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- float: left; - margin-right: 1em } - -.align-right { clear: right; - float: right; - margin-left: 1em } - -.align-center { margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto } - -div.shrinkwrap { display: table; } - -/* SECTIONS */ - -body { margin: 5% 10% 5% 10% } - -/* compact list items containing just one p */ -li p.pfirst { margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0 } - -.first { margin-top: 0 !important; - text-indent: 0 !important } -.last { margin-bottom: 0 !important } - -span.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.1em 0 0; line-height: 1 } -img.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.5em 0 0; max-width: 25% } -span.dropspan { font-variant: small-caps } - -.no-page-break { page-break-before: avoid !important } - -/* PAGINATION */ - -.pageno { position: absolute; right: 95%; font: medium sans-serif; text-indent: 0 } -.pageno:after { color: gray; content: '[' attr(title) ']' } -.lineno { position: absolute; left: 95%; font: medium sans-serif; text-indent: 0 } -.lineno:after { color: gray; content: '[' attr(title) ']' } -.toc-pageref { float: right } - -@media screen { - .coverpage, .frontispiece, .titlepage, .verso, .dedication, .plainpage - { margin: 10% 0; } - - div.clearpage, div.cleardoublepage - { margin: 10% 0; border: none; border-top: 1px solid gray; } - - .vfill { margin: 5% 10% } -} - -@media print { - div.clearpage { page-break-before: always; padding-top: 10% } - div.cleardoublepage { page-break-before: right; padding-top: 10% } - - .vfill { margin-top: 20% } - h2.title { margin-top: 20% } -} - -/* DIV */ -pre { font-family: monospace; font-size: 0.9em; white-space: pre-wrap } - -</style> -<title>THE LOST CABIN MINE</title> -<meta name="PG.Rights" content="Public Domain" /> -<meta name="PG.Title" content="The Lost Cabin Mine" /> -<meta name="PG.Producer" content="Al Haines" /> -<link rel="coverpage" href="images/img-cover.jpg" /> -<meta name="DC.Creator" content="Frederick Niven" /> -<meta name="DC.Created" content="1908" /> -<meta name="PG.Id" content="43975" /> -<meta name="PG.Released" content="2013-10-18" /> -<meta name="DC.Language" content="en" /> -<meta name="DC.Title" content="The Lost Cabin Mine" /> - -<link href="http://purl.org/dc/terms/" rel="schema.DCTERMS" /> -<link href="http://id.loc.gov/vocabulary/relators" rel="schema.MARCREL" /> -<meta content="The Lost Cabin Mine" name="DCTERMS.title" /> -<meta content="cabin.rst" name="DCTERMS.source" /> -<meta content="en" scheme="DCTERMS.RFC4646" name="DCTERMS.language" /> -<meta content="2013-10-18T18:24:48.444121+00:00" scheme="DCTERMS.W3CDTF" name="DCTERMS.modified" /> -<meta content="Project Gutenberg" name="DCTERMS.publisher" /> -<meta content="Public Domain in the USA." name="DCTERMS.rights" /> -<link href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/43975" rel="DCTERMS.isFormatOf" /> -<meta content="Frederick Niven" name="DCTERMS.creator" /> -<meta content="2013-10-18" scheme="DCTERMS.W3CDTF" name="DCTERMS.created" /> -<meta content="width=device-width" name="viewport" /> -<meta content="EpubMaker 0.3.20a7 by Marcello Perathoner <webmaster@gutenberg.org>" name="generator" /> -</head> -<body> -<div class="document" id="the-lost-cabin-mine"> -<h1 class="center document-title level-1 pfirst title"><span class="x-large">THE LOST CABIN MINE</span></h1> - -<!-- this is the default PG-RST stylesheet --> -<!-- figure and image styles for non-image formats --> -<!-- default transition --> -<!-- default attribution --> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="clearpage"> -</div> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="align-None container language-en pgheader" id="pg-header" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the </span><a class="reference internal" href="#project-gutenberg-license">Project Gutenberg License</a><span> -included with this eBook or online at -</span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/license">http://www.gutenberg.org/license</a><span>.</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<div class="align-None container" id="pg-machine-header"> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Title: The Lost Cabin Mine -<br /> -<br />Author: Frederick Niven -<br /> -<br />Release Date: October 18, 2013 [EBook #43975] -<br /> -<br />Language: English -<br /> -<br />Character set encoding: UTF-8</span></p> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst" id="pg-start-line"><span>*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK </span><span>THE LOST CABIN MINE</span><span> ***</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst" id="pg-produced-by"><span>Produced by Al Haines.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span></span></p> -</div> -<div class="align-None container titlepage"> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><em class="bold italics x-large">THE</em><span class="bold x-large"> -<br />LOST CABIN -<br />MINE</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><em class="italics medium">By</em></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="large">FREDERICK NIVEN</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><em class="italics medium">New York</em><span class="medium"> -<br />DODD, MEAD 6 COMPANY -<br />1929</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 44%" id="figure-10"> -<img class="align-center block center" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="title page" src="images/img-title.jpg" /> -<div class="caption center centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">title page</span></div> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<div class="align-None container verso"> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="small">COPYRIGHT, 1908 -<br />BY DODD, MEAD & COMPANY</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="small">PRINTED IN U. S. A.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<div class="align-None container dedication"> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">TO MY SISTER</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">Contents</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">CHAPTER</span></p> -<ol class="upperroman simple"> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#introduces-the-apache-kid-with-whom-later-i-become-acquainted">Introduces "The Apache Kid" with whom Later I become Acquainted</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#mr-laughlin-tells-the-story-up-to-date">Mr. Laughlin Tells the Story up to Date</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#mr-laughlin-s-prophecy-is-fulfilled">Mr. Laughlin's Prophecy is Fulfilled</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#i-take-my-life-in-my-hands">I Take my Life in my Hands</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#i-agree-to-keep-the-peace-in-a-new-sense">I Agree to "Keep the Peace" in a New Sense</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#farewell-to-baker-city">Farewell to Baker City</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-man-with-the-red-head">The Man with the Red Head</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#what-befell-at-the-half-way-house">What Befell at the Half-Way House</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#first-blood">First Blood</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#in-the-enemy-s-camp">In the Enemy's Camp</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#how-it-was-dark-in-the-sunlight">How it was Dark in the Sunlight</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#i-am-held-as-a-hostage">I am Held as a Hostage</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#in-which-apache-kid-behaves-in-his-wonted-way">In which Apache Kid Behaves in his Wonted Way</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#apache-kid-prophesies">Apache Kid Prophesies</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#in-which-the-tables-are-turnedat-some-cost">In which the Tables are Turned—at Some Cost</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#sounds-in-the-forest">Sounds in the Forest</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-coming-of-mike-canlan">The Coming of Mike Canlan</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-lost-cabin-is-found">The Lost Cabin is Found</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#canlan-hears-voices">Canlan Hears Voices</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#compensation">Compensation</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#re-enterthe-sheriff-of-baker-city">Re-enter—The Sheriff of Baker City</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-mud-slide">The Mud-Slide</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-sheriff-changes-his-opinion">The Sheriff Changes his Opinion</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#for-fear-of-judge-lynch">For Fear of Judge Lynch</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-making-of-a-public-hero">The Making of a Public Hero</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#apache-kid-makes-a-speech">Apache Kid Makes a Speech</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-beginning-of-the-end">The Beginning of the End</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#apache-kid-behaves-strangely-at-the-half-way-house-to-kettle">Apache Kid Behaves Strangely at the Half-Way House to Kettle</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#so-long">So-Long</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#and-last">And Last</a></p> -</li> -</ol> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="introduces-the-apache-kid-with-whom-later-i-become-acquainted"><em class="bold italics x-large">The Lost Cabin Mine</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER I</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><em class="bold italics medium">Introduces "The Apache Kid" with Whom Later -<br />I Become Acquainted</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><img class="dropcap inline" style="height: 6.00em" alt="T" src="images/img-cap-01.jpg" /><span class="dropspan"></span><span>he Lost Cabin Mine, as a name, is -familiar to many. But the true story -of that mine there is no man who -knows. Of that I am positive—because -"dead men tell no tales."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was on the sixth day of June, 1900, that I first -heard the unfinished story of the Lost Cabin, the -first half of the story I may call it, for the story is -all finished now, and in the second half I was destined -to play a part. Of the date I am certain because -I verified it only the other day when I came by -accident upon a pile of letters, tied with red silk ribbon -and bearing a tag "Letters from Francis." These -were the letters I sent to my mother during my -Odyssey and one of them, bearing the date of the -day succeeding that I have named, contained an -account, toned down very considerably, as I had -thought necessary for her sensitive and retired heart, -of the previous day's doings, with an outline of the -strange tale heard that day. That nothing was -mentioned in the epistle of the doings of that night, you -will be scarcely astonished when you read of them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I was sitting alone on the rear verandah of the -Laughlin Hotel, Baker City, watching the cicadi -hopping about on the sun-scorched flats, now and -again raising my eyes to the great, confronting -mountain, the lower trees of which seemed as though -trembling, seen through the heat haze; while away above, -the white wedge of the glacier, near the summit, -glistened dry and clear like salt in the midst of the -high blue rocks.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The landlord, a thin, quick-moving man with a -furtive air, a straggling apology for a moustache, and -tiny eyes that seemed ever on the alert, came shuffling -out to the verandah, hanging up there, to a hook -in the projecting roof, a parrot's cage which he -carried.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His coming awoke me from my reveries.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hullo," he said: "still setting there, are you? -Warmish?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You ain't rustled a job for yourself yet?" he -inquired, touching the edge of the cage lightly with -his lean, bony fingers to stop its swaying.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I shook my head. I had indeed been sitting there -that very moment, despite the brightness of the day, -in a mood somewhat despondent, wondering if ever -I was to obtain that long-sought-for, long-wished-for -"job."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Been up to the McNair Mine?" he asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I nodded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The Bonanza?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I nodded again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The Poorman?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No good," I replied.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, did you try the Molly Magee?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And?" he inquired, elevating his brows.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Same old story," said I. "They all say they only -take on experienced men."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He looked at me with a half-smile, half-sneer, and -the grey parrot hanging above him with his head -cocked on one side, just like his master's, ejaculated:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, if this don't beat cock-fighting!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Shakespeare says that "what the declined is he -will as soon read in the eyes of others as feel in his -own fall." I was beginning to read in the eyes of -others, those who knew that I had been in this -roaring Baker City almost a fortnight and was still idle, -contempt for my incapacity. Really, I do not believe -now that any of them looked on me with contempt; -it was only my own inward self-reproach which I -imagined there, for men and women are kindlier than -we think them in our own dark days. But on that -and at that moment it seemed to me as though the -very parrot jeered at me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You don't savvy this country," said the landlord. -"You want always to say, when they ask you: 'Do you -understand the work?' 'why sure! I'm experienced -all right; I never done nothing else in my life.' You -want to say that, no matter what the job is you 're -offered. If you want ever to make enough money -to be able to get a pack-horse and a outfit and go -prospectin' on your own, that's what you want to say."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But that would be to tell a downright lie," said I.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," drawled the landlord, lifting his soft hat -between his thumb and his first finger and scratching -his head on the little bald part of the crown with -the third finger, the little finger cocked in the air; -"well, now that you put it that way—well, I guess -it would. I never looked at it that way before. You -see, they all ask you first pop: 'Did you ever do it -before?' You says: 'Yes, never did anything else -since I left the cradle.' It's just a form of words -when you strike a man for a job."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I broke into a feeble laugh, which the parrot took -up with such a raucous voice that the landlord turned -and yelled to it: "Shut up!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't have to!" shrieked the parrot, promptly, -and you could have thought that his little eyes sparkled -with real indignation. Just then the landlord's wife -appeared at the door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"See here," cried Mr. Laughlin, turning to her, -"there 's that parrot o' yourn, I told him to shut up -his row just now, and he rips back at me, 'I don't -have to!' What you make o' that? Are you goin' -to permit that? Everything connected with you -seems conspirin' agin' me to cheapen me—you and -your relations what come here and put up for months -on end, and your—your—your derned old grey -parrot!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Abraham Laughlin," said the lady, her green -eyes flashing, "you bin drinkin' ag'in, and ef you -ain't sober to-morrow I go back east home to my -mother."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It gave me a new thought as to the longevity of the -human race to hear Mrs. Laughlin speak of her mother -back east. I hung my head and studied the planking -of the verandah, then looked upward and gazed at the -far-off glacier glittering under the blue sky, tried to -wear the appearance of a deaf man who had not heard -this altercation. Really I took the matter too -seriously. Had I only known it at the time, they were a -most devoted couple and would—not "kiss again -with tears" and seek forgiveness and reconciliation, -but—speak to each other most kindly, as though no -"words" had ever passed between them, half an hour -later. But at the time of the little altercation on the -verandah, when Mrs. Laughlin gave voice to her threat -and then, turning, stalked back into the hotel, Laughlin -wheeled about with his head thrust forward, showing -his lean neck craning out of his wide collar, and -opened his lips as though to discharge a pursuing -shot. But the parrot took the words out of his -mouth, so to speak, giving a shriek of laughter -and crying out: "Well, if this don't beat cock-fighting!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The landlord looked up quizzically at the bird and -then there was an awkward pause. I wondered what -to say to break this silence that followed upon the -exhibition of the break in the connubial bliss of my -landlord and his wife. Then I remembered -something that I decidedly did want to ask, so I was -actually more seeking information than striving to -put Mr. Laughlin at his ease again, when I said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"By the way, what is all this talk I hear about the -Lost Cabin Mine? Everybody is speaking about it, -you know. What is the Lost Cabin Mine? What -is the story of it? People seem just to take it for -granted that everybody knows about it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Gee-whiz!" said the landlord in astonishment, -wheeling round upon me. He stretched out a hand -to a chair, dragged it along the verandah, and sat -down beside me in the shadow. "You don't know -that story? Why, then I 'll give you all there is to -it so far. And talking about the Lost Cabin, now -there's what you might be doin' if on'y you had the -price of an outfit—go out and find it, my bold buck, -and live happy ever after——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He stopped abruptly, for a man had come out of -the hotel and now stood meditating on the verandah. -He was a lithe, sun-browned fellow, this, wearing a -loose jacket, wearing it open, disclosing a black shirt -with pearl buttons. Round his neck was a great, -cream-coloured kerchief that hung half down his -back in a V shape, as is the manner with cowboys -and not usual among miners. This little detail of the -kerchief was sufficient to mark him out in that city, -for the nearest cattle ranch was about two hundred -miles to the south-east and when the "boys" who -worked there sought the delights of civilisation it was -not to Baker City, but to one of the towns on the -railroad, such as Bogus City or Kettle River Gap, -that they journeyed. On his legs were blue dungaree -overalls, turned up at the bottom as though to let -the world see that he wore, beneath the overalls, a -very fine pair of trousers. On his head was a round, -soft hat, not broad of brim, but the brim in front was -bent down, shading his eyes. The cream-colour of -his kerchief set off his healthy brown skin and his -black, crisp hair. There were no spurs in his boots; -for all that he had the bearing of one more at home -on the plains than in the mountains. A picturesque -figure he was, one to observe casually and look at -again with interest, though he bore himself without -swagger or any apparent attempt at attracting attention, -except for one thing, and that was that in either -ear there glistened a tiny golden ear-ring. His brows -were puckered as in thought and from his nostrils -came two long gusts of smoke as he stood there -biting his cigar and glaring on the yellow sand and -the chirring cicadi. Then he raised his head, -glancing round on us, and his face brightened.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Warmish," he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's what, right warmish," the proprietor -replied affably, and now the man with the ear-rings, -having apparently come to the end of his meditations, -stepped lightly off into the loose sand and Laughlin -jogged me with his elbow and nodded to me, rolling -his eyes toward the departing man as though to say, -"Take a good look at him, and when he is out of -earshot I shall tell you of him." This was precisely -the proprietor's meaning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's Apache Kid," he said softly at last, and -when Apache Kid had gone from sight he turned -again to me and remarked, with the air of a man -making an astounding disclosure:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's Apache Kid, and he's in this here story -of the Lost Cabin. Yap, that's what they call him, -though he ain't the real original, of course. The real -original was hanged down in Lincoln County, New -Mexico, about twenty-five year back. Hanged at the -age of twenty-one he was, and had killed twenty-one -men, which is an interesting fact to consider. That's -the way with names. I know a fellow they call Texas -Jack yet, but the real original died long ago. I mind -the original. Omohundro was his correct name; as -quiet a man as you want to see, Jack B. Omohundro, -with eyes the colour of a knife-blade. But I 'm driftin' -away. What you want to get posted up on is the -Lost Cabin Mine."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He jerked his chair closer to me, tapped me on -the knee, and cleared his throat; but I seemed fated -not to hear the truth of that mystery yet, for -Mrs. Laughlin stood again on the verandah.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Abraham," she said in an aggrieved tone, "there -ain't nobody in the bar."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Up jumped Abraham, his whole bearing, from his -bowed head to his bent knees, apologetic.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I was just tellin' this gentleman a story," he -explained.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I 'm astonished at you then," she said. "An old -man like you a-telling your stories to a young lad like -that! You 'd be doin' better slippin' into the bar and -takin' a smell at that there barkeep's breath."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Laughlin turned to me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come into the bar, sir; come into the bar. We 've -got a new barkeep and the mistress suspects him o' -takin' some more than even a barkeep is expected to -take. I hev to take a look to him once in a while."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Laughlin disappeared into her own sanctum, -satisfied; while the "pro-prietor" and I went into the -bar-room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The "barkeep" was polishing up his glasses. In -one corner sat a grimy, bearded man in the prime of -life but with a dazed and lonely eye. He always sat -in that particular corner, as by ancient right, -morning, noon, and evening, playing an eternal solitary -game of cards, the whole deck of cards spread before -him on a table. He moved them about, changing -their positions, lifting here and replacing there, but, -though I had watched him several times, I could -never discover the system of his lonely game.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who is that man?" I quietly inquired. "He is -always playing there, always alone, never speaking to -a soul."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The boys call him 'The Failure,'" Laughlin -explained. "You find a man like that in the corner -of most every ho-tel-bar you go into in this here -Western country—always a-playing that there lonesome -game, I 'm always scared to ask 'em what the -rudiments o' that game is for they 're always kind o' -rat-house,—of unsound mind, them men is. I heerd a -gentleman explain one day that it's a great game for -steadyin' the head. He gets a remittance from -England, they say. Anyhow, he stands up to the bar once -every two months and blows himself in for about -three-four days. Then he goes back to his table there and -sets down to his lonesome card game again and -frowns away over it for another couple o' months. I -guess that gentleman was right in what he explained. -I guess he holds his brains together on that there -game."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We found seats in a corner of the room and -Laughlin again cleared his throat. He had a name -for taking a real delight in imparting information and -spinning yarns, true, fictitious, and otherwise, to his -guests, and this time we were not interrupted. He -told me the story of the Lost Cabin Mine, or as much -of that story as was known by that time, ere his -smiling Chinese cook came to inform him "dinnah vely -good. Number A1 dinnah to-day, Misholaughlin, -ledy in half-oh."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="mr-laughlin-tells-the-story-up-to-date"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER II</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><em class="bold italics medium">Mr. Laughlin Tells the Story up to Date</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><img class="dropcap inline" style="height: 6.00em" alt="M" src="images/img-cap-02.jpg" /><span class="dropspan"></span><span>r. Laughlin's suggestion that I -should go out and look for this Lost -Cabin and, finding it, "live happy -ever after," made me but the more -anxious to hear all that was to be -told regarding it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, about this here Lost Cabin Mine," he said. -"There's a little, short, stubby fellow that you maybe -have noticed around here, with a pock-marked -face,—Mike Canlan, they call him. He was up to -Tremont putting in assessment on a claim he has in the -mountains there away, and he was comin' along back -by the trail on the mountains that runs kind o' -parallel with the stage road, but away up on the hills, -and there he picks up a feller nigh dead,—starved -to death, pretty nigh. Mike gets him up on his -pack-horse and comes along slow down through the -mountain till he hits the waggon road from the -Poorman. There a team from the Poorman Mine makes -up on him. That there fellow, Apache Kid, was -drivin' the team, and along with him was Larry -Donoghue, a partner o' his, with another team. -They had been haulin' up supplies for one of the -stores, and was comin' down light. They offer to -help Canlan down with the dying man, seein' as how -the hoss was gettin' pretty jaded with all Canlan's -outfit on its back, and this here man, too, tied on, -and wabbling about mighty weak."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Laughlin broke off here to nod his head sagaciously. -"From what has transpired since, I guess -Canlan was kind o' sorry he fell in with them two, -and I reckon he wondered if there was no kind of an -excuse he could put up for rejecting their offer o' -service and continuin' to pack the feller down -himself. Anyways, they got the man into the Apache's -waggon, and my house bein' the nighest to the -waggon road and the mountain, they pulled up at -my door and we all carries the fellow up to a room. -I was at the door. Canlan was sitting on the -bed-foot. Apache Kid and Larry Donoghue was laying -him out comf'able. The fellow groans and mumbles -something, and Canlan gave a bit of a start forward, -and says he: 'There, there now, that 'll do; you 've -got him up all right. I reckon that's all that's -wanted. You can go for a doctor, now, if you want -to help at all.' There was something kind o' strained -in his voice, and I think Apache Kid noticed it the -way he looks round. 'Why,' he says, 'I think, seein' -as you,' and he stops and looks Canlan plumb in the -eye, 'seein' as you </span><em class="italics">found</em><span> the man, you had better -fetch the doctor and finish your job. My partner -and I will sit by him till the doctor comes.' Canlan -looked just a little bit rattled when Apache Kid says, -lookin' at the man in the bed: 'He seems to have -got a kind o' a knock on the head here.' 'Yes,' says -Canlan, 'I got him where he had fallen down. I -reckon he got that punch then.' And then Apache -Kid looks at Larry Donoghue, and Larry looks at -him, and they both smile, and Canlan cries out: 'Oh, -if that's what you think, why I 'll go for the doctor -without any more ado!'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Laughlin paused, and, "You savvy the idea?" he asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not quite," I said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He tapped me on the knee, and, bending forward, -said: "Don't you see, Apache Kid and Larry hed -no suspicions o' foul play at all, but they was -wanting to get alone in the room with the feller, and this -was just Apache's bluff to get a move on Canlan. -Canlan was no sooner gone than Apache Kid asks -me to fetch a glass o' spirits. It was only thinkin' -it over after that I saw through the thing; anyhow, -I come down for the glass, and when I got up, derned -if they did n't hev the man propped up in bed, and -him mumblin' away and them bendin' over him -listening eager to him. They gave him the liquor, and he -began talking a trifle stronger, and took two-three -deep gusts o' breath. Then he began mumblin' again."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Laughlin looked furtively round and then, -leaning forward again, thrust his neck forward and with -infinite disgust in his voice said: "And damn me if -that wife o' mine did n't come to the stair-end right -then and start yellin' on me to come down."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Laughlin shook his head sadly. "Seems her derned -old parrot was shoutin' for food and as it had all give -out she wants me to go down to the store for some -more. But I must say that she had just come in -herself and did n't know nothin' about the business that -was goin' on upstairs. When Canlan and the doctor -did arrive and go up the fellow was dead—sure -thing—dead as—dead as—" he searched for the simile -without which he could not speak for long. "Dead -as God!" he said in a horrible whisper, raising his -grey eyebrows.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I shuddered somehow at the words, and yet in -such a red-hot, ungodly place as Baker City I could -almost understand the phrase. There was another -pause after that and then Laughlin cleared his throat -again and held up a lean finger in my face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There's where the place comes in," said he, -"where you says 'the plot thickens,' for I 'm a son -of a gun if word did n't come down next day that the -fellers up at the Poorman Mine had picked up just -such another dead-beat. This here corpse of which -I bin tellin' you was indemnified after as having been -in company with the other. But the man the -Poorman boys picked up was jest able to tell them that -he had seen the lights o' their bunk-house and was -trying to make for it. Told them that he and two -partners had struck it rich in the mountains, pow'ful -rich, he said, and hed all been so fevered like that -they let grub run out. Then they went out looking -for something to shoot up and could n't find a thing. -One of 'em went off then to fetch supplies, lost his -way in them mountains, wanders about nigh onto -a week—and hits their own camp ag'in at the end -o' that time. Isn't it terrible? You'd think that -after striking it luck jest turned about and hed a -laugh at 'em for a change. They comes rushin' on -him, the other two, expecting grub— Grub nothing! -He was too derned tired to budge then, and so the -other two sets out then— This fellow what the -Poorman boys picked up was doin' his level best to tell -'em where the place was, for the sake of his partner -left there, and in the middle of his talk he took a fit -and never came out of it. All they know is that -there was a cabin built at the place. That's the -story for you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But what about the man who was brought down -here; did he not leave any indication?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now you 're askin'," said Laughlin. "But I see -you bin payin' attention to this yere story. Now -you're askin'. Nobody knows whether he did or -not. But this I can tell you—that Apache Kid and -Larry Donoghue has done nothing since then but -jest wander about with the tail of an eye on Canlan, -and Canlan returns the compliment. And here 's -miners comin' in from the Poorman and stoppin' in -town a night and trying to fill Apache Kid and his -mate full, and trying the same on Canlan to get them -to talk, and them just sittin' smilin' through it all, and -nobody knows what they think."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But," said I, "if they do know, could the three of -them not come to some agreement and go out and -find the place? If the third man is dead there, I -suppose the mine would be theirs and they could share -on it. Besides, while they stay here doubtless other -men will be out looking for the cabin."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The landlord listened attentively to me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," said he, "as for your first remark, Canlan -is too all-fired hard a man to make any such daffy -with them, and there's just that touch of the devil in -Apache Kid and that amount of hang-dog in -Donoghue to prevent them making up to Canlan, I -reckon. Not but what they pump each other. -Sometimes they get out there on the verandah nights, and, -you bein' in the know now, you 'll understand what's -running underneath everything they say. As for the -other men goin' out and looking for a cabin! Shucks! -Might as well go and look for that needle you hear -people talk about in the haystack. Not but what a -great lot has gone out. Most every man in the -Poorman Mine went off with a pack-hoss to hunt it, and -plenty others too. And between you and me," said -the landlord, "I reckon they 're all on the wrong -scent. They 're all away along Baker Range, and I -reckon they must be on the wrong scent there or else -them three others wouldn't be sittin' here in Baker -City smiling; that is, if they dew know where the -location is."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Just then the Chinese cook arrived quietly on the -scene to inform Mr. Laughlin of the progress of -dinner. Then a laugh sounded in the passage and -Apache Kid entered the bar-room accompanied by a -heavy-set, loose-jawed man of thirty years or thereby, -a man with a slovenly appearance in his dress and a -cruel expression on his face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's them both," said Laughlin, prodding me -with his elbow as they marched through the bar and -out to the rear verandah where we heard them dragging -chairs about, and the harsh voice of the parrot, -evidently awakened from his reveries in the sunshine:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, well! If this ain't——" and a dry cackle of -laughter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They 're lookin' right lively and pleased with -themselves," said the proprietor. "I reckon if -Canlan comes along to-night it will be worth your while, -now that you know the ins and outs of the business, -to keep an eye on the three and watch the co-mical -game they keep on playin' with each other. But it -can't go on forever, that there game. I do hope, if -they make a bloody end to it, it don't take place in -my house. Times is changed from the old days. -I 've seen when it was quite an advertisement to have -a bit of shooting in your house some night. And if -there was n't enough holes made in the roof and -chairs broke, you could make some more damage -yourself; and the crowd would come in, and you 'd -point out where so-and-so was standing, and where -so-and-so was settin', and tell 'em how it happened, -and them listening and setting up the drinks all the -time. It certainly was good for business, a little -shooting now and then, in the old days. But times -is changed, and the sheriff we hev now is a very lively -man. All the same, we ain't done with Lost Cabin -Mine yet—and that ain't no lie."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="mr-laughlin-s-prophecy-is-fulfilled"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER III</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><em class="bold italics medium">Mr. Laughlin's Prophecy is Fulfilled</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><img class="dropcap inline" style="height: 6.00em" alt="A" src="images/img-cap-03.jpg" /><span class="dropspan"></span><span> sense of exhilaration filled me, as -I strolled down town that evening, -which I can only ascribe to the rare -atmosphere of that part of the world. -It was certainly not due to any -improvement in my financial condition, nor to any hope -of "making my pile" speedily, and to "make a pile" -is the predominating thought in men's minds there, -with an intensity that is known in few other lands. -I was pondering the story of the Lost Cabin Mine as -I went, and in my own mind had come to the decision -that Apache Kid and his comrade knew the -whereabouts of that bonanza. Canlan, I argued, if he -knew its locality at all, must have come by his news -before he fell in with his rivals on the waggon road, -for after that, according to the hotel-keeper's -narrative, he had had no speech with the dying man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I was in the midst of these reflections when I turned -into Baker Street, the main street of Baker City. There -was a wonderful bustle there; men were coming and -going on either sidewalk thick as bees in hiving time; -the golden air of evening was laden with the perfume -of cigars; indeed, the blue of the smoke never seemed -to fly clear of Baker Street on the evenings; and the -sound of the many phonographs that thrust their -trumpets out from all the stores on that thoroughfare, -added to the din of voices and laughter, rose above -the sounds of talk, to be precise, with a barbaric -medley of hoarse songs and throaty recitations. So -much for the sidewalks. In the middle of the street, -to cross which one had to wade knee-deep in sand, -pack-horses were constantly coming and going and -groaning teams arriving from the mountains. To add -to the barbarous nature of the scene, now and again -an Indian would go by, not with feathered head-dress -as in former days, but with a gaudy kerchief bound -about his head, tinsel glittering here and there about -his half-savage, half-civilised garb, and a pennon of -dust following the quick patter of his pony's hoofs. -I walked the length of Baker Street and then turned, -walking back again with a numb pain suddenly in my -heart, for as I turned right about I saw the great, quiet -hills far off, and beyond them the ineffable blue of the -sky. And there is something in me that makes me -always fall silent when amidst the din of men I see the -enduring, uncomplaining, undesiring hills. So I went -back to the hotel again, and without passing through -the bar but going around the house, found the rear -verandah untenanted, with its half dozen vacant chairs, -and there I sat down to watch the twilight change the -hills. But I had not been seated long when a small -set man, smelling very strongly of whisky, came out -with his hands thrust deep in his pockets, and, -leaning against one of the verandah props, looked up at -the hills, spitting at regular intervals far out into the -sand and slowly ruminating a chew of tobacco.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Canlan, for a certainty," I said to myself, when he, -looking toward the door from which he had emerged, -attracted by a sudden louder outbreak of voices and -rattling of chairs within, revealed to me a face very -sorely pock-marked, as was easily seen with the -lamplight streaming out on him from the bar. On seeing -me he made some remark on the evening, came over -and sat down beside me, and asked me why I sat at -the back of the hotel instead of at the front.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Because one can see the hills from here," said I.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He grunted and remarked that a man would do -better to sit at the front and see what was going on -in the town. Then he rose and, walking to and fro, -flung remarks to me, in passing, regarding the doings -in the city and the mines and so forth, the local -gossip of the place. He had just reverted to his first -theme of the absurdity of sitting at the rear of the -house when out came Apache Kid and Donoghue -and threw themselves into the chairs near me, -Donoghue taking the one beside me which Canlan -had just vacated. If Canlan thought a man a fool for -choosing the rear instead of the front, he was -evidently, nevertheless, content to be a fool himself, for -after one or two peregrinations and expectorations -he drew a chair to the front of the verandah and -seated himself, half turned towards us, and began -amusing himself with tilting the chair to and fro like -a rocker. The valley was all in shadow now, and as -we sat there in the silence the moon swam up in -the middle of one of the clefts of the mountains, -silhouetting for a brief space, ere it left them for the -open sky, the ragged edge of the tree-tops in the -highest forest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Apache Kid muttered something, Donoghue -growled, "What say?" And it surprised me somewhat -to hear the reply: "O! I was only saying 'with -how sad steps, O moon, thou climb'st the skies.' It's -lonesome-like, up there, Larry."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Aye! Lonesome!" replied Larry with a sigh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A fifth man joined us then, and, hearing this, -remarked: "A man thinks powerful up there."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's no lie," Donoghue growled, and so the -conversation, if conversation you can call it, went on, -interspersed with long spaces of silence, broken only -by the gurgling of the newcomer's pipe and Canlan's -"spit, spit" which came quicker now. Men are -prone in such times as these to sit and exchange -truisms instead of carrying on any manner of -conversation. Yet to me, not long in the country, there -was a touch of mystery in even the truisms.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I never seen a man who had spent much time in -the mountains that was just what you could call all -there in the upper story," said the man with the -juicy pipe.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nor I," said Donoghue.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They 're all half crazy, them old prospectors," -continued the first, "and tell you the queerest yarns -about things they 've seen in the mountains and -expect you to believe them. You can see from the -way they talk that they believe 'em themselves. But -I don't see why a man should lose his reason in the -hills. If a man lets his brain go when he 's up there, -then he don't have any real enjoyment out of the -fortune he makes—if he happens to strike it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The moon was drifted far upward now and all the -frontage of the hill was tipped with light green, -among the darker green, where the trees that soared -above their neighbours caught the light. "And there -must be lots of fortunes lying there thick if one knew -where to find them," continued the talker of truisms.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where?" said Apache in a soft voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In the mountains, in the mountains," was the reply.