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bank at Denver, Jack had entered their
"employ as receiving teller. Some time
when he becomes a story teller Jack
may divulge how he came to fall in love
with me. I cannot; There could, of
course, be no question as to why my
heart began to double shuttle the instant
we met. (I remember that I was sur-
reptitiously curling my hair behind the
door, and he entered the room without
warning. My cheeks still burn whenever
I think of my predicament.) His Gib-
son chin.alone would have won me, and
when, in addition, there were deep gray
eyes, darkened by heavy plack brows and
lashes, a firm mouth, wont to curve in-
to charming, unexpected smiles, and the
fine, stalwart figure of the Westerner
toned to the easy grace attained at an
Eastern college--well, since he is my
husband, I confess that I gave him my
heart on that first day. Fortunately, I
had his in exchange, so I felt never a
whit-of inconvenience from the loss.
The ufirst year of our betrothal passed
sunnily away. We smiled pityingly up-
on the rest of the world and took oe-
easional peeps through . rose-colored
glasses into that vague future existence
when we should be man and wife, but,
with Jack’s income at “sixty per,” we
decided not to enter into any definite
plans for awhile at least.
About that time there swept over the
country one of those insidious epidemics
which occasionally seize upon thousands
of our able-bodied citizens and send
them thronging to the West. ’Twas the
gold fever. Poor Jack caught the infec-
tion in its most virulent form, and for
weeks raved about nuggets and quartz
and veinsand diggings’ until, in due
time, I,,too, was stricken, though with
a much milder case. From rose-colored
our prospects had changed to a daz-
zling, untarnished golden; It seemed hard
for us to face the dark year which he
must spend in the mining-district while
I lived a weary, Jackless life in Denver,
but we resolutely closed our eyes to
that picture and revellcd in Monte
Cristo dreams. Nevertheless, it was a
black day when Jack started for the
‘ Hills, and our parting was far diiferent
from the heroic one we had planned.
Soon, however, came his letters, full
of hope and encouragement; he seemed
to have settled into a very world of
gold. Gold there was to the (right and
to the left; gold underfoot;.gold fairly
bursting from the-ground all around
himl To be sure, his good fortune had
not yet begun-truth to tell, Jack had
not uncovered so much as a single nug-
get; but he declared, undaunted, his
turn would come. 'All his letters were
.written in the ‘same vein-I began to
know them nearly word for word. Still
he optimized, still labored without re-
"sult and still I tried to hope, despite
the cruel sinking of my heart. Then
suddenly those letters ceased. By calen-
dar time there passcd but one month
of silence-my heart measured out long
years of pain during that anxious wait-
ing. Then came a letter written" in a
strange hand, summoningme to Jack’s
bedside. Camp fever had seized him
and, already weakened by the unwanted
hardships he had undergone, hc‘was slow-
ly losing in the struggle with this new
enemy. Tossing about in his wild de-
lirium, he called for me incessantly,
and it was thought that my presence‘
might save‘his life-if I could arrive
in time. , ' .
It took me a week to reach him, but
he had waited. When he realized it
was I leaning over him, when he heard
me pleading with him to live for my
sake, he stopped trying to die, and let
my arms draw him back into the life
fro which he had so nearly slipped
awn . And two days later we were mar-
ried by a. dear little minister whose
exhortations .in regard to laying up
treasures in heaven had been tempora-
rily suspended in order that he, too,
might join the mad rush in search of
treasures in the earth, My husband’s
convalcscenco was long and tedious, but
at last came the day when we gathered
our traps, saddled Romeo ‘and Juliette;
our mules,‘ and set out across the plains.
And this is how we came to be travel-
ling eastward, homcward, together, with
not a nugget of gold in our packs, but
with staunch hearts, ready to fight our
way back to the world we had deserted.
My thoughts having unwittingly crept
back to the present, my attention again
became entirely engrossed with the
storm. 'Such a deluge! It scarce need-
ed my excited fancy to convince me that
we hadfallen into the clutches of some
‘half-starved ogre, called up from my
fairy-tale days. It seized upon our lit-
tle tent and rattled it viciously; it
howled and roared and lit up every cor-
ner with its angry glare, bombarding us,
meanwhile, with volleys of hailstones and
drenching us with driving sheets of rain,
against which our flapping canvas of-
fered but paltry resistance. -1 felt Jack’s
steady hand pushing back the wet hair
from my forehead, and I grasped at it
convulsivcly--then suddenly the whole
earth seemed to explode with one awful
fiash and roar. '
Probably ’twas but a few moments that
we lay.there stunned. When I recov-
ered it was stilllight-far lighter than
before the storm. The magic ‘saffron >
afterglow was over everything, and in
its brightness my. eyes opened to see
Jack’s white face just above me, his
eyes seeking. mine with agonized inten-
sity, his hot breath gasping between
his parted lips. Then came his voice:
“Don’t be frightened any more, little
one! It’s all over.” My addled brain
was slow to grasp the catastrophe. Lazily
my gaze wandered past Jack to the
boulder, where Romeo was making fran-
tic efforts to free himself. His mate lay
stark on the ground. With a cry of
horror, as my last spark of .c0mprehen.
sion returned, I-staggered to my fect
and clung dizzily to Jack, staring around
me at the grim havoc of the storm.
