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DHNVKR Thk Gkeat Dividi: Puiu.ishinc; Company i8q4 Copyrighted i894, by Cy Warman, Denver, Colorado. \ ^1 THE SILVER QUEEN. I. Denver, March 15, 1892. My Dear Mr. Warman :^I notice by the papers that you are getting ready to start a daily in Creede. Your courage is worthy of all astonishment. Don't you know the gamblers there will shoot you full of holes, and per- haps spoil the only suit youVe got fit to be buried in, before your paper reaches the tenth number ? Whatever you do, wear your old clothes and keep your Sunday suit nice for emergencies. The boys will all chip in and give you a big funeral, but we have n't any of us got a spare coat fit to bury you in ; so take care of your Prince Albert and wear your corduroys till the (question is settled one way or the other, for if 4 THE SILVER QUEEN. anything should happen, it would mor- tify the boys to have to ))ury in his shirt-sleeves the only poet Colorado has produced. Well, you are in for it, I suppose, and nothing wiU stop you, and being in, there is nothing for it now but to "bear thyself so thine enemy may be- ware thee,'' or in other words, heel THE SlfA'Kli (JIKKX. yourself and face the* music like a man. Whatever else you do, don't show the white feather, for the honor of tln' press is in your keeping, and if you will immolate yourself, we expect you to die game and not with a ))ullet in your back. Don't worry one minute about the obituary notices. That will be all right. The boys will all see you through in good shape and the papers here will all turn rules and celebrate your virtues in such halting me- ter as can be mustered. But, seriously, what evil genius tempted you into the project of a daily in Creede, and whose money are you Idowing in ? >\ 6 THE SILVER QUEEN. If your ambition is to establish a reputation for courage — going into such a lair of hobos, gamblers and all-round toughs — most people will think it ab- surdly supei-fluous in a man — a western man at least — who makes no conceal- ment of the fact, in this fin de siecle era, that he perpetrates poetry and is willing to make his living by it — if he can. I have no wish to ditjcourage you, Cy, in your present heroic enterprise ; but I think, myself, it- is wholly un- necessary as an evidence of pluck, after all the poetry you have perpe- trated. Everybody knows that a poet — a western poet, especially — takes his life in his hands whenever he ap- proaches a publisher, as recklessly as the man who runs sheep onto a cow range. Of course, no western man would feel any compunction in killing a // THE SILVEH QUEEN. ■ i. poet, considering that whatever atten- tion they command in the East makes against our reputation out here for practical horse-sense and energy, and tends to make the underwriters and money-lenders suspicious and raise the rates of interest and insurance. I would n't hurt your feelings for the world, for I confess I like your poetry myself, but I chink you owe the sin- gular immunity you have eijoyed in Denver above other poets who have bit the dust or emigrated eastward, to the openly-expressed admiration and affection of Myron Reed and Jim Bel- ford and a few other reckless cranks who have intrenched themselves against '*the practical horse-sense" which is the pride of our people. As, instance : I happened into that gun-store in the Tabor Block yesterday to provide my- self with a jointed fishing-rod against v^ 8 THE SILVKU QVKKS. ^L, '•^PPt*,: .% wlmt time I should come down to your funeral — for they tell me the Up- l)er Rio (jrraiide swarms with trout, and I thought I might like to cast a fly, even so early, after see- ing you planted, and be- ing shown the spot where you fell. For I fancy some of those toujjhs whose hearts your in- spired verses had touched, commiserating my tears, would come to me and take me gently by the hand and lead me down to the cor- oner's office to show me the hole in the breast of your coat — for I never have done you the wrong to im{\gine the hole any- where hut in the breast where the re- morseless bullet tore its way to your brave heart. And then the tender- hearted tough, wiping his eyes with his sleeve^ should draw me away and lead -y>.- \ THK aiLVKIi Ql'KKN. me Ui» the strct't " to hco u iwrv it hap- pened," and tlmt he sIhuiUI hall at « certain spot in front of a great flourish- ing saloon and ganihling liall, where I slioukl catch a glinips(< through the windows, of })attered and frowzy girls in dirty, trailing calico "tea-gowns" and thin slippers, drinking at the Ijar with the clieaper class of the ganiblera or with ]»efuddled miners they were preparing to roh, and he should say : "Twas right here — right where Tni standin' — and poor Cy, h(i wuz goiir along and he avuz n't sayin' nothin' to nobody, 'u' I was stand in' right across the street tliere, in the door of Minnie Monroe's place, an' Min she wuz leanin' over my shoulder and we wuz both lookin' right across at the saloon where Soapy Smith wuz standin' in the door, readin' a newspaper out loud to Bob Ford an' a lot o' them low-down girls 10 THE SILVER QUEEN. i I that hangs around tliere after breakfast till they strike a treat ; au' at every ^vord Soaj>y he was rippin' out oaths an' shakin' his fist, an' Min. she says to me : 'Bill, there's a row on, les' go over and see what's up.' 'N' jest at that minute along comes 2)oor Cy — mindin' his own business 'n' sayin' nothin' to nobody— an' that's what I'll swear to 'foi'e the grand jury, mister, if I'm called, an' Min, she'll swear to the same thing. Nothin' would n't a' hap- pened, fur evei'ybody's l)ack wuz ttirned, only l(ir one o' them low- down trollops stuck her head out o' the door and s'ys, ' There's the , now,' and Bob Ford he looked over his shoulder 'n' s'ys, 'Sure 'nough Soapy, there goes your man. " Min an' me heard every word jest THE SILVER QUEEN. 11 as plain as a pin. Cy heard it, too, and he knowed wliat it meant. He wuz game — I'll say that fur him — 'n' faced about 'n' reached fur his gun quicker 'n' the jerk of a lamb's tail in fly time, but Soaj)y got there first, 'cause he'd rushed out with his gun cocked, and it wuz all day with poor Cy 'fore you could say Jack Robinson." "Reached for his gun?" (in imagi- nation I inquire doubtingl}^) — " then he was — " " Oh, yes, he was heeled. C}^ wuz n't no chump. He knowed he was takin' his life in his hands when he jumped that gang an' began to roast them in his paper. He knowed they'd lay fui' him an' do him up if they ever got the drop on him 'fore he could draw. But oh, say, if poor Cy had just had a show — or even haJf a show— would n't he shot the everlastin' stuffin' out o' • 1 12 THE SILVER QUEEN. that crowd quic^ r 'n' a cat could lick her ear ! That's what he would, mis- ter, fur he was game an' he could handle a gun beautiful. But" (in my fancy your worthy tough always draws his sleeve across his face at this junctu/e) " I suppose it had to be — prob'ly it was God'l Mighty 's will. Tliere's the pole over yander front o' Min's place we strung _^r- Soapy and Bob to, an' there wuz n't no in- quest on Jte?n — not, much there wuz n't, for the coroner himself helped at the lynchin' — everyhody helped 'ceptin' that pigeon- livered cad of a preacher, to deliver a lecture to the crowd on tht> majesty of the law an' that kind ()' thinff, l)ut he c:ot left on his little ^T'-'SJc?, ' He wanted 77//!,' SILVER QUKES. 13 game that time. Oh, lie's too slow for this camp, mister. The preacher that can't keep up with the band wagon, ain't got no business monkey in' around a live mini.ig camp like Creede." But bless my stars, hjw my anxiety for you has drawn me into digression ? I started to tell you what happened at the gun -store. You know it's a place where some clever men drop in and lounge a bit and swap sporting stories and smoke a friendly cigar. I heard some one call me to the rear, and going back, I found Belford and their reverences, Tom Uzzell and My- ron Eeed — God bless their manly souls — and one or two othei's I did not know. And your friend, the Reverend Myron, was reading aloud to the crowd that fanciful little jingle you had in yes- terday's Time.^ about the beautiful but II 14 THE SILVEIt QUEEN, willful maid who wandered d to OV»^Il snatched the shore of sin and got back by some compunctious Joseph be- fore the undertow caught her, or Ian- to that •al effect : — for guage me, I have n't been able to read it myself and cannot recall a line of it although I recognized it as a gem. Well, you could see the little crowd was being affected, for Mr. Keed was delivering it with exquisite feeling, and when he had finished, there was a general glance of admiration all round ; and Mr. Uzzell remarked that there was a fine sermon — I think, on reflection, that he said a fine, strong sermon — in the verses ; and your fi'iend Reed smiled. Then Belford, in a characteristic burst of rhetoric, declared that *' The Muses must have kissed in his cradle, the fellow who wrote those lines. iy And your THE SILVER QUEEN. 15 friend, the Kevereiid Myron, smiled out loud, and Belford glanced around the crowd for approval. I should n't consider that fraternal magnanimity re(piired \\\v to repeat these flattering expressions t'^ you, Cy, only that I feel your doom draws nigh. It is borne in upon me with all the psychic force of a prophecy that you are fated to perish ])y the ignominious hand of our owji and only Soapy, if you persist in starting that daily. You can't run a daily without saying soihething, and you can't say anything that ought to be said without giving mortal offense to the toughs who are running tliat camp, and you can't give offense to them without gett'ng shot. It is an ancient saying that "a word to the wise is suiRcient" ; but it were better to say, as experience proves, that a word to ir, THE SILVKlt QVEEN. I '' the wise is generally superfluous. Be wise, Cyrus, in your day and generation. Seek fame in other fields. Open a boarding-house or an undertakei'^s shop, or })oth. This will give you a chance to study human nature in all its phases. It is the school for a poet and philoso- pher. Don't miss the opportunity. Don't waste your promising young life writing poetry or running a, daily paper to reform the morals of a raining camp. Either is sure to bring you to an igno- minious grave. But if, in spite of my prayers and tears, you will persist, send me your paper. I shall have a curi- osity to see what sort of a stagger you make at moulding the protoplasm of public opiiiion into a cellular structure of moral impulse. Send me the paper, sure. So-long. God protect you. Always, Fitz-Mac. 77/ f; SILVER or A' AW. 17 p. »9.