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why do you ask where?" said Donoghue -sharply. "Do you think if this gentleman knew -where to find 'em he would be sitting here this -blessed night?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I felt my heart take a quicker beat at that. -Knowing what I knew of three of these men here I began -to see what Mr. Laughlin meant by the "game" they -were playing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"O, he might," said Canlan, now speaking for the -first time since Apache's arrival.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That would be a crazy thing to do," said -Donoghue. "That would—a crazy thing—to set here -instead of going and locating it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"O, I don't know about </span><em class="italics">crazy</em><span>," said Mike. "You -see, he might be waiting to see if anybody else -knew where it was."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The soft-footed Chinese attendant appeared -carrying a lamp which he hung up above our heads, -and in the light of it I saw the face of the man -whose name I did not know, and he seemed -mystified by the turn the conversation had taken. I -was looking at him now, thinking to myself that I -too would have been mystified had I not been posted -in the matter that afternoon, and suddenly I heard -Donoghue say: "By God! he knows right enough, -Apache," and a gleam of light flashed in my eyes. -It was the barrel of a revolver, but not aimed at -me. It was in Donoghue's hand, and pointed fairly -at Canlan's head. With a sudden intake of my -breath in horror I flung out my hand and knocked -the barrel up. There was a little shaft of flame, a -sharp crack and puff of bitter smoke, and next -moment a clatter of feet within and a knot of men -thronging and craning at the door, while the -window behind was darkened with others shouldering -there and pressing their faces against the glass.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"O you——" began Apache, and "What's this?" -cried Laughlin, coming out, no coward, as one might -imagine, but calm enough and yet angry as I -could see.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What in thunder are you all rubber-necking at -the door there for?" cried Apache Kid, springing up.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Was it you fired that gun?" challenged the landlord.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, not I," cried Apache so that all could hear. -"Not but what I was the cause of it, by betting my -partner here he could n't snap a bat on the wing -in the dusk. I never thought he'd try it, but he's -as crazy——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I crazy!" cried out Donoghue; and to look at -him you would have thought him really infuriated -by the suggestion; but they knew how to play into -each other's hands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>All this time I sat motionless. The stranger rose -and passed by, remarking: "This ain't my trouble, -I guess," and away indoors he went among the -throng, and I heard him cry out in reply to the -questions: "I don't know anything about it—saw -nothing—I was asleep—I don't even know who -fired."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Haw! Did n't even wake in time to see whose -pistol was smoking, eh?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," cried he, "not even in time for that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Quite right, you," cried another. But the -trouble was not yet quite over on the verandah, for -Laughlin, with his little eyes looking very fierce -and determined, remarked: "Well, gentlemen, I -can't be having any shooting of any kind in my -hotel. Besides, you know there 's a law ag'in' -carrying weapons here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No there ain't!" cried Donoghue. "It's concealed -weapons the law is against, and I carry my -gun plain for every man to see."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Canlan had sat all this while on his seat as calm -as you please, but suddenly the crowd at the door -opened out and somebody said: "Say, here 's the -sheriff, boys," and at these words two men sprang -from the verandah; the one was Donoghue, and -Canlan the other. I saw them a moment running -helter-skelter in the sand, but when the sheriff -made his appearance they were gone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The sheriff had to get as much of the story as he -could from the proprietor, who was very civil and -polite, but lied ferociously, saying he did not know -who the men were who had been on the verandah.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I know you, anyhow," said the sheriff, turning on -Apache Kid. "Allow me, sir," and walking up to -Apache Kid he drew his hand over his pockets and -felt him upon the hips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then I knew why Canlan, though entirely innocent -in this matter, had fled at the cry of "sheriff." He, I -guessed, would not have come off so well as Apache -Kid in a search for weapons.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At this stage of the proceedings the Chinese -attendant passed me, quiet as is the wont of his race, -and brushed up against Apache Kid just as the -sheriff turned to ask Mr. Laughlin if he could not -describe the man who had fired the shot. "I ain't -been out on the verandah not for a good hour," -began the landlord, when Apache Kid broke in, "Well, -Sheriff, I can tell you the name of one of the men -who was here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"O!" said the sheriff, "and what was his name?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mike Canlan," said the Apache Kid, calmly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said the sheriff, looking on him with -narrowing eyes, "and the name of the other was Larry -Donoghue."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Could n't very well be Larry," said Apache Kid. -"Larry was drunk to-night before sunset, and I -believe you 'll find him snoring in room number thirty -at this very moment."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The sheriff gazed on him a little space and I -noticed, on stealing a glance at Mr. Laughlin, that a -quick look of surprise passed over his colourless -face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a ring as of respect in the sheriff's voice -when, after a long, eye-to-eye scrutiny of Apache Kid, -he said slowly: "You 're a deep man, Apache, but -you won't get me to play into your hands."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So saying he stepped over to me and for the first -time addressed me. "As for you, my lad, I have n't -asked you any questions, because it's better that the -like of you don't get mixed up at all in these kind of -affairs, not even on the right side." He laid his -hand on my shoulder in a fatherly fashion, "I 've had -my eye on you, as I have my eye on everybody, and -I know you 're an honest enough lad and doing your -best to get a start here. I ain't even blaming you -for being in the middle of this, but you take the advice -of a man that has been sheriff in a dozen different -parts of the West, and when you see signs of trouble -just you go away and leave it. Trouble with a gun -seldom springs up between a good man and a bad, -but most always between two bad men."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is that my character you are soliloquising on?" -said Apache Kid. The sheriff turned on him and -his face hardened again. "For Heaven's sake, -Apache," he said, "if you and Canlan both know -where the Lost Cabin is, why can't you have the grit -to start off? If he follows you, well, you can fix him. -It'll save me a job later on."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, for the sake of the argument," said Apache, -"but remember I 'm not saying I know, suppose -he followed up and shot me out of a bush some night?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'd be mighty sorry," said the sheriff, "for I think -between the pair of you he 's a worse man for the -health of the country."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A boyish look came over Apache Kid's face that -made me think him younger than I had at first -considered him. He looked pleased at the sheriff's words -and bowed in a way that betokened a knowledge of -usages other than those of Baker City.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank you, Sheriff," he said. "I 'll see what can -be done."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Off went the sheriff smartly then, without another -word, and Apache Kid turned to me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I 've got to thank you for preventing——" he -began, and then the Chinaman appeared beside us. -"Well, Chink?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Maybe that littee jobee woth half a dollah, eh?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did Donoghue give you nothing for bringing the -message?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, no," and a bland smile. "Mishadonah think -you give me half a dollah."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, it was certainly worth half a dollar; but -remember, if I find out that Donoghue gave you -anything,——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh yes," said the Chinaman, with a slight look of -perturbation, "Mishadonah he gave me half-dollah."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Apache Kid laughed. "Well," he said, "you -don't hold up your bluff very long. However, here -you are, here's half a dollar to you all the same—for -your truthfulness."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I experienced then a feeling of great disgust. -Here was this Chinaman lying and wheedling for -half a dollar; here just a few minutes gone I had seen -murder attempted—and for what? All occasioned -again by that lust for gold. And here beside me was -a man with a certain likableness about him (so that, -as I had observed, even the sheriff, who suspected -him, had a warm side to him) lying and humbugging -and deceiving. I thought to myself that doubtless -his only objection to Larry Donoghue's attempt at -murder was because of the prominence of it in this -place and the difficulties that would have ensued in -proving Larry guiltless had the attempt been -consummated. "This man," said I to myself, "for all that -likableness in his manner, the kindly sparkle of his -eyes, and the smile on his lips, is no better than the -hang-dog fellow he sought to shield—worse, indeed, -for he has the bearing of one who has had a training -of another order." And then I saw Mrs. Laughlin's -red head and freckled face and lean, lissome form in -the doorway. She was beckoning me to her, and -when I made haste to see what she wanted with me -she looked on me with much tenderness and said: -"You want to remember what the sheriff said to you, -my lad. Take my advice and leave that fellow out -there alone for to-night. He's a reckless lad and from -the way he is talking to you he seems to have taken -a fancy to you. But you leave him alone. He 's a -deep lad, is Apache Kid, and for all his taking way -he leads a life I 'm sure neither his mother would like -to see him in, nor your mother (if you have one) -would like to see you taking up. There's some says -he's little better than the fellow he gets his name from. -I 'm sorry for you lads when I see you getting off the -trail."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So what with the words of the sheriff and this -well-meant talk and my own disgust at all these doings, I -made up my mind to keep clear of these three men -and not permit my curiosity regarding the Lost Cabin -Mine to lead me into their company again. But -when I went up to my room, before going to bed, I -counted my remaining money and found that I had -but seven dollars to my name. I thought to myself -then that the Lost Cabin Mine would be a mighty -convenient thing to find. And in my dreams that -night I wandered up hill and down dale seeking for -the Lost Cabin and engaging in hand-to-hand -conflicts with all three of these men, Canlan, Donoghue, -and the Apache Kid. It was on awakening from one -of these conflicts that I lay thinking over all that I -had heard of that mysterious Cabin and all that I had -seen of the three principally connected with it. -Revolving these thoughts in my mind, it occurred to me -that it was an unaccountable thing, if all three knew -the situation of the mine, that the two who were -"partners" should not simply start out for it and risk being -followed up and shadowed by Canlan. They were -always two to one and could take watch and watch by -night lest Canlan should follow and attempt to slay -them from the bushes; for that, it would appear, was -the chief danger in the matter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Canlan's dread of starting alone I could -understand. Then suddenly I sat upright in bed with the -sudden belief that the truth of the matter was that -Canlan, and Canlan only, knew of the mine's situation. -"But that again can't be," said I, "for undoubtedly -Donoghue meant murder to-night and that would -be to kill the goose with the golden eggs." I was no -nearer a solution of the mystery but I could not -dismiss the matter from my mind. "I believe," said I -to myself, "that instead of having nothing to do with -this Lost Cabin Mine I will yet find out the truth of -it from these men. Who knows but what I, even I, -may be the one for whom the mine with all its -treasure waits?"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="i-take-my-life-in-my-hands"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER IV</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><em class="bold italics medium">I Take My Life in My Hands</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><img class="dropcap inline" style="height: 6.00em" alt="A" src="images/img-cap-04.jpg" /><span class="dropspan"></span><span>fter breakfast on the day following -the incident of the verandah I was -journeying down town to post two -letters, the Lost Cabin Mine still -uppermost in my mind, when I came, -at the turning into Baker Street, face to face with the -man Donoghue. It was clear that he saw me,—he -could not help seeing me, so directly were we meeting,—and -I wondered if now he would have a word to say -to me regarding the part I played on the preceding -evening. Sure enough, he stopped; but there was -only friendliness on his face and the heaviness of -it and the sulkiness were hardly visible when he -smiled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He held out his hand to me with evident sincerity, -and said that he had to thank me for preventing -what he called "an accident last night."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I smiled at the word, for he spoke it so easily, as -though the whole thing were a mere bagatelle to -him. "It was right stupid of me," he said. "But -Laughlin keeps such bad liquor! Canlan, too, had -had too much of it, or he would never have tried -to irritate me with his remark." I was trying to -recollect the exact words of that remark which -Donoghue classified as "irritating" when he -interrupted my thoughts with: "The Apache Kid and -me has quit the Laughlin House."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I did n't see you at breakfast there," said I.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Was Canlan there?" he asked eagerly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not while I was breakfasting, at any rate," I -replied.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He nursed his chin in his hand at that and stood -pondering something. Then: "Quite so, quite so," -he commented as though to himself. Then to me: -"By the way, would you be so kind as to come -down this evening to Blaine's? The Apache Kid -asked me to try and see you and ask you if you -would be good enough to come down."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Blaine's?" I asked. "Where is Blaine's?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Blaine, Blaine, Lincoln Avenue; near the corner -of Twenty-second Street."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It amazed me to hear of a Twenty-second Street in -this city that boasted only one long street (Baker -Street) and six streets running off it. But of course, -a street is a street in a new city even though it can -boast only of a house at either corner and has nothing -between these corner houses but tree-stumps, or sand, -or sage-bushes, and little boards thrust into the ground -announcing: "This is a sure-thing lot. Its day will -come very soon. See about it when it can be bought -cheap from ——, Real Estate Agent, office open day -and night."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Donoghue, seeing that I did not know the -streets of the city by name, directed me:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You go right along Baker Street,—you know it, -of course, the main street of this progressive -burgh?—straight ahead west; turn down third on the right; -look up at the store front there and you read -'H.B. Blaine. Makes you think o' Home and Mother.' It's -a coffee-joint, you see. There 's a coffee urn in -the window and two plates, one with crackers on it -and t' other with doughnuts. You walk right in and -ask for the Apache Kid—straight goods—no josh." He -stopped to give emphasis to the rest and after -that pause he said in a meaning tone: -"And—you—will—hear—o' something to your advantage."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He nodded sedately and, without giving me time to -say anything in reply, moved off. You may be sure -I pondered this invitation as I went along roaring -Baker Street to the post-office. And I was indeed in -two minds about it, uncertain whether to call in at -Blaine's or not. Both the sheriff and Mrs. Laughlin -had cautioned me against these men, and I had, -besides, seen enough of them to know myself that they -were not just all that could be desired. The word the -sheriff had used regarding Apache Kid's nature, -"deep," came into my mind, along with reflections -on all his prevarications of the previous day. It -occurred to me that it would be quite in keeping with -him to pretend gratefulness to me, at the moment, for -my interference, and to post up Donoghue to do the -same, with the intention in his mind all the while of -"getting me in a quiet corner," as the phrase is. I -think I may be excused this judgment considering all -the duplicity I had already seen him practise. A -story that I had heard somewhere of a trap-door in a -floor which opened and precipitated whoever stood -upon it down into a hole among rats came into my -head. Perhaps H. B. Blaine had such a trap-door in -his floor. One could believe anything of half the -men one saw here, with their blood-shot eyes, straggling -hair, and cruel mouths. Still, I had felt real -friendliness, no counterfeit, in both Apache Kid last -night and Donoghue to-day.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A wave of disgust at my cowardice and suspicion -came over me to aid me toward the decision that -my curiosity was already crying for and so, when the -day wore near an end, I set forth—for Blaine's, the -"coffee-joint."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When I got the length of Baker Street I was to see -another sight such as only the West could show. The -phonographs, as usual, it being now evening, were all -grumbling forth their rival songs at the stalls and -open windows. The wonted din was in the air when -suddenly an eddy began in the crowd on the opposite -sidewalk. It was in front of one of the "toughest" -saloons in town, and out of that eddy darted a man, -hatless, and broke away pell-mell along the street. -Next moment the saloon door swung again, and after -him there went running another fellow, with a -tomahawk in his hand, his hair flying behind him as he ran, -his legs straddled wide to prevent him tripping up on -his great spurs. Where the third party in this scene -sprang from I cannot tell. I only know that he -suddenly appeared on the street, habited in a blue -serge suit, with a Stars-and-Stripes kerchief round his -slouch hat in place of a band, and a silver star on his -breast. It was my friend the portly, fatherly, stern -sheriff.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Stop, you!" he cried.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But he with the tomahawk paid no heed, and out -shot the sheriff's leg and tripped the man up. The -tomahawk flew from his hand and buried itself almost -to the end of the handle in the dust of the road.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Stop, you!" cried the sheriff again to the other -fellow, who was still posting on. But the fugitive -gave only a quick glance over his shoulder and -accelerated his speed. It looked as though he would -escape, when down flew the sheriff's hand to his belt, -then up above his head. He thrust out his chin -vindictively, down came his revolver hand in a -half-circle and—it was just as though he pointed at the -flying man with his weapon—"flash!" The man -took one step more, but not a second. His leg was -shot, and he fell. A waggon had stopped on the -roadway, the teamster looking on, and him the sheriff -immediately pressed into service. The man of the -tomahawk rose, and, at a word from the man of -law-and-order, climbed into the waggon; he of the shot -leg was assisted to follow; the sheriff mounted beside -them, and with a brief word to the teamster away -went the waggon in a cloud of dust, and whirled round -the corner to the court-house. And then the crowd -in the street moved on as usual, the talk buzzed, the -cigar smoke crept overhead.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Would n't that jar you?" said a voice in my ear, -and turning I found Donoghue by my side. "Just -toddling down to Blaine's?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," I said, and fell in step with him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Certainly this little incident I had witnessed on the -way reassured me to the extent of making me think -that if I was to be shot in the "coffee-joint," there -was a lively sheriff in the town, and unless my demise -was kept unconscionably quiet he would be by the -way of making inquiries.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With no trepidation at all, then, on reading the -sign "H. B. Blaine. Makes you think of Home and -Mother," I followed Donoghue into the sweet-scented -"joint" with the gleaming coffee urn in the window.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He nodded to the gentleman who stood behind -the doughnut-heaped counter—H. B. Blaine, I -presumed—who jerked his head towards the rear of the -establishment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Step right in, Mr. Donoghue," he said. "Apache -Kid is settin' there."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="i-agree-to-keep-the-peace-in-a-new-sense"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER V</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><em class="bold italics medium">I Agree to "Keep the Peace" in a New Sense</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><img class="dropcap inline" style="height: 6.00em" alt="I" src="images/img-cap-05.jpg" /><span class="dropspan"></span><span>t was at once evident that I was not to -be murdered in H. B. Blaine's place, -and also evident that I had been invited -to meet Apache Kid to hear some -matter that was not for all to hear; for -immediately on our entering the little rear room he -flung aside a paper he had been reading and leaped -to his feet to meet us. He put a hand on Donoghue's -shoulder and the other he extended to me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We'll not talk here," he said. "Walls have -ears:" and so we all turned about and marched out -again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Going out for a strowl?" asked Blaine.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said Apache. "Fine night for a strowl." And -we found ourselves on the street down which we -turned and walked in silence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Suddenly Apache Kid slowed down and swore to himself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I should n't have said that!" he remarked angrily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Said what?" Donoghue interrogated.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"O! mocked Blaine like that—said we were going -for a strowl."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you mean?" asked Donoghue, whose -ear did not seem very acute.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Apache looked at him with a relieved expression.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, that's hopeful," he said. "Perhaps Blaine -would n't catch it either. Still, still, I should n't have -mocked him. You noticed, I bet?" he said to me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Strowl?" I inquired.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He sighed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There 's no sense in trying to make fun of anything -in a man's clothes or talk or manner. Besides, -it's excessively vulgar, excessively vulgar."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Here 's an interesting 'bad man,'" I mused; but -there was no more said till we won clear of the town, -quite beyond the last sidewalks that stretched and -criss-crossed among the rocks and sand, marking out -the prospective streets. There, on a little rising -place of sand and rocks, we sat down.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was a desolate spot. A gentle wind was blowing -among the dunes and the sand was all moving, trickling -down here and piling up there. Being near -sunset the cicadi had disappeared and the evening light -falling wan on the occasional tufts of sage-brush gave -them a peculiar air of desolation. Donoghue pulled -out a clasp-knife and sat progging in the sand with it, -and then Apache Kid jerked up his head and smiled -on me, a smile entirely friendly. And suddenly as he -looked at me his face became grave.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Have you had supper yet?" he asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," I said. "It's early yet."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He looked at me keenly and then: "You 'll excuse -me remarking on your appearance, but you look -extraordinarily tired."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh," said I, lightly, "I have not been feeling just -up to the scratch and—well, I thought I 'd try the -fasting cure."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He hummed to himself and dived a hand into his -trousers pocket and held out a five-dollar bill under -my nose.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There," he said, "go and eat and don't lie any -more. I 've been there myself—when I was new to -the country and could n't get into its ways."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was something of such intense warm-heartedness -behind the peremptory tones (while -Donoghue turned his face aside, running the sand -between his fingers and looking foolishly at it) that -to tell you the truth, I found the tears in my eyes -before I was aware. But this sign of weakness Apache -Kid made pretence not to observe.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We 'll wait here for you till you get fed," said he, -examining the back of his hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no," I answered hastily, "I had rather hear -what you have to say just now." Thank him for his -kindness I could not, for I felt that thanks would -but embarrass him. "To tell you the truth, the -mere knowledge that I need not go to bed hungry is -sufficient."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," said he, looking up when my voice rang -firm. "The fact is, I am going to offer you a job; -but it is a job you might not care to take unless you -were hard pressed; so you will please consider that -a loan, not a first instalment, and the fact of settling -it must not influence."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This was very fairly spoken and I felt that I should -say something handsome, but he gave me no -opportunity, continuing at once: "Donoghue here and I -are wanting a partner on an expedition that we are -going on. We 're very old friends, we two, but for -quite a little while back we had both been meditating -going on this expedition separately. Fact is, we are -such very old friends and know each other's weaknesses -so well that, though we both had the idea of -the expedition in our heads, we did n't care about -going together."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>All this he spoke as much to Donoghue as to me, -with a bantering air; and one thing at least I learned -from this—the reason why these two had not done -as Laughlin thought the natural thing for them to do, -namely, to go out together, heedless of Canlan. For -I had no doubt whatever that the expedition was to -the Lost Cabin Mine. That was as clear as the sun. -Further observation of their natures, if further -observation I was to have, might explain their long -reluctance to "go partners" on the venture, a reluctance -now evidently overcome.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Get to your job," growled Donoghue, "and quit palaver."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was evident that Apache Kid was determined -not to permit himself to be irritated, for he only -smiled on Donoghue's snarl and turned to me: "My -friend Donoghue and I," said he, "it is necessary to -explain, are such very old friends that we can -cordially hate each other."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"At times," interjected Donoghue.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes; upon occasion," said Apache Kid. "To -you, new to this country, such a state of things -between friends may be scarcely comprehensible, -but——" and Apache Kid stopped.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's them mountains that does it," said Donoghue, -with a heavy frown.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Them mountains, as Donoghue says; that's it. -It's queer how the mountains, when you get among -them, seem to creep in all round you and lock you up. -It does n't take long among them with a man to know -whether you and he belong to the same order and -breed. There are men who can never sleep under -the same blanket; yes, never sleep on the same -side of the fire; never, after two days in the hills, -ride side by side, but must get space between them."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His eyes were looking past me on things invisible -to me, looking in imagination, I suppose, on his own -past from which he spoke.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And if you don't like your partner, you know it -then," Donoghue said. "You go riding along and if -he speaks to you, you want him to shut it. And if he -don't speak, you ask him what in thunder he's -broodin' about. And you look for him to fire up at -you then, and if he don't, you feel worse than ever and -go along with just a little hell burning against him in -here," and he tapped his chest. "You could turn on -him and eat him; yes siree, kill him with your teeth -in his neck."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This is called the return to Nature," said Apache -Kid, calmly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Return to hell!" cried Donoghue, and Apache -Kid inclined his head in acquiescence. He seemed -content to let Donoghue now do the talking.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Apache and me has come to an agreement, as -he says, to go out on the trail, and though we 've -chummed together a heap——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In the manner of wolves," said Apache, with a -half sneer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said Donoghue, "a good bit like that, too. -Well, but on this trail we can't go alone. It's too -all-fired far and too all-fired lonely."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His gaze wandered to the mountains behind the -town and Apache took up the discourse.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You see the idea? We want a companion to -help us to keep the peace. Foolish—eh? Well, I -don't blame you if you don't quite understand. -You 're new here. You 've never been in the -mountains, day in day out, with a man whose soul an -altogether different god or devil made; with a man that -you fervently hope, if there's any waking up after the -last kick here, you won't find in your happy -hunting-ground beyond. You won't have to come in between -and hold us apart, you know. The mere presence of -a third party is enough."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He looked on me keenly a space and added:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Somehow I think that you will do more than keep -off the bickering spirit. I think you 'll establish -amicable relations."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was curious to observe how the illiterate -Donoghue took his partner's speech so much for granted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What's amicable?" he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Friendly," said Apache Kid.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Amicable, friendly," said Donoghue, thoughtfully. -"Good word, amicable."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The trip would be worth a couple of hundred -dollars to you," said Apache, with his eyes on mine. -"And if we happened to be out over two months, at -the rate of a hundred a month for the time beyond."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, that's straight enough talk, I guess," said -Donoghue. "Is the deal on?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>My financial condition itself was such as to -preclude any doubt. Had I been told plainly that it -was to the Lost Cabin Mine we were going and been -offered a share in it I would, remembering Apache -Kid and Donoghue of the verandah, as I may put it, -in distinction from Apache Kid and Donoghue of -to-night—well, I would have feared that some heated -sudden turn of mind of one or the other or both of -these men might prevent me coming into my own. -Donoghue especially had a fearsome face to see. -But there was no such suggestion. I was offered -two hundred dollars and, now that the night fell and -the silence deepened and the long range of hills -gloomed on us, I thought I could understand that the -presence of a third man might be well worth two -hundred dollars to two men of very alien natures -among the silence and the loneliness that would -throw them together closely whether they would or not.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The deal is on," I said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We shook hands solemnly then and Donoghue -looked toward Apache Kid as though all the -programme was not yet completed. Apache Kid -nodded and produced a roll of bills. The light was -waning and he held them close to him as he withdrew -one.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That'll make us square again," he said, handing -me the roll. "I 've kept off a five; so now we 're -not obliged to each other for anything."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And then, as though to seal the compact and bear -in upon me a thought of the expedition we were going -upon, the sun disappeared behind the western hills -and from somewhere out there, in the shadows and -deeper shadows of the strange piled landscape, came -a long, faint sound, half bay, half moan. It was the -dusk cry of the mountain coyotes; and either the -echo of it or another cry came down from the hills -beyond the city, only the hum of which we heard -there. And when that melancholy cry, or echo, had -ended, a cold wind shuddered across the land; all that -loneliness, that by day seemed to lure one ever with -its sunlit peaks and its blue, meditative hollows, -seemed now a place of terrors and strange occurrences; -but the lure was still there, only a different -lure,—a lure of terror and darkness instead of -romance and sunlight.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="farewell-to-baker-city"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER VI</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><em class="bold italics medium">Farewell to Baker City</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><img class="dropcap inline" style="height: 6.00em" alt="W" src="images/img-cap-06.jpg" /><span class="dropspan"></span><span>e all came to our feet then, Apache -Kid carefully flicking the sand from -his clothing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now," he said, "that settles us. -We 're quits." And we all walked -slowly and silently back in company toward the city. -When we came to Blaine's "coffee-joint" Apache -Kid stopped, and told me he would see me later in -the evening at the Laughlin House to arrange about -the starting out on our venture. Donoghue wanted -him to go on with him, but Apache Kid said he -must see Blaine again before leaving the city.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I desire to leave a good impression of myself -behind me," he said with a laugh. "I should like -Blaine to feel sorry to hear of my demise when that -occurs, and as things stand I don't think he 'd care, -to use the language of the country, a continental -cuss."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So saying, with a wave of his hand, he entered -Blaine's.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At Baker Street corner Donoghue stopped.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I 'll be seeing you two days from now," he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do we not start for two days then?" I asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"O, Apache Kid will see you to-night and make -all the arrangements about pulling out. So-long, just -now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So I went on to my hotel and, thus rescued from -poverty on the very day that I had the first taste of -it, I felt very much contented and cheered, and it was -with a light and hopeful heart that I wandered out, -after my unusually late supper, along the waggon road -as far as the foothill woods and back, breathing deep -of the thin air of night and rejoicing in the starlight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When I returned to the hotel there was a considerable -company upon the rear verandah, as I could see -from quite a distance—dim, shadowy forms sprawled -in the lounge chairs with the yellow-lit and open -door behind shining out on the blue night, and over -them was the lamp that always hung there in the -evenings, where the parrot's cage hung by day.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When I came on to the verandah I picked out -Apache Kid at once.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A man who evidently did not know him was saying:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you wear that kerchief for, sir, hanging -away down your neck that way?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There were one or two laughs of other men, who -thought they were about to see a man quietly baited. -But Apache Kid was not the man to stand much -baiting, even of a mild stamp.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I think few of the men there, however, understood -the nature that prompted him when he turned slowly -in his chair and said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, sir, I wear it for several reasons."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh! What's them?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, the first reason is personal—I like to wear it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a grin still on the face of the questioner. -He found nothing particularly crushing in this reply, -but Apache went on softly: "Then again, I wear it -so as to aid me in the study of the character of the -men I meet."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"O! How do you work that miracle?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, when I meet a man who does n't seem to -see anything strange in my wearing of the kerchief I -know he has travelled a bit and seen the like -elsewhere in our democratic America. Other men look -at it and I can see they think it odd, but they say -nothing. Well, that is a sign to me that they have -not travelled where the handkerchief is used in this -way, but I know that they are gentlemen all the same."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a slight, a very slight, exulting note in -his voice and I saw the faces of the men on the -outside of the crowd turn to observe the speaker. I -thought the man who had set this ball a-rolling -looked a trifle perturbed, but Apache was not looking -at him. He lay back in his chair, gazing before -him with a calm face. "Then again," he said leisurely, -as though he had the whole night to himself, "if I -meet a man who sees it and asks why I wear it, I know -that he is the sort of man about whom people say -here,—in the language of the country,—'Don't -worry about him; he 's a hog from Ontario and -never been out of the bush before!'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a strained silence after these words. -Some of the more self-reliant men broke it with a -laugh. The most were silent.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm a hog—eh? You call me a hog?" cried -the man, after looking on the faces of those who sat -around. I think he would have swallowed Apache -Kid's speech without a word of reply had it not been -spoken before so large an audience.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I did not say so," said Apache Kid, "but if I -were you, I would n't make things worse by getting -nasty. I tried to josh a man myself this afternoon, -and do you know what I did? I called in on him -to-night to see whether he had savveyed that I had -been trying to josh him. I found out that he had -savveyed, and do you know what I did? I apologised -to him——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"D' ye think I 'm going to apologise for askin' you -that question?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You interrupt me," said Apache Kid. "I apologised -to him, I was going to say, like a man. As to -whether I think you are going to apologise or not—no."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He turned and scrutinised the speaker from head -to toe and back again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," he repeated decidedly. "I should be very -much surprised if you did."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"By Moses!" cried the man. "You take the -thing very seriously. I only asked you——" and -his voice grumbled off into incoherence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said Apache Kid. "I have a name for -being very serious. Perhaps I did answer your -question at too great length, however."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He turned for another scrutiny of his man, and -broke out with such a peal of laughter, as he -looked at him, that every one else followed suit; -and the "josher," with a crestfallen look, rose and -went indoors.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I was still smiling when Apache Kid came over to me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Could you be ready to go out to-morrow at -noon on the Kettle River Gap stage?" he asked -quietly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Certainly," said I. "We don't start from here, -then?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No. That's to say, we don't leave the haunts of -men here. It is better not, for our purpose. Have -you seen Canlan to-night?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I told him no, but that I had been out for my -evening constitutional and not near the city.