“Certainly not,” replied Vance. The tenor of his conversation was decidedly wicked in its insinuations; indeed, one to hear him talk would naturally think the destiny of Waterville rested entirely with J. Arthur Boast. Presently, in a high, creaking voice, he said: “How do you like Miss Louise?” “Miss Louise?” repeated Vance, with a perplexed look on his face. “Yes, Miss Louise Bonifield. How do you like her? Pretty fair specimen for the west, ain’t she?” “My likes and dislikes,” said Vance, “are hardly to be taken into consideration. One seldom forms an opinion until he is acquainted. Of course, there are exceptions to the rule. I have known people for a very short time, and yet instinctively taken a great dislike to them. Miss Bonifield,” continued Vance, without looking up, [85] “has the appearance of a lady of refinement and culture, but as my observations have been limited, I can hardly say more than that I am well pleased with both the young lady and her father.” At this Vance prepared to leave the room. “You’d better drink with me,” said Boast, taking up his bottle again. 9093 “I am liable to drink every drop of this liquor before I let up, and you’d only be doing me a kindness by dividing it up with me a little.” “No, thank you,” replied Vance. “Very well,” said Boast “I shall remain in Gold Bluff several days, and hope to see you often.” Vance closed the door after Boast had left his room, and the one word, “Scoundrel!” hissed through his teeth. CHAPTER XI.—OWNER OF THE PEACOCK MINE. 9094 HE next [86] morning Vance was up at an early hour for a morning walk. He followed the winding road up the hill-side toward Gray Rocks. The air was fresh and invigorating; the sun was just rising over the eastern mountains. Robins and mountain thrushes were twittering gaily their morning songs. He mentally compared the stifled life so prevalent in the great cities to the healthful and exhilarating prospect about him. A shadow flitted across his mind. It was J. Arthur Boast’s inquiry in regard to Louise Bonifield. “But why should I be so ready to come to her rescue? What right have I to be her champion? They may be old acquaintances, but they certainly are not friends. She is too noble a character to form an alliance of friendship with such an individual as Boast. He is critical, cold, calculating, and, I believe, unprincipled.” Walking on in an aimless way, he followed a path that led by Gray Rocks on toward the Peacock. Presently he saw a well-dressed man in middle life walking toward him. There was an unmistakable look of good living and prosperity—a general air of superiority about him. His round, fat face was smooth shaven, except a [87] bristly dark moustache. His nose was large and obtrusive. In his shirt front glistened a diamond of great value, while its counterpart reflected the morning sun from a massive ring on one of his fat, short fingers. “Good morning,” said he. 0095