made you feel that way?”
“I—I don’t know. Only I saw him—I heard him. He wasn’t like a human being. He’s steel and—and flint. A terrible man! It made me weak just to know he was out there. . . . Mr. Weston, please—please don’t let him get me.”
“Cut the mister,” responded Lynn, gruff in his confoundment and apprehension. “My name’s Lynn. I fetched your things and some supper for both of us. But we’ll have to cook it.”
“I can cook,” she said seriously.
“I’ll build the fire and get some water in. Then I’ll go out and snoop around. I didn’t see any cars, only trucks as I drove in. . . . I wonder—had I better take you away tonight?”
“Oh, let me stay,” she pleaded wildly. She appeared terribly unstrung.
“That’d really be best. I didn’t have time to find you a boarding-house.”
“Lynn, why not let me stay here a—a little while. . . . Let me hide here till Bellew gives up searching?”
“Here! . . . In my cabin—with me?” exclaimed Lynn, aghast.
“Yes,” she importuned, her eyes gravely upon him. “You’re the only decent man I’ve met since I worked for Mr. Smith.”
“Thanks. . . . Say, L.A. must have been as bad to you as Shanghai,” returned Lynn, and he considered her suggestion a moment. It struck him singularly that he did not instantly repudiate the idea. But he nipped an insidious and pleasing temptation in the bud. “No, Anne, that wouldn’t do at all.”
“Why wouldn’t it—unless I’d impose upon you. But I could sleep in your woodshed—take care of your cabin.”
“I daresay you could, Gray Eyes,” he replied, regarding her with a growing realization that her personality equaled her charm. He could not help contrasting her with Helen Pritchard, whose memory only an extraordinary allusion could invoke. “Suppose you were caught here.”
“I wouldn’t care—for myself.”
“Well, I would. It’d ruin your good name.”
“With whom? Some of these workingmen? Possibly your boss or some officials? But I’m unknown here and alone in the whole world.”
“Anne! It’s not the thought of myself that makes me disapprove. Or lack of—of feeling for you. It’s principle. Lord knows, I’m not much. I’m a failure myself—and also alone in the world. But I won’t risk disgracing you.”
“You’re risking more by taking me to Boulder City. More than my life! . . . That Bellew will find me. He will. . . . Oh, I’d kill myself the minute I had a chance. But those beasts do not give a girl a chance even for that.”
“I could drive you to a railroad and put you on a train,” he replied, unable to meet the eloquent beseeching eyes.
“That would be as bad. Where can I go? What can I do? There’s no work these days. I’d be worse off than when I tramped the streets of Los Angeles.”
Lynn bent over to light the fire. He was in a tight spot, and he felt himself yielding. He ought to have been glad to shelter and protect this girl, and he wondered what besides his thought of her good name was at the root of his reluctance. Having lighted the fire he slowly got up to find her close beside him, waiting in a suspense that made him blurt out, “Anne, you’re distractingly pretty!”
“What of it?” she cried, almost in desperation. “I can’t help that. . . . Oh, I hate my face—all of me! If it weren’t for that I’d have missed this horrible experience.”
“Yeah? Well, any other girl having your beauty wouldn’t hate it, believe me. . . . I’ll go out now, Anne, and have a look around. Fasten the door. I’ll be back in half an hour. Meanwhile you get supper.”
Lynn put on the fleece-lined coat and strode out. The night was dark and cloudy, with a damp breeze off the river. Before he had gone halfway to the mess hall he realized he would have to give in to Anne’s proposition, at least for the moment. The poor kid was so frightened that she wanted to stay near the one man who had been kind and brotherly to her. Lynn persuaded himself anew that he had not refused on his own account. It really was the best and safest way out of the difficulty for the time being. And once having submitted to the idea he got something out of it, a warm, fine sense of another opportunity to prove to be what he had once hoped he might be, a relief not to take her away to a sleepless fear. What if some of the laborers discovered her in his cabin, or the boss, or even Mr. Carewe himself? The security for Anne would be sufficient until the evil hour came.
The doorman, Duncan, a cheery Scotchman, hailed Lynn: “Where have you been, me boy, these days?”
“Been to Vegas, and I’m batching it at my shack. Anybody asking for me, Dunc?”
“Lots of visitors today, but none for you, Weston.”
“Do you remember a big car driving up around four this afternoon? Bunch of young men?”
“Shure. They had dinner. Gave me a dollar for showing them around.”
“What’d they ask you?”
“Nothin’ particular.”
“Did you see them leave in their car?”
“I did that. And watched it. Their driver shure balled the jack.”
“Dunc, I want a mattress and a couple of blankets. Mine are not so hot. Guess I drew some old stuff when we moved down from the dormitory. Where’ll I get them?”
“There’s plenty of unoccupied tents since Boles took off that bunch of hands. Out at the end of camp. Help yourself and don’t say nothin’!”
Lynn walked around before he went in search of the needed articles. Over by the mill the clouds of pale dust hung over the noisy scene, obscuring the electric lights. The roar went on unceasingly, and to make out the swinging of carriages, the lifting giant arms of the cars and the looming through the gray shroud of huge trucks, all without a visible man in sight, gave the place an uncanny magic. Presently he hurried back to the camp, and after some search he located an unused tent from which he appropriated a mattress and blankets. These he carried to his cabin.
Lynn took care to go around to the side window and call low to Anne. She let him in, her eyes shining upon him as she grasped the meaning of the burden he carried.
“Oh, Lynn, you’ll let me stay!”
“Yes, I crawl. . . . Lord, I hope I’ll never be sorry. But I guess its the best thing for a few days—till I can get some woman to take you in.”
Her mute gratitude added to the thought-provoking mood she had fastened upon Lynn. He carried the mattress and blankets back into the shed, where he found room to make his bed. The fact that only a hanging piece of canvas would separate him from the cabin did not now disturb his equilibrium. He was astounded to find that she had put on the dress he had fetched from Boulder City. In fact upon his return from his half hour at the mill he had come in without noticing that she had changed. He had seen only her face, her eyes, her look of gladness.
