The Gold Trail Part 54

"Well," he said, "what are you going to offer?"

One wrote something on a strip of paper and handed it to the other, who nodded, and made an offer.

"That's our idea," he said. "I don't mind admitting that it will cost us twenty cents on the dollar."

"No," said Stirling, "it's going to cost you just whatever I like to call it. I can swing every dollar that stock stands for up to two or three. Will you do me the favor to glance at that certificate?"

Wannop handed it to the nearest man, and the latter's face fell.

"Now," said Stirling, "at the moment, you're the only people anxious to buy; but I've only to send that certificate and a nicely worked-up account of the rich new find around to the press, and everybody with a dollar to spare will be wanting Grenfell stock. Still, there'll be no shares available--I've made sure of that. I'll ask you, as men with some knowledge of these matters, where's the price going to?"

One of the men sat down limply.

"What'll you take to hold the thing over until after settling day?" he asked.

"In money?" inquired Stirling, whose face grew hard. "If you put it that way, we'll call it half your personal estate."

The second man, who saw that his companion had been injudicious, hastily broke in.

"No," he said; "in the shape of mutual accommodation. Perhaps there's some little arrangement you might like us to make."

Stirling laughed, "Anyway, why should you want to make an offer of that kind? Suppose I held the certificate over, it wouldn't straighten things out for you. You have to deliver to the people who acted on my behalf so much Grenfell stock, and you can't get it--now."

"That's true," was the dejected answer. "What are you going to do?"

"That," said Stirling, grimly, "is a matter that must stand over until I can send for the man who found the Grenfell mine. I can't tell you what course he's likely to adopt, but in the meantime I'd like to point out just how you stand. You set in motion the laws of supply and demand to break a struggling man. They're the only ones you recognize; but, as it happens, they're immutable laws that work both ways, and you're hard up against them now. It's not a pleasant situation, but I can't say how far we may be disposed to let you off it until I've had a talk with Mr. Weston. After that, I'll send for you."

There was nothing more to be said; and when the two men went out, Stirling turned to Wannop.

"If you can get a wire through to Mr. Weston, tell him to come back at once."

"I'll have it done," said Wannop. "He said he had sent an Indian to wait for letters or messages at the nearest railroad settlement. You have those men in your clutches. You could break them if you wanted to."

"Well," laughed Stirling, "on the whole I'm more disposed to make them hand over a moderate sum, and to let them off after that, on condition that in the future they keep their hands off the Grenfell Consolidated."

"You'd take their word?" Wannop asked.

"Yes," said Stirling, with an air of whimsical reflection; "in this case, anyway, I 'most think I could. They've had about enough of the Grenfell Consols. I guess they found them p.r.i.c.kly."

Then he went out, and Wannop despatched a telegram to Weston, who left the mine immediately after it reached him. Somewhat to his astonishment, he, found Stirling awaiting him when he sprang down from the car platform in the station at Montreal, and the latter smiled benevolently as he grasped his hand.

"Ida would have come along if I'd let her," he explained. "I felt, however, I'd better make things clear to you before you saw her. We'll go straight to Wannop's office and have a little talk."

It did not take Wannop long to explain the situation; and when he judiciously left Weston and Stirling alone together, the latter smiled at his companion.

"Well," he said, "as the specimens we have just been handling seem quite as rich as the last lot, it's evident that your share in the Grenfell will keep you comfortable, and, as far as I'm concerned, there's no reason why you and Ida should not set up housekeeping as soon as you like. Now, it's my intention to hand her a block of the Grenfell stock as part of her wedding present, on condition that she takes your advice as to what she does with it. I'd just like to suggest that you make the people who want that stock subscribe quite smartly, and then let them off. It's not wise to push a beaten enemy too far."

Weston, who agreed with this, expressed his thanks and then asked a question.

"Wannop mentioned one lot of six hundred shares. Where did you get those?"

"They were thrown on the market by an English holder. I believe you gave some stock to friends over there?"

"I did. On condition that they didn't sell without consulting me."

"Then it seems that somebody must have gone back on you."

Weston's face grew a trifle flushed.

"I think," he said, "we'll let that subject drop altogether. It's a rather painful one."

Stirling made a sign of comprehension.

"Well," he said, "I've other business on hand, and I guess Ida is expecting you."

Weston took the hint; and not long afterward Ida was smiling up at him with shining eyes. They had a good deal to tell each other, and some time had pa.s.sed when Ida said:

"We'll go back to the bush again as soon as the snow melts, if only for a week or two." Then she flashed a quick glance at him. "That is, unless you are longing for a trip to England."

A shadow crept into Weston's face as he remembered the six hundred shares, but he smiled a moment later.

"No," he said. "We'll go over there together by and by--but not just now. We'll camp beside the lake where I met you first, instead."

After a while Ida lifted his right hand gently, and glanced down at the battered knuckles and broken nails.

"I'm glad it's hard and strong--strong enough to keep me safe. And those scars will wear off, dear," she said. "There are scars of another kind that don't--but with those you and I have nothing to do."

Then she looked up at him.

"Do you know what first made me think of you?"

"I don't," replied Weston, smiling. "In fact, I have often wondered."

"Then," said Ida, "I'll show you. I mentioned the picture once before, but you didn't think it worth while to look at it. That was left to me. I looked at it very often while you were away."

She led him across the room, and Weston started and flushed when she took out the picture Arabella Kinnaird had made.

"No," said Ida, "I really don't think you have any reason to regret your conduct that eventful evening."

"I never fancied that you or Miss Kinnaird saw me," laughed Weston.

"I'm afraid it was a remarkably foolish action."

"It was one of the little actions that have big results," said Ida.

And in this she was correct, for one must reap as one has sown. Then she looked up at him.

"If you hadn't taken Grenfell's part that night you would not have found the mine."

Weston smiled, and gripped the hand he held in a tightening clasp.