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CHAPTER XI
THE STINGING LIZARD

In a certain stratum of society, now about to become extinct, it is considered quite au fait to roll a drunk if circumstances will permit. And it was from this particular stratum that the barkeeper at The Mint had derived his moral concepts. Therefore he considered it no crime, no betrayal of a trust, to borrow the thousand dollars with which he was to pay John C. Calhoun from that prince of opportunists, Judson Eells. It is not every banker that will thrust a thousand dollar bill–and the only one he has on hand–upon a member of the bungstarters’ brotherhood; but a word in his ear from Pisen-face Lynch convinced Fellowes that it would be well to run straight. Fate had snatched him from behind the bar to carry out a part not unconnected with certain schemes of Judson Eells and any tendency to run out on his trusting backers would be visited with summary punishment. At least that was what he gathered in the brief moment they had together before Lynch gave him the money and disappeared.

As for John C. Calhoun, a close student of inebriety might have noticed that he became sober too quick; but he invested their departure in such a wealth of mystery that the barkeeper was more than satisfied. A short ways out of town Wunpost turned out into the rocks and milled around for an hour; and then, when their trail was hopelessly lost, he led the way into the hills. Being a stranger in the country Fellowes could not say what wash it was, but they passed up some wash and from that into another one; and so on until he was lost; and the most he could do was to drop a few white beans from the pocketful that Lynch had provided. The night was very dark and they rode on interminably, camping at dawn in a shut-in canyon; and so on for three nights until his mind became a blank as far as direction was concerned. His liberal supply of beans had been exhausted the first night and since then they had passed over a hundred rocky hog-backs and down a thousand boulder-strewn canyons. As to the whereabouts of Blackwater he had no more idea than a cat that has been carried in a bag; and he lacked that intimate sense of direction which often enables the cat to come back. He was lost, and a little scared, when Wunpost stopped in a gulch and showed him a neat pile of rocks.

“There’s my monument,” he said, “ain’t that a neat piece of work? I learned how to make them from a surveyor. This tobacco can here contains my notice of location–that was a steer when I said it wasn’t staked. Git down and help yourself!”

He assisted his companion, who was slightly saddle-sore, to alight and inspect the monument and then he waited expectantly.

“Oh, the mine! The mine!” cried Wunpost gaily. “Come along–have you got your sack? Well, bring along a sack and we’ll fill it so full of gold it’ll bust and spill out going home. Be a nice way to mark the trail, if you should want to come back sometime–and by the way, have you got that thousand dollar bill?”

“Yes, I’ve got it,” whined the barkeeper, “but where’s your cussed mine? This don’t look like nothing to me!”

“No, that’s it,” expounded Wunpost, “you haven’t got my system–they’s no use for you to turn prospector. Now look in this crack–notice that stuff up and down there? Well, now, that’s where I’d look to find gold.”

“Jee-rusalem!” exclaimed the barkeeper, or words to that effect, and dropped down to dig out the rock. It was the very same ore that Wunpost had shown when he had entered The Mint at Blackwater, only some of it was actually richer than any of the pieces he had seen. And there was a six-inch streak of it, running down into the country-rock as if it were going to China. He dug and dug again while Wunpost, all unmindful, unpacked and cooked a good meal. Fellowes filled his small sack and all his pockets and wrapped up the rest in his handkerchief; and before they packed to go he borrowed the dish-towel and went back for a last hoard of gold. It was there for the taking, and he could have all he wanted as long as he turned over the thousand dollar bill. Wunpost was insistent upon this and as they prepared to start he accepted it as payment in full.

“That’s my idea of money!” he exclaimed admiringly as he smoothed the silken note across his knee. “A thousand dollar bill, and you could hide it inside your ear–say, wait till I pull that in Los! I’ll walk up to the bar in my old, raggedy clothes and if the barkeep makes any cracks about paying in advance I’ll just drop that down on the mahogany. That’ll learn him, by grab, to keep a civil tongue in his head and to say Mister when he’s speaking to a gentleman.”

He grinned at the Judas that he had taken to his bosom but Fellowes did not respond. He was haunted by a fear that the simple-minded Wunpost might ask him where he got that big bill, since it is rather out of the ordinary for even a barkeeper to have that much money in his clothes; but the simple-minded Wunpost was playing a game of his own and he asked no embarrassing questions. It was taken for granted that they were both gentlemen of integrity, each playing his own system to win, and the barkeeper’s nervous fear that the joker would pop up somewhere found no justification in fact. He had his gold, all he could carry of it, and Wunpost had his thousand dollar bill, and now nothing remained to hope for but a quick trip home and a speedy deliverance from his misery.

