The Copper Princess: A Story of Lake Superior Mines

by Kirk Munroe

  CHAPTER XXIX

  A ROYAL NAME FOR A ROYAL MINE

  Peveril was greatly distressed at the unforeseen and mysteriousdisappearance of the Darrells; for it made him feel as though he haddriven them from their home and usurped their rights. The place alsoseemed very empty and forlorn without Mary Darrell's winning face andall-pervading presence; for, though he had seen but little of her andhad reason to believe that she did not feel kindly towards him, he nowrealized how much his happiness had depended on the knowledge that shewas always close at hand.

  Then, too, the domestic establishment that ran on so smoothly underthe supervision of Aunty Nimmo was completely broken up. NellyTrefethen must, of course, return at once to Red Jacket, and this shedid that very day on Mary Darrell's pony, under escort of MikeConnell, who was only too happy to make the journey on foot. The fewmen employed by Mr. Darrell having been paid off and discharged, thedeparture of his two remaining friends left the young proprietorentirely alone, in a place as desolate as though it were beyond thereach of human knowledge. The sky was overcast, making the day darkand cheerless, so that, as Peveril wandered disconsolately about hisdeserted property, the future looked to him as gloomy as the present.

  "There can't be anything in it," he said to himself, as he gazedmoodily down the black mouth of the shaft. "Of course, the men whosank a fortune in that hole would have found it out long ago if therewere. As for those prehistoric workings on which the major counts solargely, I don't believe but what the old fellows who opened them alsomade a pretty thorough clean-up of everything in them. Certainly thefew small piles of copper that they left behind would not now pay fortheir removal.

  "It has all been very pleasant to dream of becoming a wealthymine-owner, but the sooner I realize that it is only a dream, and wakefrom it to the necessity of earning a livelihood by hard work, thebetter off I shall be. At any rate, I know I won't spend another dayalone in this place. If I did, I should go crazy. No wonder old manDarrell lost his mind under the conditions surrounding him. I don'tbelieve Major Arkell will come back, anyway. Why should he, if, as isprobable, he has discovered the utter worthlessness of the property?He knows that if he leaves me here alone I must turn up in Red Jacketsooner or later, and thinks the bad news he has to tell will keepuntil I do. Well, I shall throw the whole thing up to-morrow and go tohim for a job. There isn't anything else for it that I can see.

  "I guess he will give me something to do, and after a while I shallrise to be a plat-man, or timber boss, or even store-keeper, andthen--Well, then I can settle down and marry some nice girl like NellyTrefethen, perhaps achieve fame as a local politician, and so end mydays in a blaze of glory. Oh, it's a lovely prospect! As for poorRose, there's no use in thinking any longer of her, and the sooner sheforgets me the better. Probably she has ere this, and, if so, I can'tblame her."

  At length the long day dragged itself wearily away, and darkness foundPeveril faint with hunger, for he had not had the heart to prepare adinner, awkwardly attempting to provide himself with something to eatin Aunty Nimmo's kitchen. A single lamp threw a faint ray out from thewindow, and in all that forlorn little mining village it was the onlygleam of light to be seen.

  Suddenly there came a clatter of hoofs and a cheery "Hello, thehouse!"

  Instantly forgetful of his culinary operations, Peveril sprang to thedoor, just in time to fling it open and welcome Major Arkell, who wasalighting from a weary-looking horse.

  "What will you take for your Copper Princess, my boy?" shouted thenew-comer as he entered the room, rubbing his hands and sniffingexpectantly at the pleasant odors of cooking with which it waspervaded.

  "About five cents," responded Peveril.

  "Done! It's a bargain," cried the other. "And we'll settle the detailsof the transfer after eating the elegant supper that I discover inprocess of preparation. But you are not cooking half enough. I couldeat twice as much as that and still be hungry. Let me show you how.What has become of Aunty Nimmo, that I find you presiding over herdomain? Never mind; tell me later, after you've called Connell or someone to look after my horse."

