UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 AT LOS ANGELES 
 
 ROBERT ERNEST COWAN
 
 
 BY- 
 
 L
 
 ESPERANZA 
 
 BY 
 SUSAN L, . VA t, E R G A
 
 Copyright, 1911 
 
 By 
 Susan L. Valerga 
 
 Dramatization Copyright 1910 
 
 By 
 Susan L. Valerga 
 
 All Rights Reserved 
 
 PRESS OF 
 
 BROWN & POWER STATIONERY Co. 
 
 327 335 CALIFORNIA STREET 
 
 SAN FRANCISCO, CAL.
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 Chapter Page 
 
 I Lucette's Confession 9 
 
 II Unexpected News 15 
 
 III A True Friend 23 
 
 IV Adele's Strategy 28 
 
 V Preparing for the Visitors 34 
 
 VI Lucette's Request 39 
 
 VII The Gypsy's Phophecy 45 
 
 *v VIII The Arrival 49 
 
 IX The Proposed Trip 58 
 
 X The Conspiracy 64 
 
 XI Jute's Outing 71 
 
 XII The Exchanged Rose 75 
 
 XIII The Clandestine Appointment.. 81 
 
 XIV Roderick DeMonte's Vow 85 
 
 XV The Blow 100 
 
 XVI Esperanza's Mountain Hut 104 
 
 XVII The Murder 114 
 
 XVIII The Discovered Weapon 123 
 
 XIX Six Weeks Later 126 
 
 XX The Promise 132 
 
 XXI The Eagle's Rest 147 
 
 XXII The Assault 154 
 
 XXIII Tracked 160 
 
 XXIV The Cave in the Sierras. . . .164 
 
 2861284
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Dear Friends : 
 
 In offering this norcl for your kind con 
 sideration, my sincere wish is, that it may 
 serve as a pastime, for the ever-fleeting hour. 
 If so, I shall feel thoroughly recompensed for 
 having introduced "Esperama" signifying 
 Hope. Trusting that my earnest endeavor, of 
 Esperanto's thrilling romance amidst the 
 Sierras may not fail to interest the critical 
 
 public, 
 
 Yours interrogatory, 
 
 SUSAN L. VALERGA.
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 LUCETTE'S CONFESSION 
 
 The spacious living room of the Fielding 
 home held an occupant in the person of 
 Adele Thorn the handsome dark-eyed gov 
 erness of Mr. Fielding's ward, Lucette 
 Westly. 
 
 The morning being extremely warm, Adele, 
 seated in a comfortable easy chair, had fallen 
 asleep. The book she had been reading fell 
 from her listless hand, awakening her just 
 as Mr. Fielding, attired in a light gray serge 
 suit, entered the room. Removing his broad 
 panama, he uncovered a wealth of silver gray 
 hair, which set off his ruddy good-natured 
 face. 
 
 ''What an extremely sultry morning," he 
 remarked, removing his gloves. Suddenly 
 perceiving Adele, who quickly arose, he said, 
 bowing: "Pardon me, Miss Thorn, for hav 
 ing disturbed you." 
 
 "Really, I am indebted to you, Mr. 
 9
 
 Fielding for having done so," she said, look 
 ing at her watch. "I have several duties 
 which require my attention. With your kind 
 permission I beg leave to retire." Adele turn 
 ing to go, Mr. Fielding graciously asked: 
 "Will you be kind enough to inform Lucette 
 that I wish to speak to her?" 
 
 "Certainly, sir; I will deliver your message 
 
 directly," Adele replied with a slight bow, as 
 she turned to go. 
 
 "Strange," said Mr. Fielding, seating him 
 self, "how nervous Adele always appears to 
 be when in my presence." 
 
 "Ha! ha!" he joyfully exclaimed, as he 
 heard a peal of light-hearted laughter out 
 side. "Here comes my little truant now. 
 How her merry laughter thrills my heart." 
 Rising, he greeted Lucette who, smiling, 
 bounded into the room. Her soft radiant 
 beauty was electrified by her girlish expres 
 sion. Her lovely clear brow was surrounded 
 by a mass of golden curls, the tinge of which 
 enhanced the glory of her beautiful azure 
 eyes. Her form was round, dainty and sup 
 ple. Carelessly removing her large garden 
 hat she tossed it aside, as she ran to Mr. 
 Fielding to receive his morning kiss. She 
 then sat down on the footstool at his feet. 
 10
 
 "Well, Lucette," said he, stroking her curls. 
 "My, but you're fresh and rosy ! Where 
 were you so early?" 
 
 "In the garden. I was waiting for Leigh 
 to pluck me some roses, when Adele deliv 
 ered your message, so off I ran without 
 them." And looking sweetly up into Mr. 
 Fielding's face she laughingly continued: "So 
 here I am." 
 
 "I'm very much afraid that Leigh will 
 bestow . the roses upon your governess, 
 Adele." 
 
 Lucette quickly replied : "Leigh and Adele 
 are not friends, so my bouquet will be per 
 fectly safe." 
 
 "Not friends?" questioned Mr. Fielding in 
 a surprised tone. "Why?" 
 
 "I'll tell you. Listen. Yesterday morning 
 Adele inquired of Leigh if there had been 
 any mail received from Lieutenant Fielding. 
 Leigh answered slowly, 'None.' Adele then 
 turning to me laughingly said, 'What a pity, 
 Lucette, the lieutenant must surely have for 
 gotten you.' Leigh, with a slight sneer, an 
 swered Adele, saying, 'What a pity it is that 
 some folks forget to mind their own affairs.' 
 Adele cast an indignant look at Leigh. 
 11
 
 shrugged her shoulders, and then walked has 
 tily away." 
 
 "And then," inquired Mr. Fielding. 
 
 "I asked Leigh for what reason he spoke 
 in such an abrupt manner to Adele." 
 
 "Thoughtful little heart," murmured Mr 
 Fielding, aside. 
 
 "Leigh looked at me," steadily continued 
 Lucette, "then asked me the following ques 
 tion: 'Have you ever felt an aversion toward 
 a person which you could not account for?' 
 A thought flashed through my mind and I 
 quickly answered, 'Yes.' Leigh then coolly 
 remarked, 'Miss Lucette, take my advice. 
 Don't place too much confidence in Adele 
 Thorn.' " 
 
 "Indeed," said Mr. Fielding, elevating his 
 brow. "I begged Leigh to be more explicit, 
 but further discourse was interrupted by a 
 visitor." 
 
 "I must certainly inquire into this affair," 
 thought Mr. Fielding to himself. 
 
 "Tell me, Lucette, for whom have you felt 
 an aversion?" asked Mr. Fielding, stroking 
 Lucette's golden curls. Lucette, casting down 
 her full blue eyes, hesitatingly replied: "I 
 would rather not say because " 
 12
 
 "Because," interrupted Mr. Fielding, impa 
 tiently. "Because what? Speak, child." 
 
 Lucette solemnly looking up, tremblingly 
 replied: "Because he is one " 
 
 "Oh ! this suspense," interrupted Mr. 
 Fielding, clasping his hands together. "One 
 speak, Lucette." Lucette looked at him 
 amazed then eagerly replied : "Dear me ! 
 You look so worried, sir, but if I must 
 speak, I'm sorry to acknowledge that it is one 
 of Lieutenant Fielding's friends." 
 
 "Ah ! v returned Mr. Fielding, as he gave a 
 sigh of relief, "I'm heartily glad it is not 
 my son." 
 
 "No, indeed," continued Lucette forcibly. 
 "It is his college chum, Roderick De Monte." 
 
 "Too bad, Lucette, De Monte impresses 
 you that way, but I am overjoyed that you 
 think favorably of my boy, selfish as it may 
 seem," said he, rising, and clearing his throat. 
 
 "Think favorably of Lieutenant Fielding?" 
 emphasized Lucette. "Why not? He is 
 true, noble and to me, a very dear friend." 
 A tear seemed to dim her beautiful azure 
 eyes. 
 
 "Lucette," said Mr. Fielding softly, clasp 
 ing her hand and looking earnestly into her 
 face. "Child, my cherished hope lies in the 
 13
 
 fond expectation that some day you may 
 become a nearer a dearer friend to my 
 boy. In fact his wife." 
 
 Lucette with a burning blush mantling her 
 cheek tremblingly replied : "The lieutenant 
 and I have not met one another for at least 
 a year ; probably he may have forgotten me." 
 Choking back a sob that seemed to rise in her 
 throat, she huskily said: "Adele quotes, 
 'Out of sight, out of mind' ; but," she con 
 tinued, with a deep sigh, "I can never forget 
 him." 
 
 "Lay no significance whatsoever upon that 
 which Adele may quote, only in regard to 
 your lessons. Rest assured," continued Mr. 
 Fielding, kissing Lucette lightly upon her 
 forehead, "Bert will not be likely to forget 
 an angel, such as you are. Depend upon it, 
 Lucette." 
 
 14
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 UNEXPECTED NEWS 
 
 The door suddenly opened, and on the 
 threshold there stood the privileged little col 
 ored domestic, Jute, scrutinizing two letters, 
 which she closely held in her chubby little 
 black hand. Slowly advancing toward the 
 table, she placed them in front of Mr. 
 Fielding,- saying: "Dar am yo' letters, 
 massa." Then, perceiving Lucette, she puck 
 ered up her thick red lips and in a perplexed 
 tone asked Lucette the reason "dey were 
 gwyne to put dat new filter on de fauc't fo'." 
 
 Lucette laughingly replied : "Why, Jute, 
 child. To filter the water." 
 
 " 'N Leigh tole dis chile it were to cotch 
 all color'd matter," poutingly returned Jute, 
 as she walked away. 
 
 "Here are the poems you requested me to 
 obtain for you," said Mr. Fielding, as he 
 handed Lucette a neatly tied square parcel. 
 
 "Oh, thanks," joyfully exclaimed Lucette. 
 
 "I will leave you now, so you can look over 
 
 your morning correspondence. Be ready in' 
 
 time for our gallop before luncheon. The 
 
 15
 
 groom informed me that 'Snow' was in ex 
 cellent trim. Bye-bye," she laughingly cried, 
 kissing the tips of her fingers lightly to Mr. 
 Fielding, as she gracefully made her exit from 
 the room. 
 
 "How Lucette does love a gallop, bless her 
 dear little heart." Tapping a silver filigree 
 bell, which stood on the massive mahogany 
 table, Jute speedily answered the summons. 
 
 "Well, massa," she drawled out, arranging 
 a conspicuous yellow ribbon bow which 
 rested on the top of her frowsy head. 
 
 "Bring me some claret and ice, Jute," 
 quietly requested Mr. Fielding. Looking up, 
 he perceived Jute standing still. "Well, why 
 don't you go?" he softly inquired. Jute hesi 
 tated a moment, then slowly replied : 
 
 ' 'Kase I'se want to speak to yo', massa. 
 Dis chile's white heart be jist nigh broke to 
 smash," she said, stamping her little foot. 
 
 "That is terrible," Mr. Fielding smilingly 
 exclaimed. "I'll " 
 
 "Nebber mind," interrupted Jute. "Doan 
 yo' git escited, massa. Keep yo' temper, 'n 
 I'se tell yo' all 'bout it. Well," she ejacu 
 lated, "dat dar red- 'aired debbil, Larry Leigh, 
 tole de groom if he cotched dis yer nigger 
 'roun' dem dar stables agin to tie dis yer 
 16
 
 nigger on 'Snow's' back 'n dat would be de 
 las' seen ob a cloud," she sobbingly cried. 
 
 ''Don't cry, Jute," said Mr. Fielding, kindly 
 patting her kinky black hair. "There shall be 
 no necessity for such an undertaking. Be a 
 good little girl now run along." 
 
 "Massa," impressively exclaimed Jute, 
 stamping her foot and striking a defiant at 
 titude, "jist let dat dar red-'aired debbil scar 
 dis white heart agin' 'n Fse not be 'sponsible 
 fo' any Irish claret dat may be flyin' true de 
 air. 'N say, Massa Feelin'," she continued, 
 slowly turning up the sleeve of her dress and 
 closely examining her muscle, "Fse jist like 
 to git a few pointers from dat dar boxin' 
 master, I would," said Jute, emphatically, as 
 she sauntered in her usual slow gait from the 
 room. 
 
 "Poor child," thought Mr. Fielding, ad 
 justing his glasses. "Leigh and Jute seem 
 to be always in trouble." Then reaching over 
 and picking up one of the letters that lay on 
 the table, he opened it and read the fol 
 lowing : 
 
 NEVADA, October . 
 MR. FIELDING, 
 
 DEAR SIR: Your immediate attention is 
 required to settle a dispute arising between 
 17
 
 the parries who have taken up the claim ad- 
 joini.ig the Lucette Mine. They dispute th,* 
 water right. 
 
 Please forward the necessary papers at 
 your earliest convenience to avoid further 
 trouble, and oblige, 
 
 Yours sincerely, 
 
 CLAUDE GIRRADE. 
 
 "This is extremely annoying," thought Mr. 
 Fielding, a frown contracting his brow, as he 
 tossed the letter on the table. "I shall have 
 to attend to this matter in person, as 
 Lucette's interests are at stake. There is not 
 a moment to be lost." Then picking up the 
 second letter from the table, he keenly scru 
 tinized it. A smile lit up his face, as he 
 broke the seal, knowing full well that the 
 letter was from his son, Lieutenant Fielding. 
 An inclosure for Lucette he carefully tucked 
 away into his coat pocket, then he eagerly 
 perused the contents of his boy's epistle. 
 
 DEAR FATHER : I have asked for a leave of 
 absence, which has been granted. Expect me 
 home in a few days. I am enjoying tip top 
 heaith. 
 
 18
 
 Love to all, and a kiss for Lucette. 
 
 Your affectionate son, 
 
 BERT. 
 
 P. S. Roderick De Monte will accompany 
 me home. I have invited him to be your 
 guest. B. 
 
 "I am sorry," thought Mr. Fielding, shak 
 ing his head, as he closed his letter. "Sorry 
 Roderick De Monte will pay us this visit 
 on account of Lucette, whom I have this day 
 learned dislikes my boy's friend. Well, I 
 shall ask Lucette to try to treat De Monte 
 courteously if only for the lieutenant's sake." 
 
 Mr. Fielding's soliloquy was cut short by a- 
 voice outside, which was no other than Jute's 
 calling: "Jist yo' try dat agin, after I've 
 sarved massa." Jute slowly opened the door 
 from whence her voice proceeded. With 
 measured strides she endeavored to carry a 
 heavily ladened tray with extreme caution. 
 She tripped suddenly, however, and through 
 a frantic effort, saved the glasses and bever 
 age from coming in contact with the carpet. 
 "Good Lordy !" she exclaimed, frightened 
 to death, as she sat the tray upon the table. 
 "Heah be de claret, massa. Do yo' want 
 much or mucher?" she graciously asked, as 
 she proceeded to pour out the wine. 
 19
 
 "You should say, 'Is that sufficient?'" im 
 patiently declared Mr. Fielding. Jute misun 
 derstanding him, answered quickly: "Some 
 fish in it? Golly! Dis yer nigger will git a 
 'hole string ob dem from de cook in a jiffy." 
 Wheeling about quickly, she started to go. 
 
 "No, no! Come here," said Mr. Fielding, 
 calling her back. "I didn't say fish in it, I 
 said sufficient, meaning it's enough," said he 
 with marked emphasis. 
 
 "Oh! Dar snuff yo' want?" said Jute, 
 running to a side table, where she took up a 
 box of snuff. Before Mr. Fielding could pre 
 vent her, she offered it to him, but accidently 
 stumbled and fell, spilling it, consequently 
 inhaling some of the contents which imme 
 diately brought on a fit of sneezing, and 
 between intervals had she yet the courage to 
 pass the box to Mr. Fielding, saying: "Heah 
 am de sneezer, massa. Dar be one volley left 
 yit." 
 
 "Tut, tut !" said Mr. Fielding, rising, and 
 endeavoring to wipe Jute's eyes with his 
 handkerchief. "Here, child, wipe your eyes, 
 and try and be a little more careful," said 
 he, handing Jute a silk handkerchief, which 
 he took from his pocket. "Tell Lucette, 
 Jute," said Mr. Fielding, pouring out a glass 
 20
 
 of wine and drinking it, "that I will be back 
 here presently. To await me." He then 
 left the room. Hardly had the door closed 
 upon him when Jute curled herself up in a 
 large easy chair, exclaiming aloud : 
 
 "Well, I declar' to goodness. De idea ob 
 Massa Feelin' tryin' to umpress 'Webster' 
 on dis heah chile's cranium. Nuffin' could 
 make 'n umpression on dis heah nigger " 
 
 "But a piece of white chalk," chuckled 
 Larry Leigh, Jute's bugbear, who, during her 
 speech advanced quietly behind her chair. 
 Jute immediately jumped up and confronting 
 him. cried: "Go 'long wid yo'selb, yo' red- 
 'aired linnet," after which she flauntingly 
 turned her back on him. 
 
 "That's right," said Leigh, placing a bou 
 quet on the table. Then continuing with an 
 amused smile, he said, looking pertly at Jute; 
 "Call me a birdie anything you like from 
 a red-headed linnet to a bird of prey." 
 
 Jute glared indignantly at him ; then shak 
 ing her chubby little black fist, cried: "Yo'll 
 pray when I'se tell Missy Lucette how yo' 
 allus scar me," she stopped suddenly, as she 
 perceived Leigh making a grimace at her. 
 L'tterly exasperated, she rushed toward him, 
 shaking her apron in his face. "Shoo! shoo!" 
 21
 
 she cried. "Yo' menagerie ob birds, wid yo' 
 firy head 'n yo' round pie-face." Leigh 
 laughingly replied, as he placed his hands 
 upon his hips: 
 
 "May I ask you, 'Darkness,' what kind of 
 a conglomeration that may be?" 
 
 " Yo' be a gooseberry. Yo' natur 1 color, 
 'kase yo' so green," saucily replied Jute, who 
 by that time reached the door leading out to 
 the veranda. 
 
 "O ! ho !" said Leigh, following her up. 
 "You remind me of a huckleberry. You're so 
 black." 
 
 In Leigh's endeavor to see and have the 
 last word with Jute, his face came in such 
 close proximity with the door that she was 
 about to bang, that he received the full shock 
 of Jute's wrath upon his cheek. Hardly had 
 he recovered from the blow, when Jute 
 poked her little frowsy head from behind the 
 half-open door and cried out: "Yo' seen 
 dem stars and stripes dat time, I bet." She 
 banged the door quickly again and scampered 
 through the hall. 
 
 22
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 A TRUE FRIEND 
 
 "Well, if that little bag of soot isn't the 
 devil," murmured Leigh. Just at that mo 
 ment Lucette entered the living room. She 
 was strikingly beautiful, as she stood there 
 attired in a riding habit of dark green velvet, 
 and wearing a plumed hat which contrasted 
 well with her azure eyes and golden curls. 
 
 "What a lovely morning you will have 
 for your gallop, Miss Lucette," said Leigh, 
 bowing. "The groom informed me that the 
 horses are saddled and waiting." 
 
 "I am quite ready, but await Mr. Fielding," 
 returned Lucette, buttoning her gloves. 
 
 Taking the bouquet from off the table and 
 presenting it to Lucette, Leigh smilingly said : 
 "I hope you have not forgotten the rosebuds I 
 plucked for you a while ago." 
 
 "Thanks. You did not give them to Adele, 
 I see," said Lucette, taking the buds and ar 
 ranging them on her riding habit. 
 
 "Give them to her?" replied Leigh, in a 
 surprised voice. "I'd bestow them on Jute 
 23
 
 first, for her to deck her bonny black wool. 
 That I would." 
 
 "Hush, hush!" said Lucette, raising her 
 shapely gloved hand. "If Jute were to hear 
 you speak of her in such a manner " 
 
 ''Faith," said Leigh, interrupting her. "It's 
 the manner she would well appreciate. If 
 the truth were told, Jute can flit back about 
 as good a compliment as she receives." 
 
 "Come, Leigh," coaxingly asked Lucette. 
 ''Tell me why you will not be friends with 
 Adele?" 
 
 "Our opinions slightly differ. For instance, 
 she may fancy that posies look well on her 
 charming person, while I maintain that they 
 look far better upon the bush," said Leigh, 
 looking up at Lucette. 
 
 Lucette shook her pretty head and then 
 slowly said: "That's not a very satisfactory 
 answer. Come, Leigh, tell me the truth." 
 
 Leigh tapped his foot impatiently, bit his 
 lip, and then said : "Very well, Miss Lucette. 
 You shall hear the truth. One morning dur 
 ing Lieutenant Fielding's last home vacation 
 I happened to be strolling through the garden. 
 My attention was immediately arrested by 
 Adele Thorn's voice, as she uttered these 
 words : 'Lieutenant Fielding loves Lucette 
 24
 
 Westly simply because she happens to be an 
 heiress.' Her companion, no other than Rod 
 erick De Monte, replied: 'Yes, indeed, an 
 heirness to a mine that is expected to yield 
 untold wealth is a great catch, and I doubt 
 whether Lieutenant Fielding will let such a 
 prize slip through his grasp.' " 
 
 "Is it possible?" answered Lucette. "You 
 can now understand," continued Leigh, "why 
 it is impossible for your governess, Adele 
 Thorn, and I to be friends." 
 
 A frown quickly darkened Lucette's cheer 
 ful face, as she slowly remarked : "Do you 
 know, Leigh, I have always mistrusted 
 Roderick De Monte and can hardly believe 
 the story that he once risked his own life to 
 save Lieutenant Fielding from a watery 
 grave." 
 
 "Miss Lucette," said Leigh, solemnly taking 
 her hand. "I have your sincere welfare at 
 heart. Now rest assured if Lieutenant 
 Fielding loves you, it is for your own sweet 
 self alone. He is both noble and loyal. God 
 bless you both, as I know your little heart 
 is given " 
 
 "Hush, Leigh!" said Lucette, suddenly in 
 terrupting him, as a crimson blush overspread 
 her lovely shell-tinted face. "Not another 
 25
 
 word, as Aclele is very good of late and 
 Roderick De Monte not at all likely to trou 
 ble us with his presence here again, promise 
 me one thing. Allow all unpleasant feeling 
 to pass, won't you?" 
 
 "I promise you, Miss Lucette," said he 
 aloud ; but in his heart he took a solemn vow 
 never to trust either of them. 
 
 Lucette immediately extended her shapely 
 hand to Leigh, saying: "I am so glad that 
 you have made me this promise. Thanks, 
 Leigh, a thousand thanks." 
 
 "A thousand thanks? Why such a profu 
 sion of them?" asked Mr. Fielding, entering 
 the room. He was nattily attired in a stun 
 ning riding costume and happened to over 
 hear Lucette's concluding remark. 
 
 "Does he not deserve them, Papa 
 Fielding?" she asked, nodding her head to 
 ward Leigh. "Look," she smilingly ex 
 claimed, as she drew Mr. Fielding's attention 
 to the rosebuds pinned on her dress. 
 
 A luminous smile lit up Mr. Fielding's 
 cheerful face, as he said: "If the horses are 
 ready we had better start. Come, Lucette. 
 Oh! before I forget," continued he, turning 
 to Leigh. "Please have those letters ready 
 for the mail, Leigh." 
 
 26
 
 "Very well, sir," answered Leigh, bowing. 
 
 "Now let's be off," commanded Mr. 
 Fielding, hurriedly. 
 
 "Remember," cautioned Lucette softly to 
 Leigh, as Mr. Fielding and she passed out on 
 the veranda. 
 
 "How my heart goes out to that child," 
 soliloquized Leigh, gazing after Lucette. "In 
 memory of her deceased father, Colonel 
 Westly, my old friend, I would lose my life 
 to shield her from a single pain," then sigh 
 ing he left the room. 
 
 27
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 ADELE' s STRATEGY 
 
 "Golly, it am hot!" exclaimed Jute, as she 
 entered the cool living room, carrying a tray 
 of dishes, which she dexterously proceeded 
 to arrange on the table. 'Tse jist surprise 
 Missy and Massa Feelin', 'n sarve de lunchen 
 'rite heah." 
 
 The door opened noiselessly and Adele, 
 attired in a dark gray dress of soft cashmere, 
 which clung to her symmetrical form in 
 graceful folds, its somber color relieved by 
 spotless embroidered collar and cuffs, glided 
 quietly into the room. She carried a small 
 work basket on her arm. Seating herself 
 near an open window, she began to crochet. 
 
