Prosperity And Parting

: Dorothy On A Ranch

They were both so excited that at first they couldn't talk, but could

only stare at each other in speechless delight. Jim was trembling, for

he was still weak from his long illness, and he steadied himself by

attentions to Zaraza and by bidding Jose in Spanish to bring the

stranger a drink.



Dorothy dropped down upon the stones where they had been sitting and

watched the child.



H did not now dip water from the tank at the cabin door but from a

nearby spring, which Jim had found and cleared of rubbish. The spring

had always been there; but it had been easier for lazy Alaric, the

herder, to fill the barrel now and then--or let the rain do it for

him--and use from that till the supply failed. He did not yet understand

how the stagnant water had had anything to do with his own fever, that

had followed on Jim's partial recovery.



Children are quick witted. Jose came running back with the dipper, after

having carefully rinsed and filled it at the spring, as Jim had taught

him. His eyes were bright and there was a winning smile on his chubby

face, now clean. He recognized Dorothy as the girl to whom he had given

his pet lamb and promptly demanded:



"El cordero? Donde?"



Dorothy stared at him, then put her hands on each side his chubby face

and kissed him. The child screamed with delight and repeated his

question. At which the girl also laughed and turned to Jim, asking:



"What does he say? What does he want?"



"I reckon he wants his lamb. He's asking you where it is," answered the

lad, gladly using this chance to air his own new knowledge.



That broke the spell of not knowing how to begin and their loosened

tongues wagged fast enough after that. Dorothy forgot all about her lost

company and seizing a piece of the coarse bread her old friend had been

eating devoured it as if it had been a great delicacy.



Jim laughed, glad to see her so hungry and so eager, and obeyed her

command:



"Now begin just as we used to do at home at Deerhurst. 'I went from

here' and don't you miss a single thing until you come to 'and here I

am.' I'll help you start. You went from San Leon the very night you got

there. Now why?"



"I shall never know why, girlie. I was crazy with fever, I guess. I

hadn't been real well before I came west and that was one reason Dr.

Sterling made me come. He thought the change would cure me. It didn't. I

must have got out the window but I don't really know, only I half

remember that. Then the next thing I did know I was in Alaric's cabin

yonder with him and little Jose here. I was pretty sick. I couldn't

write but I was wild to tell you where I was and not to worry nor think

me terrible mean. I didn't want to act that way, you know, even though I

did find myself in the wrong box with those other rich boys----"



"No such thing, Jim Barlow! That was all your own self-consciousness.

They're the nicest boys in the world and the friendliest. And it seems

you can remember some things--bad ones--even if not how you ran away and

got away up here to this peak. Jim, I'm ashamed of you. I certainly am!"



But the way in which she reached out and clasped his hand in both of

hers disarmed the words of all offence. Jim threw back his head and

laughed as he hadn't done in many a day. It was just glorious to be

scolded again by his old comrade! It was so homelike that he felt "more

himself" than any softer speech would have made him.



"Well, go on! Do go on!"



"Alaric isn't half bad. I reckon I'd have died but for him. An old

Indian chief, of the Utes, White Feather Alaric called him--his

brother-in-law----"



"Oh! I'm well acquainted with him. Don't stop to tell that part, but

just do go on."



Jim stared and retorted:



"Oh! you are, eh? But I've got to tell about him 'cause it was he who

found me and brought me here. Picked me up on the road somewhere. I've

had a suspicion--just a suspicion, don't you know?--that Alaric wasn't

any too glad to see me. It's a mighty little house and he's a mighty

lazy man. But he had to do it. He's afraid of White Feather, though I

tell you, Dolly Doodles, he's a splendid Indian. If all red men were

like him----"



"I don't care at all about Indians. Go on."



"Alaric dressed my arm with leaves and stuff and fed me the best he

could, but after I'd got that basket sent to you with the lamb and the

stones--Did you get it? Did you understand?"