“Say, for cripes’ sake,” he wailed, “ain’t they any short-cut home? I’m so lame I can hardly walk.”

“Well, there is,” admitted Wunpost, “I could have you home by morning. But you might take to dropping that gold, like you did them Boston beans, and I’d come back to find my mine jumped.”

“Oh, I won’t drop no gold!” protested Fellowes earnestly, “and them beans was just for a joke. Always read about it, you know, in these here lost treasure stories; but shucks, I didn’t mean no harm!”

“No,” nodded Wunpost, “if I’d thought you did I’d have ditched you, back there in the rocks. But I’ll tell you what I will do–you let me keep you blindfolded and I’ll get you out of here quick.”

“You’re on!” agreed Fellowes and Wunpost whipped out his handkerchief and bound it across his whole face. They rode on interminably, but it was always down hill and the sagacious Mr. Fellowes even noted a deep gorge through which water was rushing in a torrent. Shortly after they passed through it he heard a rooster crow and caught the fragrance of hay and not long after that they were out on the level where he could smell the rank odor of the creosote. Just at daylight they rode into Blackwater from the south, for Wunpost was still playing the game, and half an hour later every prospector was out, ostensibly hunting for his burros. But Wunpost’s work was done, he turned his animals into the corral and retired for some much-needed sleep; and when he awoke the barkeeper was gone, along with everybody else in town.

The stampede was to the north and then up Jail Canyon, where there was the only hay ranch for miles; and then up the gorge and on almost to Panamint, where the tracks turned off up Woodpecker Canyon. They were back-tracking of course, for the tracks really came down it, but before the sun had set Wunpost’s monument was discovered, together with the vein of gold. It was astounding, incredible, after all his early efforts, that he should let them back-track him to his mine; but that was what he had done and Pisen-face Lynch was not slow to take possession of the treasure. There was no looting of the paystreak as there had been at the Willie Meena, a guard was put over it forthwith; and after he had taken a few samples from the vein Lynch returned on the gallop to Blackwater.

The great question now with Eells was how Wunpost would take it, but after hearing from his scouts that the prospector was calm he summoned him to his office. It seemed too good to be true, but so it had seemed before when Calhoun had given up the Wunpost and the Willie Meena; and when Lynch brought him in Eells was more than pleased to see that his victim was almost smiling.

“Well, followed me up again, eh?” he observed sententiously, and Eells inclined his head.

“Yes,” he said, “Mr. Lynch followed your trail and–well, we have already taken possession of the mine.”

“Under the contract?” inquired Wunpost and when Eells assented Wunpost shut his lips down grimly. “Good!” he said, “now I’ve got you where I want you. We’re partners, ain’t that it, under our contract? And you don’t give a whoop for justice or nothing as long as you get it all! Well, you’ll get it, Mr. Eells–do you recognize this thousand dollar bill? That was given to me by a barkeep named Fellowes, but of course he received it from you. I knowed where he got it, and I knowed what he was up to–I ain’t quite as easy as I look–and now I’m going to take it and give it to a lawyer, and start in to get my rights. Yes, I’ve got some rights, too–never thought of that, did ye–and I’m going to demand ’em all! I’m going to go to this lawyer and put this bill in his hand and tell him to git me my rights! Not part of ’em, not nine tenths of ’em–I want ’em all– and by grab, I’m going to get’em!”

He struck the mahogany table a resounding whack and Eells jumped and glanced warningly at Lynch.

“I’m going to call for a receiver, or whatever you call him, to look after my interests at the mine; and if the judge won’t appoint him I’m going to have you summoned to bring the Wunpost books into court. And I’m going to prove by those books that you robbed me of my interest and never made any proper accounting; and then, by grab, he’ll have to appoint him, and I’ll get all that’s coming to me, and you’ll get what’s coming to you. You’ll be shown up for what you are, a low-down, sneaking thief that would steal the pennies from a blind man; you’ll be showed up right, you and your sure-thing contract, and you’ll get a little publicity! I’ll just give this to the press, along with some four-bit cigars and the drinks all around for the boys, and we’ll just see where you stand when you get your next rating from Bradstreet–I’ll put your tin-front bank on the bum! And then I’ll say to my lawyer, and he’s a slippery son-of-a-goat: ‘Go to it and see how much you can get–and for every dollar you collect, by hook, crook or book, I’ll give you back a half of it! Sue Eells for an accounting every time he ships a brick–make him pay back what he stole on the Wunpost–give him fits over the Willie Meena–and if a half ain’t enough, send him broke and you can have it all! Do you reckon I’ll get some results?”

