“Well,” said Lyle, merrily, but with a slightly mysterious air, “if you are out at that hour, you may see the phantom horse and his rider.”
“Why, how is that?” inquired Van Dorn wonderingly, while Houston remarked:
“If we see nothing more than phantoms, we shall be very happily disappointed.”
“All right,” she responded, “if the ghost walks to-night, don’t be surprised,” and hearing some one enter the dining room to make preparations for the evening meal, she left them, and the subject of conversation changed immediately.
A few hours later, Houston started as usual for the mines. There was nothing out of the ordinary course of affairs in this, except that the leave-taking between him and Leslie was unusually tender, but of this no one knew but themselves. A little earlier, Van Dorn had left for his customary stroll, giving Lyle an invitation to accompany him, which she declined on the plea of being very busy. She immediately withdrew to the kitchen, and smiled to herself presently, as she saw Minty, with an air of great importance, starting out in the same direction. She had been gone about half an hour, when Lyle, who was again seated in the porch, caught sight of her moon-shaped face peering around the corner of the house in frantic endeavors to attract Haight’s attention. As he was facing in almost an opposite direction, her efforts were unavailing, and Lyle, who could with difficulty restrain a smile, added to her embarrassment by inquiring in the blandest tones:
“What is it, Araminta? do you wish to see me?”
At the mention of her name, Haight turned suddenly, just as the blushing Miss Bixby was stammering out his name, and catching his eye, she began nodding vigorously, to signify the importance of her errand.
For once, Haight’s punctilious suavity upon which he prided himself, deserted him, and exclaiming, partly in anger, and partly as a blind, “Confound it! what does the fool want of me?” he disappeared around the house, while Lyle exchanged glances with Miss Gladden, and the inoffensive young bookkeeper, recently imported from Silver City, looked on in mute astonishment.
At the kitchen door, Haight found his agent and spy, her face shining with delight that she at last had some news to impart.
“He’s went in there to-night, Mr. Haight,” she cried breathlessly, “I seen him; I’ve watched him every night, but he’s never went in till to-night.”