The Furnace of Gold

by Philip Verrill Mighels

  CHAPTER XXXVIII

  BETH MAKES DEMANDS

  Beth Kent, while the camp was writing its feverish annals, hadundergone emotions in the whole varied order of the gamut. She hadfelt herself utterly deserted and utterly unhappy. She had hopedagainst hope that Van would come, that something might explain away hisbehavior, that she herself might have an opportunity of ascertainingwhat had occurred.

  One clew only was vouchsafed her puzzling mind: Searle had actuallygone to Glen at last, had been there at the hour of Van's arrival, andhad written Glen's letter to herself. Some encounter between the menhad doubtless transpired, she thought, and Van had been poisonedagainst her. What else could it mean, his coldness, his abruptdeparture, after all that had been, and his stubborn silence since?

  The letter from Glen had been wholly unsatisfactory. Bostwick hadwritten it, he said, at Glen's dictation. It echoed the phrases thatSearle himself had employed so persistently, many of them grosslymendacious, as Beth was sufficiently aware. Her effort had beenfutile, after all. She was not at all certain as to Glen's condition;she was wholly in the dark in all directions.

  On the day succeeding the reservation rush she received the news atMrs. Dick's, not only that Van had lost his claim, and that McCoppetand Searle were its latest owners, but also that Van had run amuck thatnight after leaving herself.

  Some vague, half-terrifying intuition that Searle was engaged in alawless, retaliatory enterprise crept athwart her mind and rendered herintensely uneasy. Her own considerable sum of money might even beinvolved in--she could not fathom what. Something that lay behind itall must doubtless explain Van's extraordinary change. It wasmaddening; she felt there must be _something_ she could do--there_must_ be something! She was not content to wait in utter helplessnessfor anything more to happen--anything more that served to wreck humanhappiness, if not very life itself!

  She felt, moreover, she had a right to know what it was affecting Van.He had come unbidden into her life. He had swept her away with hisriotous love. He had taught her new, almost frightening joys ofexistence. He had drawn upon her very soul--kissing into being anature demanding love for love. He had taken her all for himself,despite her real resistance. She could not cease to love so quickly ashe. She had rights, acquired in surrender--at least the right to knowwhat evil thing had wrought its way upon him.

  But fret as she might, and burn as she might, with impatience,love-created anger and resentment of some infamy, doubtless practicedon them both, there was nothing in the world she could do.

  She wrote again to Glen and had the letter posted in the mail. Sheasked for information. Was he better? Could he come to Goldite soon?Had he met Mr. Van? Had he understood that confession in her letter?Had he really purchased a mine, with Searle, or had he, by some strangemischance, concerned himself with the others in taking the "LaughingWater" claim?

  She explained that she was wholly in the dark, that worry was her onlycompanion. She begged him to come, if traveling were possible, andtold of her effort to see him.

  That Bostwick had opened and read her letter to Glen, suppressing thatfinal page, together with sundry questions and references to himself,she could never have dreamed. It is ignorance always that baffles, aswe grope our way in the world. And Beth had not yet entirely lost alltrust in Bostwick himself.

  Searle, in the meantime, having gone straight to the "Laughing Water"claim from Glenmore Kent, had remained three days away from Goldite andhad taken no time to write. When he came at last the girl's suspicionswere thoroughly aroused. That the man was a dangerous trickster, aliar, and perhaps a scoundrel she was rapidly becoming convinced.

  He arrived at the house in the late afternoon while Mrs. Dick and Bethwere engaged together in the dining-room, sewing at a quilt. Themeeting was therefore a quiet one and Beth escaped any lover-likedemonstrations he might otherwise have made.

  Mrs. Dick, in her frank dislike of Bostwick, finally carried her workupstairs.

  "Well, well, sweetheart!" Bostwick exclaimed. "You must have heard thenews, of course. I expect your congratulations!"

  He rose and approached her eagerly. She was standing. She moved achair and placed herself behind it.

  "I suppose you mean the claim you've--taken," she said. "You're elatedover that?"

  "Good Lord! aren't you?" he answered. "It's the biggest thing I'veever done! It's worth a million, maybe more--that 'Laughing Water'claim! And to think that Van Buren, the romantic fool, putting marbleslabs on the graves of the _demi-monde_, and riding about like a bigtin toreador, should have bought a property on reservation ground, andlost it, gold and all!"

  His relish in the triumph was fairly unctuous. His jaw seemed tooscillate in oil as he mouthed his contempt of the horseman.

  Beth flamed with resentment. Her love for Van increased despite herjudgment, despite her wish, as she heard him thus assailed. She knewhe had placed a stone on Queenie's grave. She admired the fearlessfriendliness of the action--the token whereby he had linked theunfortunate girl in death to the human family from which she hadsevered herself in life.

  Not to be goaded to indiscretion now she sat down as before with herwork.

  "And the money--yours and mine--did it go to assist in this unexpectedenterprise, and not to buy a claim with Glen?"

  "Certainly. No--no--not all of it--certainly not," he stammered,caught for a moment off his guard. "Some of my funds I used, ofcourse, in necessary ways. Don't you worry about your thirty thousand.You'll get it back a hundredfold, from your interest in the claim."