He asked this last softly, bowing his bristling head to where he could look Judson Eells in the eye, and the oppressor of the poor took counsel. Undoubtedly he would get certain results, some of which were very unpleasant to contemplate, but behind it all he felt something yet to come, some counter-proposal involving peace. For no man starts out by laying his cards on the table unless he has an ace in the hole–or unless he is running a bluff. And he knew, and Wunpost knew, that the thing which irked him most was that sure-fire Prospector’s Contract. There Eells had the high card and if he played his hand well he might tame this impassioned young orator. His lawyer was not yet retained, none of the suits had been brought, and perhaps they never would be brought. Yet undoubtedly Wunpost had consulted some attorney.

“Why–yes,” admitted Eells, “I’m quite sure you’d get results–but whether they would be the results you anticipate is quite another question. I have a lawyer of my own, quite a competent man and one in whom I can trust, and if it comes to a suit there’s one thing you can’t break and that is your Prospector’s Contract.”

He paused and over Wunpost’s scowling face there flashed a twinge that betrayed him–Judson Eells had read his inner thought.

“Well, anyhow,” he blustered, “I’ll deal you so much misery─”

“Not necessary, not necessary,” put in Judson Eells mildly, “I’m willing to meet you half way. What is it you want now, and if it’s anything reasonable I’ll be glad to consider a settlement. Litigation is expensive–it takes time and it takes money–and I’m willing to do what is right.”

“Well, gimme back that contract!” blurted out Wunpost desperately, “and you can keep your doggoned mine. But if you don’t by grab I’ll fight you!”

“No, I can’t do that,” replied Eells regretfully, “and I’ll tell you, Mr. Calhoun, why. You’re just one of forty-odd men that have signed those Prospector’s Contracts, and there’s a certain principle involved. I paid out thirty thousand dollars before I got back a nickel and I can’t afford to establish a precedent. If I let you buy out, they will all want to buy out–that is, if they’ve happened to find a mine–and the result will be that there’ll be trouble and litigation every time I claim my rights. When you were wasting my grubstake I never said a word, because that, in a way, was your privilege; and now that, for some reason, you are stumbling onto mines, you ought to recognize my rights. It is a part of my policy, as laid down from the first, under no circumstances to ever release anybody; otherwise some dishonest prospector might be tempted to conceal his find in the hope of getting title to it later. But now about this mine, which you have named The Stinging Lizard–what would be your top price for cash?”

“I want that contract,” returned Wunpost doggedly but Judson Eells shook his head.

“How about ten thousand dollars?” suggested Eells at last, “for a quit-claim on the Stinging Lizard Mine?”

“Nothing doing!” flashed back Wunpost, “I don’t sign no quit-claim–nor no other paper, for that matter. You might have it treated with invisible ink, or write something else in, up above. But–aw cripes, dang these lawyers, I don’t want to monkey around–gimme a hundred thousand dollars and she’s yours.”

“The Stinging Lizard?” inquired Eells and wrote it absently on his blotter at which Wunpost began to sweat.

“I don’t sign nothing!” he reminded him, and Eells smiled indulgently.

“Very well, you can acknowledge it before witnesses.”

“No, I don’t acknowledge nothing!” insisted Wunpost stubbornly, “and you’ve got to put the money in my hand. How about fifty thousand dollars and make it all cash, and I’ll agree to get out of town.”

“No-o, I haven’t that much on hand at this time,” observed Judson Eells, frowning thoughtfully. “I might give you a draft on Los Angeles.”

“No–cash!” challenged Wunpost, “how much have you got? Count it over and make me an offer–I want to get out of this town.” He muttered uneasily and paced up and down while Judson Eells, with ponderous surety, opened up the chilled steel vault. He ran through bundles and neat packages, totting up as he went, and then with a face as frozen as a stone he came out with the currency in his hands.

“I’ve got twenty thousand dollars that I suppose I can spare,” he began as he spread out the money, but Wunpost cut him short.

“I’ll take it,” he said, “and you can have the Stinging Lizard–but my word’s all the quit claim you get!”

He stuffed the money into his pockets without stopping to count it, more like a burglar than a seller of mines, and that night while the town gathered to gaze on in wonder he took the stage for Los Angeles. No one shouted good-by and he did not look back, but as they pulled out of Blackwater he smiled.

