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Updated: June 10, 2025
After Roger came Phil, and he was timid enough to ask for a horse "that didn't look as if he wanted to eat somebody up." Phil had more of a time of it than Roger, but managed to keep in the saddle and ride around the corral several times. "It's not so hard as I supposed," said the shipowner's son, as he leaped to the ground, and the pony, freed of the saddle, galloped off.
Dave was not sure if it was a light or a star just showing above the clearing horizon. "Well, we may as well go ahead," said the shipowner's son. "No use in staying here trying to figure it out." They went on, taking the center one of the three trails. They had covered less than quarter of a mile when Phil gave a shout. "It is a light, I am sure of it the light of a lamp or lantern!
"But I I sure did think I was going over there!" And the shipowner's son shuddered. "Your cheek is cut, Dave!" cried Roger. "How did that happen?" "Oh, it's only a scratch made by a flying stone," was the answer. "It doesn't amount to anything." "I didn't dream that this trail would be so dangerous," went on the senator's son. "If I had known it, I wouldn't have asked you fellows to come along."
"If she declines to become Countess of Ventnor, she can marry whom she likes, as you will be all paupers together," was the Earl's caustic summing up. This brutal argument rather overshot the mark. The shipowner's face flushed with anger, and Lord Ventnor hastened to retrieve a false step. "I didn't exactly mean to put it that way, Deane, but my temper is a little short these days.
"You are not going to try to keep up this dog-trot all the way to the house, are you?" questioned the shipowner's son, after about a mile had been covered, and when they were passing over a rather rough portion of the trail. "Winded?" "Not exactly, but I shall be if I keep this up," panted Phil. "Besides, I don't want to tumble over these tree roots."
He searched the silhouette of the man at the window for an answer to the riddle. But Matheson's face was set, and the answer to the riddle was such as Lars Larssen could never have guessed. It lay outside the shipowner's pale of thought beyond the limitations of his mind. For Matheson also had his big life-scheme, and it now filled his mind with a blaze of light as he stood by the window, silent.
As they got closer to the light they saw that it came from a log house, low and rambling. Not far away were several other buildings, and also a corral. "We are on the right trail after all!" sang out the shipowner's son, joyfully, and commenced to run at the best speed he could command. "Hold on!" called Dave, but Phil was so eager to get to the house first that he paid no attention to the words.
"I'll wake up Phil, and we can watch the rascal," said Roger, and this was done, although not without difficulty, for the shipowner's son was inclined to give a yell when aroused from such a sound slumber. "Who who is it?" he stammered. "Say, maybe we had better get our pistols ready!" And he felt for his weapon. "I've got mine all ready," answered Dave. "And here is mine," whispered Roger.
"Yes, an' be careful thet ye don't go down in none o' them pesky holes," cautioned the old miner. Quarter of an hour later they reached the spot where they had shot the lioness. Looking ahead, they saw a torch waving in the air. "Hullo! hullo!" came in the voice of Phil. "Where are you?" "Here we are!" answered Dave and Roger. "You've been a long time in here," went on the shipowner's son.
"Dave can take out Jessie, and you can take out Laura, and I'll " "Take out Miss Belle," finished the senator's son. He caught Phil by the foot. "Say, you're smitten all right. Come on, Dave, let us wake him out of his dream!" And he commenced to pull on the foot. "Hi! you let up!" cried the shipowner's son, clutching at the bed to keep himself from falling to the floor.
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