 "Gracious, Missy Adele," ejaculated Jute, 
 looking out of the window and nearly upset 
 ting Adele's workbasket in an endeavor to get 
 a breath of fresh air. "Dem horses worry 
 de lif out ob dis yer chile, but I'se gess Miss 
 Lucette's hoss Snowy's all rite, 'kase she ain't 
 a bit spit'ful." 
 
 "I rather think she resembles her mistress 
 in that respect," answered Adele sarcastically, 
 28
 
 as she removed the workbasket to safer 
 quarters. 
 
 "Ain't Missy Lucette 'n angel?" said Jute, 
 drawing a footstool near Adele. Then sit 
 ting down with a bump, she clasped her 
 chubby black hands over her breast and con 
 tinued, saying: "Fse jist lub Missy Lucette." 
 
 "And," answered Adele, under her breath, 
 "I hate her." Then looking up at Jute, she 
 cautioned : "Remember, always to obey your 
 mistress as I do," aside "not." 
 
 "Yes, Missy Adele, but sometimes yo' for- 
 git to do what Missy Lucette ax' ob yo'. Fse 
 nebber forgit eny ting she ax' ob me to do 
 'cept to bridle ma tongue, 'n' I'se kan't eb'n 
 bridle a hoss 'n' bosses are easi'r bridl'd than 
 tongues." 
 
 "What makes you think," asked Adele, ve 
 hemently, "that I forget to do what your 
 mistress requests of me?" 
 
 " 'Kase," replied Jute, frowning and puck 
 ering up her thick little red lips, "I'se heah 
 Missy Lucette 'quest yo' to do somethin' wid 
 dese yer ears 'n I'se see yo' doan do it wid 
 dese yer peepers," pointing to her eyes. 
 
 "Bosh !" sharply said Adele, "you are mis 
 taken." 
 
 "Doan yo' reckermember," continued Jute, 
 29
 
 shaking her head solemnly, "when Missy 
 Lucette wanted her white lace dress to wear 
 on one certain 'kasion, yo' nebber tole de 
 maid to hab it ready in time. Yo' forgit." 
 
 Adele looking up, softly replied, "So I did." 
 Then under her breath she continued : "I did 
 not forget that she would look overhandsome 
 in that same dress." 
 
 "Dar yo' see, honey," said Jute, emphati 
 cally, "dis yer nigger am rite. Den 'long 
 time ago when Massa Bert corned home on 
 his bacation 
 
 "Well, well," briefly interrupted Adele. 
 
 "Well, Missy Lucette gib yo' a little present 
 to gib him afore he be gwyne away. He 
 nebber receibed it. You' forgit," continued 
 Jute, earnestly, looking at Adele. 
 
 "You are dreaming; what present?" said 
 Adele sneeringly. 
 
 "Oh, I'se jist know what Fse be talkin' 
 'bout, honey. I'se see de little ibory kase all 
 rite," Jute answered, in a determined tone 
 of voice. 
 
 "A white ivory case?" repeated Adele. 
 
 Jute sighed, and putting her hand under 
 her chin, said: "If it hed been a black 
 ebony one, maybe dis yer nigger wouldn't hab 
 
 30
 
 paid eny 'tention to it. I'se jist hate black 
 objects." 
 
 "So do I," ejaculated Adele, giving Jute a 
 withering glance, then she continued quickly, 
 saying: "Oh, I guess Lieutenant Fielding 
 received the ivory case all right." 
 
 "I say he nebber did," saucily replied Jute. 
 "I say, yo' forgit." 
 
 "Little viper," hissed Adele, her eyes flash 
 ing with suppressed anger, "prove your asser 
 tion." 
 
 "I'se will, honey. 'Kase I'se picked it up 
 at de bottom ob de ravine. I'se guess it 
 must hab been full ob water when yo' lost it 
 dar. It be so dirty dis chile didn't recker- 
 member it 'mediately, till I'se forced it open 
 'n seed Missy Lucette's face smilin' at dis yer 
 chile." 
 
 Adele in a state of mental perplexity hesi 
 tatingly said : "I do recollect of Lucette 
 asking me to give to Lieutenant Fielding as a 
 parting gift the miniature you have reference 
 to. She being timid concerning the affair. 
 Unfortunately I lost it the very evening he 
 was to return to his regiment. Knowing 
 how badly Lucette would feel should the lieu 
 tenant not receive her gift, I searched every 
 where for the lost miniature, but in vain. 
 31
 
 Therefore I resolved not to mention the in 
 cident. Lucette luckily took it for granted 
 that he had the miniature safe in his pos 
 session, so that settled the matter. Now you 
 come to my rescue." 
 
 Jute glanced keenly at Adele and then 
 asked, in an inquiring tone : "Ain't it a little 
 too late, missy?" 
 
 "Oh, no," returned Adele sweetly, "return 
 the miniature, and I will have it retaken and 
 forward it to Lieutenant Fielding, just as 
 soon as possible." 
 
 "Dis chile was gwyne to do dat herselb 
 when I'se could count up 'nuff nickels," 
 pointedly said Jute, going toward the table. 
 
 "Come, Jute, let us seal our bargain," said 
 Adele rising. "Return the miniature; say 
 nothing about the affair and you'll receive a 
 new dress from me and a dozen nickels." 
 
 "Nebber mind 'bout de finery, missy. Dis 
 yer chile will git yo' de pictur' to send to 
 Massa Bert, only doan yo' forgit." 
 
 Just at that moment the clatter of horses' 
 hoofs was heard on the driveway. Adele 
 arose, crossed the room and looking out of 
 the window exclaimed : "Here comes Lucette 
 and Mr. Fielding returning from their ride!" 
 
 Jute ran to the window, peered anxiously 
 32
 
 out and excitedly cried: "Oh, Lordy! Yes. 
 I must run now and hab de cook serve de 
 lunchen 'mediately." Then suiting the action 
 to her words, she scampered from the room. 
 "Great heaven !" exclaimed Adele, clutching 
 the table, until the veins in her hands stood 
 out like whipcords, "what an escape ! I won 
 der if that little black wretch will hold her 
 tongue? How I detest Lucette Westly. Poor 
 simpleton !" she hysterically cried. "The idea 
 of giving me her miniature to present to 
 him." she "cried, clasping her hands to her 
 breast. "Him, whom / love. Never shall he 
 receive it. During the past year he has prob 
 ably forgotten all about her; and before hi 
 shall see her again I shall do all in my power 
 to make her forget him." 
 
 33
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 PREPARING FOR THE VISITORS 
 
 A merry peal of laughter rang out upon 
 the air, as Jute cautiously entered the room. 
 She carried a tray of tempting viands, which 
 she placed to the best of her ability upon the 
 table, barely escaping knocking over Lucette's 
 cut-glass rose-bowl, in her endeavor to over 
 reach herself. 
 
 "Gracious ! I wonder what would happen 
 if Fse jist done dat," she breathlessly ex 
 claimed, as she realized the impending catas 
 trophe, which she barely escaped. "And won't 
 Missy Lucette be su'prised to hab de lunchen 
 sarved here," she said, as she placed three 
 chairs around the table. "Fse jist picked de 
 whitest posies Fse could find in de garden for 
 Missy Lucette," she said aloud, arranging 
 them in the rose-bowl and placing them in 
 the center of the table. "There," she con 
 tinued, "they look jist beau'ful," giving them 
 a finishing touch. 
 
 "Well, home at last," cried Lucette, dash 
 ing into the room, looking radiantly beautiful 
 34
 
 trom the effect of her morning ride. She was 
 followed by Mr. Fielding. 
 
 "Here, child," she said, removing and toss 
 ing her riding hat and gloves to Jute. "Now 
 don't put them where some one will be sure 
 to sit on them." 
 
 Jute taking Lucette's hat and gloves, 
 eagerly said: "Gess yo' folks be 'bout starved. 
 Eberyting am ready, missy." Turning around 
 on her way to the door, she accidently 
 dropped Lucette's hat, stumbling over it. 
 Quickly picking it up, she vanished through 
 the doorway, dropping one glove in her hurry 
 on the floor, much to the dismay of Lucette. 
 
 "Well," laughingly cried Mr. Fielding. 
 "Jute didn't give one a chance to sit on your 
 hat; she just walked on it," said he, advanc 
 ing toward the table. 
 
 "Come and join us, Adele," cried Lucette, 
 seating herself. "I'm almost famished," she 
 continued, pointing to a chair. "The seat of 
 honor, Adele, sit down. How very thought 
 ful of Jute to arrange our luncheon here." 
 
 "Oh, yes," responded Adele, as she started 
 to partake of her salad. 
 
 "By the way," cheerily cried Mr. Fielding, 
 and at the same time producing a letter from 
 his coat pocket. "I received news in regard 
 35
 
 to your mine, and shall be obliged to take a 
 business trip in a few days as far as the 
 summit." 
 
 "My appetite is now appeased," said 
 Lucette, laying down her fork, "now that my 
 curiosity is excited." 
 
 "Cannot some one else attend to this mat 
 ter?" she anxiously inquired of Mr. Fielding. 
 
 "It is hardly possible, Lucette," he thought 
 fully answered. Then, passing an envelope to 
 her said: "This may interest you." 
 
 Lucette, glancing at the handwriting, 
 eagerly exclaimed: "A letter from Lieutenant 
 Fielding!" 
 
 "Yes," replied Mr. Fielding. "Bert has 
 been granted a leave of absence and is about 
 to pay us a visit." 
 
 "Lieutenant Fielding coming home," mur 
 mured Adele, in a hushed voice and at the 
 same time turning deathly pale. 
 
 Lucette looked at Mr. Fielding, and anx 
 iously asked: "Why didn't you tell me im 
 mediately of Lieutenant Fielding's expected 
 arrival? Why did you keep it such a secret? 
 Surely you received the letter this morning. 
 Won't I be delighted to see him?" she con 
 tinued, her lovely countenance beaming with 
 sudden joy. Impulsively rising, she eagerly 
 36
 
 embraced Adele, exclaiming: "Oh, what glor 
 ious good times we'll have now ! What jolly 
 good times ! Won't we, Adele ?" she cried, 
 giving Adele a little hug. 
 
 ''Oh, yes," answered Adele placidly. "I 
 have not the least doubt of it." She sud 
 denly turned, crossed the room and seated 
 herself comfortably in a low rocker, then 
 reaching for her work basket, she was soon 
 busily engaged with its contents, patiently 
 endeavoring to disentangle a ball of worsted. 
 
 Lucette lost no time in perusing the con 
 tents of her letter, which ran as follows : 
 
 DEAR LUCETTE: I am coming home and 
 expect to see my little sweetheart very soon. 
 
 How is Adele? Jolly as ever? She may 
 be pleased to learn that Roderick De Monte 
 will accompany me home. Plan plenty of 
 amusement for us, as we anticipate a good 
 time. 
 
 Goodby little sweetheart, until we meet, 
 Yours devotedly, 
 
 BERT. 
 
 "Pleasant news?" asked Mr. Fielding, as he 
 perceived Lucette folding up her letter. 
 
 "Yes, indeed," she answered quickly, then 
 with a perplexed frown continued by asking 
 Mr. Fielding if he were aw r are that Roderick 
 37 
 
 2865284
 
 De Monte would be likely to accompany 
 Lieutenant Fielding home. 
 
 "So I learned from Bert's postcript," re 
 plied Mr. Fielding, after a moment of hesi 
 tation. "Now, ladies, you must try and 
 make this contemplated visit pleasant for the 
 gentlemen. A friend of Lieutenant Fielding's 
 we must always treat most courteously," said 
 he pointedly, glancing at Lucette. 
 
 "De Monte coming here? Fate favors me," 
 thought Adele, a cruel gleam of cunning 
 flashing from her eyes. 
 
 "Now our guests being due so soon," re 
 marked Lucette, "I shall give orders for im 
 mediate preparations. There is not a moment 
 to be lost." 
 
 Mr. Fielding, seating himself, said to 
 Adele: "You must lend your kind assistance 
 to Lucette to complete the necessary arrange 
 ments." 
 
 "Certainly," responded Adele, as she gath 
 ered up her work. "I will to the best of 
 my ability, sir." 
 
 "Come, let us hurry, Adele," coaxingly 
 said Lucette, as she encircled Adele's waist 
 and led her toward the door. "I'm so anx 
 ious to begin, Adele," she excitedly cried. 
 They left the room together. 
 38
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 LUCETTE'S REQUEST 
 
 "Lticette does not like the idea of Roderick 
 De Monte coming here," thought Mr. 
 Fielding, as he leaned back in his easy chair. 
 "I wonder if Adele is not the real object of 
 his visit here. Well, time will tell." 
 
 He picked up a book that was lying upon 
 the table and was just about to open it, when 
 Jute rushed into the room almost scared to 
 death. Her dress was all besmeared with 
 flour. Her face likewise. She held a rolling 
 pin in her chubby black hand. Throwing her 
 self down at Mr. Fielding's feet and at the 
 same time putting one flour daubed hand upon 
 his knees, she tearfully cried : 
 
 "Oh, good Lordy, massa ! De end ob de 
 world am comin' 'dis poor chile be a sinner." 
 
 Mr. Fielding, stooping over, helped Jute to 
 rise. He then drew a silk handkerchief from 
 his inner coat pocket, and proceeded to dust 
 the flour from off his doeskin trousers, and 
 exclaimed, in a surprised voice : "What on 
 earth ails you now, Jute?" 
 
 Jute, apparently very much frightened, sob- 
 39
 
 bingly cried out: "Fse been down in de 
 kitchen helpitr de cook agin Massa Bert's 
 'rival, when Fse chance to look up at de win 
 dow 'n I seed a pair ob terble eyes fasten'd 
 on dis yer chile. I'se jist hollor'd myselb into 
 hysterics 'n de cook tole me if Fse didn't 
 stop dat 'fernal yellin' (boo-hoo), dat she 
 would make dis nicnac (displaying the rolling 
 pin) 'quainted wid ma coconut," simpered 
 Jute, rubbing her frowsy black head. 
 
 "Imagination," irritably ejaculated Mr. 
 Fielding, looking at Jute, and shaking his 
 head. 
 
 " 'Magination, nothin,' massa ; I'se did see 
 two terble eyes, sure as yo' born, and Leigh 
 yelled fo' me to sprint, 'kase he said dat gypsy 
 corned to cotch dis nigger, 'kase I'se pester 
 de lib ob all de white folks (boo-hoo). I'se 
 fear'd, massa, dat dat dar terible gypsy gwyne 
 to grab dis dark chile, so I'se wish, Massa 
 Feelin', yo' would send her 'bout her bis- 
 ness," then timidly looking around, she 
 wielded the rolling pin above her head, as if 
 to strike an imaginary foe. 
 
 "I mistrust those vagrants," said Mr. 
 Fielding, apparently annoyed. Tapping the 
 bell, a servant appeared. 
 
 "Jute has just informed me that there is a 
 40
 
 gypsy woman lurking about the house, if so, 
 conduct her hither," said he, in a command 
 ing voice. 
 
 "Very well, sir," answered the servant, tak 
 ing his departure. 
 
 "Oh, massa, massa," cried Jute, despair 
 ingly, clasping her hands and clinging to Mr. 
 Fielding. "I'se don't want to see dat wicked 
 face agin. Surely she be posess'd ob de 
 debbil." 
 
 A slight smile flitted over Mr. Fielding's 
 genial face, as he took Jute by the hand, and 
 conducted her to the door of an inner room, 
 cautioning her to remain there until he dis 
 missed the gypsy. 
 
 "All rite, massa," replied Jute, in a hoarse 
 tone of voice, trembling with fright. "Gess 
 Fse say ma pray'rs, too. 'Kase she might 
 fotch de debbil 'long wid her." 
 
 Hardly had the door closed upon Jute 
 when the servant appeared and ushered in 
 Esperanza, the gypsy girl. 
 
 Silently she stood a magnificent specimen 
 of nature's womanly beauty. Her dress a 
 dark maroon skirt, relieved by an ivory col 
 ored blouse, which displayed to good advan 
 tage her beautifully moulded breast and arms. 
 Looped from one shoulder and carelessly 
 41
 
 crossed hung a scarlet shawl, the color of 
 which certainly enhanced the beautiful du^ky 
 face. Her glorious eyes, as Jute, terrified, 
 tried to explain, held one spellbound. They 
 were magnetic, large and lustrous, yet seem 
 ingly penetrated through one. Her hair was 
 inky black and braided carelessly in one heavy 
 strand. A string of pebbles adorned her 
 throat. 
 
 "Approach, woman," commandingly or 
 dered Mr. Fielding, with a majestic sweep of 
 his arm. 
 
 Esperanza eagerly advanced toward him 
 and extending her shapely brown hand, said: 
 "Kind sir, so I may read your future?" 
 
 "I did not send for you to read my future," 
 returned Mr. Fielding, sternly. "I do not 
 believe in such nonsense. I simply want to 
 warn you NEVER to cross our threshold 
 again. Go now," continued he, pointing to 
 ward the door, "and take heed of my 
 warning." 
 
 As Esperanza slowly turned to obey, 
 Lucette slowly entered the room and inter 
 cepted her departure. She had changed her 
 riding habit and was becomingly clad in a 
 pale blue linen dress. 
 
 "Stay, one moment," she commanded. Then 
 42
 
 crossing to Mr. Fielding's side, she asked, 
 caressingly: "You will not refuse me a little 
 favor ?" 
 
 "What is it?" he asked, abruptly. 
 
 "Please allow the gypsy girl to tell you 
 your fortune," she pleaded, then animatedly 
 exclaimed : "Allow her to tell me mine, 
 also?" 
 
 "Lucette, I cannot tolerate such nonsense," 
 retorted Mr. Fielding, impatiently. 
 
 "Oh, please do?" said Lucette, imploringly, 
 laying her hand coaxingly on his shoulder. 
 ''Please grant me this little favor. Won't 
 you, please?" 
 
 "How can I refuse you?" assented Mr. 
 Fielding, stroking her curly head between his 
 hands and looking tenderly down upon her. 
 Kissing her lightly then upon the forehead, 
 he beckoned to the gypsy girl, Esperanza. 
 
 "Come, woman ; proceed." 
 
 Esperanza advanced cautiously toward him, 
 her magnetic eyes fastened upon his face, for 
 the moment, then questioningly turning to 
 Lucette, she asked : "Thy future shall the 
 gypsy read, sweet lady?" 
 
 "No, no!" replied Lucette, quickly. "The 
 gentleman's hand first," she smilingly indi 
 cated. 
 
 43
 
 Esperanza slowly moved toward Mr. 
 Fielding. Taking his extended palm within 
 her own, she said : "Gentle sir, thou art 
 troubled. A great surprise awaits thee. 
 Clouds shall lower and life-blood ebbs away. 
 Tremble, sir, for thou art doomed." She 
 hastily continued excitedly. "Behold I see " 
 
 "Enough woman," said Mr. Fielding, an 
 noyed, withdrawing his hand. "Here is your 
 silver," as he tossed her a coin. "I cannot 
 endure this foolishness. Allow me to dismiss 
 this creature," he said, as he partly turned to 
 Lucette. 
 
 "Lucette," hissed Esperanza, the gypsy girl, 
 under her breath, then slowly turning her 
 large, dark, penetrating orbs upon Lucette, 
 she stood in dumb amazement. 
 
 "Come," implored Lucette, entreatingly to 
 Mr. Fielding, unconscious of the burning look 
 the gypsy girl leveled at her. "I should like 
 my palm read," she entreatingly said. "You 
 promised positively. You " 
 
 "Very well," interrupted Mr. Fielding, 
 curtly. "Have your fortune told if you in 
 sist. I for my part will retire," said he, 
 gravely, as he opened the door, which led 
 out of the room. 
 
 44
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE GYPSY'S PROPHECY 
 
 Lucette shuddered as the sound of the 
 closed door fell upon her ear. She glanced, 
 nervously, at Esperanza, then hesitatingly 
 said : "You may wait here. I'll be back 
 presently. I am so nervous," she inaudibly 
 acknowledged to herself, "so I'll call Adele," 
 then she left the room, hurriedly. Esperanza 
 left alone gazed slowly around her. A wicked 
 gleam overspread her classic features, as she 
 bitterly soliloquized: "So this is her home. 
 She" (gazing in the direction Lucette had 
 taken) "his daughter, aye, little doth thou 
 suspect, Roderick De Monte, that I, the gypsy 
 girl, shadows thy path. That I have gazed 
 upon her at last who bears the name I heard 
 thee murmur in thy dreams. Two years ago, 
 Roderick De Monte, thou must have been a 
 guest hen*. Two years ago we met. Thou 
 swore that thou loved me. Thou betrayed 
 me, and now thy wish is to cast me aside. 
 Fiend," she hissed, excitedly, "so thou art 
 tired of thy gypsy love. Beware, Roderick 
 De Monte, much as I love thee, I could hate 
 45
 
 thec more, and woe to her who stands be 
 tween me and thee. Ah, some one comes," 
 she exclaimed aloud. 
 
 "1 cannot find Adele anywhere," said 
 Lucette, nervously, entering the room, then 
 seating herself on a small divan, she beck 
 oned Esperanza to take a seat on the footstool 
 at her feet. "I am ready," she said, trembling 
 and offering Esperanza her hand. "Make 
 haste and tell me true." 
 
 Esperanza being seated, inwardly thought : 
 "How I hate to touch her soft white hand!" 
 Yet grasping it, somewhat roughly, she pro 
 ceeded, saying: "Lady thy life hath been so 
 far a bed of roses, hiding the thorns which 
 therein nestle, only later to wound more 
 deeply. A sudden gleam of brightness falls 
 to thy lot. A fair man a desolate home " 
 
 "Oh !" said Lucette, shuddering, a fright 
 ened look creeping into her face. 
 
 "Ah, lady, shrink not. List, thy future 
 I see it plainly. Tis dark dark as inky 
 night. Thou," slowly shaking her head, 
 "canst not avert it." 
 
 "Oh, you you tell me such frightful 
 things," cried Lucette, nervously, withdraw 
 ing her hand. 
 
 Esperanza, looking up sneeringly, asked : 
 46
 
 "Art them a coward? Can'st thou not bear 
 the truth, sweet lady?" She sarcastically con 
 tinued : "I foretell only what the lines in 
 your hands portray. See, a life is in danger. 
 It is death, death " hissed Esperanza, grasp 
 ing Lucette's hand and riveting her burning 
 gaze fiendishly on her pale face. 
 
 "If you persist in telling me such dreadful, 
 terrible things, I really cannot listen to them. 
 I shall die of fright," said Lucette, trembling 
 like a swaying bow. 
 
 "Thou must listen, lady," cried Esperanza, 
 clutching Lucette by the arm, in an attempt 
 to drag her from the divan. 
 
 "Mark ! a gypsy's prophecy," hissed she, 
 with a wild look in her luminous eyes, rais 
 ing her hand, she excitedly continued : "There 
 shall be bloodshed pools rivers crimson in 
 maddening flow. I see them now," dramati 
 cally, she exclaimed. "See them rushing be 
 tween me and thee." 
 
 "Enough, father, help," shrieked Lucette. 
 Reeling, she fell in a swoon at Esperanza's 
 feet. 
 
 "Have I killed her?" questioned Esperanza 
 to herself, as she gazed contemptuously down 
 on her. "Would that she were forever re 
 moved from my path." Quickly drawing a 
 47
 
 stiletto from her belt, she hesitated and then 
 thought: "Shall I make sure of her death? 
 Enough, that I have gazed upon her pale 
 face and behold her lying lifeless and helpless 
 at my feet. De Monte shall never know of 
 this meeting," she vowed, as she hastily 
 sheathed her stiletto. 
 
 "Hark ! They cometh." Looking around. 
 "To escape ! Ah, the window ! For the path 
 that leads to the cliffs." Hurriedly mounting 
 the steps which led up to the window, she 
 turned and cast a glance of hatred at the 
 prostrate form of Lucette, hissing: "Coward. 
 thou doth fear thy fate." 
 
 Her acute ear hearing a commotion in the 
 adjoining room, she suddenly leaped through 
 the casement window, just as Jute rushed 
 frantically into the room. Screaming and 
 flinging herself down beside Lucette's inani 
 mate form, she hysterically cried: "Help, 
 help! Oh, my poor dear Missy Lucette, Fse 
 knowed dat debbil killed yo ; killed ma missy." 
 Her shrill cry of anguish brought Adele, 
 Leigh and Mr. Fielding horror stricken into 
 the room. 
 
