It was part of the violent nature of Rimrock that his wrath fell upon both the just and the unjust. Mary Fortune had worsted him in their passage at arms and left him bruised from head to heels. She had simply let him come on and at every bludgeon stroke she had replied with a rapier thrust. Without saying a word against the character of Mrs. Hardesty she had conveyed the thought that she was an adventuress; or, if not exactly that, then something less than a lady. And the sure way in which she had reached for that book was proof positive that the stock was not recorded. But the thing that maddened him most, and against which there was no known defense, was her subtle implication that Mrs. Hardesty was at the bottom of his plan to go East. And so, with the fury still hot in his brain, he made poor company on the road to the Tecolote.

Since Mrs. Hardesty had come, as a stockholder of course, to look over the Company's properties, it was necessary that she should visit the mine, though she was far from keen for the trip. She came down at last, heavily veiled from the sunshine, and Rimrock helped her into his machine; but, being for the moment in a critical mood and at war in his heart against all women, he looked at her with different eyes. For the best complexion that was ever laid on will not stand the test of the desert and in the glare of white light she seemed suddenly older and pitifully made up and painted. Even the flash of pearly teeth and the dangerous play of her eyes could not hide the dark shadows beneath; and her conversation, on the morning after, seemed slightly artificial and forced.

Perhaps, in that first flight of their unleashed souls when they sat close in the balcony alone, they had reached a height that could never be attained when the sun was strong in their eyes. They crouched behind the windshield, for Rimrock drove recklessly, and went roaring out across the desert and between the rush of the wind and the sharp kick of the chuck-holes conversation was out of the question. Then they came to the camp, with its long rows of deal houses and the rough bulk of the concentrator and mill; and even this, to Mrs. Hardesty's wind-blown eyes, must have seemed exceedingly Western and raw.

A mine, at the best, is but a hole in the ground; and that which appears on top--the shaft-houses and stacks and trestles and dumps--is singularly barren of interest. The Tecolote was better than most, for there were open cuts with steam shovels scooping up the ore, and miners driving holes into the shattered formation and powder-men loading shots. Rimrock showed it all faithfully, and they watched some blasts and took a ride in the gliding cars, but it was hardly a trip that the average lady would travel from New York to take. So they both breathed a sigh when the ordeal was over and the car had taken them home.

At the door of the hotel Mrs. Hardesty disappeared, which gave Rimrock a chance for a drink, but as he went past the desk the clerk called him back and added to the burden of his day.

"What's these?" demanded Rimrock as the clerk handed over some keys, but he knew them all too well.

"The keys to the office, sir. Miss Fortune left quite suddenly and requested me to deliver them to you."

"Where'd she go?" he asked, and, not getting an answer, he burst into a fit of cursing. He could see it all now. She had not gone for an operation, she had gone because she was mad. She was jealous, and that was her way of showing it--she had gone off and left him in a hole. He ought to have known from that look in her eye and the polite, smiling way she talked. Now he was tied to the mast and if he went to New York he would have to turn over the mine to Jepson! And that would give Jepson just the chance he wanted to jump the Old Juan claim.

For a man who was worth fifty million dollars and could claim a whole town for his friends Rimrock put in a most miserable night as he dwelt on this blow to his hopes. He was like a man checkmated at chess--every way he turned he was sure to lose if he moved. For the chance of winning a hypothetical two thousand shares, which Stoddard was supposed to have sold to Mrs. Hardesty, he had thrown away and lost forever his control over Mary Fortune's stock. Now, if he followed after her and tried to make his peace, he might lose his chance with Mrs. Hardesty as well; and if he stayed with her Mary was fully capable of throwing her vote with Stoddard's. It was more than her stock, it was her director's vote that he needed above everything else!

Rimrock paced up and down in his untidy room and struggled to find a way out. With Mary gone he could not even vote a dividend unless he came to an agreement with Stoddard. He could not get the money to carry out his plans, not even when it lay in bank. He could not appoint a new secretary, to carry on the work while he made his trip to New York. He couldn't do anything but stay right there and wait until he heard from her!