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He does n't seem to be at this hotel to-night. I -must go out and try to rub shoulders with him if -he's in town. If I see him anywhere around town, I -may not come back here to-night. If I don't see -him, I 'll look in here later in the hope of rubbing -against him. So if you don't see me again to-night, -you 'll understand. To-morrow at noon, the Kettle -River Gap stage."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But neither Apache Kid nor Canlan put in an appearance -all evening, and so I judged that elsewhere -my friend had "rubbed against" Canlan.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I was astonished to find on the morrow that I had, -somewhere within me, a touch of fondness for Baker -City, after all, despitefully though it had used me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You should stay on a bit yet," said Mrs. Laughlin, -when I told her I was going. "You can't expect just -to fall into a good job right away on striking a new -town."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I should never have come here," I explained, -"had it not been that I had a letter to a gentleman -who was once in the city. The fact is, my people at -home did not like the thought of me going out on -speck, and the only man in the country I knew was -in Baker City. But he had moved on before I -arrived."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And where do you think of going now?" she asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I evaded a direct answer, and yet answered -truthfully:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where I wanted to go was into a ranching country. -Mining never took my fancy. I believe there -are some ranches on the Kettle River."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, a terrible life!" she cried out. "They 're a -tough lot, them Kettle River boys. They 're mostly -all fellows that have been cattle-punching and -horse-wrangling all their lives. They come from other -parts where the country is getting filled up with -grangers and sheepmen. I reckon it's because they -feel kind o' angry at their job in life being kind o' -took from them by the granger and the sheepmen -that they 're so tough. Oh! they 're a tough lot; and -they 've got to be, to hold their own. Why, only the -other day there a flock o' sheep came along on the -range across the Kettle. There was three shepherds -with them, and a couple of Colonel Ney's boys out -and held them up. The sheep-herders shot one, and -the other went home for the other boys, all running -blood from another shot, and back they went, and -laid out them three shepherds—just laid them out, -my boy (d'ye hear?)—and ran the whole flock o' -sheep over into a cañon one atop the other. Ney -and the rest only wants men that can look after their -rights that way——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>How long she might have continued, kindly enough, -to seek to dissuade me, I do not know. But I was -forced to interrupt her and remind her I should lose -the stage.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," she said, "I might just have kept my mouth -shut and saved my breath. You lads is all the same. -But mind what I say," she cried after me, "you -should stay on here and rustle yourself a good job. -You 're just going away to 'get it in the neck.' Maybe -you 'll come back here again, sick and sorry. -But seein' you 're going, God bless you, my lad!" -and I was astonished to see her green eyes moist, -and a soft, tender light on her lean, freckled face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So-long, then, lad, and good luck to you," said -her better half. "If you strike into Baker City -again—don't forget the Laughlin House."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I was already in the street, half turning to hear -their parting words, and with a final wave I -departed, and (between you and me) there was a lump -in my throat, and I thought that the Laughlin House -was not such a bad sort of place at all to tarry in.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In Baker Street, at the very corner, I saw Apache -Kid advancing toward me, but he frowned to me -and, when he raised his hand to his mouth to -remove his cigar, for a brief moment he laid a finger -on his lip, and as he passed me, looking on the -ground and walking slowly, he said: "You go -aboard the stage yourself and go on."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was no time to say more in passing, and I -wondered what might be the meaning of this. But -when I came to where the stage-coach stood, there -was Canlan among the little knot of idlers who were -watching it preparing for the road. He saw me -when I climbed aboard, and, stepping forward, held -out his hand. "Hullo, kid," he said, "pulling -out?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said I.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Goin' to pastures green?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I nodded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I want to thank you. I bin keepin' my eyes -open for you since that night. I want to thank you -for that service you done me. Any time you want -a——" but I did not catch his last words. The -driver had mounted the box, gathered up the -"ribbons," sprung back the brake, and with a sudden -leap forward we were off in a whirl of dust. I -nodded my head vigorously to Canlan, glad enough -to see that he was only anxious to be friendly and -to thank me for the service I had rendered him -instead of embarrassing me with questions as to my -destination.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Away we went along Baker Street and shot out -of the town, and there, just at the turning of the -road, was Apache Kid by the roadside, and he -stood aside to let the horses pass. The driver -looked over his shoulder to make sure that he got -on safely, but there was no need to stop the horses, -for with a quick snatch Apache Kid leapt aboard -and sat down, hot, and breathing a little short, -beside me.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-man-with-the-red-head"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER VII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><em class="bold italics medium">The Man with the Red Head</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><img class="dropcap inline" style="height: 6.00em" alt="O" src="images/img-cap-07.jpg" /><span class="dropspan"></span><span>f two incidents that befell on the -journey to Camp Kettle, I must tell -you; of the first because it showed -me Apache Kid's bravery and calm; -and that the first of these two noteworthy -incidents befell at the "Rest Hotel" where -we had "twenty minutes for supper" while the -monster head-lamps were lit for the night journey; -for between Baker City and Camp Kettle there was -one "all-night division," as it was called.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Apache Kid, after getting into the stage, sat silent for -a much longer time than it took him to regain his wind. -The high speed of travel with which we started was -not kept up all the way, needless to say, such bursts -being spectacular affairs for departures and arrivals. -But with our six horses we nevertheless made good -travel.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Occasional trivialities of talk were exchanged -between the travellers—there were three others besides -ourselves—and Apache Kid gave no indication by his -manner that he and I were in any way specially -connected. It was amusing indeed how he acted the -part of one making friendly advances to me as though -to a mere fellow-voyager, including me in his -comments on the road, the weather, the coyotes that -stood watching us passing with bared teeth and ugly -grin. Later, when one of the others fell asleep and the -remaining two struck up a conversation, he remarked:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, that was a hot run I had. Whenever I -turned the far corner of Baker Street I took to my -heels, doubled back behind the block, and sprinted -the whole length of the town. I had to tell another -lie, however, for I saw Canlan in Baker Street, just -when I was thinking of getting aboard the stage. -The driver was in having a drink before starting and, -so as to prevent him raising questions about my -blanket-roll lying in the stage and me not being -there, I told him I had forgotten something at this -end of the town and that I would run along and get -the business done, and he could pick me up in -passing. Lucky he did n't come out then or he would -have wondered at the direction I took. You had n't -turned up, you see, and I knew I must let you know -that it was all right."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He paused and added: "But from to-day, no more -lying. I don't want when I come into this kingdom -of mine to feel that I've got it at the expense of -a hundred cowardly prevarications."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He sat considering a little while.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If Canlan should by any chance get wind of our -departure and follow up——" he began, and then -closed his teeth sharply.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What then?" I asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He 'd be a dead man," said he, "and a good -riddance to the world."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I 'd think murder worse than lying," said I.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tut, tut!" said he. "You look at this from a -prejudiced standpoint. Donoghue and I are going -out to a certain goal. We 've arranged to win -something for ourselves. Well, we 're not going to win -it with humbugging and lying. Where speech would -spoil—we 'll be silent; otherwise we 're going to -walk up like men and claim what's coming to us, -to use the phrase of the country. Heavens! When -I think of what I 've seen, and been, and done, and -then think of all this crawling way of going about -anything—it makes me tired, to use the——" and -he muttered the rest as though by force of habit but -knowing it quite unnecessary to say.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was nothing startling on our journey till the -incident befell which I promised to tell you. It was -when we came to the Rest House, a two-storey frame -house, with a planking built up in front of it two -storeys higher, with windows painted thereon in black -on a white background, making it look, from the -road, like a four-storey building.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When we dismounted there one of the men on the -coach said to the proprietor, who had come out to -the door: "What's the colour of your hash slinger? -Still got that Chink?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I 've still got the Chinaman waiter, sir," replied -the proprietor, in a loud, determined voice, "and if -you don't like to have him serve you—well you -can——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I intend to," said the man, a big, red-faced, -perspiring fellow with bloodshot eyes. "I intend to. -I 'll do the other thing, as you were about to say;" -and he remained seated in the coach, turning his -broad back on the owner of the Rest Hotel.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I won't eat here, either," said Apache Kid to me, -"not so much from desiring in Rome to do as the -Romans do, as because I likewise object to the Chink, -as he is called. You see, he works for what not even -a white woman of the most saving kind could live -upon. But there is such a peculiarly fine cocktail to -be had in this place that I cannot deny myself it. -Come," and we passed wide around the heels of four -restive cow ponies that were hitched at the door, -with lariats on their saddle-pommels and Winchester -rifles in the side-buckets.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Some cowboys in here," said Apache Kid, "up -from Ney's place likely, after strayed stock," and he -led the way to the bar, and seemed rather aggrieved -for a moment that I drew the line at cocktails.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When we entered the bar-room I noticed a man -who turned to look at us remain gazing, not looking -away as did the others. Instead, he bored Apache -Kid with a pair of very keen grey eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Apache evidently was known to the barman, who -chatted to him easily while concocting the drink of -which I had heard such a good account, and both -seemed oblivious to the other occupants of the room. -A flutter of air made me look round to the door again. -Apache Kid had said no word of Donoghue, but I -remembered Donoghue's remark as to seeing me later, -in a day or two, and half expected him to appear here. -But the door was not opening to a newcomer. -Instead, the man who had cast so keen a look on my -friend was going out, and as he went he glanced -backwards toward Apache Kid again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I stepped up to Apache Kid and said: "I don't -like the manner of that man who went out just now. -I'm sure he means mischief of some kind. He gave -you a mighty queer look."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What was he like?" Apache asked, and I -described him, but apparently without waking any -memory or recognition in Apache's mind.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who was that who went out?" he asked, turning -to the barman.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did n't observe, sir," was the reply.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"O! Thought I knew his——" Apache Kid began, -and then said suddenly, as though annoyed at himself: -"No, I 'm damned if I did—did n't think anything -of the kind. Did n't even see him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The barman smiled, and as Apache Kid moved -along the counter away from us to scrutinise an -announcement posted on the wall, said quietly: "He -don't look as if he hed bin drinkin' too much. -Strange how it affects different men; some in the -face, some in the legs. Some keep quite fresh -looking, but when they talk they just talk no manner of -sense at all."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I could have explained what was "wrong" with -Apache Kid, but it was not necessary. Instead, I -stepped back and took my seat with what the -barman called, with a slight sneer, my "soft drink."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Apache Kid turned about and leant upon the -counter. He sipped his cocktail with evident -relish, and suddenly the door flew open. Those in -the room were astonished, for the newcomer had -in his grasp one of those heavy revolvers,—a -Colt,—and he was three paces into the room and -had his weapon levelled on Apache Kid before we -had recovered from our surprise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well!" he cried, "I have you now!" and behind -him in the doorway, the door being slightly ajar, I -caught a glimpse of the man who had gone out so -surreptitiously a few moments before.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Apache Kid's eyes were bright, but there seemed -no fear on his face; I could see none.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You have me now," he said quietly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The man behind the gun, a tall fellow with -close-cropped red hair, lowered his revolver hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I 've waited a while for this," he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said Apache Kid. "To me it is -incomprehensible that a man's memory should serve so -long; but you have the drop on me." Here came -a smile on his lips, and I had a suspicion that it -was a forced smile; but to smile at all in such a pass -I thought wonderful. "You have the drop on me, -Jake,—in the language of the country."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The man Jake lowered his hand wholly then.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You can come away with that old gag of yourn -about the language o' the country, and you right up -against it like this? No, Apache Kid, I can't—say!" -he broke off, "are you heeled?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And I thought to myself: "In the language of the -country that means, 'are you armed?'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am not," said Apache, lightly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The red-headed man—he looked like a cattleman, -for he wore skin leggings over his trousers and spurs -to his high-heeled boots—sent his revolver down -with a jerk into the holster at his hip.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can't do it," he said. "You 're too gritty a -man for me to put out that way."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a quick jingle of his spurs, and he was -gone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A long sigh filled the room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A gritty man, right enough," said one man near -by. "A pair of gritty men, I 'm thinking."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Apache Kid drained his glass, and I heard him say -to the barman:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, he 's no coward. A coward would have -shot whenever he stepped in at the door, and given -me no chance. And even if he had n't done that," -he continued, arguing the thing aloud, in a way I -had already recognised as natural to him, as though -he must scrutinise and diagnose everything, "even -if he had made up his mind to let me off, he would -have backed out behind his gun for fear of me. No, -he 's not a coward."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But you told him you were n't heeled," said the -barman.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh! But I might have been lying," said Apache -Kid, and frowned.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He was n't lying, I bet," said the man near me. -"A cool man like that there don't lie. It's beneath -him to lie."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Apache Kid did not seem to relish the gaze -of the room, and turned his back on it and on me, -leaning his elbows on the bar again and engaging in -talk with the barman, who stood more erect now, I -thought, and held his head higher, with the air of a -man receiving some high honour.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And just then, "All aboard!" we heard the -stage-driver intone at the door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When we came forth again there were only two -horses before the hotel.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The red-headed man and his friend are gone," -thought I, as I climbed to my place, and away we -lumbered through the night, the great headlights -throwing their radiance forward on the road in -overlapping cones that sped before us, the -darkness chasing us up behind.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="what-befell-at-the-half-way-house"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER VIII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><em class="bold italics medium">What Befell at the Half-Way House</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><img class="dropcap inline" style="height: 6.00em" alt="O" src="images/img-cap-08.jpg" /><span class="dropspan"></span><span>f the second incident that befell on the -journey to Camp Kettle I must tell -you because it had a far-reaching effect -and a good deal more to do with our -expedition than could possibly have -been foretold at the time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Of the incident at the Rest House, which I have -just narrated, Apache Kid said nothing, and as -curiosity is not one of my failings (many others -though I have), to question I never dreamt; and -besides, in the West, even the inquisitive learn to -listen without inquiring, and he evidently had no -intention of explaining. But when, at last, after a -very long silence during which our three -fellow-travellers looked at him in the dusk of the coach -(whose only light was that reflected from the lamp-lit -road) with interest, and admiration, I believe, he said -in a low voice which I alone could hear, owing to the -creaking and screaming of the battered vehicle: "I -think you and I had better be strangers; only -fellow-travellers thrown together by chance, not -fellow-plotters journeying together with design."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I understand," said I, and this resolution we -accordingly carried out.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After a night and a day's journey, with only short -stops for watering and "snatch meals," we were -hungry and sleepily happy and tired when we came -to the "Half-Way-to-Kettle Hotel" standing up -white-painted and sun-blistered in the midst of the -sand and sage-brush; and I, for my part, paid little -heed to the hangers-on who watched our arrival, -several of whom stretched hands simultaneously for -the honour of catching the reins which the driver -flung aside in his long-practised, aggressive -manner—a manner without which he had seemed something -less than a real stage-driver.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I noticed that Apache Kid had taken his belt and -revolver from his blanket-roll and now, indeed, was -"heeled" for all men to see, for it was a heavy Colt -he used.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Indoors were tables set, in a room at one side of -the entrance, with clean, white table-cloths and a -young woman waiting to attend our wants after we -had washed the dust of the way from our faces and -hands and brushed the grit from our clothes with a -horse brush which hung in the cool though narrow -hall-way.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Apache Kid sat at one table, I at another, two of -our fellow-voyagers at a third. The remaining -traveller announced to the bearded proprietor who -stood at the door, in tones of something very like -pride, that he wanted no supper except half a pound -of cheese, a bottle of pickles, and a medium bottle of -whisky.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This request, to my surprise, was received without -the slightest show of astonishment; indeed, it seemed -to mark the speaker out for something of a great -man in the eyes of the proprietor who, with a "Very -good, sir—step into the bar-room, sir," ushered the -red-eyed man into the chamber to right, a dim-lit -place in which I caught the sheen of glasses with -their pale reflection in the dark-stained tables on -which they stood.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the dining-room I found my eyes following the -movements of the young woman who attended there. -A broad-shouldered lass she was, and the first thing -about her that caught me, that made me look upon -her with something of contentment after our dusty -travel, was, I think, her clean freshness. She wore a -white blouse, or, I believe, to name that article of -apparel rightly, with the name she would have used, -a "shirt-waist." It fitted close at her wrists which I -noticed had a strong and gladsome curve. The -dress she wore was of dark blue serge. She was -what we men call "spick and span" and open-eyed -and honest, with her exuberant hair tidily brushed -back and lying in the nape of her neck softly, with a -golden glint among the dark lustre of it as she passed -the side window through which the golden evening -sunlight streamed. I had been long enough in the -country to be not at all astonished with the bearing, -as of almost reverence, with which the men treated -her, tagging a "miss" to the end of their every -sentence. The stage-driver, too, for all he was so -terrible and important a man, "missed" her and "if -you pleased" her to the verge of comicality.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I think she herself had a sense of humour, for I -caught a twinkle in her eye as she journeyed to and -fro. That she did so without affectation spoke a deal -for her power over her pride. A woman in such a -place, I should imagine, must constantly find it -advisable to remind herself that there are very few of -the gentler sex in the land and a vast number of men, -and tell herself that it is not her captivating ways -alone that are responsible for the extreme of respect -that is lavished upon her. She chatted to all easily -and pleasantly, with a sparkle in her wide-set eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I think I remember of you on the way up to -Baker City," she said: "about two months ago, -wasn't it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And when I had informed her that it was even so -she asked me how I had fared there. I told her I -thought I might have fared better had I been in -a ranching country.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Can you ride?" she asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I told her no—at least, not in the sense of the -word here. I could keep a seat on some horses, but -the horses I had seen here were such as made me -consider myself hardly a "rider" at all.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She thought it "great," she said, to get on -horseback and gallop "to the horizon and back," as she -put it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It makes you feel so free and glad all over."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I would soon learn, she said, but "the boys" -would have their fun with me to start.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>All this was a broken talk, between her attending -on the tables; and as she kept up a conversation at -each table as she visited it I could not help considering -that her mind must be particularly alert. Perhaps -it was these rides "to the horizon and back" -that kept her mind so agile and her form and face so -pure. It was when she was bringing me my last -course, a dish of apricots, that a man with a rolling -gait, heavy brows, and red, pluffy hands, a big, -unwieldy man in a dark, dusty suit, came in and sat -down at my table casting his arm over the back of -the chair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This fellow "my deared" her instead of following -the fashion of the rest, and surveyed me, with his -great head flung back and his bulgy eyes travelling -over me in an insolent fashion. When she returned -with his first order he put up his hand and chucked -her under the chin, as it is called.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sir," said she, with a pucker in her brows, "I -have told you before that I did n't like that:" and -she turned away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>My vis-à-vis at that turned to his soup, first -glancing at me and winking, and then bending over his -plate he supped with great noise,—something more -than "audible" this,—and perennial suckings of his -moustache.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When the maid came again at his rather peremptory -rattle on the plate, "Angry?" he asks, and -then "Tuts! should n't be angry," and he made -as though to embrace her waist, but she stepped back.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He turned to me, and, wagging his head toward -her, remarked:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She does n't cotton to me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I make no reply, looking blankly in his face as -though I would say: "I don't want anything to do -with you"—just like that.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ho!" he said, and blew through his nose at me, -thrusting out his wet moustache. "Are you deaf or -saucy?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I looked at him then alert, and rapped out sharply: -"I had rather not speak to you at all, sir. But as to -your remark, I am not astonished that the young lady -does not cotton to you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With the tail of my eye, as the phrase is, I knew -that there was a turning of faces toward me then, and -my lady drew herself more erect.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ho!" cried the bully. "Here's a fane how-de-do -about nothing! You want to learn manners, young -man. I reckon you have n't travelled much, else -you would know that gentlemen setting down -together at table are not supposed to be so mighty -high-toned as to want nothin' to do with each other."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I heard him to an end, and, laying down my spoon, -"With gentlemen—yes," I said, "there can be no -objection to talk, even though your remark is an -evasion of the matter at present. But seeing you -have gone out of your way to blame my manners, I -will make bold to say I don't like yours."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The girl stepped forward a pace and, "Sir, sir," she -began to me and the bully was glaring on me and -crying out, "Gentlemen! 'between gentlemen' you -say, and what you insinuate with that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But I waved aside the girl and to him I began:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have been in this country some time, sir, and I -may tell you that I find you at the top of one list in -my mental notes. Up to to-night I have never seen -a woman insulted in the West——" and then, as is a -way I have and I suppose shall have a tendency to -till the end of my days, though I ever strive to master -it (and indeed find the periods between the loss of -that mastery constantly lengthening), I suddenly -"flared up."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To say more in a calm voice was beyond me and I -cried out: "But I want no more talk from you, sir; -understand that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ho!" he began. "You——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But I interrupted him with: "No more, sir; -understand!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And then in a tone which I dare say savoured very -much as though I thought myself quite a little ruler -of men, I said: "I have told you twice now not to -say more to me. I only tell you once more."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good Lord!" he cried. "Do you think you can -scare me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's the third time," said I, mastering the -quaver of excitement in my voice, lest he should take -it for a quaver of fear. "Next time I don't speak at -all."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Maybe neither do I," said he, and he lifted the -water carafe as though to throw the contents on me, -but he never did so; for I leant quickly across the -table and with the flat of my hand slapped him -soundly on the cheek, as I might have slapped a side -of bacon, and, "That," said I, "is for insulting the -lady."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was "clear decks for action" then, for he flung -back his chair and, spinning around the end of the -table, aimed a blow at me; but I had scarce time to -guard, so quick was he for all his size. I took the -simplest guard of all—held my left arm out rigidly, -the fist clenched, and when he lunged forward to -deliver the blow I ducked my shoulder but kept my fist -still firm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was a fierce blow that he aimed, but it slipped -over my shoulder and then there was an unpleasant -sound—a soft, sloppy sound—for his nose and my -rigid fist had met. Then the blood came, quite a -fountain. But this only heated him and he dealt -another blow which I received with the "cross-guard," -one of the best guards in the "straight on" system -of boxing, a system generally belittled, but very useful -to know.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I think he had never seen the guard in his life, -there was so astonished a look on his face; but -before he recovered I had him down with a jar on -the floor so that the floor and windows rattled,—and -his brains, too, I should imagine.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He sat up glaring but something dazed and shaken. -God forgive me that I have so feeble a control of my -passions once they are roused and such a horrible -spirit of exultation! These have their punishment, of -course, for a man who exults over such a deed, -instead of leaving it to the onlookers to congratulate, -falls in their estimation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>However, to give over moralising, I cried out, as he -sat up there on the floor with the blood on his face -and chin and trickling on his thick neck: "Come -on! Sit up! If you lie malingering, I 'll kick you -to your feet! I 'm only beginning on you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I think the onlookers must have smiled to hear me, -for, though so far I had got the better, the match was -an absurd one. But my foe was a man of a bad -spirit; without rising he flung his hand round to -his hip.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I had a quick glimpse of the girl clasping her -hands and heard the gasp of her breath and her -voice: "Stop that now—none of that!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But another voice, very complacent and with a -mocking, boyish ring, broke in:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Throw up your hands, you son of a dog!" And -then I ceased to be the centre of interest and my -brain cleared, for Apache Kid was sitting at his table, -his chair pushed back a little way, his legs wide apart -as he leant forward, his left hand on the left knee, his -right forearm lying negligently on the right leg—and -loosely in his hand was a revolver pointed at -the gentleman on the floor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The other two were looking on from under their -brows, the stage-driver sitting beaming on the scene. -The girl swung round on Apache with an infinite -relief discernible in her face and gesture. The cook -who had come from the rear of the room, having -seen the business through the wicket window from -his pantry, I suppose, cried out: "Make him take -out his gun and hand it over, sir."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Apache did not turn at the voice, but, "You hear -that piece of advice?" said he. "Well, I 'm not going -to take it. You can keep your little toy in your -hip-pocket. Do you know why? Because you can do -no harm here with it. Before you could get your -hand an inch to it my Colt's bullet would have let -all the wind sighing out of your contemptible -carcass."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then he gave a laugh, a chuckling, quiet, hearty -laugh in his throat, hardly opening his lips and -added: "In the language of the country, sir, I would -advise you to shake a leg—to get up and get—hike—before -I plug you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And up rose the man, a commercial traveller (as -the girl told me afterwards when trying to thank -me—for what I cannot say, as I told her at the time), -or a "drummer," as the name is, who had been there -since yesterday's Baker-bound stage arrived, -drinking at the bar and making himself disagreeable in -the dining-room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He looked a sorry figure as he shuffled from the -chamber.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I turned to Apache Kid and began: "You saved -my life, A——" but his frown reminded me that we -were strangers;—"sir," I ended, "and I have to -thank you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's all right, sir; that's all right, sir. Don't -mention it," said Apache Kid, throwing his revolver -back into its holster.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That was the end of the drummer; we saw him no -more that night, and when we came down in the -morning we were told he had gone on to Baker City -with the stage which went west earlier by an hour -than the one toward the railway, the one we were -to continue in—part of its journey.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But when we came to settle our bill the proprietor -drew his hand under his long beard and put his head -on the side—reminding me of a portrait of Morris I -had seen—and remarked, looking from Apache to -me and back again: "Well, gentlemen, I 'd consider -it a kind of honour to be allowed to remember that -I did n't ask nothing for putting you up. I should n't -like to remember about you, any time, and to think -to myself that I had charged you up. I 'd be kind -of honoured if you 'd let me remember I did n't take -nothing from you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We did not speak, but Apache's bow was something -to see, and with a hearty shake of the hand we -mounted the stage.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Look up tew the window, my lad," said the driver, -gathering up his reins. "Look up tew the window -and get what's comin' to you; a smile to warm the -cockles of your heart for the rest o' the trip."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And sure enough we had a smile and a wave of -a strong and graceful hand from the upper window -and raised our hats and bowed and were granted -another wave and another also from the proprietor—and -a wave from the cook at the gable of the -house. And looking round again, as we rolled off, -there was the fresh white girl standing at the door -now.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She raised her hand to her lips and I felt a little -sorry in my heart. I did not like to think she was -going to "blow a kiss:" it would be a cheapening -of herself methought. Then I felt a little regretful, -for she did not blow a kiss, but kept her hand to her -mouth as long as she remained there.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We went on in silence and then I heard Apache -Kid murmur: "Did she mean it or did she not?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mean what?" I asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you mean?" said he, alert suddenly. -"Oh! I was talking to myself:" and then he said in -a louder tone: "Excuse me, sir, for asking, but do -you not carry a gun?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," said I, with a smile part at this revival of -his old caution and part at something else.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Can you shoot?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I shook my head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," said he, "this period of the history of the -West is a transition period. The old order changeth, -giving place to new. Fists are settling trouble that -was formerly settled with the gun. But the trouble -of the transition period is that you can never be sure -whether it's to be a gun or the fists. Men like that -drummer, too, carry a gun—but they carry it out of -sight and you don't know it's there for certain. I -advocate the gun carried openly; and I think you -should begin right away learning its use. I must -look up that remark of Carlyle's, first time I can, -about the backwoods being the place where manners -flourish. I want to see from the context if he did n't -really mean it. Most people think it was sarcasm, -but if it was, it should n't have been. Manners do -flourish in all backwoods, until the police come in -and the gun goes out, and it's the presence of the -gun that keeps everybody mannerly. The gun does it. -Now see—you hold a revolver like this," and he -exemplified as he spoke. "The usual method of -grasping a revolver is with the forefinger pressing the -trigger, and even many experts follow this method; but, -with all due respect to the advocates of that method, -it is not the best. The best way to hold a revolver is -with the second finger pressing the trigger, the -forefinger extending along the side of the barrel like this, -you see. That is the great desideratum in -endeavouring to make a shot with a revolver—keeping -the thing steady. It kicks under the muscular action -required to pull the trigger with the forefinger, and -unless one is thoroughly practised the bullet will fly -above the mark aimed at. Remember, too, to grip -tight, or with these heavy guns you may get your -thumb knocked out. Then you throw your hand up -and bring it down and just point at what you want to -kill—like that!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Biff!" went the revolver, and I saw the top leaves -on a sage-brush fly in the air.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The horses snorted and leapt forward and the -driver flung a look over his shoulder, a gleeful look, -and, gathering the reins again, cried out, "My gosh, -boys! Keep it up, and we 'll make speed into Camp -Kettle. Say, this is like old days!" he cried again, -when Apache Kid snapped a second time and we -went rocking onward.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So we "kept it up," Apache indicating objects for -me to aim at, watching my manner of aiming, and -coaching me as we went. It seemed to be infectious, -for the traveller who had before kept to himself -whipped out a "gun" from some part of his clothing -and potted away at the one side while we potted at the -other. The other two, the one who had suppered on -cheese, pickles, and whisky, and breakfasted on the -same, like enough, and the man with whom he had -struck up an acquaintanceship, wheeled about and -potted backwards; and at that the driver grew -absolutely hilarious, got out his whip and cracked it loud -as the revolver shots, crying out now and again: -"Say, this is the old times back again!" and so we -volleyed along the uneven road till dusk fell on the -mountains to north and the bronze yellow plain to -south and sunset crimsoned the western sky. And -lights were just beginning to be lit when, in a flutter -of dust and banging of the leathern side-blinds and -screaming of the gritty wheels, we came rocking down -the hillside into Camp Kettle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But at sight of that Apache Kid turned to me, and -with the look of a man suddenly recollecting, he said, -in a tone of one ashamed: "Well, well! Here we -are advertising ourselves for all we 're worth, when -our plan should have been one of silence and -self-effacement."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," said I, "we can creep quietly up to bed -when we reach the hotel here, and let no one see us, -if that is what you are anxious about."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You 'll have no more bed now, Francis," he said -quietly. "No more bed under a roof, no more hotel -now until——" and here for the first time he -acknowledged in actual, direct speech the goal of our -journey, "until we lie down to sleep with our guns -in our hands and our boots on——" he put his -mouth to my ear and whispered, "in the Lost Cabin."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="first-blood"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER IX</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><em class="bold italics medium">First Blood</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><img class="dropcap inline" style="height: 6.00em" alt="I" src="images/img-cap-09.jpg" /><span class="dropspan"></span><span>t would hardly astonish me, and -certainly not offend me, to know that -you found a difficulty in believing -possible such a sight as Camp Kettle -presented on our arrival. It made -me shudder to see it, and the picture is one that I -never remember without melancholy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They seem to be celebrating here," said he of -the red eyes as a hideous din of shrieking and -curses came up to us.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And "celebrating" they were, that day being, as -Apache Kid now recollected, the anniversary of the -first discovery of mineral in that place. Of such a -kind was this celebration that the stage-driver had -to dismount and drag no fewer than three drunken -men from the road, which irritated him considerably, -spoiling as it did his final dash up to the hotel door. -But it served our turn better; for here, before -entering Camp Kettle, we alighted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Camp Kettle is built in the very midst of the -woods, the old veterans of the forest standing -between the houses which stretch on either side of -the waggon road, looking across the road on each -other from between the firs, so that a traveller -coming to the place by road is fairly upon it before he -is well aware. But on that day—or night—there -were strips of bunting hanging across the waggon -road, not from the houses, for they were all mere -log huts, but from the trees on either side; and -the forest rang with shouting and drunken laughter. -Just where we alighted were several great, hewn -stones by the roadside, with marks of much -trampling around them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There 's been a rock-drilling contest here," said -Apache Kid, pointing to the holes in the centre of -these rocks, as we struck into the bush and came -into Kettle from behind.