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It was she, the beautiful woman that the seeress had predicted, the one he should fall in love with! She had won his heart before he even saw her, but how could he hope to win her? She was a singer, an artist as Mother Trigedgo had said, and he was a hobo miner.
"Do you still believe in the prophecy?" she asked, "and in all that Mother Trigedgo told you? Because if you do, I've got some news you won't die until you're past eighty." "I won't?" challenged Denver and then he stopped and waited as she smiled back at him mischievously. "She's a nice old woman," went on Drusilla demurely, "but I wouldn't take her too seriously.
The fates had turned against him, his horoscope had come to nothing; he had followed the admonitions of Mother Trigedgo and this was the result of her advice. She had told him to beware how he revealed his affection, but nothing about what to do when he had fallen asleep while his beloved sang only for him.
Yet it was hard on his pride when the automobiles rushed past and the passengers looked back and stared, it was hard to have the guard always watching the gang for fear that some crook might decamp; and only the thought that he was working out his destiny gave him courage to play out his hand. But how wonderfully had the prophecy of Mother Trigedgo been justified by the course of events!
She had strolled up before, only to hear the clank of his steel and the muffled thud of his blows; and now as she stood waiting, attired as daintily as a bride, the dream-hero of her memories was banished. He was a miner again, a sweaty, toiling animal, dead to all the finer things of life; but if Denver read her thoughts he did not notice, for he remembered what Mother Trigedgo had told him.
There's a woman over in Globe Mother Trigedgo is her name and she saved the lives of a lot of us boys by predicting a cave in a mine. Well, she told my fortune and here's what she said: "You will soon make a journey to the west and there, within the shadow of a place of death, you will find two treasures, one of silver and the other of gold.
Mother Trigedgo had said that he should be brave, nevertheless very well then, he would dare oppose Murray. But now to choose between the two, between the Professor's stringer of gold and Bunker's vein of silver with the ill will of Murray attached. Denver pondered them well and at last he lit a candle and referred it to Napoleon's Oraculum.
There was a woman back in Greece that was like Mother Trigedgo, and she prophesied, before a man was born, that he'd kill his own father and marry his own mother. What do you think of that, now? His father was a king and didn't want to kill him, so when he was born he pierced his feet and put him out on a cliff to die.
As old Bunk had said, all these prophecies were symbolical, and he had done Mother Trigedgo an injustice. And there was one claim that he knew of yes, and four others, too that Murray would never jump. That was his own Silver Treasure and the four claims of Bunker's that he had done the annual work on himself.
"Oh," she murmured with a mild show of interest and Denver picked up his hammer. Mother Trigedgo had warned him not to be too friendly, and now he was learning why. He set out a huge fragment that had been blasted from the face and swung his hammer again. "Did you ever hear the 'Anvil Chorus'?" she asked watching him curiously. "It's in the second act of 'Il Trovatore."
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