r was a greater
emotion. Before him he could plainly discern the abject failure of his
plans--the plan to marry this beautiful girl, the plan to go on with
McCoppet and snatch a fortune from the earth. It was not a time for
defiance. He must fence. He must yield as far as possible--till the
claim should make him independent. Of the tirade on his tongue against
Van Buren he dared not utter a word. His own affairs of love would
serve no better.

He summoned a smile to his ghastly lips and attempted to assume a calm
demeanor.

"Very well," he said. "If that is the way you feel about your money, I
will pay you back at once."

"If you please," she said. "To-day."

"But--the bank isn't open after three," he said in a species of panic.
"You can't be utterly unreasonable."

"It was open much later when we were wiring New York some time ago,"
she reminded him coldly. "I think you'll find it open to-night till
nine."

"Well--perhaps I can arrange it, then," he said in desperation. "I'll
get down there now and see what I can do."

He took his hat and, glad to escape a further inquisition, made
remarkable haste from the house.

Trembling with excitement, quivering on the verge of half-discovered
things, flashes of intuition, fragments of deduction, Beth waited an
hour for developments.

Searle did not return. She had felt he would not. She was certain her
money was gone.

At dusk a messenger boy arrived with the briefest note, in Bostwick's
familiar hand.

"Sudden, urgent call to the claim. No time for business. Back as soon
as possible. With love and faith, yours, SEARLE."

How she loathed his miserable lie!

CHAPTER XXXIX

ALGY'S COOKING AND BETH'S DESPAIR

Van and the new supply of provender arrived together at the tent where
the partners made their temporary home. It was nearly dusk, the mellow
end of a balmy day. Gettysburg, Napoleon, and Dave were all inside the
canvas, filling the small hollow cube of air with a mighty reek from
their pipes, and playing seven-up on a greasy box. The Chinese cook
was away, much to Van's surprise.

"Gett," he said, throwing off his belt and revolver, "if Nap was to
deal the cards on your tombstone, on the day of Gabriel's trump, I'll
bet you'd break the crust and take a hand. What have you done with
Algy?"

"He's went to git a job," said Gettysburg. "He called us all a lot of
babies. I doggone near kicked him in the lung."

Outside,