counseled Danvers. "I shall be up again in a few weeks, and in the meantime write to me, Arthur."

He stood a moment as Judge Latimer waited for Eva. He felt, somehow, that his friend needed him. But his train would soon be due, and with a hearty hand-clasp he said good-night and hurried away for the Fort Benton express.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

Chapter V

Despair

The days that followed the convention were like a dream to Danvers when he remembered them afterwards. He had scarcely picked up the old life at Fort Benton--looked over his cattle and gone over his neglected correspondence, when a telegram from the old doctor recalled him to Helena.

Arthur Latimer's tragedy had come, and Danvers, unfamiliar with death, knew no words of consolation for the father bereft of his firstborn. A numbness mercifully comes during those first hours, which makes it possible to move about and go through strange, meaningless ceremonies with a calm that surprises those who have not known the searing touch of the death angel.

A few days later he and the doctor were back at Fort Benton again, and life moved on as before. Only there was always the memory of Latimer's drawn face that no laddie's voice would lighten, no little hand caress.

The doctor hoped that the political campaign would occupy his thoughts for the present, but when the election went against Latimer he shook his head.

"Read this letter," he said to Danvers one evening. "It came to-day, and I should have sent for you if I hadn't felt so certain you would drop in. You're the one to go."

It was a letter from Winifred, and Danvers felt a peculiar sensation of satisfaction in seeing her handwriting, as if it gave him an added bond to their friendship.

But he forgot Winifred in his anxiety over the message her letter conveyed.

_"I wish that you or Mr. Danvers could come to Helena," she wrote.

"Judge Latimer is so changed since little Arthur's death that we sometimes fear for his reason. Since the election has gone against him there is no direct interest to take his attention and he has sunk into a deep melancholy. You could rouse him as no one else could. Please come--one or both of you."_

Danvers read no further, but looked up to catch the doctor's eye. He nodded. "All right, doctor. I'll go to-night."

His heart was drawn still more closely to the stricken man. He longed to bring back to that sad face the smile that he remembered on the _Far West_, when Latimer's buoyancy had been like wine to his lonely heart.

He felt confident that the friendship of one man for another could reach the heart of his friend, now closing against all human sympathy.

It was noon before Danvers reached Helena and made his way to Judge Latimer's residence. He was startled by the absence of life, the silence and drawn shades. Turning, he saw Miss Blair entering her own gate.

"I'm so glad you've come!" cried the girl, with unaffected pleasure, as he hastened towards her. "But didn't you know that the Latimers had gone to the hotel for the winter?"

Danvers had not known.

"Come in and have lunch with Charlie and me," she urged; "it will be ready in just a minute. Charlie will be here soon and will want to congratulate you on your majority."

"But Arthur--I feel I must get to him."

"Come in and telephone. He has opened offices down town and you may find him there. I call up Eva every morning, but Judge Latimer is out a great deal."

While she was speaking Danvers had followed her into the house. It was a homelike room; a canary's trill greeted them, and a glimpse of old-fashioned plants in the bay-window wakened memories of English homes. How different it was from his rooms at Fort Benton!

Winifred smiled brightly as she made him at home, and excused herself for a moment.

"And how is Judge Latimer?" questioned Danvers, as she reappeared from the dining-room with a big ap.r.o.n, which she fastened about her waist in a most businesslike manner.

"He needs cheering--needs loving! With the old routine of office suddenly lacking, and little Arthur gone, the man is lost--aimless.

There seems to be nothing worth while--nothing to keep him with us! And there are other troubles--I don't understand them myself, but you will know how to help him. I'm so glad you have come!" she repeated, with a warmth that made his heart beat faster. What would it be like to find such a welcome for his own sake--and every night when he came home!

"Did you 'phone the office?" The words recalled him.

"Yes. He is down in the valley; the clerk didn't know when he would return."

"We won't wait for Charlie. He's often late, and I know you are anxious to find the judge."

After a few minutes' absence Winifred announced that luncheon was ready.

As Philip held the curtains for her to precede him to the dining-room he looked longingly at the sweet-scented blossoms in the window.

"I have seen nothing more delightful in years," he explained. "I am old-fashioned enough not to care for palms or rubber plants."

"Another bond of friendship," smiled Winifred, lightly. "Shall I make the salad dressing, or would you prefer to mix it yourself?" she asked, after she had persuaded him to take the head of the table.

"I make a dressing that is the despair of my friends," she continued.

"So I make them shut their eyes when I mix it, else my one accomplishment would be mine no longer."

Philip promised, with a smile, to "play fair." He delighted in the housewifely nonsense, and ate the salad, though he hated olive oil.

"Salads are a woman's folly," he had once said. But he did not repeat it.

"How do you like it?" Her mood suited the visitor. The light conversation took his mind from the more serious purpose of his visit, and Winifred's accent implied accepted friendship. He needed this relaxation.

"I never cared for salads, before," he replied truthfully.

"Why did you eat it?"

"I ate it, and I liked it because you made it for me. I am not used to being waited upon, and I rather like the experience."

"You poor man!" Winifred sympathized without reflection. "It must be horrid not to have anyone to do things for you. I should think--I mean----" she colored as she met Philip's eyes, "I mean--Charlie says that I have spoiled him completely."

The advent of Blair relieved the girl from her condition of fragmentary speech, and they talked of the Latimers and the political outlook for the coming winter.

Danvers took his leave with a feeling of regret at parting from unexpectedly congenial friends. How little he had known of Blair--the good fellow. How cheery and unaffected Winifred was! The years were bridged which had separated him from his kind, and as he walked down the street he felt a glow of kindness toward all the world.

He called at the hotel, thinking Latimer might have returned, but Mrs.

Latimer pettishly denied any knowledge of his whereabouts. He often went for long walks, she said, and seldom returned until late. "Won't you stay until he returns?" she invited, but Danvers pleaded business.

Twice during the afternoon Danvers ran up to the judge's office, but failed to find him until evening. Seeing a light in the inner office, he opened the door and entered.

The judge did not look up. He sat with his back to the door, and gazed intently at a revolver, while his hand played idly with the trigger.

Danvers stepped forward and silently reached for the weapon.

"No, no, Arthur! Not that!"