t to know
what evil thing had wrought its way upon him.

But fret as she might, and burn as she might, with impatience,
love-created anger and resentment of some infamy, doubtless practiced
on them both, there was nothing in the world she could do.

She wrote again to Glen and had the letter posted in the mail. She
asked for information. Was he better? Could he come to Goldite soon?
Had he met Mr. Van? Had he understood that confession in her letter?
Had he really purchased a mine, with Searle, or had he, by some strange
mischance, concerned himself with the others in taking the "Laughing
Water" claim?

She explained that she was wholly in the dark, that worry was her only
companion. She begged him to come, if traveling were possible, and
told of her effort to see him.

That Bostwick had opened and read her letter to Glen, suppressing that
final page, together with sundry questions and references to himself,
she could never have dreamed. It is ignorance always that baffles, as
we grope our way in the world. And Beth had not yet entirely lost all
trust in Bostwick himself.

Searle, in the meantime, having gone straight to the "Laughing Water"
claim from Glenmore Kent, had remained three days away from Goldite and
had taken no time to write. When he came at last the girl's suspicions
were thoroughly aroused. That the man was a dangerous trickster, a
liar, and perhaps a scoundrel she was rapidly becoming convinced.

He arrived at the house in the late afternoon while Mrs. Dick and Beth
were engaged together in the dining-room, sewing at a quilt. The
meeting was therefore a quiet one and Beth escaped any lover-like
demonstrations he might otherwise have made.

Mrs. Dick, in her frank dislike of Bostwick, finally carried her work
upstairs.

"Well, well, sweetheart!" Bostwick exclaimed. "You must have heard the
news, of course. I expect your congratulations!"

He rose and approached her eagerly. She was standing. She moved a
chair and placed herself behind it.

"I suppose you mean the claim you've--taken," she said. "You're elated
over that?"

"Good Lord! aren't you?" he answered. "It's the biggest thing I've
ever done! It's worth a million, maybe more--that 'Laughing Water'
claim! And to think that Van Buren, the romantic fool, putting marble
slabs on the graves of the _demi-monde_, and riding about like a big
tin toreador, should have bought a property on reservation ground, and
lost it, gol