The Spoilers of the Valley Part 35

Phil did not answer.

"Are you?" she asked again.

"Jim and I are chums," he answered.

"Which means----?"

"'Birds of a feather----'"

How long they would have chatted on, Phil had no notion, for the lights, the music, the gliding dancers, the gaiety and the intoxicating presence of Eileen Pederstone had him in their thrall. However, he was interrupted by the stout but agile figure of Graham Brenchfield weaving in and out among the dancers and coming their way.

He stopped up in front of them, giving Phil a careless nod. He held out his bent arm to Miss Pederstone.

"This is ours, I think, Eileen," he said. "Sorry I was late. Excuse us, Ralston!"

Phil gasped and looked over to Miss Pederstone.

"No, siree!" answered the young lady, quite calmly and naturally. "I have promised this dance to Mr. Ralston, and was just resting a little bit before starting out."

"Pshaw!--Ralston doesn't dance," he bantered. "This is a dandy waltz,--come!"

"But you _do_ dance, Mr. Ralston?" she put in.

"Of course I do!" said Phil, springing up. And, in a moment, they sailed away from him whose very presence tainted the atmosphere for Ralston.

A backward glance showed Brenchfield glooming after them, the fingers of one hand fumbling with the pendant of his watch-chain, the fingers of the other pulling at his heavy, black moustache.

But who had any desire to keep the picture of one such as he in memory, in the new delights that were swarming in on Phil?

He held Eileen Pederstone lightly within the half-hoop of his arm. She was but a floating featherweight. But, ah! the intoxication of it, he could never forget: the violins singing and sighing in splendid harmony and time; the perfume of the lady's presence; the soft, sweet, white, living, swaying loveliness; the feeling of abandonment to the pleasure of the moment that enveloped him from his partner's happy heart. Great G.o.d!--and Phil a young man in the first flush of his manhood, exiled from the presence of womanhood for five years, shut away from the refining of their influence and in all that time never to have felt the charm of a woman's voice, the delight of a woman's happy laugh, never to have felt the thrill of the touch of a woman's hand;--and suddenly to be released at the very Gates of Heaven: little wonder he was dumb, sightless and deaf to all else but the bewitchment of the waltz.

Phil thought he had forgotten the way, but, ah! how they danced as they threaded their way through and round. No one touched them; none stopped the swing, rhythm and beat of their movements.

Once Eileen spoke to him, but he did not comprehend. She looked up into his face and, as he gazed down into her eyes, he thought she must have understood his feelings, for she did not attempt conversation again.

He was as a soul without a body, soaring in the vastnesses of the heavens, in harmony and unison with the great and perfect G.o.d-created spirit world of which he formed an infinitesimal but perfect and necessary part.

Gradually, and all too soon, alas!--for it seemed to him that they had hardly started--the music slowed and softened till it died away in a whisper, and he was awakened to his surroundings by the sudden burst of applause from the dancers on every side of them.

He did not wait to ascertain if there might be a few more bars of encore. He did not know, even, that there was a possibility of such.

Still in a daze, he led Eileen Pederstone to her seat. He thanked her, bowed and turned to cross the floor. But she did not sit down. She laid a detaining hand gently on his arm.

"Thank you so much!" she said. "I enjoyed it immensely. And Mr.

Brenchfield dared to say you couldn't dance!"

Phil smiled, but did not reply. The spell of the dance had not yet entirely gone from him.

"Are you afraid to ask me if there might be another?" she inquired, with a coy glance and just a little petulance in her voice.

"Can you--can you spare another?"

"Of course, I can!"

"Another waltz?" he queried eagerly.

"The dance fourth from now is a waltz," she answered.

"May I have it?"

"Yes!"

Brenchfield--surly watch-dog that he was--was at their heels again.

This time, the refreshment buffet was his plea.

Phil abandoned his partner to him with good grace, for even Graham Brenchfield could not quench his good spirits over the great enjoyment he still had in store;--another waltz with Eileen Pederstone.

In the hallway, he encountered Jim, who twitted him for a moment for his great courage, but Phil could see that Jim had something on his mind that had not been there when he had left him. They went to the outside door and stood together in the cool, night air.

"Gee Phil!--but this is a grand night for these feed sneaks to pull off something big," he said, in that mixture of Scotticisms and Western Canadian slang that he often indulged in.

"What makes you think of that?"

"Look at the sky, man!--black as ink and not a moon to be seen.

Everybody is at the dance; Chief Palmer and Howden are here; the Mayor, the Aldermen, Royce Pederstone, Ben Todd; why, man,--the town outside there is empty.

"Did you notice anything peculiar in the gathering in there, Phil?"

"No! How do you mean?"

"Not a mother's son of that Redman's bunch is present."

"But they're not much of a dancing crowd."

"You bet they are!--when it suits them. You never saw a crowd of cowpunchers that weren't.

"I have the keys to the O.K. Supply Company's Warehouse on the tracks.

Are you game for a nose around, just to see if there's anything doing?"

"What's the good of worrying over a thing like that to-night, Jim?

Let's forget it and have a good time."

Jim laughed. "Well,--I'm going anyway. Say, Phil! I've not only got the keys to the O. K. Warehouse, but I have keys that fit Brenchfield's and the Pioneer Traders' as well."

"Better watch you don't get pinched yourself," Phil cautioned.

"De'il the fear o' it, Phil! But I'm going to get one over that bunch if it is only to satisfy my own Scotch inquisitiveness. At the same time, I would like to help out Morrison of the O.K. Company. He's a good old scout, and this thieving is gradually sucking him white.

Palmer and his crowd don't seem to be able to make anything of it--or don't want to--yet it has been going on for years."

"I should like to come," Phil answered, "only I've promised to have another dance with Miss Pederstone, and I couldn't possibly think of disappointing myself in the matter. Give me a line on where you'll be, and I'll come along and join you as soon as that particular dance is over. Won't you stick around till then, and we can go together?" he suggested.