— Now, may confusion take my muddled brains, but 1 have overlooked tlie very thing I started to write you about. The inclosed letter of introduction will make you acquainted with Misf* Polly Parsons, a young girl whom I have known from chihlhood, and in whose welfare I take a serious interest. She is a bright and beautiful girl— and a thor- oughly good girl, let me remark— and I want her to know you and ^^el that she has a friend in you on whom she can call for counsel and protection if need be. She is under the necessity, not only of mak- ing her own living, but of contributing to tiie support of her father's family. Her moiher and little brother are here, living in two rooms, but her father is in Chicago. I knew the family there years ago when (hey were very rich, and surrounded by every luxury— fine homo on Michigan avenue, carriages and footman and all that. But Parsons went broke a few years ago on grain speculations, and the worst of it is, he lost his courage with his money and is now a broken-spirited man, doing the leg work for brokers and leaving his family to shift for themselves, or pretty nearly so. I suppose it is really impossible for the poor fellow to help (hem very much or he would, for he loved his wife and children. Polly had every advantag^e IS TUK SlIAUli Ijl KKN. Mi that money coiiUl purclmse till the old man failed, and she is tlnely educated. She is a girl of great courage and has an auibitioii to make a business woman of herself and help her father onto his feet again. She has some ol his genius for bold, speculative action, and has taken up stenography and typewriting— not as au end but only as a means. I am very much afraid she has made a se- rious misstep in going to Creede and that she will get herself hopelessly compromised before she is done with it. She has gone down with that Sure Thing Mining Company outfit and I suspect they are a bad lot; but some of them knew her father in the past, and thus gained her confidence. She is too prefty a girl and too inexperienced to be exposed to the associations of a mining camp like Creede, where there are so few decent women, without great danger. She has got cour- age and an earnest purpose, and those qualities are a woman's best safeguard; but still, she is only a girl of nineteen or twenty and she does n't realize what a delicate thing a woman's reputa- tion is. It was sheer recklessness for her to go down there; but I didn't know it till after she was off. Her mother got anxious after she had let her go and came to see me about it. I be- lieve—without positively knowing— that the r ■■ TUK SlLVKIt (JIKKS. W) outfit she has goiiu to nro right-down Bcniiips. They seem to have plenty of money and they have opened a grand office liere, but tliey strilte me as l)ad eggs. A very suspicious circumstance in regard to their motives toward her— to my mind at least— is that they have promised lier a salary of two hundreu and fifty dollars a month. That is -—.^ simply prepos- J^ ^^ | i. terous. (You know that they can get an army of competent ste- nographers and typewriters at one hundred dol- lars a month, or eve]) less.) I don't like the looks of it a bit. I suspect they — or one of them— have designs against the girl. She is honest to the core, and they will never accomplish her ruin— if that is what they mean. But of course, you must understand, I nm only voicing a suspicion, and a very uncharitable one at that; but the odor of the outfit is bad, and they may compromise her hopelessly before she gets her eyes open, and ppoll her life. I want you to hunt her up and keep an eye on -f^*---^^ -^aJK i! 20 TIIK SILVKU QVKKN. t f !:■ ] licr, and put youi-Holf on a square footing with her, so that 8ho will have contidcnce in you. Above all things, see that she has a boarding place where there is some respe'itaole married woman, and give her a talking to about the camp that will open her eyes. She will take care of herself all right if she is once put on her guard. I want you to understand she is no pick-up for any rake to tritle with; but a woman is a woman— you know that, Cy, as well as I do — and youth is youth. She is a good telegraphei — unusually good, I imngine. I mention this so that you may get her employment if that job she has gone to looks at all scaly, and likely to compromise her. She has great force of character— her father's temperament before he broke down— and she has taken up all these things to fit herself for that business career to which she aspires. Don't be deceived by her suave and amiable manner into thinking her a weakling, for she has got immense force of character, and she perfectly believes she is going to have a business career. I have told her in the letter that you are engaged to the nicest girl in Denver, so as ^3 put you on a confidential footing, and head oft your falling in love with her yourself. Be a brother to her, Cy, and keep her out of trouble. TIIK SlLVKli Ql'KKS. n God knows you are wicked enougli yourself to scent wickedness from afar and see any danger in the path of au attractive girl witliout expe- rience. Look her up at once— a« oncf, mind you —and let me have a good account of yourself as soon as possible. Affectionately, Fitz-Mac. - II. CuKEDE, C(»lo., March 17, 1802. To Fitz-Mac, Denver, Colo. My Deal' Fltz : — Your letter came here yesterday along with the circulars sent ])y those peddlers of printing presses and printer's ink, hut I have been so busy getting things in shape to start the Chronicle^ that there lias been little time to look after the l)eautiful creature of whom vou write. Thou- sands of stenographers have gone from home to take positions where the pay was better, and no great harm has re- sulted, and why you have become so thoroughly alarmed over the young lady, •«-> ■r^s: OQ TIIK SILVER QUKKff. I am unal)le to understand. If, as your letter would indicate, nlie haw lived all her life in Chicago, hIic \h perfectly Hafe in Creed e. I went to the station, or rather to the plac(^ where the train Htoi)a, this morning, ])ut saw no one who would answer the description of your young lady. Of the three hundred passen- gers, not more than ten were women, and very ordinary looking women . at that. I know that I could find your friend if she is in the camp, by turning your letter over to Hartigan, the city editor, but he is a handsome young Irishman who (piotes poetry by the mile, and the fact that he has a wife in Denver would not prevent him from opening a flirtation at the first meeting. No, she is better off with the smooth young man than with Hartigan. Tabor, TIIK SIlA'KIi Ql'KKS, 2:\ who is to be the h)cal iimii, is single, hut litth^ better th-in the eity e«lit«»r. He is very Husceptible an: N"N 24 THE SILVER QUEEN. n ! 4 i I I paid ji salaiy instead of a commission. However, tlierci may l)e a Sure Thing Mining Company, and it may he all right ; but I hav(» failed so far to learn anything about it. The camp continues to boom. One of the fraternity shot a thuml) off tlu? hand of a fellow sport at Bannigan's last night. I liave not taken in the town yet, although the temptation has l)een very great. Both the rival theaters have tendered me a box, and assured me that I ^vonld not be "worked." Until now, I never knew what an imj)orta])t personage tlie editor of a morning paper was. Tlie citv marshal called at the office yes- tei'day with a half dozen l>ottles of beer, wdiich he gave to Freckled Jimmie, the devil, with THE SILVER QUEEN. *J0 the explanation that he understood that the editor was a Democrat. I have made a good impression on society here, I think. The first man I was introduced to when I stepped from the trairi, was Bob Ford, wlio, in con- nection with the Governor of Missoui'i, removed Jesse J^unes some ten years ago. (He is a pale, sallow fellow with a honnted look, and he is always nervous when his back is to the door.) Fitz, there is a great deal of wicked- ness in this world, and in a mining camp they make no attempt at hiding it. If I Avere not very busy, I should be very unliap])y here. From morning till night and fi'om night until morn- ing, the ceaseless tramp, tramp, on wooden walks of the comers and goers is painfully monotonous. Once in a while a pistol-shot echo'*s in the canon, 26 THE SILVER QUEEN. M and the saddest thing is that it is so common that the players scarcely turn from the tables to see who has fallen in the fight. And men move on, and give no heed To life or death, — and this is Creede. By-and-l)y it will be different. When we have a city government, crime will be punished. The gambling and other disreputable resorts will be confined to their own quarter, and Creede will become the greatest silver camp on earth. After j^aying one thousand dollars on our building and as much on our press and outfit, we had one thousand two hundred and fifty dollars to our credit. This morning's mail brought a let- ter from Mr. Sanders inclosing a Last Chance check for five hundred dol- lars. The same • mail brought D. H. i i! THE SILVER i^UEEN. 27 M/s check for two hundred and fifty dollars with the request that I accept it with his compliments, but he would have no stock. Now these people are all Republicans, and they know that I will run a Democratic paper. In the language of the songster, "That is love." I want to say that you do my friend Smith a great injustice, when, in your day-dream, you make him my slayer. He is my personal body-guard. He is also a bitter enemy of Ford's. Mark you, these men will meet some day — I say some day^ for it's never night in Creede, — and whether he do kill Sapolio or Sapolio do kill him, or both, — especially the latter, — the incident will render my position all the more secure. When Go\ernor Routt was here working the shells on the Smart i;]' 28 THE SILVER QUEEN. M i' • Alecks who came to camp to buy corner lots cheap, I bought a lot on the shores of the West Willow. The selvage of my property was swept by the rushing waters of the busy little brook ; and I gave it out that I wanted that particular lot to have water- j^ower for ray press. Of course, all were anxious to aid in the establishment of a morning paper, and the lot came to me at three huiidred dollars, the minimum price, which is juF: rate, by the = _ .^=^ name of Stree- ^.^7,r^.. ^.