diff options
Diffstat (limited to 'old/65894-h/65894-h.htm')
| -rw-r--r-- | old/65894-h/65894-h.htm | 2308 |
1 files changed, 0 insertions, 2308 deletions
diff --git a/old/65894-h/65894-h.htm b/old/65894-h/65894-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 3eb7559..0000000 --- a/old/65894-h/65894-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,2308 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html> -<html lang="en"> -<head> - <meta charset="UTF-8" /> - <title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Beyond the Law, by Jackson Gregory</title> - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - <style> - body { margin-left:8%; margin-right:8%; font-size:medium } - .chapter { margin-top:4em; margin-bottom:4em; } - .x-ebookmaker .chapter { margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; } - .chapter p { text-indent:1.15em; margin-top:0.1em; - margin-bottom:0.1em; text-align:justify; } - .section { margin-top:4em; margin-bottom:4em; } - h1, h2 { text-align:center; font-weight:normal; } - h1 { font-size:1.4em; } - h2 { font-size:1.1em; margin-bottom:2em; margin-top:4em; } - h2 span { font-size:0.9em; } - a, a:visited { color: #00008b; } - a:hover { color: red; } - .figcenter { clear:both; max-width:100%; margin-top:2em; - margin-bottom:2em; text-align:center; } - .figcenter p { text-align:center; text-indent:0; margin-top:0; } - .figcenter img { width:100%; } - .portrait { margin-left:15%; width:70%; } - .landscape { margin-left:5%; width:90%; } - .x-ebookmaker .portrait { margin-left:5%; width:90%; } - hr.tb { margin-left:25%; width:50%; margin-top: 1em; - margin-bottom:1em; border:none; border-bottom: 1px solid; } - </style> -</head> - -<body> -<p style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Beyond the Law, by Jackson Gregory</p> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Beyond the Law</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Jackson Gregory</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: July 22, 2021 [eBook #65894]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: Roger Frank</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BEYOND THE LAW ***</div> - -<div class='section'> - <div class='figcenter landscape' id='i001'> - <img src='images/illus-001.jpg' alt='Beyond the Law' /> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - -<div style='text-align:center;'> - <h1>Beyond the Law</h1> - <div style='font-size:1.1em; margin-bottom:0.7em;'>By Jackson Gregory</div> -</div> - -<h2 id='ch_I' title="Watson Hears His Call"> -<span>CHAPTER I</span><br />WATSON HEARS HIS CALL</h2> - -<p>“Did you ever kill a man?”</p> - -<p>The question came quietly out of a long silence. The younger man looked up -quickly from the crackling camp-fire, his eyes searching his partner’s grave -face for an explanation of the strangely dull note in his voice.</p> - -<p>“No, Johnny. I never killed a man. Why?”</p> - -<p>Johnny Watson made no answer for a little as he drew thoughtfully upon his pipe. -The little, drying mountain stream upon which they had camped for the night went -singing on its way under the stars.</p> - -<p>Neither of the two men so much as stirred until after the younger man had almost -forgotten the abrupt question, and was thinking upon the bed he had made of -willow branches, when Johnny Watson took the pipe from between his lips, ran a -brown hand across the grizzled stub of his ragged mustache and continued in the -same expressionless monotone:</p> - -<p>“I have. Three of ’em. One close to thirty years ago, Dick. A sailor, he was; -and a sailor of a sort I was, too, in those days. Down where the South Seas is -used to man-killing. I had a little money, a good deal for a sailorman to have -all at one time, sewed in a bit of canvas in my shirt. Ben, he had been drunk -and was mean and reckless, or I guess he wouldn’t ’a’ done it— Ben was a decent -man after his fashion.</p> - -<p>“He come up behind with a knife. I saw his shadow, and I give it to him across -the temple with a bit of scrap-iron laying on the little pier. He died two days -later.</p> - -<p>“One was twenty years gone now. They called him DeVine, and he was the -crookedest man that ever put on white man’s clothes. It began with cards, and -ended with him trying to do me on a mine. He knowed when I had caught him, and -pulled his gun first. He missed me about six inches, and we wasn’t standing more -than seven feet apart....</p> - -<p>“And one was something more than eight years ago. He was no account. He murdered -old Tom Richards. Tom was a pardner of mine. Tom’s body wasn’t cold yet when the -man as murdered him went to plead his case with the Great Judge.”</p> - -<p>Again the deep stillness of the mountains shut in about them. Young Dick Farley -stared curiously into his partner’s face, wondering. And since the ways of the -cities of the earth were not forgotten by him, the ways of men, where judges and -courts and written laws were not, were new to him—he shivered slightly.</p> - -<p>For two years he and the man who was speaking quietly of the murderous killing -of men, and the killing of men in retribution, had lived together in that close -fraternity for which the West has coined the word “pardnership” from a colder -word; and never had he heard old Johnny Watson talk as he did tonight. And still -he waited for the man to go on, knowing that there was some reason for this -unasked confidence.</p> - -<p>“There’s some things a man can explain,” went on Watson. “There’s a Lord’s sight -more he can’t. When you’ve lived as long as I have, Dickie, alone a big -three-fourths of the time, maybe you’ll be like me and not try to look under -things for the <em>why</em> so long’s you know the <em>what</em>.</p> - -<p>“I know now you and me are on the likeliest trail I ever put one foot down in -front of the other on. And I know it’s my last trail! It’s ‘So long’ for you and -me, pardner. And I’m going to know real soon what’s on the other side of -things.”</p> - -<p>Dick Farley sought a light rejoinder with which to meet an old miner’s -superstition, but he could find no words. So again there was silence between -them until Watson once more spoke:</p> - -<p>“I killed them three men in fair fight, Dickie, and with the right o’ things on -my side. And it ain’t ever once bothered me. And now the funny part of it—I -ain’t so much as thought of one of them men for a month.</p> - -<p>“You know we got too much to think about, you and me, with the trail leading us -straight to more gold—our gold—than would sink a battle-ship. And today? Well, -when the sun shines in my eyes, and I wake up slow, I’m kinder dazed for a -little while, and while I can’t get my bearings I’m back in the South Sea -country with Ben, the sailorman. Just as plain as I’m seeing you now, Dick, I -saw him. Twisted thumb and all—and I hadn’t thought about that twisted thumb -from that day over thirty years ago until this very morning! And all day I’ve -been walking first with Ben and then with Flash DeVine, and then with Perry -Parker, as did for poor old Tom Richards.”</p> - -<hr class='tb' /> - -<p>He broke off suddenly, sitting lurched forward, his eyes meditatively upon the -fire. Then he continued:</p> - -<p>“A man that didn’t know would think it was all nonsense. But most men that live -in the way-out places of the earth, and who’ve took men off, fair and square—or -with a knife from behind; it makes no difference—would know what I know. I don’t -know the <em>why</em>, pardner. And I don’t care why. You’ll be looking for a new -side-kick before Summer dies.”</p> - -<p>Dick stirred uneasily. Again he sought for a light, bantering reply. But the -words did not come. A strange sense of fatality had crept slowly over him.</p> - -<p>He tried to tell himself that he was listening to the expression of an old -miner’s superstition, that the thing was an absurdity. And while he refused to -give credence to a thing which he could not understand, he had an odd sense that -he and Johnny Watson were not alone. Unconsciously he drew a bit closer to the -fire and to the man who was “seeing things.”</p> - -<p>“And this here the likeliest trail I ever set foot down on,” said the older man, -with nothing but a vague regret in the even tones. “Just two more days and we’re -there—maybe together and maybe you finish the trail alone, pardner. It’s a month -ago I picked up that first big yellow lump. The whole mountainside is rotten -with gold! And then I come back and picked you up like we’d said we would, you -wearing your shoes out on flinty rocks where a man wouldn’t find a color in -seven lifetime. And now we’re in two days of it, and——”</p> - -<p>He didn’t finish, breaking off with a long-drawn, deep breath. His pipe had gone -out and he leaned forward, picking up a blazing bit of dry pine which he held to -the blackened bowl. Dick Farley noticed that the bronzed, lined face was very -calm, the eyes somewhat wider opened than usual, the fingers upon the fagot as -steady as should be the fingers of a man without nerves.</p> - -<p>“Johnny—” Farley was speaking at last, with an effort, keeping his tones as -steady as his partner’s—“you are right when you say that there are some things -which we can’t explain. But it’s up to us to explain what we can, isn’t it? You -haven’t thought of those men for a long time, and now they flash up before you -all of a sudden, and clear. Can’t it be that I have happened to use some -expression that Ben used, or that some sound from the woods about us, or some -smell or even an odd color in the sunset——”</p> - -<p>“That’s like you, Dickie. Fight until you’re in the last ditch, and then go on -fighting!” Watson shook his head. “No, that ain’t the right explanation this -trip. I’ve seen them three men today. I’ve seen Flash DeVine jerk up his head -with a little funny sort of twist to the left like he always used to, and I’ve -seen the red spot by Parker’s ear. I’d clean forgot them little things, Dick. -No, pard’. There’s no use trying to explain. I got to thinking about it this -noon while you was staking out the horses, and I made a little drawing you can -use if I pass out before we get to the place. It’s on a cigareet paper, and I -poked it inside old Shaggy’s saddle-blanket. And now, boy—” standing up, his -shoulders lifted and squared—“good night. If it happens I don’t see you any -more——”</p> - -<p>He put out his hand suddenly. Young Dick Farley gulped down a lump in his throat -as he gripped Johnny Watson’s fingers. For a moment they stared into each -other’s eyes—then Watson turned away abruptly and with no other word went to his -blankets.</p> -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> -<h2 id='ch_II' title="Forward"> -<span>CHAPTER II</span><br />FORWARD</h2> - -<p>It was Johnny Watson’s voice swearing at old Shaggy that awoke Dick Farley in -the early dawn. Farley stared upward through the still tree-tops at the gray -morning, his mind groping for the unpleasant something of last night. And when -he remembered he smiled, thinking how he would chaff his partner about his night -fears and his dead men.</p> - -<p>But when he caught a swift glimpse of the deep-set eyes under the shaggy -gray-sprinkled brows, the bantering remarks which were trooping to the end of -his tongue were left unuttered. In a blind sort of way he realized that the -thing which had come upon Johnny Watson yesterday had not left him. Those eyes -were looking out upon death calmly, expectantly, a bit reluctantly, but not with -fear and not with rebellion. Farley said nothing as he turned away and went down -into the creek-bed to wash his hands and face.</p> - -<p>Over their breakfast of coffee, bacon and flapjacks the two men talked lightly -of this and that, with no mention of last night. When Watson had finished he -began speaking of the day’s work into the cañon. He told briefly where they -would leave the creek in three or four hours, where they would find water for -the noon camp, where more water and grass for the evening camp.</p> - -<p>“Tonight—we ought to be there by six—we get over the ridge and into the Devil’s -Pocket country. There’s just one way to get out of that country, Dick, and -that’s the way we’re going in. If a man looks for a short cut, if he goes -skallyhooting east or west, north or south of the place where our trail is going -to cut into the basin there, he’s a goner.</p> - -<p>“If you leave this trail on the way back you’re going to run out of water first -thing, and your horse is going to break his leg, if it ain’t his neck, the next -thing; and then you die because you can’t pick up another waterhole. I was in -that country more’n a dozen years ago. There was three of us. Me being lucky in -them days, I got out. The others didn’t. And I ain’t never been back until I -took a whirl at it last month.”</p> - -<p>The morning sun had not yet peeped down into the steep-walled ravine in which -their course lay when the two men led their pack-horses out of its shadows, -along the higher bank upon the right, and upon the little bench land there. They -moved swiftly, with long swinging strides, and as Watson had said, within three -or four hours they left the creek entirely, moved eastward through a cut in the -mountains which rose steeply against them, and found what might once have been a -trail.</p> - -<p>Conversation had died. Watson was in the lead, at times hidden from his -companion a hundred yards in advance. Then came the two horses. And in the rear, -his brain leaping from the talk of last night to Watson’s accounts of the place -where “the whole side of the mountain was rotten with gold,” to wondering about -this Devil’s Pocket, Dick Farley followed silently.