"And so you found the gold?" Glen eagerly asked.

"I should say we did. Why, that cave is full of it. We shall be as rich as Croesus in a short time."

"Oh, I am so glad," and the girl gave a sigh of relief. "When we get the gold why cannot we leave this country, daddy, and go outside? I want to travel and see the world, and enjoy life. There, now, I know you will either scold or laugh at me. But I mean every word I say."

"I shall do neither, dear," was the quiet reply, "so you need not fear.

I have known for some time that you wish to leave this country, and I have given it very serious consideration. But you must wait a while, that is, for a few days at least. It all depends upon something about which I do not care to speak now, as I must have more time to think it over."

Weston rose suddenly from the table and went into the kitchen. Glen and Reynolds looked at each other without a word. They were both surprised at Weston's words and the abrupt manner in which he left them. Moved by the same impulse, they, too, rose from the table and went out of doors. It was a beautiful evening, and the sky beyond the mountain peaks was aglow with the lingering light of departing day.

The lake lay like a mirror, its borders black with the shadows of the near-by trees.

At the kitchen window Weston stood wrapped in thought. Forgotten was the man lying in the bunk, for his mind was upon the two slowly wending their way to the lake. The room seemed to stifle him, so he went to the door and stood there, silent and alone. He was fighting the hardest battle of his life, much harder, in fact, than the one he had fought in his study the night he had first interviewed Reynolds. He knew that he was at the parting of the ways. That Glen had given her heart to the young stranger he was certain, and he believed that she would never be happy apart from him. They would leave the northland, and should he remain? That was the question which was now agitating his mind. How could he live alone without Glen's inspiring presence?

There was no one to take her place, and he was getting well along in years. He thought of her who had meant so much to him in the sweet days of old. What agony had wrung his soul when she was taken from him, and how his whole life had been changed. A slight groan escaped the lips of the unhappy man, and mechanically he reached out his hands into the night. At once there flashed into his mind the words Glen and Reynolds had sung together at Glen West:

"'Tis a tale that is truer and older Than any the sagas tell.

I loved you in life too little-- I love you in death too well."

The sound of happy laughter from the sh.o.r.e fell upon his ears. He started and looked down toward the sh.o.r.e. He could dimly see the two standing near the water close to each other, and intuitively he knew its meaning. They had forgotten him and everything else. They were sufficient to each other, and all cares for the time had vanished.

Weston knew that the old, old tale was being repeated by the sh.o.r.e of that inland lake, and that two young hearts were responding to the sweet, luring charm of that divine influence, which banishes all grief and care, and transfigures life with the halo of romance.

CHAPTER XXVI

THROUGH THE STORM

Next morning Reynolds started with Sconda for Big Draw. As he mounted his horse in front of the cabin, Glen stood nearby, and he thought that he had never seen her look so pretty. If any man had ever been tempted to express all that was in his mind he had been the previous evening as they stood by the sh.o.r.e of the lake. He believed that Glen loved him, and he up-braided himself for not speaking and telling her of the deep feeling of his heart. But he would return, and then he would not let such another opportunity pa.s.s.

Glen stroked the horse's proudly-arching neck as he champed impatiently at his bit.

"Take care of your master, Pedro," she ordered, "and bring him safely back to Glen West."

"Then you wish me to return, eh?" Reynolds queried.

"Why shouldn't you?" and the girl blushed. "You have to arrange about that gold, you know."

"So I have. I am glad you reminded me." They both laughed, and Reynolds looked longingly into Glen's eyes. "You must promise, though, that the Indians will not drive me beyond the pa.s.s, and that your father will not subject me to the Ordeal."

"I think I can answer for them," was the low reply. "You are one of us now, and that makes a great difference. But here comes daddy; he will scold me for delaying you."

"I wish I did not have to go," Reynolds declared. "I would much rather go with you to Glen West. But I shall hurry back."

"And be careful of yourself at Big Draw," the girl warned. "Curly is there, and he hasn't any love for you."

"Oh, I guess I shall be able to match that villain, so do not worry.

Good-by; I must be off, for Sconda is getting impatient."