-^r^-^^:-'... py^ built a house over the river and turned the stream through my lot, so now all I own is the river. ti THE SILVER QUEEN. l>t) lii closing, let me assure you that I will do all ill my power to locate the young woman, and advise you. Yours truly, Cy Warman. III. Denvek, March 20, 1802. My Dear Warm an :— Yours of the 17th, after some unaccounted-for delay, has hut just reached me. Pei-haps your gifted postmistress had not time to read it at once, and so held it over till leisure should serve her curiosity ; or she may have found unexpected dif- R' liculty in deciphering your % ingeniously atrocious writ- ing, which I can imagine would only in- crease the curiosity of a gifted woman. I once lived where the postmaster, a man of intellectual inclinations, was If do THE SILVKli QUEEN. il ■ $ 1" very slow at reading manuscript, being obliged to spell out the words labori- ously, and I found the delay occasioned by the interest he took in studying my epistolary style, to improve his mind, a great annoyance. But a bright thought struck me one day, and I employed a typewriter. After that there was but little delay, for he could read j^rint very well. I offer you the value of this experience, not at all on my account, for I can generally manage to make out what you are writing about pretty closely, but to promote expedition in mail service. It occurs to me to men- tion, however, en passant^ that if you fail in that newspaper enterprise, you still have a bright career for your pen before you in the Orient, marking tea- chests. Do not imagine that I am complaining when I say that your friends would find more time to love THE SlLVEIi QVKKN. 31 you if you would ciiiploy ji tyimwiitcr. But all this is neither here nor there. I am in despair at the devil -may care tone in which you write about Miss Parsons, and I am really alarmed about her not having arrived. She certainly could not have had much money by her to make a leisurely trip of it, stopping off to see the towns and the scenery en route. Her mother was in a few moments ago, and not having heard from her, is naturally anxious, but I affected to consider it nothing. As a matter of fact, I regard it as very strange and alarming, considering that she left Denver with a man I strongly sus- pect is a scamp, and if the Sure Thing Mining Company has no office there, the worst is to be feared. It looks very bad. My hope is, that in your indif- :V2 THE SlIA'Kli IJVKKS. feniiUM^ to my roqueHt, not a[)[)reciat- iiig the BcrioiisiU'SH of the cawc, you luive not h)okcd around. I Hup[)ose it is a matter of no little trou])le to find any one, unless you happen upon him, in such a mad rush as has set in for Creede. I met Whitehead of the JVews^ who is just hack from there, and he says tliat ■^^ not only are the plat- forms even of the cars crowded, l)ut men act- ually ride on top from Alamosa over, in the craze to get there. How can such a rush of people he housed and fed in a camp that contained but five little cabins ninety days ago ! But it is all grist for your mill, of course. Now, can I make you understand the seriousness of this case ? You cer- What insanity ! m. THE SI I A' Eli QIEEN. 33 tainly know how easy it is for a vil- lain to coniproniiso a young and pretty girl like Miss Parsons in a plate like Creede, and you know that a young girl compromised is already half ruined. As I have said, Polly is a pure-minded, honest girl of great force of character. I consider her taking up and mastering shorthand and typewriting and tele- graphing, sufficient evidence of that ; but she is inexperienced and unsus[)i- cious, and may find herself undone be- fore she realizes her danger. Besides, that fellow Ketchum is a handsome, unscrupulous man, with an oily tongue in his head. I have to go to Chicago to-night and I shall be absent two or three weeks, otherwise I would run down to Creede myself — so great is my anxiety al)out this girl, whom I have known from her cradle. 11' d4 mK NILVKIt QIKEN. I must leaver the matter in your hands — if I can only make you look at it seriously. Her mother's address is No. 17{)(> California street — Mrs. Ma- tilda Parsons. Communicate! with her if necessary. I have told her about writing to you, etc. Probably, while in Chicago, I shall be able to look up her father and will talk with him about the matter. Now please take up this matter seriously and oblige me forever. Au revolt'^ and good luck to you with the paper. Fitz-Mac. ili M IV. Creede, Colo., March 25, '92. My Dear Fitz : — Since receiving your second letter, I have left nothing undone in the way of keeping a con- stant lookout for Miss Parsons, for T THE SILVKIi QrEKN. 35 see how tcrriVily in eariK'st yoii are. VcHterday I took dinner at a little res- taurant in Upper Creede, and when the girl came to take my order nhe almost took my breath. There was something about her that told me that she was new at the business ; and I began to be hopeful that she might be the young lady for whom I had been looking the past week. When rest had left the table, I as for a second cup of coffee, and when she brought it, I made an* at- tempt to engage the girl in conversa- tion. " You are very busy here," T said. " Yes," she answered, with a slight ki 'Mi rilK SIlA'Klt (JI'tCtJN. i'i:;!! laJHc of tlu; (*yt*!)i(>\VM, hikI juHt a hint of a Hiuil(> phiyiiig round her mouth. "I prt'sunic you get very tired by cloning time," I ventured. *' We n(^ver close," she said ; and again I noticed the same movement of the eyes. I knew she thought I was endeavor- ing to build lip an ac({uaintanoe, and it annoyed me. If tlien^ is one tiling I dislike, it is to be taken for a masher when I am not trying to mash. " Have n't I seen you in Denver V " Perhaps." "Have n't I seen you with Mr. Ketch- urn ?" "Perhaps." " Do you know Mr. Ketchum ?" I asked with some embarrassment. " Do you ?" "Well, not very intimately," was my THE SILVKH Ql-KKS. 37 somewhat uncertain reply. *' Is he in town ?" The girl laughtnl in real earnest. When she did compost' liernelf, she asked, '' Are you a reporter for the m-w paper ? " I told her I was not, and then I asked her if she could tell me where Mr. Ketch u.d's office was. It was down the street near the Holy Moses saloon, she said ; and I congratu- lated myself upon having gotten a straight and lucid reply from her. *' Is he in town ? " was my next question. "He was at this table when you came in. Don't you know him ? " " Not very well," said I. "Then how do you know you saw me with Mr. Ketchum ? " , I said he must have changed. "No," said the girl, showing some > ! %r 38 THE SILVER QUEEN. spunk. "You don't know him. You never saw liim ; but you are trying to be funny. Your name is Lon Harti- gan, and I am dead onto you." " O, break ! — l)reak away ! " said a chemical blonde, as she swept in from the kitchen, coming to the res- cue of her "partner," as she called her. " The girls from the Beebee put us onto you and that fel- low from New York. You can't come none of your monkey doodle bus- iness here. Mr. Ketchum is the nicest man 'at eats here and he always leaves a dollar under his plate." And the drug-store blonde snapped her fingei's under my nose, whirled on her heel, and banging a soiled towel into a barrel that stood by the door leading to the kitchen, she swept from the room. THE SILVER QUEEN. \\\) "Will you hvuv^ me some hot cof- fee ?'' I said, softly, to the girl with her own hair. '' You misjudge me," I began, as she set it down. "I am sorry," she replied with a hemi-smile that hinted of sympathy, but is worse than no sympathy. " Now, see here," I began, " Fll tell you my name if you'll tell me yours. My name is Warman." "My name is Boyd— Inez Boyd," said the girl, "and I am sorry to have talked as I have, to you." "Don't mention it," said I, as I left the room. Outside I saw a sign which read : "The Sure Thing Mining and Milling Company, Capital Stock, $1,000,000." The next moment I stood in the outer office, saw a sign on a closed door: " F. I. Kctchum— Private." I (I 40 THE SILVER QUEEN. 11 iiil I opened a little wooden gate, stepped to the private entrance and knocked. A tall, good-looking man of thirty-five to forty, with soft gray hair, came out and closed the door fpiickly. ''Is this Mr. Kctchtim?" I asked. " Yes sir, what can I do for you ?" Now that was a sticker. It had not occurred to me that to call a man out of his private office one ought to have some business. " I'm the editor of the Chronicle and I just dropped in to get acquainted. I have heard of your company." The man looked l)lack. " We are not looking for newspaper notoriety," he said, without offering me a seat. In short, he did n't rave over me, as some THE SlLVKli QVKKS. 41 of the real estate men did, and after asking how tlie property of the com- pany was looking, I w^ent away. Poor as I am, I would have given twenty to have seen into the "Private" room. I write all this in detail, that you may know how hard I have tried to do my duty to yon as a fi'iend, and to the poor unfortunate girl, as a man. I shall have more time from now on, as I have for my superintendent and gen- eral master mechanic, Mr. J. D. Vaug- han, who can make a newspaper, from the writing of the editorial page, to the mailing list. In the past, as now, he has always been with distinguished men. He was with Artemus Ward at Cleveland, Wallace Gruelle, at Louis- ville, Bartley Campbell, at New Or- leans, Will L. Visscher when he ran the "Headlight," on board the steamer Richmond running between Louisville n 42 THE SILVER QUEEN. and New Orleans, and with Field and Kothaker on the Denver Trihune. We got out our first issue Monday, and I feel a great deal better. It has been the dream of my life to have a daily })aper, and we have got one now ^^ that is all wool and as wide as the press will print. I have this line un- der the headir.g : "Politics: Free Coinage; Religion : Creede." I think that line will last. It is what we must live for and hojie for. Of course, we expect to lose money for a few months ; but if the camp continues to grow, the Chronicle Puldishing Company will be a good venture. There are many hard- ships to be endured in a mining-camp. The printers had to stand in an un- covered house and set t}'pe while the THK SILVER QUEK?f. 43 snow drifted around tlicir oolLars. They held a meeting in the rear office Sun- day, organized a printers' unif)n, fixed a schedule to suit themselves — fifty cents a thousand ; and, in order that I might not feel lonely, I was made an honorary member of the union. Mr. George W. Ohilds was taken ^ in at the same time. My salary is to be fifty dollars a week ; but I don't intend to draw my sal- ary until the paper is on a pay- ing basis. We have not got our motor in place yet, and I had to pa}- two Mexicans twelve dollars for turning the press the first night. Coal is ten dollars a ton ; coal oil sixty cents a gallon. AVe use a ton of coal every twenty-four hours and five gallons of oil every night. It was a novel sight to see the newsboys running here and there thi'ough the II i 44 THE SILVER QUEEN. willowH, climbing up the steep sides of the gulch to the tents and cabins cry- ing "Morning Chronicle!