"Yes, I understood--part. I knew that only Jim Barlow could make such a

curious D as was on the stone and the basket. I supposed you were alive

somewhere and I tried to think you were all right. By the way, the

lambkin is thriving and we've named it after you--Netty!"



"What? Why Netty, if you please?"



Dorothy laughed and explained. She was ready now to laugh at anything

and so was he: she made him finish his story, which he promptly did.



After he had sent the basket-message he had grown worse. He was

delirious and did not know what went on about him. He thought it was

the bad water from the old tank that increased his fever, and was sure

it was that which had made the sheep herder himself fall ill. So before

his strength came back he had to turn nurse himself and attend upon

Alaric. He had now recovered enough to go away to his employer's ranch

for a few days. Meanwhile Jim was keeping the sheep for his host with

little Jose for company.



Dorothy listened, asking questions now and then, and finally inquired:



"Is this Alaric an Indian?"



"No. A Mexican, a Greaser. He married an Indian princess, the sister of

White Feather."



"How came you by that Indian rig? costume, I mean."



Jim laughed. "White Feather again. At first I hadn't anything to wear

but a ragged pair of trousers which Alaric lent me, though he hated to,

and a blanket for a coat. But a few days ago White Feather and his

braves came this way again. He brought quite a collection of old duds

and gave 'em to Alaric. That paid him for what he'd lent me, I guess.

And some of White Feather's folks have always given little Jose his

Indian fixings, too. Else--Well, he wouldn't have had much to wear.

Ain't he cute?"



"Indeed, he is. Looks exactly like a tiny White Feather himself. The

dear!" answered Dorothy, helping herself to another piece of bread and

breaking it in bits to feed the child, who smiled and swallowed in great

glee. "But your suit? You haven't told about that yet."



"Isn't it fine? I begin to feel like a red man myself, wearing it. White

Feather gave this to me with his own hands. It looks as if it had been

worn a long time but it's a mighty comfortable rig, especially after a

fellow's had--nothing at all."



Then Dorothy talked, her words fairly tumbling over each other in her

haste to tell all that had happened at San Leon while he was gone. She

ended with the question:



"Will you go back with me now, Jim? or with all of us, when we find

them! My heart! How glad, how glad they'll be!"



Jim shook his head.



"I can't, Dolly, not yet. I've got to stay till Alaric comes. Nobody

knows when that'll be, he's so lazy; and so sure now that I'll do his

work for him. Besides--I've got something on my mind. Even if--even

if--Well, I shan't go back to San Leon till I take a peace offering with

me. I think--anyway I hope--I've--No matter. Where are the others, do

you think? How did you get so far away from 'em, alone?"



"I don't know. But I wish--I wish they'd come. Ah! Hark!"



Dorothy stood up and listened. They could hear a horse moving

somewhere, the dull thud of hoofs on soft ground, and a whinny of

recognition to Zaraza feeding near. A moment later Silent Pete came into

sight, and in another moment had dismounted beside them.



He hadn't a word to say but stared at Jim with what would seem reproach

except for a kindly gleam in his blue eyes. Up and down the lad's tall

form the old man's eyes roved many times and then he gave one of his

rare laughs.



"Fits good, hey?"



"First class! Did you ever wear an Indian costume?" asked Jim.



"Huh! I've wore that one more years 'n you're old," said the ex-hunter,

and sitting down helped himself to the bread.



Perhaps the man had never talked so freely as he did now. Of hunting, of

savage fights, and of mining--of anything and everything connected with

Colorado's past as he had known it. Because he had never had such

interested listeners. Jim's eyes shone, and when the subject touched on

mining, he got up and went into the shack, coming back a moment later

with some bits of stones lying on his palm. He held these out to Silent

Pete who accepted them with sudden interest. Until he finally exclaimed:



"Glory! Where?"



Jim walked a little distance from that point of the mesa and the others

followed him wondering. Then digging away some earth from the small

hillock where he had paused, pointed downward.



Silent Pete gazed without speaking for a full moment. Then he stooped

and gathered a few fragments of insignificant stone, while Dorothy

watched him wondering. Presently the hunter looked up--his face

transformed--the brilliancy of youth restored to his faded eyes.