 48
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE ARRIVAL 
 
 It was the morning following the arrival 
 of Lieutenant Fielding and his friend, 
 Roderick De Monte that Jute was seen dodg 
 ing between the tall trees and the shrubberies 
 which abounded throughout the magnificent 
 grounds that surrounded the Fielding home. 
 
 She carried a large white bandbox. Occa 
 sionally she threw a glance behind as if she 
 were afraid of someone pursuing her. 
 "Golly !" she chuckingly exclaimed, in an 
 audible whisper, as she set the bandbox down 
 on a rustic bench, which was situated beneath 
 a large spreading ancient oak. 
 
 "Well," she thought to herself, looking 
 anxiously around, "I'se gess dis yer coon hab 
 got eben wid dat dar busybody, Larry Leigh, 
 now. He jist chased dis chile 'round de 
 house fo' de las' halb hour, tryin' to find out 
 what Massa Bert fotched dis chile home in 
 dis yer box. I'se got ma bref now, so heah 
 goes to open de luggage." 
 
 "Oh, a 'Merry Widow,' shore as yo' born," 
 she joyfully exclaimed aloud, as she quickly 
 49
 
 removed the large handsome white felt hat 
 from out of the bandbox, and which she in 
 stantly ventured to try on. Meditating: 
 "Swell, Massa Bert, you jist hit de rite size. 
 Sure as lubbers ponder." Then peeping again 
 into the bandbox, she drew forth a small 
 white case, which she nervously opened and 
 smilingly contemplated in curious, joyful sur 
 prise. 
 
 "Well," she soliloquized, "Massa Bert Fse 
 'spect jist nigh ruin'd hisselb gibing dis yer 
 black trash all dese walables. Golly! a real 
 lookin' glass in de box, 'n a neclace 'n de 
 errin's 'n de bracelets dar dey be, de 'hole 
 fambly. Dey look so happy dat I'se jist hate 
 to 'sturb dem, but I'se can't desist de temp 
 tation ob tryin' on de 'hole kollection." She 
 proceeded to deck herself with a lavish dis 
 play of the coral jewels, which she carefully, 
 removed from the box. 
 
 While Jute was busily engaged in adorning 
 and surveying herself in the looking glass, 
 Larry Leigh quietly advanced from behind a 
 tree and, perceiving Jute, laughingly ex 
 claimed: "Go on. Jute, you'd make a first 
 rate 'Marguerite' only your a little off 
 color." 
 
 'Tend to yo' own color and doan be so 
 50
 
 sneaky. Yo' be jist hoppin' mad kase Massa 
 Bert didn't fotch yo' home a present." 
 
 "I'll bet your whole crop of wool he did." 
 
 "Sure as lubbers ponder?" asked Jute, 
 opening her big shining eyes. 
 
 "Sure as a nigger wonders," replied Leigh, 
 with a spirit of mischief brimming from his 
 soft gray eyes. "And it was all nicely 
 wrapped up in white tissue paper, too," said 
 Leigh, gleefully, rubbing his hands together. 
 
 "I'se gess yo' ain't got it now?" said Jute, 
 curiously,- edging up to him. 
 
 "Guess again. Why not?" asked Leigh. 
 
 ' 'Kase I'se gess yo' red-head would set de 
 tissue paper afire long 'go," she said, laugh 
 ingly. 
 
 "I say, 'Smoky,' " said Leigh, winking his 
 eye, "maybe you wouldn't like to take a peep 
 at it?" as he drew forth a parcel from his 
 coat pocket. 
 
 "Yes, I'se would," returned Jute, bashfully, 
 advancing nearer to him, decidedly interested. 
 
 Leigh waited until Jute was close beside 
 him, then he quickly replaced the package in 
 his pocket, saying: "Well, upon second con 
 sideration I'm afraid your little black mug 
 would cast such a reflection on it that, really, 
 you wouldn't be able to tell what it was." 
 51
 
 "See here, doan yo' be so fresh," she re 
 plied, saucily, sticking up her nose and, pick 
 ing up the bandbox quickly, she walked to 
 ward the house. Before she ascended the 
 steps which led up to the house, she cried 
 out, triumphantly: "Massa Bert will tell dis 
 yer nigger all 'bout dat tissue paper business." 
 She then clumsily ran up the steps of the 
 house. 
 
 "Bye-bye, 'Blackbird,' " called out Leigh, as 
 the slammed door hid Jute from view. "My, 
 my." ejaculated Leigh aloud, "but her wings 
 need clipping! Indeed." said Leigh, thought 
 fully. "My object in coming this way was 
 by no means mere curiosity, as Jute probably 
 thought, but to keep an eye on our lately 
 arrived, distinguished guest, Roderick De 
 Monte. Here comes the man in question 
 now." Quickly opening a gate that led out 
 on the road, he passed through in order to 
 avoid De Monte, whom he happened to per 
 ceive coming that way. 
 
 Scarcely had the gate clicked behind Leigh, 
 when Roderick De Monte emerged from one 
 of the garden paths, carelessly carrying a 
 large red rose in his hand. He stopped 
 short and gazed after Leigh's receding form, 
 and then with a sneer on his cold handsome 
 52
 
 face, he remarked to himself: "That old fel 
 low is continually stumbling across my path. 
 Probably he is suspicious of me probably he 
 is right. Lucette Westly, I love," he solilo 
 quized, "and I swear she shall be mine. 
 Nothing shall set aside my purpose now 
 but Esperanza my gypsy love of the past," 
 he reflected a moment, then with a bitter, de 
 fiant leer, he thought, "I'll easily get rid of 
 her. I'll meet her but once again. Then 
 goodby to her forever. And Lucette ah the 
 very thought even now, of Lieutenant 
 Fielding and Lucette being alone together 
 for a moment almost drives me mad." 
 
 The morning breeze gently wafted the 
 merry voice of Lucette's saying, "Yes, yes. 
 This way," as she and the Lieutenant ap 
 proached. 
 
 "Ah. voices !" exclaimed De Monte aloud. 
 "This tree," getting quickly behind the large 
 oak "will obscure me until they pass by." De 
 Monte's face assumed an ashy hue, as Lucette 
 and Lieutenant Fielding entered through the 
 open garden gate, arm in arm, and sauntered 
 over to the rustic bench beneath the tree, 
 where De Monte was concealed. 
 
 "Surely," said Lucette, sweetly, to the lieu 
 tenant, "you must be fatigued by our long 
 53
 
 walk. Let us rest under the shade of this 
 glorious old oak," said Lieutenant Fielding. 
 "Now, dear," said he removing his cap and 
 displaying a wealth of chestnut brown hair, 
 the natural tendency to curl setting off his 
 broad, noble brow, "tell me, little one, how 
 have you passed the time since I have been 
 away," said he, lovingly, encircling her waist. 
 
 "I'm obliged to listen to their tete-a-tete," 
 thought De Monte, holding his breath in ago 
 nized suspense. 
 
 "Well," answered Lucette to the lieuten 
 ant's question, as she deftly arranged a beau 
 tiful tea-rose on her gown. "I devoted most 
 of my time to my music and painting." Then 
 quickly looking up into the lieutenant's face, 
 she sweetly asked: "And you?" 
 
 "Shall I tell you?" replied he, stroking her 
 sunny curls. "Well, by thinking little Lucette 
 had forgotten me." 
 
 "I never could do that," she said, bashfully 
 dropping her eyes and carelessly swinging her 
 large garden hat. "Yet you seem to have 
 forgotten me." 
 
 "How so, little one?" 
 
 "I received only three letters from you dur 
 ing your entire absence," said Lucette, sol 
 emnly. 
 
 54
 
 "Three letters?" exclaimed Lieutenant 
 Fielding, in a surprised tone of voice. "Why, 
 I wrote you fully a dozen." 
 
 "Strange. I never received them," an 
 swered Lucette, somewhat perplexed. 
 
 "Well, no wonder you thought I had for 
 gotten you, Lucette, but I have returned just 
 in time to tell you that I never can forget 
 you," he earnestly said, kissing her fondly. 
 
 "How eloquent !" blushingly returned Lu 
 cette, rising. "Allow me," she smilingly con 
 tinued, as she offered him the rose that had 
 been pinned to the bosom of her dress. 
 
 "Thanks. I'll prize this, said he, accepting 
 the rose and pressing it close to his lips. He 
 then placed it carefully in the lapel of his 
 coat. 
 
 "Lieutenant Fielding, your father desires 
 your immediate presence in the library," said 
 a servant, approaching the lieutenant. "I will 
 be with him presently." Rising, he turned 
 to Lucette, and taking her hand lightly, kissed 
 it, saying: "I beg to be excused. I will see 
 you later." Then running up the steps of the 
 house, he waved his hand and cried, "Au re- 
 voir." Tossed her a kiss and then the door 
 closed upon him. 
 
 "I beg not to be excused," said De Monte 
 55
 
 to himself, as he slowly came from behind 
 the tree. "I will remain here with her," 
 glancing at the door through which the lieu 
 tenant had disappeared. Then suddenly con 
 fronting Lucette, he doffed his hat to her 
 courteously, saying: "Good morning, Miss 
 Westly." 
 
 "Good morning, Mr. De Monte ; how you 
 startled me," said Lucette, moving to the ex 
 treme end of the bench on which she was 
 sitting. 
 
 ''No doubt you were so intently thinking 
 that you did not hear my approach. I hope," 
 he said slowly, "I don't intrude." 
 
 "Be seated," answered Lucette, coldly. 
 
 "I have enjoyed quite a stroll through the 
 grounds this morning. They look charming, 
 Miss Westly, especially the rose-garden." 
 
 "Yes, indeed. Mr. Fielding deserves great 
 praise. He has about the finest collection of 
 roses that are in this section of the country." 
 
 "It certainly must be so if this is a speci 
 men," said De Monte, keenly, admiring the 
 red rose which he held in his hand. "What a 
 very rich color," he exclaimed, smelling the 
 rose. "The perfume is exquisite." Slightly 
 inclining toward her, he archly offered her the 
 flower. "Surely, you will not refuse it?" 
 56
 
 "Thanks," returned Lucette, listlessly ac 
 cepting the rose and pinning it carelessly on 
 her dress. 
 
 "Good," said De Monte to himself. "She 
 accepts my offering," as a cynical smile 
 played about the corners of his mouth. 
 
 "I cannot conceive, Miss Westly," he re 
 joined, turning to Lucette, "how I shall ever 
 be able to tear myself away from this lovely 
 abode." 
 
 Lucette indifferently asked. "Then you 
 think of leaving us soon?" 
 
 "Far sooner than I wish for. Urgent 
 business compels me to make the sacrifice. 
 Lieutenant Fielding insists, however, that I 
 continue my visit immediately after my busi 
 ness affairs are settled. I hope my visit will 
 be agreeable to you, Miss Westly." 
 
 Lucette rising, frigidly answered : "Lieuten 
 ant Fielding's friends we shall endeavor to 
 treat courteously, most assuredly. Pray ex 
 cuse me, Mr. De Monte. We shall meet at 
 luncheon." Bowing rather stiffly, she turned 
 to go into the house. 
 
 "Decidedly cool," De Monte sarcastically 
 remarked aloud. A sinister expression shad 
 owed his face, as he nervously twisted his 
 mustache. "I'll win her yet, or die in the 
 57
 
 attempt. I'll abide my time, and then beware, 
 you sweet, pretty elf," soliloquized he, as he 
 hurriedly walked away. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE PROPOSED TRIP 
 
 Lieutenant and Mr. Fielding were seated 
 beside a table, looking over some papers, in 
 one of the most pleasant rooms the Fielding 
 home possessed Mr. Fielding's study. 
 
 "Well, son, not wishing to mar the pleasure 
 of your recent arrival, I did not inform you 
 immediately that I would be obliged to take 
 an unexpected business trip. Lucette's inter 
 ests are at stake. There is trouble concerning 
 her mine." 
 
 "That is an unfortunate affair," returned 
 the lieutenant, surprised. "I'm sorry. Do 
 you wish me to accompany you, dad? If so, I 
 am at your service." 
 
 "And spoil your visit," said Mr. Fielding, 
 58
 
 tipping- back in his cliair. "I'll not hear of it, 
 my boy !" 
 
 ''Well, if you intend going alone I insist on 
 going with you. I regret leaving Lucette so 
 soon, but I'll be sure to make up for lost 
 time upon our return." 
 
 "Well. How about our guest. Your friend, 
 Mr. De Monte?" anxiously inquired Mr. 
 Fielding. 
 
 "He will not alter any plans that you may 
 make in the least. De Monte intends to leave 
 us in the course of a day or so to attend to a 
 business transaction of his own." 
 
 "I thought that he was likely to remain 
 with us for some time," remarked Mr. 
 Fielding, surprised. 
 
 "He will, immediately after his business af 
 fairs are settled. The trip with you will be 
 new for me, dad, so let it be understood now 
 that I accompany you." 
 
 "As you will, my boy," said Mr. Fielding, 
 pleasantly yielding. 
 
 "I wish to speak seriously to you, my son," 
 said he, laying his hand gently upon the lieu 
 tenant's shoulder. "I am going to ask you 
 rather an embarrassing question. What are 
 your intentions toward Lucette?" 
 
 "Both gentlemanly and honorably," replied 
 59
 
 he, raising his truthful eyes and looking 
 clearly into his venerable father's face. 
 
 "Then you love her, my son?" he breath 
 lessly asked. 
 
 ''Love her, probably more than you even 
 dream of. But," said he, sighing and slightly 
 shrugging his shoulders, he continued: 
 "Lucette is an heiress. Were she a poor girl, 
 I would not hesitate a moment to lay my 
 heart at her feet." 
 
 "Your pride, my boy, then prevents you 
 from doing what your heart dictates," said 
 Mr. Fielding, rising and lighting his cigar. 
 
 "Frame it as you will, father, but I should 
 detest being classed as a fortune seeker." 
 
 "Who would be base enough to associate 
 your actions as such?" indignantly inquired 
 Mr. Fielding. 
 
 "Somehow, it has been whispered about my 
 regiment that I evidently have an heiress in 
 view. My comrades do not openly accuse 
 me of being at all love-sick, hence the rumor 
 it's the fortune, not the lady so much in 
 question." 
 
 "Could De Monte be the instigator of that 
 report?" inquired Mr. Fielding, suspiciously. 
 
 "De Monte?" repeated Lieutenant Fielding, 
 a look of intense surprise overspreading his 
 60
 
 manly countenance ; then after a moment's 
 pause, he continued, in a piqued voice: "I 
 regret, father, to see you disloyal, even in 
 thought, to our guest. Do you forget that 
 we are indebted to De Monte for saving my 
 life?" 
 
 "Ah, yes, my boy. But the proof the 
 proof," questioned Mr. Fielding, emphati 
 cally. 
 
 "\\hat more proof than when I regained 
 consciousness in a fisherman's hut after being 
 rescued .from a watery grave, I beheld 
 Roderick De Monte administering to my 
 wants. He was dripping wet and seemed 
 completely exhausted," 
 
 "I wish I could bring myself to believe as 
 you do," said Mr. Fielding perplexed. 
 
 "Ah, dad," reproachfully replied the lieu 
 tenant, slowly shaking his head. "You seem 
 to mistrust my friend." 
 
 "Are you aware that Lucette does like 
 wise ?" 
 
 "Well, no. I thought De Monte being a 
 handsome fellow, that Lucette would be more 
 likely to be charmed with him than other 
 wise," bluntly said the lieutenant. 
 
 "And were she charmed with him," hesi 
 tatingly said Mr. Fielding, "there would be 
 61
 
 one more miserable man in the world loving 
 her as you do?" 
 
 "Concerning love, dad," quickly responded 
 the lieutenant, "I believe in giving a woman 
 full sway. Her heart is her own to bestow 
 on whom she may please. Should De Monte 
 win Lucette I would resign my suit without 
 a murmur." 
 
 "Xever fear. I believe his attentions are 
 bestowed on Adele Thorn," said Mr. Fielding. 
 
 "By the way." said the lieutenant, seriously, 
 "De Monte did receive a number of letters 
 postmarked California. Probably he did leave 
 his heart in fair Adele's keeping after his 
 first visit here with us. If so I wish them 
 
 joy." 
 
 "Then it is a settled fact," remarked Mr. 
 Fielding, looking at his watch, "that we jour 
 ney together." 
 
 "By all means, dad," replied the lieutenant, 
 yawning, then rising from the chair, he 
 walked across the room and threw himself 
 clown upon the luxuriant leather couch. "I 
 have letters to write which must be ready for 
 the mail, so I will leave you for a while," 
 said Mr. Fielding, replacing a book on the 
 table, after which he quietly left the room. 
 
 The lieutenant reaching for a newspaper 
 62
 
 that happened to be lying on the couch beside 
 him, had scarcely become absorbed in its con 
 tents when he was interrupted by Jute bolting 
 noisily into the room. 
 
 "Oh, dar yo' be, Massa Bert." Then look 
 ing solemnly at him, she continued : "Massa 
 Bert, yo' nebber tell fibs, do yo'?" 
 
 "Never; never tell them," he seriously an 
 swered, jumping up quickly. 
 
 " 'Kase dis chile wants to know if yo' 
 fetched Leigh home a present all 'rapped up 
 in tissue paper?" 
 
 "Yes. 'I brought him a revolver," said 
 the lieutenant, in a blustering voice. 
 
 "Oh," said Jute dejectedly. 
 
 "Are you afraid of firearms?" asked the 
 lieutenant, in an inspiring military tone of 
 voice, looking keenly at Jute. 
 
 "No. Nor 'fraid of fireheads," she ener 
 getically said, striking her little black fist upon 
 the table. 
 
 "Come. Come Jute," laughingly said the 
 lieutenant. "I see you are dead against 
 Leigh. I think him a right good fellow." 
 
 "Massa Bert, dis yer chile won't 'spute 
 what yo' say, ony tell dat warm lookin' gen'- 
 man to hab a certain 'guard fo' dis yer nig 
 ger's temper." 
 
 63
 
 "Come along with me, Jute," said he, tak 
 ing her by the hand, a broad smile illuminat 
 ing his face, "and we'll settle this difficulty 
 at once." 
 
 "Is yo' gwyne to git yo' gun, Massa Bert?" 
 asked Jute, anxiously, as she left the room 
 joyfully with the lieutenant. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE CONSPIRACY 
 
 The sun was high in the heavens, the little 
 love birds that had flitted from tree to tree 
 so joyously during the pleasant early morn 
 were now quietly nestling among the trees 
 sheltered from the noonday heat. The peace- 
 full quietude that reigned within the magnifi 
 cent grounds of the Fielding home was re 
 lieved only by the little love birds' occasional 
 twitter and the buzzing of the bees that flitted 
 from flower to flower to rob them of their 
 sweets. The rustling of the dry October 
 64
 
 leaves signaled the presence of a woman who 
 \vas cautiously making her way through the 
 shrubbery. It was none other than Aclele 
 Thorn. Her dress was of a light green ma 
 terial, which was in keeping with the warm 
 day. Her hat, a wide-brimmed affair, was 
 covered with dainty daisies. She looked 
 cautiously about, turned, and suddenly con 
 fronted Roderick De Monte, who evidently 
 had been expecting her. 
 
 "For once, Adele, you are punctual," said 
 he, looking at his watch. 
 
 "I have just a few moments to spare," said 
 Adele, hurriedly, "so let us come to an un 
 derstanding at once. Shall we continue to 
 work for the benefit of each other's interest?" 
 asked he, his eyes anxiously scanning her 
 face. 
 
 "Go on," she sullenly replied, "I am listen- 
 ing." 
 
 "You love Lieut. Fielding," said De Monte, 
 slowly. "I love Lucette Westly. Neither loves 
 us in return ; great consolation, that. But 
 they shall in spite of every obstacle," he said, 
 a dangerous light creeping into his eyes. 
 
 "Then you have lied to me, Roderick De 
 Monte !" said Adele, in a deliberate tone of 
 voice. Then turning quickly, her eyes flash- 
 65
 
 ing indignantly, she continued : "Lied to me 
 by leading me to believe that Lieut. Fielding 
 cared for me. You have used me simply as 
 your dupe to meet your own selfish ends. I 
 told you neither of us would succeed." She 
 choked back the tears that already dimmed 
 here eyes. 
 
 "Not succeed when I have sworn Lucette 
 Westly shall be mine?" said he excitedly. 
 
 "Why have you led me to believe that 
 Lieut. Fielding loved me?" she asked in a 
 quivering voice. "Never has he breathed a 
 word of love to me," she continued, sorrow 
 fully; and, plucking a rose, she held it in 
 close proximity to her face, and which served 
 to catch her falling tear. 
 
 "Most assuredly," pointedly said De Monte. 
 "Lieut. Fielding cannot help but notice that 
 you are extremely reserved toward him; 
 naturally he feels timid about confessing his 
 love for you," said he hesitatingly. 
 
 "You really think so?" replied Adele 
 coolly, looking him straight in the face. 
 
 "I know it, positively," asserted De Monte, 
 as he sat down on the rustic bench beside 
 Adele. "Now, take my advice, Adele. Make 
 yourself over agreeable to Lieut. Fielding 
 whenever the slightest opportunity presents 
 66
 
 itself. Do not allow Lucette to stand a 
 moment in your way. Both you and the 
 lieutenant are handsome and charming. 
 You'll win him sure." Just at that instant 
 the sound of a bell was heard. 
 
 "I must be going," said Adele. "That is 
 the first luncheon bell. I'll meet you here 
 tonight," she said briefly, as she quickly 
 walked away. 
 
 "Ah ! She was about to turn traitor," re 
 marked De Monte, sarcastically, to himself, 
 as he watched her lithe form disappear among 
 the trees. "I have calmed her fears for the 
 present," he thought, "and I guess I can 
 depend upon her to keep Lucette and the 
 lieutenant apart until my return." 
 
 "Ah! Miss Westly," said De Monte, as 
 Lucette ran lightly down the steps, and then 
 walked over to the bench on which De 
 Monte was lounging. "Back again?" he 
 cheerily asked. 
 
 "I had forgotten my sunshade," she said, 
 looking around. "This must be it," cried De 
 Monte, as he reached down and picked up 
 her parasol, which had fallen behind the 
 rustic seat. 
 
 "Thanks," she returned curtly. "The sun 
 is so strong," she said, as she opened it. 
 67
 
 Just then the door leading to the veranda 
 opened, and Lieut. Fielding made his ap 
 pearance. Perceiving De Monte and Lucette, 
 he quickly ran over to them. Slapping De 
 Monte good-naturedly on the shoulder, said: 
 "Well, old boy, I have been looking all over 
 for you. Enjoying yourselves?" he inquired, 
 quizzingly, looking at them. 
 
 "Miss Westly and I have passed the time 
 pleasantly," remarked De Monte, with a 
 suave smile. 
 
 "How presumptuous," thought Lucette to 
 herself, a frown knitting her serene brow. 
 
 "Strolling about the garden, I suppose," 
 cheerfully asserted Lieut. Fielding. 
 
 De Monte, ignoring his assertion, quickly 
 asked the following question : "Bert, you 
 remember of plucking me a rose this morn 
 ing?" 
 
 "Yes ; one of our choicest specimens. 
 Why?" he anxiously asked. 
 
 "Miss Lucette bears the trophy of your 
 labor," said he, pointing to the rose on 
 Lucette's dress. 
 
 Lucette looked bewildered for a moment, 
 
 then suddenly glancing at the forgotten rose 
 
 which De Monte had induced her to accept 
 
 in his cunning way earlier in the morning, a 
 
 68
 
 sarcastic smile passed over her fair oval face. 
 
 Lieut. Fielding, somewhat confused and 
 surprised, made no outward remark ; but, 
 glancing quickly at Lucette, the thought 
 flashed through his mind, "Strange, Lucette 
 dislikes this man, yet accepts his offerings." 
 Then tossing off the slight depression that 
 seemed to overcome him, he smilingly said : 
 "By the way. Rod, old boy, dad is obliged, 
 I am very sorry to say, to take a busi 
 ness trip in the course of a day or so, and 
 I am to accompany him. Would you like to 
 make the trip with us? It is, I believe, in 
 the same direction as you intend going." 
 
 "Why ! Are you all thinking of going 
 away so soon ?" asked Lucette in breathless 
 surprise. 
 
 "Yes, Lucette. It is unavoidable. It is 
 business concerning your mine," said Lieut. 
 Fielding, seriously. 
 