A tattered, bedragglcd heap of canvas
which a few moments before had been our:
tent; the contents of our packs, con.
verted into almosrunrecognizable-rub.
bish,,scattered about in wildest confu-
sion; and a lame mule, scarcely better
than his dead companion, since he mum
hardly hear my light weight alone-such
was the inventory of all our earthly
possessions. ’
“Looks pretty black, eh, Dollyi” Again
came Jack’s cheeriness to
“But don’t look so knocked-out! After
all, it might be worse-one lame mulous
better than none, and most of the food
is canned, so we can save it if we hustle
around. And I guess we can save a few
yards of canvas out of tho wreck-to
buoy me up. ,
fijfe; GRIT STORY SECTION 2-‘; %,..7g9a=:=:=g? . . s
keep oh’ the dampness,” he added whim-
sically, wringing ‘the water from his
jacket. Then, as I still hung back:
“Come, little wife, show your col-
ors!” he shouted, and, with his indomita-
ble light-heartedness, darted off in search
of lost goods, calling for me,to follow.
Clearly he was set on pretending the
whole‘ affair was to him but a huge joke,
perpetrated for his especial amusement:
My colors, I fear, did not show to ad-
vantage. Weary with travel and still
under the debilitating influence of the
lightning shock, I trudged dejectedly
after him, endeavoring vainly to respond
to his mood, but the laugh which I
forced out ended in ,a sigh, and I’
stopped -and rested my feverish check
on the cool,’ smooth surface of the
boulder. Must I be counted disloyal if I
confess that as I gazed again at the dev-
astation about me ' there came a mo-
ment’s pang-a fleeting regret for the
comforts of my Denver home-‘I-myybright
little office in the Trust Company build-
ing, with its happy associations and
pleasant routine of daily duties‘! I half
smiled as I remembered the girlish en-
thusiasm with which I had mastered my
beloved stenography, fired by ambition
to become a strong-minded, independent
business woman. And here was I, van-
quished in my ,very first combat with
the world I had so eagerly challenged!
Of what use was mystenography-my
only practical accomplishment-in the
midst of this ruin? My, bitter self-con-
damnation was suddenly broken by the
clear,‘ bright whistle of the “Bob White”
-a signal which Jack and I had -used so
often on our journey-'-and I started up
to answer-but instead of the two’fami-
liar notes, my-puckered lips emitted a .
10113. low whistle of amazement; for
there; where my body had rested against
919 ,1'0Ck..clearly distinguishable in the
W3111118 light, was traced an outline,
about two feet in length: '
I thought at first-and al-
most hoped-that it was an
hallucination arising from
my revery. Then, as my
wonder and perploxity wore
3-Way. I Passed my hand over the curious
b1“,9'bl3Ck Pattern, and found it in-
dehbly Stamped on the creamy white
quartz. It was real then; but was it
magic-witchcraft-4-what? The boulder
had been perfectly blank before the
storm! .
“Jack!”-I shouted. “Jack !”
He was beside me instantly.
“What’s up?” he asked. “I11? Come
-sit here a minute.” ‘ ‘
“No-nol Look here, Jack.” I point-
ed to the marks. “IIere’s‘the inscription,
we needed.” , ,
a‘ Jack examined it carefully, then turned
‘fame. half-sobered-for jhe minute.
Well. that was close! The rock has
beemstruck by lightning, Dolly. That
mscrlptlonpwas written by Jovc’s own
h3“d‘1t might be of some value to auto-
graph 1iends.. Wonder what the old fel-
10“T. had to say.” And he studied it
again. I .
- My heart was beating tumultuously -
with my discovery.
“I can read ‘t J k” '
“H0490 smog! ac , I whispered.
80:19 to your brain?” he cried teasingly.
d, N0. 1111 sane enough-I would be a
“W09 to my profession if r couldn’t
mad 800d legible shorthand like that.”
Jack ‘W 1011361’ restrained his mirth.‘ .
Has the lightning’
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