^'' where the mountain lion and the grizzly bear had their homes but six months ajjo. The interesting feature in the first issue is a three - column account of Gambler Joe Sim- mons' funeral. It tells how the gang stood at the grave and di'ank " To Joe's soul over there — if there is any over there." Yours always, Cy Warman. IV. Creede, Colo., March 28, 1802. Dear Fitz : — Three days ago I wrote you that I had located Mr. Ketchum but failed to find the girl. Yesterday being Sunday, I went down to the hot springs at Wagon Wheel THE SILVKli Qi'EKN. 45 Gap to Rpeiid the day. At ilw hotel I met Mrs. McClelaiid, of Alamosa, and while we were conversing, a lady commenced to sing in the parlor. The soft notes that came from the })iano mingled with a voice so full of soulful melody, that I stopped talking and listened. "Do you like music ?" asked the good lady from the San Luis. " There is but one thing sweeter," I said, " and that is poetry — the music of the soul. Take me in, won't you ?" We entered so softly that the young woman at the piano failed to notice our coming, and sang on to the end of the piece. " La Paloma ! " How different from the strains I had heard during the past I 46 THE SILVER QUEEN. week, from tlie Umpali band in front of tlie Olympic Theater. When .she hrd finislied, the singer turned, ])lu8hed, and rising, advanced toward my friend, hoUling out her hand ; and I was suiprised and pleased to hear Mrs. Mc. say : "Well, I want to know — are you here ? " The young lady ac- • knowledged that she was, and went into a long ex- planation that she had concluded to stop at the sj)rings until matters \vere in a little better shape at Creede. " Where is Mr. , Mr. ," stam- mered Mrs. Mc. " Oh, he's in Creede,'.' said the young lady, as she shot a glance at me which was followed by a becoming Idush. " He is so busy at the mines ; they -^^ THE SllA'Kli (JIKKN. 47 i work a great many men, you know/' All this time I had hceii lookini' over Mrs. McCleland's shoulder into an exceedingly bright and interesting face. "Oh, I beg your pardon," said the good lady, " this is Mr. Warman, Miss Parsons." I don't know for the life of me, whether I said "Howdy," or "Good-by," I was dazed. I had for- gotten the while I looked into that beautiful face, that such a person lived as Polly Parsons, and when it came to me all at once like the firing of a blast, it took the wind out of my sails and left me helpless in mid-ocean. *' Where did you meet Miss Par- 48 TIIK SIlA'Kli IJl HKS. ^ Honn ? " I iiHked, wlu»n tlio young lady had left the room. " At AlaiiioHa, some two wecks^ ago, Hhe 8toi)ped at our hotel, and I did n't like the looks of the man she was witli ; 8o I asked her to sleep in a spare room just off from my own. " I heard him trying to persuade her to go to Creede witli him the next day, but could not understand what her argument was, except that she would not go to Creede until there was something for her to do." " Who was this man ? " I asked. " His name is Ketchuni ; he is con- nected with the Sure Thing Mining Company." " At last ! " I said with a sigh that was really a relief to me. After luncheon, I gave the letter you sent, to Miss Parsons, and I watched her face while she read it. 'li TIIK S.'LVKli IJIKKS. 49 Of one of two tliiiiL'M I am con- vinccd ; citlirr she loves you and was glad U> set! tliat It'ttcr, or she hates you and will do as much for me. That is as near as you can guess a pretty woman. " If there's anythini^ I can do for you, Miss Parsons — " '' O, I am quite capable of getting along alone," sIk^ said. "I thank you, of c(>urse? but there is nothinijr ; I am promised a good position in Mr. Ketchum's office as soon as they get things in shape. I have some ready money with me, enough to pay my expenses at the hotel." " You will not find so pleasant a hotel in Creede as this, Miss Parsons. The Pattons are nice people, and it m 50 THE SILVKtt (Jl'KKX. m would ]h) bettor, I think, for you to rcnuiin Ikto until a position is open for you,'' I ventured })y way of advice. " Mr. Ketidiuni has (engaged a room for me over th(i Albany Restaurant,'' she said, " and he is to call here for me to-morrow." *'But, Miss Parsons," said I, "do you know what sort of a place that is ? " " I know, sir, that Mr. Ketchum would not take me to an improper place," and she gave her head a twist that told me that my advice was not wanted. " I beg your pardon, Miss Parsons," said I, by way of explanation ; " I was thinking of the Albany Theater build- ing ; the restaurant may be all right. But I was thinking only of your wel- fare." "Thank you," she said, but she meant " Don't trouble yourself." *u III THE SILVKn (jL'KJuN. 51 "Goo V n: 25th and 28th ult., forwarded from Denver, were received here only this morning on my return from Milwaukee, whei'e I have been for the past week negotiating the sale of that Eagle Gulch mining property, in which I am inter- ested. I think it will be a go, and if so, I shall be heeled — otherwise busted. It was very good of you, old boy, to take so much trouble to look Miss Parsons up and to "locate" that scamp Ketchum. I shall not be anxious, now that I know you will keep an eye on her. But you are clear off, Cy, as to her loving or hating me. No doubt she likes me a little bit, for I have long been a friend of the family ; and they were always kind to me when they were rich, and I have carried pretty Polly around in my arms when she was a baby. I knew her father back in Virginia before they were mar ried. THE SILVER QUEEN. 53 Pretty ? I should think she is pretty. That is why I felt so particularly anxious about her going to Creede. If she had been a ewe-necked old scrub of a typewriter, w^ith a peaked nose and a pair of gooseberry eyes in her head, do you fancy I could have been solicitous about her not being able to take care of herself or have dreamt of interesting you in her ? Cyrus, my princely buck, if there was any *' peculiar light" in pretty Polly's eyes, it was admiration for your manly figure. You are too modest to ever do yourself justice. I am glad you found Ketchum and the Sure Thing Mining Company. I had to laugh at the mystery you make of that back room into which you were not permitted to peep. No doul)t he was working some pilgrim in there to whom he expected to sell '}] > rl ' 54 THE SILVER QUEEN. stock, and did not want to be inter- ru[)ted. I met a broker the other day who knew him well here. He is a scamp as I thought ; but not exactly the kind of scamp I thought. He has had a career on the Exchange here and was once a heavy operator and made big money, but his reputation was never first-class and it has become decidedly odorous of late years through his con- nection with snide stock schemes of one kind and another. But he has kept out of jail and is n't a person a man can exactly refuse to speak to. He worked a Napoleonic confidence deal in grain here, some five or six years back, and came within an ace of cleaning up a million or more on it ; but the fraud was discovered and the bu])ble exploded, leaving him beggared both in fortune and reputation. He ill THE SILVER QUEEN. ir,y had tangled a lot of respectable oper- ators up in the scheme, so that it did not look so very bad for him person- ally, and he escaped prosecution. Since then he has figured as a promoter, keeping himself in the shade. Parsons, Polly's father, was the man who discovered and defeated his fraud ; and the story goes here, that in re- venge, he set the trap into which Par- sons fell and lost all except his honor. Parsons has a good name here still, I find, among the brokers, because he made an honest settlement, although it left him penniless and broken-spirited. It is strange that he has n't come to see me. I tried to find him when I first but he was always somewhere came else, and when I went to Milwakee, I left a note for him, but have heard nothing. I shall try to see him be- fore I leave. I>;- Ml! 56 m I THE SILVER QUEEN. M ,1 "1 : i I find Ketchuiu has a wife aud some children here, and that he does n't fig- ure as a Lothario at all as I suspected. On the contrary, he is quite a model in his domestic relations — takes his family to church and all that, and is a shining light in the Sunday-school and the Y. M. C. A. So I fancy our pretty Polly is in no great danger from him. It is singular though, why he should have engaged the daughter of a man whom he must hate, as his confidential clerk — and at such a preposterous salary, too. It is suspicious ; but after all, it may be a freak of kindness, finding the man whose ruin he has planned so destitute. It is just as safe to take the charitable view as a^iy, even of a scamp. Human motives are always mixed. I cannot say when I will be at home ; but write often, directing to THE SILVER QUEEN. 57 Denver, and keep a brotherly eye on our pretty Polly. Yours, Fitz-Mac. VI. Grand Pacific Hotel, Chicago, April 9, 9 o'clock P. M. Dear Warman : — I must write in great haste, for in an hour I leave for New York. It is quite unexpected. I expect the Milwaukee party here in a quarter of an hour to go with me. In all probability I shall not be back to Denver before the first of May, if then, — for, being in New York, I shall probably stop and attend to some other matters. I wrote you last night, and now I want to correct the impressions of that letter. When does one ever hear the last word of a bad story. That fellow Ketch urn II '!l m 68 rUK SIlA'Kli Qf'KKN. is even more of an all-round scoundrel than I thought. I have heard a lot al)()ut him to-day ; ran upon a man who was his head book-keeper and confidential man here in his heyday, and whom he rohbed, as he has every- body else Avho has had anything to do with him. I was out looking up Par- sons among the brokers' offices. He has been a sort of fly-about these last years, into this, that, and every little pitiful scheme, to turn a dollar, and having a desk always in the office of the latest man he could interest in his projects , so he is about as hard to find as the proverbial needle in the hay-mow. Nobody is specially interested in keeping track of him, now that he is down. Well, in my hunt, I ran upon a Mr. Filmore who told me where he boards — a cheap and shal)by place, poor fel- rriK SILVER QVKKN. 