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Here and there, backward from the front huts, -were others dotted about in cleared spaces, and all -were lit up, and doors standing open and men -coming and going, lurching among the wandering -tree-roots and falling over stumps still left there. And -the whole bush round about you might have thought -the scene of a recent battle, what with the drunken -men lying here and there in all manner of attitudes, -with twisted bodies and sprawled legs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Some few fellows in their coming and going spoke -to us, crying on us to "come and have a drink," -but it was only necessary for us to move on -heedlessly so as to evade them—so dazed and puzzled -were they all and seemed to lose sight of us at -once, wheeling about and crying out to the twilit -woods. At some of the cabins horses stood hitched, -snorting and quivering ever and again, their ears -falling back and pricking forward in terror.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For once," said Apache Kid to me, "I have to -be grateful for the presence of the despised Dago -and the Chinee. The Dago may be a little fuddled, -but not too much to attend to our wants in the way -of horses, and he is not likely to talk afterwards. -The Chinee will be perfectly calm among all this, -and he, for a certainty, will not speak. Here's the -Chinee joint. Come along."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He thrust open the door of a long, low house and -we entered into a babel of talk, that ceased on the -instant, and closed the door behind us.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We had a glimpse of a back room with a group -of Chinamen who looked up on us with eyes a trifle -agitated, but, I suppose on seeing that we were not -the worse of liquor, they bent again over their tables, -and we heard the rattle of dominoes again and their -quick, voluble, pattering talk.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A very staid, calm-faced Chinaman, his high -forehead lit up by a lamp which hung over a desk by -which he stood, turned to us, and, looking on us -through large horn spectacles, bowed with great -dignity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good evening," said Apache Kid.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good evening," said he.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We want three mats of rice," said Apache Kid, -and this placid gentleman called out a word or two -to one of his assistants, and the rice was hauled down -from the shelf. Then we bought three small bags of -flour and two sides of bacon, and all this was tied up -for us and set by the door to await our return; and -off we went out of that place with the smell of strange -Eastern spices in our nostrils.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not so long ago," said Apache Kid, "these fellows -would not have been tolerated here at all. Then -they were allowed an entrance and tolerated; but -they only sold rice to begin with, and nothing more, -except, perhaps, cranberries, to the hotel, which they -gathered on the foothills. Now, as you see, they run -a regular store. But on such nights as this it -behooves them to keep indoors lest the white populace -regret having allowed them within their gates. But -John Chinaman is very wise. He keeps out of sight -when it is advisable. Here's the livery stable."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The stout Italian who stood at the door of the -stable, toying with a cigarette, frowned on us through -the darkness, and seemed a trifle astonished, I thought, -at our request for horses. But he bade us follow him, -and by the aid of two swinging lamps Apache Kid -selected three horses, two for riding and one pack-horse.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But you ain't pull out to-night, heh?" said the -Italian in his broken English.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said Apache.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You going down to Placer Camp or up to mountains?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Apache Kid was drawing the cinch tight on the -pony I was to ride (the Italian was saddling the -other), and he merely turned and shot the questioner -such a look as made me feel—well, that I should not -like to be the Italian.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I thought then that, for all his slim build, this -partner of mine, so quiet, so deliberate, must have seen -and done strange things in his day, and been in -peculiar corners to learn a glance like that. If ever -a look on a man's face could cow another, it was such -a look as Apache Kid flung to the Italian then.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Back to the Chinese store we went, leading our -steeds, and there roped on our pack.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you sell rifles?" asked Apache Kid.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, sir, vely good line," and so Apache added a -Winchester, which was thrust atop of the load, and -two of the small boxes of cartridges.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This was just finished when a voice broke in: -"Goin' prospectin'?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We wheeled about to see a foolish-faced man, with -shifty eyes and slavering mouth, standing by, with -firm enough legs, to be sure, but his body swaying -left and right from the hips as though it were set -there on a swivel.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said Apache.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Going prospectin' without a pick or a hammer or -a shu-huvel," said the man, and hiccoughed and -dribbled again at the mouth, and then he sat down on -a tree-stump and broke out in a horrible drunken -weeping, the most distressful kind of intoxicated fool -I ever saw, and moaned to himself: "Goin' -prospectin' without a—with on'y a gun at the belt and -a Winchester," and he put his hand to his forehead -and, bending forward, wept copiously. I looked on -the Chinaman who stood by, placid and expressionless, -and I was ashamed of my race.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For the love of God," said Apache, "let us get -out of this pitiful hell— Good-bye, John," to the -Chinaman, who raised his lean hand and waved in -farewell in a gesture of the utmost suavity and respect, -and then we struck south (the Chinaman entering his -store), and left that pitiable creature slobbering upon -the tree-stump, left the din and outcrying and -hideousness behind us, my very stomach turning at the -sounds, and Apache, too, I think, affected unpleasantly. -We went directly to the south upon the track -that led to the Placer Camp on Kettle River.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On either side of us the forest thinned out there, -but the place was full of a wavering light, for the -tree-stumps to left and right of the track were all -smouldering with little, flickering blue flames, and -sending up a white smoke, for this is the manner of -clearing the forest after the trees are felled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Through this place of flickering lights and -waving shadows we still progressed, leading our horses. -Here Apache Kid looked round sharply, and at the -moment I heard a sound as of a twig snapping, but -from what quarter the sound came I could not tell. -We were both then looking back, half expecting to -see some one issue forth behind us into the light of -that space where the tree-stumps spluttered and flared -and smoked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Perhaps it was just one of these stumps crackling," -said I.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It did n't sound just like that; however, I suppose -that was all," Apache Kid replied. "Well this is our -route now." And we struck west through the timber, -back in the direction that Baker City lay, keeping in a -line parallel to the waggon road. And ever and again -as we went Apache emitted a low, long whistle and -hearkened and whistled again, and hearkened and -seemed annoyed at the silence alone replying.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then, coming to the end of the place of smouldering -stumps, we struck back as though to come out -on the waggon road before its entering into Camp -Kettle. "Where in thunder is Donoghue?" snapped -Apache Kid, and suddenly the horse I was leading -swung back with a flinging up of its head. Apache -Kid was leading the other two and they also began a -great dancing and snorting.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We have you covered!" cried a harsh voice. -"No tricks now! Just you keep holt of them reins. -If you let 'em drop, your name is Dennis! That 'll -be something to occupy your hands."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I think the voice quieted the horses, if it perturbed -us, for they became tractable on the instant and -ceased their trembling and waltzing. And there, -risen out of a bush before us, stood two men, one with -a Winchester at the ready and the other with his left -hand raised, the open palm facing us, and a revolver -looking at me over that, his "gun hand" being -steadied on the left wrist.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I had seen Apache Kid in a somewhat similar -predicament before, but his coolness again amazed me. -And, if I may be permitted to say so, I astonished -myself likewise, for after the first leap of the heart -I stood quite easy, holding my horse—more like -an onlooker than a participant in this unchancy -occurrence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I think you have made a mistake, gentlemen," -said Apache Kid.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, no mistake at all," said he with the Winchester. -"I 've just come out to make you an offer, -Apache Kid."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You have my name," said Apache Kid, "but I -have n't the pleasure of yours."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why," said I, "I 've seen that man at the -Laughlin House;" and at the same moment Apache Kid -recognised the other in a sudden flickering up of one -of the nighest stumps.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, it's my old inquisitive friend—the hog," -said he, looking on him. "Where did you learn that -theatrical style of holding up a gun to a man? -Won't you introduce your friend?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's all right," said the other. "I want you to -listen to me. Here's what we are offering you. You -can either come right along with us to Camp Kettle -and draw out a sketch plan of where the Lost Cabin -Mine lies, or else——" he raised his Winchester.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Apache Kid whistled softly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How would it suit you," said he, after what -seemed a pause for considering the situation into -which we had fallen, "if I drew up the sketch after -you plugged me with the Winchester?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"O!" cried the man. "The loss of a fortune's on -the one hand. The loss o' your life's on the other. -We give you the choice."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It seems to me," said Apache Kid, "that your -hand is the weaker in this game; for on your side is -the loss of a fortune or the taking of a life."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I 'd call that the stronger hand, I guess," said the -man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, all a matter of the point of view," murmured -Apache Kid, with an appearance of great ease. "But -presuming that I am aware of the location of that -place, what assurance could I have that once you had -the sketch in your hands you would n't slip my -wind—in the language of the country?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He with the revolver, I noticed, glanced a moment -at his partner at that, but quickly turned his attention -to us again. "Besides, I might draw up a fake map -and send you off on a wild goose chase," said Apache -Kid, as though with a sudden inspiration.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We've thought of that," said he with the Winchester, -"and you 'd just wait with a friend of ours -while we went to make sure o' the genewinness o' -your plan."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh! That's what I'd do?" said Apache Kid, -and stood cheeping with his lips a little space and -staring before him. Then turning to me, "I 'm up -against it now," he said, "in the language of the -country. The terms are all being made for me and -at this rate——" he swung round again to these -two—"you really mean that you are so bent on this that -if I did n't speak up, did n't give you the information -you wanted, you'd—eh—kill me—kill the goose -with the golden eggs?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I marked a change in the tone of Apache's voice, -and looking at him noticed that there was a glitter in -his eye and his breath was coming through his nostrils -in fierce gusts, and under his breath he muttered: -"The damned fools! I could keep them blithering -here till morning!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We might find other means to get the right of it -out of you," said the man with the Winchester. "I 've -seen a bit of the Indians from whom you take your -name, and I reckon some of their tricks would bring -you to reason."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What!" cried Apache Kid. "You'd threaten -that, would you? You'd insult me—coming out -with a hog like that to hold me up, too," and he -pointed at the man with the revolver.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come! Come!" cried he of the Winchester, -"easy wi' that hand. If you don't come to a -decision before I count three, you 're a dead man. -I 'll run chances on finding the Lost Cabin Mine -myself. Come now, what are you going to do? -One——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Excuse me interrupting," said Apache Kid, "but -are you aware that the gentleman you have brought -with you there is an incompetent?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Haow?" said the Winchester man. "What you mean?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That!" said Apache Kid, and, leaping back and -wheeling his horse between the Winchester and -himself, he had plucked forth his revolver and— But -another crack—the crack of a rifle—rang out in the -forest. I am not certain which was first, but there, -before my eyes, the two men, who had a moment -earlier stood exulting over us, sank to the earth, he -with the revolver falling second, so that as he sagged -down I heard the breath of life, one might have -thought, belch out of him. It was really the gasp, I -suppose, when the bullet struck him, but it was the -most helpless sound I ever heard in my life—something -like the quack of a duck. Sorry am I that ever -I heard that sound, for it, I believe, more than the -occurrence of that night itself, seemed to sadden me, -give me a drearier outlook on life. I wonder if I -express myself clearly? I wonder if you understand -what I felt in my heart at that sound? Had he died -with a scream, I think I should have been less haunted -by his end.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>If our horses shied at the smell of men whom they -could not see, they were evidently well enough -accustomed to the snap of firearms, for beyond a quick -snort they paid no heed. As for me, I found then -that I had been a deal more upset by this meeting -than I had permitted myself to believe; and my -nerves must have been terribly strung, for no sooner -had they fallen than I shuddered throughout my -body, so that I must have looked like one suffering -from St. Vitus dance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Apache Kid looked at me with a queer, pained -expression on his face, scrutinising me keenly and -quickly and then looking away. And into the wavering -light of the burning stumps came Donoghue, with -his rifle lying in the crook of his arm, right up to us -and began speaking. No, I cannot call it speaking. -There was no word intelligible. His eyes were the -eyes of a sober man, but when he spoke to us not a -word could we distinguish, and he seemed aware of -that himself, spluttering painfully and putting his -hand to his mouth now and again, as with a sort of -anger at himself and his condition. Then suddenly, -as though remembering something, away he went -through the timber the way he had come.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Fancy being killed by that!" said Apache Kid, -wetting his lips with his tongue, and a sick look on -his face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What's wrong with him?" said I.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Drunk," said he, and never a word more. But he -followed Donoghue, to where stood a horse, the reins -hitched to a tree.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's a tough looking mount he's got," said -Apache Kid, and then, like an afterthought: "Try to -forget about those two fellows lying there," he added -to me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I looked at him in something of an emotion very -nigh horror.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Have they to lie there till—till they are found?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said he, "by the wolves to-night—if the -light of the stumps doesn't keep them off. Failing -that, to-morrow—by the buzzards."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I looked round then, scarcely aware of the movement, -and there, between the trees, I saw the clearing -with the smouldering, twinkling stumps.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The leader of these two lay with his back and his -heels and the broad soles of his feet toward me; but -the other, "the hog from Ontario," lay looking after us, -with his dead eyes and his face lighting and shadowing, -lighting up and shadowing pitifully in that ghastly glow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I turned round no more. I breathed in relief -when we came clear of the forest into the open, sandy -ground; but when I saw the stars thick in the sky, -Orion, Cassiopeia, and Ursa Major, the tears welled -in my eyes; they seemed so far from the terrors of -that place.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I 'll wait till you mount," said Apache Kid, -holding my horse's head while I gathered the reins.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When I raised my foot to the stirrup the beast -swerved; but at the third try I got in my foot, and -with a spring gained the high saddle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Donoghue's mount was walking sedately enough, -but all the lean body of it had an evil look. Apache -stood to watch his partner mount to the saddle. -Donoghue flung the reins over the horse's neck and -came to its left. He seemed to remember its -nature, despite his condition then, for he ran his hand -over the saddle and gave a tug to the cloth to see -that it was firm. Then with a quick jerk, before -the horse was well aware, he had yanked the cinch -up another hole or two. At this, taken by surprise, -the beast put its ears back and hung its head and -its tail between its legs. Donoghue pulled his hat -down on his head, caught the check-rein with his -left and clapped his right hand to the high, round -pommel. There was a moment's pause; he cast a -quick glance to the horse's head; thrust his foot into -the huge stirrup, and with a grunt and a mighty -swing was into the saddle. And then the beast -gathered itself together and with an angry squeal -leapt from the ground. Half a dozen times it went -up and down, as you have perhaps seen a cat or a -ferret do—with stiff legs and humped back. But -Donoghue seemed part of the heavy, creaking saddle, -and after these lurchings and another half-dozen -wheelings the brute calmed. Apache Kid swung -himself up to his horse and we struck on to the stage -road in the light of the stars.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And just then there came a clinking of horse's -hoofs to our ears and there, on the road coming up -from Camp Kettle, and bound toward Baker City, -was an old, grey-bearded man leading a pack-horse -and spluttering and coughing as he trudged ahead in -the dust.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's a good night, gentlemen," he said, stopping -and eyeing us—Donoghue across the road, in the -lead, and already a few paces up the hillside, Apache -Kid with the led horse, I blocking his passage way.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes; it's a fair night," said Apache Kid, civilly -enough, but I thought him vexed at this encounter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's a cough I take at times," said the old man, -wheezing again. "I 'm getting up in years. Yes, -you 're better to camp out in the hills instead of going -into Camp Kettle to-night. I 've seen some camps -in my day—I 'm gettin' an old man. No; I could n't -stop in that place to-night."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His pack-horse stood meekly behind him, laden -up with blankets, pans, picks, and the inevitable -Winchester.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, siree, you 're better in the hills, a fine starry -night o' summer, instead of down there. It's a -cough I have," he wheezed. "I 'm gettin' an old -man. Any startling news to relate?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nothing startling," said Apache Kid.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What you think o' the rush to Spokane way? -Anything in it, think you?" said the old man in his -slow, weary voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"O, I think——" began Apache Kid, but the old -man seemed to forget he had put a question.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What you think o' this part o' the country?" he -asked, and then abruptly, without evidently desiring -an answer: "Well, well, I 'll give you good night. -I 'll keep goin' on, till I get a good camp place—maybe -all night I don't like Camp Kettle to-night," -and grumbling something about being an old man -now, he plodded on, his pack-horse waking up at the -jerk on the rein and following behind.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Aye," sighed Apache Kid to me, "no wonder -they say 'as crazy as a prospector.' It's the hills -that do it. The hills and the loneliness and all that," -he said with a wave of his hand in the starshine. -Then suddenly he spurred forward his horse upon -Donoghue and in a low, vehement voice: "Stop that, -Donoghue!" he said. "What on earth are you -wanting to do?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For Donoghue was glaring after the weary old -prospector and dragging his Winchester from the -sling at his saddle. He managed to splutter out the -word "blab" as he pointed after the man and then -pulled again at the Winchester which he found -difficult to get free. But Apache Kid smote Donoghue's -horse upon the flank and pressed him forward and so -we left the road and began breasting the hill with the -stars, brilliant and seeming larger to me than ever -they seemed seen through the atmosphere of the old -country, shining down on us out of a cloudless sky.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Perhaps it had been better had Donoghue got his -rifle free, callous though it may seem to say so. For -other lives might have been spared and these mountains, -into the foothills of which we now plunged, have -not been assoiled with the blood of many had that -one solitary old prospector ceased his weary seekings -and his journeyings there, as Donoghue intended.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="in-the-enemy-s-camp"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER X</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><em class="bold italics medium">In the Enemy's Camp</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><img class="dropcap inline" style="height: 6.00em" alt="I" src="images/img-cap-10.jpg" /><span class="dropspan"></span><span>n a little fold of the hills we made our -camp, somewhere about two in the -morning, I should think.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Donoghue rolled off his horse at a -word from Apache Kid, and stood -yawning and grunting, but Apache Kid had his partner's -blankets undone in a twinkling and bade him lie -down and go to sleep. Then he hobbled the horses -and, sitting down on his own blanket-roll, which he -had not undone:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Could you eat anything?" said he.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Eat!" I ejaculated.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, sleep, then?" he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Aye, I could sleep," said I. "I should like to -sleep never to awaken."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"As bad as that?" said he.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Look here," said I. "I 've just been thinking -that I——" and I stopped.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Something was creeping stealthily along the ridge -of the cup in which we sat, and the horses were all -snorting, drowning the sound of Donoghue's deep -breathing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's only a coyote," said Apache Kid, looking -up in the direction of my gaze. "You look tired, -my boy," he added in a kindlier voice. "Well, if -these fellows are going to sit round us, I suppose -I 'd better make a fire; but I did n't want to. We 'll -make a small one. You know what the Indians say: -'Indian make small fire and lie close; white man -make big fire and lie heap way off. White man dam -fool!' And there is some sense in it. We don't want -to light a beacon to-night, anyway."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So saying, he rose and cried "Shoo!" to the -skulking brutes that went round and round our -hollow, showing lean and long against the sky.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I watched him going dim and shadowy along the -hill-front, where contorted bushes waved their arms -now and then in the night wind. He took a small -axe with him, from the pouch of his saddle, and I -heard the clear "ping" of it now and then after he -himself was one with the bushes. And there I sat -with my weary thoughts beside the snoring man and -the horses huddling close behind me, as though for -my company, and the prowl, prowl of the coyotes -round and round me. Then suddenly these latter -scattered again and Apache Kid returned, like a -walking tree beside the pale sky, and made up a -fire and besought me to lie down, which I had no -sooner done than I fell asleep, for I was very -weary.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now and then I woke and heard far-off cries,—of -wildcats, I suppose,—and saw the stars twinkling in -the heavens and the little parcel of fire flickering at -my feet; but the glow of Apache Kid's cigarette -reassured me each time, and though once I thought -of asking him if he himself did not want to sleep, so -heavy with sleep was I that I sank again into oblivion -ere the thought was fairly formed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So it was morning at last, when I came again -broad awake, and Apache Kid was sitting over the -fire with the frying-pan in hand. Indeed, the first -thing I saw on waking was the flip he gave to the -pan that sent the pancake—or flapjack, as it is -called—twirling in the air. And as he caught it -neatly on the undone side and put the pan again -on the blaze (that the morning sunlight made a -feeble yellow) I gathered that he was catechising -Donoghue, who sat opposite him staring at him very -hard across the fire.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," Larry was saying, "I got a horse all right, -and gave out at the stable that I was going to the -Placer Camp, and struck south right enough and -went into the bit where we were to meet and sat -there waiting you, and not a soul came nigh hand -all the derned time."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How do you know, when you acknowledge you -were as drunk as drunk?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How do I know?" said Donoghue. "Why, -drunk or sober, I never lose anything more than -my speech."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"True," said Apache. "But you 're a disgusting -sight when you are trying to talk and——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, well; let that drop," said Donoghue. "I -was sober enough to let the wind out of that fellow -that held up you two."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thanks to you," said Apache Kid. "Which -reminds me that there may be others on the track -of us; though how these fellows followed so quick -I——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"O, pshaw!" said Donoghue. "You must have -come away careless from Baker City. I saw the -stage comin' in from where I was layin', and I saw -them two fellows comin' up half an hour after."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"O!" said Apache Kid, paying no heed to the -charge of a careless departure. "And anybody else -suspicious-looking?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Donoghue shook his head. But the meal was now -ready, and I do not know when I enjoyed a meal as -I did that flapjack and the bacon and the big canful -of tea made with water from a creek half a mile along -the hill, as Apache Kid told me, so that I knew he -had been busy before I awoke. I felt a little easier -at the heart now than on the night before, and less -inclined to renounce my agreement and return. -But suddenly, as we were saddling up again, the -thought of those dead men came into my head; -and though of a certainty they had been evil men, -yet the thought that these two with me had taken -human lives gave me a "grew," as the Scots say.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I turned about and looked at my companions.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Would you be annoyed if I suggested turning -back?" I asked, coming right to the point.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was Donoghue who answered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Guess we would n't be annoyed; but you would n't -get leave, you dirty turncoat."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Apache turned wrathfully on him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Turncoat?" he cried. "Do you think he wants -to go down and give us away? If you do, you 're -off the scent entirely. It 's the thought of those dead -men that has sickened him of coming."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"O, pshaw!" cried Donoghue, grinning. "Sorry -I spoke, Francis. There 's my fist; shake. Never -mind the dead men."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We "shook," but I have to say that I did not -relish the feel of that hand, somehow. He was a man, -this, who lived in a different world from mine.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, sure you can go back, if you like," said -he. And then suddenly he caught himself up and -said: "No, no, for the love of God don't do that! -Apache Kid and me don't do with being alone in the -mountains."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On one point at least this man felt deeply, it would -appear.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," said Apache Kid to me. "That's a better -tone of Donoghue's. To beseech a favour is always -better than to threaten or to attempt coercion and I -must add my voice to his and ask you to come on -with us. Though personally," he added, "had I once -made a compact with anyone, I would carry it through -to the bitter end."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I should never have suggested this," said I, -feeling reproved. "I will not mention it again."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This was the end of my uncertainty, and we rode -on through the June day till we came to the north -part of the Kettle River, gurgling and bubbling and -moving in itself with sucking, oily whirlpools, and -travelled beside it a little way and then left it at the -bend where it seethed black and turbid with a sound -like a herd bellowing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The creek we came to at noon was kindlier, with a -song in place of a cry; swift flowing it was, so that it -nearly took our horses from their feet as we crossed -it, or the nigher half of it, rather (for we camped on -an islet in the midst of it and the second crossing was -shallower and easy), but, though swift as the Kettle, it -made one lightsome instead of despondent to see. -The sun shone down into its tessellated bed, all the -pebbles gleaming. The rippling surface sparkled and -near the islet was dappled over with the thin shadows -of the birches that stood there balancing and -swaying. And scarcely had we begun our meal when we -heard a clatter midst the pebbles and a splashing in -the water, and there came an old Indian woman on a -tall horse, with a white star on its forehead, and pots -and kettles hanging on either side of it. It came up -with dripping belly out of the creek and went -slapping past us in the sand and the old dame's slit -of a mouth widened and her eyes brightened on -us under the glorious kerchief she wore about her head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How do," said my companion, and she nodded to -us, passed on, and the babe slung on her back stared -at us with wide eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For an hour after that they came in twos and -threes, men and women, the young folk laughing and -chatting among themselves, giving the lie again to all -tales of an Indian never smiling. It was a great sight -to me and I can never forget that islet in the Kettle -River. Not one of the people stopped to talk. The -men and the old women gave us "How do" and drew -themselves up erect in their saddles. The younger -women smiled, showing white teeth to us in a quick -flash and then looking away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Apache Kid was radiant. "They're a fine people, -these," said he.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said Donoghue, "when you 've got a gun -and keep them at a distance."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nonsense," cried Apache Kid. "I 've lived among -them and I know."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, lived among 'em to buy 'em whisky, I guess, -so as they could get round about the law."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," said Apache Kid, "never bought them a -single bottle all the time I was with them."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I could see that Donoghue believed his partner, but -I could see too that he could not comprehend this -story of living with the Indians for no obvious reason. -He looked at Apache Kid as men look on one -they cannot understand, but spoke no further word.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After we left that camp, as we struck away across -the valley toward the far-off range, we saw these folk -still on the other mountainside and caught the -occasional flash of the sunlight on a disk, maybe, or on a -mirror, or the polished heel of a rifle swinging by the -saddle; and then we lost sight of them among the -farther woods.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That picturesque sight did a deal to lighten my -heart. Apache Kid, too, was mightily refreshed the -rest of the afternoon, and spun many an Indian yarn -which Donoghue heard without any suggestion of -disbelief. But it was no picnic excursion we were -out upon. We had come into the hollow of the hills. -We were indeed at the end of the foothills, and across -the valley before us the mountains rose sheer, as -though shutting us into this vale. To right, the -east, was a wooded hill, parallel with which we now -rode; and to left cliffs climbed upwards with shelving -places here and there on their front, very rugged and -savage.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Donoghue nodded in the direction of a knoll ahead -of us, and said: "Shall we camp at the old spot? -It's gettin' nigh sundown; anyway, I guess we've -done our forty to fifty mile already."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said Apache Kid. "It's a good spot."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You've been here before?" I inquired.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>My two companions looked in each other's eyes -with a meaning glance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, we 've been here before," said Donoghue, -and I had the idea that there was something behind -this. So there was; but I was not to hear it—then.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Suddenly we all three turned about at the one -instant for a far-off "Yah-ah-ah-ah!" came to us.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There, behind us, we saw two riders, and they -were posting along in our track at great speed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We reined up and watched them, Apache Kid -drawing his Winchester across his saddle pommel, -and Donoghue following suit, I, for my part, -slackening my revolver in the holster.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nearer they came, bending forward their heads to -the wind of their passage and the dust drifting behind -them in two spiral clouds. Then I saw that one was -a white man with a great, fluttering beard; the other -an Indian, or half-breed. And just at the moment -that I recognised the bearded man Apache Kid cried -out: "Why! It's the proprietor of the -Half-Way-to-Kettle House."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What in hell do he want up here?" said -Donoghue. "Lead?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They came down on us in the approved western -fashion, with a swirl and a rush, stopping short with -a jerk and the horses' sides going like bellows.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good day, gentlemen," said the man of the beard. -"Are you gentlemen aware that there's no less than -seven gentlemen followin' you up, thirstin' for your -money or your life-blood or something?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, sir," said Apache Kid, "it does not surprise -me to hear of it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So," said the shaggy-bearded, whose name, by -the way, was J. D. Pinkerton, for all who passed by -to read above his hostel—"Half-Way-Rest Hotel—Prop.: -J. D. Pinkerton," so ran the legend there.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So," he repeated again, and again and took the -tangle from his beard. "Well, I reckon from what I -saw of two of you gentlemen already that you don't -jest need to be spoon-fed and put in your little cot at -by-by time, but—well, you see my daughter—she -has a way o' scarin' me when she puts it on. And -she says: 'Dad,' she says, 'if you don't go and warn -them, their blood will be on your head should -anything happen to them.' Now, I don't want no blood -on my head, gentlemen. And then she says: 'Well, -if you don't go, I 'll jest have to go myself with -Charlie—this is Charlie—Charlie, gentlemen—a smart boy, -a good boy, great hand at tracking stolen stock and -the like employ. An old prospector had seen you, -and by good luck he stopped us, and by better luck -I was polite for once and listened to his chin-chin, -and so we heard where you had got off the waggon -road. After that it was all child's play to Charlie -here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We owe you our thanks, sir," said Apache, and -then the moodiness went from his face, and he said in -a cheerful tone: "But they may never find out what -way we 've gone. You see it was a mere chance, -your meeting that prospector and being told of the -point at which we left the road."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's so," said Mr. Pinkerton: "but still there's -chances, you know."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, yes," said Apache Kid, and again: "We owe -you our thanks," said he.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not you, not you!" said Mr. Pinkerton.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But what sort of outfit is this that you have come -to post us up about?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, just as dirty a set of greazers as ever stole -stock, and they must sit there talkin' away about you -in the dining-room after they had told my daughter -they was through with their dinner; and my cook -heard 'em from his pantry—told my lass—she told -me—I'm tellin' you—there you have the whole -thing,—how they 're to dog you up and wait till you -get to your Lost Cabin. And now we 're here. But -I want to let you know—for I 'm a proud man and -would n't like any suspicions, though they might be -nat'ral enough for you to harbour—want just to let -you know that as for what you 're after—this yere -Lost Cabin,—I don't give that for it," and he snapped -his fingers. "I 've got all a rational man wants. But -we 'll chip in with you, if you think of waiting on a -bit to see if you 're followed."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sir," said Apache Kid, "I have to thank you -again. I have to thank you, and your daughter -through you, and your cook; but I must beg of you -to get back."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pshaw!" cried Pinkerton. "What's that for?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well—this may be a bloody business, sir, if we -are followed, and it would be the saddest thing -imaginable——" he broke off and asked abruptly:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pardon the question, sir, but is Mrs. Pinkerton alive?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My good wife is in her resting grave in Old -Kentucky," said Pinkerton in a new voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That settles it, sir," said Apache Kid. "It would -be a sad thing to think of that fine girl down at the -Half-Way House as an orphan."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Pinkerton frowned.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"When you put it that way," said he, "you take -all the fight out of J.D."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then I must even beg you to be gone, sir, before -there is any chance of pursuit by these men," said -Apache Kid. "If we come back alive, we may all -call and thank you again, and Miss Pinkerton too. I -beg of you to go and take care of meeting them on -the way."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, boys, luck to you all, then," and round he -wheeled and away with a swirl of leather while the -half-breed laid the quirt, that swung at his wrist, to -his lean pony's flanks and, with a nod to us, shot after -Mr. Pinkerton.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We watched them till they had almost crested the -rise and there suddenly they stopped, wheeled, and -next moment had dismounted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What's wrong?" said Donoghue. "Something wrong there."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It looks as if the chance Pinkerton spoke of was -against us after all," said Apache Kid, quietly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We were not left long in doubt, for a puff of -smoke rose near the backbone of the rise and a flash -of a rifle and then seven mounted men swept down -on these two.