a few years the treasure will be
exhausted, and the looters will depart. The engines will lie in rust and
ruin; the wind will sweep through the empty homes; the tailing-piles lie
pallid in the moon. Then the last man will strike the last blow, and
Silence will come again into her own.

Yea, Silence will come home once more. Again will she rule despotic over
peak and plain. She is only waiting, brooding in the impregnable
desolation of her hills. To her has been given empery of the land, and
hand in hand with Darkness will she return.

CHAPTER XXI

Ha! here I had reached the Forks at last. As I drew up at the hotel, the
clerk came out to meet me.

"Gent wants to speak to you at the 'phone, sir."

It was Murray of Dawson, an old-timer, and rather a friend of mine.

"Hello!"

"Hello! Say, Meldrum, this is Murray speaking. Say, just wanted to let
you know there's a stage due some time before morning. Locasto's on
board, and they say he's heeled for you. Thought I'd better tell you
so's you can get fixed up for him."

"All right," I answered. "Thank you. I'll turn and come right back."

So I switched round the horse, and once more I drove over the glistening
road. No longer did I plan and exult. Indeed a grim fear was gripping
me. Of a sudden the shadow of Locasto loomed up sinister and menacing.
Even now he was speeding Dawsonward with a great hatred of me in his
heart. Well, I would get back and prepare for him.

There came to my mind a comic perception of the awkwardness of returning
to one's own home unexpectedly, in the dead of night. At first I decided
I would go to a hotel, then on second thoughts I determined to try the
house, for I had a desire to be near Berna.

I knocked gently, then a little louder, then at last quite loudly.
Within all was still, dark as a sepulchre. Curious! she was such a light
sleeper, too. Why did she not hear me?

Once more I decided to go to the hotel; once more that vague, indefinite
fear assailed me and again I knocked. And now my fear was becoming a
panic. I had my latch-key in my pocket, so very quietly I opened the
door.

I was in the front room, and it was dark, very dark and quiet. I could
not even hear her breathe.

"Berna," I whispered.

No reply.

That dim, nameless dread was clutching at my heart, and I groped
overhead in the darkness for the drop-light. How hard it was to find! A
dozen times my hand circled in the air before I knocked my knuckles
a