Bob Hampton of Placer Part 13

"Oh, was that it? Then I duly bow my acknowledgment. I took your words for one of those silly compliments by which men believe they honor women."

He glanced curiously aside at her half-averted face. "At first sight I had supposed you scarcely more than a mere girl, but now you speak like a woman wearied of the world, utterly condemning all complimentary phrases."

"Indeed, no; not if they be sincerely expressed as between man and man."

"How is it as between man and woman?"

"Men generally address women as you started to address me, as if there existed no common ground of serious thought between them. They condescend, they flatter, they indulge in fulsome compliment, they whisper soft nonsense which they would be sincerely ashamed to utter in the presence of their own s.e.x, they act as if they were amusing babies, rather than conversing with intelligent human beings. Their own notion seems to be to shake the rattle-box, and awaken a laugh. I am not a baby, nor am I seeking amus.e.m.e.nt."

He glanced curiously at her book. "And yet you condescend to read love stories," he said, smiling. "I expected to discover a treatise on philosophy."

"I read whatever I chance to get my hands on, here in Glencaid," she retorted, "just as I converse with whoever comes along. I am hopeful of some day discovering a rare gem hidden in the midst of the trash. I am yet young."

"You are indeed young," he said, quietly, "and with some of life's lessons still to learn. One is that frankness is not necessarily flippancy, nor honesty harshness. Beyond doubt much of what you said regarding ordinary social conversation is true, yet the man is no more to be blamed than the woman. Both seek to be entertaining, and are to be praised for the effort rather than censured. A stranger cannot instinctively know the likes and dislikes of one he has just met; he can feel his way only by commonplaces. However, if you will offer me a topic worthy the occasion, in either philosophy, science, or literature, I will endeavor to feed your mind."

She uplifted her innocent eyes demurely to his face. "You are so kind.

I am deeply interested just now In the j.a.panese conception of the transmigration of souls."

"How extremely fortunate! It chances to be my favorite theme, but my mental processes are peculiar, and you must permit me to work up toward it somewhat gradually. For instance, as a question leading that way, how, in the incarnation of this world, do you manage to exist in such a hole of a place?--that is, provided you really reside here."

"Why, I consider this a most delightful nook."

"My reference was to Glencaid."

"Oh! Why, I live from within, not without. Mind and heart, not environment, make life, and my time is occupied most congenially. I am being faithfully nurtured on the Presbyterian catechism, and also trained in the graces of earthly society. These alternate, thus preparing me for whatever may happen in this world or the next."

His face pictured bewilderment, but also a determination to persevere.

"An interesting combination, I admit. But from your appearance this cannot always have been your home?"

"Oh, thank you. I believe not always; but I wonder at your being able to discern my superiority to these surroundings. And do you know your questioning is becoming quite personal? Does that yield me an equal privilege?"

He bowed, perhaps relieved at thus permitting her to a.s.sume the initiative, and rested lazily back upon the gra.s.s, his eyes intently studying her face.

"I suppose from your clothes you must be a soldier. What is that figure 7 on your hat for?"

"The number of my regiment, the Seventh Cavalry."

Her glance was a bit disdainful as she coolly surveyed him from head to foot, "I should imagine that a strong, capable-appearing fellow like you might do much better than that. There is so much work in the world worth doing, and so much better pay."

"What do you mean? Is n't a soldier's life a worthy one?"

"Oh, yes, of course, in a way. We have to have soldiers, I suppose; but if I were a man I 'd hate to waste all my life tramping around at sixteen dollars a month."

He smothered what sounded like a rough e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n, gazing into her demure eyes as if she strongly suspected a joke hid in their depths.

"Do--do you mistake me for an enlisted man?"

"Oh, I did n't know; you said you were a soldier, and that's what I always heard they got. I am so glad if they give you more. I was only going to say that I believed I could get you a good place in McCarthy's store if you wanted it. He pays sixty-five dollars, and his clerk has just left."

