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 conclusion,

his boyish tones growing strangely deep and tender. "My fondest hope of

all I hardly dare admit even to myself, and I don't know why I am

speaking of it to you, except that I already like you and trust you as I

never did any other man; but you will understand what I mean when you

see my cousin, Kate Underwood."

He paused, but his silence was more eloquent to Darrell than words; the

latter grasped his hand warmly in token that he understood.

"I wish you all that you hope for," he said.

A few moments later Whitcomb spoke with his usual impetuosity. "What am

I thinking of, keeping you up in this way when you are sick and dead

tired! You had better turn in and get all the rest you can, and when we

reach Ophir to-morrow, just remember, my dear fellow, that no hotels

'go.' You'll go directly home with me, where you'll find yourself in

such good hands you'll think sure you're in your own home, and we'll

soon have you all right."




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