At the Time Appointed Part 8

"Well," said Mr. Britton, slowly, "I'm not sure but his is the wiser plan. You must remember, Dave, that his stay with us will probably be but temporary. Whenever that portion of his brain which is now dormant does awaken, you can rest a.s.sured he will not remain here long. He no doubt realizes this and wishes to be absolutely foot-loose, ready to leave at short notice. And as to the financial side of the question, if you give him the place in your mill for which he is eminently fitted, it will be fully as remunerative in the long run as the interest in the business which you intended giving him."

"What place in the mill do you refer to?" Mr. Underwood asked, quickly.

"Oh, I'm not making any 'suggestions,' Dave; you don't need them." And Mr. Britton smiled quietly into the fire.

"Go ahead and say your say, Jack," said the other, his own face relaxing into a grim smile; "that was only a bit of my crankiness, and you know me well enough to know it."

"Give him the position of a.s.sayer in charge."

"Great Scott! and fire Benson, who's been there for five years?"

"It makes no difference how long he's been there. Darrell is a better man every way,--quicker, more accurate, more scientific. You can put Benson to sorting and weighing ores down at the ore-bins."

After a brief silence Mr. Britton continued, "You couldn't find a better man for the place or a better position for the man. The work is evidently right in the line of his profession, and therefore congenial; and even though you should pay him no more salary than Benson, that, with outside work in the way of a.s.says for neighboring camps, will be better than any business interest you would give him short of twelve or eighteen months at least."

"I guess you're right, and I'll give him the place; but hang it all! I did want to put him in Harry's place. You and I are getting along in years, Jack, and it's time we had some young man getting broke to the harness, so that after a while he could take the brunt of things and let us old fellows slack up a bit."

"We could not expect that of Darrell," said Mr. Britton. "He is neither kith nor kin of ours, and when once Nature's ties begin to a.s.sert themselves in his mind, we may find our hold upon him very slight."

Both men sighed deeply, as though the thought had in some way touched an unpleasant chord. After a pause, Mr. Britton inquired,--

"You have no clue whatever as to Darrell's ident.i.ty, have you?"

Mr. Underwood shook his head. "Queerest case I ever saw! There wasn't a sc.r.a.p of paper nor a pen-mark to show who he was. Parkinson, the mine expert who was on the same train, said he didn't remember seeing him until Harry introduced him; he said he supposed he was some friend of Harry's. Since his sickness I've looked up the conductor on that train and questioned him, but all he could remember was that he boarded the train a little this side of Galena and that he had a ticket through from St. Paul."

"You say this Parkinson was a mine expert; what was he doing out here?"

"He was one of three or four that were here at that time, looking up the Ajax for eastern parties."

"In all probability," said Mr. Britton, musingly, "Darrell was here on the same business."

"If that was his business, he said nothing about it to me, and I would have thought he would, under the circ.u.mstances."

"I wonder whether we could ascertain from the owners of the Ajax what experts were out here or expected out here at that time?"

Mr. Underwood smiled grimly. "Not from the former owners, for n.o.body knows where they are, though there are some people quite anxious to know; and not from the present owners, for they are too busy looking for their predecessors in interest to think of anything else."

"Why, has the Ajax really changed owners? Did they find any one to buy it?"

"Yes, a Scotch syndicate bought it. They sent over a man--one of their own number, I believe, and authorized to act for them--that I guess knew more about sampling liquors than ores. The Ajax people worked him accordingly, with the result that the mine was sold at the figure named,--one million, half down, you know. The man rushed back to New York, to meet a partner whom he had cabled to come over. About ten days later they arrived on the ground and began operations at the Ajax. The mill ran for just ten days when they discovered the condition of affairs and shut down, and they have been looking for the former owners ever since."

Both men laughed, then relapsed into silence. A little later, as Mr.

Britton stirred the fire to a brighter glow, he said, while the tender curves about his mouth deepened,--

"I cannot help feeling that the coming to us of this young man, whose ident.i.ty is wrapped in so much mystery, has some peculiar significance to each of us. I believe that in some way, whether for good or ill I cannot tell, his life is to be henceforth inseparably linked with our own lives. He already holds, as you know, a place in each of our hearts which no stranger has held before, and I have only this to say, David, old friend, that our mutual regard for him, our mutual efforts for his well-being, must never lead to any estrangement between ourselves. We have been stanch friends for too many years for any one at this late date to come between us; and you must never envy me my little share in the boy's friends.h.i.+p."

The two men had risen and now stood before the fire with clasped hands.

"I was an old fool to-night, Jack; that was all," said Mr. Underwood, rather gruffly. "I haven't the knack of saying things that you have,--never had,--but I'm with you all the time."

On the forenoon of the following day Darrell was shown the underground workings of the various mines, not excepting the Bird Mine, located almost at the summit of the mountain. This was the newest mine in camp, but, in proportion to its development, the best producer of all.

After an early dinner there was a private meeting in the reception-room beyond the office, at which were present only Mr. Underwood, Mr.

Britton, and Darrell, and at which Mr. Underwood duly tendered to Darrell the position of a.s.sayer in charge at the Camp Bird mill, which the latter accepted with a frank and manly grat.i.tude which more than ever endeared him to the hearts of his two friends. In this little proceeding Mr. Britton purposely took no part, standing before the grate, his back towards the others, gazing into the fire as though absorbed in his own thoughts. When all was over, however, he congratulated Darrell with a warmth and tenderness which filled both the heart and the eyes of the latter to overflowing. That night, after their arrival at The Pines, as Mr. Britton and Darrell took their accustomed stroll, the latter said,--

"Mr. Britton, I feel that I have you to thank for my good fortune of to-day. You had nothing to say when Mr. Underwood offered me that position, but, nevertheless, I believe the offer was made at your suggestion. It was, in reality, your kindness, not his."

