Iron County register., 1898-03-10
TIE Old SILVER TRAIL.
BY MARY E. sncKNEY.
IcOpyrirht 1896. by }. B LlpplncoH Col
CHAPTER v.

ways wet in places from seepin~
springs, had been badly quilted by the
ram, but Dorothy had no care for safe
ty as she blindly dashed down the steep
hill. She felt altogether shaken and IN
nerved by this fortuitous reviviscenee
OF an adventure which had fingered in
her memory as cherished bit of ro-
nance.
AS she had truthfuIly told him in
dhe hurry and perturbation of the
WORLDS fair encounter she had had
hardly a thought to spare for the
looks OF the young fellow whom
chance had sent to play knight
Iy part; still less had there been op-
lportunity to learn his name or aught
else about him, beyond the patent facts
that he had been charmingly Jealous In
her service and that his manner had
been precisely what the manner of a
gentleman should be under such circum-
stances, deferential and wholly unpre-
Stunning. That she should ever meet
him again she was altogether too prac-
tlcal to imagine; but the picture of
him which had remained with her, for
the very vagueness of its outlines, had
always had strong hold upon her fancy
In the extravaganza of youths delight
IN adventure, she had liked to magnify
the romance of the episode by endowing
the hero with every grace, until uncon-
sciously to herself he had developed to
an ideal, altogether transcending the
common run of men.
And now in a moment the fair god
was rudely toppled to earth He was
HaTyhU Nni o1x
durer, who by Misrepresentation and
fraud and by clever play upon the falli-
sbility of the law would strive to despoiI
his neighbor. He had dared to accuse
her father of stealing a fortune out of
the Mascot mine; he would brand him
as a common thief, simply to attain his
own iniquitous ends. "a regular bunco
game" her father had tersely charac-
terized the suit which had been brought
against him. A buncu game! and de-
sised by him who had been idealized in
her mind as very Chevalier Bayard,
without fear and without reproach.
Youth resents so fiercely it's disillu-
sionments! She could have wept angry
tears for the sense of loss, of cruel grie7-
ance, in this ruthless shattering of her
IDEAL.
She had nearly reached that point
far down the hill where the road lead
ing up to the Grubstake branched away
to the east in an acute angle, when her
eyes fell upon the handkerchief still
bound about her wrist. With a little
inarticulate exclamation she brought
the horse to an abrupt stop, while, hur-
riedly undoing the damp folds, she
~ Il
smitted TO herself that she expected to
see him glued to the spot where she
had left him, absorbed in sentimental
contemplation of her back; but her i'll
humor was not little augmented by
the fact that he had wholly vanished
from sight, while nobody appeared
whom she could call to her assistance.
Acting upon the first impulse, she
turned to go back up the hill, but with
a second thought she stopped again,
perpleXedly studying the situation.
One small cabin, somewhat apart from
the other buildings of the mine, she in
stinctively settled upon as Neirs pri-
-vate quarters; and she was half disposed
to ride up to the door forthwith and
boldly tender him this bit of his equip
Ement, of which she so keenly longed to
be rid; but with reflection appeared a
dozen reasons why she should not do
that, not the least of which was her
nervous dread of again encountering
Neil himself. She must return the
handkerchief by some messenger, she
decided, with sharp dislike for the very
sight of it, thrusting it down into her
saddle pocket, as she turned back again
to the Grubstake road.
Col. Meredith was standing just with
lin the shaft+house door with the super
intendent of the mine as Dorothy rode
Up, both so much occupied with their
conversation that for the moment neith-
-er looked up. There was something in
her fathers attitude which suggested
ITO the girls mind that he must have
very lately arrived himself, and with
the thought she found herself glancing
back down the road with little start
of apprehension as she reflected how
near he might have been to seeing her
ride down the hill on the other side
lin company with Harvey Neil. She had
had no distinct thought of concealing
that circumstance till this moment;
hut now of a sudden it appeared
clear that it might be far more con-
ducive to her peace of mind to keep
to herself the adventure Of that after
noon.
VIII all the off hand good-fellowship
which existed between them, there was
really very little in common between
Dorothy Meredith and her father AS
a child, when by her mother she had
been taken to live in the old family
home at Brooklyn. her father had been
to her as q fairy prince whose occa-
sional visits had meant lavish gifts and
unlimited indulgence. She had been
fond of him, in frank, childish selfish
ness. for what he did rather than what
he was to her-after the canny method
. of children, who see so much of that
to which they are supposed to be blind
half guessing at the incompatibility
which led her parents to dwell so much
apart. and instinctively divining some
what of the jealous regard of each for
>5er. by means of which she might, as
it were, pit one against the other to
attain her own small ends. As she
preyy older the colonel, always hand
some and debonair. gradually assumed
\ pood-humored elder-brother attitude,
, which perhaps the girl appreciated the
more for the peevish fretfulness which
had grown upon the invalid mother
with passing years. Her father, al
thoupb. as she well knew, naturally of
10 her generally