 Chapter 1 of At The Time Appointed Upon a small station on one of the transcontinental lines winding among the mountains far above the level of the sea, the burning rays of the noonday sun fell so fiercely that the few buildings seemed ready to ignite from the intense heat. A season of unusual draught had added to the natural desolation of the scene. Mountains and foothills were blackened by smoldering fires among the timber, while a dense pall of smoke entirely hid the distant ranges from view. Patches of stagebrush and bunch grass burned sear and brown, alternated with barren stretches of sand from which piles of rubble rose here and there, telling of worked out and abandoned mines. Occasionally a current of air stole noiselessly down from the canyon above, but its breath scorched the withered vegetation like the blast from a furnace. Not a sound broke the stillness. Life itself seemed temporarily suspended, while the very air pulsated and vibrated with the heat, rising in thin, quivering columns. Suddenly the silence was broken by the rapid approach of the stage from a distant mining camp, rattling noisily down the street, followed by a slight stir within the apparently deserted station. Whirling at breakneck pace around a sharp turn, it stopped precipitately amid a blinding cloud of dust to deposit its passengers at the depot. One of these, a young man of about five and twenty, arose with some difficulty from the cramped position which for seven weary hours he had been forced to maintain, and, with sundry stretchings and shakings of his superb form, seemed at last to pull himself together. Having secured his belongings from out the pile of miscellaneous luggage thrown from the stage upon the platform, he advanced toward the slouching figure of a man just emerging from the baggage room, his hands thrust deep in his trousers' pockets, his mouth stretched in a prodigious yawn, the arrival of the stage having evidently awakened him from his siesta. How's the Westbound on time? queried the young man rather shortly, but despite the curtness of his accents there was a musical quality in the ringing tones. Before the cavernous jaws could close sufficiently for reply, two distant whistles sounded almost simultaneously. That's her, drawled the man, with a backward jerk of his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the sound. She's a blind man's past, be here in about fifteen minutes. The young man turned and sauntered to the rear end of the platform, where he paused for a few moments. Then, unconscious of the scrutiny of his fellow passengers, he began silently pacing up and down, being in no mood for conversation with anyone. Every bone in his body ached, and his head throbbed with a dull pain, but these physical discomforts, which he attributed to his long and weary-some stage ride, caused him less annoyance than did the fact that he had lost several days' time, besides subjecting himself to numerous inconveniences and hardships, on what he now denominated a fool's errand. An expert mineralogist and metallurgist, he had been commissioned by a large syndicate of eastern capitalists to come west, primarily to examine a certain mine recently offered for sale, and secondarily to secure any other valuable mining properties which might happen to be on the market. A promoter, whose acquaintance he had formed soon after leaving St. Paul, had poured into his ear such fabulous tales of a mine of untold wealth, which needed but the expenditure of a few thousands to place it upon a dividend-paying basis. That, after making due allowance for optimism and exaggeration, he had thought it might be worth his while to stop off and investigate. The result of the investigation had been anything but satisfactory for either the promoter or the expert. He was the more annoyed at the loss of time because of a telegram handed him just before his departure from St. Paul, which he now drew forth and which read as follows. Parkinson, expert for M and M on trail, knows you as our representative but only by name. Lie low and block him if possible. Barnard. He well understood the import of the message. The M and M stood for a rival syndicate of enormous wealth, and the fact that its expert was also on his way west promised lively competition in the purchase of the famous Ajax Mine. Five days he soliloquized, glancing at the date of the message, which he now tore into bits together with two or three letters of little importance. I have lost my start and am now likely to meet this Parkinson at any stage of the game. However, he has never heard of John Darrell and that name will answer my purpose as well as any among strangers. I'll notify Barnard when I reach Ophir. His plans for the circumvention of Parkinson were now temporarily cut short by the appearance of the double header rounding a curve and rapidly approaching. A welcome sight for the heat and blinding glare of light were becoming intolerable. Only for a moment the ponderous engines paused, panting and quivering like two living sentient monsters. The next with heavy labored breath as though summoning all their energies for the task before them, they were slowly ascending the steadily increasing grade, moment by moment with accelerated speed, plunging into the very heart of the mountains, bearing John Darrell, as he was to be henceforth known, to a destiny of which he had little thought, but which he himself had unconsciously hoped to weave. An hour later, on returning to the sleeper after an unsuccessful attempt at dining, Darrell sank into his seat and, leaning wearily back, watched with half-closed eyes the rapidly changing scenes through which he was passing, for the time utterly oblivious to his surroundings. Gigantic rocks, grotesque in form and color, flashed past. Towering peaks loomed suddenly before him, advancing, receding, disappearing, and reappearing, with the swift windings and doublings of the train. Massive walls of granite pressed close and closer, seeming for one instant a threatening and penetrable barrier. The next, opening to reveal glimpses of distant, billowy ranges, their summits white with perpetual snow. The train had now reached a higher altitude, and breezes reddled in of pine and fir fanned his throbbing brow, their fragrance thronging his mind with memories of other and far-distant scenes. Until gradually the bold outlines of cliff and crag grew dim, and in their place appeared a cool, dark forest through which flecks of golden sunlight sifted down upon the moss-grown, flower-strewn earth. A stream singing beneath the pines, then rippling onward through meadows of waving green. A widespreading house of colonial build half-hidden by giant trees and clinging rose-vines, and framed among the roses, a face strong, tender, sweet, crowned with silvered hair, one of the few which sorrow makes beautiful, which came nearer and nearer, bending over him with a mother's blessing, and then he slept. The face of the sleeper, with its clear-cut, well-molded features, formed a pleasing study, reminding one of a bit of unfinished carving, the strong bold lines of which reveal the noble design of the sculptor, the thing of wondrous beauty yet to be, but which still lacks the finer strokes, the final touch requisite to bring it to perfection. Strength of character was indicated there, an indomitable will that would bend the most adverse conditions to serve its own masterful purpose and make of obstacles the paving stone to success, a mind gifted with keen perceptive faculties but which hitherto had dealt mostly with externals and knew little of itself or of its own powers. Young, with splendid health and super-abundant vitality, there had been little opportunity for introspection or for the play of the finer, subtler faculties, and of the whole gamut of susceptibilities, ranging from exquisite suffering to ecstatic joy, few had been even awakened. His was the nature capable of producing the divinest harmonies or the wildest discords, according to the hand that swept the strings as yet untouched. For more than an hour Daryl slept. He was awakened by the murmur of voices near him, confused at first, but growing more distinct as he gradually recalled his surroundings, until, catching the name of Parkinson, he was instantly on the alert. Yes, a pleasant voice was saying, I understand the Ajax is for sale if the owners can get their price, but they don't want less than a cold million for it, and it's my opinion they'll find buyers rather scarce at that figure when it comes to a showdown. Well I don't know, that depends, was the reply. The price won't stand in the way of my people, if the mine is all right. They can hand over a million, or two for that matter, as easily as a thousand if the property is what they want, but they've got to know what they're buying. That's what I'm out here for. Taking a quiet survey of the situation, Daryl found that the section opposite his own, which, upon his return from the dining-car, had contained only a motley collection of coats and grips, was now occupied by a party of three, two of whom were engaged in animated conversation. One of the speakers, who sat facing Daryl, was a young man of about two and twenty, whose self-assurance and assumption of worldly wisdom, combined with a boyish impetuosity, he found vastly amusing. Well at the same time, his frank, ingenuous eyes and winning smile of genuine friendliness, revealing a nature as unsuspecting and confiding as a child, appealed to him strangely, and drew him irresistibly towards the young stranger. The other speaker, whom Daryl surmised to be Parkinson, was considerably older and was seated facing the younger man, hence his back was towards Daryl, while the third member of the party, and by far the eldest, of whose face Daryl had a perfect profile view, although saying little seemed an interested listener. The man whom Daryl supposed to be Parkinson inquired the quickest way of reaching the Ajax mine. Well, you see, it's this way, replied the young fellow. The Ajax is on a spur that runs out from the main line at Ophir, and the train only runs between there and Ophir twice a week, Wednesdays and Saturdays. Let's see, this is Wednesday. We'll get into Ophir tomorrow, and you'll have to wait over until Saturday, unless you hire a rig to take you out there, and that's pretty expensive and an awfully rough jaunt besides. I don't mind the expense, retorted the other, but I don't know as I care to go on any jaunts over your mountain roads when there's no special necessity for it. I can get exercise enough without that. I tell you what, Mr. Parkinson, said the young fellow cordially. You and your friend here, Mr. Hunter, Daryl stared at the mention of the last name, had better wait over until Saturday, and in the meantime I'll take you people out to camp bird, as we call it, and show you the bird mine. That's our mine, you know, and I tell you she is a bird and no mistake. You'll be interested in looking her over, though I'll