"And is that why you arranged things to buy this mine?" Fairchild knew the answer before it was given.
"I? I arrange—I never thought of such a thing."
"I felt that from the beginning. An effort was made through a lawyer in Denver who hinted you were behind it. Some way, I felt differently. I refused. But you said they were going away?"
"Yes. They 've been holding conferences—father and son—one after another. I 've had more peace since the strike here than at any time in months. They 're both excited about something. Last night Maurice came to me and told me that it was necessary for them all to go to Chicago where the head offices would be established, and that I must go with him. I did n't have the strength to fight him then—there was n't anybody near by who could help me. So I—I told him I 'd go. Then I lay awake all night, trying to think out a plan—and I thought of you."
"I 'm glad." Fairchild touched her small gloved hand then, and she did not draw it away. His fingers moved slowly under hers. There was no resistance. At last his hand closed with a tender pressure,—only to release her again. For there had come a laugh—shy, embarrassed, almost fearful—and the plea:
"Can we go back where Harry is? Can I see the strike again?"
Obediently Fairchild led the way, beyond the big cavern, through the cross-cut and into the new stope, where Harry was picking about with a gad, striving to find a soft spot in which to sink a drill. He looked over his shoulder as they entered and grinned broadly.
"Oh," he exclaimed, "a new miner!"
"I wish I were," she answered. "I wish I could help you."
"You 've done that, all right, all right." Harry waved his gad. "'E told me—about the note!"