  "I will gladly attend to the horse, major, if you will take charge ofthe cooking," said Peveril, laughing for the first time that day. "Yousee, I am not an expert at this sort of thing, and--"

  "No, I should judge not," interrupted the other, glancing comically atthe various burned, lumpy, and muddy failures with which the stove wascovered; "but I'll do the trick for you if you will look after thebeast."

  Half an hour later the two sat down to a bountiful and fairlywell-cooked meal that in the major's cheery company seemed to poor,hungry Peveril about as fine a one as he had ever eaten. While it wasin progress he told of the happenings of the past week, including themysterious disappearance of the Darrells; but, as the major did notseem to have any news to impart in return, he concluded that there wasnone to tell, and so forbore to ask questions.

  It was not until after they had finished supper and were sittingbefore a cheerful blaze in the cosey living-room of the Darrell housethat the major said:

  "Now for our bargain. Though I could, of course, hold you to thatfive-cent deal, I won't do so, but will, instead, make an offer of tenthousand dollars for one-half of your half-interest in the CopperPrincess."

  "What!" gasped Peveril.

  "Yes, I mean it; and, in addition, if you will devote that sum to thedevelopment of the mine, I will advance an equal amount, or tenthousand dollars more, for the same purpose. Now don't say a worduntil I have explained the situation. By a careful searching of oldrecords and maps I have discovered that the Princess property not onlyembraces our prehistoric mine, but extends some distance beyond it. Ithink I have also found out why those who originally laid out thismine started their cuts on the wrong side of their shaft. Theyevidently knew that ancient workings existed somewhere in thisneighborhood, but they were deceived as to their location, for on allthe maps I find them marked, but the place thus indicated is always inthe opposite direction from that in which we now know them to lie."

  "But--" began Peveril.

  "Wait a minute. Of course those old fellows may merely have struck apocket and exhausted it, but I don't believe so, and am willing torisk twenty thousand dollars on the continuance of the vein. If it isthere, that sum of money ought to enable us to reach it from yourpresent shaft; and if we do strike it, why, in the slang of the day,the Copper Princess is simply a 'peach.' Are you game to accept myoffer and go in for raising that kind of fruit?"

  "I certainly am."

  "Good! Shake. The bargain is made, and the sooner we get to work thebetter."

  Ten days from that time sees the legal formalities of that quicklyconcluded bargain settled, and the mining village of Copper Princesspresenting a vastly different appearance from what it did on themelancholy day when Peveril was its sole occupant. All its houses arenow occupied, and from every window cheery lights stream out with thecoming of evening shadows.

  Peveril occupies the comfortable quarters so long ago provided for themanager, and until recently the home of the Darrells. With him lives ayoung engineer of about his own age, recommended by Major Arkell, andhere, too, are the several offices. The nearest cottage to it is thatof our old friends the Trefethens--for Mark Trefethen is captain ofthe mine, and Tom is shaft boss. Mrs. Trefethen and Nelly have theirhands full in caring for both these houses and in providing meals fortheir occupants. Mike Connell is timber boss, and, in timbering theancient mine, as well as the new workings, is one of the busiest menin the place.

  Although he has a cottage of his own, it is still a lonely one, and heis looking eagerly forward to the time when the anxiously expectedvein shall be struck. Then, and not until then--and, in case it is notstruck at all, perhaps never--will Nelly Trefethen become his wife. Soit is no wonder that the impatient fellow descends the shaft each dayto anxiously inspect the new work.

  With nearly one hundred sturdy miners engaged on it, and the othertasks necessary to its progress, it is driven by night as w
ell as byday, and in reality advances with great rapidity, though to Connellit seems to creep by inches. The great chimney pours forth clouds ofsmoke, heavy skips hurry up and down the shaft, there is always acheerful ring of anvils, rafts of logs lie in the land-locked basin,men and teams are to be seen in every direction, and everywhere isheard the inspiring hum of many industries, though as yet not onepound of copper has been brought up from the underground depths.