tell you beforehand she's not for sale. Do I understand that you have an interest in this remarkable mine, Mr. Whitcomb? Parkinson inquired, a tinge of amusement in his tone. Not in the way you mean, that is not yet, though there's no telling how soon I may have if things turn out as I hope, and the boyish cheek flushed slightly, but I know what I'm talking about all the same. My uncle, DK Underwood, is a practical mining man of nearly years' experience, and what he doesn't know about mines and mining isn't worth knowing. He's interested in a dozen or so of the best mines in the state, but I don't think he would exchange his half-interest in the bird mine for all his other holdings put together. She's a comparatively new mine yet, but taking into consideration her depth and the amount of development, she's the best-paying mine in the state. Here, let me show you something. In hastily pulling a notebook from his pocket, he took there from a narrow slip of paper which he handed to the expert. There's a statement, he continued, made out by the United States Essay Office, back here at Galena, that will show you the returns from a 60 days run of the bird mill. What do you think of that? Parkinson's face was still invisible to Darrell, but the latter heard a long, low whistle of surprise. Young Whitcomb looked jubilant. They say figures won't lie, he added, in tones of boyish enthusiasm, but if you don't believe those figures, I've got the cash right here to show for it, accompanying the words with a significant gesture. Parkinson handed the slip to Hunter, then leaned back in his seat, giving Darrell a view of his profile. Sixty days, he said musingly, seventy-five thousand dollars. I think I would like to take a look at the bird mine. I think I would like to make Mr. Underwood's acquaintance. Whitcomb laughed exultingly. I'll give you an opportunity to do both if you'll stop over, he said. And don't you forget that my uncle can give you some pointers on the Ajax, for he knows every mine in the state. Mr. Hunter here handed the slip of paper to Whitcomb. Young man, he said with some severity, gazing fixedly at Whitcomb through his eye glasses. Do you mean to say that you are traveling with seventy-five thousand dollars on your person? Certainly, sir, Whitcomb replied, evidently enjoying the situation. Mr. Hunter shook his head. Very imprudent, he commented. You are running a tremendous risk. I wonder that your uncle would permit it. Oh, that's all right, said Whitcomb confidently. Uncle usually comes down himself with the shipments of bullion, and he generally banks the most of his money there at Molina. But he couldn't very well leave this time, so he sent me. And as he was going to use considerable money paying for a lot of improvements we put in, and paying off the men, he told me to bring back the cash. There's not much danger, anyway. The West isn't as wild nowadays as it used to be. Handing a second bit of paper to Parkinson, he added, there's something else that will interest you. The result of some essays made by the United States Essay Office, on some samples taken at random from the strike we made last week. I'll show you some of the samples, too. Great Scott, ejaculated Parkinson, running his eye over the returns. You seem to have a mind there all right. Sure thing. You'll think so when you see it, Whitcomb answered, fumbling in a grip at his feet. At the site of the specimens of ore which he produced a moment later, his two companions became nearly as enthusiastic as himself. Leaning eagerly forward, they began an inspection of the samples, commenting on their respective values, while Whitcomb, unfolding a tracing of the workings of the mine, explained the locality from which each piece was taken, its depth from the surface, the width and dip of the vein, and other items of interest. Darrell, who was carefully refraining from betraying any special interest in the party across the aisle, soon became aware that he had a conversation. In the section directly in front of the one occupied by Whitcomb and his companions, a man was seated, apparently engrossed in a newspaper, but Darrell, who had a three-quarter view of his face, soon observed that he was not reading, but listening intently to the conversation of the men seated behind him, and particularly to young Whitcomb's share in it. Upon hearing the latter statement that he had with him the cash returns for the shipment of bullion, Darrell saw the restlessness of his face suddenly grow tense and rigid, while his hands involuntarily tightened their hold upon the paper. He grew uncomfortable under Darrell's scrutiny, moved restlessly once or twice, then turning, looked directly into the piercing dark eyes fixed upon him, his own eyes, which were small and shifting, instantly dropped, while the dark blood mounted angrily to his forehead. A few moments later, he changed his position so that Darrell could not see his face, but the latter determined to watch him and to give Whitcomb a word of warning at the earliest opportunity. "'Well,' said Parkinson, leaning back in his seat after examining the oars and listening to Whitcomb's outline of their plans for the future development of the mine. "'It seems to me, young man, you have quite a knowledge of minds and mining yourself.' Whitcomb flushed with pleasure. "'I ought to,' he said. "'There isn't a man in this western province of business better, or has got it down any finer than my uncle. He may not be able to talk so glibly or use such high-sounding names for things as you fellows, but he can come pretty near telling whether a mine will pay for the handling, and if it has any value he generally knows how to go to work to find it.' "'Well, that's about the gist of the whole business,' said Parkinson. He added. "'You say he can give me some tips on the Ajax?' "'He can if he chooses to,' said Whitcomb, but you'd better not let him know that I said so. He'll be more likely to give you information if you ask him offhand.' "'Well,' continued Parkinson, "'when we get to Ophir, I'll know whether or not it can stop over. I've heard there's another fellow out here on this Ajax business. Whether he's ahead of me, I don't know. I'll make inquiries when we reach Ophir, and if he hasn't come on the scene yet I can afford to lay off. That's fine.' Parkinson glanced at Hunter, who nodded almost imperceptibly. "'I guess that's the best arrangement we can make at present,' said Parkinson, rising from his seat. "'Come and have a smoke with us, Mr. Whitcomb?' Whitcomb declined the invitation, and, after Hunter and Parkinson had left, sat idly turning over the specimens of ore, until, happening to catch Daryl's eye, he inquired pleasantly, "'Are you interested in this ore?' "'In a way, yes,' said Daryl, crossing over and taking the seat vacated by Parkinson. "'I'm not what you'd call a mining man. That is, I've never owned or operated a mine, but I take a great interest in examining the different ores and always try to get as much information regarding them as possible.' Whitcomb at once launched forth enthusiastically upon a description of the various samples. Daryl, well careful not to underestimate or to thorough a knowledge of ores in general, yet was so keenly appreciative of their remarkable richness and beauty that he soon won the boy's heart. "'Say,' he examined, "'you had better stop off at Ophir with us, we would make a mining man of you in less than no time. By the way, how far west are you traveling?' "'Ophir is my destination at present, though it is uncertain how long I remain into any particular line of business?' "'No, only looking the country over for the present.'" To divert the conversation from himself, Daryl, by a judicious question or two, led Whitcomb to speak of the expert. "'Parkinson,' he said with a merry laugh. "'Oh yes, he's one of those eastern know-it-alls who come out here occasionally to give us fellows a few points on mines. They're all right, of course, they wouldn't know a mine if they saw one. But when they undertake to air their knowledge among these old fellows who have spent the lifetime in the business, why they're likely to get left, that's all. Now, this Parkinson seems to be a pretty fair sort of man compared with some of them. But between you and me, I'd wager my last dollar that they'll lose him on that Ajax mine." "'Why, what's the matter here?' The Ajax has been a bonanza in its day, but within the last year or so the bottom has dropped out of the whole thing, and that's the reason the owners are anxious to sell." "'I hear they ask a pretty good price for the mine.'" "'Yes, they're trading on her reputation, but that's all past. The mine is practically worked out. They've made a few good strikes lately, so that there won't be too much trouble." "'Oh, no, Parkinson's said he was a friend of his, just taking the trip for his health.'" Darrell smiled quietly, knowing Hunter to be a member of the syndicate employing Parkinson, but kept his knowledge to himself. A little later, when Darrell and Whitcomb left together for the dining-car, he said there wasn't enough ore in the mine to keep their for the dining-car. Quite a friendship had sprung up between them. There is that mutual attraction often observed between two natures utterly diverse. Whitcomb was unaccountably drawn towards the dark-eyed, courteous, but rather reticent stranger, while his own frank friendliness and childlike confidence awoken Darrell's nature, a correlative tenderness, an affection which he never would have believed himself capable of feeling towards one of his own sex. "'What is the matter with me?' said Darrell, as he seated himself at a table facing Whitcomb. My head seems to have a small sized stamp mill inside of it. Every bone in my body aches and my joints feel as though they were being pulled apart." Whitcomb looked up quickly. "'Are you just from the east or have you been out here any time?' I stopped for a few days back here a ways. "'In the mountain country?' "'But George, I believe you've got the mountain fever. There's an awful lot of it round here this season, and this is just the worst time of year for an easterner to come out here. But we'll look after you when we get to Ophir and bring you round all right.' Much obliged, but I think I'll be all right after a night's rest,' Darrell replied, inwardly resolved, upon reaching Ophir, to push onto the Ajax as quickly as possible. When they left the dining-car, the train was stopping at a small station, and for a few moments the young men strolled up and down the platform. A dense, blueish- gray haze hung low over the country, rendering the outlines of even the nearest objects obscure and dim. The western sky was like burnished copper, and the sun, poised a little above the horizon, looked like a man whose peculiar actions he had noticed earlier, leave the telegraph office and jump hastily aboard. Calling Whitcomb's attention as he passed them, he related his observations of the afternoon and