 "You will surely come in contact with 
 some wild beasts among the 'Sierras.' I am 
 sorry you are going to that wild section. I 
 will speak to your father about this contem 
 plated journey. It is too bad all our en 
 joyment spoiled. Excuse me, gentlemen," 
 she said, brushing back a tear from hei 
 lustrous blue eyes. She walked quickly 
 
 69
 
 av.-ay, mounted the stairs with a bound, and 
 passed into the house. 
 
 "What a tender-hearted little creature," 
 said the lieutenant, gazing after her, sighing, 
 as he watched her retreating form. "She 
 imagines we will have to face danger." De 
 Monte appeared to be in a deep study for a 
 moment, then turning to Lieut. Fielding, he 
 ventured carelessly to suggest: "You leav 
 ing so soon ; probably we could travel part 
 of the way together." 
 
 "Good ; I w r ish we could induce you to 
 make the entire trip with us. The scenery 
 is divine. The hunting superb. You, no 
 doubt, have passed through the 'Sierras.' " 
 
 "Oh, certainly," De Monte drawlingly an 
 swered; then bitterly thought: "Twas there, 
 among those mountains, Esperanza, the 
 gypsy girt. fi rst crossed my path." 
 
 "Well, after our business affairs are set 
 tled, \ve will indulge in a perfect whirlwind 
 of pleasure. I wish to enjoy myself and 
 take a good rest before I return to my regi 
 ment." Offering De Monte a cigar, he said: 
 "We have a few moments yet, before lunch. 
 Cone, allow me to show you our aviary." 
 And linking his arm within De Monte's, they 
 passed down the path together. 
 70
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 JUTE'S OUTING 
 
 "Phew !" exclaimed Larry Leigh, wiping 
 off the beads of perspiration that oozed from 
 his brow. "It's pretty hot." Leigh had just 
 left the post office, where he had received 
 three letters. Assorting them, he quietly 
 remarked : "Two for Mr. Fielding, and one 
 for Roderick De Monte." Earnestly scrutin 
 izing the letter that was addressed to De 
 Monte, he remarked: "Soiled envelope, and 
 the direction mispelled. It's a mystery, like 
 himself." Placing the letters in his coat 
 pocket, he spied Jute coming toward him, 
 dressed in a white linen suit, and wearing the 
 new bonnet, "Massa Bert fetched her home." 
 She was strutting along the walk, tilting a 
 large rose-colored sunshade (evidently one 
 that Lucette had discarded), and unconscious 
 of Leigh's presence. 
 
 "Hello, Jute. Where are you bound for? 
 I hardly knew you. You look so 'swell/ " 
 said Leigh, intercepting her. 
 
 "How does this coon look in her new rig?" 
 she asked, turning around for Leigh to have 
 71
 
 a chance to survey her finery. "I'se gwyne 
 on a message fo' Missy Adele," she asserted, 
 with a slight little tilt of her nose. 
 
 "On a mash, eh? Faith, I wouldn't be sur 
 prised but what you could mash some ebony 
 dude." 
 
 " 'N ebony dude wouldn't bite as readily 
 as yo' red-errin," said she, tilting her head 
 back, and walking hastily away. 
 
 Leigh, gazing intently after Jute, raised 
 his hand, and was about to give vent to his 
 surprise, when "Criss," a nigger dude, hap 
 pened to be coming down the street at break 
 neck speed, and bumped accidently into 
 Leigh's back. Leigh, turning suddenly 
 around in an endeavor to see what struck 
 him, happened to knock Criss's hat off. 
 
 "Go 'long," sulkily muttered Criss, as he 
 stooped to regain his hat. "What yo' take de 
 'hole sidewalk fo'?" 
 
 "Hold on, Coon," said Leigh grasping him 
 tightly by the coat collar, "until we explain 
 matters a bit. Next time don't you try to 
 send your body through a man's shoulder 
 blade." 
 
 "I say. Let dis gen'man go. I'se lose 
 sight ob ma gal," yelled Criss, struggling to 
 free himself. 
 
 72
 
 "What gal? You mean the little nigger 
 that just went by," angrily asked Leigh. 
 
 "Yes. sah." 
 
 "You know her, do you?" 
 
 "Xo, sah. But if yo' give dis gen'man a 
 chance I will," returned Criss, endeavoring 
 to free himself from Leigh's sturdy grip. 
 
 "You will, will you?" said Leigh, giving 
 him a punch. "Willy-boy; well, you won't." 
 
 "Let go! Help! Perlice!" cried Criss, as 
 Leigh engaged him in an angry tussle. "Now 
 I am through with you you possum. And 
 mind now, don't you follow a decent girl 
 again in a hurry." Picking up Criss's hat he 
 tossed it toward him. "Skit," he cried. "I'll 
 scalp you. Do you mind that, now? Scoot." 
 
 Criss immediately took to his heels, and 
 almost flew down the street, much to the dis 
 gust of "Toughy," a little newsboy, who had 
 whistled up all "cle gang" to witness a real 
 live set-to. 
 
 "I wonder if Jute would be convinced 
 now," soliloquized Leigh, endeavoring to tie 
 his cravat that had become disarranged dur 
 ing the impromptu mixup. "That an ebony 
 dude took water more readily than the red- 
 herring." 
 
 "Faith, it's pretty nigh dusk. I have lost 
 73
 
 too much valuable time already, as Mr. Field 
 ing and the lieutenant depart early tomorrow 
 morning. Ha ! Ha ! Late as usual. The 
 first star out. Sorry, but it's all over," mur 
 mured Leigh, as a burly officer of the law 
 strutted by. "Toughy" and "de gang" im 
 mediately gave him the merry ha, ha, and 
 sprinted away eager for a chase from the 
 lone, foot-sore bluecoat. 
 
 74
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE EXCHANGED ROSE 
 
 Twilight was creeping silently on, as Leigh 
 raised the latch of the massive gate that led 
 into the grounds that surrounded the Fielding 
 mansion. The library was ablaze with light, 
 and it was there that Leigh quickly directed 
 his steps. Mr. Fielding and the lieutenant 
 was seated beside a large oak table looking 
 over some documents. 
 
 "Yes ; all our necessary arrangements are 
 at last completed, so now we are ready in 
 time for our departure," said Mr. Fielding, 
 with a satisfactory look at the lieutenant, 
 who was absorbed in the classification of 
 some papers. 
 
 "Lucette feels dreadfully depressed over 
 the prospect of our journey," said the lieu 
 tenant, looking up sadly. 
 
 ''Indeed she does, poor girl," assented Air. 
 Fielding, as Leigh softly entered the room. 
 "Good evening," gentlemen. Here is the 
 mail," said he, producing the letters and 
 laying them upon the table. 
 
 "Leigh, be seated a moment," requested 
 75
 
 Mr. Fielding, as he glanced at the letters. "I 
 have a request to ask of you. During my 
 absence I will entrust Lucette, whom I prize 
 as my life, in your care until my return," 
 said he, grasping Leigh's hand firmly. 
 
 "I have but one life to lose," he answered, 
 returning Mr. Fielding's grasp of the hand. 
 "Willingly would I lose it in Miss Lucette's 
 behalf. She shall, during your absence, Mr. 
 Fielding, be my special care." 
 
 "Bravely spoken," cried Lieutenant Field 
 ing. "I understand that Roderick De Monte 
 journeys with you," remarked Leigh, in a 
 measured tone, as he looked first at Mr. 
 Fielding and then at the lieutenant. 
 
 "Only part of the way," gravely replied 
 Mr. Fielding. 
 
 "Excuse me, gentlemen," said Leigh, rising 
 and looking somewhat perplexed, "if I ex 
 press an opinion. I don't like that man De 
 Monte. Take a true friend's advice. Don't 
 trust him too far." 
 
 "Strange, none of you seem to be over- 
 partial where my friend De Monte is con 
 cerned," said Lieut. Fielding, in an injured 
 tone. 
 
 "Pardon me," returned Leigh, a flush 
 mantling his cheek, "probably I should not 
 76
 
 have mentioned this subject; still 1 have a 
 reason for doing so." 
 
 "I know, Leigh, you are interested in our 
 welfare," remarked the lieutenant, as he 
 gently laid his hand upon Leigh's shoulder. 
 "So no apology from you, old fellow." 
 
 "Leigh," interrupted Mr. Fielding, "what 
 has become of Chesterfield's address. It is 
 very essential. I must have it." 
 
 "It is in your private desk, sir," answered 
 Leigh. 
 
 "Well, then," said Mr. Fielding, rising, "we 
 will go and look it up." 
 
 "At your service, sir," returned Leigh, fol 
 lowing in Mr. Fielding's footsteps. 
 
 The lieutenant, left alone, wondered why 
 Lucette had not as yet put in an appearance. 
 Hearing some one approach, he looked up 
 quickly, expecting it were she. The door 
 opened and Adele entered, carrying a chess 
 board. 
 
 "Good evening, Lieutenant. Alone?" she 
 coquettishly asked. 
 
 "Can you tell me what detains Lucette?" 
 asked the lieutenant, evading her question. 
 
 Always Lucette, she snappishly thought, 
 a scowl darkening her otherwise pretty face. 
 77
 
 She answered coldly, saying: "Lucette com 
 plained of a headache." 
 
 "Indeed?" said the lieutenant disappoint 
 edly, as Adele seated herself comfortably in 
 the dark leather easy-chair. 
 
 "I've lost patience with Lucette," petulantly 
 continued Adele. "She is the most whimsical 
 child I ever came in contact with. I insisted 
 upon her joining us tonight it being your 
 last evening at home. She consented, but 
 scarcely had I reached the door of her room, 
 ere she changed her mind, and indifferently 
 said probably she would see you in the morn 
 ing before your departure." (Exultingly 
 aside) : "It was at my suggestion." 
 
 "I regret very much to be deprived of Lu- 
 cette's company," said the lieutenant in a 
 somewhat hurt voice. 
 
 "Were I in her place," said Adele, rising, 
 "I would gladly sacrifice my feelings once in 
 a while to please my friends." Then, draw 
 ing near the lieutenant, she archly looked 
 up, exclaiming : "Oh, what a lovely rosebud !" 
 alluding to the boutanniere he wore. 
 
 "Do you really admire it?" he asked pleas 
 antly. 
 
 "And mean to have it," replied Adele, taking 
 the rosebud deftly from his lapel. "How fra- 
 78
 
 grant it is," she continued as she inhaled its 
 perfume. 
 
 "I don't wish to part with that bud. / must 
 hare it back again. Please, Miss Adele," he 
 said anxiously, extending his hand. 
 
 "Must hare it?" she answered, coquet- 
 tishly hiding the rose behind her. "No, no. 
 Just to punish you a little, I will not give it 
 back," she poutingly replied. 
 
 "Please, Miss Adele. Give me the rose," 
 he repeated quite seriously, and looked very 
 sternly at her. 
 
 "I'm so sorry," she said, looking amazed, 
 and at the same time tossing back her queenly 
 little head, "but I have already said no, and 
 I never like to break my word. It's awfully 
 sweet," she continued, smelling the rose, "and 
 there are plenty more in the rose-garden ; so," 
 she said poutingly, "please do not begrudge 
 me this simple little token on the eve of your 
 departure." 
 
 Lieutenant Fielding shrugged his shoulders 
 and resignedly said : "You having possession, 
 Miss Adele" 
 
 "Is nine points of the law," interrupted 
 
 Adele, laughingly. "The bud is mine. 
 
 Thanks," taking it for granted she had won 
 
 her point. Then, pinning the bud upon her 
 
 79
 
 dress, a radiant smile lit up her face in victori 
 ous triumph. Discerning the lieutenant's de 
 jected look, she exclaimed: "What a serious 
 face ! I shall be obliged to awaken Lucette 
 to see if she can make you smile." 
 
 "Under no circumstances shall I allow Lu 
 cette to be disturbed," replied he, seating 
 himself. 
 
 "Good. I managed to keep them apart for 
 tonight," thought Adele happily. 
 
 "Say, Missy Adele, Missy Lucette wants 
 yo' 'mediately," cried Jute, unceremoniously 
 popping her frowsy head in at the door. 
 
 "I'll- be with her presently," said Adele, 
 nervously glancing at the lieutenant. 
 
 "Al rite, Missy. Only doan yo' forgit," 
 said Jute, as she warningly lifted her little 
 black finger, before she banged the door be 
 hind her. 
 
 "Have you any message for Lucette?" 
 asked Adele of the lieutenant as she was 
 about to leave the room. 
 
 "My regrets that she is ill, and I hope to 
 see her before I leave." 
 
 "I deliver that message? Never," said 
 Adele under her breath, as she took her de 
 parture. 
 
 "All alone. Master Bert? Where are all 
 80
 
 the ladies?" inquired Leigh, entering- the 
 room ; after which he was soon engaged in 
 selecting a book from the library shelf. "Your 
 father was asking for you," he resumed. 
 
 "All right, I'll go with you now and we'll 
 find dad," said the lieutenant, rising. Both 
 gentlemen then went in quest of Mr. Fielding. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE CLANDESTINE APPOINTMENT 
 
 Anxiously pacing up and down the walk 
 in front of the Fielding home, Roderick De- 
 Monte suddenly halted. The full moon cast 
 ing its reflection o'er his face, revealed a 
 pallid, worried, anxious countenance. Step 
 ping toward the stone steps which led up to 
 the house, he paused directly beneath the 
 garden lamp, which was held in the hands 
 of a bronze goddess. Consulting his time 
 piece, he scowlingly remarked to himself: 
 "Adele is later than usual ; however," look- 
 81
 
 ing cautiously around, "I will peruse the con 
 tents of this letter, which I had almost for 
 gotten. Evidently from my gypsy love," he 
 sneeringly said aloud, a malicious grin set 
 tling o'er his features. Tearing open the 
 envelope, he perused the epistle, which read as 
 follows : 
 "Mine Own Roderick: 
 
 "The clays linger, the nights seem to 
 lengthen since thou hast left me alone. Why 
 dost thou roam? Three moons shall I await 
 thy coming. Should'st thou fail, a gypsy's 
 vengeance shall shadow thy path. 
 
 "ESPERANZA." 
 
 "Dare she threaten me?" said he, tearing 
 the letter to fragments. "I'll soon stop her 
 pretty warnings. She shall never come be 
 tween Lucette and I. Curse her !" he ven 
 omously hissed as he walked away, his form 
 lost to view mid the dark foliage. 
 
 De Monte barely missed Leigh, who, at 
 that very moment crossed the garden and 
 mounted the steps leading up to the house. 
 His acute ear caught the sound of a rustling 
 between the trees. He suddenly stopped, and 
 peering into the darkness, thought, "I wonder 
 if that can be De Monte. If so, I don't like 
 his actions." He then cautiously opened the 
 door of the mansion. 
 
 82
 
 "Roderick ! Roderick ! Where are you ?" 
 softly called Adele, who had just entered the 
 grounds through the garden gate. 
 
 "Late as usual. I have been waiting some 
 time," impatiently said De Monte, emerging 
 from the shrubbery. 
 
 "Congratulate me. I have seen the lieu 
 tenant," said Adele eagerly. 
 
 "Did you succeed in winning a smile from 
 him ?" 
 
 "If not," replied Adele, sarcastically, "I did 
 a favor for you. Lucette and the lieutenant 
 will be kept apart for the evening." 
 
 "Good. How did you manage it so ad 
 roitly, Adele?" 
 
 "Lucette complained of a headache, most 
 likely a heartache. I told her that she was 
 looking miserable, and had better not leave 
 her room. The little simpleton did exactly 
 as I bade her." 
 
 "So you had the lieutenant all to yourself," 
 said De Monte, with a smile. 
 
 "Precisely, until Jute informed me that 
 Lucette desired my presence. I was on my 
 way to her room when I remembered that 
 you were waiting for me here." 
 
 "Listen," said De Monte, "I cannot state 
 exactly how long I may be detained away. 
 83
 
 Should Lieutenant Fielding arrive home 
 sooner than I, endeavor to keep them apart. 
 You will be working for your own interests 
 as well as mine. Should I wish to com 
 municate with you, where shall I address my 
 letters?" 
 
 "We had better not carry on any corre 
 spondence at all. Impart every detail to me 
 on my return." Suddenly listening, he said, 
 "I thought I heard a rustling among those 
 trees. Probably we are watched," resumed 
 he suspiciously. 
 
 "Nonsense ; 'tis the wind," returned Adele 
 reassuringly. 
 
 "I wonder if Leigh, the old secretary, is 
 prowling about? At any rate, let us return 
 to the house. Most likely we shall be 
 missed," said he, offering her his arm. 
 
 "Very well," she said, as she accepted his 
 arm. "Lucette awaits me. So let us hurry," 
 she rejoined, as they disappeared through the 
 gloam. 
 
 84
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 RODKRICK DE MONTE's VOW 
 
 The lights were still ablaze in the cheerful 
 living room as Lncette softly entered, ar 
 rayed in a blue robe of silken sheen. Her 
 mass of golden curls was carelessly looped 
 in a soft knot which did not fail to hide the 
 exquisite shape of her graceful, snowy neck. 
 Gazing around the room with a surprised, 
 bewildered air, she exclaimed aloud : "De 
 serted ! No one here ! I thought I would 
 go wild waiting alone in my room. Such a 
 strange feeling is o'er me tonight a presenti 
 ment as if something dreadful was going 
 to happen. Oh, Bertie !" she cried, "Why 
 must you leave us so soon? All this miser 
 able parting just on my account! Dear me! 
 Dear me !" she cried with a burst of anguish, 
 as she threw herself down on a chair, laying 
 her golden head on her dimpled white arm 
 which rested on the table. 
 
 The door opened quietly and Lieutenant 
 
 Fielding entered. Perceiving Lucette he 
 
 quickly approached. Bending gently over her 
 
 bowed head he patted her golden curls, say- 
 
 85
 
 ing, "Hello, little one ; what is the matter 
 now?" Lucette, looking up, quickly asked, 
 "Oh, is it really you, Bert?" 
 
 "I thought I was to be deprived of the 
 pleasure of your company this evening," re 
 turned Lieutenant Fielding. 
 
 "I had a headache, but it has passed." 
 
 "Have you seen Adele?" the lieutenant in 
 quired. 
 
 "Indeed, I have not. I became very tired 
 waiting for her. She would object to my 
 leaving the room at any rate." 
 
 "Well, you are here," said he caressingly. 
 "I'm perfectly delighted," he continued, im 
 parting a kiss upon her snowy brow. "Now 
 I am happy," said he, leading her to the 
 settee. "Come now, dear ; banish that sober 
 look from your sweet little face." 
 
 "Bertie," she remarked seriously, "do you 
 know that I have a persentiment that some 
 thing dreadful is going to happen?" 
 
 "Oh, pshaw! Drive such foolish fancies 
 away," said he, laughingly. 
 
 "I have felt so queer ever since that gypsy 
 woman frightened me with her terrible 
 prophecy." 
 
 "A gypsy?" questioned the lieutenant, sur 
 prised. 
 
 86
 
 "Yes; I shudder to recall the scene." 
 
 "\Yell, where did you meet a gypsy?" the 
 lieutenant asked, amused. 
 
 "She came here to our home. Much to 
 my sorrow, I allowed her to read my palm. 
 She predicted such a fearful future for me 
 that I finished by falling into a swoon, and 
 she immediately made her escape by jump 
 ing from the window, all trace of her being 
 lost. Can you blame me in the least for 
 feeling nervous over your departure?" 
 
 "Attach no significance to this wandering 
 ranter. Forget all her ramblings for my 
 sake." 
 
 "Well, all I can do is but try," she re 
 sponded, a faint smile o'erspreading her de 
 mure little face. 
 
 "I trust we may return home safe and 
 promise that I shall never close my eyes 
 without picturing your sweet face before 
 me. My constant thoughts will be of you, 
 Lucette," said he, gently embracing her. He 
 then arose from the settee as the door sud 
 denly opened and Adele swept majestically 
 toward them. 
 
 "Beg pardon," she said, haughtily bowing. 
 Then with a tinge of irony in her voice she 
 exclaimed, "You here after all, Lucette!" 
 87
 
 "Yes," replied Lucette, "I changed my 
 mind." 
 
 Adele, seating herself beside Lucette and 
 glancing at the lieutenant, said, "Whimsical, 
 as usual." Then laughing lightly she re 
 sumed, "A great failing of Lucette's." 
 
 "Good evening, folks," said Roderick De 
 Monte, leisurely sauntering into the room, his 
 large eagle eyes resting inquiringly on Adele. 
 
 "I thought that they were to be kept 
 apart," commented he to himself. 
 
 "Sit down, Rod, old boy; make yourself 
 comfortable!" cried the lieutenant, motioning 
 to an easy chair. "Where have you been? It's 
 high time you came out of your shell." 
 
 "Mr. De Monte was obliged to seek solace 
 in the moonlight, owing to the ladies desert 
 ing him," said Adele quietly, looking at 
 Lucette. 
 
 "Accept my apology," murmured Lucette, 
 bowing. 
 
 "Mine also," said Adele, making a mock 
 courtesy. 
 
 "Ladies, you do me too much honor," said 
 the gallant De Monte, nervously rubbing his 
 hands together. 
 
 "I see you are enjoying yourselves," re 
 marked Mr. Fielding, entering the room and 
 88
 
 joining the throng. "That's right ; don't let 
 me disturb you. Have you those documents, 
 Bert ?" he inquired of the lieutenant. 
 
 "Yes, father; here they are. The papers 
 you mislaid, concerning the water right to 
 Lucette's mine," said the lieutenant, taking 
 the papers from his coat pocket and passing 
 them to Mr. Fielding. 
 
 "Ah, the papers !" repeated De Monte 
 under his breath. 
 
 "Thank you, my son. I think they will be 
 safe here," said Mr. Fielding, placing them 
 in his inner coat pocket. 
 
 "Strange that Girrade could not have 
 saved us all this unnecessary trouble by 
 searching the records," thoughtfully re 
 marked the lieutenant. 
 
 "That's the trouble," returned Mr. Fielding, 
 "the records have been destroyed and the 
 parties who have taken up the adjoining claim 
 take advantage of the situation. These papers 
 are of great value to me at the present time." 
 
 "Those papers shall be in my possession," 
 decided De Monte to himself, as a sinister 
 expression passed over his countenance. 
 
 "Have those papers recorded as soon as 
 possible, dad," suggested the lieutenant em 
 phatically. 
 
 89
 
 "Yes, do !" chimed in Lucette, "else the 
 gypsy's prophecy " 
 
 "Hush !" said Lieutenant Fielding, holding 
 up a warning finger to silence Lucette's fur 
 ther information on the subject. 
 
 "What do you mean, Miss Westly?" asked 
 De Monte, suddenly becoming interested. 
 
 "Oh," said Lieutenant Fielding, quickly re 
 plying for Lucette, "the little one here has 
 been told some dreadful nonsense of late." 
 
 "By whom, pray?" asked Adele, inno 
 cently. 
 
 "Surely, you all witnessed the effect it 
 had upon me," replied Lucette. 
 
 "Ha, ha, I understand," laughingly re 
 joined Adele. "You'll not want your for 
 tune told again in a hurry, dear," she said, 
 patting Lucette upon the shoulder. She 
 then arose and crossed the room. 
 
 "Believe me, never," emphasized Lu 
 cette. 
 
 "Where did this gypsy hail from?" asked 
 the lieutenant, seating himself beside Lu 
 cette. 
 
 "Hard to tell," replied she, with a deep 
 sigh. 
 
 "A gypsy?" questioned De Monte, in 
 quiringly. 
 
 90
 
 "Yes, it's not likely she'll venture here 
 again," responded Lucette, impatiently, 
 rising. 
 
 "A gypsy woman, did you say? What 
 did she want?" asked De Monte, partaking 
 of a small cup of coffee which Jute at 
 that moment offered him. 
 
 "Pray don't ask me. I am only too happy 
 to forget her," replied Lucette, with a shud 
 der, as she dropped a lump of sugar into 
 her coffee cup. 
 
 "\Yho, dat gypsy?" quickly asked Jute, 
 who was .busily engaged in arranging the 
 coffee service. "I'se say she be terrible. 
 She be de debbil's twin." 
 
 "Jute, you were not frightened one bit," 
 said Mr. Fielding, addressing the little 
 black midget. 
 
 "Oh ! sure massa," she drawlingly an 
 swered, in a mournful voice, and nearly 
 upsetting a steaming cup of coffee over 
 Mr. Fielding's trousers. 
 
 "She jist graved her image on dis yer 
 chile's cranum fo' ebber." 
 