  For weeks and months the work goes on with unabated energy. Peveril,always willing to listen to advice and never ashamed to ask it fromthose more experienced than himself, is everywhere, seeing toeverything and directing everything. Though he is thinner than when wefirst met him, and his face has taken on an anxious look, it wears atthe same time an expression of greater manliness, self-confidence, anddetermination.

  Major Arkell has not yet appeared on the scene in person, and only theyoung proprietor is known as the responsible head of all thisbewildering activity.

  It is bewildering to outsiders to see the long-abandoned "Darrell'sFolly" suddenly transformed into one of the busiest mining-camps ofthe copper region, for as yet no one, except Connell and theTrefethens, knows the secret hopes of the proprietors. Even those whoare driving the new side-cut far beneath the surface, straight as adie towards the prehistoric mine, though on a much lower level, knownot what they are expected to find.

  At length three months have passed since the night on which Peverilsold for ten thousand dollars an undivided half of his interest in theCopper Princess. Since that time he has not once left the scene of hislabors, his hopes, and his fears. He has not even visited Red Jacketsince the morning, that now seems so long ago, when he left it incharge of a gang of log-wreckers. Now the money put into this newventure is very nearly exhausted. It will hold out for one morepay-day, but that is all. And as yet only barren rock has come up fromthat yawning shaft that seems to gulp down money with an appetite atonce inordinate and insatiable.

  A huge pile of rock has accumulated about its mouth. If it were copperrock it would be worth a fortune; as it is, it is worse thanworthless, for it contains only disappointed hopes. And yet a pointdirectly beneath the ancient workings has been reached and passed. Isthe quest a vain one, after all? Is Peveril's as great a folly asDarrell's ever was? It would seem so; and the young proprietor's heartis heavy within him.

  He has just received the letter in which Mary Darrell declares theCopper Princess to be a worthless property. With it in his pocket hevisits the mouth of the shaft, intending to descend. As he approachesit, a skip containing several men comes to the surface. When theyemerge into daylight they are yelling in delirious excitement. One ofthem leaps out and runs towards him, shouting incoherently. It is MikeConnell.

  What had gone wrong? Has there been some terrible accidentunderground?

  "We've struck it, Mister Peril! We've struck the vein, and it's therichest ever knowed!" yells the Irishman. "Here's a specimen. Did everyou see the like? It's gold--nothing less! Hooray for us! Hooray forthe Princess! and hooray for Nell Trefethen, that'll be Mrs. MichaelConnell this day week, plaze God!"

  A few minutes later every cottage in the settlement holds specimens ofthe wonderful rock glistening with glowing metal. Every man ischeering himself hoarse. The great steam-whistle is shrieking out theglorious news, and Richard Peveril, with heavy pockets, is riding likemad in the direction of Red Jacket. The Copper Princess--a royal namefor a royal mine--has at last entered as a power the ranks of theworld's wealth-yielding properties.

  CHAPTER XXX

  PEVERIL ACQUIRES AN UNSHARED INTEREST

  An autumn evening two years later finds Richard Peveril seated in thesmoking-room of the University, the most thoroughly home-like andcomfortable of all New York clubs. He has dined alone, and now, with atiny cup of black coffee on the stand beside him, is reflectivelysmoking his after-dinner cigar.

  This is his first visit to the East since he left it, more than twoyears before, almost penniless and wellnigh friendless, on a searchfor a mine that he was assured would prove worthless when found. Todaythat same mine is yielding an enormous revenue, of which he receivesone-quarter, or a sum vastly in excess of his simple needs, for he isstill a bachelor, acting as manager of the Copper Princess, and stillmakes his home in the little mining settlement on the shore of thegreat Western lake.

  A fortune twice as large as his own, and derived from the same source,lies idle in the vaults of a trust company awaiting a claimant whocannot be found. Her name is Mary Darrell, and though from the veryfirst Peveril has guarded her interests more jealously than his own,and though he has made every effort to discover her, her fortune stillawaits its owner.