cautioned him against the man. For an instant Whitcomb looked serious. I suppose it was rather indiscreet in me to talk as I did, he said, but it can't be helped now. However, I guess it's all right, but I'm obliged to you all the past into the smoker, where Darrell was introduced to Hunter and Parkinson. In a short time, however, he found himself suffering from nausea and growing faint and dizzy. Gentlemen, he said, you will have to excuse me. I'm rather off my base this evening, and I find that smoking isn't doing me any good. As he rose, young Whitcomb springed instantly to his feet. Throwing away his cigar and linking his arm within Darrell's, he insisted upon returning to the sleeper, not with standing his protests. Good night, Parkinson, he called cheerily. See you in the morning! He accompanied Darrell to his section, then dropped familiarly into the seat beside him, throwing one arm affectionately over Darrell's shoulder, and during the next hour, while the sunset glow faded and the evening shadows deepened, he confided to this acquaintance of only a few hours, the outlines of his past life and his hopes and plans for the future. He spoke of his orphaned boyhood, of the uncle who had given him a home and his family and initiated him into his own business methods, of his hope of being admitted at no distant day into partnership with his uncle and becoming a shareholder in the wonderful birdmine. But that isn't all I am looking forward to, he said in conclusion, his boyish tones growing strangely deep and tender. My fondest hope of all I hardly dare admit even to myself, and I don't know why I am speaking of it to you, except that I already like you and trust you as I never did any other man, but you will understand what I mean when you see my cousin, Kate Underwood. He paused, but his silence was more eloquent to Darrell than words. The latter grasped his hand warmly in token that he understood. I wish you all that you hope for, he said. A few moments later Whitcombe spoke with his usual impetuosity. What am I thinking of keeping you up in this way when you are sick and dead tired? You would better turn in and get all the rest you can. And when we reach Ophir tomorrow just remember, my dear fellow, that no hotels go. You'll go directly home with me, where you'll find yourself in such good hands you'll think sure you're in your own home and we'll soon have you all right. For hours Darrell tossed wearily, unable to sleep. His head throbbed wildly. The racking pain throughout his frame increased while a raging fire seemed creeping through his veins. Not until long past midnight that he'd fallen to a fitful sleep strange fancies surged through his fevered brain, torturing him with their endless repetition, their seeming reality. Suddenly he awoke, bewildered, exhausted, oppressed by a vague sense of impending evil. End of chapter 1 Chapter 2 of At The Time Appointed This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Rose A. At The Time Appointed by A. Maynard Barber Chapter 2 A Knight's Work For a few seconds Darrell tried vainly to recall what had awakened him. Low, confused sounds occasionally reached his ears, but they seemed part of his own troubled dreams. The heat was intolerable. He raised himself to the open window that he might get a breath of cooler air. His head whirled, but the half-sitting posture seemed to clear his brain and he recalled his surroundings. At once he became conscious that the train was not in motion. Yet no sound of trainman's voices came through the open window. All was dead silence and the vague, haunting sense of impending danger quickened. Suddenly he heard a muttered oath in one of the sections, followed by an order, low but peremptory. No noise, hand over and be quick about it. Instantly Darrell comprehended the situation. Peering cautiously between the curtains, he saw, at the forward end of the sleeper, a masked man with a revolver in each hand, while the mirror behind him revealed another figure at the rear, masked and armed in like manner. He heard another order. The man was doing his work swiftly. He thought at once of young Whitcomb, but no sound came from the opposite section and he sank quietly back upon his pillow. A moment later the curtains were quickly thrust aside, the muzzle of a revolver confronted Darrell and the same low voice demanded, hand out your valuables. A man of medium height, wearing a mask and full beard stood over him. Darrell quietly handed over his watch and purse, noting as he did so the man's hands, white, well-formed, well-kept. He half expected a further demand, as the purse contained only a few small bills and some change, the bulk of his money being secreted about the mattress, as was his habit. But the man turned with peculiar to the opposite section, as one who had a definite object in view and was in haste to accomplish it. Darrell, his faculty's alert, observed that the section in front of Whitcomb's was empty. He recalled the actions of its occupant on the proceeding afternoon, his business later at the telegraph office, and the whole scheme flashed vividly before his mind. The man had been a spy sent out by the band now holding the train, and Whitcomb's money was, without doubt, the particular object of the hold-up. Whitcomb was asleep at the farther side of the berth, leaning slightly towards him the man shook him, and his first words confirmed Darrell's intuitions. Hand over that money, young man, and know fuss about it, either. Whitcomb, instantly awake, gazed at the mask's face without a word or movement. Darrell, powerless to aid his friend, watched intently dreading some rash act on his part, to which his impetuous nature might prompt him. Again he heard the low tones, this time a note of danger in them. No fooling. Hand that money over, lively. With a spring, as sudden and noiseless as a panthers, Whitcomb grappled with the man, knocking the revolver from his hand upon the bed. A quick, desperate, silent struggle followed. Whitcomb suddenly reached for the revolver. As he did so, Darrell saw a flash of steel in the dim light, and the next instant his friend sank, limp and motionless, upon the bed. Fool, he heard the man mutter, with an oath. An involuntary groan escaped from Darrell's lips. Slight as was the sound, the man heard it, and turned, facing him. The latter was screened by the curtains, and the man, with no one, returned to his work. But that brief glance had revealed enough to Darrell that he knew he could henceforth identify the murderer among a thousand. In the struggle the mask had been partially pushed aside, exposing a portion of the man's face. A scar of peculiar shape showed white against the olive skin, close to the curling black hair. But to Darrell the pre-eminently distinguishing characteristic of that face was the eyes. The perfect steel blue he had ever seen, they seemed, as they turned upon him in that intense glance to glint and scintillate like the points of two rapiers in a brilliant swordplay. While their look of concentrated fury and malignity, more demon-like than human, was stamped inefficibly upon his brain. Having secured as much as he could find of the money, the murderer left hastily and silently, and a few moments later the guards, after a warning to the passengers not to leave their births, took their departure. Having partially dressed Darrell at once sprang across the aisle and took Whitcomb's limp form in his arms. His heart still beat faintly, but he was unconscious and bleeding profusely. All had been done so silently and swiftly that no one outside of Darrell dreamed of murder, and soon the enforced silence began to be broken by hurried questions and angry exclamations. A man cursed over the loss of his money, and a woman sobbed hysterically. Suddenly Darrell's incisive tones rang through the sleeper. For God's sake, see if there is a surgeon aboard. Here is a man stabbed, dying. Don't stop to talk of money when a life is at stake. Instantly all thought of personal loss was for the time forgotten, and half a dozen of Darrell's appeal. When it became known throughout the train what had occurred, the greatest excitement followed. Train officials hurrying back and forth stopped, hushed and horror-stricken beside the section where Darrell sat holding Whitcomb in his arms. Passengers from the other coaches crowded in, eager to offer assistance that was of no avail. A physician was found and came quickly to the scene, who, after a brief examination, silently shook his head, and Darrell, watching the weakening pulse and shortening gasps, needed no words to tell him that the young life was ebbing fast. Just as the faint respirations had become almost imperceptible, Whitcomb opened his eyes, looking straight into Darrell's eyes with eager intensity. His face lighted with the winning smile which Darrell had already learned to love. His lips moved. Darrell bent his head still lower to listen. Kate, you will see her, he whispered, tell her but the sentence was never finished. Deftly and gently as a woman Darrell did the little which remained to be done for his young friend, closing the eyes in which the love-light kindled by his dying words still lingered, smoothing the disheveled golden hair, wondering within himself at his own unwanted tenderness. An awful pity for a bright young life to go out like that, said a voice at his side, and, turning, he saw Parkinson. How did it happen? the latter inquired, recognizing Darrell for the first time in the dim light. Briefly Darrell gave the main facts as he had witnessed them, saying nothing, however, of his having seen the face of the murderer. Two bads had Parkinson. He ought never to have made a bluff of that sort. There were too many odds against him. He was impulsive and acted on the spur of the moment, Darrell replied, adding in lower tones. The mistake was in giving one so young and inexperienced a commission involving so much responsibility and danger. You knew of the money then? Yes, that was bad business for him, poor fellow. I wonder, by the way, if it was all taken. At Darrell's suggestion a thorough search was made which resulted in the finding of a package containing fifteen thousand dollars which the thief in his haste had evidently overlooked. This, it was agreed, should be placed in Darrell's keeping until the arrival of the train in Ophir. Gradually the crowd dispersed most of the passengers returning to their births. Darrell, knowing that sleep for himself was out of the question, sought an empty section in another part of the car and, seating himself, bowed his head upon his hands. The veins in his temples seemed near bursting and his usually strong nerves quivered from the shock he had undergone, but of this he was scarcely conscious. His mind, abnormally active, for the time held his physical sufferings in abeyance. He was living over again the events of the past few hours, events which had awakened within him susceptibilities he had not known he possessed, which