doctor held me
: m ■-
said he, “vour
down and
ledge hung.
The ex
refrain. 1
“You c-an't. go tonight,
horse lias hurt himself.”
It was true. There was something the
matter witli -tiie animal’s left forefoot.
As tiie doctor lifted it. the manager
• ante up. lie agreed with the doctor.
1 could not make tiie descent to Santa
Fe on that horse that night. Did 1 feel
elated? Ratherr 1 liad no wish to de-
send. Yet 1 was far from foreseeing
what tiie night was to bring me.
T was turned over to tiie manager, but
not without a final injunction front the
doctor. “Noit a word to any one about
your errand! Not a word about the
New York tragedy, as you value Mr.
Fai r b ro t h er' s 1: fe. ”
"Not a word,” said I.
. Then lie left me.
To see -tiie sun go
the moon come up from a
ns it were, in mid air!
perience was novel—but f
iiaev more important matters to relate.
I was given a bunk at tiie extreme end
of tiie long sleeping tent, and turned m
with the rest. [ expected to sleep, but
011 finding that T could eatcli a sight of
the sick tent from under the canvas, T
experienced such fascination in watching
this forbidden spot tHat midnight cam.
lielore 1 itad closed my eyes. Then all
desire to sleep left, me, for the patient,
began moan and presently to talk, and.
the stillness of the solitary height being
something abnormal, I could sometimes
catch tiie very words. Devoid as they
were of all rational meaning, they ex
cited my curiosity to the burning point;
for who could tell if lie might not say
something bearing on the mystery?
But that feverish mind itad recurred
to early scenes and the babble which
came to my ears was all of mining
camps in the Hookies and the dicker of
horses. Perhaps the uneasy movement
of my horse pulling at tiie end of his
tether itad disturbed him. Perhaps—
But at the inner utterance of tiie sec
ond “perhaps” I 1’otind myself up on :n\-
elbow listening with all my ears, and
staring with wide-stretched eyes at the
thicket of stunted trees where the road
debouched on the platform. Something
was astir there beside my horse. I
could catch sounds of an unmistakable
nature. A rider was coming up the
trail.
Slipping back into my place, T turned
toward the doctor, who lay some two or
three hunks nearer the opening. Tie had
started tip, too, and in a moment was
out of tiie tent. I do not think lie had
observed my action, for it was very-
dark where I lay and his back had been
turned toward me. As for the others,
they- slept like tiie dead, only they made
more noise.
Interested—everything is interesting at
such a height—I brought iny r eye to bear
on the ledge, and soon saw by the limpid
light of a full moon the stiff, short
branches of the trees, on which ray gaze
was tixed. give way to an advancing
horse and rider.
"Halloo!” saluted Hie doctor in a whis
per. which was in itself a warning. ”Easy
there! We have sickness in this camp
and it’s a lato hour for visitors.”
“I know.”
Tiie answer was subdued, but earnest.
“I’m the magistrate of this district. I’ve
a question to ask tliis sick man, on be-
•• • m ••• • •• • • -c- • a .o • a ••• *» •©• a a ••• i
half of the New York chief of police, who
is a personal friend of mine. It is con
nected with—”
“Hush!”
The doctor had seized him by the arm
and turned his face away from tiie sick
tent. Then the two heads came together
and ari argument began.
T could not hear a word of it, but their
motions were eloquent. My- sympathy
was with the magistrate, of course, and I
watched eagerly while he passed a letter
over to the doctor, who vainly strove to
read it by the light of tiie moon. Finding
this impossible, he was about to return it,
when the other struck a match aI| d lit a
lantern hanging from tiie horn of his
saddle. The two heads came together
again, but us quickly separated with
every appearance of irreconcilement, and
I was settling back with sensations of
great disappointment, when a sound fell
on i he night so unexpectedly to all con
cerned that with a common impulse each
eye sought the sick tent.
“Water! will some one give me water?”
a voice had cried, quietly -and with none
of tiie delirium which had hitherto ren
dered it unnatural.
The doctor started for the tent. There
was the quickness of surprise in his move
ment and the gesture he made to the
magistrate, as he passed in, reawakened
an expectation in my breast which made
me doubly watchful.