It was a humiliating position for a man to find himself in, and especially after his talk with Mrs. Hardesty. Perhaps he had not considered the ways and means very carefully, but he had promised her to go back to New York. A man like him, with his genius for finance and his masterful control of men, a man who could rise in a single year from a prospector to a copper king; such a man was wasted in provincial Arizona--his place was in Wall Street, New York. So she had said that night when they sat close together and their souls sought the high empyrean of dreams--and now he was balked by a woman. Master of men he was, and king of finance he might be, but woman was still his bane.

He looked at it again by the cold light of day and that night he appealed to Mrs. Hardesty. She was a woman herself, and wise in the ways of jealousy, intrigue and love. A single word from her and this impenetrable mystery might be cleared up like mist before the sun. And she ought to help him because it was through her, indirectly, that all this trouble had occurred. Until her arrival there had never been a moment when he had seriously worried over Mary. She had scolded, of course, about his gambling and drinking and they had had their bad half hours, off and on; but never for an instant had there been the suggestion of a break in their business affairs. About that, at least, she had always been reasonable; but now she was capable of anything. It would not surprise him to get a telegram from Stoddard that he was coming out to take over the control; nor to discover later, across the directors' table, Mary Fortune sitting grimly by. He knew her too well! If she once got started! But he passed--it was up to Mrs. Hardesty.

They met at dinner, the lady being indisposed during the day as a result of their strenuous trip, but she came down now, floating gracefully in soft draperies and Rimrock knew why he had built those broad stairs. He had thought, in jail, that he was building them for Mary, but they were for Mrs. Hardesty after all. She was a queen no less in her filmy gown than in the tiger-skin cloak that she wore, and Rimrock dared to use the same compliment on her that he had coined for Mary Fortune. They dined together in a secluded corner on the best that the chef could produce--and for a Chinaman, he accomplished miracles--but Rimrock said nothing of his troubles. The talk was wholly of gay, distant New York, and of the conflict that was forming there.

For a woman of society, compelled by her widowhood to manage her own affairs, it was wonderful to Rimrock how much she knew of the intricacies of the stock market and of the Exchange. There was not a financier or a broker of note that she did not know by name, and the complex ways by which they achieved their ends were an open book to her. Even Whitney H. Stoddard was known to her personally--the shrewdest intriguer of them all--and yet he, so she said, had a human side to him and let her in on occasional deals. He had been a close friend of her husband, in their boyhood, and that probably accounted for the fact; otherwise he would never have sold her that Tecolote.

"But he's got a string on it," suggested Rimrock shrewdly; but she only drooped her eyelashes and smiled.

"I never carry gossip between rivals," she said. "They might fly at each other's throats. You don't like Mr. Stoddard. Very well, he doesn't like you. He thinks you're flighty and extravagant. But is that any reason why we shouldn't be friends--or why my stock isn't perfectly good?"

"Don't you think it!" answered Rimrock. "Any time you want to sell it----"

"A-ah! At it again!" she chided laughingly. "How like fighting animals men are. If I'd toss that stock, like a bit of raw meat, in the midst of you copper-mad men! But I won't, never fear. In the fight that would follow I might lose some highly valued friend."

From the droop of her lashes Rimrock was left to guess who that friend might be and, not being quick at woman logic, he smiled and thought of Stoddard. They sat late at their table and, to keep him at ease, Mrs. Hardesty joined him in a cigarette. It was a habit she had learned when Mr. Hardesty was living; although now, of course, every one smoked. Then, back at last in the shadowy alcove--which was suddenly vacated by the Jepsons--they settled down on the Turkish divan and invited their souls with smoke. It rose up lazily as the talk drifted on and then Rimrock jumped abruptly to his problem.