had struck a new chord in his being whose vibrations thrilled him with strange, undefinable pain. As he recalled Whitcomb's affectionate familiarity, he seemed to hear again the low musical cadences of the boyish tones to see the sunny radiance of his smile, to feel the irresistible magnetism of his presence, and it seemed as though something inexpressably sweet, of whose sweetness he had barely tasted, had suddenly dropped out of his life. His heart grew sick with bitter sorrow as he recalled the look of mingled appeal and trust which shot from Whitcomb's eyes into his own as his young life, so full of hope, of ambition, of love, was passing through the dim portals of an unknown world. Oh, the pity of it, that he, an acquaintance of but a few hours, should have been the only one to whom those eyes could turn for their last message of earthly love and sympathy. And oh, the impotency of any and all human love then! Never before had Darryl been brought so near the unseen, the unknown, always surrounding us but of which few of us are conscious. And for hours he sat motionless, lost in thought, grappling with problems hitherto unthought of, but which now perplexed and baffled him at every turn. At last, with a heavy sigh, he opened his eyes. The grey twilight of dawn was slowly creeping down from the mountaintops, dispelling the shadows, and the light of a new faith streaming downward from the beautiful eternal hills of God's unbeginning past was banishing the doubts which had assailed him. That night had brought to him the revelation of the awful solitude of a human soul standing alone on the threshold of two worlds, but it had also revealed to him the love, infinite, divine, that meets the soul when human love and sympathy are no longer of avail. Chapter 3 The Pines As the day advanced, Dero grew gradually but steadily worse. After the excitement of the night had passed, a reaction set in. He was utterly exhausted and miserable. The pain returned with redoubled violence, and the fever increased perceptibly from hour to hour. He was keenly observant of those about him and he could not but note how soon the tragedy of the preceding night seemed forgotten. Zombie moaned the loss of money or valuables, a few more fortunate related how they had outwitted the robbers and escaped with trivial loss. But only an occasional careless word of pity was heard for the young stranger who had met so sad a fate. So quickly and completely, as one human atom sink out of sight, it is like the dropping of a pebble in the sea, a momentary ripple that is all. About noon, Parkinson who had sought to wild away the tedium of the journey, by an interview with Dero became somewhat alarmed at the latter's condition and went in search of a physician. He returned with the one who had been summoned to Whitcombe's aid. He was an eastern practitioner and unfortunately for Dero was not so familiar with the peculiar symptoms in his case, as a western physician would have been. He has a high fever, he remarked to Parkinson a little later, as he seated himself beside Dero to watch the effect of the remedies administered. But I do not apprehend any danger. I've given him something to abate the fever and induce sleep. If necessary, I will write out a prescription which he can have filled on his arrival at Ophir. But I think in a few days he will be alright. They were now approaching the continental divide, the scenery moment by moment growing in the sublimity and grandeur. Dero soon sank into sleep, lightened broken at first which grew deeper and heavier. For more than an hour he slept unconscious at the rugged scenes through which he was then passing were to become part of his future life. That each cliff and crag and mountain peak was to be to him an open book whose secrets would leave their indelible impress upon his heart and brain, revealing to him the breadth and length, the depth and height of life, molding his soul anew into nobler more symmetrical proportions. At last the rock suddenly potted, like sentinels, making way for the approaching train, disclosing a broad sunlit plateau, from which rose in gracefully rounded contours a pine covered mountain about whose base nestled the city of Ophir while in the background stretched the majestic range of the great divide. A crowd could be seen congregated by the depot. For tidings of the night's tragedy had preceded the train by several hours and Whitcomb from his early bull hid had been a universal favorite in Ophir while his uncle was one of the wealthiest most influential citizens. As the train slackened speed, Parkinson, with a few words to the physician, hastily left to make arrangements for transportation for himself, Hunter and Daryl to the hotel. Amid the noise and confusion which ensued for the next ten minutes, Daryl slept heavily, till aroused by a gentle shake. He awoke to find the physician bending over him and heard voices approaching down the now nearly deserted sleeping car. Yes, said a voice, speaking rapidly. The conductor wild details. He said this young man did everything for the boy that could be done, stayed by him to the end. He did, stood by him like a brother, Parkinson's voice replied. The other man spoke once more and he is sick you say. Well, he won't want for anything that's in my power to give him. Parkinson stopped at Daryl's side. Mr. Daryl he said. This is Mr. Underwood. Whitcomb's uncle. You know, Mr. Underwood, Mr. Daryl. Daryl rose a little unsteadily. The two men grasped his hands and for an instant neither spoke. Daryl saw before him a tall, powerfully built man approaching 50 whose somewhat bronze face was shrewd, stern and unreadable and was lighted by a pair of blue eyes which had once resembled Whitcomb's. With a swift, penetrating glance the elder man looked searchingly into the face of the younger. True is steel with a heart of gold. Was his mental comment. Then he spoke abruptly. Mr. Daryl, my carriage is waiting for you outside. You will go home with me unless, he added inquirely, you are expecting to meet friends or acquaintances. No, Mr. Underwood, Daryl replied. I'm a stranger here. Much as I appreciate your kindness I think of intruding upon your home at such a time as this. Porter, said Mr. Underwood, with the air of one accustomed to command, take this gentleman's luggage outside and tell them out there that it is to go to the pines. My men are there and they will look after it. Then turning to Daryl he continued still more brusquely. This train pulls out in three minutes. So you better prepare to follow your luggage. You'll stop and know if you're outside my house and I don't think you'll travel much farther for a while. You'll look as though you needed a bed and good nursing more than anything just now. I have given him a prescription, sir, said the physician, that I think will set him right if he gets needed rest and sleep. Hmm, responded Mr. Underwood gruffly. He'll get whatever he needs. You can depend on that. You gentlemen assist him out of the car. I'll go and dispatch a messenger to the house. Have everything in readiness for him there. At the foot of the car steps Daryl parted from the physician and leaning on Parkinson's arm slowly made his way through the crowd to the carriage where Mr. Underwood awaited him. Mr. Underwood then helped the young man into the carriage. A spasm of pain crossed Daryl's face as he saw, just ahead of them waiting to proceed them on the homeward journey. A light wagon containing a stretcher covered with a heavy black cloth with the line of Starwood Fellows drawn up on either side. And he recalled Whitcomb's parting words on the previous night. When we reach Ophir tomorrow you'll go directly home with me. This was observed by Mr. Underwood who remarked a moment later as he seated himself beside Daryl and they started homeward. This is a sad time to introduce you to our home and household Mr. Daryl. But you will find your welcome nonetheless genuine on that account. Mr. Underwood said the young man in a troubled voice this seems to me the most unwarrantable intrusion on my part to accept your hospitality at such a time. Before he could say more Mr. Underwood placed a firm heavy hand on his knee. You stood by my poor boy Harry to the last and that is enough to ensure you a welcome from me and mine. What he was doing would Harry himself would do if he were here. As to what I did for your nephew God knows it was little enough I could do. Daryl answered bitterly I was powerless to defend him against the fatal blow and after that there was no help for him. Did you see him killed? Yes. Tell me all everything as it occurred. Mr. Underwood little knew the effect of this condition to go over the details of the terrible scene but Daryl forced himself to give a clear distinct calm statement of all that took place. The older man sat looking straight before him immovable impassive like one who heard not yet in reality missing nothing that was said. Not until Daryl repeated Wickham's dying words was there any movement on his part then he turned his head and was hidden and remained emotionless in silence just before at last he inquired did he leave no message for me? He mentioned only your daughter Mr. Underwood he evidently had some message for her but she was unable to give. Belong silence followed Daryl utterly exhausted sank back into a corner of the carriage the movement aroused Mr. Underwood he looked towards Daryl whose eyes were closed and was shocked at his deathly pallor he said nothing however but Daryl was again sinking into a heavy stupa but watched him with growing concern making no attempt to rouse him until the carriage left the street and began ascending a long gravel driveway then putting his hand on Daryl's shoulder he said quite loudly wake up boy we're getting home now Daryl sounded faint and far away like an echo out of a vast distance and it was some seconds before he could realize where he was or form any definite idea of his surroundings gradually he became conscious that there was no longer hot and stifling but cool and fragrant with a sweet resinous breath of the pines looking about him he saw that they were winding up a long avenue cut through a forest of small slender pines which extended below them on one side and far above them on the other a moment later they came out into a clearing once he could see rising directly before him a series of natural terraces upon one of the terraces of the mountain stood a massive house of unhewn granite a house representing no particular style of architecture but whose deep bay windows broad winding verandas and shadowy secluded balconies all combined to present an aspect most inviting to Daryl the place had an irresistible charm he gazed at it as though fascinated unable to take his eyes from the scene you certainly have a beautiful home Mr. Underwood he said at a most unique location I never saw anything quite like it it'll do he said quietly gratified by the look on his companion's face I built it