 "Tell us about it, Jute," said De Monte, 
 as a perplexed expression settled on his 
 face. 
 
 "She hab two black snak'y eyes, dat 
 91
 
 when she looked at yo', yo' felt lik' a 
 'lectric battery craulin' down yo' back," 
 described Jute. 
 
 "Exactly," sighed Lucette. 
 
 "Her hair," continued Jute, "be de color 
 ob mine, on'y not " 
 
 "So curly," interrupted Adele, snicker 
 ing. 
 
 "Xo," Jute, vehemently replied, "it be 
 straite like yo' own, when yo' forgit to 
 'rap de tea-lead 'round it ebery night." 
 
 "Little viper," said Adele to herself, her 
 face turning a brilliant scarlet. 
 
 "Jute," said Lucette, reprovingly, "I am 
 astonished." 
 
 ''The negress' description goes for naught," 
 thought De Monte to himself. 
 
 "But missy," humbly said Jute, after Lu- 
 cett's rebuke. "What scar'd dis chile most 
 was de long red mark she hed on her arm." 
 'Tis Esperanza," said De Monte to him 
 self, his breath coming fast, his bosom 
 panting with suppressed rage. 
 
 "I'm glad I didn't see the red mark you 
 speak of," said Lucette. 
 
 "Mr. Fielding, you should guard against 
 those vagrants," asserted De Monte in a 
 demonstrative tone. 
 
 92
 
 "I hardly think we will be troubled again 
 by that class in the future. Come, gentle 
 men, suppose we have a game of chess," 
 said Mr. Fielding, crossing the room and 
 preparing the table for the game. 
 
 "Massa," said Jute, edging to the door, 
 "yo* jist carry a box ob rat biskit to hab 
 on han fo' dose gypsies. Den, if dey be 
 friens wid de debbil, he'll sho' dem sym 
 pathy wile dey be a kickin'." She closed 
 the door and made her usual exit by let 
 ting the tray fall with a crash, which set 
 everyone's nerves on edge in the adjoining 
 room. 
 
 "Jute's a case sure," said the lieutenant, 
 as he proceeded to start the game. 
 
 "Her tongue will certainly get her into 
 trouble some day," said Adele, snappishly, 
 seating herself. 
 
 "Enjoy your game, gentlemen," said Lu- 
 cette, rising; "we'll not disturb you." Placing 
 a footstool at Adele's feet and seating her 
 self upon it, she glanced over at the gentlemen 
 who were already absorbed in their game of 
 chess. 
 
 "Jute did not mean to be saucy, Adele," 
 said Lucette, looking up into her govern 
 ess' face, "I shall reprimand her when we 
 93
 
 are alone. Believe me, it will not occur 
 again." 
 
 Adele did not deign to answer, but bit 
 her lip in bitter resentment. 
 
 "The pawns are moving," said Mr. Field 
 ing, interested in the game. 
 
 "What a pretty rosebud," exclaimed Lu- 
 cette, as she espied the bud on Adele's cor 
 sage. 
 
 "Lovely," replied Adele, glancing at the 
 bud which certainly relieved the monotony 
 of her dark dress. Then to herself she tri 
 umphantly said: "I'm so glad she noticed it." 
 
 "Where did you get it, if I may ask. 
 You seldom wear a rose." 
 
 "The lieutenant gave it to me." 
 
 "Indeed, when?" asked Lucette, opening 
 her large azure eyes with intense surprise. 
 
 "The game is looking somewhat con 
 fused, gentlemen. Now I have to make a 
 careful move," said the lieutenant thought 
 fully. 
 
 "When?" answered Adele, not noticing the 
 lieutenant's interruption. "Why, during a 
 brief happy hour spent with the lieutenant 
 when he presented me with this token." 
 
 "Things are looking shady. I am com- 
 94
 
 pelled to make this move," said DeMonte to 
 the lieutenant. 
 
 "The rosebud I gave him," sadly said 
 Lucette to herself. 
 
 "It's only a trifle for a farewell," cried 
 Adele exultingly, as she noticed the demure 
 look on Lucette's countenance. 
 
 " Ik-ware! You are on the verge of losing 
 your knight, my son," anxiously exclaimed 
 Mr. Fielding. 
 
 "So Lieutenant Fielding really gave that 
 bud to you," asked Lucette hesitatingly. 
 
 "If you doubt my word the lieutenant will 
 verify it," sarcastically answered Adele. 
 
 "Checkmated. I'm done for lost!" cried 
 Lieutenant Fielding, leaning back in his 
 chair. 
 
 "Bertie gave her the rosebud because he 
 thought DeMonte's flowers were acceptable 
 to me," said Lucette to herself, as she arose 
 and walked over to the chess table. 
 
 "She's piqued," sneeringly thought Adele, 
 as her glance followed Lucette across the 
 room. 
 
 \Yell, gentlemen, who lost the game?" in 
 quired Lucette. 
 
 "I did, to be sure," said the lieutenant, 
 95
 
 arising and lighting a cigar. His announce 
 ment was greeted by a peal of laughter. 
 
 "He always shall if it lies in my power," 
 said DeMonte, in an undertone to Adele. 
 
 "I suppose you will have to leave very 
 early in the morning to get a good start on 
 your journey," remarked Lucette to Mr. 
 Fielding. 
 
 "Yes, far too early for the ladies to rise. 
 Our good nights must now be said," he an 
 swered. 
 
 "Good night, Massa Feelin," said Jute, 
 whimpering. "Good night Massa Bert, Fse 
 hope yo' both come home soon," said she 
 backing toward the door, " 'N, Massa, if yo' 
 come across a coal mine in dem dar diggins, 
 jist yo' recomember Jute we be de same 
 color two ob a kind," she sobbingly cried. 
 Then, shaking hands with all, she reluctantly 
 passed from the room. 
 
 "Good night and pleasant dreams," said 
 Lucette, extending her hand to DeMonte. 
 
 "Pardon, Miss Westly, one who dares to 
 dream of thee," murmured DeMonte, press 
 ing her little dimpled hand to his lips. 
 
 "Such impertinence," declared Lucette to 
 herself, quickly withdrawing her hand and 
 turning away from his leering gaze. 
 96
 
 "Remember my instructions," DeMonte 
 cautiously whispered to Adele, who at that 
 instant happened to stand near him. 
 
 "Good night, Bertie," softly said Lucette. 
 gazing frankly into the lieutenant's handsome 
 sad face. 
 
 "Good night and God bless you, and send 
 you and Papa Fielding home safe." 
 
 "My darling," he whispered, bending low 
 and kissing Lucette's hand fervently. Turning 
 quickly to Mr. Fielding, Lucette leaned her 
 head upon his shoulder, trying to stay the 
 tears that came coursing down her cheek, and 
 in a choking voice cried : "Oh, Papa Field 
 ing, my heart is just breaking." 
 
 "Come, come, Lucette, you unnerve me. 
 \Ve are not going away forever. Cheer up, my 
 pet, we shall be back before you have time 
 to miss us. Eh, my boy," said he arresting 
 the lieutenant's attention. 
 
 "Of course we will," assuringly replied the 
 lieutenant, endeavoring to be cheerful. "Now, 
 Adele, you must try and cheer Lucette up a 
 bit." 
 
 "You may depend upon me, sir. A pleasant 
 journey to you, Mr. Fielding." she graciously 
 said, extending him her hand. Then archly, 
 97
 
 looking at the lieutenant, said : "The time will 
 seem long until we meet again." 
 
 "Oh, thanks. You are very kind," said he, 
 bowing to Adele. 
 
 "Come, Lucette," as she parted the cur 
 tains of the arched doorway for Lucette to 
 precede her. Lucette hesitated for an instant, 
 then throwing her arms around Mr. Fielding's 
 neck she embraced him. Bowing to the lieu 
 tenant and DeMonte, both of whom kissed 
 their hand to her, she passed from their view, 
 followed by Adele through the parted por- 
 tiers. 
 
 "I had no idea Lucette would take our 
 journey so much to heart," sorrowfully com 
 mented Mr. Fielding. 
 
 "Miss Lucette is certainly attached to you. 
 Any man might envy you." 
 
 "I would lose my life for her," said Mr. 
 Fielding, looking DeMonte full in the face. 
 
 "Any man might where she is concerned," 
 returned DeMonte. 
 
 "By Jove, midnight ! It is time to retire. 
 We have only a few hours for rest before we 
 will have to be on the wing," said the lieu 
 tenant, as the old Mission clock finished 
 striking twelve. "By the way, do we stop 
 over for a day at the Summit, father?" 
 98
 
 "Yes, it will make us arrive one day later 
 at the mine, but I must see Chesterfield." 
 
 "One day in advance of them," excitedly 
 thought DeMonte to himself as he paid par 
 ticular attention to the plan which Mr. Field 
 ing had just announced. 
 
 "Come, 'Rod,' old chum, join us in a night 
 cap," invitingly cried the lieutenant, pouring 
 out some brandy 
 
 "A safe trip, gentlemen," said DeMonte, 
 tilting and then draining his glass. "Good 
 night," he resumed abruptly. 
 
 "I'll follow suit, dad, and have you up at 
 daybreak," said the lieutenant, affectionately 
 laying his hand on his father's shoulder, then 
 followed in the footsteps of DeMonte. 
 
 "How my heart aches tonight," sorrow 
 fully said Mr. Fielding aloud. Directing his 
 steps toward a small door he paused a mo 
 ment before entering. Continuing, "Lucette, 
 why have you unnerved me? Poor child, 
 poor child." He opened the door and retired 
 to an inner room to rest. 
 
 99
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THE BLOW 
 
 It was a little past midnight as Leigh en 
 tered the sitting room. "Evidently all have 
 retired," said he to himself. Crossing over to 
 the table, he began a search which resulted 
 in the finding of a bunch of keys which he 
 had previously left there. 
 
 "Ah ! Here are the keys, exactly where I 
 left them. I don't think it will be possible 
 for me to sleep the sleep of the just, so long 
 as Roderick DeMonte is under this roof. I 
 don't like him, and Leigh, old boy, your in 
 stinct was never wrong yet," he acknowledged 
 to himself. "Ah !" he exclaimed aloud strik 
 ing a listening attitude, as a footstep made 
 audible by the crushing of the dry October 
 leaves that fell on the garden path met his 
 ear. He quickly turned off the light, parted 
 the curtains and gazed out through the open 
 window. 
 
 "A man crossing through the shrubberies. It 
 is Roderick DeMonte. Where can he be go 
 ing in that direction at this unseemly hour 
 of the night? I'll find out," thought he. 
 100
 
 Quickly suiting the action to his thought, 
 he hastily left the room and went out into the 
 night. 
 
 "Long past midnight, and still not in 
 clined to sleep. My brain is on fire," ex 
 claimed DeMonte aloud as he strolled 
 through the Fielding grounds. "Little do 
 they suspect that I hold an interest in the 
 claim adjoining the Lucette Mine. I am 
 over anxious to possess their water right. 
 Now to obtain and then destroy the papers 
 that are now in Mr. Fielding's possession. 
 I have made up my mind the course to 
 pursue. One man s word is as good as an 
 other's. A rich mine in my possession and 
 then to woo and win the fair Lucette. My 
 gypsy love," he soliloquized, "I shall en 
 deavor to see but once again. Shall I be re 
 ceived with kisses or curses' either will be 
 alike to me now, since I have learned to 
 love Lucette." Then, with a mad fury rush 
 ing through his brain, he cried aloud: "I'd 
 sink my soul in perdition for her sweet sake. 
 She holds -full power to make an angel or 
 a demon of me, which "You are," said 
 Larry Leigh, bravely confronting him. 
 
 "Stand back ! \Yho are you ?" returned 
 DeMonte, startled as Leigh flashed a lantern 
 101
 
 in his face. "Yon," cried DeMonte, recog 
 nizing Leigh, his face turning livid with 
 suppressed rage. "What means this insult, 
 wretch ?" 
 
 "That you had better not utter your 
 thoughts aloud. It's liable to give one the 
 impression that you are plotting mischief," 
 said Leigh, bestowing upon him a keen, pen 
 etrating look. 
 
 "Ha! Ha!" sneeringly laughed DeMonte. 
 "Strange a guest of Mr. Fielding's cannot 
 amuse himself by indulging in a moonlight 
 rehearsal of a favorite scene without being 
 insulted by a mere hireling. Were Mr. Field 
 ing to know of this, menial, your position 
 would be at stake." 
 
 "And you dare not tell him. Your honor 
 would be at stake," he gallantly returned. 
 
 "Could he have overheard all?" thought 
 DeMonte, biting his bloodless lips. Then he 
 made an effort to pass Leigh, and, thwarted 
 in this, he venomously cried : "Enough, dog, 
 allow me to pass. You shall suffer for this," 
 he resumed, threateningly. 
 
 "Not until you hear what I have to say. 
 
 Remember, you are a guest here and have 
 
 been treated courteously, but when you un- 
 
 derhandedly aspire for the love of Miss 
 
 102
 
 Westly, you are acting the part of a traitor. 
 You are trying to rob your benefactor, Lieu 
 tenant Fielding, of a jewel (Lticette Westly), 
 who is as far above you as the stars are the 
 earth." 
 
 "}'on dare accuse me of being a traitor 
 to one of this household," hotly retored De- 
 Monte, making a vicious move toward Leigh. 
 "Scoundrel! Take back your words," he 
 cried in a furious manner. 
 
 "Xever," answered Leigh, defiantly. 
 
 "Liar! Hireling!" cried DeMonte, pale 
 with rage as his uplifted heavy cane was 
 about to descend on Leigh's head. 
 
 "Villain take that," cried Leigh, as he 
 dashed the cane from DeMonte's hand and 
 struck him a severe blow with his fist which 
 felled him to the ground. 
 
 103
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 ESPERANZA'S MOUNTAIN HUT 
 
 The winter's storm raged through the 
 rugged canyon. The frequent peals of 
 thunder seemed to split the surrounding 
 mountains asunder, and the lightning which 
 flashed incessantly illuminated the destruc 
 tion of the tempest's mad fury. The storm 
 abated for a moment as the pale tear-stained 
 face of a woman peered anxiously from the 
 window of a rough hut which was situated 
 in the heart of the canyon. Again and 
 again, anxiously was the face pressed against 
 the pane of glass only to be driven back by 
 the wild hurricane in its renewed fury 
 driven back to contemplate with anguish the 
 misery that was apparent in the room of that 
 roughly furnished hut. 
 
 Kneeling beside a pallet, which was covered 
 with some dry skins, crouched the form of the 
 sad, pale-faced woman, bowed in grief. Sud 
 denly raising her head, she bent over the 
 pallet and lightly kissed the brow of a slum 
 bering child. "Sleep, sweet babe," she gently 
 murmured, gazing with soulful intensity at 
 104
 
 the child. "Sleep the blessed sleep that shall 
 prove a balm for thy malady." 
 
 "What a terrible storm," she cried, shud 
 dering as a flash of lightning and a crash of 
 thunder rent the air. "Alas ! My poor ailing 
 darling," she mournfully cried, as the child 
 awoke and piteously moaned. "Thou art nigh 
 unto death, my babe." 
 
 "Oh, Roderick, father of my child, why 
 doth thou linger? Oh, my babe, thou must 
 not die," she frantically cried, as she bent 
 over the little one caressingly. "Thou must 
 not die, thou must live," she cried pathetic 
 ally. "I ive to kiss thy father's lips ; to smile 
 upon his face ; to receive his blessing. Howl 
 ye winds," she cried fearlessly, as the hut 
 creaked and rocked with the velocity of the 
 tempest's fury. "Doth thou wail tidings of 
 my babe's death?" A loud peal of thunder 
 with a diabolical crash seemed to answer. 
 "That unearthly sound," she cried, clutching 
 the scant shawl that meagerly covered her 
 shoulders. "Is it a warning?" she tremblingly 
 cried. "Hark ! The coyotes. 'Tis their mourn 
 ful wail, driven wild by cold and hunger. 
 Do they scent death? No, my babe," she wild 
 ly cried, "naught shall tear thee from thy 
 mother's breast," she frantically knelt beside 
 105
 
 the sick child and buried her head in her 
 hands. 
 
 She was suddenly aroused by a loud knock 
 at the door and a voice cried out: "Let me 
 in ! Let me in !" 
 
 "Some one in distress," she cried excitedly, 
 as she proceeded to unbar the door. 
 
 "Roderick ! Thou ?" she cried, overwhelmed 
 with surprise, as DeMonte entered the hut 
 covered with drifting snow. "My love, my 
 life! Roderick, welcome to the gypsy's hut." 
 she pathetically cried, endeavoring to embrace 
 him. 
 
 "I came nigh losing my way," said he in 
 a hoarse voice, frowning. And, casting his 
 wet coat aside, "I called out several times," 
 resumed he, seating himself on a rude bench. 
 
 'Twas thy cry I heard in the distance, Rod 
 erick, clearest," she caressingly said, as she 
 knelt down by his side. "Thou art welcome 
 home," she resumed, her large, luminous eyes 
 burning with love, looking upon his stern, cold 
 face. "How lonely I have been " 
 
 "Come! Come, Esperanza," he said, ill at 
 ease. "I am nearly frozen and completely 
 famished." Rising quickly, she imparted a 
 kiss on his cheek. 
 
 "How selfish I am, dearest," she said, 
 106
 
 crossing to the cupboard, procuring and then 
 arranging some viands on the table. "For 
 give me. I forgot everything, enraptured by 
 thy presence. Thou art hungry thou shalt 
 eat. Thou are cold there is the warm fire," 
 she happily said, picking up and throwing in 
 an extra log. 
 
 "How unprepared she will be to receive 
 the blow," thought DeMonte, as he silently 
 gazed upon her as she was trying to fan 
 the dying flame. 
 
 "Thy supper I have prepared, love," she 
 eagerly said, crossing over to the table. "Now 
 eat of it," she pleasantly resumed, nodding 
 her head and lifting up his drenched coat, 
 she affectionately kissed it before she hung 
 it up to dry. 
 
 "The food chokes me," said DeMonte 
 doggedly, after he had partaken of a couple 
 of mouthfuls, then taking a small flask from 
 his pocket, he said, "This is what fires one's 
 brain." He placed the flask to his lips, drained 
 it and then threw it heavily upon the table, 
 where it fell with a crash. 
 
 "Why, Roderick, doth thou act so strange?" 
 
 anxiously questioned Esperanza, rushing 
 
 quickly to his side. Then kneeling down, her 
 
 pale face uplifted to his in surprise, she placed 
 
 107
 
 her arms lovingly about his neck, murmuring; 
 "Art thou troubled, Roderick?" 
 
 "Troubled," he replied, rising and casting 
 her ruthlessly aside. "Yes, better know the 
 truth at once, Esperanza," he said, looking 
 at her defiantly, "we must part." 
 
 "No ! No !" she wildly cried, desperately 
 clinging to him and tearfully pleading. "Un 
 say those cruel, cruel words." 
 
 "Enough," he replied sternly, unclasping 
 her arms and casting her aside. "Under 
 stand it must be forever." 
 
 "Forever? We part forever?" repeated 
 Esperanza. in a dazed, bewildered tone. 
 "Roderick," she cried imploringly, rushing 
 to his side and clasping his hand. "My love, 
 my life, we cannot part! Cruel words I do 
 but dream. Thou can'st not mean it, mine 
 own," she pathetically pleaded, covering her 
 face with her hands and sobbing bitterly. 
 
 "Listen, woman," cried DeMonte, grasp 
 ing her roughly by the arm. "You do not 
 dream. Neither do I jest. I repeat again," 
 said he, as he loosened her grasp, and flung 
 her aside, "what your blind love for me 
 fails to see, I have ceased to care for you," 
 108
 
 said he coolly, lighting- a cigarette, "and hare 
 for sometime past." 
 
 "Oh, Roderick," she shrieked wildly. "Such 
 words from thee who hath sworn to love 
 me. They pierce like a stilletto sent to my 
 heart. Doth thon love another? Maybe one 
 who would'st not consent to become thy 
 slave as I have been," she bitterly cried, 
 sinking with sheer exhaustion into a chair, 
 she sobbingly continued, "Now thy wish is 
 to cast me aside." 
 
 "Be thankful I deign to inform you of it 
 at all. This wild love," said he, striking 
 the table a furious blow, "must cease." 
 
 "Cease ! Cease !" breathlessly panted Es- 
 peranza, as she slowly arose, trembling visi 
 bly, her gazelle-like eyes dimmed with un 
 restrained tears. "Cease yes, when my lips 
 refuse to utter my love ; when my heart that 
 bounded at thy footstep beats no longer ; 
 when mine eyes, which behold thy being 
 are closed forever ; when my form which 
 thou hast robbed of its honor, be lifeless and 
 cold then and only then will my love 
 cease." 
 
 "Esperanza, listen to reason. Nearly all 
 women overestimate man's affection. When 
 guilty of this error, it seldom if ever termin- 
 109
 
 ates well. Women should believe about one- 
 tenth of man's proffered affection. One- 
 hundredth part of aught he may swear. Wo 
 men are to be pitied, who, fully believing 
 in man's love, yield their honor readily. Sel 
 dom if ever we care to make such women 
 our wives. I hope, Esperanza, you may now 
 understand why it becomes necessary for 
 us to part." 
 
 "Roderick, for heaven's sake spare me," 
 she imploringly cried, sinking on her knees 
 beside the pallet. "Spare me," she pleaded, 
 "If not your wife I am the mother of your 
 child." Pulling back the curtain that sur 
 rounded the pallet, she revealed to his gaze 
 the unconscious form of the ailing child. 
 
 "Perdition! The child lives my child?" 
 he cried in horror. 
 
 "Dare you doubt it?" exultingly asked the 
 gypsy, as she raised the child's bare arm on 
 which a long red mark was plainly visible. 
 "This arm bears the proof of the treachery 
 practiced upon the mother," she said, giv 
 ing him a keen, flashing look. 
 
 "Woman, what do you mean to infer?" 
 
 Without immediately answering DeMonte, 
 she slowly rolled up the sleeve of her blouse 
 and exhibited her arm on which was a deep 
 110
 
 red scar. "This arm," she continued, "re 
 ceived the thrust of the knife which was in 
 tended to pierce the heart of the mother and 
 unborn babe. Better had the assassin's 
 cowardly blow proved fatal. It would have 
 saved my heart from the torture now of 
 knowing that I have loved yes loved in 
 vain." 
 
 "Evidently you accuse me of having tried 
 to assassinate you," he sneeringly remarked. 
 
 "Dare you deny it?" she asked undaunted. 
 
 "Would that I had killed her," he said 
 under his breath. Then with a leer on his 
 swarthy face, he ventured to remark, "I 
 deny or affirm nothing. Your gypsy pro 
 pensities of reading the past and future 
 should save you from asking such foolish 
 questions, but I swear Esperanza " 
 
 "Hold," she cried, interrupting him. "Per 
 jure your soul no more. Ah, yes," a gleam 
 of cunning flashing from her eyes, she re 
 sumed. "Women should believe one-tenth 
 of man's proffered affection. One-hundredth 
 part of aught he may swear. See, I have 
 learned your lesson readily, never to be for 
 gotten. Oh, my babe," she frantically cried, 
 as the child on the pallet gave a slight moan, 
 "How can'st I relieve thy suffering? Thou 
 111
 
 art chilled. Thou art growing cold. Thine 
 eyes," she wildly cried, raising the child's 
 head lovingly and clasping it to her breast. 
 "How they stare ! How glassy ! Be merciful, 
 Roderick," she passionately pleaded. "Look! 
 look once upon the face of thy child e're its 
 eyes are closed in death." 
 
 "You request an assassin to gaze upon 
 your innocent child?" he sneeringly asked. 
 
 "Have pity," she shrieked, as the little 
 inanimate form gasped. "Too late! Too late! 
 Death hast claimed thee, mine own," she 
 pathetically cried, wringing her hands, and 
 with a wild burst of agonized grief, she fell 
 prostrate over the lifeless child. 
 
 "The child dead?" gasped DeMonte, mak 
 ing a feeble attempt to look at it. "No, I 
 cannot," said he, turning away. "That face 
 would haunt me forever." Taking his coat, 
 and then walking to the door, he said in a 
 hoarse voice : "Esperanza, I go, cursing my 
 self and you alike. Farewell forever." He 
 opened the door of the hut and rushed out 
 into the blinding storm. 
 