59 low. He was not there ; has n't been for two weeks or more. Landlady sur- mised he had gone to join his family somewhere out West — in California, she guessed— did n't know when he would be back ; did n't know that he would ever be back. Oh, yes, she supposed he would be back some time, — no, he had n't left any address to have his mail forwarded. The purveyor of hash sujiposed Mr. Parsons received his mail ■ M ]i 60 THE SILVER QVEKS. ■ill at Lis office — he certainly did not re- ceive any there. Was I a detective ? Had Mr. Parsons been getting into trouble ? Oh, Cy, the miserj'^ of being very ])oor after having been very rich ! The Lord deliver me from it ! Poor Parsons, one of the finest and proudest of gentlemen, to be spoken of in such a tenor at the street door of a cheap boarding-house ! Is it any wonder his brave, good little girl is frantic to do something to help him onto his feet again and out of such an atmosphere ? He may be in Colorado ; and if he is, you may be called upon to record the sudden death of that scamp Ketch- um, any day. I returned to Mr. Filmore's office to leave a note with him for Parsons, and he told me all about K. The fellow is a thorough scamp and all THE SILVER QUEEN. 61 his faults are aggravated ]>y his smooth and oily hypocrisy. It is true he has a family lieie, as I n entioned yesterday, and that he maintains them in a show of comfort and respectability ; l)ut his wife is a broken-hearted, dispirited creat- ure, whom he married at the muzzle of a frantic father's gun. He drags her to church to keep up appearances ; but that is all the respect or civility he shows her. When he was rich here, he kept a blonde angel of the demi-monde in swell style, with her car- riage and all that, while his wife was left to stump around on foot, with an oc- casional excursion in com- pany with the hired girl and the baby on the street- cars of a Sunday afternoon. Filmore says the wretch has ruined four or five poor girls in succession, who came to I M 62 TIIK SUA' Kit QJ'KKN. \P lit '.< iji ■i w III' It work ill liis oftice, and started them out on a Hcji <>f sin. I liojm PjirHoii!^ liiw gone to Coloriulo, 8o tlijit lie nuiy know just where his (laughter is. T intended to gi>'e him my opinion of tlu^ matter very plainly, if I had found him. You must keep a kindly eye on the poor child, Cy, and help her if you can. lloast that scoundrel and show up his rotten record and his swindling schejne, if he gives you half a chance to open on him. Jump him any way, and don't wait for a special provoca- tion. Filmore's address — Stanley R. Filmore — is room 199 Marine Building, Chi- cago, and he will willingly isupply you with facts enough from the man's ne- farious record to drive him out of Col- orado with his swindling mining schemes. It ought to be done — of THE SILVKU (Jl'KKN. 03 course only if the mine is a fake — for tliat 8ort of scaiuiw and swindlers are the ones who are hringini^ mining prop- ositions into disrepute in the East and making it almost impossible to raise money for legitimate enterprises. But I must close. Can you read this wild scrawl ? Yours, FitzMac. VII. Creede, Colo., April 13, '03. , Dear Fitz :— Your letter of the 9th, in which you hasten to undo what you did for Ketchum in the preceding let- ter, if it had no other purpose, was unnecessary. You can never make me believe that a man who eats mashed potatoes with a knife, dips his soup towai'd him and lets his trousers trail in the mud, has been brought up in respectable society. If anything more } n (i4 THE SILVER QUEEN. 1! * » ^1 ; ( waH needed to convince nie tluit Ketch uni was a shark, it was sup- plied by hliii when he tohl Wygant that he regai'ded '' advertising as un- professional and unnecessary." The newspapers, lie said, did more harm than good. Now, when you hear a man talk that way, you can gamble that he is working the shells and that his game won't stand airing. In speaking of the embarrassment of becoming very poor after having been very rich, you amuse me, by praying to be delivered from that awful condi- tion. Rest easy, my good fellow. If you follow your chosen path, that of mixing literature with mining, you will doubtless be independently poor the balance of your days. Well, Miss Parsons is here. She is boarding at the Albany. The Albany is all right. It is the best place in TIIK SILVKIi Ql'KKS. (I.-) tin; gulcli ; hut, of couiHc, you n<*vcr know wlio is going to occupy tluj next Hcut. LuHt night, at dinner, the \l(\\\ Tom Uzzell, the city editor jind Soapy sat at one table ; a murderer, a L'am- hler, a hand-painted Hkirt-dancer and a Catholic priest held another, while Miss Parsons, l^illy WckmIs, the prize- fighter, English Harry and T, ate wild duck at a large talde near the stove. I introduced Harry, who is an estima- ble young man, belonging to one; of the best families in Denver, with the hope that Miss Parsons might have an op- portunity to see the diffei'ence between a real gentleman and that social lepei-, Ketchum. After dinner I told Harry that I wanted him to make love to Miss Parsons. ''But, I don't love her," says he. "No matter," says I. "It's wicked," says he. 66 THE aiLVKIi QUEEN. m ■t ti m " It's right," says I. " It will save her from a life of misery." " What's the matter with you V says he. "If it's the 2)roper thing to make love to a sweet young woman whom you don't love, why don't you do it ?" I told him that I was too busy — that I had n't any love that I was not using — that I had done my share in that line. Still he Avas serious ; but finally promised to be a near relative, if he could not love her. I think I shall open an agency for the protection of unprotected girls. I had luncheon at Upper Creed'' yester- day, and was shocked when Inez Boyd came in with fresh drug-store hair. Fitz, she is not so beautiful as Miss Parsons ; but she is in greater danger, THE SILVER QUEEN. ()7 because she is not so strong, and lias not Lad the advantage of early train- ing as Miss Parsons has. "Jimmie," said I to the little devil this morning, "I want you to take a bundle of papers ; go up the gulch until you come to the office of the Sure Thing Mining Company ; go in and try to sell a paper. You may take an hour each day for this and loaf as lonp- as you care to in the office, unless they kick you out." "Sure thing they'll do that," said Jimmie. " Stop ! Keep an eye on Mr. Ketchum, and tell me how many peo- ple are working in the office." Two hours later Jimmie came in with his pockets filled with silver. "Sold all my papers," said he, as he fell over the coal scuttle. "Ketchum bought 'em all to get rid (38 THE SILVEli QUEEN. of me. Guess he wanted to talk to that girl he had in the office. Say, she's a bute. Must got 'cr in Denver ; they don't grow like that in dis gulch. They was a scrappin' like married people when I went in, and he wanted to throw me out. Not on your life, I told him ; I'm the devil on the Chronicle and dat gang' 11 burn you up if ye monkey wid me." " What were they quarreling about, Jimmie ?" " O, 'bout where she was to room, an' he told her she could sleep in de private office ; an' you ort to see her then ! Mama ! but she did lock up his forms for him in short order. Then she said she'd go home ; but she'd like to see the mine 'fore she worked fur stock. She's no chump. Say, he aint got no mine." THE SILVER Ql'EES. r)0 " You think not, Jiinmie ? '' I said to encourage him. "Naw. I went over to the Candle office and Lute Johnson's goin' to cre- mate 'em nex' issue." I leai-ned to-day tliat Ketchum had been accepting money from tenderfeet, promising to issue stock, as soon as the stock-l^ooks can be printed. I learn also that the Sure Thine: Mining Com- pany has no legal existence ; that the Sure Thing claim belongs to Ketchum personally. The camp continues to produce sor- row and silver at the regular ratio of sixteen to one. Old Hank Phelan, of St. Joe, died on the sidewalk in front of the Orleans Club last night. I showed my ignorance by asking a gang who stood round the dead man, at the coroner's inquest, who the distinguished dead might be. i ■' if ^ t ' i \ ll i 70 THE SILVER QUEEN. M m " Say, pardner," said one of the spoi'ty l)oys, " I reckon you don't ever look in a paper. Don't know Hank Plielan, as licked l)ig Ed. Brown, terror of Oklahoma?" And they all went in- side and left me to grope my way out of the dense ignorance that had settled ahoiit me. Bob Ford and Joe Palmer, with a pair of forty ■ five's, closed all the business houses and put the camp to bed at 9 : 30, one night last week. In an excited efPort to escaj^e, the New York Sun man and the city editor broke into the dormitory of the Hotel Beebee, whei'e the help slept, and two of the tal)le girls who had been pro- tecting against them, jumped out of a window into the river. A man Avas killed by a Avoman in Upper Creede the other night. THE SILVER QUEEN' 71 The City Marshal, Captain Liglit, concluded that Red McCann was a menace to good government and so re- moved him. His fiinei'al, which oc- currred last Sunday, was well attended. There was some talk next day l)y Mc- Cann's friends. They even went so far as to hold an inquest ; but Cap was well connected, being a brother-in-law to Sapolio, and he was spirited away. The C/tronide is not on a payino* basis yet. The twelve hundred dollars has disappeared ; and I have transferred my personal savings here to pay the printers. The schedule is the same and I am working for nothing. We have had a strike. Yesterday was a pay day and Freckled Jimmie, the devil, went out at G p. M. Jimmie had l)een Avith us through all these days of doubt and danger, and when he failed to show U|» this morning, I confess to a feelin<^ of r''n -•'i ! •I i ft I \i S!sS 72 TJIE SILVER QIEEN. loneliness. Another boy dropped in to take Jimniie's place ; but he was not freckled and I doubted him. About 10 the new boy went to the post-office. lie never came back. I remarked that it was not becoming in the editor of a great daily to sit and pine for a boy ; and yet, I could not shake off that feeling of neglect that came to me in the early morning and stayed all day. We expected the devil to call upon us, looking to a compromise ; but he failed to call. Along in the p. m.- ness, we sent a committee to wait upon Jimmie and ask him to visit the office. lie came in, chewing a willow bough. " Well, Jimmie," I began, " How would it suit you to come back to work at a raise of a dollar a week ? " "Well," said the striker, "I don't kere ef I do or not ; but ef you'll let it lap back, over last week, I'll go I- THE SILVEii QUEEN. 