Part 20 (2/2)
”I may resemble one,” he said, ”but here's the real thing. Here's my partner, Tall Ed Kelley.” He pulled Kelley by the arm. ”Ed, this is my mother--”
”Howdy, ma'am,” said Kelley, extending a timid hand.
”And this is my sister Florence.”
”Howdy, miss,” repeated Kelley.
Florence laughed as she shook hands. ”He says 'Howdy' just like the books.”
Kelley stiffened a bit. ”What should a feller say? Howdy's the word.”
”I told you she'd consider you part of the scenery,” put in Fred. ”Well, now, mother, we're going to take you right up to our mine. It's away on top of that hill--”
”Oh, glorious!” exclaimed Florence. ”And is it a real mine?”
”It is. But Kelley is boss, so I'm going to let him tell you all about it. He's the man that found it.”
Mrs. Morse looked up at the towering hill. ”How do we get there?”
”A trolley-car runs part way, and then--we'll take a cab. Come on,” he added, anxiously, for he could see some of his saloon friends edging near.
The trolley came down almost to the station, and in a few moments they were aboard with Kelley seated beside Florence and Mrs. Morse fondly clinging to her son, who seemed more boyish than ever to Kelley. The old trailer was mightily embarra.s.sed by his close contact with a sprightly girl. He had never known any one like her. She looked like the pictures in the magazines--same kind of hat, same kind of jacket and skirt--and she talked like a magazine story, too. Her face was small, her lips sweet, and her eyes big and bright.
She was chatty as a camp bird, and saw everything, and wanted to know about it. Why were there so many empty cabins? What was the meaning of all those rusty, ruined mills? Weren't there any gardens or gra.s.s?
”Why, you see, miss, the camp is an old busted camp. I'm working a lease--I mean, we are--”
”What do you mean by a lease?”
”Well, you see, a lot of men have got discouraged and quit, and went back East and offered their claims for lease on royalty, and I and another feller--and Fred--we took one of these and it happened to have ore in it.”
”How long has Fred been with you?--he never mentioned you in his letters.”
”Why, it's about a year since we took the lease.” Kelley began to grow hot under her keen eyes.
”Strange he never wrote of you. He seems very proud of you, too.”
Kelley looked out of the window. ”We get along first rate.”
The girl studied his fine profile attentively. ”I'm glad he fell in with a strong man like you--an experienced miner. He might have made a mistake and lost all his small fortune. My! but it's fine up here!
What's that wonderful snowy range off there?”
”That's the Sangre de Cristo Range.”
”Sangre de Cristo--Blood of Christ! Those old Spaniards had a lot of poetry in them, didn't they?”
”I reckon so--and a whole lot of stiffening, too. You go through the Southwest and see the country they trailed over--the hot, dry places and the quicksands and canons and all that. They sure made them Injuns remember when they pa.s.sed by.”
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