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We saw the half-breed tug at his horse's head; saw -the brute sink down to its knees, saw the half-breed -fling himself on his belly behind it, and then his rifle -flashed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The seven riders spread out as they charged down -on the two and at the flash of the rifle we saw one of -them fall from the saddle and his horse rear and -wheel, then spin round and dash madly across the -valley, dragging the fallen rider by a stirrup for quite -a way, with a hideous bumping and rebounding.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But it was on the two dismounted men on the -hill-front that my attention was concentrated, and round -them the remaining six of their assailants were now -circling.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come on!" cried Apache Kid.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He dropped the reins of our pack-horse to the -ground and remarked: "She 'll not go far with the -rein like that and the pack on her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Next moment we three were tituping along the -valley in the direction of the two held-up men.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Apache Kid was a little ahead of me, Donoghue a -length behind, but Donoghue's mount would not -suffer us to go in that order long. With a snort it -bore Donoghue abreast of me and I clapped my -heels to the flanks of my beast. Next moment we -were all in line, with the wind whistling in our ears. -The six men who seemed to be parleying with -Pinkerton and the half-breed, suddenly catching -sight of us in our charge, I suppose, wheeled about -and went at a wild gallop, with dirt flying from their -horses' hoofs, slanting across the hill.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And then I had an exhibition of Donoghue's madness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He cried out an oath, the most terrible I ever -heard, and, "Come on, boys," he shouted to us.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, let's settle it to-day," came Apache's voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Right now!" cried Donoghue, and away we -went after the fugitives.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I saw the reason for this action at once; for to put -an end to these men now would be the only sure way -to make certain of an undisputed tenancy of the Lost -Cabin. Indeed, their very flight in itself was enough -to suggest not so much that they were afraid of us -(for Pinkerton had given them the name of fearless -scoundrels) as that they did not want an encounter -yet—that their time had not yet come. But for -Pinkerton, they might have followed up quietly the -whole way to our goal. Thanks to him, we knew of -them following. This, though not their time to fight, -was our time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Suddenly I saw Donoghue, who was ahead, rear -his horse clean back on to its haunches and next -moment he was down on a knee beside it, and, just as -I came level with him, his rifle spoke and in a voice -scarcely human he cried, "Got 'im! Got 'im! The -son of a dog!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And sure enough, there was a riderless horse -among the six and a man all asprawl in the sunshine -before us.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But at that the flying men wheeled together and -all five of them were on their feet before Apache -Kid and I could draw rein. I heard a rifle snap -again behind me, whether Apache Kid's or -Donoghue's I did not know, and then, thought I, "If I -stop here, I 'm done for; I 've got to keep going."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The same thought must have been in Apache Kid's -mind for I heard the quick patter of his pony as it -came level with me. He passed me and he and I—I -now a length behind him—came level with the -five men clustered there behind their horses and the -horse of the fallen man, Apache crying to me:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Try a flying shot at them."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He fired at that, and a yell rose in the group and -I saw one man fall and then I up with my revolver -and let fly at one of the fellows who was looking at -me along his gun-barrel.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And just at that moment it struck me, in the midst -of all the fluttering excitement, that they let Apache -Kid go by without a shot. But right on my shot my -horse went down—his foot in a badger hole—and -though afterwards I found that I had slain the horse -that the fellow who was aiming at me was using as a -bastion, I knew nothing of that then—for I smashed -forward on my head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The last thing I heard was the snort of pain that -my horse gave, and the first thing, when I awakened, -that I was aware of was that I was lying on my back -looking up at the glaring sky, a great throbbing -going on in my head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>My hands were tied together behind my back and -my ankles also trussed up in a similar manner.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I was in the wrong camp. I had fallen somehow -into the hands of our enemies.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="how-it-was-dark-in-the-sunlight"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XI</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><em class="bold italics medium">How It Was Dark in the Sunlight</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><img class="dropcap inline" style="height: 6.00em" alt="Y" src="images/img-cap-11.jpg" /><span class="dropspan"></span><span>ou will hear persons speak of one -who has been in a trance or swoon as -"returning to consciousness." I -remember once of hearing someone -objecting to the phrase, saying that -a person was either conscious or unconscious, and to -speak of one returning to consciousness as though -there was a middle state, he argued, was erroneous; -but I discovered for myself, that day, the full -meaning of the phrase; for first it was a sound that I -heard, a sound as of rustling wings, and this presently -changed and became the sound of whispering as of -a whole chamber full of furtive, stealthy persons -talking under the breath. Then I was aware of the -sunlight in my face and at the same moment the number -of voices dwindled and the power of them increased. -I opened my eyes and found myself lying in a mighty -uncomfortable and strained position upon a slab of -rock, so hot with the sun that my hands, which were -behind my back and under me as I lay, were -absolutely scorched. I made to withdraw them and then -found they were fast tied together.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As for the voices I heard, they were only two in -number, I think.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He's all right; I see his eyes flickerin'," said one, -and there, bending over me, was a face as full of evil -as ever I desired to see.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I have seen a cast of an eye that almost seemed to -give a certain quaint charm to a face; but the cast -in these eyes that scrutinised me now was of the -most diabolic.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>My head was beating and thumping like a shipyard -with all its riveters, and the pain between my -eyes was well-nigh unbearable.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With puckering eyebrows I scrutinised my captor, -and as I did so he cried out: "Here you are now, -Farrell."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Right!" came a voice from behind, and the man -called Farrell shuffled down on us, a big-boned, -heavy-browed man with a three days' stubble on his face -which was of a blue colour around the upper lip and -on the jaws—and over his right cheek-bone there -was an ugly scar of a dirty white showing there -amidst the sun-tan.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I thought at first it was a whip he carried in his -hand, but suddenly what I took for the thong of the -whip wriggled as of its own accord, and addressing -himself to it, he said: "None o' your wrigglin', -Mr. Rattler, or I 'll give you one flick that 'll crack your -backbone."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then I saw that what he carried was a stick, with -a short string at the end of it and in the end of that -string was a noose, taut around a rattlesnake's tail, -just above the knob of the rattle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"See what I've bin fishin' for you?" he said, and -laughed in an ugly way.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He of the terrible eyes caught me roughly by the -shoulders and drew me to a sitting posture, so that -I saw where we were—on a rock-strewn ledge of -some cliffs, which I supposed to be those we had -seen on our left from the valley. But owing to the -rise of the ledge toward the front I could not see -the lower land, only the far, opposing cliffs, blue and -white and yellow, with the fringe of trees a-top. And -lying on their bellies at the verge of the shelf on -which we were, I then saw two other men, with their -rifles beside them, lying like scouts, gazing down -intently on the valley.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I had no thought then as to how we came there, -where my friends were, nor for any other matter save -my own present peril. For before I was well aware, -and while yet too feeble to offer any resistance, too -dazed to make any protest, I was flung down upon -my face in the sand, and then, "Give me a hand here, -you two," said Farrell, and the scouts turned and rose, -and, one of them clutching me by the back of the -neck and thrusting my face down into the sand, I felt -a weight gradually crushing upon my back and legs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's him!" said one, and then my neck was freed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The weight upon my buttocks and legs was nothing -else than a great, flat slab of rock. I thought, though -it had been lowered gently enough on me, that the -heaviness of it would alone be sufficient to crush my -bones. Certainly to move below the waist was quite -out of the question.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>All this I suffered in a dumb, half-here, half-away -fashion, my head hammering and my tongue parched -in my mouth like a piece of dry wood. But when these -four laughed brutally among themselves and began a -series of remarks such as: "See and don't give it an -inch too short," or, "See that the string's taut or we 'll -not get what we want," I came more to my senses and -wondered what was to befall me. Then, for the first -time, I was addressed directly by Farrell.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, kid," he said, "you 're in a tight corner—you -hear me?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I hear you," said I, speaking with difficulty, so -dry was my throat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," said he, "you can get out of this fix right -off by telling us where the Lost Cabin Mine lies. And -that's business right off, with no delay."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can never do that," said I, "for I don't know -myself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a chorus of unbelieving grunts and -then: "All right," snapped the voice. "Fact is, we -have n't much inclination to loiter here. You 've -taken a mighty while to come round, too, as it -is—shove it in," he broke off.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the last words were not for me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One of the others stepped before me, his foot -grazing my head, and I heard him say, "There?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," said another. "That's over close—yes, -there. That's the spot."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And then they all stepped back from me, and I, -lying with my chin in the dust, saw what the man -had been about; for directly before me was the point -of the stick, thrust into the ground, with the snake -noosed by the tail to it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>No sooner had the man who fixed it in leaped back -(and he did so very smartly, while the others laughed -at him and caused him to rip out a hideous oath) -than the reptile coiled fiercely up the stick; but the -hand was gone from the end of it, and down it -slithered again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then it saw me with its beady eyes, rattled fiercely, -again coiled, and—I closed my eyes and drew in my -head to the shoulders and wriggled as far to the side -as I could.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But something smote me on the chin. I felt my -heart in my throat, and thought I to myself, "I am a -dead man now"; but before I opened my eyes again -I heard another rattle, opened my eyes in quick -horror, saw the second leap of the snake toward me, -and shrivelled backward again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Close shave!" cried one of my tormentors; but -this time, after the tap on my chin I felt something -moist trickle down upon the point of it, and I -thought me that I was close enough to get the poison -that it spat, but not close enough to allow of its fangs -reaching me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But if this stuff should reach my eye it might be -fatal," thought I, heedless now of headache or -weariness, or anything but the terrible present. My mouth, -too, I kept tight closed, as you may guess.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Will you tell us now, kid?" cried Farrell. "Will -you spit it out now?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thought I to myself: "I must die now for certain. -I trust that even if I knew, I would not reveal this -that they ask. But assuredly, to reveal it or to -keep it secret is not mine to choose. I must even die."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It came into my head that soon the thin string -would, at one of these leaps, cut clean through the -snake's tail, and then— Then it leapt again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I do not know!" cried I. "I cannot tell you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then you can just lie there!" snapped one of -the four, and went back to his place of outlook on the -ledge. And the other, who had been watching the -valley, came and stood by my shoulder, irritating -the snake, by his presence, to fresh efforts.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You 're a fool," he said. "Your partners have -deserted you. They 're off. There ain't hide nor hair -to be seen of them. If they 'd leave you in a lurch -like this, you 're a fool not to let us know the location. -We 'll follow 'em up again and take vengeance on 'em -for you—see?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And just then, as though to refute his remarks as -to the heedlessness of my partners, I heard a faint -snap of a rifle, and the man with the squint, who -had taken his turn on guard at the place this fellow -had vacated, turned round and said he: "Boys, O -boys, I 'm hit!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Something in the tone of his voice made me -glance at him sharply, but with half an eye for the -snake, as you may be sure, and my ears alert for -its warning rattle. I was never more alert in my -life than then, and, strange though it may seem, -the predominating thought in my mind was, "How -sad, how very sad to leave this world, never to see -the rich, rich blue of that sky again!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But, as I say, the tone of the man's voice -breaking in on my thoughts and terrors was peculiar, -and, with my head still as low in my shoulders as -I could manage to hold it, I laid my cheek to the -hot sand and looked at him. He had turned to the -man who had been standing by me, but at sound -of the shot had dropped to his knees.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Does it look bad?" said he, drawing his finger -across his forehead, where was a tiny mark, and -then holding out his hand and looking on it for -traces of blood, raising up his face for inspection -by the man beside me at the same time, and a -question in his eyes, very much as you have seen -a child, "Is my face clean, mother?" Yes, and -with a very childish voice, too.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It don't look bad," was the reply—and neither -it did.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But when he turned away again to the other -sentry who lay further off, repeating his question -to him in that simple voice, I saw the back of his -head. And his brains were dribbling out behind -upon his neck. A terrible weakness filled my heart. -I heard him say, with no oath, as one might have -expected, but in a soft voice: "Dear me!" and -again, "Dear me! How very dark it is getting!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Which was an awful word to hear with the sun -blazing right in his eyes out of the burnished, -palpitating sky. And then he put it as a question -and still with the note of astonishment: "Dear me, -isn't that strange? Is n't it getting very——" and -he sank forward on his face; but what followed I -do not know. In the terror of my own position -I kept all my faculties alert; but at the sight of -that man's back and the bloody wound, and at the -childish voice of him, the world seemed to wheel. -A sickness came on me and I fainted away.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="i-am-held-as-a-hostage"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><em class="bold italics medium">I Am Held as a Hostage</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><img class="dropcap inline" style="height: 6.00em" alt="I" src="images/img-cap-12.jpg" /><span class="dropspan"></span><span>t must have been more of a -momentary squeamishness, that, rather than -a fainting fit, I think; for I heard -myself moan twice, was conscious of -the moaning. There seemed something -pressing on my heart and forcing me to gasp -for breath and relieve the tension on it. A sweat -broke on me then, and after that I felt myself, as it -were, swinging through space, and with another gasp -and a great gulp of air the world spun back again -and there I lay, the cold sweat standing on my brow, -and the rattlesnake coiling afresh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why! What's this move now?" I heard one -of my captors cry. "What's he doin' with his rifle -carried and waggling his hand in the air that ways?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't you know what that is? That's the peace -sign—flat of the hand held up, palm open and -pushed forward wi' that there kind o' to-and-fro -movement."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Peace sign be durned! If I was sure we could -get the information out of this here kid laying -behind us, I'd put a bullet through his skull and let -out his brains—front of his face or back of his -neck like Cockeye there—all the same to me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Reckon you 'd be safer not to do that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Think the kid here won't speak, then?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No; I don't think he'll speak. I've just been -figurin' that neither Apache Kid nor Larry might -tell him. He's liable to be givin' you straight -goods and no lie when he says he don't know the -location."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pity we did n't drop Apache Kid's hoss that -time they charged down. We could ha' got him, -instead, that way. Reckon we need n't have been -so scared o' killin' Apache Kid himself without -gettin' the news. But say! This won't do. I don't -like the looks of this thing. They all are getting -a move on 'em and edgin' up this way, the whole -three of 'em."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Three of them," thought I, with my eye on the -rattler. "That's one short. I wonder who has been -killed or disabled."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Say! Shout to him to stop. Tell him if he -wants to pow-wow with us to come up alone."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, and leave his rifle down. You do the talkin' -now, Farrell."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Right," said Farrell, and then he shouted, "Well, -what do you want?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I want to come up and talk this out with you," -hailed a voice that I recognised for Apache Kid's.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He can't come up here," said Farrell. "We -don't want 'em to know that we 're only a threesome -now, same as 'em."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I 'll tell you what to do," said one of them, with -the voice of a man who has been visited by a sudden -inspiration.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Stop there a minute!" cried Farrell, and then -turning to the speaker he said sharply: "Spit it out -then, Pete; what's your notion?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Loosen the kid there," said Pete, "and set him -on the front here and hold your gat to his head while -we hear what they 've got to palaver."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hum!" mused Farrell. "Kind o' hostage notion? -Heh? Well, there's something in that," and he stood -upright fearlessly and held his hand aloft, the palm -facing away to those in the valley.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You can come up the length o' that there white -rock," he cried, and then to his companions: "See! -Lend a hand here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The snake had coiled again. I cannot guess how -often it had sprung at me; I do not know. All that -I know is that at every fresh rattle I crouched my -head into my shoulders and gasped to myself the one -word "God"; for we all, I believe, no matter what -manner of lives we have led, at the last moment -give a cry to the Unknown, in our hearts, if not with -our lips. And every leap of the snake I was -prepared to find the one that was to make an end of my -acquaintance with the sunlight and with the sweet -airs that blow about the world.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But that torment was over now, for with one swift -drop of his rifle-butt Farrell cut the head clean from -the hideous long body, and then lent the other two -men a hand to roll the great stone from off my -aching limbs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Stand up, you son of a whelp," he said, and -spurned me with his boot.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After the terror of the snake there seemed little -now that I need heed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's easier said than done!" I cried, angry at his -words. "I 'm like a block of stone from my waist -down."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I guess that's right. He must be feeling that -way," said one of the others, with a touch of -commiseration in his voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That was the first sign of any heart that I had -discovered in the ruffians.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, you guess it's right, do you, Dan?" sneered -Farrell. "Well, lend a hand and haul him here to -the front of this ledge."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Next moment it was as if a thousand red-hot -needles were being run into my stiff, trailing legs, for -they caught me up by my arms and drew me like a -sack to the front of the cliff.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And then I saw the whole plateau below us. -Apache Kid was half-way up the rise, among the -long wire-grass at the verge of the cliffs; further -down, leaning upon a rock, his shoulders and head -visible, was Larry Donoghue. The third man that -had been spoken of I could not see and searched the -hillside in vain for; but when Farrell stood upright -beside me and waved his hand I saw the half-breed, -Charlie, who had come after us with Mr. Pinkerton, -rise behind a flat rock and lounge across it, looking -up on us with his broad sombrero pushed back on -his head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Pinkerton, I supposed, had been prevailed -upon to return out of our dispute, lest his life might -be the forfeit for his interest in our behalf. But just -as that explanation for his non-appearance had -satisfied me I saw, half across the plain, something -moving slowly—a pack of horses it seemed, and so clear -was the air of that late afternoon that I recognised -the form of the mounted man who guarded them, -could almost, with a lengthy and concentrated -survey, descry his great beard like a bib upon his -breast.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," said Farrell, "what do you want to pow-wow -about? You see who we got here?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I see," said Apache Kid, putting a foot upon the -white stone. "How are you, Francis?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He 's all right," said Farrell. "But he 's a kind -o' prisoner o' war just now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh!" said Apache Kid. "Well, I suppose if -we want to get him back we 'll have to buy him back?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's what!" said Farrell, emphatically.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," said Apache Kid, "we are going -on,—my friends and I,—and, as we have your horses now -as well as our own, we thought we might perhaps be -able to trade you them back for the lad."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And here, as you will be wondering how the horses -had changed hands, I must tell you what I had -afterwards explained to me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It seems that no sooner did I fall from my horse, -at the time it put its foot in the badger hole (Apache -Kid having gone past wildly, bringing down one man -and one horse with his two running shots), than the -four men, seeing my predicament, swung to their -horses' backs, opened out, and two of them passing, -one on either side of me, swung from their saddles -and yanked me up by my arms.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then full tilt they charged down the centre of -the plain, intending evidently to make the rising -knoll, of which I spoke, in the valley's centre. And -with me lying across Farrell's saddle, they doubtless -thought they had the key to the Lost Cabin. But -Apache Kid wheeled his horse below, and Donoghue -mounted again above, and from the hill-crest the -half-breed spurred down, and so these three set after -us, converging on each other as they came.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Farrell's mount was falling behind with the -burden of my extra weight, and they wheeled sharp -to left and put their horses directly to the cliff-front. -These ponies can do marvels in climbing, but they -were over-jaded, having been very hard ridden, and -right on the slope it was evident that not only the -half-breed, but Larry next, and Apache Kid following, -were coming within effect range. It was Farrell -who proposed their move then, considering that with -me in their hands half the battle was won if only they -had something in the way of a fort from which to -stave off attack. So they flung off there, and, letting -their horses go, up they came, dragging me along. -But at the foot of the hill the others stopped, seeing -how they had all the odds against them then and -were so fully exposed. For it had not yet occurred -to them, as indeed was very natural it should not, -that the last thing these men wanted to do was to -fire upon them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The intention of this little company of cut-throats -had been to follow up softly in the rear, as near as -possible without being seen by us, until we came to -our journey's end. What they had planned for us -then it is, perhaps, needless to so much as hint. -Little did they think that between them and us was -Mr. Pinkerton, carrying the news of their possible -pursuit. But when they saw him riding out of that -plain, with the half-breed, the whole reason for his -presence there was guessed by them, especially when -they saw us halted within sight, the whole three of -us turned round as though already watching for their -approach. It was, undoubtedly, this upsetting of their -plans that made them so short-tempered and snappish -with one another.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But by now I think even Farrell was convinced that -I was useless to them in so far as the giving of -information went. And so I was now to be used as a -hostage,—a sort of living breastwork before them,—as -though they were to say: "See! if you fire, you -kill your partner!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Farrell laughed loud at Apache Kid's suggestion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why," said he, "you talk as if you held the -trumps; but you don't. And for why? Why, -because we do." And he spat in the sand and put a -hand on either hip. "We don't need our horses, -my mates and me. We ain't in any hurry, and can -set here as long as you like,—aye, or go away when -we like, for that matter. What we want is that Lost -Cabin Mine, and if you don't tell us where it is, -why, then we'll let the wind out of your partner here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And where do we come in?" yelled Donoghue, -rearing up beside his bush.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh!" said Farrell, insolently, "are you talking, -too? Well, you don't come in at all. There you -are! That's something for you to consider!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Donoghue broke out in a roar of laughter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh," he said, "the lad is nothing to us. You can -do what you like with him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Apache Kid turned upon him with a glance as of -astonishment, and then again to Farrell he said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I 'll give you the offer we came up with, and you -and your two mates can consider it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Three mates, you mean," snapped Farrell.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Na! Na!" cried Donoghue. "When I look -along a rifle I never err."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, it was you did it?" cried Farrell. "Well, -what's your offer?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This is our offer," said Apache Kid. "You can -come along with us. We are three, and so are you, -and we can split the Lost Cabin between us."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Farrell turned to his two companions and looked a -question at them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I guess you 'd better take that," said the man -Dan, "for I reckon even if we did suggest killing -this kid, it would n't bring the facts out of 'em."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And anyhow," said the other, him they called -Pete, speaking low, but yet I caught the drift of his -words, "we can easy enough fix them all when we -get there."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come on!" said Apache Kid. "How does our -offer strike you? Are you aware that every hour we -delay there may be others getting closer to the Lost -Cabin Mine?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Take the offer, man. Take the offer," said Pete -and Dan.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All right," cried Farrell. "But mind, we're -bad men, and this will have to be run on the square."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Donoghue laughed, and for a moment, as I looked -at him, I saw an evil glitter in his eye. "Oh, yes!" -he ejaculated, "we 're all bad men here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>My three captors made no delay; but as for their -fallen friend, they paid no heed to him. Only Farrell -took the cartridges from his belt and ran his hands -through the pockets, which contained a knife, a -specimen of ore, two five-dollar bills, and a -fifty-cent piece.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For my part, I had the utmost difficulty in getting -to my legs, and still more in descending the face of -the precipice. I noticed, too, that Farrell kept -close by my side, as though he thought still that -it was as well to have me between Apache Kid -and himself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Just as we came down the rise, there was -Mr. Pinkerton leading the horses along toward us.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Say!" cried Farrell. "What about him?" And -he pointed to Pinkerton.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"O!" said Apache Kid. "He wants nothing to -do with this expedition whatever."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then suddenly Farrell's face lighted with a new -thought. "And he goes down to the camps and -blabs the whole thing, eh?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I believe he won't say a word about it,—neither -he nor the half-breed here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Farrell seemed scarcely convinced, and we went -down in silence a little way. Then suddenly he -said: "I think you 've got some game on. Say! do -you swear you are on the square with us?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Apache Kid frowned on him and, "I give you my -word of honour," said he; and so we came ploughing -through the loose soil and sand into the sun-dried -grass, and thence on to the level below, where -Mr. Pinkerton, now aided by his half-breed follower who -had gone on down-hill and mounted his horse, was -bunching the horses together. And over all was the -sky with the daylight fading in it.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="in-which-apache-kid-behaves-in-his-wonted-way"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XIII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><em class="bold italics medium">In Which Apache Kid Behaves in His Wonted Way</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><img class="dropcap inline" style="height: 6.00em" alt="W" src="images/img-cap-13.jpg" /><span class="dropspan"></span><span>hat with the pains upon my -forehead, caused by the blow I had come -by when my unfortunate horse put -his foot in that unchancy burrow and -sent me flying; what with that pain -and the ache of my legs, and something else that was -not a pain, but worse than a pain, I had scarcely the -heart, I fear, to give Mr. Pinkerton as kindly a smile -of welcome as he had in store for me on seeing me -again alive.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That other thing I speak of as worse than a pain -was a horrible nervousness with which my hour of -torture with the snake had endowed me. Yes, it can -only have lasted about an hour, I think, that hideous -experience, though then it seemed an eternity. But -so had it affected me that when we gathered together -on the plateau I paid little heed to the council of my -companions,—had lost interest in their affairs. -Instead, I kept jerking my head into my shoulders, and -caught myself even gasping suddenly and dodging a -snake that leaped at me in the air,—a snake that, -even as I sought to evade, I knew was not there at -all,—a mere creature of my harassed and frayed -nerves. Mere fancy I knew it to be, but still I -must needs dodge it and blurt out a gasp of terror -again and again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was while I was still busied on this absurd -performance,—still standing in the talking group and -heedless of the talking,—that I saw Apache Kid -knitting his brows at me, and supposed it was in -contempt; and that caused me to pull myself -together and square myself, as a soldier may do under -the eye of an officer. When I did so, I remember -that I seemed to go to the other extreme; in my -attempt to master this nervousness, I caught myself -grinning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was then that Mr. Pinkerton, who was holding -back a little way, looking on, but not party to our -doings, remarked to me, as he caught my eye again:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I took a long shot at that horse of yours, sir, and -put it out of its agony when it got its leg broke; but -things have been levelling up since then, and I think -men and horses are just on a par again—one horse, -one man."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I laughed hilariously at this saying, as though it -were something hugely amusing. But between you -and me, I do not think that Mr. Pinkerton spoke it -from his own kind heart but spoke thus more as -some sensitive men wear a cloak of pride or shyness -or a false bombast to protect them from other men -less finely tuned. It was, I believe, only to show -a hard front before these new partners of ours, as -villainous a trio as you ever clapped eyes on, that -he spoke in this light way of the doings of death; -because at my laugh I saw him frown as though he -regretted that I could enjoy his bitter jest so fully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In a dazed way I saw the party mounting; but so -great difficulty had I in gaining the saddle of a -horse—whose horse I do not know; I think it was the -mount of the man called Cockeye—that Donoghue -came to my side and held the stirrup and gave me -a "leg up" and, "Are you scared, or what?" he said -in my ear, low and angry and with something of -contempt. "You 've made a hash of to-day for us as it -is, with goin' and gettin' that accident. Are you -scared o' them fellers?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Scared!" said I. "Man! I 've been tortured."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Been what?" said he, and he got on to that -vicious mount of his with such a viciousness himself, -in his pull of the rein and lunge of his spurs, that -I saw Mr. Pinkerton give him a look as who should -say: "He's a devil of a man, that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Donoghue crowded his beast to my side and -asked me what I meant by my remark of being -tortured, and I told him the whole matter of it as we -rode across the plateau, all lit now with the thin last -glow of day.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He listened with his head to one side and his loose -jaw tightening and thrusting out.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I take back what I said to you," said he. "I -take it back right now; and as for hindering our -journey—why that could n't be helped. Better that -we met these fellows right here, face to face, instead -of goin' on unknowing and getting shot by 'em round -the fire to-morrow night or plugged through the -windows of the Lost Cabin three nights hence."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This might have given me an idea of how far we -had still to go—or rather should I say, in a country -such as this, of vast distance, of how nigh we already -were to our journey's end, had I been much heeding -that evening.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He held out his hand to me across his saddle (I -was riding on his left), and as we shook hands I saw -the man Pete look at us with a doubtful eye.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And for a surety there was every reason why these -fellows should be suspicious of us and be wary and -watchful of our movements.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That they were three unscrupulous scoundrels—"The -toughest greazers that ever stole stock," as -Mr. Pinkerton had phrased it when speaking of them and -their cronies (using the word "greazer" in its loose, -slang sense, not necessarily implying thereby that -they were actually Mexicans, which is the meaning -of the name)—that they were capable of any -treachery and cruelty themselves, there was no doubt. -And as they were, so they would be very prone to -judge others and were, doubtless, already thinking -to themselves that we three had after all—for the -present at least—the best of the bargain; for had -they set upon us and done away with us, where would -have been their chance of coming to the Lost Cabin? -As far away as ever; the Lost Cabin would still have -been a needle in a haystack.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On the other hand, I guessed them already arguing, -we would be glad and even eager to kill them, -though they desired to keep us alive—for a time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I suppose they took our handshake—Larry's and -mine—for a sign of some understanding between us -and scented in it a treacherous design upon them, -for they kept upon our flanks hereafter, at sight of -which Donoghue laughed his ugly laugh and shook -his horse forward a step, sneering at them over his -shoulder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>O! We were a fine company to go into camp -together, as we did within half an hour, before the -last grasshoppers had ceased their chirring, on the -side of the knoll where was a spring of water, a -little pool overhung by a rock with strange -amphibious insects darting away from its centre to the -sheltering banks as we dipped our cans for water -to make the flapjacks.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To any chance observers, happening into our -camp at twilight, we would have seemed nothing -more dire than a round-up camp of cow-boys, I fancy, -for after the meal, when pipes and cigarettes were lit -and belts let out a hole or two and boots slackened, -there was an air of out-door peace around the fire.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yet I need not tell you that the peace was on the -surface—fanciful, unreal. As for me, the snake was -leaping in my eyes out of the fire, when Apache Kid, -as calm as you please, struck up a song.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Heads jerked up and eyes glanced on him at the -first stave. It seemed as though everything that any -man there could do or say was to be studied for an -underlying and furtive motive.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was "The Spanish Cavalier" he sang, with a -very fine feeling, too, softly and richly. There is a -deal of the sentimentalist about me, and the air, apart -from the words, was ringing in my heart like a regret.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The bright, sunny day," he sang, "it soon fades -away," and after he ceased the plain had fallen silent. -The chirring of insects had gone and left the valley -empty of sound. During all the journey I never -heard so much as the twitter of any bird (except one -of which you shall hear later), so I think that the -gripping silence at the end of day must have been due -only to the stopping of the insect life. By day one -was not aware of any sound; but at the close of day, -when the air chilled, the silence was suddenly manifest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sure enough, the bright, sunny day was fading and -in the silence, when the voice of the singer ceased, I -must needs be away back in the homeland, counting -the hours in my mind, reckoning them up and -judging of what might probably be afoot in the -homeland then—and there is something laughable in the -thought now, but I counted the difference in time the -wrong way about and sat sentimentalising to myself -that my mother perhaps was just gone out to walk in -the Botanic Gardens, and picturing my little sister -prattling by her side with her short white stockings -slipping down on her brown legs, and looking back, -dragging from my mother's hand, to watch the -blue-coated policeman at the corner twirling his whistle -around his finger. Had I not been so wearied and -worn, I would not have made this error in the -reckoning. As likely as not my mother was then waking -out of her first sleep, and thinking, as women do, of -my material and spiritual welfare, all at the one time; -perhaps wondering if my socks were properly darned -and putting up a loving prayer for my welfare.