 Raising her head wearily Esperanza in a 
 dazed voice pitifully called: "Roderick, Rod 
 erick! Gone! Oh, God, I have been deserted 
 by father and child. What have I to live for 
 112
 
 now? Why not end this misery at once," 
 she pantingly cried, grasping a stilletto from 
 her belt. Gazing at the lifeless little form she 
 shuddered, and, letting the stilletto drop from 
 her hand, in an agonized voice cried: "No. 
 I must not. I must live," a dangerous light 
 creeping into her magnetic eyes. "Live, to 
 seek that soothing balm so cooling to the 
 gypsy's blood REVENGE. "Here (she cried 
 kneeling by the side of the pallet) over the 
 dead body of my child, I swear it." Rising, 
 she continued wrathfully. "Go, Roderick De- 
 Monte, but we shall meet again. Vengeance 
 shall fall as unrelentingly upon thy head as 
 the storm now is bursting upon the moun 
 tains. Let the tempest roar," she cried, as a 
 peal of thunder vibrated through the moun 
 tain canyon. "Howl, ye winds. Louder, 
 louder !" she excitedly cried, her eyes flash 
 ing and a feverish glow now o'erspreading 
 her dusky face. "Proclaim my vengeance and 
 forget not in thy mad fury to chant a 
 requiem for my babe." With a heart-rending 
 sob she fell, grief stricken, beside the body of 
 her child. 
 
 113
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 THE MURDER 
 
 The afternoon's sun was bravely struggling 
 to lavish its last sickly rays o'er the magnifi 
 cent crests and valleys of the glorious Sier 
 ras. The clouds were gathering and the chill 
 in the air penetrated keenly through the 
 thick coat which Mr. Fielding had buttoned 
 tightly around himself as he descended a 
 mountain trail which led to a cabin situated 
 in close proximity to the Lucette Mine. Lieu 
 tenant Fielding (his son) was walking a 
 short distance behind carrying two light grips. 
 As the lieutenant caught up with him, Mr. 
 Fielding joyously sang out: "Well, Bert, 
 here we are at last." 
 
 "It is strange that Girrade failed to meet 
 us." replied the lieutenant. "I'm sure he'll 
 lose no time, though, in following our foot 
 steps." 
 
 "Very likely. Now for the cabin," said Mr. 
 Fielding, trying to open the door. "I feel 
 quite fatigued. Tramping over a rough 
 mountain trail at my time of life does not 
 agree with me." 
 
 114
 
 "That's so, dad," answered the lieutenant, 
 following his father into the cabin. "This old 
 shelter has held an occupant very recently," 
 said he, gazing curiously around. "Probably 
 Girrade himself. I'm hungry," said the lieu 
 tenant, taking a bottle from off the table. 
 "A bonanza brandy sure," said he smelling 
 its contents. "Glance at the table, dad," 
 said he, drawing Mr. Fielding's attention 
 to the well-spread table. "Cold venison, beans 
 and biscuits. Girrade evidently expected us. 
 Sit down, father, the table looks tempting to 
 two hungry travelers. Doesn't it?" 
 
 "Yes, indeed. This trip has sharpened my 
 appetite," said Mr. Fielding, as he sat down 
 and filled his glass from the bottle of brandy. 
 
 "Well, I wish it could sharpen this knife," 
 said the lieutenant, trying to cut a piece of 
 venison. "Here, Jute." 
 
 "Ah, my boy, I see your thoughts are of 
 home," said Mr. Fielding, sighing. 
 
 'You've hit the mark, dad. I just wonder 
 how Lucette is getting along?" 
 
 "Grieving herself to death by imagining us 
 devoured by wild beasts." 
 
 "Foolish child," said the lieutenant, tilting 
 back in his chair. "As I live," he exclaimed, 
 someone must have shot a bear recently." 
 115
 
 Then leaving the table he walked over and 
 examined a skin that was hanging on the wall 
 to dry. "I wonder who's the lucky hunts 
 man ?" 
 
 "Girrade boasts of being a fine shot. Per 
 haps it was he," replied Mr. Fielding, yawn 
 ing. 
 
 "Great boy, I would like to join him on 
 one of his hunting expeditions." 
 
 "Look! There stands a rifle and a shot 
 gun," said Mr. Fielding, pointing to one cor 
 ner of the cabin. 
 
 "Let's see," said the lieutenant, examining 
 the gun. "The shotgun is loaded. Say, dad, 
 I noticed a fine bevy of quail down the road. 
 I'm going out to try my skill for an hour or 
 so, that is, if you don't object to being left 
 alone, father. Now, to scare up ammunition. 
 Ah, here is some," joyfully said he, as he 
 discovered a box of loaded shells on a small 
 shelf situated above the table. "Well, I'm 
 off, dad," said he, as he shouldered his gun. 
 Pausing at the door, he continued : "I'll soon 
 return." 
 
 "Enjoy your sport," said Mr. Fielding, 
 
 watching him depart. "Girrade is likely 
 
 to arrive here at any moment. Keep well 
 
 upon the trail. Good luck to you, my boy," 
 
 116
 
 he said, as the lieutenant ran up the moun 
 tain trail. "Patience, but this tramp has 
 tired me out. I'll throw myself down and 
 take a short nap during Bert's absence. In 
 case of an intrusion I'll bolt the door," 
 thought Mr. Fielding. "Now, then," said he, 
 yawning, "for a nap." Throwing himself 
 down upon the rude cot, he soon fell asleep. 
 
 Scarcely had the door closed upon Mr. 
 Fielding when Roderick DeMonte stealthy 
 came from behind a large boulder. Gazing up 
 the trail in the direction Lieutenant Fielding 
 had taken, he watched intently the lieuten 
 ant's receding form watched it until it ap 
 peared indistinct in the distance. 
 
 "Alone! Alone at last," he exultingly ex 
 claimed. "Now is my time to secure the 
 papers," he said to himself, cautiously trying 
 the door. "Locked," he muttered, as the 
 door did not yield to his strenuous efforts. 
 "Shall I be foiled?" Then holding his ear 
 closely to the keyhole, he listened breathlessly 
 to the deep breathing within. "He sleeps. 
 I'll try the window." Cautiously walking 
 around the cabin he easily opened the win 
 dow, crawled in and crept softly toward the 
 sleeping man, listening occasionally to make 
 sure that his sleep was profound, he stooped 
 117
 
 and quickly opened a grip that he perceived 
 lying on the floor. Examining it quickly, he 
 muttered disgustedly, "Nothing there, except 
 this," picking up a stilletto. At that instant 
 the sleeping man gave a slight moan. Grasp 
 ing the hilt of the newly found stilletto in his 
 hand, he peered intently at the sleeping vic 
 tim. "Another move and I'll drive this to 
 your heart." Reassuring himself that Mr. 
 Fielding was in a deep stupor, he bent down 
 again and continued his search in the second 
 grip that happened to be lying wide open. 
 His dark eagle eye alighted on a small pistol 
 that was lying in full view. Picking it up 
 and examining it, he held it toward the dying 
 light and read the engraved name upon it 
 LIEUTENANT A. FIELDING. "My friend, 
 you are doomed," said he, putting the pistol 
 in his back pocket. The papers I seek may be 
 concealed here," thought he, stooping over 
 Mr. Fielding's body. His wicked gaze 
 seemed to disturb the sleep of the helpless 
 man. for he restlessly murmured, "MY SON, 
 GOD BLESS YOU." DeMonte, observing 
 Mr. Fielding's restless slumber, quickly con 
 cealed his face with his black silk muffler, as 
 Mr. Fielding opened his eyes. "Who are 
 you ? What do ~you want ?" exclaimed the 
 118
 
 sleep-dazed man. "Your papers, quick," de 
 manded DeMonte, endeavoring to disguise 
 his voice. 
 
 "Never," cried Mr. Fielding, suddenly 
 awakened. Instantly the two men clinched, 
 and in the fierce struggle between them, De- 
 Monte accidentally dropped the stilletto, and 
 in his endeavor to regain it, the impromptu 
 mask, which had concealed his face, be 
 came displaced, then in an accent of sur 
 prised horror, Mr. Fielding, recognizing De- 
 Monte, cried out, "YOU?" 
 
 DeMonte uttered not a word, but instantly 
 drawing the lieutenant's pistol from his 
 pocket, took aim and fired. 
 
 "MURDER MUR " cried Mr. Field 
 ing reeling, he fell prone upon the floor. 
 
 DeMonte, gazing at his victim lying at 
 his feet, instantly began a search of the life 
 less form of Mr. Fielding. "Now, for the 
 papers. Then to escape," said he anxiously. 
 "Luck favors me. Here they are." Quickly 
 obtaining some papers from the body of Mr. 
 Fielding, he agitatedly transferred them into 
 his own pocket. "This little toy, removing 
 the pistol from his pocket, "I shall throw 
 by the wayside, where, if found, can be 
 brought in evidence against Lieutenant 
 119
 
 Fielding." Casting a look at the prostrate 
 form, he shuddered as he unbolted the door. 
 Rushing out, pistol in hand, he confronted 
 Lieutenant Fielding, who was about to enter 
 the cabin. 
 
 "Roderick !" cried the lieutenant, starting 
 back amazed. You here? What means this 
 agitation?" excitedly questioned the lieu 
 tenant raising his gun. "It means," replied 
 DeMonte wildly rushing upon the lieutenant 
 and knocking the gun from his hands. "It 
 means dog you die, rather than thwart my 
 plans." he then, with an angry curse sent a 
 bullet through the shoulder of the gallant 
 lieutenant. "Father! Help! Help!" gasped 
 the lieutenant, then all was still, as his body, 
 with a heavy thud, fell to the ground. 
 
 "DEAD AND DOOMED," soliloquized 
 DeMonte, as he knelt beside the apparently 
 lifeless body. "Both are removed from my 
 path forever. This little piece of mechan 
 ism," thought he, placing the pistol at the 
 lieutenant's side, shall shield me from de 
 tection. Now, to remove the shotgun," he 
 said, as he quickly placed it inside the cabin, 
 "and the coyotes may feast upon these," as 
 he picked up the string of quail which the 
 lieutenant had shot and threw them down 
 120
 
 the gulch. "The evidence of the lieutenant's 
 guilt is there," said he, pointing to the re 
 volver, "and dead men's lips are sealed for 
 ever." 
 
 "Now, I'll away and banish this ac 
 cursed tragedy from my mind, ere I again 
 seek Lucette's presence. Farewell, my noble 
 comrade," he mockingly said. "You had not 
 the honor of falling on the battlefield, but 
 by my hand I, that ere this thirsted for 
 your life. You were never born to be 
 drowned, my friend. A miracle alone once 
 saved you, in the guise of a fisherman. I 
 received the credit of saving your life then. 
 I don't want the credit of taking it now. 
 You came upon me one moment too soon," 
 mused he, walking toward the trail. Running 
 deftly up the path, he looked back, saying, 
 "it was your fate farewell." He then dis 
 appeared from view. 
 
 "Villian ! Villian beware," cried Esperanza, 
 the gypsy, gazing after DeMonte as she 
 emerged from behind a tall pine tree. "Did'st 
 thou think that thy dastardly deed was un 
 witnessed ? Go ! Revel revel in thy belief. 
 Vengeance will burst upon thy head whilst 
 thou art sleeping, for the gypsy, like the 
 snake that charms the bird, abides the time 
 121
 
 for its destruction. Then kneeling at the 
 lieutenant's side, she scanned his face in 
 tently. "Who art thou, man, on whom De- 
 Monte hath wreaked his vengeance? Is life 
 extinct?" she said, raising his head. "What 
 is this?" she exclaimed aloud, picking up a 
 miniature and opening it a miniature that 
 had evidently fallen from his pocket. "That 
 face. Tis she she who hath come between 
 my love and me. She must be the cause of 
 enmity between Roderick DeAIonte and his 
 victim. I'll baffle his plans," she wildly cried. 
 "If there be life, I will save this man, and 
 none but my faithful 'Wah-Ha' (the Indian), 
 shall know of his existence." 
 
 She lightly ran up the mountain path and 
 signaled with her hands, which summoned 
 instantly a stalwart, dusky Indian, whom 
 she motioned to help render assistance to 
 the dying man. The last lurid rays of the 
 setting sun pictured Esperanza and her faith 
 ful mute bearing to safety the human freight 
 up the mountain side. 
 
 122
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 THE DISCOVERED WEAPON 
 
 "It looks as if it were clouding up for a 
 storm," said Claude Girrade, the overseer of 
 the Lucette Mine, who was coming down the 
 trail in the approaching darkness. "I thought 
 we would be able to reach camp long before 
 dusk." 
 
 "Fse be glad, Massa Girrade, we be heah. 
 I's tramped nuff fo' one day," replied Criss, 
 Girrade's colored companion, as he laid down 
 a large heavy grip with a sigh. 
 
 "The cabin appears to be in total dark 
 ness. Can it be possible that Mr. Fielding 
 and his son have mistaken the trail?" 
 
 "Gess not, massa. Dey maybe 'sleep in de 
 cabin," reassuringly replied Criss. 
 
 "Strike a light, Criss, I feel worried in 
 regard to my friends. If I had received their 
 telegram in time, I would have personally 
 conducted them hither," he said entering the 
 cabin. 
 
 "Confoun' dem matches," said Criss, im 
 patiently striking two or three without effect. 
 "Dey be reg'lar scantlins." 
 123
 
 "Bring me a light, quick," called Girrade 
 in a perplexed tone from within the cabin. 
 "What the deuce have I stepped into," he 
 exclaimed. Great heavens ! What is this ?" 
 he cried, stricken with horror, as Criss 
 flashed the lantern in the cabin door. "My 
 God! Mr. Fielding! Here! Dead!" 
 
 "Oh, Lordy deliber us. Dis am terrible, 
 terrible !" cried Criss, rolling up his eyes and 
 trembling like a water-soaked dog. 
 
 "Dead, lifeless and cold," pronounced Gir 
 rade, after hastily examining the murdered 
 man. "Where can Lieutenant Fielding be?" 
 he anxiously inquired. "There has been a 
 strange tragedy enacted here. Now, to fathom 
 this mystery." 
 
 "Oh, Massa, Fse tremblin' like a fellar 
 dat hab got de ague." 
 
 "Come, come, brace up. Let us investigate 
 this affair," said Girrade, lighting another 
 lantern. Then he immediately stepped out 
 of the cabin followed by Criss. 
 
 "Look! Look, Massa, Here am a pool of 
 blood," excitedly cried Criss, pointing upon 
 the ground outside of the cabin. 
 
 "Strange, no trace of it any place else," 
 returned Girrade, as he cast the rays of the 
 
 124
 
 lantern around. "Ah," he excitedly ex 
 claimed, discovering the lieutenant's pistol on 
 the ground. "A clue," perhaps, said he, 
 picking up the pistol and examining it 
 closely. He started violently as he read the 
 engraved name of Lieutenant Fielding upon 
 the handle. "His son's revolver," he ejacu 
 lated, "and two chambers empty. Could he 
 have committed this outrageous deed and 
 fled? If so let him be brought to justice. 
 Lieutenant Fielding evidently has murdered 
 HIS OWN FATHER." 
 
 125
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 SIX WEEKS LATER 
 
 The curtains in the spacious living room 
 of the Fielding home were drawn closely. A 
 cheerful fire burned brightly in the old Dutch 
 grate. The reading lamp, which stood on 
 the old massive mahogany table, with its dark 
 green shade, cast a subdued light on the com 
 fortable furnishings of the room. 
 
 Seated beside the open fireplace sat Lu- 
 cette, robed in a dress of deep mourning. Her 
 shapely golden head rested on her dimpled 
 arm as she watched the ruddy flames pro 
 foundly thinking. 
 
 "How dreary life seems to me now ! Oh, 
 father, why were you destined to take that 
 perilous journey which has brought such 
 desolation upon our home? Evil, indeed, has 
 overtaken us. It was the gypsy's prophecy," 
 she mournfully thought, bowing her head in 
 grief. 
 
 "Come, child, you must overcome this 
 morbidness," said Adele, who, upon opening 
 the door and entering the room, discovered 
 Lucette in the above described attitude. 
 126
 
 "Adele, you know not what you ask. This 
 suspense is killing me," she said tearfully, 
 rising. "Killing me," she repeated, wringing 
 her hands in despair. "It is fully six weeks 
 since we received tidings of this dreadful 
 tragedy, and the assassin " 
 
 "Lieutenant Fielding," interrupted Adele. 
 "Can you believe the verdict?" she asked 
 with marked emphasis. 
 
 "\o! No!" Lucette excitedly cried, her 
 azure eyes flashing and her pale face drawn. 
 "It is that thought which drives me to dis 
 traction. My heart tells me that Lieutenant 
 Fielding is innocent of the crime he is ac 
 cused of, but as time passes away and no 
 tidings of him dead or alive is received to 
 prove his innocence, I am on the verge of 
 despair. Yet rest assured the guilty shall 
 not go unpunished." 
 
 "But who is the guilty one?" asked Adele, 
 thoughtfully. 
 
 "I cannot say," returned Lucette. "Papa 
 Fielding had no enemies. Robbery .was not 
 the cause of the crime, as his wallet was 
 found undisturbed on his person." 
 
 "Girrade, during the inquest," remarked 
 Adele, "referred to certain papers supposed 
 127
 
 to be on Mr. Fielding's person, previous to 
 his death, as a motive for the murder." 
 
 "The papers proving the water right to the 
 mine? they were found untouched in his 
 pocket," returned Lucette. 
 
 "Then, suspicion rests alone on Lieutenant 
 Fielding," said Adele in a slow, sorrowful, 
 measured tone. 
 
 "Patience, Adele, Time, the healing balm, 
 the relentless avenger, will tell," said Lucette 
 with a deep drawn sob. 
 
 "Missy Lucette," called Jute, as she opened 
 the door and dashed unceremoniously into 
 the living room. She was ridiculously at 
 tired in a black mull dress which she made 
 conspicuous by the adornment of a cherry 
 colored sash which was tied in a gorgeous 
 bow at the back of her dress. A cherry rib 
 bon adorned her hair. In her hand she 
 held a large bouquet. 
 
 "Heah be some posies wid de compliments 
 ob de gen'man on de ticket," she said as she 
 laid the bouquet on the table. 
 
 Adele, gazing at Jute in utter astonish 
 ment, quickly asked: "What are you made 
 up for, Jute?" 
 
 "The idea of you wearing such bright 
 colored ribbons so soon? Do you forget we 
 128
 
 are in deep mourning, Jute?" reproachfully 
 questioned Lucette. 
 
 "Morning or ebenin', it all be de same in 
 dis house now. Eberyting be dark and dreary. 
 I'se jist put on dis cherry bow to liven de 
 folks up a bit," said Jute, poutingly. 
 
 "Don't do it again. It displeases me very 
 much. Run along now and remove those rib 
 bons immediately," said Lucette, seriously. 
 
 Jute, turning to go, said half aloud, "Ma 
 cherry bow 'n Missy Lucette's bouquet, bof 
 got a cold 'ception." 
 
 "These roses are exquisite," remarked 
 Adele, picking up the roses and arranging 
 them gracefully in a vase on the table. 
 
 Lucette, in an absent minded way, replied : 
 "Oh, yes, rather." Then, carelessly glancing 
 at the card that was attached to the bouquet, 
 she tossed it aside indifferently, and with a 
 tinge of annoyance in her voice said: "Why 
 does that man pester me with his atten 
 tions ?" 
 
 "Nothing seems to interest you now," re 
 marked Adele, looking up meekly. 
 
 "You are right, Adele," quickly answered 
 
 Lucette, crossing the room. Opening the 
 
 window and looking out now into the starry 
 
 night, she continued, as she inhaled a breath 
 
 129
 
 of the clear, crisp air: ''Especially Roderick 
 DeMonte's attentions and gifts." 
 
 "Lucette, you must admit that he has treated 
 you very kindly during your recent bereave 
 ment, and is doing all in his power to fathom 
 the mystery. Being Lieutenant Fielding's 
 dearest friend, you should try and show him 
 a little consideration, Lucette." 
 
 "Should Roderick DeMonte be able to clear 
 Lieutenant Fielding's name of this stigma, 
 much as I repulse him. willingly would I 
 give him my everlasting gratitude." 
 
 "Well, Lucette," said Adele, gently caress 
 ing her, "you being alone in the world now, 
 you should have some one in the world to 
 protect you. Roderick DeMonte loves you 
 desperately and he will not leave a stone un 
 turned to help unravel this mystery. Surely 
 you should repay him with a little more than 
 gratitude love say." 
 
 "Love?" indignantly answered Lucette. 
 "The word to me is mockery. Ask me not to 
 love in this world again. Gratitude I may give. 
 Love never," she said resigned. 
 
 "If Roderick DeMonte calls this evening, 
 you will at any rate promise to receive him 
 kindly," Adele asked, patronizingly. 
 
 "I will try," answered Lucette, coldly. 
 
 "Come. Lucette, join me in a short walk. 
 130
 
 The evening air is crisp and will revive your 
 spirits and do you good." 
 
 "Very well," said Lucette, as she reluctantly 
 followed Adele. 
 
 A good half hour had hardly elapsed, when 
 Jute ushered Roderick DeMonte into the liv 
 ing room. Placing a chair at his disposal, she 
 relieved him of his overcoat and hat. He was 
 faultlessly attired in evening dress. "So your 
 mistress is at home?" asked he smilingly of 
 Jute, as he slowly drew off his glove. 
 
 "Yes, sah, Missy Lucette be at home. Please 
 be seated, I'se gwyne to call her 'mediately." 
 Jute then went in search of Lucette. 
 
 "So," soliloquized DeMonte, seating himself, 
 "the fair Lucette condescends to receive me 
 ere I depart. What a lucky individual you 
 are, DeMonte! Ah, Lucette is subdued now 
 by believing that her lover is the assassin of 
 his father. Luckily for me that I succeeded in 
 robbing Mr. Fielding, not of papers relative to 
 the mine as I intended, but of some worthless 
 papers he happened to have in his possession. 
 Thus have the detectives been foiled of a clue. 
 Why the body of Lieutenant Fielding, if 
 dead, has not been found, is a mystery to me. 
 Xo matter. Dead he is harmless, and were he 
 alive he would have proclaimed his innocence 
 before now." 
 
 131
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 THE PROMISE 
 
 Lucette was startled visibly on beholding 
 DeMonte upon her entrance into the room 
 where he was anxiously waiting for her. 
 
 DeMonte, with a profound bow, offered Lu- 
 cete his hand, saying, "My dear Miss Westly." 
 
 "Pray be seated, Mr. DeMonte," she said 
 coldly, motioning toward a chair. "Jute in 
 formed me that you were here and desired to 
 see me. There is no word as yet no tidings 
 of Lieutenant Fielding?" she eagerly asked, as 
 she sank down in a large easy chair. 
 
 "None, poor fellow, dead or alive," an 
 swered DeMonte, solemnly shaking his head. 
 His eyes rested upon the floor. He dare not 
 look Lucette in the face. 
 
 "But his name," cried Lucette excitedly. 
 "This stigma must be removed. You know, 
 Roderick DeMonte, that he never committed 
 that deed," said she, looking him searchingly 
 in the face. 
 
 "I believe my friend capable of every vir 
 tue. I shall endeavor to do my utmost to 
 clear his name if dead and bring the true 
 132
 
 assassin to justice. For my reward I ask 
 to lay my heart's devotion at thy feet." 
 
 "Roderick DeMonte, this subject is very 
 painful to me in my early grief. If you can 
 accept my gratitude 
 
 "Yes, Lucette," interrupted DeMonte, "Your 
 faintest smile makes me the happiest of men. 
 As your eternal slave I now kneel at your feet, 
 craving that some day you will return my pas 
 sionate love. That I may call you my wife." 
 
 "Roderick DeMonte, we may just as well 
 come to an understanding once and forever. 
 Your wife? Never can I bestow one atom of 
 love upon you. My respect and gratitude is 
 all you can expect," she said, sternly. 
 
 "Lucette," cried DeMonte pleadingly, ''Un 
 say those words. Give me hope Let me love 
 thee. When it is proven that I have earned 
 my reward by bringing the assassin to justice 
 grant me thy hand for my friend's sake 
 promise me." Lucette, in a bewildered voice 
 hardly audible, hesitatingly stammered, "I 
 I" 
 
 "Promise," interrupted DeMonte. "Heaven 
 bless you. I go now, Lucette, enraptured in the 
 anticipation of calling you the sweetest name 
 on earth- wife." Quickly catching her hand, 
 he kissed it fervently and without another word 
 133
 
 donned his hat and overcoat and silently went 
 out into the chilly night. 
 
