The Claim Jumpers

The group began to break up and move down the gulch, most of the men

shouting out a good-natured word or so of farewell. Bennington,

recovering from his daze at the rapid passage of these events, stepped

forward to where Fay and the girl had resumed their discussion. He saw

that the young miner had recovered his habitual tone of raillery, and

that the girl was now looking up at him with eyes full of deprecation.

"Miss Lawton," said Bennington with formality, "I hope you will allow

me, after your great kindness, to see that you get down the gulch

safely."

Fay cut in before the girl could reply.

"Don't bother about that, de Laney," said he, in a most cavalier

fashion. "I'll see to it."

"I did not address you, sir!" returned Bennington coldly. The

Westerner's eyes twinkled with amusement. The girl interrupted.

"Thank you very much, Mr. de Laney, but Mr. Fay is right--I wouldn't

trouble you." Her eyes commanded Fay, and he moved a little apart.

"Don't be angry," she pleaded hurriedly, in an undertone, "but it's

better that way to-night. And I think you acted grandly."

"You are the one who acted grandly," he replied, a little mollified.

"How can I ever thank you? You came just in time."

She laughed.

"You're not angry, are you?" she coaxed.

"No, of course not; what right have I to be?"

"I don't like that--quite--but I suppose it will do. You'll be there

to-morrow?"

"You know I will."

"Then good-night." She gave his folded arm a hasty pat and ran on down

the hill after Fay, who had gone on. Bennington saw her seize his

shoulders, as she overtook him, and give them a severe shake.

The light of the torches down the gulch wavered and disappeared.

Bennington returned to his room. On the table lay his manuscript, and

the ink was hardly dried on the last word of it. Outside a poor-will

began to utter its weird call. The candle before him sputtered, and

burned again with a clear flame.

[Footnote A: Western--to become frightened.]