"You are partly right and partly wrong," replied Mr. Britton, smiling.

"Never doubt Mr. Underwood's kindness of heart towards yourself. If I had any part in that affair, it was only to indicate the channel in which that kindness should flow."

Together they talked of the strange course of events which had finally brought him and the work for which he was especially adapted together.

"Do you know," said Mr. Britton, as they paused on the veranda before entering the house, "I am no believer in accident. I believe that of the so-called 'happenings' in our lives, each has its appointed time and mission; and it is not for us to say which is trivial or which is important, until, knowing as we are known, we look back upon life as G.o.d sees it."

_Chapter VIII_

"UNTIL THE DAY BREAK"

A week later Darrell was duly installed at the mining camp. Mr. Britton had already left, called on private business to another part of the State. After his departure, life at The Pines did not seem the same to Darrell. He sorely missed the companions.h.i.+p--amounting almost to comrades.h.i.+p, notwithstanding the disparity of their years--which had existed between them from their first meeting, and he was not sorry when the day came for him to exchange the comfort and luxury with which the kindness of Mr. Underwood and his sister had surrounded him for the rough fare and plain quarters of the mining camp.

Mrs. Dean, when informed of Darrell's position at the camp, had most strenuously objected to his going, and had immediately stipulated that he was to return to The Pines every Sat.u.r.day and remain until Monday.

"Of course he's coming home every Sat.u.r.day, and as much oftener as he likes," her brother had interposed. "This is his home, and he understands it without any words from us."

On the morning of his departure he realized as never before the depth of the affection of his host and hostess for himself, manifesting itself as it did in silent, un.o.btrusive acts of homely but heartfelt kindness. As the storing of Darrell's belongings in the wagon which was to convey him to the camp was about completed, Mrs. Dean appeared, carrying a large, covered basket, with snow-white linen visible between the gaping edges of the lids. This she deposited within the wagon, saying, as she turned to Darrell,--

"There's a few things to last you through the week, just so you don't forget how home cooking tastes."

And at the last moment there was brought from the stables at Mr.

Underwood's orders, for Darrell's use in going back and forth between The Pines and the camp, a beautiful bay mare which had belonged to Harry Whitcomb, and which, having sadly missed her young master, greeted Darrell with a low whinny, muzzling his cheek and nosing his pockets for sugar with the most affectionate familiarity.

It was a cold, bleak morning. The ground had frozen after a heavy rain, and the wagon jolted roughly over the ruts in the canyon road, making slow progress. The sky was overcast and straggling snowflakes wandered aimlessly up and down in the still air.

Darrell, from his seat beside the driver, turned occasionally to speak to Trix, the mare, fastened to the rear end of the wagon and daintily picking her way along the rough road. Sometimes he hummed a bit of half-remembered song, but for the most part he was silent. While not attempting any definite a.n.a.lysis of his feelings, he was distinctly conscious of conflicting emotions. He was deeply touched by the kindness of Mr. Underwood and Mrs. Dean, and felt a sort of self-condemnation that he was not more responsive to their affection. He knew that their home and hearts were alike open to him; that he was as welcome as one of their own flesh and blood; yet he experienced a sense of relief at having escaped from the unvarying kindliness for which, at heart, he was profoundly grateful. Even late that night, in the solitude of his plainly furnished room, with the wind moaning outside and the snow tapping with m.u.f.fled fingers against the window pane, he yet exulted in a sense of freedom and happiness. .h.i.therto unknown in the brief period which held all he recalled of life.

The ensuing days and weeks pa.s.sed pleasantly and swiftly for Darrell. He quickly familiarized himself with the work which he had in charge, and frequently found leisure, when his routine work was done, for experiments and tests of his own, as well as for outside work which came to him as his skill became known in neighboring camps. His evenings were well filled, as he had taken up his old studies along the lines of mineralogy and metallurgy, pus.h.i.+ng ahead into new fields of research and discovery, studying by night and experimenting by day. Meanwhile, the rocky peaks around him seemed beckoning him with their talismanic signs, as though silently challenging him to learn the mighty secrets for ages hidden within their b.r.e.a.s.t.s, and he promised himself that with the return of lengthening days, he would start forth, a humble learner, to sit at the feet of those great teachers of the centuries. He had occasional letters from Mr. Britton, cheering, inspiring, helpful, much as his presence had been, and in return he wrote freely of his present work and his plans for future work.

Sometimes, when books were closed or the plaintive tones of the violin had died away in silence, he would sit for hours pondering the strange problem of his own life; watching, listening for some sign from out the past; but neither ray of light nor wave of sound came to him. His physician had told him that some day the past would return, and that the intervening months or years as the case might be, would then doubtless be in turn forgotten, and as he revolved this in his mind he formed a plan which he at once proceeded to put into execution.

On his return one night from a special trip to Ophir he went to his room with more than usual haste, and opening a package in which he seemed greatly interested, drew forth what appeared to be a book, about eleven by fifteen inches in size, bound in flexible morocco and containing some five or six hundred pages. The pages were blank, however, and bound according to an ingenious device which he had planned and given the binder, by which they could be removed and replaced at will, and, if necessary, extra pages could be added.

For some time he stood by the light, turning the volume over and over with an expression of mingled pleasure and sadness; then removing some of the pages, he sat down and prepared to write. The new task to which he had set himself was the writing of a complete record, day by day, of this present life of his, beginning with the first glimmerings of memory, faint and confused, in the earliest days of his convalescence at The Pines. He dipped his pen, then hesitated; how should this strange volume be inscribed?

Only for a moment; then his pen was gliding rapidly over the spotless surface, and the first page, when laid aside, bore the following inscription: