The Winning of Barbara Worth eBook

It was among such men as these that Abe Lee’s life had been spent.  Such scenes as these were home scenes to him.  In a peculiar way, through the Seer and Barbara, the work that these men were doing was dear to him.  He felt that he was being cast out of his own place.  As he passed through the throng Abe heard always the same topic of conversation:  the work—­the work—­the work.  News to these men meant more miles of canal finished, new ditches dug, more land leveled and graded, new settlers located.  The surveyor thought of the future of these people, given wholly into the hands of the Company; of the men in the East, who knew nothing of their hardships but who would force them to pay royal tribute out of the fruits of their toil; of how, even then, they were increasing the value of the Company property.

“Here she comes!” cried someone, and all eyes were turned to see the stage swinging down the street.  Abe drew back a little—­to the thin edge of the crowd; he was expecting neither letters nor friends.  The six broncos were brought to a stand in the midst of the crowd, the mail bag was tossed to the post-master and the passengers began climbing down from their seats.

As the last man rose from his place he stood for a moment in a stooped position, gripping with each hand one of the standards that supported the canvas top of the vehicle.  Looking out thus over the crowd he seemed to be gathering data for an estimate of the population before he felt cautiously with his foot for the step.

Abe Lee started forward with an exclamation.

It was Jefferson Worth!

CHAPTER XII.

SIGNS OF CONFLICT.

Not a line of Jefferson Worth’s countenance changed as the tall surveyor, pushing his way through the crowd about the new arrivals, greeted him.  But Abe Lee felt the man from behind his gray mask reaching out to grasp his innermost thoughts and emotions.

“Where is the hotel?”

Abe explained that the rough board shelter that bore that name was full to the door.  People were even sleeping on the floor.  “But there is room in our tent, Mr. Worth,” he finished and led the way out of the crowd.

To the surveyor’s eager questions the banker answered that Barbara was visiting friends in the Coast city.

When they had reached the tent and Abe had found and lighted a lantern, Mr. Worth said—­and his manner was as though he were continuing a conversation that had been interrupted only for a moment—­“well, I see you stayed.”

At his words the surveyor, who was filling a tin wash-basin with fresh water that his guest might wash away the dust of his journey, felt the hot blood in his cheeks.  Before answering he pulled an old cracker-box from under a cot in one corner of the canvas room and, rummaging therein, brought to light a clean towel.  When he had placed this evidence of civilization beside the basin on the box that did duty as a wash-stand, he answered:  “I quit the Company this afternoon.”