A most appealing luncheon was set forth on the white table cloth spread on a camp table among the boulders. Halloway, in his shirt sleeves, was making coffee, opening cans of deviled ham, unpacking a box of fried chicken, and otherwise endeavoring to be several places at once. He fell immediately to issuing orders.
“Bring that box of ice with the bottles in it from the wagon, John. I say, Damron, do you know how to broil bacon? Well, you’ll never learn younger. Shake those coals down and set to work, my son. And don’t let the coffee boil over.” His enthusiasm was contagious. I found myself obeying him mechanically. “You might unpack the sandwiches, Kate. We’re going to have the jolliest little lunch you ever saw. I suspect you are hungry. Scudding over these hills is great for the appetite. By the way, you made a fine run of it.” He was so genial and friendly to her that one could hardly believe he knew that his confederate had just brought her back under the menace of his revolver.
Miss Gray probably thought his assurance was akin to cheek. At any rate she gave him the full benefit of her un-willowy five foot seven. He met with smiling admiration her level indignant eyes; and indeed the girl’s long curves, her frank good looks, her flashing sunburnt beauty, had led captive many a man’s fancy. Turning on her heel, she joined her father. Simon Gray, multimillionaire, was seated morosely on a rock, frowning down into the Garden of the Gods with blazing eyes. Far below a dozen dwarfed carriages might be seen wheeling along the red ribbon of road, and many burros with tourists on their backs crawled like ants among the rocks, but for all practical purposes the grim-eyed captain of industry was as much a prisoner as if the gates of a jail had closed on him.
His dignity was too precious to be risked in a futile attempt to escape from the long-legged powerful young athlete. Possibly it was because I was so interested in the situation that I burnt the bacon to a crisp. Miss Grey, with one of her sudden changes of humor, drove me from the fire and broiled the bacon herself. The truth is that despite her frowns the girl was enjoying herself hugely. The excitement of a new experience filliped through her blood.
I joined Mr. Gray and we conversed in whispers. He explained to me the absolute necessity of his being in Denver that afternoon to attend an important meeting of the Copper Consolidated Corporation. It was the day of the biennial election of officers. He had bought Consolidated stock sufficient to win the control from the present management, but without his presence or his proxies the old management would still be able to carry the election and reinstate itself. James Halloway was president of the Consolidated, and the two men had been fighting for control more years than one.
“Last call for dinner in the dining car,” sang out Halloway, and notwithstanding our lack of harmony the sharp air of the Rockies had made us hungry enough to sink, for the moment, at least, all differences. Halloway, easy, alert, and masterful, dispensed refreshments with debonair hospitality to his unwilling guests.
“Finest bacon I ever ate. It would be a pleasure to have you for a housekeeper, Miss Gray,” our host tossed out audaciously.
“You are such a good provider, Mr. Halloway, that I am sure it would be a pleasure to be your housekeeper,” returned Miss Gray demurely.
“And if I neglected my duties you could always send your man out to shoot at me.”