CHAPTER XII
BACK HOME

The dry heat of July gave way to the muggy heat of August and as the September storms began to gather along the summits Wunpost Calhoun returned to his own. It was his own country, after all, this land of desert spaces and jagged mountains reared up again the sky; and he came back in style, riding a big, round-bellied mule and leading another one packed. He had a rifle under his knee, a pistol on his hip and a pair of field glasses in a case on the horn; and he rode in on a trot, looking about with a knowing smile that changed suddenly to a smirk of triumph.

“Well, well!” he exclaimed as he saw Eells emerge from the bank, “how’s the mine, Mr. Eells; how’s the mine?”

And Judson Eells, who had rushed out at the rumor of his approach, drew up his lip and glared at him hatefully.

“You’re a criminal!” he bellowed, “I could have you jailed for this–that Stinging Lizard mine was salted!”

“The hell you say!” shrilled Wunpost and then he laughed uproariously while he did a little jig in his stirrups. “Yeee–hoo!” he yelled, “say, that’s pretty good! Have you any idee who done it?”

“You did it!” answered Eells, “and I could have you arrested for it, only I don’t want to have any trouble. But you agreed to leave town and now I see you’re back–what’s the meaning of this, Mr. Calhoun?”

“Too slow inside,” complained Mr. Calhoun, who was sporting a brand-new outfit, “so I thought I’d come back and shake hands with my friends and take another look at my mine. Costs money to live in Los Angeles and I bought me a dog–looky here, cost me eight hundred dollars!”

He reached down into a nest which he had hollowed out of the pack and held up a wilted fox terrier, and as Eells stood speechless he dropped it back into its cubby-hole and laid a loving hand on the mule.

“How’s this for a mule?” he enquired ingenuously, “cost me five hundred dollars in Barstow. Fastest walker in the West–picked him out on purpose–and my pack mule can carry four hundred. How much did you lose on the Stinging Lizard?”

“I lost over thirty thousand dollars, with the road work and all,” answered Eells with ponderous exactitude, and Wunpost laughed again.

“Thirty thousand!” he echoed. “I wish it was a million! But you can’t say that I didn’t warn you!”

“Warn me!” raged Eells, “you did nothing of the kind. It was a deliberate attempt to defraud me.”

“Aw, cripes,” scoffed Wunpost, “you can’t win all the time–why don’t you take your medicine like a sport? Didn’t I name the danged hole The Stinging Lizard? Well, there was your warning–but you got stung!”

He laughed heartily at the joke and looked up the street, ignoring the staring crowd.

“Well, got to go!” he said. “Where is that road you built–like to go up and take a look at it!”

“It extends up Jail Canyon,” returned the banker grimly. “I understand Mr. Campbell is using it.”

“Pretty work!” exclaimed Wunpost, “won’t be wasted, anyhow. That’ll come in right handy for Cole. Why didn’t you buy the old hassayamper out?”

“He won’t sell!” grumbled Eells, “say, come in here a minute–I’ve got something I want to talk over.”

He led the way into his inner office, where an electric fan was running, and Wunpost took off his big, black hat to loll before the breeze.

“Pretty nice,” he pronounced, “they’ve got lots of ’em in Los. But I never suffered so much from heat in my life–the poor fools all wear coats! Gimme the desert, every time!”

“So you’ve come back to stay, eh?” inquired Eells unsociably, “I thought you’d left these parts.”

“Yep–left and came back,” replied Wunpost lightly. “Say, how much do you want for that contract? You might as well release me, because it’ll never buy you anything–you’ve got all the mines you’ll get.”

“I’ll never release you!” answered Judson Eells firmly. “It’s against my principles to do it.”

“Aw, put a price on it,” burst out Wunpost bluffly, “you know you haven’t got any principles. You’re out for the dough, the same as the rest of us, and you figure you’ll make more by holding on. But I’m here to tell you that I’m getting too slick for you and you might as well quit while you’re lucky.”

“Not for any money,” responded Judson Eells solemnly, “I am in this as a matter of principle.”

“Ahhr, principle!” scoffed Wunpost. “You’re the crookedest dog that ever drew up a contract–and then talk to me about principle! Why don’t you say what you mean and call it your system–like they use trying to break the roulette wheel? But I’m telling you your system is played out. I’ll never locate another claim as long as I live, unless I’m released from that contract; so where do you figure on any more Willie Meenas? All you’ll get will be Stinging Lizards.”