</p> - -<p>They camped a little at noon by a spring which Watson had marked upon his map, -and rested for a couple of hours. The older man, unostentatiously and without -effort at concealment, unlimbered the two heavy revolvers at his belt and looked -to them as a man does when he expects he will use them.</p> - -<p>“The cards ain’t played yet, Dick,” he said. “And if it don’t come too -onexpected, we’re going to give ’em a run for their money, old timer.”</p> - -<p>During the silent hours of the afternoon Farley strove to keep his partner -always in sight, hurrying up the lagging horses, keeping them at Watson’s heels. -And, although he still told himself that he did not and would not believe in -this senseless superstition, he carried all day a forty-five-caliber Colt.</p> - -<hr class='tb' /> - -<p>All day they drove steadily into the mountains. For ahead of them was the thing -which had called to them across the miles of wilderness, which, since the world -was young, had drawn men into hardship, exile and often enough to death—soft, -yellow, crumbling gold! And it was almost eight, and dark in the narrow pass, -when Watson called out and Farley pushed by the horses to his side and looked on -the site for their camp—“the last camp this side the strike.”</p> - -<p>It was a spring which bubbled out clear and cold upon a little flat hardly -bigger than the barroom at the Eagle Hotel. And oddly, there was no creek -flowing from it to mark its whereabouts. For the water ran a scant ten feet -westward and sank into a great fissure in the rock.</p> - -<p>“We’ll eat first,” said Watson when the two men had drunk. “The moon’ll be up -pretty quick. Then I’ll show you something—what the Devil’s Pocket country looks -like.”</p> - -<p>The day had died slowly. It did not grow dark, for with the rising evening -breeze the full moon climbed up through a tangle of fir-tops and barren peaks, -its strong white light driving all but the most valiant stars from the sky. -Watson knocked the dead ashes out of his pipe and got to his feet.</p> - -<p>“Come ahead, Dick. We’ll take a look at where we’re going. Where a good many men -have been—and not many come back.”</p> - -<p>They climbed from the trail along a spine of rock to a black spire, rising clear -of the scanty brush. To the very top of the sloping rock they worked their -cautious way until their two gaunt bodies stood outlined against the sky. Here -they found footing, and here Watson stood with arm flung out, pointing. Dick -Farley was not unused to the thousand moods of the mountain places, and yet as -his eyes ran along the pointing arm, and beyond it eagerly, he muttered his -startled admiration.</p> - -<p>The moon, full, round and yellow, had floated clear of the distant ridges and -hung in rich splendor above a long, narrow, twisting valley, the Devil’s Pocket. -Trees, hills, peaks and ravines stood out in the soft light, black and without -detail. The floor of the winding valley took upon itself many shifting shades, a -dark silver-gray here where there was a strip of sandy soil, a more somber -splotch there where the willows followed a thin thread of a stream.</p> - -<p>“There she is!” Watson exclaimed. “That thread of willows marks the only creek -in the valley. It runs from a big spring like ours here, and the lake drinks it -up. They call the lake ‘The Last Drink.’ We’ll walk fifteen minutes before we -get to it. We hit the southeast shore just about where you see that little bay -with the cliffs coming down close. There’s a trail along the base of them -cliffs; we follow that worse’n six miles fu’ther. And when we’re there, Dickie -boy, we’re right on top of the biggest goldmine——”</p> - -<p>His voice broke off sharply, and he turned his back to it all. Dick heard him -move back down to the trail. With his eyes filled with the panorama below him -Dick’s thoughts drew back from the trail and the ore at the end of it and -followed the man who had found the thing, the precious thing which they had so -long sought, and who had turned back for his partner that he, too, might have -his share.</p> - -<p>And again he told himself that his fears of last night, which had been growing -all day, were groundless, senseless—that Johnny Watson could not be in danger of -death.</p> -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> -<h2 id='ch_III' title="Farley Makes a Vow"> -<span>CHAPTER III</span><br />FARLEY MAKES A VOW</h2> - -<p>Before he climbed down the way Watson had gone, Dick Farley again turned his -eyes along the trail which was to lead him tomorrow to the Cup of Gold. His -wandering fancies built a golden dream future. Then he turned back and climbed -slowly down to the trail.</p> - -<p>The fire was dying upon the little rocky ledge where he had built it an hour -ago. Beyond the camp-fire, where he had flung his blanket at the base of the -cliff, Johnny Watson was already lying. Farley swept up his own blanket from the -ground and, stepping around the fire, flung it down close to Watson’s.</p> - -<p>“I don’t believe in your premonitions, pardner,” he said with a little laugh. -“But if they get one of us they’ll have to take two. Here’s where I pitch my -tent.”</p> - -<p>Johnny Watson made no answer. He was already asleep. Johnny never wasted time in -wakefulness when he had turned in.</p> - -<p>Farley straightened out his blankets, jerked off his heavy boots and socks and -lay down, his elbow close to Watson’s. And so he went to sleep.</p> - -<p>Something awoke him; it might have been the moon, shining full in his face. He -rolled over upon his side, shifted his wide-brimmed hat to shield his face from -the light, and still he did not go back to sleep. He felt restless, -uneasy—inexplicably uneasy. Those confounded things Johnny had said last night -wouldn’t leave him. There was no sound; not a ripple upon the surface of the -night’s silence save the murmur and trickle of the water. He should be able to -hear the horses—the chain on old Shaggy’s halter.</p> - -<p>He sat up. Doing so, he put his right hand on the ground beside him, beside -Johnny Watson. He felt something damp, spongy, and sticky. He lifted his hand, -staring at it in the moonlight. There was a dark stain. He put it to his -nostrils.</p> - -<p>“Good God!” he cried aloud. “Johnny! Johnny!”</p> - -<p>And then when Johnny Watson did not answer, he did not need to look. He knew -Johnny Watson was dead—dead at the side of his partner who had slept!</p> - -<p>The young man staggered to his feet and stared wildly around. Each rock and tree -and bush stood out clearly in the moonlight with its shadow flung out very dark -and very distinct. His revolver was rigid in the tense steel of his grip. There -was nothing, there was no one. And yet, while he slept, some one had crept upon -his partner.</p> - -<p>He turned to where Watson lay. And suddenly, as he saw how the man was lying, -the way an arm lay at his side, the other arm flung out, the truth came upon -him; and without looking at the wound he knew that death had not come upon -Watson while the two men lay side by side.</p> - -<p>It had come while Farley stood alone upon the top of the cliff staring out into -Devil’s Pocket, dreaming! For as Watson lay now, so had he lain when Farley came -down to him. He had been dead when his partner called to him, saying they would -sleep side by side!</p> - -<p>“While I was up on the rock,” Farley muttered dully, “they got him.”</p> - -<p>He stooped low over the prostrate body and gently, tenderly, he moved it so that -it lay face-up. The moonlight showed well how Johnny Watson’s death had found -him. At the side of his bared neck was a cut such as a broad-bladed knife would -make, a great gash, two inches long. Just one blow had been struck, just one -such blow needed.</p> - -<p>Farley got slowly to his feet and for a little stood looking down into the dead -man’s face. And the face of the man who looked into the dead eyes was as oddly -quiet and calm.</p> - -<p>“They got you, Johnny,” Farley was saying in a voice void of expression, “with -me in calling distance— Oh, Johnny!”</p> - -<p>For a moment he stood, his face sunk into his two brown hands. And then suddenly -he whirled about, his head lifted, his arm dung out, shaken with a frenzy of -rage.</p> - -<p>“My pardner—you’ve murdered my pardner!” he shouted. “And I’m going to find you -out! I’m going to kill you!”</p> - -<p>Then he suddenly calmed as he realized that he was alone in the mountains, a -week’s travel from the nearest mining-camp, alone with his dead partner. He -moved back from the ledge and into the shadow, where he sat down upon a broken -boulder. All at once a thing which he had forgotten swept back over him—the -horses! He had missed the noise of their crunching, he had failed to hear the -jingle of old Shaggy’s tie-chain!</p> - -<p>He sprang to his feet and ran down into the little clearing where they had tied -the two pack-animals. They were gone, both gone. He stumbled over one of the -pack-saddles with its load. There had been no time to take that. But the other, -old Shaggy’s saddle, was missing.</p> - -<p>Slowly he made his way back to the little ledge where Johnny Watson lay. Again -he sat down upon the bit of boulder, and lighting his pipe pulled at it -steadily, staring down into the quiet cañon. He could not follow tracks until -morning.</p> - -<hr class='tb' /> - -<p>With the first glint of the new day he buried Johnny Watson.</p> - -<p>For a moment Dick stood hat in hand, looking at the little mound of earth which -he had made and piled high with stones. And then he turned and, walking swiftly, -strode back to the spot where the horses had been staked.</p> - -<p>There was no difficulty in picking up the trail. Upon that rugged, rocky -mountainside the murderer, if he had taken the two horses with him, must have -moved eastward and into the Devil’s Pocket, or in a direction leading -southwesterly over the trail which Farley and Watson had come yesterday. He -could not have scaled the cliffs above, he could have made no progress through -the dense brush of the deep-cut ravine below.</p> - -<p>For a moment Farley hesitated between going forward toward the little mountain -valley and turning back. Then the thought came to him that he could hope to -learn what he sought to know by going forward, quicker than by swinging back -toward the southwest. For if the two horses had gone eastward, it would be -easier to pick up their trail than upon the path which they had cut up -yesterday. If there should be any fresh tracks leading into the Devil’s Pocket, -that would settle it. And not ten minutes later, having followed the stony trail -until it dipped a little into a bit of soft soil in a hollow, he found the -tracks—fresh tracks made by two shod horses.</p> - -<p>Then he went back to last night’s camp, made himself a small pack of bacon and -coffee and flour; and taking no useless thing, no blanket even to interfere with -the free swing of his body, he turned east and struck out swiftly.</p> - -<p>He followed the trail for a mile, saw how it wound in and out, climbing and -dipping, worming slowly toward the pocket. And then, when he had been assured -that the two horses were ahead of him, he left the trail and fought his way due -east, up the face of a steep bank and to the crest of the bleak mountains. He -remembered Watson had told him that following the trail they would have to go a -good fifteen miles to travel ten, and now he sought a short-cut to head off the -man he followed. He knew that he would pick up the trail again in the valley.</p> - -<p>Hour after hour he trudged on, his face whipped by tangled brambles in the -cañons, his hands torn by the crags over which he continued to climb toward the -top of the ridge.</p> - -<p>At last, about the middle of the forenoon, he came to the top of the narrow -divide. From an outjutting crag he looked down into the valley before him, -seeing again the winding course of the creek, the little lake, the steep -mountain walls and gorges. Here he stopped long enough to choose the way he must -go to make the best time. And then with one long look back toward the slope -where the lone cedar flung its twisted branches over his partner, he turned -again eastward and plunged down into the steep cañon, down into the Devil’s -Pocket.</p> -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> -<h2 id='ch_IV' title="Farley Takes a Tumble"> -<span>CHAPTER IV</span><br />FARLEY TAKES A TUMBLE</h2> - -<p>ON THE floor of the Devil’s Pocket Dick Farley came upon the trail again as he -had foreseen. Where it ran from the ridges across the creek he found tracks. He -drank first and then studied them. And slowly there came a frown into his eyes, -and then a look of pain.</p> - -<p>For there were the tracks of one horse, and of a man’s boot-heels in the soft -wet soil—tracks a month old, the tracks which Johnny Watson had left when he -drew out of the valley to find his partner.</p> - -<p>Back and forth Farley moved, stepping slowly by the side of the path, searching -long and carefully for the fresh signs to tell him that two horses had passed -here during the night or in the early morning. He did not find them. But a -moment later, at the very edge of the stream, close to the spot where he had -just flung himself down to drink, he found that another man had lain there -drinking. He saw the prints of the heavy boots, saw that they had come from the -west; that the man had crossed the stream here, stepping over the mere thread of -water, and had pushed on toward the northern end of the valley. And the horses?</p> - -<p>Dick had no doubt this was the man he sought. For some reason he had left the -horses in the hills, hidden in some steep-walled cañon.</p> - -<p>Again Farley pushed on, following the trail, seeing now and again the outline of -the heavy boots where the soil was moist or dusty. In a little he ceased to look -for the tracks, excepting at long intervals, for they led straight ahead, -keeping to the path through the wiry grass, straight toward the lake. At noon he -stopped to eat and smoke his pipe. And then again he pushed on.