Brant stared at her with open mooch, totally unable for the moment to decide whether or not that innocent, sympathetic face masked mischief.

Before he succeeded in regaining confidence and speech, she had risen to her feet, holding back her skirt with one hand.

"Really, I must go," she announced calmly, drawing back toward the slight opening between the rushes. "No doubt YOU have done fully as well as you could considering your position in life; but this has proved another disappointment. You have fallen, far, very far, below my ideal. Good-bye."

He sprang instantly erect, his cheeks flushed. "Please don't go without a farther word. We seem predestined to misunderstand. I am even willing to confess myself a fool in the hope of some time being able to convince you otherwise. You have not even told me that you live here; nor do I know your name."

She shook her head positively, repressed merriment darkening her eyes and wrinkling the corners of her mouth. "It would be highly improper to introduce myself to a stranger--we Presbyterians never do that."

"But do you feel no curiosity as to who I may be?"

"Why, not in the least; the thought is ridiculous. How very conceited you must be to imagine such a thing!"

He was not a man easily daunted, nor did he recall any previous embarra.s.sment in the presence of a young woman. But now he confronted something utterly unique; those quiet eyes seemed to look straight through him. His voice faltered sadly, yet succeeded in asking: "Are we, then, never to meet again? Am I to understand this to be your wish?"

She laughed. "Really, sir, I am not aware that I have the slightest desire in the matter. I have given it no thought, but I presume the possibility of our meeting again depends largely upon yourself, and the sort of society you keep. Surely you cannot expect that I would seek such an opportunity?"

He bowed humbly. "You mistake my purpose. I merely meant to ask if there was not some possibility of our again coming together socially the presence of mutual friends."

"Oh, I scarcely think so; I do not remember ever having met any soldiers at the social functions here--excepting officers. We are extremely exclusive in Glencaid," she dropped him a mocking courtesy, "and I have always moved in the most exclusive set."

Piqued by her tantalizing manner, he asked, "What particular social functions are about to occur that may possibly open a pa.s.sage into your guarded presence?"

She seemed immersed in thought, her face turned partially aside.

"Unfortunately, I have not my list of engagements here," and she glanced about at him shyly. "I can recall only one at present, and I am not even certain--that is, I do not promise--to attend that.

However, I may do so. The Miners' Bachelor Club gives a reception and ball to-morrow evening in honor of the new schoolmistress."

"What is her name?" with responsive eagerness.

She hesitated, as if doubtful of the strict propriety of mentioning it to a stranger.

"Miss Phoebe Spencer," she said, her eyes cast demurely down.

"Ah!" he exclaimed, in open triumph; "and have I, then, at last made fair capture of your secret? You are Miss Phoebe Spencer."

She drew back still farther within the recesses of the bushes, at his single victorious step forward.

"I? Why certainly not. I am merely Miss Spencer's 'star' pupil, so you may easily judge something of what her superior attainments must necessarily be. But I am really going now, and I sincerely trust you will be able to secure a ticket for to-morrow night; for if you once meet this Miss Spencer you will never yield another single thought to me, Mr.--Mr.--" her eyes dancing with laughter--"First Lieutenant Donald Brant."

CHAPTER IV

SILENT MURPHY

Brant sprang forward, all doubt regarding this young woman instantly dissipated by those final words of mischievous mockery. She had been playing with him as unconcernedly as if he were a mere toy sent for her amus.e.m.e.nt, and his pride was stung.

But pursuit proved useless. Like a phantom she had slipped away amid the underbrush, leaving him to flounder blindly in the labyrinth. Once she laughed outright, a clear burst of girlish merriment ringing through the silence, and he leaped desperately forward, hoping to intercept her flight. His incautious foot slipped along the steep edge of the shelving bank, and he went down, half stumbling, half sliding, until he came to a sudden pause on the brink of the little stream. The chase was ended, and he sat up, confused for the moment, and half questioning the evidence of his own eyes.