73 you. But mind, you don't call me ' Freck ' no more. My name's Jimmie from now on, see?" Jimmie is work- ing. Hope I may he able to give you some good news in | my next. So-long, Cy Warman. VIII. TELEGRAM. New York, April 13, 1892. The young person's paternal is here and in great luck again. He will wire funds to-day in your care, to make sure of not falling into wrong hands. Deliver message to person yourself, to avoid mistake. Look sharp. Letter by first mail explains all. Address Hoff- man House. Fitz-Mao. m Jil 74 rH£ SILVEli QUEEN. IX. Hoffman House, New YoiiK, April 13. Dear Waiiman : — The most surpris- ing thing in life is the number of sur- prises one encounters. Whom should I meet at breakfast here this morning, but Tom Parsons — no longer the ])roken and rejected man I have pictured to you, but flushed with success and swimming on top of Hope's effulgent tide. Some New York brok- ers who had known him in better days and who had con- fidence in his sagacity and nerve desir- ing to inaugurate a l>ig grain deal in Chicago, sent for him to come and steer the game. He was as cool to their propositions as if he had had a million THE SrrA'k'll QrrKKX. <;> to put in, and dcnianded a good per- centage of the profits. Tliey agreed to liis terms. lie lias stood behind the curtain liere for three weeks, and in tlie name of a deah'r here not sup[M)sed to be strong, lias engineered the corner and led the Chicago fellows into the net. There was a great deal of money up, and the weak firm which the Chi- cago operators expected to cinch proved to be only a stool-pigeon, for a very strong syndicate. They settled yesterday, and Tom^s share of the profits is a little over a hundred thousand. Wliat a frc^ak of fortune ! Though outwai'dly perfectly cool, I could see that Parsons is deeply affected by this turn of the tide, which puts him on his feet again. It is noth- ing but gailhlding after all, and his mind is flushed and warped by the sud- den success. lie is full of great proj- ■ if If,- hi I 70 THE SILVKli QVKEN. ccts to capture inillioiiH again. No g\it I was surprised the other day when Miss P. came into the office and asked my advice. Until lately she has en- deavored to avoid me. I think Ilariy has been watering my stock with the lady, and I am pleased to note that these young people occupy TUK iSILVEi: i^HKhJX. 81 a table at tlu? Alhaiiy that seats two. Last Sunday, I drifted into the tent wliere they liold sacred services ; it is called the Tabernacle. Miss Parsons was peiiorniing on a little cot- tage organ, ^vhile TIarry stooy- and-by ! Is there anything that holds so much for the trusting soul ? In the sun-kissed ovei'- yonder, there is rest for the weary. Always full and running over, there is no false bottom in the sweet by-and-by. Hope si)riii{>:s eteriiul In tiie liunuin breast, FaiDi to push the buttou— God will do the rest. M i ■ 82 THE SHA'KIi Ql KES. ft!' li I ]\',i\v Ix'ii'uii to Jiopo tliat IL'iriy will 1()V(^ Miss P.'ti'soiis. AVHjjit lit^ has , (lone f(H' her jilrcady lias Lad a good effect. His society is Letter for lier, just as the suiishiiie is better for the flowei's than the atni(>s2)here of a damp, dark cellar, where lizards creej) o'er the aweatini^ stones. Plenty of fellows here would love lier, but for their own amusement. Not so ^vith Ilany. He is as serious as though he were in reality an English- man. Yesterday the young lady was very much worried over a note she had received, and she showed it to me. It ended thus : I ill Go, leave me in my misery, And when thou art alone, God grant that thou may'st pine for me. As I for thee have pone. It was signed " Harry," and that's what hurt her heai't. I told her it was THK Str.VKli Qf'EKN. 8a Tnl)(H-'s writing ; tliat his first luiiiic. was Harry, iiiul she was ghiil. As I write tliis, I look across tln^ street to the l)ar])er-shop where Inez Boyd is having lier hair cut short. Ye Gods ! faded and then ani[)utated ! 3o will l)e her pure young life. Already the frost of sin has settled around lier soul. Youth's bloom lias been blighted ; her cheeks are hollow ; lier eyes have ^ a vacant, far-away look, f ' j|if^||[f (! Her mind, mayha[), goes ji' back to her happy home in Denver, where she used to kneel at night and say, ''Now I lay me." She has left her place at the restau- rant, and with her partner, that " break away " creature with the yellow hair, is livinc: in a cotta!j:e, takini^ their meals at the Albany. V '' •.''^t- 'i.'"'^ i^ 84 THE SILVER QUEEN. M I inuHt tell you now what Miss Par- sons wanted advice about. She had very little to do in the office, and if she would act as cashier in the restau- • rant at rneal time, two hours morning, noon and night, Mr. Sears would allow her ten dollars a week, and her board, or t^v^enty dollars a ^veek, in all. From *.) to 11, and 2 to 4, she could attend to Mr. Ketchum's correspondence. There was still another job open. They wanted an operator across the street at the Western Union from 8 p. M. until 12, Avhen the regular night man came on to take the Chronicle press report. If she could take that, it would make her cash income twenty dollars above her board. I asked her what she intended to do from midnight till morning. She smiled, good-naturedly, and said she thought she would have to sleep some, THE SILVER (Jl'KKX. 85 otherwise she would have asked for a job, folding papers. I told her that it was all very proper if she could stand the lonjj: hours. She said she could always get an ]i()ur\s sleep after her midday meal, and in that wa}^ she would l)e ahle to hold it down for a while. I ventured to ask why she failed to reckon her " Sure Thing" salary when counting her cash income. " Oh," she had forgotten. " Mr. Ketchum told her she would hjive to take her pay in stock." I did not tell her how w^orthless that stock was, bat I determined to have Mr. Ketchum attended to. Yestei'day a cpiiet caucus was held in the rear of Banigan's saloon, at which a committee of seven was ap- pointed to wait upon Mr. Ketchum and inquire into the affaii's of the Sure Thing Mining and Milling Com- mu t.ff mi;' t\. 8G THE SILVER QUEEN. pany, the statement having been made in the morning Chronicle that the com- pany had no legal existence. Here come the surprises. In accord- ance witli the arrangements made by the caucus at Banigan's, the committee called last night at the office of the Sure Thing Mining Company and asked rriWpn TrET i. for Mr. Ketchum. That gentleman showed how little he knew of camp life, by ordering them from the room. The spokesman told him to sit down and be quiet. He would not be com- THE SILVER Ql'EEN. 87 . \t maiuled to sit down in his own house, he said, as he jumped upon a tal>le and began to orate on the freedom of America. At that moment one of tlie party, who is called " Mex " because he came from New Mexico, shied a rope across the room. It hovered around near the canvas ceiling for a second, then settled around the neck of the orator. "Come off the perch," said Mex, as he gave the rope a i)ull and yanked the speculator from the talkie. That did the business. After that the operator only begged that his life l)e spared. "Now sir," said the leader, "you will oblige us by answering every question })ut to you. If you tell the truth you may come out all right, if vou lie vou will be taking chances." "We are the executive committee of the Gamblers' Protective Association If I 88 77/ a; HILVKH QVKKN. and we are here to investigate your game. We recognize tlie right of thti dealer to a liberal ])ercentage, but we are o})pos(Ml to sure thing men and sandbafjtifers." "Is th(^ Sure Thing Mining Company incorporated under the laws of Colo- rado ? " » Well— it^s— un— " " Stop sir,'' said the leader. " These questions will l)e put to you so that you can answer yes or no. I will say further that the committee will know when you tell the truth, so there's a hunch for you an' you better play it, see ?" " Is the Sure Thing Mining Company incorporated ? " " No." " Is it true that you have taken mojiey on account of stock to be is- sued ? " THE SILVKIi QUKE^\ 89 "Well,— I Imve." " Stop ! '' **Ye8 sir, it is true." "Have you paid your stenographer?" "Yes sir." "What in?" " Stock."' "How many claims do you own and what are they called, where located ? " uQj^e— Sure Thing. Bachelor Mount- ain." " Shipped any ore ? " " No." " Any in sight ? " " No." " Ever have any assay ? " " No." "ThatUl do." "Gentlemen," said the leader, "You have heard the questions and answers, all in favor of haugin' this fellow say ' aye.' " 00 27/ A,' SlLVKli QIKKN. Nil 1!^ "Contrary ' ii<>; " Three to tliree ; tlie vote is a tie. T will vote witli tlie ' iioeH ' we will not liani^ liini. "All in favor of turning liini loose at the lower end of the Bad Lands say ' aye.' " " Carried, unanimously." "Mr. Ketchuin, I congratulate you." All this took place in Upper Creede, and al)out the time the committee were escorting Ketchum down through the gulch, Kadish Bula, the superintendent of the Bachelor, rushed into the West- ern Union office anlusli wlicn hIk' ojk'IkmI tlu* door. " I tbotii^lit you wen* alone/' Harry was a))out to leave when she asked him to remain. With a graeeful little jump she landed on the desk in front of me, and t"Vr"Vt4 i'^ '""-■ . -| MOKNINCi L||M - III looking me straight in the face she said : " I want to ask you a few questions ,.^.. s^ IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) ^^. 1.0 I.I 1.25 ^ m m |25 2.0 kLE^ Photographic Sciences CorporatiGn 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14SS0 (716)S72-4S03 1 W-^X 4^ -ii ■^ \ vV i^ 1>2 THE SILVER QUEEN. and I want you to answer me truth- fully." "Is the Sure Thing Mining Company any good ? " " No," said I, and she never flinched. " Is Ketchums location of the Sure Thinjr claim a valid one ? " "That I cannot answer, for I don't know," said I. "Do you think Mr. Bula of the Bachelor would know ? " wtis her next question. We both agreed that he ought to be excellent authority on locations in gen- eral, and especially good in this case, as theirs was an adjoining property." "How, and when, can a claim be re- located ? " she asked with a steady look in my face. I asked her to wait a moment, and 1 called Mr. Vaughan. I go to him for everything that I fail to find in the dictionary. ^ : i ( THE SILVER QUEEN. 93 \ In a very few moments the expert explained to the young lady that a claim located in '00 upon which no as- sessment work was done in '91, was open for relocation in '92. That was exactly what she wanted to know, she said, as she shot out of the door and across the street to the tele- graph office. Before we had time to ask each other what she meant, a half dozen citizens walked through the open door. *'We have just returned from Wason, where we went with Ketchum," said the leader. "His game is dead crooked, and we told him to duck, and we want to ask about his typewriter, an' see 'f she's got any dough." I explained that Miss Parsons was across the street, working in the tele- graph office. 