for my little girl it was her own idea to have it that way and she has named it the pines thank god I've got her left yet though that's all I've got something in his tone caused Daryl to glance quickly towards him with a look of sympathetic inquiry they were now approaching the house and Mr. Underwood turned facing him a smile for the first time lighting up his stern rugged features as he said you'll find us where my little girl calls us a patched up family I'm a widower my widowed sister keeps the house for me and Harry whom I had grown up to consider almost a son was an orphan but the family such as it is will make you welcome and I can speak for that here we are with a supreme effort Daryl summoned all his energies as Mr. Underwood assisted him from the carriage and into the house with the ringing and pounding in his head increased his brain seemed reeling and he was so nearly blinded by the pain that notwithstanding his efforts he was forced to admit to himself as a little later he sank upon a couch and the room assigned to him that his impressions of the ladies to whom he had just been presented to were exceedingly vague Mr. Underwood's sister, Mrs. Dean he remembered as a large woman low voiced somewhat resembling her brother in manna and like him a few words yet something in her greeting had assured him of a welcome as deep as it was undemonstrative of Kate Underwood in whom he had felt more of a passing interest remembering Whitcomb's love for his cousin he recalled a tall slender girlish form a wealth of golden brown hair and a pair of large luminous brown eyes whose wistful almost a pilling look haunted him strangely though he was unable to recall another feature of her face Mr. Underwood who left the room to telephone for a physician returned with a faithful servant and insisted upon Daryl's retiring to bed without delay a proposition which the latter was only too glad to follow Daryl had already given Mr. Underwood the package of $15,000 found on the train and now while disrobing handed him the belt in which he carried his own money saying I'll put this in your keeping for a few days you know until I film like myself on the train I did lose some watch and some change but I took the liberty of having this hidden he stopped abruptly and seemed to be trying to recall something then continued slowly there was something else in connection with that affair which I wish to say to you but my head is so confused I cannot think of what it was don't try to think of it now it'll come to you by and by Mr. Underwood replied you're in good hands so don't worry yourself about anything but get through all the rest you can with a deep sigh of relief Daryl sank on the pillars and was soon sleeping heavily a few moments later Mr. Underwood coming from Daryl's room having left the servant in charge following down the long hall she beckoned and turning slowly we traced her steps her brother following to another part of the house where they entered a darkened chamber and together stood beside a low narrow couch strewn with fragrant flowers together without a word of tear the gaze on the peaceful face of this sleeper wrapped in the breathless streamless slumber we call death the last few years since he had come to them the dying bequest of the younger sister a little golden-haired prattler to fill the home with the music of his child's voice and the sunshine of his smile already the great house seemed strangely silent without his ringing laughter and his births of Mary's song but of whatever bitter grief stirred within their hearts this silent brother and sister so long accustomed to self-restraint and self-repression gave no sign gently she replaced the covering over the face of the sleeper and silently they left the room not until they again reached the door of Daryl's room was the silence broken then the brother said in low tones Marcia we've done all for the dead that can be done it's the living who needs our care now yes she replied quietly I was going to see what I could do for him when you put him to bed Bennett is in there now and I'm going downstairs to wait for Dr. Bradley he telephoned that he'd be up in 20 minutes very well I'll sit by him till the doctor comes when Dr. Bradley arrived he found Daryl in a state of coma from which he was almost impossible to arouse him from Mr. Underwood and his sister he learned whatever details they could furnish but from the patient himself very little information could be obtained he has this fever that is prevailing in the mountainous districts and he has it in its worst form he said when about to take leave of course having just come from the east it would be worse for him in any event than if he were acclimated aside from that the cerebral symptoms are greatly aggravated only to the nervous shock which he received last night to witness an occurrence of that sort would be more or less of a shock to nerves in a normal state but in the condition he was at the time it is likely to produce some serious complications follow these directions which I've written out and I'll be in again in a couple of hours but in two hours Daryl was delirious and since I was here Dr. Bradley inquired as he again stood beside the patient I don't think so I could hardly arouse him enough to give him the medicine and even then he didn't seem to know me I'll be in about midnight as he again took leave and I'll send a professional nurse this is likely to be a long siege send whatever is needed said Mr. Underwood brusquely and Mrs. Dean to have a lucid interval you had better ascertain the address of his friends it was nearly midnight for hours Daryl had battled against the darkening shadows fast setting down upon him enveloping him with a horror worse than death itself suddenly there was a rift of clouds and the calm sweet light of reason stole softly through he felt a cool hand upon his forehead and opening his eyes looked with a smile into the face of Mrs. Dean as she bent over him bending still lower she said in low distinct tones can you tell me the name of your people and where they live in an instant he comprehended all that her question implied he must give his own name and the address of the far away eastern home he strove to recall it but the effort was too great before he could speak the clouds searched together and all was blotted out into the darkness this is the end of Chapter 3 Chapter 4 of At The Time Appointed this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recording by Amy Graymore At The Time Appointed by A. Maynard Barber Chapter 4 Life or Death hour by hour the clouds thickened closing the avenues of sight and sound until isolated from the outer world by this intangible yet impenetrable barrier Darrell was alone in a world peopled only with the phantoms of his imagination of the lapse of time of the weary procession of days and nights which followed he knew nothing day and night were to him only an endless repetition of the horrors which thronged his fevered brain again and again he lived over the tragic scene in the sleeping car each iteration and reiteration dreadful realism until it was he himself who grappled in deadly contest with the murderer and the latter in turn became a monster whose hot breath stifled him whose malign demoniac glance seemed to sear his eyeballs like living fire over and over his failing strength he waged the unequal contest striving at last with a legion of hideous forms then as the clouds grew still more dense about him these shapes grew dim and he found himself weak and trembling adrift upon a sea of darkness whose black waves tossed him angrily with each breath threatening to engulf him in their gloomy depths desperately he battled with them each struggle leaving him weaker than the last until at length scarcely breathing his strength utterly exhausted he lay watching the towering forms as they swept relentlessly towards him gathering strength and fury as they came he saw the yawning abysses on each side he heard the roar of the oncoming waves but was powerless to move hand or foot as he waded in helpless terror the waves on which he tossed to and fro grew calm then they seemed to divide and he felt himself going down down into infinite depths the sullen roar died away the darkness was flooded with golden light and through its ethereal waves he was still floating downward more gently than ever a rose leaf floated to earth on the evening's breath through the waves of golden light there came to him a faint distant murmur of voices in the words of a terrific content wondering dreamily if it would never end then consciousness was lost in utter oblivion three weeks had elapsed since Daryl came to the pines August had given place to September but the languorous days brought no secession of the fearful heat no cooling rain to the panting earth no promise of renewed life to the drought smitten vegetation the timber on the ranges had been reduced to masses of charred and smoldering embers among which the low flames still crept and crawled winding their way up and down the mountains the pall of smoke overhanging the city grew more and more dense until there came a morning wind as the sun looked over the distant ranges the landscape was suffused with a dull red glare which steadily deepened until all objects assumed a blood red hue two or three hours passed and then a lurid light allumed the strange scene brightening moment by moment till earth and sky glowed like a mass of molten copper the heat seemed to concentrate upon that part of the earth's surface the air grew oppressive and an ominous silence reigned in which even the birds were hushed and the dumb brutes cowered beside their masters as the brazen glow was fading to a weird yellow light an anxious group was gathered about Daryl's bedside he still tossed and moaned in delirium but his movements had grown pathetically feeble and the moans were those of a tired child sobbing himself to sleep he could not hold out much longer said Dr. Bradley his drinking pulse his strength is failing rapidly there will be a change soon one way or the other said the nurse and there's not much of a chance left him now one chance and a hundred said Dr. Bradley slowly and that is his wonderful constitution he may pull through where 99 others would die Dr. Bradley watched the sick man in silence then noting that the room was darkening he stepped to an open window and cast a look of anxious inquiry at the murky sky as if an answer to his thought no rumble of distant thunder bringing a look of relief and hopefulness to the face of the physician returning to the bedside he gave a few directions then as he was leaving remarked there will be a change in the weather soon a change that may help to turn the tide in his favor provided it does not come too late hours passed the distant mutterings grew louder while the darkness and gloom increased and the sense of oppression became almost intolerable suddenly the leaden mass appeared to drop to earth and in the dead silence