He burst out into taunting laughter but Judson Eells sat dumb, his heavy lower lip drawn up grimly.

“That’s all right,” he said at last, “I have reason to believe that you have located a very rich mine–and the only way you personally can ever get a dollar out of it, is to come through and give me half!”

“The only way, eh?” jeered Wunpost, “well, where did I get the price to buy that swell pair of mules? Did I give you one half, or even a smell? Not much–and I got this, besides.”

He slapped a wad of bills that he drew from his pocket, and Eells knew they were a part of his payment–the purchase price of the salted Stinging Lizard–but he only looked them over and scowled.

“Nothing doing, eh?” observed Wunpost rising up to go, “you won’t sell that contract for no price. Going to follow me up, eh, and find this hidden treasure, and skin me out of it, too? Well, hop to it, Mr. Eells, and after you’ve got a bellyful perhaps you’ll listen to reason. You got stung good and plenty when you bought the Stinging Lizard and I figure I’m pretty well heeled. Got two new mules, beside my other animals, and an eight hundred dollar watch-dog to keep me company; and I’m going to come back inside of a month with my mules loaded down with gold. Do you reckon your pet rabbit, Mr. Phillip F. Flappum, can make me come through with any part of it? Well, I consulted a lawyer before I left Los Angeles and he said–decidedly not! Your contract calls for claims, wherever located, but I haven’t got any claim. This ore that I bring in may be dug from some claim, and then again it may be high-graded from some mine; but you’ve got to find that claim and prove that it exists before you can call for a cent. You’ve got to prove, by grab, where I got that gold, before you can claim that it’s yours–and that’s something you never can do. I’m going to say I stole it and if you sue for any part of it you make yourself out a thief!”

He slammed his hand on Eells’ desk and slammed the door when he went out and mounted his big mule with a swagger. The citizens of Blackwater made way for him promptly, though many a lip curled in scorn, and he rode out of town sitting sideways in his saddle while he did a little jig in his stirrups. He had come into town and bearded their leading citizen and now he was on his way. If any wished to follow, that was their privilege as free citizens, and their efforts might lead them to a mine; but on the other hand they might lead them up some very rocky canyons and down through Death Valley in summer. But there was one man he knew would follow, for the stakes were high and Judson Eells was not to be denied–it was up to Lynch, who had claimed to be so bad, to prove himself a tracker and a desert-man.

Wunpost rode along slowly until the sun went down, for the heat-haze hung black over the Sink, and that evening about midnight he entered Jail Canyon on a road that was graded like a boulevard. It swung around the point well up above the creek, and then on along the wash to Corkscrew Gorge, and as he paused below the house Wunpost chuckled to himself as he thought of his boasts to Wilhelmina. He had bet her two months before that, without turning his hand over or spending a cent of money, he could build her father a road; and now here it was, laid out like a highway–a proof that his system would work. She had chosen to scoff when he had made his big talk; but here he was back with his clothes full of money, and Judson Eells had kindly built the road. He looked up at the moon, where it rose swimming through the haze, and laughed until he shook; then he camped and waited for day.

The dawn came in a wave of heat, preceding the sun like the breath from a furnace; and Wunpost woke up suddenly to hear his wilted terrier barking furiously as he raced towards the house. There was a moment of silence, then the spit and yell of a cat and as Wunpost stood grinning his dog came slinking back licking the blood from a scratch across his nose. He was a fullblooded fox terrier, but small and white and trembly; and the baby-blue in his eyes pleaded of youth and inexperience as he crouched before his stern master.

“Come here!” commanded Wunpost but as he reached down to slap him a voice called his name from above.

“Don’t whip him!” it begged and Wunpost withheld his hand for Wilhelmina had been much in his mind. She came dancing down the trail, her curls tumbling about her face and down over the perennial bib-overalls, and when the pup saw her he left his scowling master and crept meechingly to take refuge at her feet.

“He was chasing Red,” she dimpled, “and you know how fierce he is–why, Red isn’t afraid of a wildcat! Where have you been? We’ve all been looking for you!”

“I’ve been in Los Angeles,” responded Wunpost with a sigh, “but, by grab, I never thought that this dog of mine would get licked by an old yaller cat!”

“He isn’t yellow–he’s red!” corrected Wilhelmina briskly, “the desert makes all yellow cats red; but where’d you get your dog? And oh, yes; isn’t it fine–how do you like our new road? They had it built up to your mine!”

