But his impulse was stifled as his keen mind cast back over the past days. He recalled the rescue of Solange and the ambush from the top of the great, flat outcrop. Vague descriptions of Pete’s location, heard in casual talks with Solange, came to him. The old sheep-herder had been able to describe his find as having been made where he had eaten his noonday meal “on a rock.” That rock—the Lunch Rock, as it had been called, had even given the mine a name in future legend, as the Peg Leg had been named.
But there had been no rock that could answer the description near the camp. At least there had been only one, and that one had been the flat outcrop on which Banker had lain at length and from which he had attempted to shoot De Launay.
Then swiftly he recalled Solange’s cry of warning and his own swift reaction. He had fired at the eyes and forehead appearing above the edge of the rock and he had hit the edge of the rock itself. He had laughed to see the mad prospector clawing at his eyes, filled with the powdered rock, and had laughed again to see his later antics as he stood upright, while De Launay rode away, waving his arms in the air and yelling.
He saw now what had caused those frantic gestures and shouts. It had been he, De Launay, who had uncovered to the prospector’s gaze the gold which should have been mademoiselle’s. 264
No wonder he had no desire to laugh as he turned back into the valley. He was weighted down with the task that was his. He had to tell Solange that the quest on which she had come was futile. That her mine was found—but by another, and through his own act. He visualized those wonderful eyes which had, of late, looked upon him with such soft fire, dulling under the chilling shock of disappointment, mutely reproaching him for her misfortune and failure.
The wild Vale of Avalon, which had seemed such a lovely haven for Morgan la fée, had lost its charm. He plodded downward and across the rank grass, going slowly and reluctantly to the cabin. Entering it, he went first to Sucatash, asking him how he felt.
The cow-puncher raised himself with rapidly returning strength, noting the serious expression on De Launay’s face.
“I’m getting right hearty,” he answered. “I’ll drag myself out and sit up to-night, I reckon. But you don’t look any too salubrious yourself, old-timer. Aimin’ to answer sick call?”
“No,” said De Launay. “Thinking about mademoiselle. You remember those stakes we saw?”
“Banker’s claim? Sure.”