which followed could be heard the roar of wind through the gorges and down the canyons a moment more in the clouds of dust and debris the outriders of the coming tempest brushed madly through the streets and whirling columns towering far above the city from their vantage ground the dwellers at the pines watched the course of the storm but only for a moment then blinding sheets of water hid even the nearest objects from view while lightnings flashed incessantly and the thunder crashed and rolled in one ceaseless deafening roar the trees waved their arms in wild helpless terror as one and another of their number were prostrated by the storm while the dry channels on the mountainside became raging foaming torrents suddenly the winds changed chilling blast swept across the plateau into the rush of the wind the roar of the thunder and the crash of falling timber was added the sharps to cattle of swiftly descending hail the storm raged in its fury then depotted as suddenly as it came but it left behind a clear atmosphere crisp as an October morning as the storm clouds touched with beauty by the rays of the setting sun were settling below the eastern ranges Dr. Bradley again entered the sick room the room was flooded with golden light and the physician was quick to note the changes which the few hours had wrought in the sick man the fever had gone and his strength spent his splendid energies exhausted were ebbing moment by moment he is sinking fast said Mrs. Dean even as she spoke a smile stole over the pallid features then as they watched eagerly for some token of returning consciousness the nervous system so long strange to its utmost tension suddenly relaxed and utter collapse followed for hours Daryl lay as one dead an occasional fluttering about the heart being the only sign of life but late in the forenoon of the following day the watchers by the bedside noting each feeble pulsation thinking it might be the last felt an almost imperceptible quickening of the life current gradually the fluttering pulse grew calm and steady the faint respirations grew deeper and more regular until at length with a long tremulous sigh Daryl sank into slumber sweet and restful as a child and the watchers knew that the crisis had passed End of Chapter 4 Chapter 5 of At the Time Appointed This is a LibriVox recording All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Recording done by Jules Hurlick of Mississauga, Ontario, Canada At the time appointed by A. Maynard Arbor Chapter 5 John Britton It was on one of those glorious October days when every breath quickens the blood and when simply to live is a joy unspeakable that Daryl first walked abroad into the outdoor world several times during his convalescence he had sunned himself on the balcony opening from his room or when able to go downstairs he faced feebly up and down the verandas but of late his strength had returned rapidly so that now accompanied by his physician he was walking back and forth over the gravel driveway under the pine trees his steps gaining firmness with every turn seated on the veranda were Mr. Underwood and his sister the one with his pipe and newspaper but the newspaper had slipped unheeded to the floor and though Mrs. Deans skillful fingers did not slack in their work for an instance yet her eyes like her brothers were fastened upon Daryl and a shade of pity might have been detected in the look of each which the occasion at first sight hardly seemed to warrant poor fellow said Mr. Underwood at length it's hard for a young man to be handicapped like that yes ascended his sister and he takes it hard too though he doesn't say much I can't bear to look in his eyes sometimes they look sort of pleading and helpless takes it hard reiterated Mr. Underwood why shouldn't he I'm satisfied that he is a young man of unusual ability who had a bright future before him and I tell you Marcia it's pretty hard for him to wake up and find it all rubbed off the slate well said Mrs. Dean with a sigh everybody has to carry their own burdens but there's a look on his face when he thinks nobody sees him that makes me wish I could help him carry his though I don't suppose anybody can for that matter it isn't anything that anybody feels like saying much about I'm glad Jack is coming said Mr. Underwood after a pause he may do him some good he has a way of getting at those things that you and I haven't Marcia yes he's seen trouble himself though nobody knows what it was notwithstanding the tide of returning vitality was fast restoring tissue and muscle to daryl's wasted limbs and firmness and elasticity to his step it was yet evident to a close observer that some undercurrent of suffering was doing its work day by day sprinkling the dark hair with gleams of silver tracing faint lines in the face hitherto untouched by care working its subtle mysterious changes when a new lease of life was granted to John Daryl and he awoke to consciousness it was to find that every detail of his past life had been blotted out leaving only a blank of his home his friends of his own name even not a vestige of memory was left it was as though he had entered upon a new existence by degrees as he was able to hear them he was given the details of his arrival at Ophir of his coming to the pines of the tragedy which he had witnessed in Kark but they awoke no memories in his mind for him there was no past as a realization of his condition dawned upon him his mental distress was pitiful despite the efforts of a physician and nurse to divert his mind he would lie for hours trying to recall some fragment from the veiled and shrouded past but all in vain yet with returning physical strength many of his former attainments seemed to return to him naturally and without effort Dr. Bradley one day used a Latin phrase in his hearing he had once repeated it and without a moment's hesitation gave the correct rendering but was unable to tell how he did it it simply came to me was all the explanation he could give from this the physician argued that the memory of his past life would sooner or later return and it was this hope alone which at that time saved Darrell from total despair aside from his professional interest in so peculiar a case Dr. Bradley had become interested in Darrell himself many of his leisure hours were spent at the pines and quite a friendship existed between the two in Mr. Underwood and his sister Darrell had found two steadfast friends each seeming to vie with the other in thoughtful unobtrusive kindness his strange misfortune had only deepened and intensified the sympathy which had been first aroused by the peculiar circumstances under which he had come to them but now as then they said little and for this Darrell was grateful even the silent pity which he read in their eyes hurt him why he could scarcely explain to himself expressed in words it would have been intolerable early in his convalescence Darrell had expressed an unwillingness to trespass upon their kindness by remaining after he could with safety be moved but the few words they had spoken on that occasion had effectually silenced any further suggestion of the kind on his part he understood that to leave them would be to forfeit their friendship which he well knew was a sort too rare to be slighted or thrown aside of Kate Underwood Darrell knew nothing except as her father or aunt spoke of her for he had no recollection of her and she had left home early in his illness to return to an eastern college from which she would graduate the following year with more animation than he had yet shown since his illness Darrell returned to the veranda he was flushed and trembling slightly from the unusual exertion and Dr. Bradley dropping down beside him from force of habit laid his fingers on Darrell's wrist but the latter shook them off playfully no more of that he exclaimed adding doctor I challenge you for a race two weeks from today what do you say do you take me up two weeks from today repeated the doctor with an incredulous smile at the same time scrutinizing Darrell's form well yes when you are in ordinary health I don't think I would care to do much business on that line but two weeks from today is a safe proposition I guess what do you want to make it 100 yards he inquired with a laughing glance at Mr. Underwood 100 yards replied Darrell following the direction of the doctor's glance do you want to name the winner Mr. Underwood I'll back you my boy said the elder man quietly his shrewd face and a trifle shrewder what exclaimed doctor badly rising hastily I guess it's about time I was going if that's your estimate of my athletic prowess and shaking hands with Darrell he started down the driveway I'll put you up at about 10 to 1 Mr. Underwood called after the retreating figure but the deprecatory wave of his hand over his shoulder was the doctor's only reply oh exclaimed Darrell looking about him this is glorious this is one of the days that makes a fellow feel that life is worth living even as he spoke there came to his mind the thought of what life meant to him and the smile died from his lips and the light from his eyes for a moment nothing was said then with the approaching sound of rhythmic hoof beats Mr. Underwood rose deliberately emptying the ashes from his pipe as a fair pair of black horses attached to a light carriage appeared around the house from the direction of the stables you will be back for lunch David Mrs. Dean inquired yes and I will bring Jack with me was his reply as he seated himself beside the driver and the horses started at a brisk trot down the driveway with a smile Mrs. Dean addressed Darrell who was watching the horses with a keen appreciation of their good points this Jack that you've heard my brother speak of is his partner yes said Darrell courteously feeling slight interest in the expected guest but glad of anything to divert his thoughts yes Mrs. Dean continued they've been partners and friends for more than ten years his name is John Britain but it's never anything but Dave and Jack between the two they're almost like two boys together Darrell wondered what manner of man this might be who could transform his silent stern faced host into anything boy like but he said nothing to see them together you'd wonder at their friendship to continued Mrs. Dean for there are no ways alike my brother is all business and Mr. Britain is not what you'd really call a practical businessman he is very rich for he is one of those men that everything they touch seems to turn to gold but he doesn't seem to care much about money he spends a great deal of his time in reading and studying and though he makes very few friends he could have any number of them if he wanted for he is one of those people that you always feel drawn to without knowing why Mrs. Dean paused to count the stitches in her work and Darrell whose thoughts were of the speaker more than of the subject of conversation watching her placid face wondered whether it were possible for any emotion ever to