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then the singing ceased, and the cry that I now -knew well, the dusk cry of the coyotes, rose in a -howl, with three or four yelps in the middle of it and -the doleful melancholy baying at the close.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I looked round the group at the fire again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," said Apache Kid, the first to speak, "who's -to night-herd the horses?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The man Dan rose up at that. It was he who -alone of all my tormentors on the cliff had spoken a -word with anything of kindness in it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I 'll take the first guard, if you like," said he.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Farrell looked across at Apache Kid.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"One of your side, then," said he, "can take the -next guard—share and share—time about, I guess; eh?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Apache Kid threw the end of his cigarette into the -fire and, drawing out his pouch, rolled another and -moistened it before he replied.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why do you talk about sides at all?" he asked. -"I thought we were a joint stock company now?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, well," snapped Farrell, "I mean one of you -three—you or one of your partners."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Quite so; I know what you mean. I understand -your meaning perfectly."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a pause and then said he, taking a brand -from the fire and lighting his cigarette, so that I saw -his full, healthy eye shine bright: "If you are going -to talk about sides in this expedition—then so be -it. But I don't think our side, as you call it, will -bother with any night-herding; indeed, I think we -need hardly trouble about saddling up or unpacking -or cooking or anything—if you make it a matter -of sides." And he blew a feather of smoke. "I -think my side will live like gentlemen between now -and the arrival at the Lost Cabin Mine."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Every eye was fixed anxiously on him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You see," he explained, "the fact is, you need us -and we don't need you. It's a case of supply and -demand and—seeing you talk of sides," he said, with -what must have been, to Farrell, an aggravating -insistence, "our side at present is wanted. It's almost a -sort of example of the workings of capital and labour. -No!" he ended, with a satisfied grunt, "I don't think -there's any need for me to tend horses at all, thanks. -I 'm quite comfy by the fire."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a shrewd, calculating look on Farrell's -face as he looked Apache Kid cunningly in the eye a -space. I could wager that he was making himself -certain from this speech that Apache Kid was the -principal in our expedition. I think he really -believed that I could say nothing of the Lost Cabin, -even had I desired to, and from the way he looked -then to Donoghue and looked back again to Apache -Kid it struck me forcibly that he was wondering if it -were possible that Larry Donoghue was not "in the -know" to the full, but merely of the company in a -similar way with myself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then he rolled an eye back again to Apache Kid, -and I remembered the sheriff of Baker City then, for -Farrell's words were the very words I had heard the -sheriff use: "You 're a deep man," he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And I 'm quite comfy, too," broke in Donoghue. -"Thanks," he added. "And as for this young -man beside me, I think he wants a rest to-night. A -man that's had a snake wriggling at his nose for half -of an afternoon is liable to want a little sleep and -forgetting."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Everybody cocked an ear, so to speak, on this -speech; but no one of those who did not understand -asked an explanation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Farrell looked with meaning at Mr. Pinkerton, -who sat out of the affair, but neither he nor the -half-breed spoke a syllable, Pinkerton pulling on his -corn-cob pipe, and the half-breed rubbing the silver -buckle of his belt with the palm of his hand, and -studying the reflection of fire-light in it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no," suddenly remarked Apache Kid, "you -could n't ask Mr. Pinkerton to do that, nor Charlie -either. We can't be so inhospitable as to ask our -guests of this evening to night-tend our horses."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What the hell are you getting on about?" said -Farrell, and then, as though thinking better, and -considering that a milder tone was more fitting, he said: -"I never asked them to."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no; you did not ask them to," said Apache, -in a mock-conciliatory tone, and then, with a smile on -his lips, he said gently: "But you were thinking -that, and I—know—every—thought—that passes -through your mind, Mr. Farrell."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>You should have seen the man Pete at these -soft-spoken words.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I must give you an idea of what this fellow looked -like. To begin with, I think I may safely say he -looked like a villain, but more of the wolf order of -the villain than the panther; he had what you would -call an ignorant face,—a heavy brow, high -cheek-bones, very glassy and constantly wandering eyes, -far too many teeth for his mouth, and they very large -and animal like. And if ever I saw superstitious fear -on a man's face, it was on the face of that cut-throat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He looked at Apache Kid, who sat with his hat -tilted back and his open, cheery, and devil-may-care -face radiant to the leaping firelight,—looked at him -so that the firelight made on his face shadows, -instead of lighting it; for he held his chin low and the -mouth open. His hat was off and only his forehead -was lit up. The rest was what I say—loose shadows. -Then he looked at Farrell, as though to see if Farrell -were not at all fearful, and, "Say!" he said, "I 'll take -'herd' to-night."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Farrell turned on him with a leer and laughed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I guess you 'd better go first then," said he, -"before midnight comes, and let Dan go second, after a -three hours' tend. You 're the sort of man that is all -very good robbing a train, but when you get in -among the mountains with the boodle you get scared. -And what for? For nothing! That's the worst of -you Cat'licks."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So Farrell pronounced the word, and the man flung -up his head at that with an angry and defiant air, so -that one only saw there the bravo now, and not the -ignorant and superstitious savage. He was on the -point of speech, but Apache Kid said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sir, sir! it is very rude, to say the least of it, to -malign any gentleman's religion. I presume from -your remark that you are of the Protestant -persuasion, but my own personal opinion is that you are -both equally certain of winning into hell. If our -Roman Catholic friend is kind enough to offer to -relieve us of the monotony of night-herding duty, we -can only thank him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So Pete rose and tightened his belt, and went his -ways; and that in no less than time, for the horses -were already restive, as though the loneliness of the -place had taken possession of them. Of all beasts I -know, I think horses the most influenced by their -environment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, if this don't beat cock-fightin'!" I heard -Mr. Pinkerton's voice behind me, where he lay now, -leaning on an elbow; and then he said a word or two -to the half-breed, who rose and departed out of the -circle of the fire-shine.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In a little space he returned, leading his own mount -and Pinkerton's by the lariats which were around -their necks, and as he made fast these lariats to a -stone Farrell looked at Mr. Pinkerton across the -glow, and asked him, suspicious as ever, "What's -that for?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh! Just so as not to be indebted to you," -replied Pinkerton, and coming closer to the fire he rolled -his one grey blanket round him and, knocking out -the ashes of his pipe, lay down to rest, the half-breed -following suit. But after they had lain down, and when -I, a little later, at a word from Donoghue, suggesting I -should "turn in," unpacked my blankets, which I had -found among the pile of our mixed belongings, I saw -the half-breed's eyes still open and with no sign of -sleep in them. "So," said I to myself, "Pinkerton -and the half-breed, I expect, have arranged to share -watch and watch, without having the appearance of -doing so."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And indeed one could scarcely wonder at any -such protective arrangement in such a camp as this. -Donoghue and Apache Kid, indeed, were the only two -there who could close their eyes in sleep that night -with anything like a reasonable belief that the chances -of their awakening to life again were greater than -their chances of never breathing again the -sage-scented air of morning.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="apache-kid-prophesies"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XIV</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><em class="bold italics medium">Apache Kid Prophesies</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><img class="dropcap inline" style="height: 6.00em" alt="Y" src="images/img-cap-14.jpg" /><span class="dropspan"></span><span>ou may wonder how it was possible for -me to lie down, to roll myself round -in my blankets, to fall asleep in such -a camp, in such company as that. I, -indeed, wondered at myself as I did so, -wondered how I came by the heedlessness, for I -cannot call it courage, that allowed me to compose myself -to slumber. Anything might have happened in the -dark hours, murder and sudden death; but I was -excessively fatigued; my body ached; my nerves too -were unstrung by the torture of the cliff. Sleep I -must and sleep I did, on the instant that I stretched -myself and laid down my head. Perhaps the sigh -with which I dismissed from my mind the anxieties -that might have kept me wakeful was more of a -prayer than a sigh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Across the fire of smaller branches that had cooked -our supper, in the preparing of which each took part, -a great log was laid, so that no replenishing would be -necessary.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was the sound of Donoghue's voice that woke me -to blue night, starshine, and the red glow of the log. -His position was unaltered. I could have believed -that he had not moved a muscle since my lying down, -and the stars told me I had slept some time. He -reclined with his legs crossed, his feet stretched to the -glow, his hands in his coat pockets, and his unloosened -blanket-roll serving for a cushion to the small of his -back.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There ain't no call for me to turn in," he was -saying. "I don't have to turn in to please you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I snuggled the blankets under my chin and looked -to see who he was addressing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>All the others of the company were lying down, but -it was evidently Farrell who had made the prior -remark, for he now worried with his shoulders in his -blankets to cast them from him, and rising on an -elbow, said: "O, no! You don't have to. But it -looks to me mighty like as if you was scared of -us—that you don't lay down and sleep. We 're square -enough with you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Donoghue looked at him in that insolent fashion -of opening the eyes wide, and then almost shutting -them, and sneered:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, well, what are you always opening your -eyes up a little ways and peepin' at one for? One -would think you was scared o' me; and that feller -there, that Dan, or what you call him, he keeps -waking up and giving a squint around, too. You 're -square with us? We 're square with you, ain't we?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Farrell flung the blankets back from him and cried -out: "Do you know what I'm goin' to tell you? -I would n't trust you, not an inch. I got my gun -here ready, if you try any nonsense."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The gleam of an unholy satisfaction was on Donoghue's -face then, and he cried out: "Well, sir, if I find -a man trust me, I 'm square with him; but if he don't -trust me, I don't play fair with him. That's right, I -guess, ain't it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This, to my mind, was a very faulty morality, but it -seemed not so to Farrell.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," he agreed. "I reckon that's generally -understood," and then he showed quite a turn for -argument on his own plane of thought.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But you don't trust me, neither," said he, "and if -I was payin' you back the way you talk about, I 'd up -and plug you through the head."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Argument was not in Donoghue's line but he cried out:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And where would I be while you were tryin' it on?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Farrell did not answer, and in the pause Donoghue -did indeed continue the argument, unwittingly, to its -logical conclusion:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no, my boy," he said, "you would n't plug -me here. You would n't plug me till we got you -what you wanted. O! I know your kind well. You -thought you held the trumps when you corralled the -lad there," and he jerked his head in my direction, -"But you did n't."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It seems to me like as we did," said Farrell, with -a vindictive leer, "else why are we here now?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Here now?" snapped Donoghue. "Why, you're -here because my partner is so durned soft, times. -He would n't—go—on—and leave the lad," he -drawled contemptuously. "What good was the boy -to you, anyhow?" he asked. "Looks as if you knew -you were trying it on with a soft, queer fellow. I 'd -ha' let you eat the boy if you wanted and jest taken -a note o' your ugly blue mug in my mind and said -to myself: 'Larry, my boy, when you see that feller -ag'in after you 've got through with this Lost Cabin -Mine—you shoot him on sight!'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And what if the mug was to follow you up?" -said Farrell.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>All this while there was no movement round the -fire, only that I saw Apache Kid's hand drawing -down the blankets from his face. Pinkerton and the -half-breed were a little beyond Donoghue and lying -somewhat back so that I did not know whether or -not they were awakened by this talk. And just then -Dan sat up suddenly, glared out upon the plain to -the four points of the compass, and screamed out:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The hosses! Where's the hosses?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We were all bolt upright then, like jumping-jacks, -and leaning on our palms and twisting about staring -out strained into the moon-pallid plain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Dan leapt to his feet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The hosses is gone!" he cried, and he rushed -across to the two horses that were tied with the -lariats.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lend me a hoss," he cried. "We must go out -and see where Pete has got to with them horses."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I lend you dis—you sumracadog!" said the -half-breed in his guttural voice and he flung up his -polished revolver in Dan's face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was Apache Kid who restored some semblance -of order to the camp.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All right, Dan," he said. "Don't worry. It's -too late now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We all turned to him in wonder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pete thought it advisable to take the whole bunch -away. He agreed that it was advisable to make -what little capital he could out of his expedition into -this part of the country. On the whole, I think he -was sensible. Yes—sensible is the word," he said, -thoughtfully wagging his head to the fire and then -looking up and beaming on us all.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What you mean?" cried Farrell.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Just what I say," said Apache Kid. "He simply -walked the whole bunch quietly away five minutes -after he bunched them together out there."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You saw him doin' that! You saw his game and -said nothing!" cried Farrell.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Even so!" replied Apache Kid.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Farrell glared before him speechless.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What in creation made him do that?" said Dan, -going back like a man dazed to his former place.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You mean </span><em class="italics">who</em><span> in creation made him do that?" -Apache Kid said lightly: "and I have to -acknowledge that it was I."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You!" thundered Farrell. "I did n't see you -say a word to him. You bought him off some ways, -did you? How did you do it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"O!" said Apache Kid. "I simply gave him a -hint of the terrors in store for him if he remained -here. You heard me; and he was a man who could -understand a hint such as I gave. I took him first, -as being easiest. But I have no doubt that you two -also will think better of your intention and depart—before -it is too late. He went first. You, Mr. Farrell, -I think, will have the honour of going last."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't know what you mean," said Farrell, like a -man scenting something beyond him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," said Apache Kid. "I understand that. -You will require some other method used upon you. -I don't know if it was, as you suggested, the gentleman's -religion that was to blame for it, but he suffered -from the fear of man. That was why he went away. -Now you, Farrell, I don't think you fear man, God——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No! Nor devil!" cried Farrell.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nor no more do I!" said Dan, turning on -Apache Kid. "Nor no more do I. And if the -loss o' the hosses don't cut any figure to you, it -don't no more to us, for we 're goin' through with -you right to the end."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But I thought that a something about his underlip, -as I saw it in the shadows of the fire, belied his -strong statement. Apache Kid was of my opinion, -for he looked keenly in Dan's face and remarked: -"A very good bluff, Daniel."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't you Daniel me!" cried the man. "You 're -gettin' too derned fresh and frisky and gettin' to -fancy yourself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's right. A bluff should be sustained," said -Apache Kid, insolently, and then dropping the -conversation, as though it were of absolutely no -moment, he rolled himself again in his blanket. And -this he had no sooner done—unconcerned, -untroubled, heedless of any possible villainy of these -two men—than Pinkerton's voice spoke behind me:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He 's a good man spoiled, is that Apache Kid. -I could ha' been doin' with a son like that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I think you 're kind o' a soft mark, right enough," -sneered Farrell to the now recumbent form of Apache -Kid. "I think you 're too soft to scare me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Apache Kid was up in a moment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Soft!" he cried, "soft!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And on his face was the look that he gave the -Italian livery-stable keeper at Camp Kettle, only, as -the saying is, </span><em class="italics">more</em><span> so.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I heard Donoghue gasp, you would have thought -more in fear than in exultation: "Say! When he -gets this ways you want to be back out of his way."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Look at me!" said Apache, standing up. "You -see I 've got on no belt; my gun's lying there with -the belt. I 've got no knife—nothing. Will you -stand up, sir, and let me show you if I 'm soft, -seeing that I have given you my word—not to kill -you?" You should have heard the way these last -words came from him. "Will you stand up and -let me just hammer you within an inch of your end?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Farrell did not quail; I will do him that justice. -But he sat considering, and then he jerked his head -and jerked it again doggedly, and, "No," he said, -"no, I reckon not."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The fire of anger had leapt quick enough to life -in Apache Kid, and it seemed to ebb as suddenly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All right," he said. "All right. Perhaps it is -better so. It would dirty my hands to touch you. -And indeed," he was moving back to his place -now, "lead is too clean for you as well."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He turned as he reached where his blankets lay.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Farrell," he said, "it is at the end of a rope that -you will die."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="in-which-the-tables-are-turnedat-some-cost"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XV</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><em class="bold italics medium">In Which the Tables Are turned—at Some Cost</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><img class="dropcap inline" style="height: 6.00em" alt="A" src="images/img-cap-15.jpg" /><span class="dropspan"></span><span>fter that peace came, and I dozed again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was a shot, followed by a scream, -that awoke me; and those kind gods -who guard us in our sleep and in our -waking caused me even at that moment not to obey -the sudden impulse to leap up. Instead, I flung my -hand to my revolver and lay flat—and in doing so -saved my life.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Beside me, with the first quick opening of my -eyes, I saw Donoghue kick in his blankets, like a -cat in a sack, and then lie still, and the second -shot rang in my ears, fired by the man Dan from -across the fire and aimed at me. But truly, it was -fated that Dan should go first of these two who -remained with us of his side, as Farrell had called it, -and it was I who was fated to do the deed. Let -me put it in that way, I beg of you. Let me say -"fated" in this instance, if in no other, for it is a -terrible thing to slay a man. And then I saw what -had befallen, after my shot had gone home and -Dan lay on his face where he had fallen—dead, -with the light of morning, of a new day, just -quivering up the eastern sky, and making the thing more -ghastly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Farrell and he must have quietly whispered over -their plan where they lay—to make a sudden joint -attack upon us. Dan's part had evidently been to -put an end to Larry and to me, while Farrell -attended to Apache Kid; for there was Farrell now -with a revolver in each hand, and both were held -to Apache Kid's head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At hearing my shot, for a moment Farrell glanced -round, and, seeing that Dan had failed in his attempt, -he cried out: "If you move, I kill Apache Kid here, -right off. Mind now! I kill him—and let the Lost -Cabin Mine slide. We 'll see who 's boss o' this -round up!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And then it suddenly struck me as strange that -they had not reckoned on the other two who were -with us,—Mr. Pinkerton and the half-breed. Even -as I was then considering their daring, there came a -moan from beside me. I flung round at the sound, -and there lay Pinkerton with his hand to his breast. -Yes; I understood now. That sound that woke me -was not of one shot; it was two,—Dan's first shot -at Larry, and Farrell's at Mr. Pinkerton. But what -of the half-breed? I bent to Mr. Pinkerton and, -with my hand under his neck, said: "O, Mr. Pinkerton! -Mr. Pinkerton! O, Mr. Pinkerton! can I do -anything for you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He looked upon me with his kind eyes, full of the -last haze now, and gasped: "My girl! My girl! -You will——" and he leant heavy in my arms.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will see to her," said I. "O, sir! this you -have got for us. It is through us that this has -happened. I will see that she never wants."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>These or some words such as these I spoke,—for -I never could rightly recall the exact speech in -looking back on that sad affair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You—you are all right, my son," he said, "but -if Apache Kid gets out o' this—he 's—he's more -fit like for——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I saw his hand fumble again on his breast, and -thought it was in an attempt to open his shirt; but -then I caught the agony in his eye, such as you may -have seen on a dumb man trying to make himself -understood and failing in the attempt. Something -of that look, but more woeful, more piteous to see, -was on his face. He was trying to hold his hand to -me; when I took it, he smiled and said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You or Apache—Meg." And that was the last -of this kindly and likeable man who had done so -much for us.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But what of the half-breed? Was he, too, slain? -Not so; but he was of a more cunning race than I -am sprung of. When I laid back Mr. Pinkerton's -head and again looked around, the half-breed was -gone from the place where he had lain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There, on his belly almost, he was creeping upon -Farrell from the rear. To me it seemed the maddest -and most forlorn undertaking.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was Farrell with the two revolvers held to -Apache Kid's head, talking softly, too quietly for me -to hear, and Apache Kid replying in a low tone -without any attempt at rising. And Farrell cried out: -"Nobody try to fire on me! At a shot I fire too! -My fingers is jest ready. I 'm a desperate man."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I crouched low, my breath held in dread, my -heart pounding in my side, at long intervals, so -that I thought it must needs burst. I did not -even dare look again at that crawling savage, lest -Farrell might perhaps cast another such quick glance -as he had already bestowed on me and, seeing the -direction of my gaze, realise his danger.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The result of such a discovery I dared not imagine. -There was enough horror already, without addition. -It was just then that Donoghue gave a queer little -wheezing moan and his eyes opened; but even as I -turned to him, "crash!" went a shot and I spun -round, a cry on my lips; and there lay Apache Kid, -as I had seen him before Donoghue's voice called -me away from observing him. But now he had -clutched Farrell's right wrist in what must have -been a mighty sudden movement, and was pushing -it from him. He had leapt sidewise a little -way, but without attempting to rise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There, thrusting away, in a firm grasp, the hand -that held the smoking weapon, he still looked up in -Farrell's eye, the other revolver before him so that -he must have looked fairly into it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You durn fool!" said Farrell. "You think I -did n't mean what I said? Well, let me tell you that -I run no more chances. Oh! you need n't grasp -this arm so fierce. I don't have to use it. But, -Apache Kid, I 'm goin' to kill you now. I reckon -that that there Lost Cabin ain't for any of us,—not -for you, for sure. Are you ready?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Quite ready," I heard Apache Kid say, his voice -as loud as Farrell's now, but more exultant still. It -horrified me to hear his voice so callous as he looked -on death. I wondered if now I should not risk a shot -as a last hope to save him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There, then!" cried Farrell.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But there followed only the metallic tap of the -hammer,—no report, only that steely click; and -before one could well know what had happened, -Apache Kid was the man on top, shoving Farrell's -head down in the sand, but still clutching Farrell's -right wrist and turning aside that hand that held the -weapon which, on his first sudden movement, had -sent its bullet into the sand beside Apache.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You goat!" cried Apache Kid. "When you -intend to use two guns, see that they both are -loaded, or else don't hold the one that you 've -fired the last from right in front of——" He broke -off and flung up his head, like a wolf baying, and -laughed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was a weird sight then, his face blackened -from the shot he had evaded. But by this time, -I need hardly tell you, I was by his side, helping to -hold down the writhing Farrell—and the half-breed -brought us the lariat from his horse and we trussed -Farrell up, hands and feet, and then stood up. And -as we turned from him there was Donoghue sitting -up with a foolish look on his face and the blood -trickling on his brow; and, pointing a hand at us, he -cried out, "Come here, some o' you sons o' guns, -and tie up my head a bit so as I kin git up and see -his hangin' afore I die."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Farrell writhed afresh in his bonds as he heard -Donoghue's cry, and in a voice in which there seemed -nothing human, he roared, "What! is that feller -Donoghue not killed?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, sir!" Donoghue replied, his head falling and -his chin on his breast, but eyes looking up, with the -blood running into them from under his ragged -eyebrows: "No, sir,—after you!" he cried, and he let -out that hideous oath that I had heard him use once -before, but cannot permit myself to write or any man -to read.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="sounds-in-the-forest"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XVI</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><em class="bold italics medium">Sounds in the Forest</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><img class="dropcap inline" style="height: 6.00em" alt="W" src="images/img-cap-16.jpg" /><span class="dropspan"></span><span>e hanged Farrell in the morning, for -he had broken the compact and he -was a murderer. And we laid -Pinkerton to his rest in the midst of -the plain, with a cairn of stones to -mark the spot.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Let that suffice. As for these two things you may -readily understand I have no heart to write. And -indeed, it would be a depraved taste that would desire -to read of them in detail. I know you are not of -those who will blame me for this reticence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When I told Apache Kid of Mr. Pinkerton's last -words he was greatly moved, as I could see, though -he kept a calm front, and he told the half-breed, who -left us then, to convey to Miss Pinkerton our united -sympathy with a promise that we would visit her -immediately on our return from our expedition.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then we set out again, a melancholy company, as -you will understand, Apache Kid and I carrying all -the provisions that he thought fit to take along with -us; for Donoghue was too light-headed to be -burdened with any load, and lurched along beside us as -we made toward the hills that closed in the plain -to north, lurched along with the red handkerchief -around his head and singing snatches of song now -and again. The bullet had ploughed a furrow along -the side of his head, and though the bleeding had -stopped he was evidently mentally affected by the -wound.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was drawing near nightfall again when we came -to the end of this seeming cul-de-sac of a valley, and -the hills on either side drew closer to us.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Before us now as we mounted, breathing heavily, -up the incline we saw the woods, all the trees -standing motionless, and already we could look well into -the hazy blue deep of that place.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have been here before," said Apache, "but not -much farther. We thought we might have to push -clear through this place and try what luck there was -in getting a shelter beyond. They pushed us very -close that time," he said meditatively. But so -absently did he speak this that, though I could not -make any guess as to who it was that was "pushing" -him "close" and who was with him on that perilous -occasion, I forbore to question.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>You have seen men in that mood yourself, I am -sure, speaking more to the air than to you.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He turned about at the entering into the wood and -we looked down on the plain stretching below us. A -long while he gazed with eyelids puckered, scanning -the shelving and stretching expanse.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Two parties have followed us," he said in a -whisper almost. "God grant there be no more, else when -we get the wealth that lies in store for us we shall -hardly be able to enjoy it for thinking of all it has -cost us. It has been the death of one good man -already," he added. "Ah, well! There is no sign -of any mortal there. We must push on through this -wilderness before us."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He stopped again and considered, Donoghue rocking -impotent and dazed beside us.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wonder where Canlan is to-night," he said, and -then we plunged into the woods.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>If the silence of the plain had been intense, we -were now to know a silence more august. I think it -was our environment then that made Apache Kid -speak in that whisper. There was something in this -deep wood before us that hushed our voices. I think -it was the utter lack of even the faintest twitter of any -bird, where it seemed fitting that birds should be, that -influenced us then almost unconsciously. Our very -tread fell echoless in the dust of ages there, the -fallen needles and cones of many and many an -undisturbed year. It was with a thrill that I found that -we had suddenly come upon what looked like a path -of some kind. Apache Kid was walking first, -Donoghue following, the knotted ends of the handkerchief -sticking out comically at the back of his head under -his hat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You see, we're on to a trail now," said Apache -Kid, as he trudged along. "You never strike a trail -just at the entrance into a place like this. Travellers -who have passed here at various times, you see, come -into the wood at all sorts of angles, where the trees -are thin. But after one gets into the wood a bit and -the trees get thicker, in feeling about for a passage -you find where someone has been before you and you -take the same way. A week, or a month, or a year -later someone else comes along and he follows you. -This trail here, for all that you can see the print of a -horse's hoof here and there on it, may not have been -passed over this year by any living soul. There -may not have been anyone here since I was here last -myself, three years ago—yes, that print there may -be the print of my own horse's hoof, for I remember -how the rain drenched that day, charging through -the pass here and dripping from the pines and -trickling through all the woods."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is a pass, then?" said I.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, yes," he explained. "It is what is called, in -the language of the country, a buck's trail. That -does not mean, as I used to think, an Indian trail. -It is the slang word for a priest. You find these -bucks' trails all over the country. They were made -by the priests who came up from old Mexico to -evangelise and convert the red heathen of the land. -I think these old priests must have been regular -wander-fever men to do it. Think of it, man, cutting -a way through these woods. Aha! See, there's a -blaze on a tree there. You can scarcely make it -out, though; it's been rained upon and snowed upon -and blown upon so long, year in, year out. Turn -about, now that we are past it, and you see the blaze -on this side. Perhaps the old buck made that -himself, standing back from the tree and swinging his -axe and saying to himself: 'If this leads me nowhere, -I shall at least be able to find my way back plain -enough.' Well! It's near here somewhere that I -stopped that time, three years ago. Do you make -out the sound of any water trickling?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We stood listening; but there was no sound save -that of our breathing, and then suddenly a "tap, tap, -tap" broke out loud in the forest, so that it startled -me at the moment, though next moment I knew it -was the sound of a busy woodpecker.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We moved on a little farther, and then Apache -Kid cried out in joy:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Aha! Here we are! See the clear bit down -there where the trees thin out?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We pushed our way forward to where, through the -growing dusk of the woods, there glowed between the -boles a soft green, seeming very bright after the dark, -rusty green of these motionless trees.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There is n't much elbow room round about us -here to keep off the wildcats," said Apache Kid, -looking round into the forest as we stepped forth -into this oasis and found there a tiny spring with a -teacupful of water in its hollow. The little trickle -that went from it seemed just to spread out and lose -itself almost immediately in the earth; but it served -our purpose, and here we camped.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Donoghue had been like a dazed man since morning, -but now, after the strong tea, he was greatly -refreshed and had his wits collected sufficiently to -suggest that we should keep watch that night, lest -another party were following us up. He also washed -the wound in his forehead, and, finding it bleeding -afresh after that, pricked what he called the "pimples" -from a fir-tree, and with the sap exuding therefrom -staunched the bleeding again, and I suppose used -one of the best possible healers in so doing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That there were wildcats in the woods there was no -doubt. They screamed half the night, with a sound -like weeping infants, very dolorous to hear. Apache -Kid took the first watch, Donoghue the second, and -I the third. I was to waken them at sunrise, and -after Donoghue shook me up and I sat by the glowing -fire, I remember the start with which I saw, after -a space, as I sat musing of many things, as one will -muse in such surroundings, two gleaming eyes looking -into mine out of the woods—just the eyes, upright -ovals with a green light, turning suddenly into -horizontal ovals and changing colour to red as I became -aware of them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We were generally careful to make our fire of such -wood as would flame, or glow, without shedding out -sparks that might burn our blankets; but some such -fuel had been put on the fire that night, and it suddenly -crackled up then and sent forth a shower of sparks. -And at that the eyes disappeared. I flicked the -sparks off my sleeping comrades and then sat musing -again, looking up on the stars and alternately into the -darkness of the woods and into the glow of the fire, -and suddenly I saw all along the forest a red line of -light spring to life, and my attention was riveted -thereon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I saw it climb the stems of trees far through the -wood and run up to the branches. A forest fire, -thought I to myself, and wondered if our danger was -great in that place. I snuffed the air. There was -certainly the odour of burning wood, but that might -have been from our camp-fire alone, and there was -also the rich, unforgettable odour of the balsam.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But so greatly did the line of fire increase and glow -that I stretched forth my hand and touched -Donoghue upon the shoulder. He started up, and, -following the pointing of my finger, glared a moment -through the spaces of the forest. Then he dropped -back again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is the dawn," he said, and drew the blankets -over his head. "Wake me in another hour."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But I sat broad awake, my heart glowing with a -kind of voiceless worship, watching that marvellous -dawn. It spread more slowly than I would have -imagined possible, taking tree by tree, running left -and right, and creeping forward like an advancing -army; and then suddenly the sky overhead was full -of a quivering, pale light, and in the dim blue pool of -the heavens the stars went out. But no birds sang to -the new day, only I heard again the tap-tap of a -woodpecker echoing about through the woods.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So I filled the can with water, which was a slow -process at that very tiny spring, and mixed the flour -ready for the flapjacks and then woke my comrades.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I must not weary you, however, recounting hour -by hour as it came. I have other things to tell you -of than these,—matters regarding hasty, hot-blooded -man in place of a chronicle of slow, benignant -nature.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On the journey of this day we came very soon to -what seemed to be the "height of land" in that part, -and descending on the other side came into a place -of swamp where the mosquitos assaulted us in clouds. -So terribly did they pester us that on the mid-day -camp, while Apache Kid made ready our tea (for -eatables we did with a cold flapjack apiece, having -made an extra supply at breakfast, so as to save time -at noon), I employed myself in switching him about -the head with a leafy branch in one hand, while with -the other I drove off another cloud of these pests -that made war upon me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>No sooner had we the tea ready than we put clods -and wet leaves upon the fire, raising a thick smoke, -a "smudge," as it is called, and sitting in the midst -of that protecting haze we partook of our meal, -coughing and spluttering, it is true; but the smoke in -the eyes and throat was a mere nothing to the -mosquito nuisance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I think that for the time being the mosquitos -spurred us forward as much as did our fear of being -forestalled in out quest. Mounting higher on our -left where a cold wind blew, instead of dipping down -into the next wooded valley, we found peace at last. -As we tramped along on this crest, where our view -was no longer cramped, where at last we could -see more than the next knoll before us or the -next abyss of woods, I noticed Apache constantly -scanning the country as though he were trying to -take his bearings.