  He has not only been disappointed at the non-success of his efforts inthis direction, but is deeply hurt that the girl, who has been soconstantly in his thoughts during his two years of loneliness, shouldso persistently ignore him. That she has occupied so great a share ofhis time for thinking is due largely to the fact that there is no oneelse to take a like place, for Rose Bonnifay long since released himfrom his engagement to her, and he has contracted no other.

  As soon as he believed his _fiancee_ to be in New York, he wrote her along letter descriptive of his good-fortune and promising very soon torejoin her for the fulfilling of his engagement. To his amazement itwas promptly returned to him, endorsed on the outside in MissBonnifay's well-known handwriting.

  "As my last to you came back to me unopened, I now take pleasure in returning yours in the same condition."

  He immediately wrote again, only to have his second letter treated asthe first had been, except that this time it came to him without aword. From that day he had heard nothing further from Rose Bonnifay.

  Now business had called him to New York, and he had reached the citybut an hour before his appearance at the club. Here he gazed curiouslyabout him, as one long strange to such scenes, but who hopes todiscover the face of a friend in that of each new-comer. Thus far hehad not been successful, nor had he been recognized by any of the men,many of them in evening-dress, who came and went through the spaciousrooms. Peveril was also in evening-dress, for he had conceived a vagueidea of going to some theatre, or possibly to the opera. And now helistlessly glanced over the advertised list of attractions in anafternoon paper.

  While he was thus engaged, a young man, faultlessly apparelled andpleasing to look upon, stood in front of him, regarded him steadilyfor a moment, and then grasped his hand, exclaiming:

  "If it isn't old Dick Peveril--come to life again after an age ofburial! My dear fellow, I am awfully glad to see you. Where have youbeen, and what have you been doing all these years? Heard you had goneWest to look up a mine, but never a word since. Hope you found it andthat it turned out better than such properties generally do. Was itgold, silver, iron, or what?"

  "You may imagine its nature from its name," answered Peveril, who wasgenuinely glad to meet again his old college friend, Jack Langdon; "itis called the 'Copper Princess.'"

  "The 'Copper Princess'!" cried the other. "By Jove! you don't say so!Why, that mine is the talk of Wall Street, and if you own any part init, you must be a millionaire!"

  "Not quite that," laughed Peveril, "though I am not exactly what youmight call poor."

  "I should say not, and only wish I stood in your shoes; but, yousee--" Here Langdon plunged into a long account of his own affairs, towhich Peveril listened patiently. Finally the former said:

  "By the way, what have you on hand for to-night?"

  "Nothing in particular. Was thinking of going to some theatre."

  "Don't you do it! Beastly shows, all of them. Nothing but vaudevillenowadays. Come with me and I'll take you to a place where you will notonly have a pleasant time, but will meet old friends as well. Youremember old Owen?--'Dig' Owen, we used to call him."

  "Yes."

  "Well, he is here in New York, and has made a pot of money--no oneknows how. Shady speculations of some kind, and, between ourselves, itis liable to slip through his fingers at a
ny moment. But that'sneither here nor there. He married, about a year ago, a nice enoughgirl, who has apparently lived abroad all her life. Rather alight-weight, but entertains in great shape. Always has something goodon hand--generally music. They give a blow-out to-night, to which I amgoing to drop in for a while, and, of course, they will be delightedto see you. So don't utter a protest, but just come along."

  In accordance with the programme thus provided, Peveril found himselfan hour later entering the drawing-room of a spacious mansion on upperFifth Avenue. It was already so well filled that it was some timebefore the new-comers could approach their hostess.

  When they finally reached the place where she was talking and laughingwith a group of guests, her face was so averted that Peveril did notsee it until after Langdon had said:

  "Good-evening, Mrs. Owen. You have gathered together an awfully jollycrowd, and I have taken the liberty of adding another to their number.He is an old college friend of your husband's, and quite a lion justnow, for he is the owner of the famous Copper Princess that every oneis talking about. May I present him? Mrs. Owen, my friend Mr. RichardPeveril." With this Langdon stepped aside, and Peveril found himselfface to face with Rose Bonnifay.