 Lucette remained dumbfounded, dazed for 
 the moment. The blood had receded from her 
 lace, leaving it deathly pale. Her eyes stared 
 vacantly at the now closed door, through 
 which DeMonte had passed. Madly clasping 
 her hands together, she wildly exclaimed 
 aloud, as the thought flashed through her 
 brain : "What have I promised ? Heavens ! 
 To become that man's wife. His wife! My 
 very soul revolts," she excitedly uttered, 
 clrtching the arm of the chair violently for 
 support, as she almost fell to the floor. "I 
 a'.hor him." she continued. "Oh, Bertie, for 
 give me ! Forgive me !" she sobbed out in 
 her wild despair. "Your sake alone de 
 mands this sacrifice," she tearfully uttered, 
 bowing her head. 
 
 "In tears. Lucette?" asked Adele, entering 
 the room. "I'm so sorry to see you so de 
 pressed. Why? What is the matter?" 
 
 Lucette aose hastily, wringing her hand? 
 and walking up and down. She cried out in art 
 rxgonized voice : "Adele, I am almost distracted, 
 ^'hat have I promised? What have I done?" 
 
 "Nothing unreasonable, nothing unpardon 
 able. I hope," answered Adele, somewhat sur 
 prised. 
 
 134
 
 "Listen !" Lucette replied in an agitated 
 voice. Then, clutching Adele by the arm, 
 she stared into her face and continued. "I 
 have promised to become Roderick DeMonte's 
 wife." At that instant the heavy curtains 
 parted and Larry Leigh stood as if rooted to 
 the spot as he exclaimed with horror: "LU 
 CETTE WESTLY, ARE YOU MAD?" 
 
 Lucette and Adele started visibly as the 
 hoarse voice reached them. Lucette turned 
 deathly pale as she confronted Leigh, and 
 Adele sarcastically asked : "\Yhat means this 
 intrusion, sir? You forget 
 
 "Everything," said Leigh, "where Lucette's 
 happiness and honor are concerned. Should 
 you," said lie. turning to Lucette, "deem this an 
 intrusion I apologize. I came to seek you ex 
 pecting to find you alone. Hearing voices I 
 was about to retrace my steps when I was 
 riveted to the spot by your announcement." 
 
 "But your remark," interrupted Adele. 
 
 "If I were dying I would still find strength 
 to utter the words that would prohibit Lucette 
 from becoming that man's Roderick De 
 Monte's wife. I will offer an explanation," said 
 he, glancing at Lucette, "when we are alone." 
 
 "Kxcuse me, Lucette," sneeringly said Adele 
 "I shall not encroach upon valuable time which 
 135
 
 must be devoted to the satisfactory explana 
 tion of an uncalled for remark made by an 
 interfering individual. With your kind per 
 mission I beg to withdraw." Then, mockingly 
 bowing, she left the room. 
 
 "Well, Leigh, what have you to say?" 
 asked Lucette in a trembling voice, after Adele 
 had taken her departure. 
 
 "The night previous to Mr. Fielding's leav 
 ing home he intrusted you to my care. There 
 fore I feel it my duty to snatch you from the 
 precipice on which you stand, by thinking for 
 a moment of bestowing your hand on Roderick 
 DeMonte." 
 
 "Do you know anything detrimental to his 
 character?" 
 
 "He is not to be trusted," bluntly said Leigh. 
 "I cannot conceive how you have brought 
 yourself to make such a promise when Lieu 
 tenant Fielding held, I thought, a place in your 
 affections," continued he, in a piqued voice. 
 
 "Ah, Leigh, my promise was made on con 
 ditions that Roderick DeMonte would clear 
 the stigma from Lieutenant Fielding's name 
 and bring the true assassin to justice. I do not 
 love DeMonte," she said, with a look of hatred 
 passing over her face. "The love of my heart 
 was given to him for whom I now make 
 136
 
 this sacrifice to establish his innocence," she 
 bitterly rejoined. 
 
 "Bless you," said Leigh joyfully. "You have 
 relieved my heart by proclaiming your love 
 for that gallant boy." "Are you satisfied now, 
 Leigh?" she gently inquired. 
 
 "Xot until you withdraw your promise. 
 He'll not bring the true culprit to justice. I 
 swear it," he vehemently cried. 
 
 "That is a strong assertion. Be more ex 
 plicit," remarked Lucette. 
 
 "Recall your promise. I shall fathom this 
 mystery without you having to sacrifice your 
 self by becoming that man's wife." 
 
 "You can do this and save me from a hate 
 ful betrothal?" eagerly asked Lucette. 
 
 "Yes ; rest assured I will," returned Leigh, 
 "but I must have your help. Jute and you must 
 be ready to accompany me three days hence 
 on a journey to the Lucette Aline. Follow my 
 instructions and we shall avenge the murder of 
 Mr. Fielding and vindicate the name of Lieu 
 tenant Fielding." 
 
 "Is not this a sudden determination, Leigh ?" 
 asked Lucette. 
 
 "No," he answered, shortly. "My suspicions 
 have been aroused for some time in regard to 
 the gentleman in question. I must secure help 
 137
 
 from only those whom I can trust, in order to 
 foil the true murderer." 
 
 "Are you sure you are on the right track, 
 Leigh?" anxiously inquired Lucette. 
 
 "Positive. One request I ask. Adele must 
 not know of our intended destination." 
 
 "Leave that to me quietly," assented Lucette. 
 The sudden drawn portieres revealed Jute, who 
 yawningly approached, carrying a note in her 
 hand. 
 
 " 'Sense me, Missy," she languidly said. 
 "I'se thought Missy Adele was heah. Dis 
 chile be tole to 'liver dis 'pistol" yawning 
 stupidly. 
 
 "Bang! Bang! Look out for it, Jute, it might 
 go off," teasingly said Leigh. 
 
 "Who gave you this epistle, Jute?" asked 
 Lucette, in surprise. 
 
 "Massa DeMonte," answered Jute, as she 
 endeavored to suppress another yawn. 
 
 "Please don't attempt to open that rosebud 
 mouth of yours so wide. Jute. It rather spoils 
 your personal beauty." In reply Jute gave 
 Leigh a withering look and saucily shrugged 
 her shoulders. 
 
 "Strange DeMonte takes leave of Adele in 
 this singular fashion," remarked she, glancing 
 at the address on the note, "and at this late 
 138
 
 hour," she continued. Turning to Jute, Lucette 
 said: "You will have to seek Adele elsewhere, 
 my child." 
 
 "All rite, Missy," she answered, still yawn 
 ing and with a slow gait she left the room. 
 
 "Xow, Miss Lucette, it is perfectly under 
 stood that you and Jute accompany me, three 
 days hence." 
 
 "Yes. You may depend upon me without 
 fail. I'll now bid you good night, Leigh." 
 
 "Good night," he pleasantly answered, as 
 Lucette opened the door that led out of the 
 room. 
 
 "Left alone," Leigh thought: ''Before I re 
 tire I'll enjoy a cigar and think well over my 
 coming plans." Lighting a cigar which he took 
 from his pocket, he leisurely strolled over to 
 the large bay window, where he concealed him 
 self behind the old-fashioned damask curtains. 
 
 "Deserted," exclaimed Adele, entering the 
 room and cautiously looking about. "I wonder 
 what could have induced Roderick DeMonte's 
 sudden departure? Evidently there must be 
 something on his mind." The door, which 
 A;:ele happened to leave ajar, was immediately 
 darkened by the entrance of the little do- 
 irestic, Jute, crying: "Oh, Missy Adele, I'se so 
 tired. I'se jist chased de 'hole house all ober 
 139
 
 fo' yo,' Missy, to gib yo' clis," she said, offer 
 ing the note to Adele. 
 
 Adele quickly grasped the note and hurriedly 
 opening it, she read the following: 
 
 "Adele, when all have retired, meet me in 
 the library. Give signal. Important. 
 
 "DEMONTE." 
 
 Knitting her brow and then looking quickly 
 up she perceived Jute still standing waiting. 
 "Go on. Get to bed. You look weary," com 
 manded Adele, as Jute willingly scooted. 
 
 "I wonder," thought Adele, unconsciously 
 dropping DeMonte's note on the table, "what 
 he wants of me now? I am getting so tired of 
 being compelled to do Roderick DeMonte's bid 
 ding. What is there to be gained now since 
 Lieutenant Fielding is no more? I'll grant him 
 this interview and give him to understand that 
 I shall not be his accomplice any longer. It 
 is now close on to eleven o'clock," said she, 
 glancing at the time. "All have retired, so I 
 will venture to give the signal." Lowering the 
 lamp, she quickly darted from the room. 
 
 Leigh suddenly emerged from behind the 
 heavy curtains. "More mystery," thought he, 
 as he lightly advanced toward the table. 
 "\Yhat's this," said he aloud, picking up the 
 note which Adele had unconsciously dropped. 
 He quickly scanned its contents. "So, my 
 140
 
 pretty pair," he declared aloud, "there seems 
 to be a conspiracy on hand. I think I shall re 
 main just where I was and await further de 
 velopments." Leigh had scarcely concealed 
 himself behind the heavily curtained window 
 before Adele returned to the room. Looking 
 anxiously about, she hastened to a side window 
 that overlooked the garden. Opening the win 
 dow quietly she then waved her hand, after 
 which she walked over to the table. Turning 
 up the light she discovered the note. Quickly 
 picking it up, she hid it in the folds of her 
 dress. A look of annoyance crossed her brow 
 as she thought: "How stupid of me to have 
 been- so careless." A low knock at the door 
 startled her. She quickly opened the door and 
 confronted DeMonte. 
 
 "Alone?" Adele, he inquired, looking about. 
 
 "Quite, be seated. We are not likely to be 
 disturbed," Adele answered, giving him an in 
 quiring look. 
 
 "Lucette thinks I have taken my departure 
 ere this, but I could not leave without an inter 
 view with you. Lucette has accepted me as her 
 betrothed. No doubt you are surprised," said 
 he, as he noticed her involuntary start. Draw 
 ing out a silk handkerchief from his pocket, he 
 unconsciously dropped a small addressed card. 
 141
 
 Looking keenly at Aclele he wondered what 
 effect his announcement had made upon her. 
 
 "Then I am at liberty to end all these 
 clandestine meetings," she rigidly remarked. 
 
 "Well, yes," he replied with a drawling ac 
 cent. "I am sorry things did not turn out as 
 well as we expected. As far as I am con 
 cerned I have nothing to regret, but the loss 
 of my brave young friend, the lieutenant." 
 
 "While I ' returned Adele bitterly. 
 
 "Have suffered," interrupted DeMonte, "by 
 loving and losing the lieutenant." 
 
 "Do you mean to infer that Lieutenant 
 Fielding never cared for me?" asked Adele, 
 a humiliating blush mantling her cheeks. "That 
 you lured me on with false hope with the 
 selfish motive of only benefiting yourself?" 
 she asked, in an injured, indignant tone. 
 
 "Pray, don't get excited, dear girl, remem 
 ber the old adage 'All's fair in love and 
 war.' ' : 
 
 "So," she said, trembling and white with 
 rage. "Then you have lied to me. I shall pro 
 claim you," she threatened. 
 
 "No," replied DeMonte, coolly biting his 
 lip and looking her keenly in the face. "You 
 would only implicate yourself. Take my ad- 
 142
 
 vice. Nurse your wrath tenderly, little girl, if 
 you will, but keep a still tongue." 
 
 "Enough," bitterly cried Adele, pointing to 
 the door. "Go from my presence. I sincerely 
 regret that I ever left myself for an instant 
 in your power. I am sufficiently punished. Go, 
 you ingrate, I hope never to set eyes on you 
 again," she said, turning away, her eyes brim 
 ming with pent-up tears. 
 
 "Come, Adele," requested he. "Shake hands 
 Must we part in anger? Bid me good-bye," 
 he said, as she still remained turned from his 
 gaze, wrapped up in her silent, stony atti 
 tude of contempt. 
 
 "Sullen, eh?" commented he, apparently 
 somewhat disturbed. After a moment's pause 
 he said: "Allow me to inform you that the 
 outer gate is locked and the bloodhounds are 
 loose. Probably it would be unsafe for me 
 to pass out of the grounds this late alone." 
 
 "Go," said she, turning and facing him. "I'll 
 show you more mercy than you deserve. I 
 have command over the brutes. Lead on, 
 coward," she hissed, as she followed him 
 through the open door. 
 
 "Scoundrel," ejaculated Leigh, parting the 
 curtains, immediately after DeMonte and 
 Adele had left the room. "Some one ap- 
 143
 
 preaches," he exclaimed, as Lucette softly 
 made her appearance. 
 
 "Still up, Leigh?" inquired Lucette, in a 
 surprised tone of voice. She was attired in 
 a loose evening robe, her luxuriant curls fell 
 carelessly down her back. "I found it impos 
 sible to sleep," said she, in an apologizing 
 tone (as Leigh looked surprised at her), and 
 wanted something to read. I believe I left my 
 book here. Yes, here it is," she said, picking 
 up the book from off the table. She turned 
 and was about to retrace her steps, when Leigh 
 intercepted her. Cautiously looking about, he 
 said: 
 
 "I have some important news. Sh," he con 
 tinued, cautioning her to silence. "Some one 
 approaches. No matter what I say, coin 
 cide with me and let nothing surprise you." 
 With this warning to Lucette, he crossed over 
 to the windows and made a pretense of locking 
 them for the night. 
 
 "Lucette !" exclaimed Adele, breathless with 
 surprise on entering the room, and perceiv 
 ing it occupied. "Why, I thought everybody 
 had retired," she anxiously looked first at 
 Lucette and then at Leigh, perplexed, as if 
 inviting an explanation. 
 
 "I came in to turn off the lights and secure 
 144
 
 the windows for the night and found Miss 
 Lucette at this untimely hour looking for a 
 book to read. She seems to be very nervous 
 and I have been trying to prevail upon her 
 that she needs a change of air, as it would be 
 beneficial to her, and would enable her to 
 sleep well at night, instead of taxing her brain 
 reading until the wee, wee hours of the morn 
 ing." 
 
 "Lucette is very nervous and exceedingly 
 restless," said Adele, recovering her com 
 posure. 
 
 "Miss Lucette," declared Leigh in an as 
 sumed masterly tone of voice. "I insist upon 
 you to be ready in the course of a day or so 
 to take a short trip to some mountain resort, 
 where yon can derive some benefit from the 
 bracing air." 
 
 "A good idea, Leigh, she needs a change 
 badly," affirmed Adele. "Jute may accompany 
 you," suggested Leigh. "We'll find use for lit 
 tle 'Fuzzy' all right," said he, laughing. 
 
 "Yes, 'Lucette, you must certainly avail your 
 self of the opporunity. It will revive your 
 spirits, and bring the bloom to your cheeks 
 again. Good night, dear," she said, kissing 
 Lucette lightly on the cheek. She then made 
 her exit from the room. 
 145
 
 "Tonight," said Leigh, in an undertone to 
 Lucette, "I witnessed a secret meeting here 
 between Roderick DeMonte and Adele Thorn, 
 and I overhead a conversation which con 
 firms my suspicion." 
 
 "What does all this mean," cried Lucette, 
 agitated. 
 
 Do not question me so closely at present, 
 Lucette. Help me to carry out my plan and 
 you shall learn all," said he, casually stoop 
 ing and picking up a small card which he held 
 carelessly in his hand for a moment. Then, 
 scrutinizing it keenly, he exclaimed in a hoarse 
 choking voice : "Great heavens," then passed 
 the card to Lucette, while beads of perspira 
 tion broke out upon his brow. 
 
 Lucette tremblingly took the card, and in a 
 frightened voice read: "WILLIAM H. 
 CHESTERFIELD, MT. INN, SUMMIT." 
 
 "That is my handwriting. The very card Mr. 
 Fielding had in his pocket the morning he un 
 dertook that perilous journey." 
 
 "Well, well," cried Lucette, trembling and 
 clutching the table, waiting in breathless ex 
 pectation. 
 
 "Well, Roderick DeMonte evidently mur 
 dered Mr. Fielding." 
 
 Lucette, reeling, fell in a faint in Leigh's 
 arms. 
 
 146
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 THE EAGLE'S REST 
 
 The Autumn morning was radiantly beauti 
 ful. The air balmy and refreshing, the moun 
 tain scenery sublime. Nestling on the brow of 
 the mountain was a little picturesque inn called 
 the ''Eagle's Rest." A sort of miners' resort, 
 and situated about a mile and a half from the 
 Lucette Mine. Seated on the veranda of this 
 charming mountain inn, Harry Leigh was en 
 joying his pipe and at the same time scanning 
 a newspaper. He was commonly dressed in 
 the garb of a laborer. His clear-cut features 
 were hidden beneath a broad brimmed hat 
 which he wore, and the false beard further 
 disguised his appearance. Suddenly the inn 
 door was pushed ajar as Criss, the negro por 
 ter, with a broad grin on his face, came out. 
 
 Addressing Leigh, he said: "So, stranger, 
 you lost da game?" 
 
 "Well, yes," replied Leigh, taking the pipe 
 from his mouth. 
 
 'Tse nebber see'd dat lucky in'vidu'l beaten 
 yet. He brushed da dust from many a poor 
 debbil 'roun dese parts." 
 147
 
 "How long has he been around here?" asked 
 Leigh, quickly. 
 
 "Oh, he comes 'round 'casionally. He's 
 int'rested in a mine 'long side ob dar Lucette 
 Mine, whar da murder be commit'd some time 
 "go." 
 
 "Ah, yes, I remember reading an account 
 of it." 
 
 Criss resumed, musingly: "Funny da son 
 nebber turned up. Da groun' must hab swal 
 lowed him up. Berry sad 'fair. Dar am da 
 bell, I must be off and tend to ma business," 
 as the signal of a bell struck his ear. 
 
 "Just as I expected, DeMonte is here," 
 soliloquized Leigh. "Yes ; and a confirmed 
 gambler. He does not suspect it was I who 
 played a game of poker with him for the 
 last half hour." Leigh arose as the rumbling 
 of wheels fell upon his ear. The stage coach, 
 on which I expect Lucette and Jute," mused 
 he. 
 
 Criss quickly came from within at the sound 
 of the approaching conveyance, and running 
 down the steps of the inn, went to meet the 
 lumbering vehicle. Opening the little narrow 
 door of the stage coach, he assisted the two 
 lone passengers to alight. Taking up their 
 148
 
 valises, he led the way up the steps into the 
 inn. 
 
 "Your disguises are good," whispered Leigh, 
 as Lucette and Jute passed by him on the 
 veranda. "I shall await you here, Lucette." 
 Then he suddenly became engrossed in his 
 newspaper just as Roderick DeMonte strolled 
 from one of the mountain paths that led up 
 to the inn. DeMonte seated himself upon a 
 bench near by, lit a cigar, thoroughly satisfied 
 with his thoughts, which were as follows: 
 "Three days have I resided here. The mine 
 murder is a thing of the past. I have engaged 
 the men to work on my claim. Every thing 
 settled I must hasten back to my darling Lu 
 cette. It seems an eternity since I parted from 
 her. Congratulate yourself, DeMonte, you 
 are a lucky dog. Even Esperanza is a thing 
 of the past. Never have I laid my eyes upon 
 her since the night we parted. The old hut 
 is deserted and all trace of her is lost." De- 
 Monte's train of thought was cut short by 
 Larry Leigh, who, casting his paper aside, 
 slowly descended the well-worn steps of the 
 "Eagle's Rest" and sauntered casually in De- 
 Monte's direction. 
 
 DeMonte. disturbed from his revery, looked 
 up, whereupon Leigh availed himself of the 
 149
 
 opportunity to address him with thee words : 
 "Good day, sir; how soon do we commence: 
 work on the mine?" 
 
 "In a couple of days or so," answered he in 
 a gruff voice. "If you need a little money I 
 will advance it to you," asserted DeMonte, 
 with an air of bravado. 
 
 "Thanks. Not at all, only I would like to 
 get busy," hesitatingly returned Leigh. Then 
 leisurely sauntering toward the steps leading 
 up to the inn, he sat down. 
 
 "Well," thought DeMonte, gazing after him. 
 "it is a great pity that there is not more like 
 you in the world." 
 
 At that moment Lucette, disguised as a Sal 
 vation Army lassie, appeared at the door of 
 the inn, accompanied by Jute. Lucette stand 
 ing there on the veranda in her dark blue dress 
 of serge, her pretty face hid beneath a large 
 poke bonnet, disguised with a gray wig and 
 goggles, gave to the inn of the "Eagle's Rest" 
 an air of quietude to which it was not usually 
 accustomed. Jute, leaning on a crutch beside 
 her, looked very ill at ease, dressed in a suit of 
 white overalls and jumper. An old straw 
 hat was well pulled down over her face 
 
 Lucette, suddenly recognizing DeMonte, ex- 
 
 150
 
 claimed softly: "As I live, Jute, there stands 
 I)c Monte. Leigh has tracked him, sure." 
 
 "Oh, Missy, doan yo' betray yo' selb,' cried 
 Jute, agitated. 
 
 "I say, 'Uncle Rube,' " said DeMonte, turn 
 ing and surveying Jute, "Expect to do any 
 business in these here parts? How many of 
 your band are along with you ?" 
 
 "Well," she replied, hesitatingly, "dey be 
 tree ob us if yo'll jine," she said, displaying a 
 tambourine which she brought out from be 
 neath her blouse. "Will yo' jine us, sah," she 
 inquired, shaking the tambourine in an en 
 deavor to dispel her agitation. 
 
 "No thank you," said he sneeringly. "I am 
 not very much inclined to be musical, I assure 
 you." 
 
 "I say, boss," said Jute, anxious to change 
 the subject. "Which am de trail to de canyon?" 
 
 "Straight ahead, then turn to your left," 
 said he gruffly. 
 
 "Thanks, boss," she replied, ovenvilling to 
 get out of his sight. She nimbly hobbled 
 away. 
 
 "They want to convert us fellows up here," 
 said Leigh, turning to DeMonte, as he whittled 
 a stick to remove the nicotine from his pipe. 
 
 "I dare say we need it badly," replied De- 
 Monte, walking away. 
 
 151
 
 "Keep incognito and all will be well. I think 
 I have my man sure," cautiously whispered 
 Leigh to Lucette. 
 
 "Say, can you tella me, senior, where I canna 
 fina da boss of Rattlesnake Mine?" inquired a 
 chunky little dark complexioned Italian, 
 dressed in blue overalls, a blue flannel shirt, 
 high heeled calf skin boots and wearing a 
 dinky little cap on the back of his dark curly 
 head. 
 
 "He has reference to DeMonte," whispered 
 Leigh to Lucette. Then addressing the Italian 
 in question, Leigh answered: 
 
 "I am certain he was here but a moment 
 ago." 
 
 "Dey tella me he wanta gooda man to worka. 
 You worka for him?" 
 
 "Yes," replied Leigh. 
 
 "Alia righta ; shaka handa comrada. I like 
 toa bea your frienda. I seea you againa," re 
 turned Miner Joe, the little Italian, as he en 
 tered the "Eagle's Rest" in quest of DeMonte. 
 
 "Here comes Jute with Criss. Let us sepa 
 rate." said Leigh in an undertone, quickly to 
 Lucette. Leigh seated himself in a chair on 
 the veranda as Lucette hastily entered the 
 "Eagle's Rest." 
 
 "Don see 'Lucky' nowhare. Gess dat fellah 
 152
 
 Joe hab to wait his pleasure. Dat mine mur 
 der yo' be tellin' me 'bout. Did dey cotch de 
 young fellah?" asked Jute, hobbling along. 
 
 "No, sah. He skipped sure as yo' born. Dem 
 miners will be apt to see spooks walkin' off 
 wid da gold some nite," said Criss, with a 
 shake of his head. 
 
 "I'se heard so much 'bout dat mine murder 
 I'se got great curios'ty to see it some time." 
 
 "I know da short cut ober da mountain. I'se 
 got time," said he looking at his watch. Sup 
 pose we go fo' a walk if yo' say so. Would 
 yo' frien' like to 'company us?" 
 
 "Certainly," replied Lucette, eagerly, as she 
 stood at the door. I would be most happy 
 to join you. Suppose we start at once. 
 
 "All rite. Come on, dis way folks," said 
 Criss, taking the lead, Lucette and Jute fol 
 lowing. 
 
