The date was that of the tragic night, the night when Bells Park, fighting for those on whom he had bestowed a queer, distorted affection, had been kicked to death by the ruffians now cowering in a distant jail!
Verily the camp and the district had memories for him as he trudged away from its straggling shanties, and filled his lungs with the fresh, free air from the wide, rugged stretches beyond. When he came through the borders of the Rattler he looked eagerly, insistently, for a glimpse of his heart’s desire, and thought, with annoyance, that he did not so much as know the cabin which she called home. But he was not rewarded. It was still the same, with no enlivening touch of form or color, the same spider-web tramways debouching into the top of the mill, the same sullen roar and rumble of falling stamps, the same columns of smoke from tall chimney and humble log structure, alike, and the same careless clash of the breakers.
Bill came hurrying down the trail to meet him, waving his hat, and shouting a welcome. Up at 257 the yard the smith held a black hand and muscled arm up to shade his eyes from the last sunlight, and then shook a hammer aloft. From the door of the engine room the man who had been Bells’ assistant bawled a greeting, and the fat cook shook a ladle at him through the mess-house window. It all gave him an immense and satisfactory warmth of home-coming, and the Croix d’Or, with its steadfast, friendly little colony, was home in truth!
“We’re in sixty feet on the seven-hundred-foot,” Bill grinned, with the air of one giving a pleasant surprise, “and say, boy, we’ve hit the edge of ore. You were all right. The green lead is still there, only she looks better to me than she did before, and I know rock, some.”
There was nothing wanting in the pleasure of his return, and the last addition to that satisfactory day was a note he found, lying on the very top of other letters awaiting him. It was from Joan Presby, and Bill, starting to enter the office, saw his partner’s face in the light of the lamp, smiled affectionately, and then tiptoed away into the darkness, as if to avoid intrusion at such a time.
CHAPTER XVI
BENEFITS RETURNED
Dick waited impatiently at the rendezvous, saw Joan coming, hurried to meet her, and was restrained from displaying his joy by her upheld hand, as she smiled and cautioned: “Now, steady, Dick! You know we were not to––to––be anything but comrades for a while yet.”