</p> - -<p>He was tired now, but he gave no respite to the muscles which had been greatly -taxed after a night of wakefulness.</p> - -<p>Finally, a little after noon, he came to the lake shore, where the trail ran -close to the water’s edge, and at the base of the cliffs which rose a -perpendicular twenty feet here, fifty feet there. And when he had drunk of the -clear, cold water and had turned from looking out across the mile of dimpling -crystal, mountain fringed, he made a discovery, a discovery which came very -close to costing him his life.</p> - -<p>Rising straight up through the clear air above the cliffs at his side was a thin -wisp of smoke, such as climbs upward from a little camp-fire. His heart beat -quickly at sight of it. It was back from the cliffs maybe a quarter of a mile, -he judged. There must be a sort of tableland up there. There he would find the -man he had followed. He saw that the tracks had come to the lake here ahead of -him; that they continued northward along the shore. But again he left them, -again to make a short cut, and began working his way up along the cliff-side. -Clinging with his fingers to seams and crevices, driving the toes of his boots -into the cracks which they could find, he drew painfully, slowly toward the top.</p> - -<p>He was already so close to the edge above that he could almost reach it with a -hand thrust up as far as he could reach, with fifteen feet between him and the -ground below. He was straining every muscle, his face tight-pressed to the -rocks, reaching up for the rough hand-hold which just defied him, when he was -startled by a sound coming clearly to him from below—the unmistakable sound of -the dip of a paddle.</p> - -<p>He saw the trap he had blundered into. As he was, he could not turn, could not -draw a gun from his belt. There he was, clinging to the face of the cliff, a -mark to be seen from across the lake, with no hope of being overseen by the man -who in a moment would drive a canoe around the rocky point a few yards away, who -could shoot him in the back as easily as lift a finger.</p> - -<p>Again he strained upward, and at last he succeeded in grasping the rock which -protruded from the edge above, and drew himself up. Then he heard a cry from -below, a cry as of warning; the rock came away in his hand, he clutched wildly -to save himself, then plunged headlong, twisting as he fell. As his body had -struck he felt a swift-driven pain through his head, and lost consciousness in a -black nothingness.</p> - -<p>Luckily for him the fall had been broken for he had twisted his body so that a -part of his solid weight struck upon his shoulder. For life was still in him, -and came back little by little. He tried dizzily to lift his head and could not. -But he could turn a little to the side so that he could see the lake. There was -the canoe, its paddle floating in the water. And coming toward him....</p> - -<p>It was all so vague; he was so dizzy, the blackness wavered so like a misty veil -in front of his eyes! For a little he would not believe that his mind was clear -yet, that he was not wandering. For coming toward him was a girl; a girl clad in -rough, coarse cloth, made into a short skirt and sleeveless blouse; a girl whose -long braided hair was scarcely a deeper, richer brown than her bronzed cheeks, -as brown as an Indian maid, but with great, fearless gray eyes. She came swiftly -to his side and dropped down upon her knees, flinging back the thick braid which -had brushed across his breast.</p> - -<p>“I tried to call, to tell you!” she was saying, her low-toned voice coming to -him clearly through the singing in his ears. “Are you very badly hurt?”</p> - -<p>He didn’t answer at once, but stared up at the fresh, girlish beauty of her, -frowning to clear the mist from his eyes, telling himself that it was -impossible.</p> - -<p>She leaned closer and put her quick light hands upon his head. He felt a little -shudder run through them. And then, before he could speak, she sprang up, ran to -the lake and came back to him with water in her two hands. She bathed the cut, -washed the blood away and, ripping a strip of cloth from the hem of her skirt, -tied it about his head in a rude bandage.</p> - -<p>“I thought—” he began, groping for words.</p> - -<p>“Yes, yes!” she broke in. “You could not know how crumbling, how treacherous to -the climber those rocks are up there. I tried to warn you. Are you very much -hurt?”</p> - -<p>“No, I don’t think so,” he answered, still frowning. And then, “You—where did -you come from?”</p> - -<p>She laughed, sitting back from him—her hands clasped about her two knees, her -chin tip-tilted, a glimpse of her round throat telling that the bronze and -copper of her coloring were not racial, that the slender body was of wonderful -white and pink.</p> - -<p>“No, you’re not badly hurt. Or you wouldn’t be wondering about other folks!”</p> - -<p>With an effort of will he drew his eyes away from her and turned them out across -the lake. He had come to find a man, the man who had killed his partner; and -instead, this was what he had found. This Naiad of a creature who was no shy -backwoods lass, tongue-tied and blushing, but who looked at him with clear, -amused eyes.</p> - -<p>Was Johnny Watson wrong about this Devil’s Pocket, after all? He had said that -few men ever came into it; that they never came back; that they never lived -here. Then how came this sparkling, radiant woodland maid here? Where had she -come from now in her light canoe? Where was she going? Were there others?</p> - -<p>Slowly his eyes came back to her.</p> - -<p>“I didn’t know any one lived here. I thought——”</p> - -<p>“Then what brought you here?” she asked.</p> - -<p>“I came looking for—some one.”</p> - -<p>And then, realizing that this statement contradicted the one he had just made, -he said by way of explanation:</p> - -<p>“I meant that I did not know that womenfolk ever penetrated so far into the -wilderness. Miners, I know, lone prospectors, get into all corners of the -earth.”</p> - -<p>“And womenfolk?” she challenged him. “Are there then any places where men have -led that their womenfolk have not followed them?”</p> - -<p>He again tried to sit up, but sudden blackness swept upon him and he fell back. -The gleam of amusement went as swiftly from her eyes, which were once more -deeply womanly, intensely feminine and soft. Her cool hand was upon his -forehead, pushing back the tangled hair, smoothing it; and her voice, cooing, -tender, came to him like a whisper out of a dream:</p> - -<p>“You are hurt, badly hurt! Don’t try to move. Just rest; be very still.”</p> - -<p>Once more she sprang up and ran to the lake shore to bring water in his hat. She -wet his forehead, readjusted the bandage and let a little trickle of water run -upon his wrists. In a moment he opened his eyes to look up at her, forcing a -smile to meet her anxious gaze.</p> - -<p>“Can you tell me,” she said softly, “where you are hurt? You can’t move?”</p> - -<p>“I’ll try again in a minute. It’s my whole side, the right side.” He glanced down -toward his hand. “I think the wrist is broken. I got it caught under me as I -fell. I can’t move it.”</p> - -<p>“It is swollen already,” she told him after a brief inspection. “Poor fellow, -how it must hurt!”</p> - -<p>Then as professionally as a trained nurse might have done it she moved her hand -down along his side.</p> - -<p>“Where does it hurt most?” she queried, her eyes upon his. “The shoulder, isn’t -it?”</p> - -<p>“Yes. Just a bad bruise, I think.”</p> - -<p>“I hope so. Now, do you think that after a while, when you have rested a little, -you can manage to walk? Just a few feet?”</p> - -<p>“Yes. But where’ll I walk to?”</p> - -<p>“Just to the boat. And I’ll take you the rest of the way.”</p> - -<p>“And the rest of the way?” he asked curiously.</p> - -<p>“You are a mighty inquisitive creature for a patient!” she smiled. “Where do you -suppose? Home, of course!”</p> -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> -<h2 id='ch_V' title="The Girl from the Lake"> -<span>CHAPTER V</span><br />THE GIRL FROM THE LAKE</h2> - -<p>Dick rested for a long time. Then leaning upon the girl’s firm shoulder, he got -to his feet and moved slowly with her to the boat. When he had sunk in a huddled -heap in the narrow craft, his pulses beating wildly, his head whirling, he began -to realize he had a great deal besides a scalp wound and a broken wrist to -reckon with.</p> - -<p>With a swift flash of a glance at his white lips and the little drops upon his -forehead, the girl stepped into the boat, took up the paddle and pushed out into -the lake. And under her strong hands the canoe shot through the water, headed -for the north end of the lake and for a little cove, cliff-bound.</p> - -<p>Dick half slept as the canoe sped on and on. Finally he roused as they rounded a -rocky point, flashed by a little green cove into which a narrow spray of water -fell from the cliffs above, skirted a dense pine grove, and turned suddenly into -a second tiny bay, sandy-beached. The canoe, its slender nose thrust into the -pebbles and white sand, held there, swaying gently. Before Farley could move, -the girl was out, standing in the shallow water, her left hand steadying the -boat while her right reached out to help him.</p> - -<p>“If you feel strong enough, it’s only a little way, and you will rest better.”</p> - -<p>Ashamed of his weakness in the face of her confident young strength, he got to -his feet. Already it was a harder thing for him to stand than it had been ten -minutes ago. His right shoulder, side and arm were utterly useless. His leg, -when he put a little of his weight upon it, pained him so that with his lip -caught sharply between his teeth it cost him much to keep back a cry of agony.</p> - -<p>But in the end, leaning upon her, her arm tight about him, he got into the water -and to the strip of sand. Looking anxiously for some sort of camp, he saw ahead -only a thick grove of pine and fir like the one they had passed, and the sheer -cliffs beyond.</p> - -<p>“I think,” she was saying to him, “that if you rest again you will only be the -stiffer, sorer for it. Can you manage to walk a little further?”</p> - -<p>He nodded. And now he staggered on with his guide and into the trees. And when -at last she stopped he again looked up, expecting to see the camp. Instead, he -saw that they had brought up at the edge of the level strip with the cliff-wall -in front of them.</p> - -<p>“We’re going up there,” she answered the puzzled look in his eyes. “It isn’t as -hard as it looks. Can you go a little further?”</p> - -<p>He nodded again painfully. So again they moved on, ten feet along the cliffs, -and came, unexpectedly for him, upon a great, gently slanting cut in the rocks, -into which bits of stone had been flung so as to make rude, rough steps. It was -harder now, slower; for he had to lift his left foot each time, while she helped -relieve the weight upon the other, and wearily pull himself up. Ten minutes -dragged by before they had climbed the twenty feet.</p> - -<p>Upon the top was a plateau perhaps a mile long, broken with trees and boulders, -five hundred yards wide. The fringe of trees and ragged cliffs upon the side -toward the lake hid the tableland completely from that direction. And, set -between two gnarled cedars, at the very edge of a dense bit of the forest where -it ran out from the sea of verdure like a cape, was a low, rambling log cabin, a -thin spiral of smoke winding up from its stone chimney. Here was “home.”</p> - -<p>The cabin had all the signs of age, discolored by many Winters, a vine a dozen -years old climbing over it. And Johnny Watson, who had known the Devil’s Pocket -for a quarter of a century, had said that no man ever lived here!</p> - -<p>But Dick Farley was in little mood for speculation. He stumbled on, conscious -only of the dizzy nausea which drove even the pain of his hurt side into a dim, -faraway background. After an endless groping through a thickening fog he knew -that they had stepped from the sunlight into the shade; felt rough boards under -his boots; felt that two arms, not just one, were tight around his body; knew -with a grateful, long-drawn sobbing breath that he was lying upon blankets.</p> - -<p>It was dusk in the cabin—twilight fragrant with the spicy odors dropping down -from the grove—when he found himself at first groping for reality in a confused -chaos of emotions and then gradually coming to full understanding. It was a -great, low-walled room, a rectangle of light marking the door, two squares -showing him the windows and a deep-mouthed fireplace crackling with a newly -lighted fire.</p> - -<p>Across the room from his bunk were a heavy little table and rough chair. His -eyes went slowly to the floor—over the squared saplings which went to make it, -across a bearskin, and to another door, smaller, lower than the other, leading -into another room. He tried to lift himself upon his elbow, and fell back -stabbed by the sharp pain in his shoulder. And then he turned his head quickly -toward the narrow door. Then he had heard a step.</p> - -<p>She came swiftly to him, looking down at him with her great eyes filled with -concern. When she saw the look in his she smiled, and sitting down upon the edge -of his bed put her hand upon his forehead.</p> - -<p>“You are better,” her rich voice was saying in a matter-of-fact way. “You’re not -so feverish, and you know where you are, don’t you?”</p> - -<p>“Yes. Much better.” He called up a twisted smile to meet hers. And then, “I have -been an awful nuisance.”