watched from the shelter of the gallery.

Yet the days went by and then the weeks and at last the Widow, with a
sigh of vexation, put up her gun and retired within. Now that the
episode was over she felt vaguely regretful that he had failed, after
all, in his purpose. If he had procured his option, under cover of her
blindness, and obtained her quit-claim to the mine, she would at least
have had the satisfaction of obtaining her own terms--and she would have
the twenty thousand to spend. It was maddening, disgusting, when she
thought it over, that he had turned out to be Holman's son, and she
never quite forgave Virginia for dinning the fact into her ears. For
what you don't know will never hurt you, and she had lost her last
chance to sell. When she went back into the house she went back into the
kitchen, and there she would have to stay. Either that or take Honest
John's money.

But he wanted the property--the Widow knew it--else why had he sent his
son? All the wise-acres in Keno agreed with the Widow that Honest John
had designs on her property and Death Valley Charley, who had jumped
half the claims in the district, began once more to carry his gun. It
was by virtue of that, more than of assessment work done or of any other
legal right, that Charley held title to his claims; and until Wiley had
come through town and attempted to bond the Paymaster he had feared no
one but Stiff Neck George. Stiff Neck George had been Blount's gunman
on the momentous occasion when they had tried to jump the Paymaster--and
the Widow Huff had put him to flight with one blast from her trusty
shotgun. But now that big interests were sending in their experts and
mining was picking up everywhere Stiff Neck George might forget that
humiliating defeat, so Death Valley Charley put on his six-shooter.

He was a little, stooping man, burned chocolate brown by the sun and
with eyes half blinded by the glare, and as the Widow gave up her
fruitless vigil, Death Valley Charley took her place. But he was not
alone, for through all the weary weeks Virginia had been watching her
mother. She had slipped in and out, now lingering on the gallery, now
listening through the doorway, expectant but at the same time afraid.
She knew Wiley Holman much better than her mother, and she knew that he
would come back. He was patient, that was all, more patient than an
Indian, and he had his eye on their mine. For ten years and more Colonel
Huff, and now the Wido