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Donoghue, who was now more like his rational, or -irrational self, soon seemed to waken up to his -surroundings, and fell to the same employ.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was to the valley westward, now that we were -upon the ridge, that they directed their attention. -Donoghue, his loose jaw hanging, his teeth biting on -his lips, posted on ahead of us and suddenly he -stopped, stood revealed against the blue peak of the -mountain on whose ridge we now travelled, in an -attitude that bespoke some discovery. He was on a -little eminence of the mountain's shoulder, a treeless -mound where boulders of granite stood about in -gigantic ruin, with other granite outposts dotted -down the hill into the midst of the trees, which stood -there small and regular, just as you see them in a -new plantation at home. He shaded his eyes from -the light, looked finally satisfied, and then sat down -to await our coming.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Apache stepped forward more briskly; quick and -eager we trotted up the rise where Donoghue merely -pointed into the valley that had now for over an hour -been so eagerly scanned. There, far off, in the green -forest bottom, the leaden grey glint of a lake showed -among the wearisome woods.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah! We'll have a smoke up," said Apache, -with an air of relief. So we sat down on our blanket-rolls -in the sunlight. There was a gleam in my -companions' eyes, a look of expectation on their faces, and -after that "smoke up" Apache spoke with a -determined voice, dropping his cigarette end and tramping -it with his heel.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We camp at that lake to-night," said he.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To-night?" said I, in astonishment, for it seemed -to me a monstrous length to go before nightfall; but -he merely nodded his head vehemently, and said -again: "To-night," and then after a pause: "We -lose time," said he, "there may be others:" and we -rose to our feet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We could n't camp up here, anyhow," said -Donoghue, looking round.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was truly a weird sight there, for we could see -so many valleys now, hollows, gulches, clefts in the -chaos of the mountains; here, white masts of trees -all lightening-struck on a blasted knoll; there, a -rocky cut in the face of the landscape like a -monstrous scar; at another place a long, toothed ridge -that must have broken many a storm in its day. -Besides, already, though it was but afternoon, a keen, -icy-cold wind ran like a draught there and the voice of -the wind arose and died in our ears from somewhere -in that long, rocky backbone, with a sound like a -railway train going by; and so it would arise and cease -again, and then cry out elsewhere in a voice of -lamentation, low and mournful.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Apache Kid was looking round and round, his eyes -wide and bright.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I should like to see this in Winter," said he, -"when leaves fall and cold winds come."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There 's no mortal man ever saw this in Winter," -said Donoghue, "and no man ever will."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I saw Apache Kid linger, and look on that terrible -and awesome landscape, with a half-frightened -fondness; and then he cast one more glance at the leaden -grey of the lake below and another at a peak on our -right and, his bearings thus in mind, led the way -downward into that dark and forbidding valley.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I shall never forget the journey down to that lake.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Winding here, winding there, using the axe -frequently as the thin trees I mentioned were passed, -and we entered the virgin forest below, close and -tangled, we worked slowly down-hill; and it was -with something of pleasure that we came at last -again onto what looked like a trail through the forest. -It was just like one of the field paths at home for -breadth; but a perfect wall of tangled bush and trees -netted together with a kind of tangled vine (the pea-vine, -I believe it is called), closed it in on either side.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We were on the track of the indomitable "buck" -again, I thought. But it was not so. His trail had -kept directly on upon the hill, Apache Kid told me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I thought you saw it from the knoll there," he -said, and then with a queer look on his face, "but you -can't go back now to look on it. Man, do you know -that a hunger takes me often to go back and see just -such places as that on the summit there? I take an -absolute dread that I must die without ever seeing -them again. There are places I cannot allow myself -to think of lest that comes over me that forces—aye, -forces—me to go back again for one look -more. I love a view like that more than ever any -man loved a woman."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Donoghue looked round to me and touched his -forehead and shook his head gently.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Rathouse," he said: "crazy as ever they make 'em."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But this is a trail we have come onto, sure -enough," I said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>My companions looked at it quietly and I noticed -how they both at once unslung their Winchesters -from their shoulders, for Donoghue had again taken -his share of our burdens.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not exactly a trail," said Apache Kid, "at least, -neither an Indian's trail nor a buck's trail this time. -What was that, Donoghue?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A sharp crack, as of a branch broken near us, -came distinctly to our ears.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Donoghue did not answer directly but said instead:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You walk first; let Francis here in the middle. -I 'll come last," and Donoghue dropped behind me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Apache nodded and we started on our way.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Neither to left nor right could we see beyond a few -feet, so close did the underbrush still whelm the way.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The sound of our steps in the stillness was more -eerie than ever to my ears. I felt that I should go -barefoot here by right, soundless, stealthy, watching -every foot of the way for a lurking death in the -bushes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Crack," sounded again a broken branch on our left.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," said Apache, softly—I was treading almost -on his heels and Donoghue was close behind me—"twigs -don't snap of their own accord like that in -mid-summer."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We kept on, however, not hastening our steps at all, -but at the same even, steady pace, and suddenly again -in the stillness—"Crack!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Again a branch or twig had snapped near by in the -thick woods through which we could not see.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-coming-of-mike-canlan"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XVII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><em class="bold italics medium">The Coming of Mike Canlan</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><img class="dropcap inline" style="height: 6.00em" alt="T" src="images/img-cap-17.jpg" /><span class="dropspan"></span><span>here was a cold shiver ran in my -spine at that second crack, for it was -eerie to know that some live thing, -man or beast, was following us up -through the bushes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's a lion, sure thing," Donoghue said behind -me, "and it's goin' at this stalking of us darned -careless, too. I wisht we could get to a clear place and -give him a chance to show himself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lion?" asked I, astonished.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes—panther, that is," said Apache Kid.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In the phraseology of the country, that is," I -suggested.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Apache looked over his shoulder at me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are pretty cool for a tenderfoot," he -remarked. "This is a bad spot for us to be stalked -by a beast like that. Let me come behind now, -Larry," he continued. "We are getting to a clear -place, I think, and he may spring before we get out."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not you," said Larry. "Just you go on ahaid -and let the lad keep in between."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Here the bushes thinned out considerably and -when we reached this opener part Donoghue bade -us walk straight on.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't look back," said he. "Let him think we -don't know he's followin'. Give him a chance to -cross this here glade. We'll stop just inside them -further trees and if he shows himself there, we 'll get -him then, sure thing. What between men and beasts -we suttingly have been followed up some this trip, -and I 'm gettin' tired of it. This here followin' up -has got to end."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But though we carried out Donoghue's suggestion, -crossing the open space, entering again on the path -where it continued down-hill in the forest again, and -halting there, the "lion" did not show himself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was here, while standing a little space, waiting -for the panther's appearance, if panther it was that -shadowed us, that Apache Kid pointed a finger at -the ground before us, where a tiny trickle of water, -in crossing the path, made it muddy and moist.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"See the deer marks?" he whispered. "Neat, -aren't they? This, you see, is a game trail from the -hills down to the lake——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No good," broke in Donoghue. "He ain't -going to show himself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So we passed on, and soon the way became more -precipitous; the underbrush cleared; the trees -thinned; and in a jog trot we at last went rattling -down the final incline and came right out with the -impetus of that run upon the open ground around -the lake, though of the lake itself, now that we were -at its level, we could discern little—only tiny grey -glimpses, so closely was it thronged about by rushes, -and they so tall.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A thousand frogs were singing, making quite a din -in our ears, so pent in was the sound in that cup-like -hollow. But weary as we were, we rejoiced to have -come to our desired camp and soon were sitting fed -and contented round the fire.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Of all our camps so far this seemed to me the -most secure. Consequently, it horrified me a little -when Apache Kid remarked, taking his cigarette -from his lips:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where do you think Canlan will be to-night?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Donoghue considered the burning log:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh! Allowing for him getting on to us pulling -out, even the day after we left, and allowing for him -starting out right then, he can't be nigher here than a -day's journey, coming in to the country the way he -would do it—over the shoulder of Mount Baker and -in that ways."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He 'll be over behind there, then," said Apache, -pointing; "right over that ridge, sitting by his -lonesome camp and perhaps half a dozen fellows dogging -him up too, eh?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Like enough," said Donoghue; "but he's -accustomed to bein' dogged up."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Those who live in glass houses..." remarked -Apache Kid, with a laugh that had no real merriment -in the ring of it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Donoghue raised his eyes to Apache's across the -fire and laughed back. And they both seemed to -fall into a reverie after these words. From their -remarks I gathered that they believed that Canlan -really knew the location of the mine. He had been -simply waiting in Baker City, then, for fear of my two -partners. So I sat silent and pondering. Presently -Apache Kid snorted and seemed to fling the thoughts -aside that had been occupying him. But anon he -fell brooding again, biting on his lip and closing an -eye to the glow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was after one such long, meditative gazing into -the glowing and leaping embers that he spoke to me, -and with such a ring in his voice as caused me to -look upon him with a new interest. The tone of the -voice, it seemed to me, hinted at some deep thought.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where do you come from, Francis?" he asked. -"What is your nationality?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, I'm a Cosmopolitan," said I, half smiling, -as one is prone to do when a man asks him some -trivial matter with a voice as serious as though he -spoke of strange things.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes; we all are," said Apache Kid, putting aside -my lightness. "But is n't it Edinburgh you come from?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said I.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He mused again at my reply, plucking his -finger-knuckles, and then turned an eye to Donoghue, -who was already surveying him under his watchful -brows.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Shall I tell him?" he asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell him what?" said Donoghue, looking -uncomfortable, I thought, as though this mood of his -partner's was one he did not relish.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell him what we are—how we live—all that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>From Apache to me and back again Donoghue -glanced, and then: "Oh! tell, if you like," said he. -"There won't no harm come from telling him. He's -safe. He 's all right, is Francis."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Again there was a pause.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," said Apache Kid, finally, ending his -reverie. "The fact is that we—Donoghue and -I—except upon occasion, when we want to make some -sort of a character for ourselves, to show a visible -means of support,—the fact is, we are——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Spit it out," said Donoghue. "Spit it out. It -ain't everybody has the courage to be."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I considered what was coming.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The fact is," said Apache Kid, "we are what they -call in this country road-agents—make our living by -holding up stage-coaches and——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"By gum! we 've held up more nor stage-coaches," -cried Donoghue, and began fumbling in an inner -pocket with eager fingers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And banks," said Apache Kid, gazing on me to -see the effect of this disclosure.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Donoghue stretched across to me, his loose face -gleaming with a kind of joy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Read that," he said. "Read what that says;" -and he handed me a long newspaper cutting.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What I read on the cutting was:</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span>"Daring Hold-Up of the Transcontinental. -<br />The Two-some Gang again at Work."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"That's us," said Donoghue, gloating. "It reads -pretty good, but Apache here says there ain't no -sense in the headin' about the two-some gang—says -them journalist boys is no good. Seems to me a -right slick notice—that's us, anyway."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Apache Kid seemed disturbed, annoyed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well! what do you think?" he said, fixing me -with his eye.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I 'm sorry," said I.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Donoghue threw back his head and laughed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's not the right sort of way to live?" said -Apache Kid, questioningly. "You know I can make -out a fine case in its defence."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," I replied. "I have no doubt you could, -and that's just what makes me all the more sorry -to think of your doing this. Still, I feel that you -having told me prevents me stating an opinion."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If someone else had told——" he began.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then I might speak," said I.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Should it not be the other way about?" he asked, -half smiling.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Perhaps it should," said I. "But if you honour -me by telling me, it is enough for me just to say I -am sorry. Would you have me preach?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He looked on me with great friendliness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I understand the sentiment," said he. "But I -should like you to preach, if you wish."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," said I, "I have no doubt you could, with -the brains you have and your turn for sophistry, -make out a very entertaining defence for such a -life. 'Murder as a fine art,' you know——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Murder?" asked Donoghue; but Apache Kid -silenced him with a gesture, and I continued:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But neither you nor those who heard your defence -could treat it otherwise than as a piece of airy and -misplaced, misdirected wit, on a par with your -misplaced love of adventure."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He nodded at that part, and his face cleared a -little.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That but makes me all the more sorry," said I, -"to know you are——" I paused. "A parasite!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I blurted out.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Parasite!" he cried; and his hand flew down to -his holster, wavered, and fell soundless on his crossed -legs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was the first time he had looked on me in anger.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What's parasite?" asked Donoghue.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A louse," said Apache Kid.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hell!" drawled Donoghue, and glanced at me. -"You need lookin' after."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There are parasites and parasites," said I. "In -this case it is more like these deer-lice we came by -in the forest."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We had suffered from these, but I have not said -anything of them, for the subject is not pleasant.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," drawled Donoghue. "They are fighters, -anyway, they are. You kind o' respect them."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Apache Kid smiled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," he said, in a low voice, "it's the right word, -nevertheless."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Donoghue jeered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Waal! Here's where I come in! Here's the -beauty of not being ediccated to big words nor what -they mean, nor bein' able to follow a high-toned talk -except the way a man follows a poor-blazed trail."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Apache surveyed him with interest for a moment -and then again turning to me he heaved a little sigh -and said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wonder if you would do something for me after -we get through with this expedition? If I were to -give you a little wad of bills, enough for a year's -holiday at home, I wonder if you 'd go and take a squint -at the house where my folks lived when I left home; -find out if they are still there, and if not, trace them -up? You 'd need to promise me not to let that -sentimental side of you run away with you. You 'd need -to promise not to go and tell them I'm alive; for -I 'm sure they have given me up for dead years ago -and mourned the allotted space of time that men and -women mourn—and forgotten. It would only be -opening fresh wounds to hear of me. They have -grieved for my death; I would not have them mourn -for my life. But I—well, I sometimes wonder. You -understand what I mean——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Watch your eye!" roared Donoghue. "Watch -your——" but a shot out of the forest sent him -flying along the ground, he having risen suddenly and -stretched for his rifle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Instead of clutching it he went far beyond, -ploughing the earth with his outstretched hands; -and right on the first report came a second and -Apache cried: "O!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He sagged down all in a heap, but I flung round -for my revolver—the one with which I had had -no practice. I heard the quick, dull plod of running -feet and before I could get my finger on my weapon -a voice was bellowing out:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't shoot, man; don't shoot! It's Canlan; -Mike Canlan. You ain't hostile to Mike Canlan."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I wheeled about, and there he was trailing his -smoking rifle in his left hand and extending his right -to me; Mike Canlan, little Mike Canlan with the -beady eyes, the parchment-like, pock-marked face, -and the boy's body.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Had my revolver been to hand, he had been a dead -man, I verily believe—he or I. As it was, I leapt on -him crying:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Murderer! Murderer!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Down came my fist on his head and at the jar his -rifle fell from his grasp. The next stroke took him -on the lips, sending him backwards. I pounded him -till my arms were weary, he lying there with his faded, -pock-marked face and his colourless eyes dancing -in pain and crying out: "Let up! Let up, you fool! -We ain't hostile. It's Canlan!" he cried, between -blows. "Mike Canlan."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At last I did "let up" and stood back from him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He sat up and wiped the blood from his mouth -and spat out a tooth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, lad," he said. "Here's a fine way to repay -me for savin' your life. Think I could n't have laid -you out stark and stiff there aside them two?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>My gorge rose to hear him talk thus.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Easy I could have done it," he went on, "but I -didn't. And why?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He sidled to me on his hams without attempting to -rise, and held up a finger to me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, lad, you saved my life once, so I spared -yours this blessed night. That's me, that's Mike -Canlan. And see here, lad, you and me now——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Silence!" I cried, drawing back from his touch, -as he crept nearer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I had seen murder done, of the most horrible kind. -I had seen a big-hearted, sparkling-eyed man, not -yet in his prime, struck out of life in a moment. -What he was telling me of himself was nothing to -me now. I only knew that I had come to like him -and that he was gone—slain by this little, insignificant -creature that you could not call a man. And I -had seen another man, whom I did not altogether -hate, sent to as summary an end. I held this man -who talked in the sing-song voice at my feet in -horror, in loathing. I bent to feel the heart of -Apache Kid, for I thought I saw a movement in his -sun-browned neck, as of a vein throbbing and—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"O! They're dead, dead and done with," cried -Canlan. "If they was n't, I 'd shove another shot into -each of 'em just to make sure. But they 're dead -men, for Canlan killed 'em. If they was n't, I 'd -shove another shot into each of them!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The words rang in my ears with warning. I had -just been on the point of trying to raise Apache Kid; -a cry of joy was almost on my lips to think that life -was not extinct; but the words warned me and I -turned about.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He's dead, ain't he?" said Canlan, and I lied to him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," I replied. "He is dead, and as for you——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"As for me—nothing!" said Canlan, and he -looked along his gleaming barrel at where my heart -fluttered in my breast.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You and me," said he, "has to come to terms -right now. Oh! I don't disrespec' you none for not -takin' kindly to this. I like you all the better for it. -But think of what you 've fallen into all through me. -Here 's half shares in the Lost Cabin Mine for you -now instead of a paltry third—half shares, my lad. -How does that catch you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I was not going to tell him the terms I was here on, -but I said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Put down your rifle then, and let us talk it over."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come, now, that's better," said Canlan, cheerily; -but I noticed that a nerve in his left cheek kept -twitching oddly as he spoke, and his head gave -constant nervous jerks left and right, like a man shaking -flies away from him, and he sniffed constantly, and I -think was quite unaware that he did so. But I did -not wonder at his nervousness after such a heinous -deed as he had performed that evening.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-lost-cabin-is-found"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XVIII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><em class="bold italics medium">The Lost Cabin is Found</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><img class="dropcap inline" style="height: 6.00em" alt=""C" src="images/img-cap-18.jpg" /><span class="dropspan"></span><span>ome, come," said Canlan, suddenly, -with an access of the facial twitching -and another sudden jerking of his -head. "If them 's your blankets, pack -'em up and let's git out o' this, back -to my camp the other side of the lake."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I thought it as well to obey him, for if either of these -men yet lived and should by any ill fortune emit as -much as a moan, I knew that Canlan would make a -speedy end then. If they lived, the best I could do -for them was to leave them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And yet there was another thing that I might -do—snatch up one of the revolvers and straightway mete -out justice—no less—upon this murderer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But he was on the alert and shoved his Winchester -against my neck as I stooped, tying my blanket-roll, -with my eyes surreptitiously measuring the distance -to the nearest weapon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"See here," he said, "I can't be runnin' chances -with you. I 've let you off already, but I can't be -givin' you chances to kill me now. Funny thing it -would be for me to let you off for having saved my -life once, and then you turn round and plug me now. -Eh? That would be a skin kind of a game to play -on a man. If that's your gun layin' there with the -belt, you can buckle on the belt but keep your hands -off the gun, or I gets tired o' my kindness. See?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He snarled the last word at me, and over my -shoulder I saw the leer on his grey face as he spoke. -So I packed my blankets without more ado and -buckled on my belt, with the revolver in its holster -hanging from it, and at Canlan's suggestion took also -a bag of flour with me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I guess there ain't no call to see what them two -has in their pockets by way of dough,"[#] said he. -"We don't have no need for feelin' in dead men's -pockets now—you and me," and he winked and -laughed a dry, crackling, nervous laugh, and stooped -to lift a torch from our fire.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">[#] Money.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>With this raised in his hand he whirled about on -me and said: "Now remember, I trusts you," and led -off at a brisk pace from the trodden circle of the -camp-fire. He had the tail of his eye on me, and I followed -at once.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We skirted the lake, keeping under the trees, the -torch sending the twisted shadows flying before us -and bringing them up behind; and just at the bend -of the lake I looked back at that camp, and it brought -to my mind the similar, or almost similar, scene I had -witnessed in the place of smouldering stumps behind -Camp Kettle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We plodded round the north end of this little lake, -and then a horse whinnied in the gloom, and, "Here -we are," cried Canlan, and stooping, he thrust the -torch into the embers of the fire he had evidently -had there and trodden out suddenly. He kicked it -together again, and soon the flames were leaping up -vigorously. Then he turned and looked on me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," said he, "you and your friends must ha' -travelled pretty quick. Clever lads! Clever lads! -Did you know that you was goin' to try and spoil -Mike Canlan's game that day I gave you good-bye at -Baker City?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not I," I replied. "I did not know then that -you knew the secret."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah well, I did! Clever lad Apache thought himself, -I guess, slinkin' away down to Camp Kettle and -cuttin' in that ways. Well, I ain't surprised he took -that way. He knows it well. If all stories is true, -he 's played hide and seek in that same valley more -nor once with gentlemen that had some desire for to -settle accounts with him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He blinked on me, and then sniffed twice, and -suddenly pursed his lips and said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But that ain't here nor there. Are you on to -take my offer o' half shares in this?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The whole man was still loathsome to me, and I -cried out:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no! And would to Heaven I had never -heard of this horrible and accursed quest."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," drawled Canlan, "I 'm gettin' some tired -o' havin' no sleep nights for sittin' listenin' for fellers -follerin' me up. Not that they 'd kill me in my sleep. -I guess I 'm too precious like for that. I 've been -keepin' myself up on tanglefoot all the way in, but -I did n't bring nigh enough for them mountains, and -it's give out. It's give out this last day and a night, -and by jiminy, I 'm gettin' them again. I feel 'em -comin' on. It ain't good for a man like me wantin' -my tonic. Say," and his face twitched again, "I 'm -jest holdin' myself together now by fair devil's -desperation; when I get to the end o' this journey I 'm -gettin' some scared my brain-pan will jest——" he -stopped abruptly and began on a fresh track: -"Well, it's natural, I guess, for you to feel bad -to-night, you bein' partners o' them fellers so recent. -But you'll be better come morning. Say, if I lay -down and sleep you won't shoot me sleepin', eh?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I won't do that," said I.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's a bargain, then," he cried, and before I -could say another word he threw himself down beside -the fire.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He drew his hand over his brow and showed me it wet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's for wantin' the liquor," he said. "A man -what don't know the crave can't understand it. I -know what I need though. Sleep,—that's what I -need; and I 'm jest goin' to force myself to sleep."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I made no reply, but looked on him as he lay, -and perceived that his ghastly face was all clammy in -the fire-sheen as he reclined in this attempt to steady -his unstrung nerves. For me, I sat on, scarcely -heeding the noises of the midnight forest. I heard a -mud-turtle ever and again, with that peculiar sound as of -a pump being worked. That was a sound new to -me then, but the other cries—of the wildcats and -wolves—I heeded little.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Once or twice I thought of taking a brand from the -fire to light me round to the camp across the lake, -that I might discover whether, indeed, both my friends -were dead. But, as I turned over this thought of -return in my mind, Canlan brought down his arms again -from above his head where they had lain relaxed, -and, opening his eyes, rolled on his side and looked -up at me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't you do it," he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do what?" I inquired.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What you was thinkin' of," he replied.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And what was that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You know," he said, thickly and grimly, "and I -know. Two men alone in the mountains can't ever -hide their thoughts from each other. Mind you that!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What was I thinking of doing, then?" I asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's all right," he said. "You can't bluff me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, what then?" I cried, irritated.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He sat up.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You was thinkin' of goin' right off, right now. -No, it wasn't to get in ahead of me at the Cabin -Mine. I 'm beginnin' to guess that Apache Kid -did n't let you know so much as that. But you was -just feelin' so sick and sorry like that you thought o' -gettin' up quiet and takin' my hoss there and——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was watching my face as he spoke, peering up -at me and sniffing. With a kick he got the fire into -a blaze, but without taking his eyes from me. Then, -"No, you was n't thinkin' that, either," he said, in a -voice as of disappointment that his power of -mind-reading seemed at fault.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Derned if I dew know what you was thinkin'," he -acknowledged. "Oh, you 're deeper than most," he -went on, "but I 'll get to know you yet. Yes, siree; -I 'll see right through you yet."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He lay down after this vehement talk, as though -exhausted, wiping the sweat from his brow where it -gleamed in the little furrows of leathery skin. He -was not a pretty man, I assure you.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A feeling as of pride came over me to think that -this evil man was willing to take my word that I -would not meddle him in his sleep, as I saw him -close his eyes once more,—this time really asleep, -I think.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But to attempt to return to Apache Kid's camp I -now was assured in my mind would be a folly. At a -merest movement of mine Canlan might awaken, and -if he suspected that I entertained a hope of at least -one of my late companions being alive, he might -himself be shaken in his belief in the deadly accuracy of -his aim.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I pictured him waking to find me stealing away to -Apache's camp and stealthily following me up. I -even pictured our arrival at the further shore—the -still glowing fire, both my companions sitting up -bleeding and dazed and trying to tend each other, -Canlan marching up to them while they were still in -that helpless predicament and blowing their brains -from his Winchester's mouth. So I sat still where I -was and eventually dozed a little myself, till morning -came to the tree-tops and slipped down into the -valley and glowed down from the sky, and then -Canlan awoke fairly and stretched himself and yawned a -deal and moaned, "God, God, God!"—three times.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And I thought to myself that this reptile of a man -might well cry on God on waking that morning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Neither he nor I, each for our own reasons, ate any -breakfast. My belongings I allowed him to pack on -his horse with his own, so that I might not be -burdened with them, the chance of a tussle with Canlan -being still in my mind. Then, after we had -extinguished the fire, a thought came to me. It was when -I saw that he was going to strike directly uphill -through the forest that I scented an excuse to get -back to my comrades. True, my hope that they -lived was now pretty nigh at ebb, for I argued to -myself that if life was in them, they would already -have managed to follow us. Aye! I believed that -either of them, supposing even that he could not -stand, would have </span><em class="italics">crawled</em><span> along our trail at the first -light of day, bent upon vengeance; for I had learnt -to know them both as desperate men—though to -one of them, despite what I knew of his life, I had -grown exceedingly attached.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I 'll go back to our old camp," said I, "and bring -along an axe if you are going right up that way. We -may need it to clear a way for the horse."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He wheeled about.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Say!" he said. "What are you so struck on -goin' back to your camp for. Guess I 'll come with -you and see jest what you want."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He looked me so keenly in the eye that I said at -once, knowing that to object to his presence would -be the worst attitude possible: "Come, then," and -stepped out; but when he saw that I was not averse -to his company he cried out:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no. I have an axe here that will serve the -turn if we need to do any cutting. But I reckon we -won't need to use an axe none. It's up this here -dry watercourse we go, and there won't be much -clearin' wanted here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was now broad day, and as I turned to follow -Canlan again I gave up my old friends for dead.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The man's short, broad back and childish legs, and -the whole shape of him, seemed to combine to raise -my gorge.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I would be liker a man," I thought, "if I struck -this reptile dead." And the thought was scarce come -into my mind and must, I think, have been glittering -in my eyes, when he flashed around on me his -colourless face, and said he:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Remember, I trust my life to you. I take it that -you 've agreed to my offer of last night to go half -shares on this. God knows you 'll have to look after -me by nightfall, this blessed day—unless there 's -maybe a tot o' drink in that cabin."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the thought he absolutely screamed:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A tot o' drink! A tot o' drink!" and away he -went with a sign to me to follow, scrambling up the -watercourse before his horse, which followed with -plodding hoofs, head rising and falling doggedly, and -long tail swishing left and right. I brought up the -rear. And thus we climbed the greater part of the -forenoon, with occasional rests to regain our wind, -till at last we came out on the bald, shorn, last crest -of the mountain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Canlan marched the pony side on to the hill to -breathe; and he himself, blowing the breath from him -in gusts and sniffing a deal, pointed to the long, -black hill-top stretching above us.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A mountain o' mud," he said. "That's it right -enough. Some folks thinks that everything that -prospectors says they come across in the mountains -is jest their demented imaginatings like; but I -seen mountains o' mud before. There 's a terror of -a one in the Crow's Nest Pass, away up the east -Kootenai; and there's one in Colorado down to the -Warm Springs country. You can feel it quiver -under you when you walk on it—all same jelly. -See—you see that black crest there? That's all mud. -This here, where we are, is good enough earth -though, all right, with rock into it. It's here that we -turn now. Let me see——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He took some fresh bearings, looking to the line -of hills to the south-east. I thought I could pick -out the notch at the summit, over there, through -which Apache Kid, Donoghue, and I had come; and -then he led off again—along the hill this time, his -head jerking terribly, and his whole body indeed, so -that now and again he leapt up in little hopping steps -like one afflicted with St. Vitus' dance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Up a rib of the mountain, as it might be called, he -marched, I now walking level with him; for I must -confess I was excited.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And then I saw at last what I had journeyed so -painfully and paid so cruelly to see,—a little -"shack," or cabin, of untrimmed logs of the colour -of the earth in which it stood, there, just a stone's -cast from us, between the rib on which we stood -and the next rib that gave a sweeping contour to -the hill and then broke off short, so that the -mountain at that place went down in a sharp slope, -climbed upon lower down by insignificant, scrubby -trees. But there—there was the cabin, sure enough. -There was our journey's end.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Canlan turned his ashen face to me, and his -yellow eyeballs glittered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It looks as we were first," he said, his voice -going up at the end into a wavering cry and his -lips twitching convulsively.