“Are you waiting for me to go?” she asked, smiling wanly, but even then he did not respond. There had been a time, not many weeks ago, when he would have risen up and offered her a chair; but he had got past that now and seemed really and sincerely to prefer his own company to hers. “I thought you might help us,” she went on almost tearfully, “to get back our stock from Blount. It was nice of you to tell me, after the way I acted; but–oh, I don’t know what it was that came over me! And I never even thanked you for telling me!”
A cynical smile came into Wiley’s eyes as he sat back and put down his pen, but even after that she hurried on. “Yes, I know you don’t like me–you think I tried to wreck your mine and turned all your men against you–but I do thank you, all the same. You–you used to care, Wiley; but anyhow, I thank you and–I guess I’ll be going now.”
She started for the door but he did not try to stop her. He even picked up his pen, and she turned back with fire in her eyes.
226“Well, you might say something,” she said defiantly, “or don’t you care what happens to me?”
“No; I don’t, Virginia,” he answered quietly, “so just let it go at that. We can’t get along, so what’s the use of trying? You go your way and let me go mine.”
“Oh, I know!” she sighed, “you think I’m ungrateful–and you think I just came for my stock. But I didn’t, altogether; I wanted to say I’m sorry and–oh, Wiley, doyou think he’s alive?”
“Who?” he asked; but he knew already–she was thinking about the Colonel.
“Why, Father,” she ran on. “I heard you that time when you got old Charley drunk. Do you think he’s really alive? Because if he is!” She raised her eyes ecstatically and suddenly she was smiling into his. “Because if he is,” she said, “and I can find him again–oh, Wiley; won’t you help me find him?”
“I’ll think about it,” responded Wiley, but his eyes were smiling back and the anger had died in his heart. After all, she was human; she could smile through her tears and reach out and touch his rough hand, and he could not bring himself to hate her. “After I pay for the mine,” he suggested gently. “But now you’d better go.”
“Oh, no,” she protested, “please tell me about it. Is he hiding in the Ube-Hebes? Oh, you don’t know how glad I was when I heard you talking with Charley–I never did think he was dead. He sent me word once, not to worry about him, 227but–the Indians said he had died. That is–well, they said if it hadn’t been for that sandstorm they would surely have found the body. And he’d thrown away his canteen, so he couldn’t have had any water; and there wasn’t any more for miles. He was lost, you know, and out of his head; and heading right out through the sand-hills. Oh, it’s awful to talk about it, but of course we don’t know for certain; and it might have been somebody else. Don’t you think it was some other man?”