At the Time Appointed | Page 6

way, I'm not telling tales out of
school. The Ajax has been a bonanza in its day, but within the last year
or so the bottom has dropped out of the whole thing, and that's the
reason the owners are anxious to sell."
"I hear they ask a pretty good price for the mine."
"Yes, they're trading on her reputation, but that's all past. The mine is
practically worked out. They've made a few good strikes lately, so that
there is some good ore in sight, and this is their chance to sell, but there
are no indications of any permanence. One of our own men was over
there a while ago, and he said there wasn't enough ore in the mine to
keep their mill running full force for more than six months."
"Is this Hunter an expert also?"
"Oh, no; Parkinson said he was a friend of his, just taking the trip for
his health."
Darrell smiled quietly, knowing Hunter to be a member of the

syndicate employing Parkinson, but kept his knowledge to himself.
A little later, when Darrell and Whitcomb left together for the
dining-car, quite a friendship had sprung up between them. There was
that mutual attraction often observed between two natures utterly
diverse. Whitcomb was unaccountably drawn towards the dark-eyed,
courteous, but rather reticent stranger, while his own frank friendliness
and childlike confidence awoke in Darrell's nature a correlative
tenderness and affection which he never would have believed himself
capable of feeling towards one of his own sex.
"I don't know what is the matter with me," said Darrell, as he seated
himself at a table, facing Whitcomb. "My head seems to have a
small-sized stamp-mill inside of it; every bone in my body aches, and
my joints feel as though they were being pulled apart."
Whitcomb looked up quickly. "Are you just from the East, or have you
been out here any time?"
"I stopped for a few days, back here a ways."
"In the mountain country?"
"Yes."
"By George! I believe you've got the mountain fever; there's an awful
lot of it round here this season, and this is just the worst time of year
for an easterner to come out here. But we'll look after you when we get
to Ophir, and bring you round all right."
"Much obliged, but I think I'll be all right after a night's rest," Darrell
replied, inwardly resolved, upon reaching Ophir, to push on to the Ajax
as quickly as possible, though his ardor was considerably cooled by
Whitcomb's report.
When they left the dining-car the train was stopping at a small station,
and for a few moments the young men strolled up and down the
platform. A dense, bluish-gray haze hung low over the country,

rendering the outlines of even the nearest objects obscure and dim; the
western sky was like burnished copper, and the sun, poised a little
above the horizon, looked like a ball of glowing fire.
Just as the train was about to start Darrell saw the man whose peculiar
actions he had noticed earlier, leave the telegraph office and jump
hastily aboard. Calling Whitcomb's attention as he passed them, he
related his observations of the afternoon and cautioned him against the
man. For an instant Whitcomb looked serious.
"I suppose it was rather indiscreet in me to talk as I did," he said, "but it
can't be helped now. However, I guess it's all right, but I'm obliged to
you all the same."
They passed into the smoker, where Darrell was introduced to Hunter
and Parkinson. In a short time, however, he found himself suffering
from nausea and growing faint and dizzy.
"Gentlemen," he said, "you will have to excuse me. I'm rather off my
base this evening, and I find that smoking isn't doing me any good."
As he rose young Whitcomb sprang instantly to his feet; throwing away
his cigar and linking his arm within Darrell's, he insisted upon
accompanying him to the sleeper, notwithstanding his protests.
"Good-night, Parkinson," he called, cheerily; "see you in the morning!"
He accompanied Darrell to his section; then dropped familiarly into the
seat beside him, throwing one arm affectionately over Darrell's
shoulder, and during the next hour, while the sunset glow faded and the
evening shadows deepened, he confided to this acquaintance of only a
few hours the outlines of his past life and much regarding his hopes and
plans for the future. He spoke of his orphaned boyhood; of the uncle
who had given him a home in his family and initiated him into his own
business methods; of his hope of being admitted at no distant day into
partnership with his uncle and becoming a shareholder in the wonderful
Bird Mine.

"But that isn't all I am looking forward to," he said, in