Providence was intervening in our fa
vor, and I was not surprised to see him
presently reissue with the nurse, whom
he drew into the shadow of the trees,
where they had a short conference, if
she returned alone into the tent after
this conference T should know that the
matter was at an end and that the doc
tor had decided to maintain his author
ity’ against that of tiie magistrate.
But she remained outside and the
magistrate was invited to join their
1 euncil; when they again left the shad
ow of the trees it was to approach the
t* r,t.
The magistrate, who was in the rear,
could not have more than passed tiie
i | - rung, o ,t i -.nougat linn far enough
inside not to detect any movement on
111-.- part, so T took advantage of the sit-
r.tion to worm myself out of my cor
ner and across the lodge to where thee
ti at made a shadow in the moonlight.
Crouching close, and laying my ear
against the canvas, T listened.
The nurse was speaking in a gently
persuasive tone. 1 Imagined her kneel
ing by the head of the ipattent and
breathing words into his ear. These
re iwliat I heard:
“You love diamonds. T have often no-
t eed that: you look so long at the ring
i your hand. That is why I have !et
i‘. stay titeie, though at times I have
arcq it would drop off and roll awav
• ver tiie adobe down the mountain side.
Was I right?”
“Yes, yes.” The words came with dif
ficulty. hut they were clear enough.
“It’s of small valve, r like it because—’
lie appeared to be too weak to finish.
A pause, during which sue seemed to
edge nearer to him.
“We all have some pet keepsake," said
she. “But T should never have supposed
t .its stone of yours an inexpensive one
I lit I forgot that you are the owner of
, very large and remarkable diamoni.
a diamond that is spoken of sometimes
in tiie ipapers. Of course, if you have
a gem like that, this one must appear
very small and valueless to yotn.”
“Yes, this is nothing, nothing.' And
ie apepared t<> turn away his head.
“Mr. Fairbrother! Pardon me, but I
fitant to tell you something about that
big diamond of yours. You have been
111 and have not been able to read your
Liters, so do not know that your wife
has had some trouble with that dia
mond. People have said that it is not a
rial stone, but a. well-executed Imita
tion. May T write to her that tliis is a
mistake, that" it Is all you have ever
i laimed for It—that is, an unusually
large diamond, of the first water?"
1 listened In amazement. Surely, this
was an insidious way to get at the
truth—a woman's way. but who would
rnv it was not a wise one, the wisest,
perhaps, which could be taken under Hie
circumstances? What would his reply
be? Would it show that lie was as ig
norant of his wife’s death as was gon-
mally believed, both by those about him
here and those who knew him well in
New York? Or Would the question
convey nothinsr further to him than the
doubt—in itself an insult—of tiie genuine
ness of that great stone which had been
his pride?
A murmur—that was all it could be
called—broke from his fever-dried lies
and died away in an inarticulate gasp.
Then, suddenly, sharply, a cry brute
from him. an intelligible cry, and tie
heard hint say:
“No imitation! no imitation! It was a
sun! a glory! No other like it! It lit ‘lie
n.r! it blazed, it burned; I see it now.'
1 see—’ ’
There the passion succumbed, the
strength 'failed; another murmur, nn-
c- her. and the ,great void of night which
stretched over—I might almost say un
der us—was no more quiet or seemingly
impenetrable than Hie silence of that
noon-enveloped tent
Would he s.-pcak again? I did not think
so. Would she even try to make him?
1 diq not think this, either. But I did
i o' know the woman.
Softly her voice rose again. There was
a dominating insistence in Iter tones,
gentle as they were; tiie insistence of a
realthy mind which seeks to control a
weakened one.
"You do not know of ans - imitation,
then? It. was the real stone you. gave
let-. You are sure of it; yStt would be
«*••• A A C ••• t *9* 3 ••• A ••••>•••♦©* A *•••*©• O
ic-ady to swear to it if—say just yes or
i-o,” she finished In gentle urgency.
Evidently ho was sinking again into
I t consciousness, and she was just hold
ing him back long enougn for the neces-
tary word.