disturb that comic exterior presently she resumed her subject speaking in low even tones with a slight gentle inflection now and then just saved from monotony he's always a friend to anybody in distress and I guess there isn't a poor person or a friendless person an opfer that doesn't know him and love him he has had some great trouble nobody knows what it is but he told David once that it changed his whole life Darrell now became interested and the dark eyes fixed on Mrs. Dean's face grew suddenly luminous with the quick sympathy her words had aroused he always seems to be on the lookout for anybody that has troubled to help them that's how he got to know my brother Mrs. Dean hesitated a moment I never spoke of this to anyone before but I thought maybe you would be interested to know about it she said looking at Darrell with a slightly apologetic air I am and I think I understand and appreciate your motive was this quiet reply she dropped her work folding her hands above it and her face wore a reminiscent look as she continued when David's wife died 12 years ago it was an awful blow to him he didn't say watch that isn't our way but we were afraid he would never be the same again his brother was out here at that time but none of us could do anything for him he kept on trying to attend to business just as usual but he seemed as you might say to have lost his grip on things it went on that way for nearly two years his business got behind and everything seemed to be slipping through his fingers he happened to get acquainted with Mr. Britain and he seemed to know just what to say and do he got David interested in business again he loaned him money to start with and they went into business together and have been together ever since they have both been successful but David has worked and planned for what he has while Mr. Britain's money seems to come to him he owns property all over the state through the west for that matter and sometimes he's in one place and sometimes in another but he never stays very long anywhere David would like to have him make his home with us but he told him once that he couldn't think of it that he only stayed in a place till the pain got to be more than he could bear and then he went somewhere else a long silence followed then as Mrs. Dean folded her work she said softly it's no wonder he knows just how to help folks who are in trouble for I guess he has suffered himself more than anybody knows a little later she had gone indoors to superintend the preparations for lunch but Daryl still sat in the mellow autumn sunlight his eyes closed picturing to himself this stranger silently wearing his hidden burden changing from place to place but always keeping the pain it still lacked two hours of sunset when John Daryl leaning on the arm of John Britain walked slowly up the mountain path to a rustic seat under the pines they had met at lunch Mr. Britain had already heard the strange story of Daryl's illness looking into his eyes with their troubled questioning their piteous appeal knew at once by swift intuition how hopelessly bewildering and dark life must look to the young man before him just at the age when it usually is brightest and most alluring and Daryl meeting the steadfast gaze of the clear grey eyes saw there no pity but something infinitely broader and new intuitively that they were united by the fellowship of suffering that mysterious tie which had not only bound human hearts together in all ages but has linked suffering humanity with suffering divinity for more than two hours Daryl taking little part himself in the general conversation had watched as one entranced the play of the fine features and listened to the deep musical voice of this stranger who was a stranger no longer he was an excellent conversationalist humorous without being cynical scholarly without being pedantic and showing a special familiarity with history and the natural sciences have last while walking up and down the broad veranda Mr. Britain had paused beside Daryl and throwing an arm over his shoulder had said come my son let us have a little stroll Daryl's heart had leaped strangely at the words he knew not why and in a silence pregnant with deep emotions on both sides they had climbed to the rustic bench here they sat down the ground at their feet was carpeted with pine needles the sweet with the fragrance of pines and the warm earth no sound reached their ears aside from the chirping of the crickets the occasional dropping of a pine cone or the gentle sighing of the light breeze through the branches above their heads a glorious scene lay outspread before them the distant ranges half veiled in purple haze the valleys flooded with golden tunnel tenths of decidious timber which marked the course of numerous small streams and over the whole arrestful silence as though the years work ended earth was keeping some grand solemn holiday Mr. Britain first broke the silence as in low tones he murmured reverently thou crownest the year with thy goodness returning to Daryl with a smile of peculiar sweetness he said this is one of what I call the year's coronation days when even nature herself rests from her labors and dawns her royal robes in honor of the occasion then as an answering light dawned in Daryl's eyes and the tense lines in his face began to relax Mr. Britain continued I have often wondered why we do not imitate nature in her great annual holiday and why we a nation who garners one of the richest harvests of the world do not have a national harvest festival how effectively and fittingly for instance something similar to the old Jewish feast of tabernacles might be celebrated in this part of the country the earliest days of their history the Jews were commanded when the year's harvest had been gathered to take the boughs of goodly trees of palm trees and willows and to construct booths in which they were to dwell feasting and rejoicing for seven days in the only account given of one of these feasts we read that the people brought all of branches and made themselves booths upon the roofs of their houses in their courts and in their streets and dwelled in them and there was very great gladness imagine such a scene on these mountain slopes and foothills under these cloudless skies the somber evergreen boughs interwoven with the brightly colored foliage from the lowlands this mellow golden sunlight day alternating with the white mystical radiance of the harvest moon by night Mr. Britton's words had, as he intended they should, drawn Daryl's thoughts from himself under his graphic description accompanied by the powerful magnetism of his voice and presence Daryl seemed to see the oriental festival which he had depicted the soothing influence from the very simplicity and beauty of the imaginary scene Think of the rest the relaxation in a week of such a life continued Mr. Britton recreation in the true sense of the word the simplest joys are the sweetest but our lives have grown too complex for us to appreciate them our amusements and recreations as we call them are often more wearing and exhausting than our labors for nearly an hour Mr. Britton led the conversation on general subjects carefully avoiding every personal illusion Daryl, following interested, animated wondering more and more at the man beside him until the latter tactfully led him to speak calmly and dispassionately he could not have spoken an hour before of himself almost before he was aware Daryl had told all of his vain gropings in the darkness for some clue to the past of the helpless feeling akin to despair which sometimes took possession of him when he attempted to face the situation continuously confronting him During his recital he had thrown his arm about Daryl's shoulder and when he paused quite a silence followed Did it ever occur to you Mr. Britton said at length speaking very slowly that there are hundreds, yes thousands, who would be only too glad to exchange places with you today No, Daryl replied too greatly astonished to say more but there are legions of poor souls haunted by crime or crushed beneath the weight of sorrow whose one prayer would be if such a thing were possible that their past might be blotted out, that they might be free to begin life anew with no memories dogging their steps like specters threatening at every turn to work their undoing For a moment Daryl'd regarded his friend with a fixed inquiring gaze which gradually changed his comprehension I see he said at length I have got to begin life anew but you consider that there are others who have to make this start under conditions worse than mine Far worse said Mr. Britton Don't think for a moment that I fail to realize in how many ways you are handicapped or to appreciate the obstacles against which you will have to contend but this I do say the future is in your own hands as much as it is in the hands of any mortal to make the most of and the best of that you can and with a negative advantage at least that you are untrammeled by a past that can hold you back or drag you down The younger man laid his hand on the knee of the elder with a gesture almost appealing the future until now had looked very dark to me it begins to look brighter advise me tell me how best to begin in one word said Mr. Britton with a smile work just as soon as you are able find some work to do did we but know it work is the surest antidote for the poisonous discontent and the onwe of this world the swiftest panacea for its pains and miseries different forms to suit different cases but every form brings healing and blessing even down to the humblest manual labor that is just what I have wanted said Daryl eagerly to go to work as soon as possible but what can I do what am I fitted for I have not the slightest idea I don't care to work at breaking stone though I suppose that would be better than nothing that would be better than nothing said Mr. Britton smiling again but that would not be suited to your case what you need is mental work something to keep your mind constantly occupied and rest assured you will find it when you are ready for it our father provides what we need just when we need it day by day we have the daily bread for and spiritual life as for temporal but what you most want to do is to keep your mind pleasantly occupied and above all things don't try to recall the past in God's own good time it will return of itself and when it does what revelations will it bring Daryl queried musingly nothing that you will be afraid or ashamed to meet of that I am sure said Mr. Britton confidently adding a moment later in a lighter tone it is nearing sunset my boy and time that I was taking you back to the house you have given me a new courage new hope said Daryl rising I feel now as though there were something to live for as though I might make something out of life after all I realize that Mr. Britton tenderly as together they began the descent of the mountain path as deeply as you do that your life is sadly disjointed but strive so to live