</p> - -<p>“You mustn’t say such things——”</p> - -<p>But he insisted, looking steadily at her.</p> - -<p>“If you hadn’t happened along—if you hadn’t found me then, or soon—do you know -what would have happened to me? If I hadn’t died from my fail and exposure, I’d -have died pretty soon from starvation. Do you know that?”</p> - -<p>“I know,” she retorted with great mock severity, “that this is my case; you’re -my patient, and I’m the doctor and the nurse. And that you’re talking, while I -believe the proper thing for people who are sick is to lie still. Also, you’re -not going to die of starvation now. When I heard you stir, I was just making -some soup for you. For—I’m the cook, too!”</p> - -<p>When she had come back with a smoking bowl of broth, she set the thing down upon -the floor for a moment while she insisted on propping him up with pillows. She -shook her head at him when he opened his lips to protest, and thrust a spoonful -of the soup between them by way of further silencing him.</p> - -<p>“Good?” she demanded, when she had set the empty bowl down on the floor. “And -now, do you know I am afraid that I have about reached the end of my medical -knowledge! I’ve forbidden you to talk, and I’ve fed you some broth. What next?”</p> - -<p>“There’ll be nothing next. I’m going to be all right soon.”</p> - -<p>“Of course you are! But we must do something for your poor, hurt side. I have -some liniment——”</p> - -<p>“Just the thing,” he assured her. “I’ll give myself a good rubbing——”</p> - -<p>“You are very stupid,” she frowned at him. “You will do nothing of the sort. I -haven’t dismissed my case yet, have I, Mr. Man?”</p> - -<p>“You’re discharged, Miss Girl!” he grinned up at her. “And my other name is -Farley—Dick Farley.”</p> - -<p>“I won’t be discharged that way, and my name is Virginia Dalton, and you lie -right still, Dick Farley!” she laughed at him.</p> - -<p>And when she came back she made him lie upon his left side while she slit his -shirt from the shoulder down and bathed the bruised muscles with the stinging -oil. The wrist, swollen and ugly, she bandaged with soft white cloth. When she -had finished she sat back, flushed but triumphant, and nodded at him -approvingly.</p> - -<p>With the fire roaring in the deep fireplace, for cheeriness rather than from the -need of warmth, with a couple of misshapen, homemade candles upon the -mantelpiece, her chair drawn up facing the bunk upon which her guest and patient -lay—at her request he was smoking his pipe and enjoying it—Virginia Dalton at -last satisfied the man’s curiosity as well as she could.</p> - -<p>She and her father lived here together, had lived here for fifteen years. He had -brought her, a baby of four, into this wilderness with him, had built the cabin, -had made this home. Of the world outside she knew little more than she had known -when her father brought her here—perhaps less; as even the child’s images of men -and women and cities, and the things thereof, had been lost in the years. The -father had taught her, had brought with them a few books, had been always very -dear to her. She did not know why he lived here, away from his kind. He had -once, long ago, told her that his health demanded it. Of late they had not -mentioned the matter.</p> - -<p>“But,” she ended, with a flush of eagerness lighting her face, “it’s nearly -over! We’re going to leave soon; go back to the world where people are. Dear old -Daddy came in just this afternoon, a little while before I went down to the -lake, and I could see right away that something had happened. He didn’t say what -it was—he doesn’t say much at any time; but he told me that he was going out -again and might be gone all night; but that when he came back I could get ready -to go! Isn’t it glorious?”</p> - -<p>But Dick, to whom there had come a sudden fear, made no answer, frowning as he -lay back staring up at the rough rafters.</p> -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> -<h2 id='ch_VI' title="Virginia Gets a Letter"> -<span>CHAPTER VI</span><br />VIRGINIA GETS A LETTER</h2> - -<p>The night dragged by, bringing little sleep to Dick Farley, and Virginia -Dalton’s father did not return. It was the longest night Dick had ever known. -Hour after hour he sat propped up against the wall, the pillows behind him, and -smoked, staring out through the open door at the shadows the moon made. They -were deep black shadows, and his spirit was caught in them, strangely troubled. -But at last, when the tardy day was breaking, the spark in his pipe-bowl died -and he slipped down in his pillows and slept.</p> - -<p>When he awoke, the sun was flinging its light through the tree-tops into the -cabin. Nature’s was a soft mood this morning—smiling, fragrant, audible with -many low, harmonious woodland notes. And through the weave of still music, -rising suddenly, clearly, sweetly, a girl’s voice floated in to him in an old -song. He watched the open door expectantly.</p> - -<p>In a little while she came in, her voice hushed, walking tiptoe not to wake him, -a rod in one hand, a string of lake-trout swinging from the other. Her smile was -as gloriously a radiant thing as the morning itself when her eyes met his -expectant ones.</p> - -<p>“Good morning!” she greeted him, coming to his bedside. “Awake at last, are you? -I was afraid I should have to breakfast alone.”</p> - -<p>“Good morning,” he answered, his eyes filled with the rosy beauty of her -glorious youth. “You have been fishing already!”</p> - -<p>“I have been down to the lake—for my morning plunge primarily, to tell the -truth. And in the second place for something for my sick man to eat. Hungry?”</p> - -<p>As she went to set the rod in its place in the corner he looked after her -approvingly. Her hair hung as yesterday in two long braids, one flung over her -shoulder. Her brown arms were bare from the shoulder.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” he answered her, “I think I am hungry. While you are starting breakfast I -think I’ll get up——”</p> - -<p>“You’ll do nothing of the kind,” she retorted positively. “I’ll put a table -close to your bunk, and we’ll eat here. After breakfast, when the sun is a -little higher and it’s good and warm, maybe I’ll let you try to get up.”</p> - -<p>As she moved toward the kitchen with her string of fish, he called after her:</p> - -<p>“Your father? He hasn’t come in yet?”</p> - -<p>“No. But we’ll look for him before long. Dear old Daddy has dreadfully irregular -habits!”</p> - -<p>Then he heard her clattering with pots and pans, heard her singing broken -snatches of songs; and soon the aroma of coffee and the sizzling of the trout -told him that breakfast was ready. She came in then, removed the objects from -the table across the room—he saw with a little surprise that they were several -books carelessly scattered—pushed the table to his side, dragged her own chair -up to it, and brought in the fish and coffee and biscuits with tin cups, tin -plates, heavy iron knives, forks and spoons.</p> - -<p>“There is no sugar, no butter, no cream,” she laughed at him. “But you won’t -mind, will you?”</p> - -<p>While they ate she told him more of herself; how she fished, or used the rifle -to bring down a squirrel from a pine, or to get a deer, sometimes; how from her -lookout, a peak a mile behind the cabin, she mused over the pale, shifting -shades of daybreak or the vivid splashes of color in the west before the dusk -came; how she let her eyes go far out to the furthermost rim of the vague, -distant mountains and dreamed of the other side—the land of men and women, of -cities where the cañons were streets, and the peaks many-storied buildings. She -was not lonely because no one had taught her the word, because she had known no -existence but this. She did not know unrest, because she had not lived in -cities.</p> - -<p>“But sometimes,” with a sudden wistfulness, “there is something here which -talks; and I can’t quite understand it!” She pressed her two hands tightly upon -her breast. “When I have everything here, how can there be anything lacking? -When the world is so big, how can it seem so little? When the day is so filled -with good things, how can it seem so empty? When I am so happy, how can I be, -all of a sudden, so sad? When I am laughing, why do I want to cry——?”</p> - -<p>He told her, too, of his own life; of the schools he had gone to; of his work in -cities of the East; of the command to go West for his health as her father had -done; of the fever of gold. But he said no word of his partner—he could not -speak of that, yet. Nor did he mention the Cup of Gold, saying merely that he -had pushed into these mountains, into her valley, prospecting.</p> - -<p>“But you said,” she reminded him frankly, “that you were looking for some one?”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” he admitted, turning from her clear eyes to the door. “I will tell you -about that some other time.”</p> - -<hr class='tb' /> - -<p>He questioned her about her father; and she, glad to find other ears than the -inattentive ones of her woodland friends, spoke unreservedly.</p> - -<p>He was a wonderful man, this James Dalton, this “dear old Daddy.” A wonderful -man to look at: big, mighty of his hands, handsome, a full-bearded giant. With a -great tender heart, too, forgetful at all times of self, striving only for his -daughter’s good and happiness, doing all of the thousand and one little things -to please her, to make life run smoothly and brightly for her.</p> - -<p>He had filled the long hours with instruction, had taught her to read and write, -had read to her from the few books which had come with them into their exile. He -had drawn pictures of busy cities with their factories and hotels, their -churches and stores, and he had promised her that one day he would take her with -him to see these marvelous things with her own eyes.</p> - -<p>“And now,” she ended, her eyes luminous with the dreamings of a golden fairyland -whose gates were to be thrown open to her, “now we are going to see it all, very -soon.”</p> - -<p>She fell suddenly silent, looking beyond the far horizon where her fancies led -her.</p> - -<p>“It is worth being raised like this,” Farley was thinking, “just to be able to -walk out into the other life—the life filled with the things man has done. To -wander through it a little—and then to come back, to stay.”</p> - -<p>When all of the chill of the mountain morning had gone, drunk up by the warm, -thirsty sun, she allowed her sick man to get up. Farley found that his wrist was -more swollen, more painful than it had been last night, but began to hope that -there were no bones broken in it, that he had sprained it badly and that in a -few days it would mend itself. His right side was very nearly useless to him, -the shoulder, lower ribs and leg being sore and stiff; but with a cane which she -cut for him from a sapling in the grove he was able to hobble around slowly.</p> - -<p>He realized, as he worked his way unsteadily to the door, that it would be many -days before he could take up the trail which he had vowed over his dead -partner’s body to follow until he found its end.</p> - -<p>The morning passed, and they had lunch together out under the trees at the edge -of the grove. Still Dalton had not come in. But the girl seemed in no way -surprised, saying lightly that her father often was gone a day or so without -warning, that perhaps he had found and was following the tracks of a bear.</p> - -<p>“I am going for my mail,” she told him, laughing at his wonder. “Do you feel -strong enough to come with me?”</p> - -<p>“Mail?” he demanded incredulously.</p> - -<p>“Yes! There may be a letter from Daddy. The post-office is over yonder, across -the lake. If you think that you can walk down to the canoe, we can paddle over.”</p> - -<p>With the help of his cane, with the aid of her hand when they came to the rude -steps in the cliff side, he finally reached the edge of the lake where they had -left the canoe yesterday. Leaving him here for a little, she disappeared into -the trees and came back presently, carrying the light boat upon her shoulders.</p> - -<p>Helping him to get into it, she pushed out from the shore, jumped in and paddled -out into the water, heading straight for the western side a half-mile away. Upon -a little beach there, sandy and strewn with white pebbles she grounded the -canoe; and with a word to him to wait while she asked for her letter, hurried to -a big rock, flat-topped, set back a little from the water’s edge.</p> - -<p>Turning so that he could see what she did, she tossed toward him five pebbles -which she had picked up from the rock. And then she came back to him.</p> - -<p>“No letter?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“Didn’t you see it?” she laughed into his puzzled face. “Of course there was! -Daddy has gone over yonder,” pointing to the ridge of hills sweeping upward into -the westward mountains. “How do I know? Those pebbles were in a row, pointing -east and west, with the biggest one at this end, the littlest, our ‘pointer,’ at -the west end. And since there were five pebbles, he means to be gone about five -days. No, he didn’t add a postscript saying what he was going for. We need -sugar, and we need ammunition. Also—” with a little glance, purely feminine, at -her skirt—“I shall want a new dress!”</p> - -<p>“But,” suggested Farley, “there is no town, no camp near enough for him to get -those things and be back in five days?”</p> - -<p>“He is generally gone longer,” she admitted as she got back into the canoe and -pushed off. “But it doesn’t matter what he went for, does it? You’ll have to put -up with my sole company for the five days.”