It came slowly and with a dragging
intonutlon, but there w>.3 no mistaking
the ring of truth with which he spoke.
"Yes,” said he.
When I heard the doctor's voice
and felt a movement in the
canvas against which I leaned,
I took the warning and stole back hur
riedly to my quarters.
I was scarcely settled, when the same
group of three I Itad before watched
silhouetted itself again against the moon
light. There was some talk, a mingling
and separating of shadows; then the
nurse glided hack to her duties and the
two men went toward the c-lump of trees
where the horse had been tethered.
Ten minutes and the doctor was back
in his bunk. Was it imagination, or did
I feel his hand on my shoulder 'before
he finally lay down and composed him
self to sleep? 1 can not say; 1 only
know that I gave no sign, and that soon
all stir ceased in his direction and I
was left to enjoy my triumph and to
listen with envious interest to the strange
and unintelligible sounds which accom
panied the descent of the horseman down
tiie face of the cliff, and finally to watch
with a fascination, which drew me to
my knees, tin passage of that sparkling
itar of light hanging from his saddle.
It crept to and fro across the side of
the opposite mountain as he threaded
its endless zigzags and finally disap
peared over tiie brow into the invisible
canyons beyond.
With the disappearance of this beacon
came lassitude and sleep, through whose
hazy atmosphere floated wild sentences
from the sick tent, which showed that
tiie patient was back again in Nevada,
quarreling over the price of a horse
which was to carry him beyond the
re-ich o’* s"me 11 1ri-’ten’-iv “’-aiaitcl ie.
When next morning I came to depart,
Hie doctor took me by both hands and
looked me straight in the eyes.
"You heard,” he said.
“How do you know?” I asked.
‘I can tell a satisfied man when I see
him,” he growled, throwing down my
hands with tiiat same humorous twinkle
in his eyes which had encouraged me
from the first.
I made no answer, but X shall remem
ber the lesson.
One detail more. When I started on
my own descent I found why the leg
gings, with which I iiad been provided,
were so indispensable. T was not al
lowed to ride; indeed, riding down those
riteep declivities was impossible. No
horse could preserve his balance with a
rider on his hack. T slid, so did my
horse, and only in the valley beneath
did we come together again.
VIJJ.
ARREST.
The success of this interview provoked
other attempts on the part of the re
porters who now flocked into tiie south
west. EYe long particulars began to
pour in of Mr. Fairbrother's 'painful
journey south, after ids illness set in.
The clerk of the hotel in El Moro,
where the mine owner's name was found
registered at the time of tiie murder,
told a story which made very good read
ing for those who were more interested
in the sufferings and experiences of the
millionaire husband of tiie murdered lady
than in those of Hie unhappy but com
paratively insignificant man upon whom
public opinion had cast the odium of
her death.
It seems that when the first news cante
of tiie great crime which had taken place
in New York. Mr. Fail-brother was ab
sent from tiie hotel on a prospecting
tour through the adjacent mountains.
Couriers had been sent after him, and
it was one of these who finally brought
•him into town. He had been found wan
dering alone on horseback among the de
files of an untraveled region, sick anfl al
most incoherent from fever. Jndeed, his
condition was such that neither the cour
ier nor such others as saw him had the
heart to toil him the dreadful news from
New York, or even to show him the pa
pers. To their great relief, he betrayed
no curiosity in them. All lie wanted was
a. berth iu tihe first train going south,
and this was an easy way for them out
of a great responsibility. They listened
to his wishes and saw him safely aboard,
with such alacrity and with so many pre
cautions against his Vicing disturbed tiiat
they have never doubted that he left
El Moro In total ignorance, not only ot
tine circumstances of his great 'bereave
ment. but of the bereavement itself.
This ignorance, which he appeared to
have carried with him to the Flacide,
was regarded by those who knew him
best as proving the truth of the affirma
tion elicited from him in aite pauses
his delirium of the genuineness o”
stone which had passed from lr
to those of ids wife at the ti-
separation; and, further do
ing in. some private a-
hut all insisting upc
would 11-3 weeks v
a condition to -
animation o’
authentic
no lor
cee ’
de.
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