that when the broken fragments are at last united they will form one harmonious and symmetrical whole it is a difficult task I know but the result will be well worth the effort in your case my son ordinary lives the words of the poet are peculiarly applicable a sacred burden in this life you bear look on it lift it bear it solemnly stand up and walk beneath it steadfastedly fail not for sorrow falter not for sin but onward upward till the goal you win an hour later John Britton stood alone on one of the mountain terraces his tall, lithe form silhouetted against the evening sky his arms folded his face lifted upward it was the face of marvelous strength and sweetness combined sorrow had set its unmistakable seal upon his features here and there pain had traced its ineffacible lines but the firmly set mouth was yet inexpressibly tender the calm brow was unfurled and the clear eyes had the far-seeing look of one who, like the alpine traveler, had reached the heights above the clouds to whose vision were revealed glories undreamed of by the dwellers in the veils below and to Daryl watching from his room the distant figure outlined against the sky the simple grandeur of triumph of its pose must have brought some revelation concerning this man of whom he knew so little yet whose personality even more than his words had taken so firm a hold upon himself for as the light faded and the deepening twilight hid the solitary figure from view he turned from the window and pacing slowly up and down the room soliloquized with him for a friend I can meet the future with courage and await with patience the resurrection of the buried past as he had conquered so will I conquer I will scale the heights after him until I stand where he stands tonight end of chapter 5 chapter 6 of at the time appointed this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recording done by Jules Harlech of Mississauga, Ontario Canada at the time appointed by A. Maynard Barbour chapter 6 echoes from the past during his stay at the pines Mr. Britton spent the great portion of his time with Mr. Underwood either at their offices or at the mines Darrell therefore saw a little of his newfound friend except as they all gathered in the evening around the glowing fire in the large family's sitting room for notwithstanding the lingering warmth and sunshine the days the nights were becoming sharp and frosty so that an open fire added much to the evening's enjoyment each morning however before his departure Mr. Britton stopped for a few words with Darrell some quaint kindly bit of humor the pleasant flavour of which would enliven the entire day some unhackneyed expression of sympathy whose very kindness and sincerity made Darrell's position seem to him less isolated and solitary than before or some suggestion which acted upon relieved the monotony of the tedious hours of convalescence at his suggestion Darrell took vigorous exercise each day in the morning air and sunshine devoting his afternoons reading if you're going to work said Mr. Britton the first requisite is to have your body and mind in just as helpful and normal a condition as possible in order that you may be able to give an equivalent for what you receive in these days of trouble between employer and employed we hear a great deal about the labourer demanding an honest but it does not occur to him to inquire whether he is giving his employer an honest equivalent for his money the fact is a large percentage of working men and working women in all departments of labour are squandering their energies night after night in various forms and degrees of dissipation until they are utterly incapacitated for one honest day's work we do not hesitate to take a full day's wages and would consider themselves wronged where the smallest fraction withheld Darrell found himself rather restricted in his reading for the first few days as he found but a limited number of books at the pines until Mrs. Dean who had received a hint from Mr. Britton meeting him one day in the upper hall led him into two darkened rooms saying as she hastened to open the blinds these are what the children always called their dens all their books are here and I thought maybe you'd like to look them over if you see anything you like just help yourself and use the rooms for reading or writing whenever you want to Darrell left to himself looked about him with much interest the two rooms were similar in style and design but otherwise were as diverse as possible the room in which he was standing was furnished with an embossed leather a leather couch stood near one of the windows and a large reclining chair of the same material was drawn up before the fireplace near the mantel was a pipe rack filled with fine specimens of brayer wood and mirsham pipes signs of tennis and various athletic sports were visible on all sides in the center of the room stood a large roll-top desk open and on it lay a brayer pipe filled with ashes just where the owner's hand had laid it but what most interested Darrell was a large portrait over the fireplace which he knew must be that of Harry Whitcomb the face was neither especially fine nor strong but the winsome smile lurking above the curves of the sensitive mouth and in the depths of the frank blue eyes rendered it attractive and it was with a sigh for the young life so suddenly blotted out that Darrell turned to enter the second room he paused at the doorway feeling decidedly out of place and glanced about him with a serial comic smile the furnishings were as unique as possible no one piece in the room bearing any relation or similarity to any other piece there were chairs and tables of wicker work twisted into the most ornate designs interspersed among heavy antique pieces of carving and slender specimens of colonial simplicity devans covered with pillows of every delicate shade imaginable exquisite etchings and dainty bric-a-brac in an alcove formed by a large bay window stood a writing desk of ebony inlaid with mother of pearl and on an easel in a secluded corner partially concealed by silk and draperies was the portrait of Kate Underwood a childish rather immature face but with a mouth indicating sweetness and strength of character and with dark, strangely appealing eyes the walls of both rooms were lined with bookcases but their contents were widely diverse and to Daryl's surprise he found the young girl's library contained far the better class of books but even in their selection he observed the same peculiarity that he had noted in the etchings of the room there were few complete sets of books instead there were one, two or three volumes of each author as the case might be evidently her special favorites but Daryl returned to the other room which interested him far more each article in it bearing eloquent testimony to the happy young life of whose tragic now often heard but of which he was unable to recall the faintest memory passing slowly through the room his attention was caught by a violin case standing in an out of the way corner with a cry of joy he drew it forth his fingers trembling with eagerness as he opened it and took there from a genuine strativarius at that moment his happiness overwhelmed seating himself and bending his head over the instrument after the manner of a true violent lover he drew the bow gently across the strings producing a chord of such triumphant sweetness that the air seemed vibrating with the joy which at that instant thrilled his own soul immediately all thought of himself or his surroundings with eyes half closed and dreamy he began to play without effort almost mechanically but with the death touch of a master hand while liquid harmonies filled the room quivering rising falling at times low plaintiff despairing then swelling exultantly only to die away in tremulous minor undertones the man's pent up feelings had at last found expression his alternate hope and despair his unutterable loneliness and longing all voiced by the violin of the lapse of time Darrell had neither thought nor consciousness until the door opened and Mrs. Deans calm smile and matter of fact voice recalled him to a material world I see that you found Harry's violin she said I beg your pardon Darrell stammered somewhat dazed by his sudden descent to the commonplace I ought not to have taken it I never thought I was so delighted to find the instrument and so carried away with its tones it never occurred to me how it might seem to you oh that's alright she interposed quietly use it whenever you like Harry bought it two years ago but he never had the patience to learn it so it has been used very little I never heard such playing as yours and I stepped in to ask you to bring it downstairs and play for us tonight Mr. Britton will be delighted he enjoys everything of that sort around the fireplace that evening Darrell had an attentive audience although the appreciation of his auditors was manifested in a manner characteristic of each Mr. Underwood after two or three futile attempts to talk business with his partner finding him very uncommunicative gave himself up to the enjoyment of his pipe and the music in about equal proportions indulging surreptitiously in occasional brief naps though always wide awake at the end of each number and joining heartily in the applause Mrs. Dean sat gazing into the glowing embers her face lighted with quiet pleasure but her knitting needles twinkled and flashed in the firelight with the same unceasing regularity and she doubled and seemed and slipped and bound her stitches with the same as on other evenings Mr. Britton in a comfortable reclining chair sat silent motionless his head thrown back his eyes nearly closed but in the varying expression of his mobile face Darrell found both inspiration and compensation for more than three hours Darrell entertained his friends quaint melodies, dreamy waltzes and bits of classical music following one after another with no effort, no hesitancy on the part of the player to their eager inquiries he could only answer I don't know how I do it they seem to come to me with a sweep of the bow across the strings I have no recollection of anything that I'm playing it seems as though the instrument and I were simply drifting late in the evening when they were nearly ready to separate for the night Darrell sat idly strumming the violin when an old familiar strain floated sweetly forth and his astonished listeners suddenly heard him singing in a rich baritone an old love song forgotten until then by every one present Mrs. Dean had already laid aside her work of unusual tenderness hovering about her lips while Mr. Britain's face was quivering with emotion at its conclusion he grasped Darrell's hand silently that is a very old song said Mrs. Dean it seems queer to hear you sing it I used to hear it sung when I was a young girl and that she added smiling was a great many years ago and I have sung it many a time a great many years ago said Mr. Britain and he hastily left the room End of Chapter 6