RIDERS OF THE PURPLE SAGE
"Gold!" he cried.
"Yes. Now—now laugh at my secret!"
For a long minute Venters gazed. Then he stretched forth a hand to feel if the gold was real.
"Gold!" he almost shouted. "Bess, there are hundreds—thousands of dollars' worth here!"
He leaned over to her, and put his hand, strong and clenching now, on hers.
"Is there more where this came from?" he whispered.
"Plenty of it, all the way up the stream to the cliff. You know I've often washed for gold. Then I've heard the men talk. I think there's no great quantity of gold here, but enough for—for a fortune for you."
"That—was—your—secret!"
"Yes. I hate gold. For it makes men mad. I've seen them drunk with joy and dance and fling themselves around. I've seen them curse and rave. I've seen them fight like dogs and roll in the dust. I've seen them kill each other for gold."
"Is that why you hated to tell me?"
"Not—not altogether." Bess lowered her head. "It was because I knew you'd never stay here long after you found gold."
"You were afraid I'd leave you?"
"Yes."
"Listen! . . . You great, simple child! Listen! . . . You sweet, wonderful, wild, blue-eyed girl! I was tortured by my secret. It was that I knew we—we must leave the valley. We can't stay here much longer. I couldn't think how we'd get away—out of the country—or how we'd live, if we ever got out. I'm a beggar. That's why I kept my secret. I'm poor. It takes money to make way beyond Sterling. We couldn't ride horses or burros or walk forever. So while I knew we must go, I was distracted over how to go and what to do. Now! We've gold! Once beyond Sterling we'll be safe from rustlers. We've no others to fear.
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