Beth Norvell

When the drop-curtain slowly rose that Saturday evening fully three

thousand people crowded the hall, eager for any fresh excitement; and

ready enough either to taunt or applaud a performer, as the whim moved

them. Bearded miners conspicuous in red shirts; cattlemen wearing wide

sombreros and hairy "chaps"; swarthy Mexicans lazily puffing the

inseparable cigarette; gamblers attired in immaculate linen, together

with numerous women gaudy of cheek and attire, composed a frontier

audience full of possibilities. The result might easily prove good or

evil, according to the prevailing temper, but fortunately the "Heart of

the World" quickly caught the men's fancy, the laughter ringing loud in

appreciation of Mr. Lane's ardent buffoonery, while the motley crowd

sat in surprised silence evincing respect, as Miss Norvell drove home

to their minds the lesson of a woman's sorrow and struggle against

temptation. It was well worth while looking out across the oil-lamp

footlights upon those hard-faced, bearded men, those gaudily attired

women, thus held and controlled by perfectly depleted emotion, the vast

audience so silent that the click of the wheel, the rattle of ivory

chips in the rooms beyond, became plainly audible. There was

inspiration in it likewise, and never before did Beth Norvell more

clearly exhibit her native power, her spark of real genius.

Winston found little to do in his department that night, either on or

off the stage, as the company expected to spend Sunday in the place.

Consequently, he was only slightly behind the other members of the

troupe in attaining the hotel at the conclusion of the evening's

performance. Indeed, he was earlier than many, for most of the male

members had promptly adjourned to the convenient bar-room, with

whatsoever small sums of money they could wring from out the reluctant

palm of Albrecht. Winston chanced to pause for a moment at the cigar

stand to exchange a pleasant good-night word with the seemingly genial

clerk.

"You one of the actors?" questioned the latter, exhibiting some slight

interest.

The young man nodded indifferently, not feeling unduly proud of the

distinction.

"Sorry I couldn't have been there," the other went on cordially. "The

boys tell me you gave 'em a mighty fine show, but I 'm here to bet that

some of your people wish they 'd steered clear of San Juan."

"How's that?"

"Why, that fat fellow--what's his name?--oh, yes, Albrecht--the sheriff

was in here hunting him with some papers he had to serve, and it would

have made you laugh just to see that duck climb out when I met him

yonder on the street a few minutes ago, and gave him the highball.

Guest of the house, you know, and we did n't want him pinched in here;

besides, we understood he carried the scads for the rest of your bunch,

and we naturally wanted our share. The sheriff's out tryin' to find

him now; but Lord! the fellow 's safe enough out of the county by this

time, if he skipped the way I advised him he 'd better. There was an

extra ore train goin' down to Bolton to-night, and he just had time to

catch it on the run."