</p> -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> -<h2 id='ch_VII' title="After Five Days"> -<span>CHAPTER VII</span><br />AFTER FIVE DAYS</h2> - -<p>The days passed swiftly and pleasantly for them—too pleasantly, Dick Farley told -himself with something of bitterness. For what right had he to live from day to -day in this quiet haven, lured out of himself, out of his black lonesomeness for -his partner with that partner not a week dead?</p> - -<p>It was true that his bruised side must have kept him in a forced inactivity, -that he must have waited even as he was waiting. But he should have spent day -and night with his thoughts of “squaring things for poor old Johnny,” not in -wandering through the woods with a girl.</p> - -<p>He told himself, as he lay unsleeping in the quiet night, that he should go; -that he should go now that he could drag himself away from her; that he had no -right to stay longer. Yet, where should he go? To pick up the trail which he had -followed to the margin of the lake, and to follow it—where?</p> - -<p>Would it bring him, after miles of winding, back to the cabin perched upon the -tableland? Would he find at the end of that trail James Dalton, her father? -Where was Dalton now? Why had he gone away so suddenly? Why had he said to her -the other day, the day before Johnny was killed, that at last they could go back -into the world which so long ago he had left behind him? Had he killed Johnny -Watson? If not he, who then?</p> - -<p>If Dalton had killed Watson, then Farley must kill Dalton. There was no other -way; there could be no other way. He must kill the father of the girl who had -brought him here and cared for him, who had saved him from dying alone and -miserable—must kill her “dear old Daddy,” whom she loved so much, who had always -been so good to her, who was all that she had in the world.</p> - -<p>And to stay here made matters worse. To linger on in the home of the man whom, -perhaps, he was to kill; to listen to the ingenuous, happy voice of the -daughter; to grow to see how wonderful a thing Nature had built of this child of -the wildwood; to feel that day by day they were being drawn closer together, -that they were crossing a frontier which in a little they could not retrace——</p> - -<p>“If her father is the man who did it, have I the right to take her father from -her?” he muttered. And again, “Has the man who killed Johnny Watson a right to -live?”</p> - -<p>So those five days were short days, fleeing so swiftly for man and maid, filled -with sunshine and the girl’s soft laughter and the vague promise of life. And -the nights were long nights for the man; crowded with ugly images, torn with -doubts, beset with threats of the future, thronged with questions to which he -could find no answer. Now there was nothing to do but to wait.</p> - -<p>But there was no waiting, no staying, into the path into which their feet were -wandering, Dick Farley’s and Virginia Dalton’s. It was the old, old story of a -man and a maid. And with the first great throb of understanding in the man’s -heart there came, too, a contraction and a pain, and he tore himself abruptly -from the girl’s presence and went to stand frowning toward the mountains into -which Dalton had gone. And her eyes, following him, were filled with a tender -light which was new to them, her lips parted in a half-smile, her breast rising -and falling rapidly. For into her heart, too, had come the throb, but not the -pain of the knowledge he had.</p> - -<p>It was the sixth day. They had been together so much; had talked of self and of -the other so frankly; had been so lost to the world and drawn close to each -other in the solitude of the still mountains; had come to find a new peace and -contentment as they were silent together watching the coming of the dawn, the -passing of the day, the slow voyages of the moon through clouds and stars; had -been so all-sufficient each to each that the short five days seemed like long, -bursting years when they looked back upon them. It was only natural that the -thing which was happening with them should happen.</p> - -<p>Now, upon the morning of the sixth day, the day which was to bring Dalton home, -their talk had died down suddenly. Farley had fallen into an abrupt silence, his -eyes refusing to come back to hers. And in a little the girl’s mood followed -his, and with a faint trouble in her eyes she moved about the cabin, as silent -as he. The forenoon passed; they lunched, with now and then a fitful burst of -conversation which ended wretchedly, forced and unnatural, and the afternoon -wore on. It was nearly dusk when James Dalton came home.</p> - -<p>He was a very big man, tall, heavy, broad of shoulder, and very dark; with sharp -black eyes under bushy brows, black hair and beard shot with gray. He came upon -them from the lake, walking swiftly, his rifle caught up under his arm. The girl -was sitting upon the doorstep, Farley upon a rock a few feet away. Dalton’s eyes -went quickly from the young man to his daughter, very keen, with a glint of -surprise in them.</p> - -<p>“Daddy!” the girl cried, running to meet him, throwing her two arms about his -neck. “So you have finally got tired of roving and have come back, have you?”</p> - -<p>He ran an arm about her, and then, with no reply to her bantering, demanded -quietly—</p> - -<p>“Who is that?”</p> - -<p>Farley was on his feet now, missing nothing that the big man said, no gesture he -made.</p> - -<p>“My name is Farley,” he returned for himself. “A miner. I came into this country -prospecting. Had a bad fall, and your daughter took care of me.”</p> - -<p>“Prospecting?” Dalton laughed unpleasantly. “Don’t you know, young man, that -this country, every foot of it, has been gone over and over during the last -twenty years, and nothing ever found? Prospecting!” He strode by Farley towards -the cabin, muttering, “So they come right under our nose and prospect!”</p> - -<hr class='tb' /> - -<p>As he went, Farley’s eager eyes saw the hunting-knife which swung unscabbarded -from his belt—a knife more than usually broad-bladed; and his heart sank. Little -as he liked the looks of this man, he had prayed that he prove to be innocent of -Johnny Watson’s blood. At the door Dalton stopped and swung about, looking -steadily, deep into Farley’s eyes.</p> - -<p>“When did you get here?” he asked shortly. “How long have you been here?”</p> - -<p>“I came five days ago—the day you left.”</p> - -<p>“Where did you come from?”</p> - -<p>“From the coast. Then from Three Sisters and the Yellow Queen country, where -I’ve been prospecting.”</p> - -<p>“What brought you in here? Don’t you know that this country has been combed over -a hundred times—that there is nothing here?”</p> - -<p>“I believed,” Farley retorted quietly, “that there was gold in these mountains. -Since my fall I have not had a chance to get about. So I haven’t learned yet -that there isn’t.”</p> - -<p>Virginia Dalton had stepped a little from her father’s side, and now stood with -troubled face looking from one man to the other. There was an atmosphere of -distrust, almost of open hostility, and she could not understand.</p> - -<p>Dalton turned slowly from Farley to the girl. As he moved the iron rigidity left -his face, the cold glint passed from his eyes. It was wonderful how the man’s -whole expression softened.</p> - -<p>“Come here, Virginia,” he said gently. “I want to talk with you a little. Mr. -Farley,” with grave courtesy, “will pardon us?”</p> - -<p>Farley bowed. Dalton, with his arm about his daughter, entered the cabin, -closing the door behind them, leaving the younger man alone with his doubts, his -suspicions, his fears. Their voices came to him, confused, indistinct. He -supposed that the father was asking all about this intruder in their quiet Eden; -whence he had come, what she knew of him and his purposes.</p> - -<p>Finally the door opened and Dalton stood on the threshold looking steadily out -at Farley.</p> - -<p>“I trust that you will overlook my rather scant courtesy in greeting a guest, -Mr. Farley.” The tone was open, frank, pleasant. “I am afraid that living a sort -of exile in the wilderness so many years has made me forget the social usages. -Will you come in for a pipe? We can talk things over.”</p> - -<p>“I think,” Farley replied, his eyes running past the broad form so nearly -filling the doorway to the form of the slender girl standing within the room, -“that I have already allowed myself to become a nuisance.</p> - -<p>“Miss Dalton has been very kind to me. But for her, I imagine, I should never -have come so easily out of my accident. Now I am able to be about again, and I -think that I’ll take up the thing which brought me here. I have some work to do. -But—” the two men’s eyes meeting again, each studying the other—“I shall see you -again before I leave the valley for good. And”—with slow significance—“I shall -tell you all about what brought me here before I go next time.”</p> - -<p>He lifted his hat to the girl, said a brief word of thanks and of good-by, and -limped away toward the lake. And his heart was very bitter as he went, and there -was little hope in him.</p> -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> -<h2 id='ch_VIII' title="Farley Follows the Trail"> -<span>CHAPTER VIII</span><br />FARLEY FOLLOWS THE TRAIL</h2> - -<p>Out of the few scanty details which seemed to him to have any bearing upon the -thing he sought to know, Dick Farley strove to piece together a chain of -evidence which his brain could accept as pointing to the guilt or to the -innocence of James Dalton. As he drew slowly away from the cabin and toward the -cliffs which fell away to the lake, he arranged in mind these things in a sort -of logical order:</p> - -<p>1. There must have been some strong motive for the killing of his partner. If -Dalton’s knife driven by Dalton’s powerful hand had caused Johnny Watson’s -death, what motive could have moved Dalton to the act?</p> - -<p>This point he considered a long time. It was possible that these two men had -known each other years before; that they had been enemies; that revenge had -steeled the murderer’s arm. But it did not seem probable. There was something a -great deal more likely.</p> - -<p>Could it not be that Dalton, although he denied the presence of gold in the -valley, had stumbled upon the same streak which Johnny had found a month ago—the -Cup of Gold? That he had discovered Johnny’s tracks, had foreseen that he would -return with pack-horses, and had killed him rather than that an outsider should -come into his valley and steal “his” gold? But why, then, had he not killed -Johnny’s partner as well?</p> - -<p>2. The crime had been committed with a knife, unusually broad-bladed. Dalton -wore such a knife.</p> - -<p>3. Something had made Dalton tell his daughter upon the day of the murder that -they were going to leave the Devil’s Pocket and go back into the world. What was -it? Did it have any bearing on the case? If not, it was one of those odd -coincidences which occur sometimes, and Farley did not believe very much in -coincidences.</p> - -<p>4. The man who had committed the crime had stolen the two horses, and had hidden -them somewhere in the mountains to the southwest of the valley. Dalton had gone -away into these same mountains and had been gone five days. Why had he gone? He -had not had time to reach any of the settlements; he had brought back no sugar, -no cloth.</p> - -<p>5. Dalton had lived many years in a seclusion which was very like hiding. He -looked the part of a man who had never had a sick day in his life. He was not -here because the doctors had sent him. He was a man of culture, a man who had -traveled and seen much of the world. He loved his daughter. Why, then, had he -suffered this long exile? Why had he made her endure it?</p> - -<p>These matters rose above other considerations in Farley’s mind. And in the end -he saw no way of arriving at any kind of certainty until he had gone back to -pick up the old trail; until he had found the horses; until he had seen if -Dalton’s tracks led to them and back from them to the cabin.</p> - -<p>He stopped for a moment at the top of the cliffs and turned to look back at the -cabin. He saw the girl standing there alone, her eyes following him; saw her -hand go up swiftly as he turned to wave to her; remembered what she had done for -him; saw again the clean heart and budding woman’s soul which she had not -thought of hiding, had not known how to hide from him. Lifting his hat to her, -he hurried down the cliffs and out of sight.</p> - -<p>“It would kill her,” he muttered. And then, his eyes grown suddenly hard as he -tried to shut her out of his mind: “Never mind, Johnny, old pardner. It’s all in -the cards, and we’ll play it out. If he did it, he’ll pay for it!”</p> - -<p>But when night came to him in the edge of the mountains and he sat brooding over -his camp-fire he could not drive her out of his wandering thoughts. He saw -justice on one hand, and loyalty to one’s partner; and on the other he saw the -face of a girl who was going to be happy, or broken upon her first great -sorrow—and it would be his act to decide her life for her. He bowed his head in -his two hands, caught powerless in the irony of fate.</p> - -<p>For a week Dick Farley sought, almost without rest to body and brain, to work -out the puzzle which had been set before him. He had gone almost back to where -he had buried Johnny Watson before he found the trail of the two stolen horses. -This he had followed away from the valley through narrow cañons, over rocky -passes, for two days.</p> - -<p>As he had known from his partner’s words, there was little water here. He -thought more than once that he would be driven back to replenish the bottle he -had carried with him. But the man who had driven the horses here had known the -country; and following the trail, turning with it north or south of its general -course, Farley found enough water in small springs and slender streams to keep -the life in him and make his progress possible.