That Girl Montana
around that little girl's cabin. If you don't want to be treated like a
spy, don't act like one."
"Well, it does look queer, maybe," said the other, lamely. "I--I could not
get asleep, and as I was walking around, it seemed natural to look in the
cabin, though I did not want to disturb them by going in. I think I heard
them say she was improving."
"Did they say that--lately?" asked Overton, earnestly, everything else
forgotten for the moment in his strong desire for her recovery. "Who said
it--Miss Slocum? Well, she seems like a sensible woman, and I hope to God
she is right about this! Don't mind my roughness just now. I was too
quick, maybe; but spies around a new gold mine or field are given pretty
harsh treatment up here sometimes; and you were liable to suspicion from
any one."
"No doubt--no doubt," agreed the other, with visible relief. "But to be a
suspected character is a new role for me--a bit amusing, too. However, now
that you have broached the subject of this new find of yours, I presume
Lyster made clear to you that I came up here for the express purpose of
investigating what you have to offer, with a view to making a deal with
you. And as my time here will be limited--"
"Perhaps to-morrow we can talk of it. I can't to-night," answered Overton.
"To that little girl in there one-third of the stock belongs; another
third belongs to that paralyzed man in the other cabin. I have to look
after the interests of them both, and need to have my head clear to do it.
But with her there sick--dying maybe--I can't think of dollars and cents."
"You mean to tell me that the young girl is joint owner of a gold find
promising a fortune? Why, I understood Max to say she was poor--in fact,
indebted to you for all care."
"Max is too careless with his words," answered Overton, coldly. "She is in
my care--yes; but I do not think she will be poor."
"She has a very conscientious guardian, anyway," remarked Mr. Haydon,
"when it is impossible for a man even to look in her cabin without finding
you on his track. I confess I am interested in her. Can you tell me how
she came in this wild country? I did not expect to find pretty young white
girls in the heart of this wilderness."
"I suppose not," agreed the other.
They had reached the little camp fire by this time, and he threw some dry
sticks on the red coals. As the blaze leaped up and made bright the circle
around them, he looked at the stranger and said, bluntly:
"What did Akkomi tell you of her?"
"Akkomi?"
"Yes; the old Indian who went in with you to see her."
"Oh, that fellow? Some gibberish."
"I guess he must have said that she looks like you," decided Overton. "I
rather think that was it."
"Like _me_! Why--how--" and Mr. Haydon tried to smile away the absurdity
of such a fancy.
"For there is a resemblance," continued the younger man, with utter
indifference to the stranger's confusion. "Of course it may not mean
anything--a chance likeness. But it is very noticeable when your hat is
off, and it must have impressed the old Indian, who seems to think
himself a sort of godfather to her. Yes, I guess that was why he spoke to
you."
"But her--her people? Are there only you and these Indians to claim her?
She must have some family--"
"Possibly," agreed Overton, curtly. "If she ever gets able to answer, you
can ask her. If you want to know sooner, there is old Akkomi; he can tell
you, perhaps."
But Mr. Haydon made a gesture of antipathy to any converse with that
individual.
"One meets so many astonishing things in this country," he remarked, as
though in extenuation of something. "The mere presence of such a savage in
the sick girl's room is enough to upset any one unused to this border
life--it upset me completely. You see, I have a daughter of my own back
East."
"So Max tells me," replied Overton, carelessly, all unconscious of the
intended honor extended to him when Mr. Haydon made mention of his own
family to a ranger of a few hours' acquaintance.
"Yes," Haydon continued, "and that naturally makes one feel an interest in
any young girl without home or--relatives, as this invalid is; and I would
be glad of any information concerning her--or any hint of help I might be
to her, partly for--humanity's sake, and partly for Max."
"At present I don't know of any service you could render her," said
Overton, coldly, conscious of a jarring, unpleasant feeling as the man
talked to him. He thought idly to himself how queer it was that he should
have an instinctive feeling of dislike for a person who in the slightest
degree resembled 'Tana; and this stranger must have resembled her much
before he grew stout and broad of face; the hair, the nose, and other
points about the features, were very much alike. He did not wonder that
Akkomi might have been startled at it, and made comments. But as he
himself surveyed Mr. Haydon's features by the flickering light of the
burning sticks, he realized how little the likeness of outlines amounted
to after all, since not a shadow of expression on the face before him was
like that of the girl whose sleep was so carefully guarded in the cabin.
And then, with a feeling of thankfulness that it was so, there flashed
across his mind the import of the stranger's closing words--"for the sake
of Max."
"For Max, you said. Well, maybe I am a little more stupid than usual
to-night, but I must own up I can't see how a favor to 'Tana could affect
Max very much."
"You do not?"
"I tell you so," said Overton curtly, not liking the knowing smile in the
eyes of the speaker. He did not want to be there talking to him, anyway.
