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Updated: June 20, 2025
At the recent meeting of the American Society of Civil Engineers, in this city, a paper on an improved form of the averaging machine was read by its inventor, Mr. Wm. S. Auchincloss. The ingenious method by which the weight of the platform is eliminated from the result of the work of the machine was exhibited and explained.
The dead were: Travers, who had died on the passage of the Atlantic; Auchincloss and Gorlitz, burned to death; Kloof, Daimamoto, Beziers and Sheffield, killed by the Beni Harb; Lombardo, killed by the Meccans; Rrisa, suicide. In addition to these, we must not forget the Sheik Abd el Rahman, still locked a prisoner in the cabin that for some days had been his swift-flying prison-cell of torment.
At this same moment Auchincloss had already arrived at his rooms in the McAlpine; and there, having carefully locked his door, had settled himself at his desk with his sealed box before him. For a moment he studied it under the electric light. Then, breaking the wax with fingers tensed by eagerness, he tore it open. He spread the contents on his blotting-pad.
"That man Beasley!" he soliloquized. "Beasley in cahoots with Snake Anson!... Well, he was right. Al Auchincloss is on his last legs. Poor old man! When I tell him he'll never believe ME, that's sure!" Discovery of the plot meant to Dale that he must hurry down to Pine. "A girl Helen Rayner twenty years old," he mused. "Beasley wants her made off with.... That means worse than killed!"
What a fine, broad-shouldered girl you are! An', Nell, you're the handsomest Auchincloss I ever seen!" Helen found herself blushing, and withdrew her hands from his as Roy stepped forward to pay his respects.
The hunter stepped closer. "I reckon I owe you more 'n I can ever pay," said Auchincloss, with an arm around each niece. "No, Al, you don't owe me anythin'," returned Dale, thoughtfully, as he looked away. "A-huh!" grunted Al. "You hear him, girls.... Now listen, you wild hunter. An' you girls listen.... Milt, I never thought you much good, 'cept for the wilds.
I seen thet years ago. The government is goin' to chase the Apaches out of here. Soon homesteaders will be flockin' in. Big future, Dale. You want to get in now. An' " Here Auchincloss hesitated, then spoke lower: "An' take your chance with the girl!... I'll be on your side." A slight vibrating start ran over Dale's stalwart form. "Al you're plumb dotty!" he exclaimed. "Dotty! Me?
An' many folks say it's a pity she'll lose it." "She won't lose it," declared Dale. How strange his voice sounded to his own ears! It was hoarse and unreal, as if from disuse. "Wal, we-all have our idees. I say she will. My father says so. Carmichael says so." "Who's he?" "Reckon you remember thet cow-puncher who came up with Roy an' Auchincloss after the girls last fall?" "Yes.
Work that does not help others is not a real man's work." From that moment conscience tormented him. It was not what he loved, but what he ought to do, that counted in the sum of good achieved in the world. Old Al Auchincloss had been right. Dale was wasting strength and intelligence that should go to do his share in the development of the West.
But no matter what awaited nor what fateful events might hinge upon this nameless circumstance about to be disclosed, the wonderful and glorious fact of the present was that in a moment he would see Helen Rayner. There were saddled horses in the courtyard, but no riders. A Mexican boy sat on the porch bench, in the seat where Dale remembered he had encountered Al Auchincloss.
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