"Silver! by gum! And--and--all the land this side that shack belongs to

San Leon! Of all the dum luck--Let's go home! Let's go home!"



He couldn't move fast enough. The youngsters followed him at an equal

pace so excited that they scarcely knew what they were doing. Jim had

found silver! Jim had discovered a mine! This meant untold wealth to

their beloved host!



There was no thought in their minds of a possible mistake. It could not

be. It was all as clear as daylight to Dorothy, whose reverent heart

always traced "leadings" in that chain of events which we call life.



Jim had been "led" to all and through all that had happened. If he

hadn't wandered here--no use thinking about that. He had wandered, he

had found the silver, it had been ordered, even the pain and

suffering and grief. Oh! to get back to where they could send the good

news flying to the absent owner of San Leon!



"Let's go home!" cried the girl, running to the Zaraza's side and trying

to saddle her.



But Jim would not let her do that, though he did not seek to hinder her

from going, and when she had sprung to her seat upon the filly's back,

he held out his hand, saying:



"I'll come soon's I can, Dolly Doodles! This is a big day for me!"



"Why--why--aren't you coming too? You can ride part of the way and I

part."



"No, girlie. I promised Alaric I'd take care of Jose and the sheep. I've

got to--duty, you know."



"Oh! Duty! I hate duty! Oh! Jim, you ought to be the one, the very one

to carry the good news straight to 'Boss Dan!' It should be you to send

this glorious message!"



But Jim shook his stubborn head.



"I'd like to--shucks! But I ain't never seen how neglectin' the duty 't

lies to hand helps a fellow to do the one 't is further off. It's all

right, Dolly. You speed the good word and watch out for Jim. He'll be

coming--sure. Good-by--good-by."



Meanwhile Peter had placed the lunch baskets on the ground, leaving them

for Jim and the child.



Not until they had passed out of sight and were well on the downward

trail did Dorothy remember her absent mates and to ask how Silent Pete

had chanced to find her. He scarcely paused to reply; for though he

spoke no word, except to answer her questions, he was fairly quivering

with excitement. It isn't every day one stumbles on a silver mine, even

in Colorado!



"Oh! I saw where you'd passed by the trompled brush. I knew the calico's

tread. I saw 't you was off the line an' I blazed that so's the rest'd

see and not get scared. We shan't see no more o' them till nightfall,

only you an' me--we must get home. Don't waste breath talkin'--just

travel."



Travel they did and, their own dispatches sent from San Leon, another

came flashing back--crossed each other on the way, so to speak.



"Reach the ranch to-morrow. D. F."



Well, this story is about told. Such a wonderful home-coming that was!

Messengers had been quickly sent to the sheep herder's hut to act as

substitutes for Jim in his "duty" and to bring him and Jose "home,"

where he found himself welcomed as a hero--he who had thought himself

despised.



Thus was discovered the famous "Bygum Mine," so named for the first

words uttered by Silent Pete, when Jim showed him the site. Those who

remember the energy of "Dan Ford, Railroad Boss" will understand how

promptly matters were set in motion for the opening of "Bygum;" and

those who know his generosity will guess how he made each young guest a

sharer, to some degree, in this fresh prosperity. All except Jim Barlow:

for that too independent youth promptly refused any further benefit

from his great discovery than a simple "Thank you." How that refusal

affected the lad's pursuit of "knowledge" will be told in another story

of "Dorothy's House Boat," upon which, a few weeks later, he had to

"work his passage."



But now, with Lady Gray's dear presence among them and the master's hand

at the helm, there was nothing but happiness for all at San Leon: until,

all suddenly it seemed, the three months of their stay had passed and

the parting came. If there was sadness in their hearts that morning,

when they mounted the buckboards for their journey back to Denver, there

was also anticipation and delight; for, to quote the words of their

genial host:



"The world is but a little place. We have met and loved each other--we

shall meet and love again."