14 77/ A," SlIAKli QIKKS. " Miss riirsoiis," said the leader as he entered the offiee, *' we have just escorted your euiphiyer out of camp, and I reckon we put you out of a job ; we want to scpiare ourselves with you." " Oil, Vm all right," she said, glad to know that they had n't hanged the poor devil. ** I am working half time at the restaurant and un- til midnight here.'' Without saying a word, the leader held out his hand to one of the men who dropped a yellow coin into it, another did the same, and before she knew what it meant, the spokesman stacked seven tens upon her table, said good-night, and they left the room. \ • 77/ A" SiLVEIi QIKKS. !>") " Will you wiuk for mt* for an liour or so," said the girl as the night man entered the offiee. Of course he would, but lie was disappointed. His life in the camp had been a lonely one till this beautiful woman came to work in the office. He had dropped in two hours ahead of time just to live in the sunshine of her presence. " There's a tip for you/' she said as she flipped the top ten from the stack of yellows in front of the operator, dropped the other six into her hand-bag I and jumped out into the night. "Here I am again," she laughed as she opened my door. " I want you to put that in your safe till morning ; " and she planked sixty dollars in gold, down on my desk. iK> TIIK SILVER ijUEKN. " BlfMS you; Miss Parsonn," Huid I, " we don't keep such a thing. We al- ways owe tlie other fellow, but I'll give it to Vaughan, he does n't drink." "I want you and Harry to go with me," she said, " and ask no questions. Put on your overcoats, there are three good horses waiting at the door." In thirty minutes from that time, our horses were toiling up the Last Chance trail, and in an hour, we stood on the summit of Bachelor, eleven thousand feet above the sea. The scene was wondrously beautiful. Below, adown the steep mountain -side, lay the long, dark tra leading to the gulch where the arc lights glearijed on the trachyte cliffs. Around a bend in the valley, came a silvery stream — the broad and beautiful Rio Grande, its crys- tal ripples gleaming in the soft light „ / THE SIlA'EIi QVKKS. 1)7 of a midiiiglit moon. Away to the east, above, beyoud the smaller mountains, the marble crest of the Sani're de Christo stood up above the world. .. . 'V- — •*. ■ * \?^^ ^'./^ ■ _v-^^^>K'^-¥ Turning from this wondrous pictures I saw the horses with their riders just 98 77/ a; SlLVKJi iJl'KKX. entering n narrow trail tliat lay through an aHpen grove in the direction of the Bachelor mine. Harry had secured a board from the Bachelor shaft-house and was driving a stake on the Sure Thing claim when I arrived. " So this is what you are up to Miss Parsons,'^ raid I, taking in the situation at a glance." "Yes, sir," she said, "I have written my name on that stake and I propose to put men to work to-morrow." It was just midnight when we reached the telegraph office, and Miss Parsons showed ns the telegram which Mr. Bula had sent : it read *. r ^^ John Herrick, Denver Club, Denver: Got Amethyst vein. Sure Thing can be bought for one thousand, or can re- locate and fight them ; belongs to Ketchum. Answer." ' l! ; / THE SILVER QUEEN. 09 " Well," said Harry, " you're all right." " Now," said Miss Persons, " I want to find Mr. Ketchuni and give hirn a check for one thousand and get a bill of sale or something to show." We explained that Ketchum was at that time walking in the direction of Wagon Wheel Gap. Further, that un- less she had that amount of money in the bank, she would be doing a serious thing to give a check. ''Ah, but I have," she said with a smile," as she pulled a bank-book from her desk. "My father wired a thousand dollars to the Miners' and Merchants' Bank for me a few days ago ; the tele- gram notifying me it was there, came in your care, and I must apologize for not having told you sooner, but I was afraid you might ask me to give up my place, if you learned how rich I was." 100 27/ A' SILVKlt QUKKN. ''You aro all right, Miss Parsons," said I, "and I congratulates you — but tliere is no excuse for you wanting to give that scamp a tliousand dollars." " Then I must ask another favor of you," she said. " I want ten men to go to work on tlie Sure Thing to-morrow." At my request, Harry promised to have the men at work by nine o'clock, and as I write this I can hear the blasts and see the white smoke puflfiing from the Sure Thing claim. Just now I see Harry and the " Silver Queen" coming down the trail. They are riding this way ; Harry is holding a piece of rock in his left hand ; they are talking about it, and they both look very happy. Aye, verily, the surprises are surprising; hope springs eternal. Good -by, Cy Warm an. THE SlIA'Kll Ql'KKS. 101 XL Hoffman IIorsK, New Yohk, April 27, '1>2. My Deau Cy : — Your last letter is a daisy. I read it with all the interest of a novel. What a magic camp Creede must be, after all ! It was manly in those vigi- lantes who hustled Ketdium out of Qj camp so unceremoniously to treat our little friend, Polly, so gener- so delicately — characteristic of She is a cour- ageous and ca- pable girl, is n't she ? — her quickness of wit in jumping that Sure Thing claim shows it. 102 THK 8ILVEH QUKKN. Fm gliul you like her, and I knew you would, if you got to know tlie quick and courageous spirit that is in her. She did n't waste a day crying over spilt milk when her pap busted and all the case and luxuries and adu- lations that surround a rich man's daughter vanished from about her like dew before the sun, but just jumped in and went to learning how to earn her own living and help take care of the family. Would n't it be romantic, though, if that mine should really prove a bonanza! — I declare I get excited think- ing about it. I suppose there is act- ually a chance that it may, since it is on the same vein-^-or is supposed to be — as the Amethyst mine. Would n't that be too good ! How lucky that she hap- pened to be in the telegraph office when that dispatch was sent ! And oh, THE SiLVKR QUKKS. 103 say, you and Hurry, ain't you tlu* dandy Hpan to liavi^ Huch a pretty girl as Polly in your care — and put there hy yourn confidingly, don't forget. No, don't you (hfve forget, for you would never liave known Polly but for me, and Harry would n't Inivo got acquainted with her probably, but for you. ?t is lucky I happened to know your heart was already anchored, or I should never have introduced you. So Harry refused to fall in love with her, did he, when you issued your or- ders ? Well, I'll bet you a horse and buggy he will fall in love with her before he is a month older, unless he is in love with some other girl, for Polly is one of the most interesting girls I have ever seen. I don't know Harry very well, but my impressions are, he is an unusually nice fellow. If he is only half as r ' ' - ■ ' '■1 ■• " - . ■ y/ 104 TUB SILVER QUEEN. manly and smart as he looks, I shall put in the good word for him with Polly. I can see from what you write, she likes him alread}^ — and likes you also, or she would never treat you both with such confidence. But tshe will lead Harry a dance before ever he captures her — you bet she will — for she has a touch of the coquette in her nature in spite, also, of the warmest and most loyal of hearts. I hope he will fall in love with her ; it will do him good, even if nothing comes of it. A fellow whose nature is nou morbid, is never any the worse off for loving a good little girl like Polly, even if she do not recipro- cate. It may cost him some pain, but he will live it through, and no man's nature ever expands to its full capacity till the fever of an honest passion gets THE SILVER QUEEN. 105 into his blood — but you know liow that is yourself, Cy. I knew about her jumping the mine before your letter came — the bare fact only — for I have met Parsons here every day and he showed me a cipher dispatch from her telling him. It seems she knew his old cipher and used it. He translated it to me in the greatest admiration of her pluck and quickness. Probably she never would have done it if she had n't had you two fellows to stand by her. Bully boys ! I know you are behaving all right, or she would n't trust you. You may tell Harry all I have told you about the dreadful straits in which her family have been, so that he will perfectly understand how she came to go down to Creede. I would n't have him think cheaply of her for anything, for I have got it all fixed in my mind Km THE SILVER QUEEN. that he is ^ fall head over heels in love with her. I do not believe she has had a serious thought of any other fel- low, for, though as a young Miss she was quite a favorite in Chicago, it is not likely she formed any serious at- tachments — any attachment that would stand the strain of poverty such as the Parsons have gone through in the last three years. Since she and her mother have been in Denver, I know they have refused to make acquaintances and have kept proudly to themselves. So I vent- ure to guess the field is clear for Harry if he is lucky enough to inter- est her, and you are fairly safe in speaking the encouraging word to him. As I have said, it will do him good to get the fever in his blood, even if he should fail. Like her father, Polly is very swift and decisive in her judgments of peo- THE SILVER QUEEN. 107 pie, and very self-reliant. The girl has always been in love witb her father, and Tom has always treated her more like a lover than a father. He is awfully proud of her, and he brags about her to me every tiaie we meet. But he is anxious, nevertheless, about her being that camp, and he is leaving to- rn night to join her, and I fancy he will bring her away. You may know how anxious he feels in spite of all his brag about her pluck and smartness and her ability to take care of herself, when he abandons the irons he has in the fire here, to go out and look after her. He admires the business spirit in her and upholds it, hut still he is afraid thai fighting her own way in such a rough place will make her coarse and un- lovely. Tell Harry to put his beist foot for- ward and make his best impression on 108 THE SILVER QUEEN. the old man, if you find him caring seriously for Polly, for she is likely to go a good deal according to her father's fancy in the matter of a sweetheart. If he gets the old man^s heart, the battle for Polly is more than half won — that is, if she already likes him a little bit, which I am pretty sure from what you write she does. Of course, you will manage to let the old man know what a respectful admiration both you and Harry have had for Polly, and how, being vory busy, you have rather left it to your friend, Mr. English, a young gentleman of good judgment and re- sponsible character and all that, to keep an eye on her interests and make himself serviceable in case she needed counsel, etc., etc. But above all, make him think — both you and Harry — that his girl has n't really needed the protection of either of ■■•:<; THE SILVER QUEEN. 