</p> - -<p>Fortunately the country was filled with small game, the quail, hare, grouse and -squirrels having more curiosity than fear, coming close enough for him to kill -with his revolvers what he required for food.</p> - -<p>He came at last upon the two horses in a small, steep-walled valley set like a -cup in the mountains. Here there was much rich, dry grass, and a narrow stream -wandering through it. With little trouble he found the pack-saddle where it had -been thrown into a clump of manzanitas. Remembering for the first time the map -which Johnny had told him was hidden in a saddle-blanket, he found it readily. -With a swift, cursory glance at it he put it into his pocket.</p> - -<p>“To get the horses where they were left in the main trail,” he muttered to -himself, “to bring them here, then to go back to the lake would take a man just -about five days—the time that Dalton was gone.”</p> - -<p>It was another point, a further link in the chain; but, like the other links, it -was not strong enough to bear the burden of certainty. He must find other -tracks—the tracks the man had made when he left the horses here. He must follow -them. If they led straight back over the hills to the lake, he would know. And -he had little doubt that he would find them, and that they would carry him once -more to the Dalton cabin.</p> - -<hr class='tb' /> - -<p>And now came the slowest, the hardest of his work. To follow the trail left by -two horses was comparatively simple. To track a man over these mountains, across -hard ground and dry gully, was another matter.</p> - -<p>It was certain that the man Dalton, or a possible other, had not gone back over -the same trail. It was devious, turning aside for steep cañons which a horse -could not climb but which a man could, full of many twists and turns. A man on -foot would take a shorter way. And until he knew beyond a doubt that that man -had been Virginia Dalton’s father, he could not tell whether to look upon the -eastern edge of the tiny valley for it, upon the western, northern or southern. -But believing more and more that the trail would lead toward the east, he looked -where he thought to find it.</p> - -<p>And in an hour after finding the horses he picked up the other trail—the tracks -made by the man who had brought them here. He saw the deep print of a boot-heel -in the moist soil along the creek, found another track a few feet farther on, -then another—all leading toward the east—toward Devil’s Pocket.</p> - -<p>A glance at the encircling hills showed him where the tracks must lead, where -there was a little nature-made pass, leading over their crests which a man might -follow; and he pushed ahead in that direction, positive that he would find the -tracks there if there were any loose soil to keep them. He saw readily that he -must leave the horses where they were for the present.</p> - -<p>It took him another hour to climb up to the gap in the hills. The darkness was -coming on, but there was light enough for him to see that the same heavy boots -which had left their imprint in the soft dirt by the creek had passed here. He -had done a long day’s work; his side was paining him again, the night was very -near. So he built his fire here and made his bed of fir-boughs.</p> - -<p>In the first light of the dawn he breakfasted and moved on once more toward -Devil’s Pocket. Everywhere underfoot was a thick mat of pine-needles, upon which -a man’s foot would leave no sign. But the natural pass in which he had camped -led straight on and into a cañon upon the other side of the little ridge; and -where the soil had sifted down from the cañon sides to lie here and there among -the rocks strewing the bottom of the ravine was the imprint of the heavy boots -again. Only infrequently stopping to assure himself that he was not going wrong, -he made what haste he could back toward the lake. And he had gone perhaps five -miles before he came upon a discovery which caused him to stop, frowning, -wondering.</p> - -<p>He was in a small clearing, sandy-floored. The tracks were here, still leading -east. But no longer was there the single trail. Here, plainly outlined, were the -prints left by two men. They were side by side, alike fresh, a very few days -old.</p> - -<p>Farley had just come down a long rocky slope into the clearing, and did not know -where the second man’s path had met the first. There was little use in going -back, in trying to find out. He sat down, filled his pipe and tried to make out -the meaning of this new complication. Who was this second man? Where had he come -from? Where was he going? Had he been with Dalton, or had he been trailing -Dalton, or had Dalton been following him?</p> - -<p>In the end he could not see that the new tracks made any great difference. If -the trail he was following led on to the lake, to Dalton’s cabin, the thing was -clear enough.</p> - -<p>Down the long slope of the mountainside from the clearing, into the rocky bed of -the ravine, the only logical way for a man to follow, and out into a miniature -valley below, he continued without looking for the tracks which he knew the -hard, broken ground would not show had he looked.</p> - -<p>It was two miles before he again found the boot-tracks in a bit of soft soil. -And here again had one man, only one man, passed. The other, the second, had -evidently turned aside across the rock-strewn side of the mountain—had gone on -his way, prospecting.</p> -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> -<h2 id='ch_IX' title="Farley Finds his Man"> -<span>CHAPTER IX</span><br />FARLEY FINDS HIS MAN</h2> - -<p>It was very quiet in Dalton’s cabin. Were it not for the figures which the -flickering firelight found out uncertainly, casting their grotesque wavering -shadows upon the floor and wall, one would have said that there was no living -thing there.</p> - -<p>Dalton sat hunched forward in his chair—his elbows on his knees, his big hands -knotted together, his eyes on the coals scattered across the stone hearth. Near -the door, standing erect, his eyes upon the still figure, his whole attitude -that of a man waiting, was Dick Farley. Now and then he turned his head a little -and looked sharply over his shoulder into the darkness outside as if he feared -interruption.</p> - -<p>“So,” said Dalton after a long silence, no part of his body moving save his -lips, his voice without expression. “So you’re his pardner. I was afraid so, all -along.”</p> - -<p>“Yes.” Farley’s answer was as quietly expressionless. “I was his pardner.”</p> - -<p>Dalton stirred in his chair. Farley’s body lost none of its rigid -motionlessness, but his hand, the right one, dropped quickly to his hip. Dalton -had reached for his pipe, filled it and lighted it with a coal which he picked -up in his fingers. Farley’s hand remained upon the grip of his revolver.</p> - -<p>“I’m sorry, mighty sorry,” Dalton went on, without looking up. And then, “Is -there anything else you want to say?”</p> - -<p>“I guess I’ve said about all. I came into this country with Johnny—my pardner. -We were looking for gold. We were interfering with no man. Johnny is dead, -murdered. It wasn’t even a fair fight. Who did it? I haven’t jumped at -conclusions. I probably would if it hadn’t been for—” he hesitated a fraction of -a second, during which for the first time Dalton glanced up swiftly at him—“for -Miss Dalton. I wanted to be sure. I tracked you from one end of the trail to the -other, to the cabin here. I think it’s pretty clear. So I came here to accuse -you of his murder.”</p> - -<p>It was the first time he had spoken so clearly. But the two men had understood -each other without this putting a name to a deed.</p> - -<p>“I don’t like that word, Farley,” Dalton cut in, his voice as expressionless as -before, his form as still. “You call him Johnny? Well, men’s names change often -enough out in this country for us not to quibble. I suppose he’s carried a good -many names since I saw him last.”</p> - -<p>“You knew him? A long time ago?”</p> - -<p>“Yes. I hadn’t seen him for over fifteen years, until——”</p> - -<p>He didn’t finish. Instead, he said after a moment:</p> - -<p>“And being his pardner, you are going to try to square things for him; to be -judge and jury and hangman; to kill the man who killed him? Well, every man is -his own court out here, where we are so far beyond the law. And when a man is -dead it is up to his pardner. That is the way you feel about it?”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” Dalton laughed mirthlessly. “We are beyond the law here—we are not beyond -the reach of justice. Justice—or revenge? It is hard to see one for the other, -sometimes! You want to kill me, then?”</p> - -<p>“There is no use talking that way, Dalton,” Farley frowned. “You have lived here -too long; you know too well what is the result of the thing which you have -done—you don’t deny it?”</p> - -<p>“Will it make any difference what I say?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know. I don’t think so.”</p> - -<p>“You are going to try to kill me,” Dalton continued. “That won’t help your dead -friend much, but you’ll do it just the same. I have no desire to be killed by -you or by any other man. But soon there is going to be another dead man here—you -or I? And Virginia! I wonder what she is going to do. That complicates matters, -but it doesn’t in any great degree alter them, does it? She’ll be back from the -lake pretty soon. We’d better get this over with, unless you’ll listen to a -proposition I’m going to make?”</p> - -<p>“What is it?”</p> - -<p>“That you let me tell you a story. Then that you give over your thoughts of -revenge—or justice—for tonight; and that tomorrow or the next day, as soon as I -can get things in shape for the girl so that if I am killed she will have a -chance with the world, we go out into the woods somewhere and—finish it.”</p> - -<p>“It can wait,” Farley replied, “until tomorrow.”</p> - -<p>Dalton inclined his head gravely.</p> - -<p>“Thank you. Now, if you will listen to my story. Won’t you sit down?” Farley -dropped to the chair at his side. “I had trouble in Richmond, where our home -was. I killed a man. Why, doesn’t matter to you. Unfortunately for me, I killed -that man in the presence of another who saw the thing done. That other man was -your pardner. He hated me as cordially as I hated him. In any court in the world -he would have sworn that it was cold-blooded murder, and his word would have -hanged me.</p> - -<p>“He would have lied when he said it, but he would have sworn it just the same. -As it was, I had to run for it. Virginia was a little baby, six months old. Her -mother—” his voice growing very hard—“was not strong. She died. I wasn’t with -her. I was being hounded from one place to the other; and the man who hounded me -when the whole thing would have been dropped, the man who was the real murderer -of my wife, was the man who made it necessary for me to run before what men call -justice. I did go back and get the baby. Then we came here.</p> - -<p>“Again and again, as the years rolled around, I got word from the world; each -time to hear that what the world had forgotten was not forgotten by the man who -was not satisfied in my exile, my loss of all the things which counted. He was -still looking for me, he still would stop only when he saw me given over into -the hangman’s hands. A few days ago I found that he had penetrated into this -wilderness. His prospector’s outfit did not mislead me. He was looking for me. I -was glad of it. I told Virginia that soon we were going back into the world from -which we had hidden so many long years. I killed him.”</p> - -<p>“You murdered him,” replied Farley coldly. “If you had given him a chance——”</p> - -<p>“How do you know I murdered him? How do you know I didn’t give him a chance?”</p> - -<p>“The hole in his throat—death came upon him suddenly, unexpectedly. He may have -been asleep, even.”</p> - -<p>“Talking about it doesn’t help.” Dalton spoke like a man bored with a worn-out -topic. “You are going to wait until tomorrow for your—justice? I have some -letters I want to write for Virginia to carry with her; I have some instructions -to leave her; I have a good deal to do. For, somehow—” he looked up with a -strange smile upon the tightened lips—“I imagine that you are going to come out -of this alive, and I’m going to come out of it—dead! You’ll wait until -tomorrow?”</p> - -<p>“I’ll wait.”</p> - -<p>Farley got to his feet. Dalton rose with him.</p> - -<p>“You’ll sleep here tonight?”</p> - -<p>“No. I’ll sleep outside—not far away,” meaningly.</p> - -<p>“Oh, I won’t run away,” laughed Dalton. “Good night!”</p> - -<p>Farley made no answer as he backed to the door and stepped swiftly outside. He -closed the door behind him, and strode rapidly away into the darkness. Of no -mind to sleep, he built a little fire of dead twigs and pine-cones, and sitting -upon a fallen log stared into the flames moodily.</p> - -<hr class='tb' /> - -<p>He had sat there, motionless, for five minutes when something impelled him to -look up. Standing a few feet from him, just without the circle of his firelight, -was Virginia Dalton. He rose quickly, took a step forward and stopped. He did -not at once speak, waiting for her.</p> - -<p>“So you have come back?” she said gently. “I have missed you.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I have come back.”</p> - -<p>“And you found what you wanted to find?”</p> - -<p>“I found what I was looking for. I don’t know that I wanted to find just that,” -he ended bitterly.