  For an instant she was deadly pale. Then, with a supreme effort, sherecovered her self-possession, the blood rushed back to her cheeks,and, extending her hand with an engaging smile, she said:

  "This is indeed an unexpected pleasure, Mr. Peveril, and I am ever somuch obliged to Mr. Langdon for bringing you. Did he know, I wonder,that you were an old friend of mine, as well as of Mr. Owen's? No!Then the surprise is all the pleasanter. Oh! there is mamma, and shewill be delighted to meet you again. Mamma, dear, here is our oldfriend, Mr. Peveril. So pleased, and hope we shall see you often thiswinter."

  PEVERIL FINDS MARY AGAIN]

  Other newly arrived guests demanding Mrs. Owen's attention at thismoment, Peveril found himself borne away by her mother, who hadgreeted him effusively, and now seemed determined to learn everythingconcerning his Western life to its minutest details. To accomplishthis she led him to a corner of the conservatory for what she waspleased to term an uninterrupted talk of old times, but which reallymeant the propounding of a series of questions on her part and thegiving of evasive answers on his.

  While Peveril was wondering how he should escape, a hush fell on theouter assembly, and some one began to sing. At first sound of thevoice the young man started and listened attentively.

  "Who is she?" he asked.

  "Nobody in particular," responded Mrs. Bonnifay; "only a girl whomRose met when she was studying music in Germany. I fancy she spent herlast cent on her musical education, which, I fear, won't do her muchgood, after all; for, as you must notice, she is utterly lacking instyle. She is dreadfully poor now, and earns a living by singing inprivate houses--all her voice is really fit for, you know. So Rosetakes pity on her, and has her in once in a while. Why, really, theyare giving her an encore! How kind of them; and yet they say the mostwealthy are the most heartless. But you are not going, Mr. Peveril? Ihaven't asked you half--"

  Peveril was already out of the conservatory and making his way towardsthe piano, as though irresistibly fascinated. For her encore thesinger was giving a simple ballad that had been very popular someyears before. The last time Peveril heard it was when cruising along ashore of Lake Superior, and it had come to him from somewhere up inthe red-stained cliffs.

  At last he had found Mary Darrell--"his Mary," as he called her--inquick resentment of the smiling throng about him, who _paid_ her tosing for them.

  He did not speak to her then, nor allow her to see him, but when, withher task finished, she left the room, his eyes followed her everymovement and lingered lovingly on her beautiful face--for it wasbeautiful. He knew it now, as he also knew that he loved her, andalways had done so from the moment that he first beheld her, a visionof the cliffs.

  When, accompanied by faithful Aunty Nimmo, she left the house, he waswaiting outside. She tried to hurry away as he approached her, but atthe sound of his voice she stood still, trembling violently.

  An hour later, in the modest apartment far downtown, which was thebest her scanty earnings could afford, he had told his story. MaryDarrell knew that she was no longer a poor, struggling singer, but anheiress to wealth greater than she had ever coveted in her wildestdreams. But to this she gave hardly a thought, for something greater,finer, and more desirable than all the wealth of the world had come toher in that same brief space of time. She knew that she was loved byhim whom she loved, for he had told her so. Even now he stoodawaiting, with trembling eagerness, her answer to his plea.

  Could she not love him a little bit in return? Would she not go backwith him, as his wife, to the house that had been hers, and stillawaited her, by the shore of the great lake?

  "But I thought, Mr. Peveril--I mean, I heard that you were engaged?"

  "So I was. I was engaged to Mrs. Owen, at whose house you sang thisevening, and where I was so blessed as to find you. But she thought meunworthy and let me go. I know I am unworthy still; but, Mary dear,won't you give me one more chance? Won't you take me on trial?"

  "Well, then, on trial," she answered, though in so low a tone that hebarely caught the words.

  In another instant he had folded her in his arms, for he knew that shewas wholly his, and that in _this_ Copper Princess his interest wasunshared.

  * * * * *

  THE END

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  By S. R. KEIGHTLEY

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