And, inch by inch and minute by minute, Ohromades and Ahriman fought for the soul of David Morning. The ebon-plumed spirit of darkness and the silver-armored essence of light battled along the lines of heaven and hell, and the light triumphed, and darkness was hurled from the battlements, and peace and strength came to the aching soul.
He would wait. He would not even jeopardize her peace by righting himself in her esteem. He would offer no explanation. He would wait, wait for the decree of the Father, wait for the hour of meeting in honor. If it came on earth, well; if it came only through the help of death, still well, for “life is short but love immortal.” In the other land there would be readjustments, and each soul not mated truly here would find its true mate there, in a mating that should be prevented by no power, and limited by no death, but should endure so long as the planets circle in their orbits.
How did he know this? Not through any evidence presented to the material senses, nor through any logic of the schools. It is the spiritual sense of man that perceives his spiritual life. No priest can give him his intuitions, no scoffer can take them from him, and the querulous questionings of science are but as the babblings of infancy in the august presence of the soul.
And for full five minutes David Morning sat with his face between his hands, then rose and went forth a conqueror.
CHAPTER VIII.
“Conceal what we impart.”
Before leaving Colorado Morning employed a force of skilled workmen, necessary for the successful conduct of both quartz mills and copper-smelting furnaces. It was his design to make Waterspout a little world in itself, the members of which should consent to remain in the cañon for three years, communicating with the world outside only by mail. To this end physicians, school-teachers, and a clergyman were secured, and a library, musical instruments, and theatrical scenery purchased, with the confident expectation that local histrionic talent would be developed; for where is the American community of five hundred souls which does not contain the material both for Hamlet and burnt-cork opera?
From Denver Morning proceeded directly to San Francisco, where the leading iron works were soon busy constructing quartz-crushing machinery. By the 15th of April everything was on the ground, and in one month thereafter the stamps were ready to drop. This result was achieved by working nights by electric light, the Rillito furnishing power for the dynamos.
In ordering the mining work Morning had arranged for a double-track tunnel, which would reach the lode at a depth of about one hundred and fifty feet from the surface, and there was now a broad, well-ventilated and well-lighted underground road to and along the entire length of the quartz lode, at a point five feet from it. From this tunnel Morning could cause to be run as many crosscuts into the lode as he desired, and thus control the amount of quartz extracted, and keep within his exclusive knowledge the true dimensions of the mineral deposit.
Conjecture was rife, and the general opinion questioned the sanity of a man who made such costly and elaborate preparations for extracting and reducing quartz in a place where no quartz or sign or promise of quartz was visible. But Superintendent Robert Steel kept his own counsel, the wages of the men were paid promptly, all bills were cashed on presentation, and the prevailing sentiment was voiced by big Jim Stebbins, the boss of shift No. 3, who interrupted and terminated a discussion among his men as to Morning’s movements by saying:—
“Dave Morning is no mining shark or stock-board stiff. His money is clean money; he dug it out of the ground; and if he chooses to buck it off agin a syenite dike, a payin’ you fellers $4.00 for eight hours’ work, which is a sight more than some of you is worth, why, I reckon it’s nobody’s business but his own. It’s only five minutes to shift time; put out your pipes, and get a move on you.”