"I shall remember you all," he cried, waving his hand gaily in farewell."Doctor, I shall build you a hospital where your skill will have opportunity and scope.Mr.Macgregor, your heart will be delighted with that church-manse-school building of yours." This was Shock's pet scheme for the present."To all of you suitable rewards.
This time I see success.Farewell."
After he had turned away he reined back his pony and addressed Shock again.
"Mr.Macgregor," he said, with almost solemn earnestness, "I give my daughter into your charge.I am sure you will watch over her.She will be comfortable with Josie, and she will be safe under your care."His spirit of enthusiastic confidence caught all the crowd standing by, so that they gave him a hearty cheer in farewell.
"Did not say what he would give us, eh, Carroll?" said Crawley, who with Carroll stood at the back of the crowd.
"Blanked old fool!" growled Carroll.
"And yet he has a marvellous instinct for mines," said Crawley, "and this time he has got something more than usual in his head, Ibelieve.He has been particularly secretive.I could not get anything out of him.Guess he means to euchre us out of our share of anything big, partner.""Curse him for an owld thief!" said Carroll."I'll have it out av his hide, so I will, if he tries that.""Then, Carroll, you'll have to do it when his big friend is not round."Carroll's answer was a perfect flood of profanity, copious enough to include not only the Old Prospector, Shock, all the relatives living and dead, but Crawley, who stood listening with a sarcastic grin on his evil face.
"Well, well," at last said Crawley soothingly, "your time will come.
And, partner, you may depend on me when it comes.I owe him something, too, and I would rather pay it than get a mine."The days that followed the Old Prospector's departure were lonely enough for his daughter.Her father's illness had brought to them both the inestimable boon of mutual acquaintance and affection.It was the girl's first experience of having near her one to whom she could freely give the long-hoarded treasures of her love; and now that he was gone she could only wonder how she could have lived so long without him.It was well for her that she had her school, which she transferred now to her father's house, for though Shock occupied the inner room he was very little at home.
In addition to the school there was Patsy, who, never very strong, had not regained even his puny strength since the operation.Every fine day Marion would take the little lad for a glorious canter up the trail that ran along The Lake, but the day was never complete to Patsy unless it included a visit to the Jumping Rock, and there a tale, and at least one song.In these rides Stanton, as often as he visited the village, would join, and then it was the Swallow that the little cripple would ride, holding his reins in cowboy style high in one hand, and swaying with careless security in the saddle, and all the more because of the strong arm about him.
These were happy days to Patsy, happy to young Stanton, happier than she knew to Marion, and all the happier by contrast to the dark, sad days that followed.
About three weeks after the Old Prospector's departure a half-breed, on a cayuse wet and leg-weary, appeared at the Loon Lake Stopping Place, asking for the preacher.
"Blanked if I know!" growled Carroll."Off on some fool hunt or other.""Ask Ike there," said Crawley, who was sitting on the stoop."You belong to his flock, don't you, Ike? Elder, aint you?""His flock?" echoed Ike."Wouldn't mind if I did.I'd be sure of my company, which I can't always be almost anywhere else.Want the preacher, eh?" turning to the half-breed.
"Letter from de old man."
"What old man? Let me see it," said Crawley quickly."Ah! 'Rev.Mr.
Macgregor, or one of his friends.' Guess this is from the Old Prospector, eh?"The half-breed nodded.
"Where is he?"
"Way up in mountain," he said, waving his hand toward the hills.
"Well, the preacher isn't here.It must be important," continued Crawley."I suppose I might as well open it, especially as it is likely it will be something about outfit.Eh, Carroll?"He was about to tear the letter open when Ike interposed.
"Hold up, there.It strikes me you're a little rapid in your conclusions.Let's have a look at the letter."Crawley very unwillingly gave it up.
"One of his friends," read Ike, with some difficulty, "You count yourself in there, do you?" to Crawley."You'd be mighty lucky if he agreed with you on that there point.Now I judge this ought to go to the preacher or, if he aint round, to the young lady."So saying, Ike, without another glance at the disappointed Crawley, strode away with the letter to find Marion.
He found her busy in the school.She read the letter, looked at Ike with white face and wide-open eyes, read it a second time, and said, "He wants Mr.Macgregor, quick--and me.He is ill.Oh, Ike!" she cried suddenly, "he is ill, and Mr.Macgregor is away.""Where did he go?" said Ike shortly.
"I heard him say to Willow Creek, to the Martins.The doctor is with him.""The Martins, eh? Why, that's only eight miles, I reckon.Well, git yourself ready and your horse.I'll be back in an hour and a half."He turned away, but after he had gone a few steps he strode back.
"No use lookin' like that," he said almost gruffly."We'll git a wagon and bring him home easy.A wagon's easier than ridin', though 'taint likely he's very bad.""Bad!" exclaimed Marion, with a sob."Oh, Ike you don't know my father.If he were not bad he would not--" Here her voice failed her.