Reynolds rode rapidly down the trail, turning once to wave his hand to Glen, who was watching him before the cabin door. He was very happy, for he believed that he had won the heart of the purest, sweetest, and most beautiful girl in the whole world. He sang s.n.a.t.c.hes of songs as he rode along, and at times laughed aloud in boyish glee, much to Sconda's astonishment. Life was bright and rosy to him on this fine summer morning, and the future looked most promising. He could hardly believe that he was the same person who had entered the country but a few weeks before, and who had travelled over that same trail with Frontier Samson. He was hoping to find the old prospector at Big Draw; who would be anxious to hear of his adventures.

About an hour later Glen bade her father good-by. She was all ready to start for home.

"Don't stay here long, daddy," she pleaded. "Come as soon as you can, for I shall be lonely without you."

"And will you really miss me?" Weston asked.

"Certainly I shall miss you. Life is not worth living when you are not at home."

"Not even when Reynolds is present?"

Glen blushed furiously, and her father smiled, a sad smile, which Glen was quick to notice. Throwing her arms impulsively about his neck, she kissed his bronzed cheek.

"I love you dearly, daddy," she murmured. "But because I love him does not lessen my love for you."

"I know it, dear, I know it," and Weston's voice was husky as he held his daughter close. "I am glad to know that you are happy, and I have every reason to believe that Reynolds is worthy of your love. Your confidence means very much to me. But, there, now, you had better be off. Natsu will look well after you. I was forced to send Sconda with Reynolds, as Natsu is not to be trusted at Big Draw. There are some unscrupulous fellows at the mining camp who might fill him with bad whiskey, and when he is half drunk he is liable to talk too much."

Glen enjoyed the ride over the long crooked trail, and her spirits, which had been somewhat depressed at the parting from her father and Reynolds, revived. There was nothing which thrilled and stimulated her so much as riding on Midnight through the great wilderness. Her lithe, supple body swayed in a rhythmical motion as the horse sped on his way.

Riding was one of the few attractions which made the northland tolerable, and she wondered what she would do outside to replace it.

"I shall take you with me, old boy," she confided, as she affectionately patted Midnight's neck. "It would not do to leave you behind. My, what a great time we shall have upon the level roads!"

Then she fell to thinking about the joy of visiting different lands, and seeing strange sights. But she always a.s.sociated her travels with Reynolds. She pictured him by her side as they went from place to place, eager and delighted at everything they beheld. It was certainly a pleasant dreamland in which she was living on this beautiful morning.

Not a shadow dimmed her vision. All was rosy and fair, and like another speeding on his way to Big Draw, she was surrounded by the halo of romance.

It was supper time when Glen at length reached home, where she at once handed Midnight over to Natsu, and entered the house. Nannie was greatly surprised to see her back so soon, accompanied only by the Indian. But a little later, as they sat down to supper, Glen related the tale of experiences in the hills, omitting only her adventure with Curly.

"And just think, Nannie!" she enthusiastically exclaimed in conclusion, "daddy is seriously thinking about leaving the north and going outside.

Isn't it great?"

"Is he, indeed?" and the elderly woman looked her surprise.

"Oh, yes. When I spoke to him about it he said that he wished to think it over, and might let me know in a few days. Oh, I hope that he will decide to go, don't you?"

Nannie made no reply for a few minutes, but went on with her supper.

"And what will become of me?" she at length asked.

"Why, you must go with us, of course. You will not mind going, will you?"

"Not now," was the quiet reply. "I have been quite happy here because I had you to think about and love. But you will be leaving soon, I feel sure, and how could I endure this place without you? You have little idea how much I missed you when you were away at school."

"Why do you think I shall be leaving soon?" Glen asked.

"I am not altogether blind, dear," and Nannie smiled. "You know the story of the Sleeping Beauty. Only the man who was bold enough could win her, and when he did venture into the enchanted place, a marvellous change ensued. So it has happened here."

"But I am not a sleeping beauty, Nannie," and Glen blushed, for she well understood the meaning of her companion's words.

"A very active beauty, I should say," and the woman looked with admiration upon the fair face before her. "But the principle is the same. The Prince has come, he has won your heart, and a great change has been wrought in this place, which has affected even your father.