“So I hear,” returned Wunpost with a grim twinkle in his eye, “what do you think of my system now?”

“Why, what system?” asked Billy, staring blankly into his face, and Wunpost pulled down his lip. Was it possible that this fly-away had taken his words so lightly that she had forgotten his exposition and prophecy? Did she think that this road had come there by accident and not by deep-laid design? He called back his dog and made him lie down behind him and then he changed the subject.

“How’s your father getting along?” he asked after a silence, “has he shipped out any ore? Well say, you tell ’im to get a move on. There’s liable to be a cloudburst and wash the whole road out, and then where’d you be with your home stake?”

“Well, I guess there hasn’t been one for over twelve years,” answered Billy snapping her fingers enticingly to his dog, “and besides, it’s so hot the trucks can’t gull up the canyon–it makes their radiators boil. But we’ve got it all sacked and when Father gets his payment I’m going inside, to school. Isn’t it fine, after all they said about Dad–calling him crazy and everything else–and now his mine is worth lots and lots of money! I knew all the time he would win! And Eells has been up here and offered us forty thousand dollars, but Father wouldn’t even consider it.”

She stepped over boldly and picked up the dog, who wriggled frantically and tried to lick her face, and Wunpost stood mumbling to himself. So now it was her father who was getting all the credit for this wonderful stroke of luck; and he and the others who had called old Cole crazy were proven by the event to be fools. And yet he had packed ore for over two weeks to salt the Stinging Lizard for Eells!

“Put your mules in the corral and come up to breakfast!” cried Billy starting off for the house; and then she dropped his dog, which ran capering along behind her–and Wunpost had named it Good Luck! If she stole his dog on top of everything else, he would learn about women from her.

There was a cordial welcome at the house from Mrs. Campbell, who was radiant with joy over their good fortune; but Wunpost avoided the subject of the sale of his mine, for of course she must know it was salted. Anyone would know that after they had dug down a ways for Wunpost had simply quarried out a vein of rotten quartz and filled the resultant fissure with high grade. But there is something in Latin about caveat emptor, which is short for “Let the buyer beware!” and if Judson Eells was so foolish as to build his road first that was certainly no fault of Wunpost’s. All he had done was to locate the hole, and then Judson Eells had jumped it; and if, as a result thereof, Wunpost had trimmed him of twenty thousand, that was nothing to what Eells had done to him. And yet every time he met Mrs. Campbell’s eye he felt that she had her reservations about him. He was a mine-salter, a crook, the same as Eells was a crook; but she welcomed him all the same. Perhaps she held it to his credit that he had given Billy a full half when he had discovered the Willie Meena Mine; but it might be, of course, that she was this way with everyone and simply tolerated him as she did Hungry Bill. He ate a good breakfast, but without saying much, and then he went back to his camp.

Wilhelmina tagged along, joyous as a child to have company and quite innocent of what is called maidenly reserve; and Wunpost dug down into his pack and gave her a bag of candy, at the same time patting her hand.

“Yours truly,” he said, “sweets to the sweet, and all that. Say, what do you think this is?”

He held up a box, which might contain almost anything that was less than six inches square, and shook his head at all her guesses.

“Come on up to the lookout,” he said at last and she followed along fearlessly behind him. There are maidens, of course, who would refuse to enter dark tunnels in the company of masterful young prospectors; but Wilhelmina had yet to learn both fear and feminine subterfuge and she made no pretty excuses. She was neither afraid of the dark, nor afflicted with vertigo, nor reminded of pressing home duties; and she was frankly interested both in the contents of the box and the ways of a man with a maid. He had given her some candy, and there was a gift in the little box–and once before he had made as if to kiss her; would he now, after bringing his lover’s gifts, demand the customary tribute? And if so, should she permit it; and if not, why not?

It was very perplexing and yet Billy was determined not to evade any of the problems of life. All girls had their suitors; and yet few of them, she knew, were cast in the heroic mold of Wunpost. He was big and strong, with roving blue eyes and a smile that was both compelling and shy; and sometimes when he looked at her she felt a vague tumult, for of course he could kiss her if he would. When he had assaulted Old Whiskers and seized Dusty Rhodes by the throat, in the contest over their mine, she had stood in awe of his violence; but except for that one time when he had attempted to steal a kiss, he had reserved his rough violence for his enemies. Yet–and somehow the thought thrilled her–it might be, after all, that he was shy; and that playful, bear-like hug was only his boyish way of hinting at the wish in his heart.