Middletown transcript., 1912-05-25
CHAPTER Xxx.
The Converting Trails.

WQAIeVeT Lu9 IeeuuB OF the OlH0Tbt
Armstrong found himself unable to
sleep that night. It seemed to him
that fate was about to play him the
meanest and most fantastic of tricks.
Many times before in his crowded life
he had loved other women, or so he
characterized his feelings, but his pas
sion for Louise Rosser Newbold had
been in class by itself until he had
met Enid Maitland. Between the two
there had been many women, but these
two were the high points, the rest was
lowland.
Once before, therefore, this Newbold
had cut in ahead Of him and had won
the woman he loved. Armstrong had
cherished a hard grudge against him
for long time. He had not been Of
those who had formed the rescue
party led by old Kirkby and Maitland
which had buried the poor woman on
the great butte In the deep canon.
Before he got back to the camp the
whole affair was over and Newbold
had departed. Luckily for him, Arm
strong had always thought, for he
had been so mad with grief and rage
and jealousy that If he had come
across him, helpless or not, he would
have killed him out of hand
Armstrong had soon enough forgot
ten Louise Rosser, but he had not
forgotten Newbold. All his ancient an
imosity had famed into instant life
again, at the sight of his name last
night. The inveteracy Of his hatred had
been in no way abated by the lapse
Of time, 1t seemed.
Everybody in the mining camp had
supposed that Newbold had wandered
OF and perished in the mountains, else
Armstrong might have pursued him
and hunted him down. The sight of
his name on that piece of paper was
outward and visible evidence that he
still lived. It had almost the shock
of a resurrection, and a resurrection
to hatred rather than. to Iove. If
Newbold had been alone in the world,
II Armstrong had chanced upon him in
the solitude, he would have hated him
Just as he did, but when he thought
that his ancient enemy was with the
woman he now loved, with a growing
intensity beside which his former re-
sentiment seemed weak and feeble he
hated him yet the more.
He could not tell when the notice,
which he had examined carefully. was
written; there was no date upon it.
but he could come to only one conclu-
sion. Newbold must have found Enid
Maitland alone in the mountains very
shortly after her departure, and he
had her with him in his cabin alone
for at least a month. Armstrong
gritted his teeth at the thought. He
did not UnderValue the personality Of
Newbold. He had never happened to
see him, but he had heard. enough
about him to understand his quail
ties as man. The tie that bound
Armstrong to Enid Maitland was a
strong one, but the tie by which he
held her to him, If indeed he held her
at all, was very tenuous and easily
broken; perhaps it was broken al
ready, and so he hated him still more
and more.
Indeed, his animosfty was SO great
and growing that for the moment he
took no Joy in the assurance of the
girls safety; yet he was not altogether
an unfair man, and in calmer moments
he thanked God in his own rough way
that the woman he loved was alive and
well, or had been when the note was
written. He rejoiced that she had not
been swept away with the flood or that
she had not been lost in the mountains
and forced to wander on finally to
BtarVe and freeze and die. In one mo
ment her nearness caused his heart to
throb with Joyful anticipation. The
certainty that at the first flush Of day
he should seek her again sent the
warm blood to his cheeks. But those
thoughts would be succeeded by the
knowledge that she was with his en-.
emy. Was this man to rob him Of the
latest love as he had robbed him Of
the first? Perhaps the hardest task
that was ever laid upon Armstrong
was to lie quietly in his sleeping bag
and wait until the morning.
So soon as the first indication Of
dawn showed over the crack Of the
door, he slipped quietly out of his
sleeping bag and without disturbing
the others drew on his boots, put on
his heavy fur coat and cap and gloves,
Alung his Winchester and his snow
shoes over his shoulder, and without
stopping for bite to eat, softly open
ed the door, stepped out and closed 1t
after him. It was quite dark In the
bottom Of the canon, although a few
pale CLEANS overhead indicated the
near approach Of day. 1t was quite
still, too. There were clouds on the
mountain top heavy with threat of
wind and snow.
The way was not difficult. the direc-
ton Of 1t, that is. Nor was the going
very difncult at first; the snow was
frozen and the crust was strong enough
to bear him. He did not need his
snow shoes, and, indeed, would have
had little chance to use them in the
marrow, broken, rocky pass. He had
slipped away from the others because
he wanted to be first to see the man
and the woman. He did not want any
witnesses to that meeting. They
would have come on later, Of course:
but he wanted an hour or two in pri-
lvate with Enid and Newbold without
any interruption. His conscience was
not clear. Nor could he settle upon a
course of action.
How much NeWbold knew of his
former attempt to win away his wife.
how much Of what he knew he had
told Enid Maitland, Armstrong could
not surmise. Putting himself into
Newbold's place and imagining that
the engineer had possessed entire in
forme ion, he decided that he must
have told everything to Enid Matt
land as soon as he had found out the
quasi relation between her and Arm
strong. And Armstrong did not believe
the woman he loved could be in any
bOdy's presence a month without tell
ting something about him. Still, It was
possible that Newbold knew nothing,
and that he told nothing therefore.
The situation was paralyzing to a