At the Time Appointed | Page 2

its passengers at the depot.
One of these, a young man of about five-and-twenty, arose with some
difficulty from the cramped position which for seven weary hours he
had been forced to maintain, and, with sundry stretchings and shakings
of his superb form, seemed at last to pull himself together. Having
secured his belongings from out the pile of miscellaneous luggage
thrown from the stage upon the platform, he advanced towards the
slouching figure of a man just emerging from the baggage-room, his
hands thrust deep in his trousers pockets, his mouth stretched in a
prodigious yawn, the arrival of the stage having evidently awakened
him from his siesta.
"How's the west-bound--on time?" queried the young man rather
shortly, but despite the curtness of his accents there was a musical
quality in the ringing tones.
Before the cavernous jaws could close sufficiently for reply, two distant
whistles sounded almost simultaneously.
"That's her," drawled the man, with a backward jerk of his thumb over
his shoulder in the direction of the sound; "she's at Blind Man's Pass; be
here in about fifteen minutes."
The young man turned and sauntered to the rear end of the platform,
where he paused for a few moments; then, unconscious of the scrutiny
of his fellow-passengers, he began silently pacing up and down, being
in no mood for conversation with any one. Every bone in his body
ached and his head throbbed with a dull pain, but these physical

discomforts, which he attributed to his long and wearisome stage ride,
caused him less annoyance than did the fact that he had lost several
days' time, besides subjecting himself to numerous inconveniences and
hardships, on what he now denominated a "fool's errand."
An expert mineralogist and metallurgist, he had been commissioned by
a large syndicate of eastern capitalists to come west, primarily to
examine a certain mine recently offered for sale, and secondarily to
secure any other valuable mining properties which might happen to be
on the market. A promoter, whose acquaintance he had formed soon
after leaving St. Paul, had poured into his ear such fabulous tales of a
mine of untold wealth which needed but the expenditure of a few
thousands to place it upon a dividend-paying basis, that, after making
due allowance for optimism and exaggeration, he had thought it might
be worth his while to stop off and investigate. The result of the
investigation had been anything but satisfactory for either the promoter
or the expert.
He was the more annoyed at the loss of time because of a telegram
handed him just before his departure from St. Paul, which he now drew
forth, and which read as follows:
"Parkinson, expert for M. and M. on trail. Knows you as our
representative, but only by name. Lie low and block him if possible.
"BARNARD."
He well understood the import of the message. The "M. and M." stood
for a rival syndicate of enormous wealth, and the fact that its expert
was also on his way west promised lively competition in the purchase
of the famous Ajax mine.
"Five days," he soliloquized, glancing at the date of the message, which
he now tore into bits, together with two or three letters of little
importance. "I have lost my start and am now likely to meet this
Parkinson at any stage of the game. However, he has never heard of
John Darrell, and that name will answer my purpose as well as any
among strangers. I'll notify Barnard when I reach Ophir."

His plans for the circumvention of Parkinson were now temporarily cut
short by the appearance of the "double-header" rounding a curve and
rapidly approaching--a welcome sight, for the heat and blinding glare
of light were becoming intolerable.
Only for a moment the ponderous engines paused, panting and
quivering like two living, sentient monsters; the next, with heavy,
labored breath, as though summoning all their energies for the task
before them, they were slowly ascending the steadily increasing grade,
moment by moment with accelerated speed plunging into the very heart
of the mountains, bearing John Darrell, as he was to be henceforth
known, to a destiny of which he had little thought, but which he
himself had, unconsciously, helped to weave.
An hour later, on returning to the sleeper after an unsuccessful attempt
at dining, Darrell sank into his seat, and, leaning wearily back, watched
with half-closed eyes the rapidly changing scenes through which he
was passing, for the time utterly oblivious to his surroundings. Gigantic
rocks, grotesque in form and color, flashed past; towering peaks
loomed suddenly before him, advancing, receding, disappearing, and
reappearing with the swift windings and doublings of the train; massive
walls of granite pressed close and closer, seeming for one instant a
threatening, impenetrable barrier, the next, opening to reveal glimpses