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Updated: May 1, 2025
Demorest, now as self-possessed as his adversary, haughtily waved his hand towards the path. They walked on in silence, without even looking at each other, until they reached a small summer-house that stood in the angle of the wall. Demorest entered. "We cannot be heard here," he said curtly. "And we can see what is going on. Good," said Blandford, coolly following him.
Van Loo's face reddened with an anger that had the apparent effect of removing every trace of his former polished repose, and leaving only a hard outline beneath. At which Demorest interfered: "I can't say that I see much difference in gambling by putting money into a hole in the ground and expecting to take more from it than by putting it on a card for the same purpose."
A dirty towel covered it. Demorest whisked it dexterously aside, and disclosed three large fragments of decomposed gold and quartz. Barker started back. "Heft it!" said Demorest grimly. Barker could scarcely lift the pan! "Four thousand dollars' weight if a penny!" said Stacy, in short staccato sentences. "In a pocket! Brought it out the second stroke of the pick!
Who could have thought Stacy could be so poetic? But he wanted to tell them something else that was mighty pretty. "What was it?" said Demorest. "Well," said Barker, "don't laugh! But you know that Jack Hamlin? Well, boys, he's been hovering around us on his mustang, keeping us and that pack-mule in sight ever since we left.
For with all his deep affection for his wife, Richard Demorest unconsciously feared her. The strong man whose dominance over men and women alike had been his salient characteristic, had begun to feel an undefinable sense of some unrecognized quality in the woman he loved.
"Well," said Demorest, a little uneasily under his friend's keen eyes, "we've lost that chance, but we've kept control of the stock." "You think so? Well, let me tell you how the case stands and the price we pay for it," said Stacy deliberately, as he folded his arms and gazed at Demorest.
But the momentary vision of a waistless woman with a shawl gathered over her head and shoulders at the back door attracted his attention. She said something to Mateo in Spanish, and the yellowish-white of Mateo's eyes glistened with intelligent comprehension. "Ah, posiblemente; it is Don Ricardo Demorest you wish?" Mr.
"If, instead of going off to Europe by himself to brood over it, he had joined me in business, he'd have been another man." "But not Demorest," said Barker quickly. "What dreadful secret is this about Demorest?" said Mrs. Barker petulantly. "Is he ill?" Both men were silent by their old common instinct.
They hurried a little faster as the road became more frequented, as if eager to shorten their distance to clean clothes and civilization. Only Demorest began to linger in the rear. This contact with the stagecoach had again brought him face to face with his buried past.
"Nothing," said Demorest hastily, as he caught a glance of Stacy's impatient face. "Only all business is serious, Barker boy, though you don't seem to feel it so." "I reckon you're right there," said Barker, with a chuckle. "People always laugh, of course, when I talk business, so it might make it a little livelier for you and more of a change if I chipped in now.
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