The miner soothed the saddler and left with a sense of bafflement. Smith was still endeavoring to think of other sources of information when he went to the Miners’ Emporium and was hailed by its proprietor.
“I’ve thought of a way to settle that bet,” said Fosdike. “My kid brother is a lawyer down in Phoenix, and she let out one day that she knew him. So I wrote him a description. You’ll see. She’s no Cathcart.”
“We’ll see!” The miner grinned, and made a jest of it when he departed for a two-week stay in the hills.
The next time he appeared in the Emporium, Fosdike met him with a grunt and tossed him a letter. The miner read:
If this woman is about thirty years old or younger, as you say, I’m afraid I can’t help to identify her, although she would be near my own age. Cathcart and Riggs each had two daughters, all good looking, and all with what you call “snappy black eyes.” Also, all were self-reliant. But none of them was named “Pearl,” and I never knew a girl named “Pearl.”
“Humph!” said Smith. “Only way I can think of to find out who she was is to get Ring after her. They’re such good friends!”
Both laughed at this ironic jest, for the feud between The Reformer and the owner of the Alamo had become a classic throughout the entire district; and yet, in the end, it was the editor who first got the information.
For some tranquil weeks, The Reformer blithely went his way without giving any one sufficient cause to try to kill him. Perhaps the widely advertised fact that he had at last yielded to the protective use of firearms deterred the less courageous spirits from taking a chance, while others hoped that this was evidence that he was becoming tolerant to the exigencies of his environment.
Ring had come to Murdock from the highly moral and quiet surroundings of a mid-Western town and mid-Western university, imbued with the idea that his mission in life rested in making a mining camp model itself on the same lines, and—the mining camp couldn’t see it. His indomitable courage had saved him from ridicule, his increasing love for the town had gained him respect, and almost imperceptibly he had begun to wield considerable influence in all ordinary matters not too intimately associated with his ideas of reform.
Even Placer City, Murdock’s rival, admitted this, and Placer City was farther away than it looked. The camps were visible to each other, and on a clear day the residents of one could be observed by those of the other with a pair of field glasses. Because of an enormous cañon, however, that separated them to make way for the river bed, necessitating a day’s journey for one to visit the other, intercourse was of the most meager for all save the most energetic and determined, who could shorten the time to five or six hours by taking a perilous trail down one steep side and up the other.