To walk alone under the stars was better than the discord of a voice
unpleasant. Under the stars she had come to him that once--once, when she
had been clasped close--close! when she had whispered words near to his
heart, and their hands had touched in the magnetism of troubled joy. Ah!
it was best to remember that, though death itself follow after! A short,
impatient sigh touched his lips as he tried to listen to the words of the
stranger while his thoughts were elsewhere.
"And Seldon would do something very handsome for Max if he married to suit
him," Haydon was saying, thoughtfully. "Seldon has no children, you know,
and if this girl was sent to school for a while, I think it would come out
all right--all right. I would take a personal interest to the extent of
talking to Seldon of it. He will think it a queer place for Max to come
for a wife; but when--when I talk to him, he will agree. Yes, I can
promise it will be all right."
"What are you talking of?" demanded Overton, blankly. He had not heard
one-half of a very carefully worded idea of Mr. Haydon's. "Max married! To
whom?"
"You are not a very flattering listener," remarked the other, dryly, "and
don't show much interest in the love affairs of your _protegee_; but it
was of her I was speaking."
"You--you would try to marry her to Max Lyster--marry her!" and his voice
sounded in his own ears as strange and far away.
"Well, it is not an unusual prophecy to make of a young girl, is it?"
asked Mr. Haydon, with an attempt to be jocular. "And I don't know where
she could find a better young fellow. From his discourses concerning her
on our journey here and his evident devotion since our arrival, I fancy
the idea is not so new to him as it seems to be to you, Mr. Overton."
"Nonsense! when she is well, they quarrel as often as they
agree--oftener."
"That is no proof that he is not in love with her--and why not? She is a
pretty girl, a bright girl, he says, and of good people--"
"He knows nothing about her people," interrupted Overton.
"But you do?"
"I know all it has been necessary for me to know," and, in spite of
himself, he could not speak of 'Tana to this man without a feeling of
anger at his persistence. "But I can't help being rather surprised, Mr.
Haydon, that you should so quickly agree that a wise thing for your
partner's nephew to do is to turn from all the cultured, intelligent girls
he must know, and look for a wife among the mining camps of the Kootenai
hills. And, considering the fact that you approve of it, without ever
having heard her speak, without knowing in the least who or what her
family have been--I must say it is an extraordinarily impulsive thing for
a man of your reputation to do--a cool-headed, conservative business
man."
Mr. Haydon found himself scrutinized very closely, very coldly by the
ranger, who had all the evening kept away from him, and whom he had
mentally jotted down as a big, careless, improvident prospector, untaught
and a bit uncouth.
But his words were not uncouth as he launched them at the older man, and
he was no longer careless as he watched the perturbation with which they
were received. But Haydon shrugged his shoulders and attempted to look
indifferent.
"I remarked just now that this was a land of astonishing things," he said,
with a tolerant air, "and it surely is so when the most depraved-looking
redskin is allowed admittance to a white girl's chamber, while the most
harmless of Caucasians is looked on with suspicion if he merely shows a
little human interest in her welfare."
"Akkomi is a friend of her own choosing," answered Overton, "and a friend
who would be found trusty if he was needed. As to you--you have no right,
that I know of, to assume any direction of her affairs. She will choose
her own friends--and her own husband--when she wants them. But while she
is sick and helpless, she is under my care, and even though you were her
father himself, your ideas should not influence her future unless she
approved you."
With a feeling of relief he turned away, glad to have in some way given
vent to the irritation awakened in him by the prosperous gentleman from
civilization.
The prosperous gentleman saw his form grow dim in the starlight, and
though his face flushed angrily at first, the annoyance gave place to a
certain satisfaction as he seated himself on a log by the fire, and
repeated Overton's final words:
"_'Even though you were her father himself_!' Well, well, Mr. Overton!
Your uncivil words have told me more than you intended--namely, that your
own knowledge as to who her father was, or is, seems very slight. So much
the better, for one of your unconventional order is not the sort of person
I should care to have know. 'Even though you were her father himself.'
Humph! So he does me the doubtful honor to suppose I may be? It is a nasty
muddle all through. I never dreamed of walking into such a net as this.
But something must be done, and that is clear; no use trying to shirk it,
for Seldon is sure to run across them sooner or later up here--sure. And
if he took a hand in it--as he would the minute he saw her--well, I could
not count on his being quiet about it, either. I've thought it all out
this evening. I've got to get her away myself--get her to school, get her
to marry Max, and all so quietly that there sha'n't be any social
sensation about her advent into the family. I hardly know whether this
wealth they talk of will be a help or a hindrance; a help, I suppose. And
there need not be any hitch in the whole affair if the girl is only
reasonable and this autocratic ranger can be ignored or bought over to
silence. It would be very annoying to have such family affairs talked
of--annoying to the girl, also, when she lives among people who object to
scandals. Gad! how her face did strike me! I felt as if I had seen a
ghost. And that cursed Indian!"
Altogether, Mr. Haydon had considerable food for reflection, and much of
it was decidedly annoying; or so it seemed to Akkomi, who lay in the
shadow and looked like a body asleep, as were the others. But from a fold