“I’d watch him like a hawk, then,” was Joshua’s advice. “If that wet hill slides down in your tunnel— Well, then you’ll be mighty busy, to say the least.”
“I know it,” she returned. “And I confess I’m worried. But I can’t fire Jawbone—you don’t understand, perhaps. I have one of his own men watching him on the sly, and I’ll know it if he begins shooting heavily again.”
Joshua left the camp of the Mundys at three o’clock in the afternoon and walked slowly homeward. His reception and subsequent treatment by the two women had warmed his heart, and made him feel anything but the tramp laborer that he actually was. He smiled now at his frankness in telling Madge that he had come West seeking her, and wondered where he had found the courage. It was plain that she had suspected why he had come; she must have realized that coincidence had not set him down in a camp next door to hers. And she had asked the meaning of it. Had she expected the brave reply that he had made? Joshua whistled as he followed the well-beaten footpath that ran parallel with the new railroad grade. He was well satisfied with the result of his renewed friendship with the Mundys. Physically Madge was even more glorious than he had expected her to be, but he grew a trifle morose when he remembered her reference to money-making. Joshua was too much of a dreamer, too thoroughly wrapped up in the romance of astronomy, to give great heed to money matters. And he wanted the woman he was going to love—Madge, in short—to be as indifferent to the moron idea of slaving day and night for riches as he was. But Madge would be all right—he was too young, too full of youth’s enthusiasm over life in general to beckon difficulties. And if they came uncalled he would surmount them. Yes, Madge was all right—more than all right.
He returned to his block-hole drilling the following morning, and nothing out of the ordinary occurred until the ghost walked. Then, with his pay in his pocket, he trudged around the lake to Ragtown, a new tent village which had sprung into being since the establishment of Demarest, Spruce and Tillou’s Camp Number One, and sent a money-order to his brother. His letter asked that all of his belongings be expressed to him immediately. Then he sent money to three magazines devoted to the science of astronomy, and returned to his muscle-building hammerwork once more.
He wanted to call on the Mundys the following Sunday, but refrained. It would not do to presume too far on their friendship. Yet he longed desperately to see Madge again. He wondered about young Montgomery. What was he like? Madge had not mentioned him; Joshua knew only that California Bill had referred to him as one of the ardent suitors of the shanty queen.
California Bill arrived in camp in the course of a day or two, and that night Joshua saw him for the first time since his trip down the line. They sat on the ground at the edge of camp and watched the lake turn red, then violet, then purple as the sun sank to rest behind Saddle Mountain; and Bill, as he listened to Joshua’s accusation, sang softly:
“My head likes liquor, but my stomach don’t.
My feet cut up, but my stomach won’t.
My hands play poker and my tongue sings a song,
But my stomach keeps a-sayin’, ‘There’s somethin’ wrong.’