disclosed itself, light by light. In the flash of glittering windows
and the sound of eager voices Miss Porter descended, without waiting
for Cass's proffered assistance, and anticipated Mountain Charley's
descent from the box. A few undistinguishable words passed between
them.
"You kin freeze to me, Miss," said Charley; and Miss Porter, turning
her frank laugh and frankly opened palm to Cass, half returned the
pressure of his hand and slipped away.
A few days after the stage-coach incident Mountain Charley drew up
beside Cass on the Blazing Star turnpike, and handed him a small
packet. "I was told to give ye that by Miss Porter. Hush--listen! It's
that rather old dog-goned ring o' yours that's bin in all the papers.
She's bamboozled that sap-headed county judge, Boompointer, into givin'
it to her. Take my advice and sling it away for some other feller to
pick up and get looney over. That's all!"
"Did she say anything?" asked Cass, anxiously, as he received his lost
treasure somewhat coldly.
"Well, yes! I reckon. She asked me to stand betwixt Hornsby and you. So
don't _you_ tackle him, and I'll see _he_ don't tackle you," and with a
portentous wink Mountain Charley whipped up his horses and was gone.
Cass opened the packet. It contained nothing but the ring. Unmitigated
by any word of greeting, remembrance, or even raillery, it seemed
almost an insult. Had she intended to flaunt his folly in his face, or
had she believed he still mourned for it and deemed its recovery a
sufficient reward for his slight service? For an instant he felt
tempted to follow Charley's advice, and cast this symbol of folly and
contempt in the dust of the mountain road. And had she not made his
humiliation complete by begging Charley's interference between him and
his enemy? He would go home and send her back the handkerchief she had
given him. But here the unromantic reflection that although he had
washed it that very afternoon in the solitude of his own cabin, he
could not possibly iron it, but must send it "rough dried," stayed his
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