</p> - -<p>She came slowly toward him until she stood in the firelight, so near that he -could have put out his hand and touched her. He saw the brown arms reflecting -the wavering fire, the dark braids, the full, round throat, her eyes even, deep -and earnest. And something he glimpsed in their quiet depths sent a quick pain -to his heart.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” she answered as if he had spoken. “I heard. I listened outside. I heard -every word.” She broke off, only her hands clasping each other tightly showing -him that the calmness of her still figure was forced over a tumult within. “And -so,” she barely whispered after a little, “you have come back to kill dear old -Daddy!”</p> - -<p>He moved back, away from her, back from the quiet misery in her eyes, making no -answer. And she came with him, step by step until he had stopped, and put her -hand upon his arm.</p> - -<p>“You have come back,” she repeated in the same lifeless tone, so different from -the glad note which he had so often thrill through her voice, “to kill Daddy. Is -that it?”</p> - -<p>“You heard,” he muttered heavily.</p> - -<p>“Yes. He killed your pardner.” She shivered and the hand upon his arm grew very -tense. “So you want to kill him. Will that do any good? It will make me very -miserable. It will take my father away from me—all I have. And will it do your -pardner any good?”</p> - -<p>“Why did you come?” he cried out fiercely. “You don’t understand.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t I understand?” She smiled at him—a wistful, wan little smile which hurt -him more than if she had cried out aloud. “I understand this much: that in all -the world I have but Daddy, and that he has been always so good to me, and that -you want to take him away from me!</p> - -<p>“I understand that you want to kill him because he killed your pardner, and that -it won’t do any good for you to kill him; it won’t bring your pardner back to -life, it won’t make him rest any easier. I understand that these things are not -for men to do, but for God. God sees better than we can see, and clearer and -deeper down into our hearts. And He would not do what you are going to do. He -would not take my Daddy away from me.”</p> - -<p>When he made no answer, finding no answer to make, she stood silent a little, -letting her head sink forward despairingly. And then, again lifting her eyes to -his, her lips, her chin quivering as she strove to make her faltering voice -firm:</p> - -<p>“Don’t you see that you will make it seem almost as if I had killed him, myself? -For if I had not brought you to the cabin you would never have found it, maybe. -If I had not thought you were a friend and brought you there, maybe you would -not have lived! Don’t you see?</p> - -<p>“Don’t you see?” Again, groaning aloud he had drawn back from her, and she had -come to his side once more, had again lain her hand softly upon his arm. “And -don’t you see something else? We were growing to be such friends, you and I, -Dick Farley. Didn’t I read right the things which you did not say that day you -went away, the things which were in your heart? Didn’t you see the things in my -heart, too? Didn’t you see?”</p> - -<p>He felt her hand tremble pitifully, saw the anguish written upon her young face.</p> - -<p>“We were going to be good friends—oh, such good friends! And now”—with a dry sob -as she put her face in her two hands and shook from head to foot with the storm -in her bosom—“and now you want to end it all, and to kill him!”</p> - -<p>For a blind moment he fought hard with the thing which she had thought was -friendship. And then, seeing her swaying there, seeing her mute misery, he put -out his arms and drew her close to him.</p> - -<p>“Friends!” he cried, his voice harsh in her ears, like the voice of a man in -anger. “Friends! Can’t you see that I love you—love you as a man can not love -his friends—as he can love only the one woman in all the world!”</p> - -<p>She lifted her face quickly to his, and through the tears glistening upon her -cheeks he could see a new look, a look of gladness and of hope.</p> - -<p>“Oh!” she whispered, drawing closer in the embrace of his arms. “I am glad! And -you won’t hurt him now; you can’t!”</p> - -<p>For a little he held her to him, tightly pressed, as if defying the world to -take her away from him. And then slowly his arms loosened and dropped to his -side. For again he had seen Johnny Watson’s face staring up at him through the -faint light of the dawn; again he realized that because she was Dalton’s -daughter, Dalton was none the less his partner’s murderer.</p> - -<p>“What is it?” she asked softly. “Isn’t it all right now?”</p> - -<p>“It is all wrong, Virginia, dear,” he said bitterly. “And this only makes it -more and more wrong. Don’t ask me anything more. Only go back to your father and -let me think things over. I—” his voice was hard and steady—“I don’t know what -is going to happen. I don’t think that I am going to kill him. Will you kiss me -good night, dear?”</p> - -<p>He watched her as she went slowly through the night, watched her as for a moment -she stood in the dim rectangle of light made by the open door, and then had only -the darkness and the shooting flames of his camp-fire about him.</p> - -<p>“Johnny!” he muttered when at last there was but a dead pile of ashes where his -fire had been. “If I don’t kill him—if he kills me instead—it will be all right, -won’t it, Johnny?”</p> -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> -<h2 id='ch_X' title="Justice"> -<span>CHAPTER X</span><br />JUSTICE</h2> - -<p>The day had come, and Dick Farley was firm and calm in his determination. But -the thing which the day was to bring need not come yet. There was no call for -haste, while there was an urge deep down in his soul to spend this day alone. He -turned his back upon the cabin and went, walking rapidly, down to the quiet -shore of the lake.</p> - -<p>Until now he had scarcely more than glanced at Johnny Watson’s map. The Cup of -Gold had seemed the small thing which gold is always when come the great, vital -issues of life. But now it was different; now he could see a reason in going on -over Johnny’s trail, in finding the hillside that was “rotten with gold.” This -was something which must be done before he looked into Dalton’s eyes again—for -the last time.</p> - -<p>A long, curving line along one side of the brown cigarette paper was marked in -painfully small letters, “East Shore.” A dotted line marked “Trail” ran along -this. “High Cliffs” indicated the spot where Farley had attempted to climb up to -the plateau, where he had fallen. The dotted line ran on by this, close to the -lake shore, and was marked “2 mile.” Then there was a little triangle with the -words “Big White Rock.” Here the dotted line swerved at right angles—to the -east—“200 paces.” Here was the word, “Cañon.” That was all upon one side of the -paper. Upon the other, written lightly was:</p> - -<p>“Enter mouth cañon. Go straight about five hundred yards. Climb dead pine-tree -leaning against east bank. Straight up to top of ridge. Follow ledge to cliff. -Look along bottom of cliff.” And that was all.</p> - -<p>Farley put the paper again in his pocket and turned north along the lake shore. -He had perhaps two miles and a half, maybe three miles, to go, and he was -growing anxious to see this mine which his partner had discovered.</p> - -<p>It was a simple matter to follow the trail, a natural path at the lake’s edge, -kept open by the deer and other woodland animals that came down to drink or -browse upon the long grass here. And before he had covered more than half of the -two miles he saw the “big white rock” which Johnny had marked for him, close to -the water, rising straight up from the level floor of the valley.</p> - -<p>Here, with a glance at his map to make sure that he was right, he turned -eastward, counting his steps. He had stepped off one hundred and twenty-five -when he stopped, frowning. For nowhere were the mountains far from the lake, and -already he had entered a cañon. And Johnny’s map had said two hundred paces.</p> - -<p>“Johnny wouldn’t make a mistake like that,” he told himself.</p> - -<p>And, again counting, he moved on and into the cañon until he had counted another -seventy-five paces. Then he understood.</p> - -<p>Here, cut into the wall of this cañon, was a second, a narrower, steeper-walled -ravine, evidently the one Johnny had had in mind when he said, “Enter mouth of -cañon.” The general trend of this one was north and south. He pushed on into it, -estimating roughly the five hundred yards.</p> - -<p>And then, with a little quickening of the pulses, he saw the dead pine-tree. It -had fallen, and now, with its roots half torn out of the rocky soil, lay -sprawled against the eastern bank of the cañon at an angle of about forty-five -degrees. The banks here were so steep, rising fifty feet above him, that a man -would have had a hard time climbing them. But the fallen tree was at once a -pointer to the Cup of Gold and a ladder to reach it.</p> - -<p>Up on the top of the bank he found the ridge, and working his way slowly along -that he came to the long line of cliffs which standing above made the side of -the mountain look like a giant’s stairway. And now, his heart beating with the -exertion of the struggle upward and with the eagerness of quickened anticipation -which comes to the miner at a time like this, no matter what face the day wears, -he stopped and let his eyes rove along the bottom of the cliff.</p> - -<p>And in a moment he saw what he looked for, and hurried forward. There were the -marks of a pick in the crumbling bank, and there——</p> - -<p>“Poor Johnny!” he muttered. “Poor old Johnny! To feel his pick sink into this, -to have it in his hands—and never to really work the greatest mine this country -ever saw!”</p> - -<p>For here, showing so that a novice must have seen and known and understood the -glittering promise of it, was a great vein of gold laid bare against the bottom -of the cliff-side, where last year’s snows had set the rocks free above; where -the side of the cliff had fallen outward disclosing the thing which the -mountains had hidden so well and so long.</p> - -<p>It was as rich as any pocket the miner had ever seen—richer. And it was not a -pocket at all, but a wide, deep vein which ran back into the mountainside; which -would make not one man, but hundreds of men, rich, would give them riotous days -and wild nights, would bring to the realization of dreams long dreamed. And -Johnny Watson, the man who had found this, who had turned back with but a -handful of the precious stuff that he might bring his partner with him, was dead -and would never take out a nugget.</p> - -<p>“All in the cards, Johnny,” he mused bitterly. “And the cards are running wrong -for you and me.”</p> - -<p>He sat upon a boulder, his eyes brooding over the yellow promise, his heart -heavy with the love for a lost partner and the newer love for a woman who was to -be lost as soon as he had found her. The shadows drew back from him, the sun -found him out; and still he sat staring at the thing which promised and mocked.</p> - -<p>At last, with the short laugh of a tired man, he got to his feet, stood for a -little looking at the smooth cuts a pick had made in the rocky bank, and then, -with no further spoken word, with no look behind him, moved slowly away and went -back along the ridge, down the pine-tree and to the lakeside.</p> - -<p>There he sat down upon the big white rock, and with the stub of a lead-pencil -wrote a letter upon the bit of oiled paper in which his pipe tobacco was -wrapped.</p> - -<p style='margin-top:0.7em'>Virginia, dear, if I am never to see you again—and who knows how a day like this -is going to end?—this is to say good-by for me. I think that you knew how much I -love you before I told you last night. So I do not need to tell you again. I -didn’t think that love came this way, so swiftly. I am glad, more glad than you -can ever understand, that it has come. You will go back to the world. I want you -to be very happy. I am enclosing a little present, a farewell gift. I want it to -help make you happy, dear. Good-by.</p> - -<p style='text-align:right; font-variant:small-caps;'>Dick Farley</p> - -<hr class='tb' /> - -<p>And folding the paper, he put into it Johnny Watson’s map. Then he went back -along the lakeside and to the cliffs below the cabin, to wait for James Dalton.</p> - -<p>He thought that it must be about ten o’clock when at last Dalton came, walking -swiftly from the cabin. Farley got to his feet and waited. Neither man spoke -until Dalton came within a dozen paces of him and stopped. Then Farley said -quietly—</p> - -<p>“Ready?”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>The man’s face showed no emotion, there was none in his steady voice.</p> - -<p>“Your revolver is of a smaller caliber than mine,” Farley went on in a slow, -matter-of-fact tone. “You can have one of my forty-fives, if you want it.”</p> - -<p>Dalton looked at him curiously.</p> - -<p>“Thanks. I don’t want it.” And then after a short silence in which the two men -eyed each other steadily: “There is no other way?”</p> - -<p>“No. There can be no other way. I kill you or—you kill me.”</p> - -<p>“Then,” Dalton answered, as if he had expected this, “if I don’t come through it -you will find a couple of letters in my pocket. Give them to Virginia.”</p> - -<p>“I have written a note, too,” Farley said by way of reply. “It is for her.”</p> - -<p>With slow, steady fingers he drew a revolver from his holster. For the instant -he lost sight of the man in front of him as his eyes went upward along the -cliffs and his thoughts ran ahead of them to the cabin and the girl there. The -world was unnaturally silent, the pines about them like carvings in jade, -without a tremor, the sunlight falling softly about them. The moment was -strangely lacking the thrill of excited nerves he had anticipated.