109 you, but has pa ed her own canoe like a veteran. That will please him more than anything else, and it would irritate his pride a little to think you had been necessary to her. You will get this probably before he arrives, for he will stop naif a day in Denver to see his wife and boy ; so be on your good behavior, both of you, and don't shock him. "What you tell me about that poor girl from Denver — Inez, is that her name ? — is distressing. Her first bleach- ing her hair and then cutting it off, shows plainly enough the course her young footsteps are taking. That sharp -faced, wiry little blonde she chums with has no doubt led her into evil ways. There is no company so dangeroub for a girl as a bad woman. Could n't you take her aside and give her a talking to, and advise her to go 110 THE SILVER QUEEN. home to her family ? Take her up to one of the dance- halls some night, and show her the beer-soaked, painted hags that haunt these places to pick up the means of a wretched and precarious ex- istence, and let her know that is where she will bring up, if she keeps on. But I suppose she is past talking to — past turning back. Write me the latest news about Polly's mine and how it is turning out, and how Harry and Polly are making it. I am deeply interested. Yours, Fitz-Mao. XII. Creede, Colo., May 9, 1892. Dear Fitz : — I have to tell you a sad stoiy now. Last Saturday I went to Denver, and as I entered the train at this place, I THE SILVKU QIKKS. ill notict'd some nu'U l>rini;In!; an invalid into the car. One of the men anked the porter to look after the sick girl in *' lower two," and I gathered from that tliat she was alone. I had section three, and as soon as the train pulled out I noticed that the sick person grew restless. We had been out less than thirty minutes when she began to roll and toss about, and talk as people do when sick with mountain fever. When the Durango car, which was a buffet, was switched to our train at Alamosa, I went to the sick berth and asked the sufferer if she would like a cup of tea and some toast. She was very ill, but she seemed glad to have some one talk to her, and as she an- swered *'yes," almost in a whisper, she turned her poor, tired, tearful eyes to me, and with a little show of excite- ment that started her coughing, spoke 112 THE SILVEIt QUEEN. ray name. It wa8 Inez Boyd. I should not have known her, but I had seen her after she had bleached her beautiful hair, and later when she was in the barber- shop. As the gold of sunset, that marked the end of a beautiful spring day, shone in through the car window, it fell upon her pale face, where a faint flush on her thin cheeks spoke of the fever within, and showed that the end of ''*''^**^^/ a life was near. She took a swallov or two of the tea, looked at the toast and pushed it away. She had been ill for a week, she said, and had eaten nothing for two days. I did w^hat little I could for her comfort, and when I went to say good-night, she held my hand ; the tears, one after another, came from the 1 ?' ; THE SILVER QUEEN. iia deep, dark eyes, fell across the palo cheeks, and were lost in the ghastly yellow hair. "Don't think I weep because I am afraid of death,'' she said. " I am so glad now, that I know that it's all over, but I am sorry for mannna ; it will kill her." I asked, and she gave me her ad- dress in Denver, and I promised to call. When the train stopped at *he gate of the beautiful city, she had called her home, some men came with an in- valid chair, and when I saw them take her to a carriage I hurried on to my hotel. That afternoon I called to ask after the girl. The windows were open, and I could see a few people standing about the room with bowed heads. Dr. O'Connor came down the little \ 114 THE SILVER QUEEN. walk that lay from the door of a neat cottage to tlie street, and without rec- ognizing nie, closed the gate softly, turned his back to me and hurried away. Inez Boyd was dead. God in His mercy, had called her away to save her from a life of sorrow, sin and shame, and He called her just in time. In the "Two Voices," Tennyson says : "Whatever crazy sorrow saith. No life that breathes with human breath Has ever truly loDged for death." I don't believe it. There are times in life — in some lives, at least — when nothing is more desirable than death. xm. Creede, Colo., May 13, 18'^2. My Dear Fitz : — You ask me how the Chronicle is doing. It is doing ■1 i THE SILVER QUEEN. 115 better than the editor. I have been reducing expenses on every hand, liut since the state land sale, the boom has collapsed, so tliat from one hundred dollars a week, we have got up to where we loto tLree hundred a we<'k, with a good prospect for an increase. The responsibility has grown so great, that I begin to feel like a Kansas farm, struggling to bear up under a second mortgage. I have been elected assistant superin- tendent of the Sunday-school, umpired a prize-fight, been time-keeper at a ball game, have been elected to the common council from the Bad Lands by an overwhelming vote, but I have received no salary as editor of the Chronicle. Tabor has written another note, and perpetrated some more poetry : «* Among these rose-bejeweled hills Where bloom the fairest flowers IU\ THE SILVER QUKEN. Where the echo from the minet and mlUi This little vale with music fills, We spent litVs gladdest hours. "And still within this limpid stream Where sports the speckled trout, Her mirrored face doth glow and gleam ; *Twa8 here I grappled love's young dream— And here my light went out." Is n't that enough to drive a young woman to cigarettea ? Some girls it might, but it will never disturb Polly Parsons. If I did not know Harry as I do, I should say he was learning to love Miss Parsons very rapidly, now that she is rich, but I will not do him that injustice. He has loved her all along, but the prospect of losing her is what makes him restless now. Men who have lived as long as you and I have, know how hard it is to ride by THE aiLVEH (JVKKN. 117 the side of a beautiful woman over these grand niountainH on a May morn- ing, without making love to her ; When the reitleas liaud of Nature Reaches out to shift the scene. And the brooks begin to warble in the dell; When the waking fields are fluffy And the meadow-lands are green, And the tassels on the trees begin to swell. Ah, these are times that try men's hearts ; but poor Harry, he is so timid ; why I should have called her down a month ago, if I had his hand. She is too honest to encourage him if she does n't really care for him, but she must, she can't help it, he is almost an ideal young man. Maybe that is where he falls down ; I've heard it said that a man who is too nice, is never popular with the ladies. Per- haps that is why you and I are pour- 118 THE SILVER QUEEN. ing our own coffee to-day. Swinburne says — " There is a bitterness in things too sweet." Polly's father is here. He brought a Chicago capitalist with him, and the Sure Thing has been sold for sixty-one thousand dollars. I was sorry to learn of tlie sale, for it will take away from the camp one of the richest and rar- est flowers that has ever adorned these hills. Since the great fire, we have all moved to the Tortoni, on the border of the Bad Lands. The parlor is very small, and last night when Harry and the "Silver Queen," as we call her now, were talking while I pretended to be reading a newspaper, I could not help hearing some of the things they said. Harry wanted her photograph, but she would not give it. She said THE SILVER QVEEN. 119 she never gave her pictures to young men, under any circumstances. When she found a young man witli whom she could trust lier photo, she said she would give him the original. Harry said something very softly then ; 1 did not hear what It was, hut she said very plainly, very seriously, that slw^ would let him know before she left. " And you go to-morrow ? " he asked, i% ^ 120 THE SILVER QUEEN. and it seemed to me that there were tears in his voice. "Yes," she said, with a sigh that hinted that she was not altogether glad to go. " Papa has bought the old place back again ; w^e shall stop in Denver for mamma and my little brotlier, and then return to tlie dear old home where I have spent so many happy days — where I learned to lisp the prayers that I have never forgotten to say in this wicked camp ; and I feel now that God has heard and answered me. It may seem almost wicked, but I am half sorry to leave this place ; you have all been so kind to me ; but it is best. Father will give you our address, and now, how soon may we expect you in Chi- cago ? " " How soon may I come ? — next week — next year ? " "Not next year," she said qui 'kly ; f'! THE SILVER QUEEN. 121 and although I was looking at ray paper, I saw him raise her hand to his lips. "And will you give me your photo then ?" he asked. "Yes," she whispered, and I wanted to jump and yell, hut I was afraid she might change her mind. "I wish you would sing one scng for me before you go," said Harry, after they had been silent for some moments. " What shall it be ? " "When other lips," he answered. " But there should be no other lips," said the bright and charming woman. "I know there should not, and I hope there may not, but sing it any- way and I will try to be strong and unafraid." As Miss Parsons went to the piano, I left the room, left them alone, and as I went out into the twilight, I I'i2 THK SILVKIi QUKKN. heard the gentle notes tis the light fingers wandered over the keys. *' When other lips and other hearts—" Came drifting through the trees. **In language whose excess imparts,'^ Was borne upon tiie breeze. Ah, hope is sweet and love is strong And life's a summer sea; A woman's soul is in her song ; " And you'll remember me." Still rippling from her throbbing throat With joy akin lo pain, There seemed a tear in every note, A sob in every strain. Soft as the twilight shadows creep Across the listless lea, The singer sang her love to sleep With, "You'll remember me." Truly yours, Cy Waeman. • '*-<< fi"