"Mrs. Hardesty," he said, "I'm in a terrible fix and I want you to help me out. I never saw the man yet that I couldn't get away with--give me time, and room according to my strength--but I've had a girl working for me, she's the secretary of our company, and she fools me every time."

Mrs. Hardesty laughed--it was soft, woman's laughter as if she enjoyed this joke on mere man--and even when Rimrock explained the dangerous side of his predicament she refused to take it seriously.

"Ah, you're all alike," she said sighing comfortably, "I've never known it to fail. It's always the woman who trusts through everything, and the man who disbelieves. I saw her, just a moment, as she passed down the hall and I don't think you have anything to fear. She's a quiet little thing----"

"Don't you think it!" burst out Rimrock. "You don't know her the way I do. She's an Injun, once she makes up her mind."

"Well, even so," went on Mrs. Hardesty placidly, "what reason have you to think she means trouble? Did you have any words with her before she went away? What reason did she give when she left?"

"Well," began Rimrock, "the reason she gave was some operation to be performed on her ears. But I know just as sure as I'm sitting here to-night she did it out of jealousy, over you."

"Over me!" repeated Mrs. Hardesty sitting up abruptly; and then she sank back and shook with laughter. "Why, you foolish boy," she cried, straightening up reproachfully, "why didn't you tell me you were in love? And we sat here for hours! Did she see us, do you suppose? She must have! Was she waiting to speak to you, do you think?"

"My--God!" exclaimed Rimrock, rising slowly to his feet. "I had an appointment with her--that night!" He paused and Mrs. Hardesty sat silent, the laughter dead on her lips. "Yes, sir," he went on, "I was going to meet her--here! By grab, I forgot all about it!" He struck his leg a resounding whack and sank back upon the divan. "Well, now isn't--that fierce!" he muttered and Mrs. Hardesty tittered nervously.

"Ah, well," she said, "it's soon discovered, the reason why she left you so abruptly. But didn't she say a word about it? That doesn't seem very lover-like, to me. What makes you think the child was jealous? Did she mention my name at all?"

"Nope," mumbled Rimrock, "she never mentioned it. That girl is an Injun, all through! And she'll knife me, after this! I can feel it coming. But, by George, I plumb forgot!"

"Oh, come now!" consoled Mrs. Hardesty, giving him a gentle pat, "this isn't so bad, after all. If I can only see her, I'll explain it myself. Have you any idea where she's gone?"

"Bought a ticket for New York--where Old Stoddard hangs out. I can see my finish--right now!"

"No, but listen, Mr. Jones--or may I call you Rimrock? That's such a fine, Western name! Did it ever occur to you that the trains are still running? You could follow, and let me explain!"

"Aw, explain to a tiger cat! Explain to an Apache! I tell you that girl is an Injun. She'll go with you so far, and stand for quite a little; but when she strikes fire, look out!"

"Oh, very well," murmured Mrs. Hardesty and reached for a cigarette which she puffed delicately while Rimrock gloomed. It was painfully clear now--the cause of Mary's going and the embittered vindictiveness of her smile. Not only had he sat up to talk with Mrs. Hardesty, but he had brought her to where Mary had been waiting. He had actually talked love, without really meaning it, with this fascinating woman of the world; and, having an appointment to meet him right there, how could Mary help but know? He pictured her for a moment, lingering silently in the background, looking on where she could not hear. Was it less than human that she should resent it and make an excuse to go? And yet she had done it so quietly--that was the lady in her--without a word of tragedy or reproach! He remembered suddenly that she had laughed quite naturally and made some joke about his name being Mister.

"What's that you say about the trains still running?" he demanded as he roused up from his thoughts. "Well, excuse me, right now! I'm on my way! I'm going back to hunt that girl up!"

He leaped to his feet and left her still smoking as he rushed off to enquire about the trains.

"Well, well," she murmured as she gazed thoughtfully after him, "he's as impulsive as any child. Just a great, big boy--I rather like him--but he won't last long, in New York."