</p> - -<p>That he and this man were standing so close together, that each held a revolver -in his hand, that death was very near, and the world and life and love drawing -very far away, did not impress him as he would have said that such a thing would -impress him. The whole thing was too big, meant too much, for him to grasp it.</p> - -<p>“Virginia may come,” Dalton’s deep-toned voice startled him. “We had -better—hurry.”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” he answered. “We had better hurry.”</p> - -<p>So they stood facing each other, a gun in each right hand, the muzzles downward. -There was not twenty feet between them.</p> - -<p>“We shoot together?” Dalton was asking him.</p> - -<p>“Yes. And the signal?”</p> - -<p>“Count three. That will do as well as any way. Will you count?”</p> - -<p>Farley nodded. And his voice, quiet, low, steady, with regular pauses between -the words, said:</p> - -<p>“One—two—three!”</p> - -<p>The two shots rang out together, like one. And the two men, their faces gone -white and tense drawn, stood looking at each other through the slowly lifting -smoke. For as he fired, Farley had thrown the muzzle of his gun downward so that -the ball plowed through the sand at the feet of Virginia Dalton’s father, and -Dalton’s bullet had winged its way high overhead, seeking the far shore of the -lake.</p> - -<p>“—— you!” cried Farley shrilly, a red flood of blood in his face as he -understood. “Why did you do that? Do you want to be killed, man?”</p> - -<p>The man who could have killed him had spared him, the man who had murdered -Johnny Watson had stood up courting death and had made no attempt to save -himself. And the knowledge only maddened the man who had chosen to die himself -at the hand of the man he could not kill—no, not even to “square things” for a -dead partner.</p> - -<p>“I have killed two men in fair fight in my life,” Dalton told him sternly, his -own face flushed hotly. “I am not going to kill a third. And I do not choose to -be made to look like a fool French dude in a polite duel! Are you going to kill -me?”</p> - -<p>Farley laughed evilly.</p> - -<p>“In fair fight!” he mocked. “To cut the throat out of a man before he had seen -you, to sneak up on him in the dark—and you call that fair fight!”</p> - -<p>“I gave him his chance! And he took it—not being a fool!”</p> - -<p>“A chance!” scoffed Farley, the rising anger within him making him for the -second forget that this was her father, his gun raised. “To drive your —— knife -through a man’s throat—to come at him in the dark——”</p> - -<p>“I used no knife, and I came upon him in broad daylight. And I shot the throat -out of him, after I got this!”</p> - -<p>He threw back his shirt collar and showed a raw wound at the base of his neck. -And Dick Farley, suddenly seeing the light of a great hope, dropped his revolver -into the sand as he clutched Dalton’s arm.</p> - -<p>“Don’t lie to me,” he said in a harsh whisper. For he had remembered those other -tracks he had found, and his whole body was shaking with what it might mean to -him. “Where did you find him?”</p> - -<p>Dalton looked at him curiously, as if upon a madman.</p> - -<p>“Over yonder.” His arm swung about until his outstretched forefinger pointed -toward the west—not the south. “Where he had left two horses in a little hollow. -I followed him back——”</p> - -<p>“Was he a little man, and stocky?” Farley was crying hoarsely. “Blue-eyed, a -little blond mustache——?”</p> - -<p>“He was a man six feet in his stockings,” Dalton retorted, staring. -“Black-haired and blacker-hearted. If he was your pardner——”</p> - -<p>“He wasn’t my pardner. Don’t you see, man?” It came with sudden conviction, with -a great gasp of relieved nerves. “You—you came upon the man who killed Johnny! -You killed Johnny Watson’s murderer!”</p> - -<p>And as Dalton stared after him, like a man stunned, Dick Farley was running -across the sandy beach and toward the cliffs. For he had seen the slender figure -of a girl coming slowly through the trees, and he had a wonderful message of -life and hope and love for her.</p> - -<p style='text-align:center; margin-top:1.6em; font-size:0.8em; text-indent:0'>THE END</p> -</div> - -<div style='font-size:0.9em; border:1px solid silver; margin-top:1em; margin-left:10%; width:80%; padding-left:0.8em;'> - <p>Transcriber’s Note: This story appeared in the October, 1915 issue of - the <em>All-Story Weekly</em> magazine published by the Frank T. Munsey Company.</p> -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BEYOND THE LAW ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following -the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use -of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for -copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very -easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation -of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project -Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away--you may -do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected -by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark -license, especially commercial redistribution. -</div> - -<div style='margin:0.83em 0; font-size:1.1em; text-align:center'>START: FULL LICENSE<br /> -<span style='font-size:smaller'>THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE<br /> -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK</span> -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -To protect the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project -Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg™ License available with this file or online at -www.gutenberg.org/license. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg™ -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg™ electronic work and you do not agree to be bound -by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person -or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg™ electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg™ electronic works if you follow the terms of this -agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg™ -electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the -Foundation” or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the -United States and you are located in the United States, we do not -claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting -free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg™ -works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the -Project Gutenberg™ name associated with the work. You can easily -comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the -same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg™ License when -you share it without charge with others. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are -in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, -check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this -agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg™ work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country other than the United States. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg™ License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg™ work (any work -on which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the -phrase “Project Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed: -</div> - -<blockquote> - <div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> - This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most - other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions - whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms - of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online - at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you - are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws - of the country where you are located before using this eBook. - </div> -</blockquote> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is -derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not -contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the -copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in -the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are -redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase “Project -Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply -either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or -obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg™ -trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any -additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg™ License for all works -posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the -beginning of this work. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg™ -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg™. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg™ License. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg™ work in a format -other than “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg™ website -(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense -to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means -of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original “Plain -Vanilla ASCII” or other form. Any alternate format must include the -full Project Gutenberg™ License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg™ works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works -provided that: -</div> - -<div style='margin-left:0.7em;'> - <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> - • You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg™ works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed - to the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark, but he has - agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid - within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are - legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty - payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in - Section 4, “Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg - Literary Archive Foundation.” - </div> - - <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> - • You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg™ - License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all - copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue - all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg™ - works. - </div> - - <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> - • You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of - any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of - receipt of the work. - </div> - - <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> - • You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg™ works. - </div> -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg™ electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of -the Project Gutenberg™ trademark. Contact the Foundation as set -forth in Section 3 below. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project -Gutenberg™ collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg™ -electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may -contain “Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate -or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other -intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or -other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or -cannot be read by your equipment. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right -of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg™ trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg™ electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’, WITH NO -OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in -accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg™ -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg™ work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg™ work, and (c) any -Defect you cause. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg™ -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Project Gutenberg™ is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg™’s -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg™ collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg™ and future -generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see -Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by -U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -The Foundation’s business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, -Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up -to date contact information can be found at the Foundation’s website -and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Project Gutenberg™ depends upon and cannot survive without widespread -public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular state -visit <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/donate/">www.gutenberg.org/donate</a>. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg™ electronic works -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project -Gutenberg™ concept of a library of electronic works that could be -freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and -distributed Project Gutenberg™ eBooks with only a loose network of -volunteer support. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Project Gutenberg™ eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in -the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Most people start at our website which has the main PG search -facility: <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This website includes information about Project Gutenberg™, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. -</div> - -</div> -</body> -</html> |