  She glanced up suddenly, startled by what he had said.

  "_My_ interest in the claim?"

  "Certainly, your interest. You didn't suppose I'd freeze you out, mylittle woman--my little wife--to be? You are one of the company, ofcourse. You'll be a director later on--and we'll clean up a fortune ina year!"

  She was exceedingly pale. What wonder Van had a grievance! He haddoubtless heard it all before he came that night to deliver Glen'sletter from Starlight. He might even have thought she had sent him toGlen to got him away from his claim.

  A thousand thoughts, that seemed to scorch like fire, went rocketingthrough her brain. The thing was too much to be understood at once--itwent too deep--it involved such possibilities. She must try to holdherself in check--try to be clever with this man.

  "Oh," she said, dropping her eyes to her work, "and Glen is in it too?"

  Bostwick was nervous. He sat down.

  "Well, yes--to some extent--a little slice of mine," he faltered."Naturally he has less than I've given to you."

  "But--didn't he discover the opportunity--the chance?"

  "Certainly not!" he declared vehemently. "It's all mydoing--everything! Wholly my idea from the start!" The impulse toboast, to vaunt his cleverness, was not to be resisted. "I told VanBuren the game had only begun! He thought himself so clever!"

  She clung to her point.

  "But--of course you told me Glen had found the chance, requiring sixtythousand dollars."

  "That was a different proposition--nothing to do with this. I'vedropped that game entirely. This is big enough for us all!"

  She looked the picture of unsophisticated innocence, sewing at a gaudysquare of cloth.

  "Did this affair also require the expenditure of sixty thousanddollars?"

  "No, of course not. Didn't I say so before?"

  "How much did it need--if I may ask?"

  Bostwick colored. He could not escape. He dared not even hint at thesum he had employed.

  "Oh, just the bare expenses of the survey--nothing much."

  "Then," she said, "if you don't mind returning my thirty thousanddollars, I think I'll relinquish my share."

  He rose hurriedly.

  "But I--but you--it won't be possible--just yet," he stammered. "Thisis perfectly absurd! I want you in--want you to retain your interest.There are certain development expenses--and--they can't be handledwithout considerable money."r />
  "Why not use your own? I much prefer to withdraw." She said itcalmly, and looked him in the eye.

  He avoided her glance, and paced up and down the room.

  "It can't be done!" he said. "I've pledged my support--our support--toget the claim on its feet."

  She grew calmer and colder.

  "Wasn't the claim already on its feet. I heard it was payingwell--that quite a lot of gold was seized when--when you and the otherstook the place."

  His impatience and uneasiness increased.

  "Oh, it was being worked--in a pickyune, primitive fashion. We'regoing at it right!"

  The color came and went in her face. She felt that the man hademployed her money, and could not repay it if he would. She pushed thepoint.

  "Of course, you'll remember I gave you the money to assist my brotherGlen. It was not to help secure or develop this other property. Imuch prefer not to invest my money this way. I shall have to requestits return."

  Bostwick was white.

  "Look here, Beth, is this some maudlin sentiment over that brigand, VanBuren? Is that what you mean?"

  She rose once more and confronted him angrily. It was not a mere girl,but a strong and resolute woman he was facing.

  "Mr. Bostwick," she said, "you haven't yet acquired the right to demandsuch a thing as that of me. For reasons of my own, maudlin orotherwise, I refuse to have my funds employed in the manner you say youmean to use them. I insist upon the immediate return to me of thirtythousand dollars."

  If rage at Van Buren consumed his blood, Bostwick's fear was a greateremotion. Before him he could plainly discern the abject failure of hisplans--the plan to marry this beautiful girl, the plan to go on withMcCoppet and snatch a fortune from the earth. It was not a time fordefiance. He must fence. He must yield as far as possible--till theclaim should make him independent. Of the tirade on his tongue againstVan Buren he dared not utter a word. His own affairs of love wouldserve no better.

  He summoned a smile to his ghastly lips and attempted to assume a calmdemeanor.

  "Very well," he said. "If that is the way you feel about your money, Iwill pay you back at once."

  "If you please," she said. "To-day."

  "But--the bank isn't open after three," he said in a species of panic."You can't be utterly unreasonable."

  "It was open much later when we were wiring New York some time ago,"she reminded him coldly. "I think you'll find it open to-night tillnine."

  "Well--perhaps I can arrange it, then," he said in desperation. "I'llget down there now and see what I can do."

  He took his hat and, glad to escape a further inquisition, maderemarkable haste from the house.

  Trembling with excitement, quivering on the verge of half-discoveredthings, flashes of intuition, fragments of deduction, Beth waited anhour for developments.

  Searle did not return. She had felt he would not. She was certain hermoney was gone.

  At dusk a messenger boy arrived with the briefest note, in Bostwick'sfamiliar hand.

  "Sudden, urgent call to the claim. No time for business. Back as soonas possible. With love and faith, yours, SEARLE."

  How she loathed his miserable lie!