 153
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 THE ASSAULT 
 
 The afternoon's sun was gradually sinking. 
 A cool breeze wafted gently through the 
 rugged mountain pass that led up to the Lu- 
 cette Mine. The thud of a heavy walking 
 stick kept time with the step of Roderick De- 
 Monte, who walked briskly through the moun 
 tain pass. He suddenly paused, scanned his 
 timepiece, then remarked to himself: "I have 
 just time to take a trip over to the mine and 
 back before dusk." Looking up he peered 
 anxiously before him, exclaiming aloud in a 
 surprised, inquiring tone of voice. "A woman, 
 coming this way ! Where does she hail from 
 here in the heart of the mountain? Great 
 heavens ! Can it be she," he exclaimed. Great 
 beads of perspiration starting out on his fore 
 head, as he breathlessly cried: "You? You 
 here?" As the figure of a woman approached 
 slowly. 
 
 "Art thou surprised?" she answered him. 
 startled. "Where else should the gypsy outcast 
 roam?" "I thought that you had left these 
 parts." remarked he. "The hut is deserted. "* 
 154
 
 "Roderick," she cried, wringing her hands, 
 "them wouldst recall those bitter memories." 
 
 "Come, woman," he scowlingly said. "Have 
 you not done with that nonsense yet?" 
 
 "\i>." she wildly cried. ''To have loved thee 
 once was forever. In spite of thy cruel hate I 
 love thee still. Oh, Roderick, despise not my 
 weakness. None will ever love thee as I. Take 
 me," she imploringly cried, as she knelt on 
 the road at his feet. "Take me to thy heart 
 again," she pleadingly cried, "ere my gypsy 
 blood be maddened with despair." 
 
 "Enough," he threateningly ejaculated, 
 bending over her, then clinching his teeth and 
 with a cruel look flashing from his eyes, said: 
 "Your entreaties only make a brute of me. I 
 spurn I despise your love," he hissed. "Be 
 gone viper from my path." She arose sud 
 denly, her eyes gleaming wildly, her long lux 
 uriant tresses became disarranged and fell like 
 a mantle o'er her shoulders as if to shield her 
 from his cruel, threatening blow. Then boldly 
 confronting him she gasped: "DEMON ! Doth 
 thou know y that thou art in my power ! That 
 I possess thy secret !" 
 
 "You she-devil," he hissed, turning livid. 
 "Take that, and raising his heavy cane he 
 155
 
 struck her a cruel, stinging blow, which felled 
 her to the ground. 
 
 Voices were suddenly wafted on the breeze. 
 
 DeMonte listened intently for a moment, 
 then buttoning up his coat he hastily fled, leav 
 ing Esperanza lying unconscious on the 
 ground. 
 
 "Come, folks," cried Criss, his head popping 
 over a large boulder. ''Gib me yo' hand 'n I'll 
 help yo' over. Dat's right," said he, as Lucette 
 and Jute endeavored to follow him : "All rite 
 now, cried he," as he held out his hand and 
 helped Lucette to descend the well-worn trail, 
 Jute following slowly after. 
 
 "Hello! Who da debbil am dis?" Criss cried 
 out in a surprised voice, as he discovered the 
 prostrate form of Esperanza lying on the road. 
 "A woman," said he, kneeling by her side and 
 gazing at her anxiously. "And she 'pears clean 
 dead." 
 
 "A woman?" repeated Lucette, kneeling at 
 her side. "Quick! There must be life. Some 
 water." Tearing off her straw bonnet quickly 
 she gave it to Criss, who started off to secure 
 some water from the nearby ravine. 
 
 Jute, taking out a flask from beneath her 
 blouse, she offered it to Lucette, saying: "Gib 
 her a moufful of-dis, Missy." 
 156
 
 "Who can she possibly be?" asked Lucette, 
 inquiringly. Scanning her face intently and 
 at the same time holding the bottle to her lips. 
 "Probably she was faint from exhaustion and 
 fell by the roadside." 
 
 "Look, Missy, she's a comin' to," exclaimed 
 Jute, who suddenly dropped the bottle of 
 brandy which Lucette had passed back to her, 
 as she recognized the gypsy, Esperanza. Drop 
 ping suddenly upon her knees, rolling up her 
 eyes and trembling violently with the nervous 
 shock, she received upon meeting the gypsy 
 woman again, she cried out in an alarmed 
 voice : "Oh ! She be de debbil of a gypsy dat 
 dropped from de clouds. Oh, Lordy! Good 
 Lordy !" she imploringly cried : "Sabe yo' frock 
 in de wilderness dis day." Prayerfully clasp 
 ing her hands, she rocked herself to and fro 
 in her nervous excitement. 
 
 "Hush! Hush!" softly whispered Lucette. 
 "You will betray us. She will not hurt you. 
 She is powerless. Oh, this is terrible." 
 
 "How is she?" asked Criss, anxiously, as he 
 appeared with Lucette's straw bonnet half 
 filled with water: "Is she comin' to, nigger?" 
 he asked, sprinkling Esperanza's face with 
 some water. 
 
 "Aler Mercy Roderick Mercy," slowly 
 157
 
 murmured Esperanza, as she regained con 
 sciousness. 
 
 "Yo' hear dat name, Missy?" said Jute, al 
 most in hysterics, as she clutched Lucette by 
 the arm. 
 
 "Silence!" commanded Lucette. 
 
 " 'Pears dis young woman hab got some 
 trouble on her mind," suggested Criss. 
 
 "Xo\v, that she has almost regained her 
 senses, perhaps she can tell us where she lives. 
 "My good woman, are you better?" kindly 
 asked Lucette, smoothing Esperanza's brow. 
 
 "Oh, my head my head," murmured Esper 
 anza feebly, opening her soulful gazelle-like 
 eyes. 
 
 "How did yo' hurt yo'self," inquired Criss. 
 
 Looking around bewildered, she falteringly 
 answered: "I was struck. I fell against a rock." 
 
 "Who struck you ?" asked Lucette, amazed. 
 "Tell me." 
 
 Esperanza endeavored to rise, her breath 
 coming quickly, she excitedly panted : "A 
 coward Roderick DeMonte." And then, as if 
 the exertion was too much, she leaned her head 
 heavily against Lucette's arm and wearily 
 closed her eyes. 
 
 Lucette and Jute exchanged a quick glance 
 as Criss slowfy shaking his head, remarked: 
 153
 
 "Xebber heard dat name 'round dese yer dig- 
 gin's." 
 
 "\Ve must learn this woman's abode," whisp 
 ered Lucette to Jute. "Come," she said, gently 
 helping to raise Esperanza. "We will gladly 
 assist you home." 
 
 Ksperanza gazed in a startled manner at 
 Lucette as if undecided whether to trust her 
 or not. Then, making an attempt to stand up, 
 with the assistance of Criss and Jute, she in a 
 trembling voice said : ''Thanks, lady, I'm 
 ready." Raising her hand languidly, she indi 
 cated the direction the party were to take, say 
 ing. "L'p yonder trail." Feebly tottering, they 
 assisted her with difficulty up the rocky moun 
 tain pass. 
 
 159
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 TRACKED 
 
 Seated at a rustic table that stood on the 
 ground in front of the "Eagle's Rest" sat 
 Leigh and Miner Joe on the afternoon late of 
 the same day of the preceding chapter. They 
 were earnestly conversing and Miner Joe, 
 busily engaged in refilling Leigh's glass from 
 the bottle which stood upon the table, insisting 
 that Leigh partake abundantly of the wine, say 
 ing: "Da besta drinka in da world. Wine giva 
 man da strength of onea lion. Who is data 
 fellar?" asked Joe of Leigh as he looked 
 steadily at DeMonte, who at that moment 
 came along and seated himself at a rustic 
 table opposite, and was soon engaged in read 
 ing a newspaper. 
 
 "Why, don't you know him? That's the 
 boss. 'Lucky' they call him around here." 
 
 "I've seena data fellar befora. I ama surea. 
 He is a nota gooda one," said Joe, scrutiniz 
 ing DeMonte. 
 
 Leigh, quickly pouring out a glass of wine, 
 passed it to Joe, who mechanically took it, 
 Leigh meanwhile thinking that it would in- 
 160
 
 duce him to talk. "We are friends Joe," re 
 marked Leigh. "Now tell me where have you 
 seen that man (pointing to DeMonte) be 
 fore? You may do me a great service by in 
 forming me." 
 
 "I owna a fishing boata down at Santa Cruz. 
 One day I bea busy catcha da fisha. I seea two 
 mana onea boata. Thata fellar upset da boata. 
 Den da two mana fella in da water. He savea 
 he's selfa," said Joe, nodding toward DeMonte. 
 Then, continuing, "He leta da other mana go. 
 Wella, I myself a savea da other mana and 
 tooka him to my housea on da beacha. I goa 
 back to my fisha and da nexta da I finda thisa 
 picture," said he, pulling out a miniature from 
 his pocket and handing it to Leigh. 
 
 "Did you ever meet him again?" asked 
 Leigh inquiringly. 
 
 "I lefta da Santa Cruz. I never seea hfm 
 until thisa time." 
 
 "Would you know the man whose life you 
 saved?" inquired Leigh of Joe, earnestly. 
 
 "I remembera hisa facea wella." 
 
 "You are a brave man Joe," said Leigh, 
 grasping his hand across the table. "And you 
 are my friend, Joe." 
 
 "Phew! Fse had 'venture 'miff fo' one day," 
 said Criss, addressing the crowd who happened 
 161
 
 to be lounging in front of the "Eagle's Rest," 
 as he passed by. He stopped a moment to ar 
 range his tie and brush the dust from his boots 
 with a large bandana, which he drew forth 
 from his pocket. 
 
 "An adventure?" asked DeMonte, suddenly 
 dropping the newspaper he had been reading. 
 "\Yhat adventure was that, Criss?" 
 
 "We stumbled upon a woman lyin' sense 
 less 'pon da mountain pass. It seems some one 
 struck her." 
 
 "Some half-breed, no doubt," returned De- 
 Monte, assuming an air of bravado. "What 
 has become of her now.?" 
 
 "Ask me an easy one 'Lucky/ replied Criss. 
 "De Salbationists and myself offer'd to see da 
 woman sably home. She took us as far as da 
 cliffs, when she gib us da slip. We loss all 
 track ob her," continued Criss, as he lightly 
 ran up the steps of the "Eagle's Rest." 
 
 "It is Esperanza they encountered," thought 
 DeMonte to himself, biting his lip with rage. 
 "She must have taken refuge in one of the 
 caves. She will not escape me again," he vowed 
 under his breath. "I thought I had finished 
 her this time." 
 
 "J iay, boss," called out Leigh, turning to 
 DeMonte. "You are acquainted pretty well 
 162
 
 around this part of the country. Suppose we 
 form a searching party and try to ferret her 
 out." 
 
 "She may need assistance," quietly remarked 
 Lucette, who was seated on a bench, resting 
 after her long walk. 
 
 "My time is much too valuable, lady, to 
 waste in scouring the country looking for a 
 wild half-breed." 
 
 "Remember, she is a woman," said Lucette 
 reproachfully. 
 
 "Yes, madam," returned DeMonte bowing, 
 a sarcastic smile playing about the corners of 
 his mouth. "And probably would require the 
 services of her own sex. If she has taken 
 refuge about the cliffs it would be almost a 
 miracle to find her." Bowing, he walked away. 
 
 "Keep an eye on that fellow," whispered 
 Leigh to Joe. 
 
 "Leavea thata toa me," answered Joe, as 
 he leisurely sauntered off in the same direction 
 DeMonte had taken. 
 
 Lucette, drawing near Leigh, excitedly 
 whispered: "It was the gypsy woman we met. 
 She must be connected with DeMonte in some 
 way. It was he who struck her." 
 
 "Come then," excitedly cried Leigh. "We 
 must form a searching party and away to the 
 cliffs. The net coils around him. Quick to 
 summon a posse to track him."
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 THE CAVE IN THE SIERRAS 
 
 The sky was one lucent glare from the rays 
 of the setting sun, which cast its radiance in a 
 glorious farewell as if kissing and caressing 
 the cliffs in its good night embrace. The birds 
 had long since gone to rest. The silent 
 grandeur of the mountainous canyon was 
 aweing. All nature seemed to be at rest, only 
 to be awakened by a fleeting footstep which 
 disturbed the sublime quietude in the form oi 
 Esperanza, the gypsy, who quickly ran breath 
 lessly panting, toward the entrance of a secret 
 cave which had been her abode since the night 
 she had deserted her mountain hut. 
 
 Looking quickly around as if she were pur 
 sued by some unseen presence, and reassuring 
 herself that she was undetected, she entered 
 the cave, and with her heart violently throb 
 bing, she sank down upon a rude pallet which 
 was one of the few furnishings of the interior 
 of the rocky structure. 
 
 "Home at last," she exclaimed. "Surely the 
 strangers could not have tracked me, fleet as 
 I am. Did'st I in my madness allow an un- 
 164
 
 guarded word to escape my lips? If so Oh, 
 Roderick, thou hath brought thy doom upon 
 thyself." Sighing deeply, she arose, and, cross 
 ing over to one end of the cave, she drew 
 aside a large dried skin which served as a 
 portier to the adjoining apartment, or inner 
 cave. Listening intently for a moment, and 
 apparently satisfied, she returned to the pal 
 let where she cast herself down, murmuring, 
 "My tortured brain needs rest rest. Sleep 
 blessed sleep come, come to mine eyes," she 
 cried. "Oh, Nature's sweet repose. Come, 
 come to my aid." 
 
 Her drowsy orbs needed only to be closed 
 when the sweet sleep which her tortured brain 
 and body required, lulled her to rest. As she 
 lay asleep upon the rude pallet her beautiful 
 face flushed with the excitement of the strenu 
 ous past hour, her luxuriant tresses escaping 
 from their massive coils and falling carelessly 
 upon the moss pillow, her beautiful molded arm 
 thrown above her classic face, she formed a 
 picture for an artist's dream. Her perfectly 
 formed bosom rose and fell with a regular 
 motion as Nature's deep, sweet sleep stamped 
 its refreshing balm on Esperanza's form. 
 
 Suddenly a hand stealthily parted the curtain 
 at the entrance to the cave, revealing the dark 
 165
 
 sinister face of Roderick DeMonte, as he 
 cautiously peered within and then ventured to 
 ward the sleeping gypsy, Esperanza. Gazing 
 around, he listened attentively and was so in 
 tently occupied in his efforts not to arouse the 
 fair sleeper that he failed to perceive the form 
 of a burly stranger who entered the cave im 
 mediately after him, concealing himself behind 
 a projecting rock which kind nature had placed 
 within the cave. 
 
 "Ah," hissed DeMonte, as a lurid glare 
 spread o'er his countenance. "So," soliloquized 
 he. "I have found your abode at last. Now, 
 I intend to exterminate you from my path for 
 ever. No one evidently knows of this secret 
 haunt. Yon," he hissed, a glitter in his snake- 
 like eyes, as he bent over her and scanned her 
 placid features. "You know my secret, but it 
 shall die with you. Sleep, woman, sleep the 
 eternal sleep with that smile on your face." 
 And raising his hand, "This knife " 
 
 "Hold ! Yillian," excitedly cried the burly in 
 dividual, who, unperceived by DeMonte, 
 rushed from behind the shielding rock and 
 dashed the knife from DeMonte's hand, just 
 as he was about to thrust it into Esperanza's 
 heart. 
 
 The tumult awakened the gypsy, who sud- 
 166
 
 denly arose and in a dazed manner confronted 
 the two men. 
 
 "Who are you?" exclaimed DeMonte, with 
 baffled rage, and turning deathly pale as he 
 was taken by surprise. Advancing a step to 
 recover the knife, he again cried out: "Fiend, 
 who are you ?" 
 
 "Larry Leigh," pronounced the burly in 
 dividual, as he instantly removed his false 
 beard and defiantly faced him. 
 
 "I'll have your life," excitedly retorted De- 
 Monte, the cold perspiration breaking out all 
 over him, and making a lunge at Leigh, he 
 stooped quickly and recovered the knife. With 
 uplifted arm he was on the verge of inflicting 
 on Leigh a severe blow, when Lieutenant 
 Fielding suddenly appeared at the entrance 
 of the adjoining apartment within the cave. 
 His left arm was still in a sling, and with his 
 right hand he leveled a pistol at DeMonte, 
 coolly exclaiming: "Move another inch and I 
 will send a bullet through your heart." 
 
 "Ah ! the escaped assassin," cried DeMonte, 
 livid with fear, as he immediately recognized 
 and pointed to the long-sought-for lieutenant. 
 
 The commotion instantly brought Lucette 
 and Jute, who had accompanied Leigh to the 
 cave, upon the scene, as the gypsy woman de- 
 167
 
 fiantly exclaimed, her eyes' riveted on De- 
 Monte wildly: "Thou art the assassin, I, the 
 witness," she asserted, her eyes flashing, her 
 cheeks burning with overwrought excitement. 
 
 "Saved! Bertie saved," joyfully cried Lu- 
 cette, rushing to the lieutenant's side and 
 throwing her arms wildly about his neck. 
 Casting her bonnet and gray wig aside, her 
 lovely golden head of massive curls nestled 
 on the lieutenant's bosom. 
 
 "Lucette! You?" cried the lieutenant, re 
 turning her embrace affectionately in the ex 
 citement of the moment. 
 
 DeMonte, staggering, turned livid with sup 
 pressed rage as he beheld Lucette in the lieu 
 tenant's embrace. 
 
 "God bress yo', Massa Bert. I'se Jute," said 
 she, uncovering her frowsy head. " 'Scuse ma 
 costum' " agitatedly cried she, trembling visi 
 bly with the excitement she was compelled to 
 undergo. 
 
 "Now to escape," thought DeMonte. Quickly 
 seizing the opportunity caused by the reunion 
 of the lovers, he made a bold dash for liberty 
 through the entrance to the cave and was lost 
 to sight before the startled party were aware 
 of his escape. 
 
 The entire occupants of the cave instantly 
 168
 
 started in pursuit, led by Leigh. He had hardly 
 reached the entrance to the cave when they, 
 were astonished to behold De Monte being 
 backed in to the interior of the cave cower 
 ing. Held at bay by Miner Joe, who had him 
 covered with two revolvers. The Sheriff and 
 the posse closely following. 
 
 "I keepa two eyes on dis fellah, and I keepa 
 one handa, too." 
 
 "What's the trouble here," demanded the 
 sheriff in a gruff voice. 
 
 "Well, Sheriff," spoke up Leigh, "That 
 man," indicating DeMonte, "has made an at 
 tempt to assassinate this woman," said he, 
 pointing to Esperanza. 
 
 "He is nota da firsta person hea trya to 
 kill," said Miner Joe, looking at DeMonte as 
 he shook his head knowingly. 
 
 "Secure him, men," commanded Sheriff 
 Hunt, whereupon the posse surrounded De- 
 Monte. 
 
 "Gran Dio," exclaimed Joe, recognizing the 
 lieutenant. Turning to Leigh he whispered: 
 "Thata isa the mana whose lifea I sava." 
 
 "Excuse me one moment, Sheriff," said 
 Leigh, crossing to the side of the lieutenant. 
 Producing a miniature, he asked : "Do you 
 recognize this, Lieutenant?" 
 169
 
 Lieutenant Fielding, examining the mina- 
 ture, answered in a low voice, "My mother's 
 face." 
 
 "Then it was you," asserted Leigh, turning 
 to Joe. "And not that scoundrel," indicating 
 DeMonte, "who rescued you, Lieutenant, from 
 a watery grave," saying this, he looked at 
 DeMonte in utter contempt. 
 
 "This man is dangerous," said the sheriff im 
 patiently, "as he has made an attempt to take 
 this woman's life " 
 
 "And mine also," interrupted Lieutenant 
 Fielding, stepping boldly forward. "And," re 
 sumed he, "but for the kindness of this gypsy 
 woman I would never have survived the mur 
 derous assault which that villain, DeMonte, 
 inflicted upon me." 
 
 "I suppose you recognize this also," said 
 Leigh to Lieutenant Fielding, handing him a 
 small white card. 
 
 "Yes," answered Lieutenant Fielding, slowly 
 perusing it. "The address you wrote for father 
 the night before he left home," said the lieu 
 tenant, looking up inquiringly. 
 
 "Then, Sheriff," said Leigh, "I furthermore 
 accuse Roderick DeMonte of being the mur 
 derer of Mr. Fielding." 
 
 "Great God," cried Lieutenant Fielding, a 
 170
 
 cold clammy prespiration oozing from his 
 forehead. "My father murdered?" he gasped, 
 sinking down on a stump of a tree which 
 served as a seat in the rude apartment. "Oh, 
 this cruel, cruel blow," cried he, "staggers' 
 me," as he clutched his head with his un 
 harmed hand. 
 
 "Bertie, dear," caressingly said Lucette, 
 kneeling beside Tiim and endeavoring gently 
 to soothe him. "And you, you Bertie, have 
 been accused of the crime. But I, for one 
 moment, never doubted your innocence," she 
 tearfully cried. 
 
 "\Yoman?" questioned the lieutenant, rising 
 and looking searchingly into Esperanza's 
 face, "Why have you concealed this from 
 me ?" 
 
 Bowing her head, she answered in a cold, 
 still voice. "Thou wert ill unto death." 
 
 "My father murdered," repeated Lieutenant 
 Fielding, dazed with despair. "Dead ! Dead !" 
 continued he in a bewildered voice. Then sud 
 denly glaring at DeMonte, he rushed threaten 
 ingly toward him, crying out: "And by you 
 fiend." Lucette tearfully rushed between them 
 and cried, "Withhold, Bertie, for my sake. 
 Don't sully your hands on that wretch." 
 
 "Come boys, make haste. Make ready the 
 noose," commanded the sheriff. 
 171
 
 "So it is you who has betrayed me," hissed 
 DeMonte to Esperanza, his eyes wildly glar 
 ing from their sockets. 
 
 . "Thou hast earned thy doom," she said sul 
 lenly, clutching her hands nervously. 
 
 "Baffled! Defeated! Overcome!" cried De- 
 Monte, surveying the crowd in his wild 
 despair. 
 
 "Confess you are guilty of these crimes," 
 commanded Sheriff Hunt, looking sternly at 
 DeMonte. 
 
 "Guilty? What can I say in my defense? 
 Hunted ! Defeated ! Overcome ! With an in 
 furiated mob seeking my life's blood. You 
 shall have it. Then let no one say that Roderick 
 DeMonte died a coward. Away with the noose 
 and Fll stand target for your vengeance." 
 
 "For my sake grant his last request," 
 piteously implored Esperanza, kneeling at the 
 feet of Sheriff Hunt. 
 
 " Tis well." replied the sheriff, bluntly. 
 "We'll grant that request." 
 
 "Thanks, release me," said DeMonte, with 
 a sigh, the color receding from his face, leav 
 ing it as ghastly as a chiseled marble statue. 
 "Allow my arms to be free. There is no earthly 
 escape for me now. I'm doomed," cried he 
 hoarsely, bearing his breast. "Now fire." 
 172
 
 "Steady, aim, fire," commanded the sheriff. 
 
 Before the last command escaped the 
 sheriff's lip, Esperanza deftly threw herself in 
 front of DeMonte. With outstretched arms she 
 received the bullet that was intended for De- 
 Montc. 
 
 A murmur of horror ran through the as 
 sembled group as Esperanza fell mortally 
 wounded. With great difficulty she managed 
 to drag herself close to DeMonte. Gasping: 
 "My death wound. I'm dying. My life for 
 thine. Say," she said gasping, "at last you 
 love me." 
 
 "I hate you," he bitterly said, bending over 
 her, and dying you still have my farewell 
 curse. You betrayed me. My death be on your 
 head." 
 
 "So be it," gasped she, and in her last dying 
 agony she made one strenuous effort. Drag 
 ging herself on her knees and grasping her 
 stilletto from her belt, with a death-grip she 
 plunged it quickly into his heart. Then fell 
 lifeless at his feet. 
 
 "Ah," gasped he, receiving the fatal thrust, 
 he fell dead over her lifeless body. 
 
 As the group gathered around, awed by this 
 unexpected tragedy, Lieutenant Fielding 
 173
 
 broke the solemn silence, saying: "Let us 
 hasten away from this accursed spot." 
 
 "Where the gypsy's prophecy has been ful 
 filled," tremblingly cried Lucette. 
 
 "And an outraged love has been avenged," 
 solemnly asserted Larry Leigh. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 174
 
 6969 9
 
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