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="canlan-hears-voices"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XIX</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><em class="bold italics medium">Canlan Hears Voices</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><img class="dropcap inline" style="height: 6.00em" alt="Y" src="images/img-cap-19.jpg" /><span class="dropspan"></span><span>ou should have seen the way in which -Canlan approached that solitary, -deserted cabin. One might have -thought, to see him, that he fully -expected to find it occupied.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hullo, the shack," he cried, leading his horse -down from the rocky rib on which we had paused -to view the goal of our journey. I noticed how -the horse disapproved of this descent; standing -with firm legs it clearly objected to Canlan's -leading. The reins were over its head, and Canlan was -a little way down the rib hauling on them, -half-turned and cursing it vehemently. It could not -have been the slope that troubled the animal, for -that was trifling; but there it stood, dumbly -rebellious, its neck stretched, but budge a foot it would -not.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At last it consented to descend, but very gingerly -feeling every step with doubtful forefeet, and craned -neck still straining against Canlan. Even when he -succeeded in coaxing and commanding it to the -descent it seemed very doubtful about going out -on the hollow toward the shack, and reminded me, -in the way it walked there, of a hen as you may see -one coming out of a barn when the rain takes off.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What in thunder's wrong with you?" cried -Canlan. "Come along, will you? Looks as if there -was somebody, sure thing, in the shack. Hullo, -the shack! Hullo, the cabin!" he hailed again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"——the shack! Hullo, the cabin!" cried out -the rib beyond, in an echo.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So Canlan advanced on the cabin, his rifle loose -on his arm, right up to the door on which he -knocked, and from the sound of the knocking I -declare I had an idea that the place was tenanted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He knocked again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sounds as if there was somebody in here," he -said, in a low, thick whisper, so that I thought he -was afraid.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He knocked again, rat-tat-tat, and sniffed twice, -and piped up in his wheezy voice: "Good day, -sir; here's two pilgrims come for shelter."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was at his third rap, louder, more forcible on -the door, which was a very rough affair, being -three tree-stems cleft down the centre and bound -together with cross-pieces, as I surmised, on the -inside,—just at the last dull knock of his knuckles -that the door fell bodily inward, and a great flutter -of dust arose inside the dark cabin.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Anyone there?" he asked, and then stepped boldly in.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nobody here," he said, bringing down his rifle -with a clatter. "One has to be careful approaching -lonesome cabins far away from a settlement at -all times."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then suddenly he turned a puzzled face on me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Queer that, eh?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, that there door. Propped up from the -inside. If there was any kind of a smell here apart -from jest the or'nary smell of a log shanty, I 'd be -opining that that there number three o' this here -</span><em class="italics">push</em><span> that worked the mine—— Say!—" he broke -off, "where in thunder is the prospect itself?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And out he went of the mirk of the cabin, in a -perfect twitter of nerves, and away across to the -spur of which I told you.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There I saw him from the door (by which the pack-horse -stood quiet now, the reins trailing) kick his foot -several times in the earth. Then he turned to see if -I observed him, and flicking off his hat waved it round -his head and came posting back.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There 's half a dozen logs flung across the shaft -they sunk," said he, "and they're covered over with -dirt, to hide it like. Let's get in first and see what's -what inside."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was no flooring to the cabin and at one end -was a charred place on the ground. Canlan looked -up at the low roof there and, stretching up his hands, -groped a little and then removed a sort of hatch in -the roof.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This here," said he, "hes bin made fast from the -inside too—jest like the door. Look in them bunks. -Three bunks and nothin' but blankets. And over -the floor the blankets is layin' too, hauled about."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The light from the hatch above was now streaming in.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Them blankets is all chawed up," he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Heavens!" I gasped. "Were they driven to that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What devils me," he said, not replying to my -remark but looking round the place with a kind of -anxiety visible on his forehead, "is this here fixin' up -from the inside. There's blankets, picks, shovels, -all the outfit, and there's the windlass and tackle for -the shaft-head. No," he said, recollecting my -remark, "them blankets was n't chawed up by them. -Rats has been in here—and thick. See all the sign -o' them there?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He pointed to the floor, but it was then that I -observed, in a corner, after the fashion of a -three-cornered cupboard, a rough shelving that had been -made there. Every shelf, I saw, was heaped up -with something,—but what? I stepped nearer and -scrutinised.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Look at all the bones here," I said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Canlan was at my side on the very words.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's him!" he said, in a gasp of relief. "That's -him. That's number three. That's him that stuck -up the door and the smoke hole."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I turned on him, the unspoken question in my face, -I have no doubt.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>All the fear had departed from his face now as he -snatched up a bone out of one of the shelves.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>These bones, I should say, were all placed as neatly -and systematically as you could wish, built up in -stacks, and all clear and clean as though they had -been bleached.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This here was his forearm," said Canlan, his -yellow eyeballs suddenly afire with a fearsome light; -and he rapped me over the knuckles with a human -elbow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ain't it terrible?" he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is terrible," said I.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah!" he cried. "But I don't mean what you -mean; I mean ain't it terrible to think o' that?" and -he pointed to the cupboard, "to think o' comin' to -that—bein' picked clean like that—little bits o' you -runnin' about all over them almighty hills inside the -rats' bellies and your bones piled away to turn yellow -in a spidery cupboard."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I stepped back from his grinning face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But how do these bones come there?" I said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's the rats," he replied, "them mountain rats -always pile away the bones o' everything they eat—make -a reg'lar cache o' them; what for I dunno; but -they do; that's all."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I stood then looking about the place, thinking of -the end of that "number three," all the horror of his -last hours in my mind; and as I was thus employed, -with absent mien, suddenly Canlan laid his hand on -my arm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What you lookin' that queer, strained ways for?" -he whispered, putting his face within an inch of mine, -so that I stepped back from the near presence of -him. "That was a mighty queer look in your eyes -right now. Say; do you know what you would -make? You'd make an easy mark for me to -mesmerise. You 'd make a fine medium, you would."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I looked at him more shrewdly now, thinking he -was assuredly losing his last hold on reason; but he -flung back a step from me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"O! You think me mad?" he cried, and verily he -looked mad then. "Eh? Not me. You don't think -I can mesmerise you? I've mesmerised heaps—men -too, let alone women," and he grinned in a very -disgusting fashion. "Say! If we could only see a -jack-rabbit from the door o' this shack, I 'd let you -see what I could do. I 'd give you an example o' my -powers. I can bring a jack-rabbit to me, supposin' -he's lopin' along a hillside and sees me. I jest looks -at him and </span><em class="italics">wills</em><span> him to stop—and he stops. And -then I wills him to come to me—and he comes. -Mind once I was tellin' the boys at the Molly Magee -about bein' able to do it and they put up the bets I -could n't—thought I was jest bluffin' 'em, and I -went right out o' the bunkhouse a little ways and -fetched a chipmunk clean off a rock where he was -settin' lookin' at us,—there were n't no jack-rabbits -there,—fetched him right into my hand. And then a -queer, mad feelin' come over me—I can't just tell -you about it—I don't just exactly understand it -myself. I closes my hand on that chipmunk and jest -crushed him dead atween my fingers. And suthin' -seemed kind o' relieved here then, in the front o' my -head, right here. The boys never forgot that. They -kind o' lay away off from me after that—did n't like -it. Yes, I could mesmerise you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He waved his hands suddenly before my eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Feel any peculiar sensation at that?" he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said I.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What like?" he asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I feel that I 'll not let you do it again," said I.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Scared like? Feel kind o' slippin' away?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," I said quietly: "not scared one little bit. -But I object to your waving your hands within an -inch of my face. Any man of grit would n't allow it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, well, say no more. We 'd better be investigating -this yere shack. God! If there was only a -drink on the premises. I tell you </span><em class="italics">they 're</em><span> comin' on -again, and when they come on I 'm fearsome—I am."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He looked round the place again and then cried -out in a voice of agony:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Look here! I don't want to lose holt o' myself -yet; perhaps a little bit of grub now might help me. -I reckon I might be able to shove some down my -neck as a dooty. You go and make up the fire -outside, do."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He spoke this in a beseeching whine. To see the -way the creature changed and veered about in his -manner was interesting.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We ain't goin' to sleep in here to-night, anyways, -not for Jo, wi' them mountain rats comin' in on us. -It'll take quite a while o' huntin' to get all their holes -filled up. You go and make dinner. I could do a -flapjack and a slice o' bacon, I think, with a bit o' -a struggle and some resolution like."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Anything that might prevent me having a madman -on my hands in that wilderness was not to be -ignored, so I went out and ran down the slope to where -the bushes climbed, and gathered fuel, a great armful, -and so came back again and made up a fire.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Water was not so easy to find, but a muddy and -boggy part of the hill led me to a spring, and I set to -work on preparing food.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With all this coming and going I must have been -busied quite half an hour before even getting the -length of mixing the dough. Canlan, by that time, -had got the windlass out and had lugged it across -to the covered shaft beside the spur of outcropping -rock that ran down parallel with the ridge in the -lee of which I had lit the fire. He went back to -the cabin and carried out the coil of rope, and had -just got that length in his employ when I called him -over for our meal; our evening meal it was, for, -intent on our labours, we had not noticed how the sun -was departing. All the vasty world of hollows below -us was brimmed with darkness. All the peaks and -the mountain ridges marching one upon the other -into the shadowing east were lit, toward us, with the -last light when Canlan sat down to force himself to -eat. But I saw he had difficulty in swallowing. The -jerking of face and hands, I also perceived, was -increasing past ignoring. So too, presently became -the fixed stare of his eye upon us as he sat with his -hand frozen on a sudden half-way to his mouth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Listen! Don't you hear nuthin'?" he asked, -hoarse and low.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nothing," said I.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah! It's jest them fancies," said he, and fell silent.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then again, with a strange, nervous twitch and -truly awful eyes, he said in a whisper, "Say, tell me -true? Did n't you hear suthin' right now?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I heard a coyote howl," I said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no; but somebody whispering?" he said. -"Two or three people all huddling close somewhere -and tellin' things about me. By gum! I won't have -it! I dursent have it!" he said in a low scream—which -is the best description of his voice then that I -can give you.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I shuddered. He was a terrible companion to have -here on this bleak, windy hillside, with the thin trees -below us marching down in serried ranks to the -thicker forest below, and the scarped peaks showing -against the pale moon that hung in the sky awaiting -the sun's going.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I shook my head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sure?" he asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Positive," said I.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He bent toward me and said in a small voice, -"Keep your eye on me now. I ain't goin' to ask -you another time, for I think when I speak they stop -a-whispering; but I'll jest twitch up my thumb like -this—see?—fer a signal to you when I hear 'em."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He sat hushed again; and then suddenly his eyes -started and he raised his thumb, turning a face to me -that glittered pale like lead.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now?" he gasped.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nothing," I said: "not a sound."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, but I spoke there," he said. "I ought n't to -have spoken; that scared 'em; and they quit the -whispering when they hear me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He sat again quiet, his head on the side, listening, -and I watching his hand, thinking it best to humour -him and to try to convince him out of this lunacy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But my blood ran chill as I sat, and his jaw fell -suddenly in horror for a voice quavering and ghastly -cried out from somewhere near by, "Mike Canlan! -Mike Canlan! I see you, Mike Canlan!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And a horrible burst of laughter that seemed to -come from no earthly throat broke the silence, died -away, and a long gust of wind whispered past us on -the hill-crest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It had been evident to me that though Canlan -bade me hearken for the whispering voices that he -himself did not actually believe in their existence. -He had still sufficient sense left to know that the -whispering was in his own fancy, the outcome of -drink and of—I need not say his conscience, -but—the knowledge that he had perpetrated some -fearsome deeds in his day, deeds that it were better not -to hear spoken in the sunlight or whispered in the -dusk.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But this cry, out of the growing night, real and -weird, so far from restoring equanimity to his mind -appeared to unhinge his mental faculties wholly. -His eyeballs started in their sockets; and there -came the cry again:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mike Canlan! Mike Canlan! I 'm on your trail, -Mike Canlan!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As for myself, I had no superstitious fears after the -first cry, though I must confess that at the first -demented cry my heart stood still in a brief, savage -terror. But I speedily told myself that none but -a mortal voice cried then; though truly the voice -was like no mortal voice I had ever heard.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was otherwise with Canlan. Fear, abject fear, -held him now and he turned his head all rigid like -an automaton and, in a voice that sounded as though -his tongue filled his mouth so that he could hardly -speak, he mumbled: "It's him. It's Death!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Aye, it was death; but not as Canlan imagined.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was silence now, on the bleak, black hill, -and though I had mastered the terror that gripped -me on hearing the voice, the silence that followed -was a thing more terrible, not to be borne without -action.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then suddenly the voice broke out afresh quite -close and Canlan turned his head stiffly again and -I also looked up whence the voice came—and there -was the face of Larry Donoghue looking down on -us from the rib of rocky hill under whose shelter we -sat. There was a trickle of blood, or a scar—it was -doubtful which—from his temple down his long, -spare jaw to the corner of the loose mouth; the eyes -stared down on us like the eyes of a dead man, blank -and wide.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He stretched out his arms and gripped in the -declivity of the hill with his fingers, crooked like -talons, and pulled himself forward; but at that tug -he lost his balance, lying on his belly as he was, and -came down the slope, sliding on his face, the kerchief -still about his head as I had seen him when I thought -he had breathed his last.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In Canlan's mind there was no question but that -this was Larry Donoghue's wraith. He tried to cry -out and could not, gave one gulping gasp in his -throat, and when Donoghue slid down the bank, as -I have described, Canlan leapt to his feet and ran for -it—ran without any intelligence, straight before him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I have told you that the next rib of rock broke off -sheer and went down in a declivity. Thither Canlan's -terror took him; and the last I saw of him was his -legs straddled in the run, out in mid-air, as though to -take another stride; and then down he went. But -it was to Donoghue I turned and strove to raise him. -For one fleeting moment he seemed to know me; our -eyes met and then the light of recognition passed out -of his and he sank back. It was a dead man I held -in my arms, and though I had never greatly cared for -him, that last glance of his eye was so full of -yearning, so pathetic, so helpless that I felt a lump in my -throat and a thickness at my heart and as I laid him -back again I burst into a flood of tears that shook -my whole frame.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A strange, gusty sound in my ear and the feeling -of a hot vapour on my neck brought me suddenly -round in, if not fear, something akin to it. But I -think absolute fear was pretty well a thing I should -never know again after these occurrences.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was Canlan's horse standing over me snuffing -me; and when I raised my head he gave a quiet -whinny and muzzled his white nose to me. Perhaps -in his mute heart the horse knew that these sounds -of mine bespoke suffering, and truly these -pack-horses draw very close to men, in the hills.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But though the horse brought me back in a way -to manliness and calm it was a miserable night that -I spent there. I sat up and with my chin in my -hands remained gazing vacantly eastwards until the -morning broke in my eyes. And behind me stood -the horse thus till morning, ever and again touching -my shoulder with his wet nose, his warm breath -puffing on my cheek.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I was thankful, indeed, more than I can tell you, -for that companionship. And now and then I put -up my hand and when I did so the beast's head -would come gently down for me to clap his nose, -and doing so I felt myself not altogether alone and -friendless on that hill of terror and of death.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="compensation"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XX</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><em class="bold italics medium">Compensation</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><img class="dropcap inline" style="height: 6.00em" alt="F" src="images/img-cap-20.jpg" /><span class="dropspan"></span><span>rom where I sat on the frontage of -that hill, the black, treeless mountain -behind me, the hurly-burly of the -scattered, out-cropping hills and -tree-filled basins below me, as the sun -came up in my face, my gaze was attracted to a bush -upon the incline.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This bush stood apart from the others on the hill, -like an advance scout; and as the sunlight streamed -over the mountains I saw the branches of it agitated -and a bird flew out, a bird about the size of a -blackbird. I do not know its name, but it gave one of the -strangest cries you ever heard—like this:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bob White! Bob White! Bobby White!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And away it flew with a rising and falling motion -and down into the cup below, from where its cry -came up again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It is difficult for me to tell you exactly what that -bird meant to me then. My heart that was like a -stone seemed cloven asunder on hearing that bird's -liquid cry. That there was something eerie in the -sound of it, so like human speech, did in nowise -affect me. To terror, to the weird, to the unknown -I now was heedless. But at that bird's cry my heart -seemed just to break in sunder and I wept again, a -weeping that relieved me much, so that when it was -over I felt less miserable and heartsore. And I prayed -a brief prayer as I had never prayed before, and was -wondrously lightened after that; and turning to the -horse, as men will do when alone, I spoke to it, -caressing its nose and pulling its pricked ears. And then -it occurred to me that if Donoghue had survived his -wound, Apache Kid might still be alive. It had been -for Apache, indeed, that I had entertained greater hope.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Shall we go down to the valley and see if my -friend still lives?" I said, speaking to the horse; and -just then the beast flung his head up from me and -his eyeballs started.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I looked in the direction of his fear—and there -was Apache Kid and no other, climbing up from -the direction of the bush whence the bird had flown -away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I rushed down the rise upon him with outspread -arms, and at our meeting embraced him in my relief -and joy, and dragged him up to my fire, and had all -my story of my doings of the night, the day, and the -night told him, and of Donoghue and of Canlan—a -rattling volley of talk, he listening quietly all the -while, and smiling a little every time I broke in upon -my tale with: "You do not blame me, Apache?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And then I asked him, all my own selfish heart -being outpoured, how it was that I found him here -alive.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"As for your accusations," he said, "dismiss them -from your mind. In all you have told me I think -you acted with great presence of mind and forethought. -As for my escape from death, and Larry's, -it must have been due entirely to the condition of that -reptile's nerves, as you describe him to me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had been standing with his back to where Donoghue -lay, and now in the light that took all that black -hillside at a bound, I saw a sight that I shall never -forget. For there, where should have been the dead -man's face, was nought but a skull, and perched upon -the breast of the man and licking its chops, showing -its front teeth, was one of the great mountain rats.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Apache Kid followed the gaze of my eyes, looked -at me again with that knitting of the brows, as in anger -almost, or contempt.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Brace up!" he said sharply.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Brace up!" I cried. "Is it you who tell me to -brace up, you who brought me into this hideous -place, you who are to blame for all this! I was a lad -when you asked me to accompany you that day at -Baker City—it feels like years ago. Now, now," -and I heard my voice breaking, "now I am like a -man whose life is blighted."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When I began my tirade he looked astonished at -first, and then I thought it was a sneer that came -upon his lips, but finally there was nothing but -kindliness visible.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I was only trying the rough method of pulling -you together," he said, "and it seems it has -succeeded. Man, man, you have to thank me. Come," -and taking me by the arm and I unresisting, he led -me to the cabin.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was curious how then I felt my legs weak under -me, and all the hill was spinning round me in a -growing darkness. I felt my head sinking and heard my -voice moan: "Oh! Apache, I am dying. This -night has killed me!" and I repeated the words in a -kind of moan, thinking myself foolish in a vague way, -too, I remember, and wondering what Apache Kid -would think of me. And then the darkness suddenly -closed on me, a darkness in which I felt Apache Kid's -hands groping at my armpits, lifting me up, and then -I seemed to fall away through utter blackness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When I came again from that darkness, I stretched -out my hands and looked around.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I had been dreaming, I suppose, or delirious and -fevered, for I thought myself at home in the old -country, imagined myself waking in the dark Hours; -but only for a moment did that fancy obtain with me. -All too soon I knew that I was lying in the Lost Cabin, -but by the smell of the "fir-feathers" on which I lay, -I knew that they were freshly gathered, and from the -bottom of my heart I thanked Apache Kid for his -forethought. For to have wakened in one of these -bunks would, I believe, have made me more fevered -than I was already. It was night, or coming morning -again. The hatch was off the roof, and through that -hole a grey smoke mounted from a fire upon the -earthen floor. The door was fastened up again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At my turning, Apache Kid came to me out of the -shadows and bent over me; but his face frightened -me, for with the fever I had then on me it seemed -a monstrous size, filling the whole room. I had sense -enough to know from this that I was ill, and looking -into that face which I knew my fever formed so -hideously, I said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Apache Kid! It would be better to die and -have done with it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nonsense, man," he said. "Nonsense, man. -There are so many things that you have to live -for:" and he held up his left hand, the fingers -seeming swollen to the size of puddings, and -began counting upon them. "You have a lot of -duties to perform to mankind before you can -shuffle off. Shall I count some of them for you?" And -he put his right forefinger to the thumb of his left -hand and turned to me as though to begin; but he -thought better of it, and then said he:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I know you have a lot to do before you can -shuffle off. But if you would perform these duties, -you must calm yourself as best you can."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How long have I lain here?" I asked suddenly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Just since morning," said he. "A mere nothing, -man. After another sleep you will be better, and -then we——" he paused then.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We will do what?" I said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We will get out of here and away home," he said, -and took my hand just as a woman might have done, -and wiped my brow and kept smoothing my hair till -I slept again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>From this I woke to a sound of drumming, as of -thousands of pattering feet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was the rain on the roof. Rain trickled from it -in many places, running down in pools upon the floor. -The smoke hole was again covered, the fire out, but -the door was open, and through it I had a glimpse -of the hills, streaming with rain and mist.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Apache Kid sat on one of the rough stools by the -door, looking outward, and I called him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He came quick and eager at my cry.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Better?" he said. "Aha! That's what the rain -does. And here 's the man that was going to die!" -he rallied me. "Here, have a sip of this. It is n't -sweet, but it will help you. I 've been rummaging."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What is it?" I asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Just a little nip of cognac. They had that left, -poor devils. It's a wonder Canlan——" he -continued, and then stopped; doubtless I squirmed at -the name.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I took over the draught, and he sat down on the -fir-boughs and talked as gaily as ever man talked. -All the substance of his talk I have forgotten, only -I remember how he heartened me. It was my determination -to fight the fever and sickness, that we had -nothing in the way of medicines to cure, that he was -trying to awaken. And I must say he managed it -well.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With surprise I found myself sitting up and smoking -a cigarette while he sat back nursing a knee, laughing -on me and saying:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Smoking a cigarette! A sick man! Sitting up—and -inhaling, too—and blowing through the nose—a -sick man—why, the thing's absurd!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I looked and listened and smiled in return on -him, and some thought came to me of what manner -of man this was who ministered so kindly to me, -and also of how near death's door he himself had -been.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How are you?" I asked. "Where was it you -said you had been wounded? I fear I was so sick -and queer that I have forgotten everything but seeing -you again."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I?" he said. "Oh, I have just pulled myself -together by sheer will-power. I have a hole in my -side, filled up with resin. But that's a mere nothing. -It 'll hold till we get back to civilisation again, or else -be healed by then. Thank goodness for our late -friend's shaky hand." And at these words it struck -me, thinking, I suppose, how narrowly Apache had -missed death, that Canlan might be alive despite his -fall.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Apache read the thought before I spoke. He -nodded his head reassuringly, and said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We are safe from him. He will trouble us no -more. I have seen, to make sure."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I think I should be ashamed of myself," said I, -"for giving in like this."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nonsense," said he. "You were sick enough -last night, but you are all right now. Could you -eat a thin, crisp pancake?—I won't say flapjack. -A thin, crisp pancake?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I thought I could, and found that he had a few -ready against such a return to my normal. As I -ate, he meditated. I could see that, though he spoke -gaily enough, there was something on his mind. He -looked at me several times, and then at last: "Do -you think you could stand bad news?" he asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I looked up with inquiry.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's a fizzle, this!" he snapped; and then he -told me that sure enough the three original owners -of the mine had "struck something." But the ore, -according to Apache Kid's opinion of the samples -lying in the cabin, was of such a quality that it would -not repay anyone to work the place.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"O," he said, "if there was a smelter at the foot -of the mountains, I don't say it would n't repay to rig -up a bucket-tramway and plant; it's not so very -poor looking stuff; but to make a waggon road, or -even a pack-road, from here, say, to Kettle River Gap -or even to Baker City and use the ordinary road -there for the further transportation—no, it would n't -pay. We might hold this claim all our lives and the -country might never open up this way while we -lived; and what would we be the better for it all?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It mattered little to me. My soul was sick of it all.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course, that's the black side," he broke off. -"Again, this valley might be opened up—other -prospects put on the market—and down there in -that valley you 'd live to see the smoke of a smelter -smelting the ore of this little place of yours." He -paused again. "But I doubt it," he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So it's a fizzle?" I said half-heartedly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said he. "That is, practically a fizzle. As -the country is at present it does n't seem to me very -hopeful. But of course I am one of those who -believe in big profits and quick returns. It is -perhaps scarcely necessary for me to tell you of that -characteristic of mine, however, unless the -excitement of your recent experience has caused you to -forget the half-told story I was spinning to you when -friend Canlan interrupted us. Man, how it does -rain! And this," said he, looking up, "is only a -preamble. If I 'm not in error, we 're going to have a -fierce night to-night. The storm-king is marshalling -his forces. He does n't often do it here, but when he -does he does it with a vengeance. I think our best -plan is to get the holes in this roof tinkered. I see -the gaps round about have been blocked up recently. -Was it you did that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I told him that the tinkering was Canlan's doing, -to prevent an inroad of the rats, should we have slept -in the place.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thanks be unto Canlan," said he. "We 'll start -on the roof."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At this task I assisted, standing on the wabbly -stool and filling up the crevices.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was when thus employed that in a cranny near -the eaves I saw a piece of what looked like -gunnysacking protruding and catching hold of it it came -away in my hand and there was a great scattering to -the floor—of yellow raindrops, you might have -thought; but they fell with a dull sound. I looked -upon them lying there.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What's that?" I cried. But indeed I guessed -what these dirty yellow things were.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Apache Kid scooped up a handful and gave them -but one glance. He was excited, I could see; but -it was when he most felt excitement that this man -schooled himself the most.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Francis," said he, "there is, as many great men -have written, compensation in all things. I think -our journey will not be such a folly after all."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"These are gold nuggets?" said I. "Our fortunes -are——" and then I remembered that I had already -received my wages and that none of this was mine. -"Your fortune is made," said I, correcting myself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He smiled a queer little smile at my words.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," he said, "if this indicates anything, my -fortune is made in the only way I could ever make a -fortune."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indicates?" I said. "How do you mean?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pooh!" said he, turning the little, brass-looking -peas in his hand. "These would hardly be called a -fortune. Even a bagful of these such as you have -unearthed don't run to very much. There is more -of this sort of stuff in our cabin," said he.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I was a little mystified.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Search!" he said. "Search! That is enough -for the present. If our labours are rewarded, then I -will give you an outline of the manner and customs -of the Genus Prospector—a queer, interesting race."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We thought little now of filling up the holes in -that cabin. It was more a work of dismantling that -we began upon, I probing all around the eaves, -Apache Kid picking away with one of the miners' -picks, beginning systematically at one end of the -cabin and working along.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Here," I cried, "here is another," for I had come -upon just such another sack and quickly undid the -string.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, what is this?" said I. "What are these?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He took the bag and examined a handful of the -contents—the green and the blue stones.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This," said he, "is another sign of the customs of -these men. This was Jackson's little lot, I expect; -the man the Poorman boys picked up. Jackson was -a long time in the Gila country."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But what are they?" I said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, turquoises," replied Apache Kid.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Turquoises in America?" I said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said he, "and a good American turquoise -can easily match your Persian variety."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He went over and sat down upon his stool.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't like this," said he, disgustedly, and I -waited his meaning. "Fancy!" he cried, and then -paused and said: "Fancy? You don't need to -fancy! You see it here before you. When I say -fancy, what I mean is this: Can you put yourself, -by any effort of imagination, into the ego of a man -who has a fortune in either of his boot-soles, a fortune -in his belt, a fortune in the lining of his old overcoat, -and yet goes on hunting about in the mountain seeking -more wealth, grovelling about like a mole? Can -you get in touch with such a man? Can you -discover in your soul the possibility of going and doing -likewise? If you can, then you're not the man I -took you for."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They did n't get these turquoises here, then?" I -said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, no! I don't suppose that there is such a thing -as a turquoise in this whole territory. Don't you -see, we've struck these fellows' banking accounts? -Did you ever hear of a prospector putting his whole -funds in a bank? Never! He 'll trust the bank with -enough for a rainy day. The only thing that he 'll -do with his whole funds is to go in for some big -gamble, such as the Frisco Lottery that put -thousands of such old moles on their beam ends. In a -gamble he 'll stake his all, down to his pack-horse. -But he does n't like the idea of putting out his wealth -for quiet, circumspect, two-a-half per cent interest. -He 'd rather carry it in his boot-soles than do that -any day."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Up he got then, and really I must leave it to you -to decide how much was pose, how much was actual -in Apache Kid, when he said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I think we had better continue our search, however, -not so much for the further wealth we may find -as to satisfy curiosity. It would be interesting to -know just how much wealth these fellows would n't -trust the banks with. Let us continue this interesting -and instructive search."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For my part, I, who heard the ring in his voice -as he spoke, think he was really greatly excited, and -to talk thus calmly was just his way.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="re-enterthe-sheriff-of-baker-city"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXI</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><em class="bold italics medium">Re-enter—The Sheriff of Baker City</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><img class="dropcap inline" style="height: 6.00em" alt=""P" src="images/img-cap-21.jpg" /><span class="dropspan"></span><span>ardon the question," said Apache -Kid, looking on me across the hoard, -he sitting cross-legged upon one side, -I sprawled upon the other, "but do -you feel no slightest desire stealing in -upon you to possess this all for yourself?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I stared at him in astonishment, so serious he was.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It does not even enter your head to regret my -return from the dead?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Apache!" I exclaimed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He chuckled to himself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I fear," said he, "that you are of too refined a -nature for this hard world. I predict that before you -come to the age of thirty you will be aweary of its -cruelty—always understanding when I say world -that I mean the men in the world. I have to thank -you for not suggesting that that was the way in which -I used the word. It wearies me to have the obvious -always iterated in my ears. So you feel no -hankerings to see me dead?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I made no reply, and he chuckled again and then -looked upon our trove.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We made certain we had found it all—the first bag -of small nuggets of which I told you, the bag of -turquoises, two more bags of larger nuggets, and three -separate rolls of dollar and five-dollar bills. The bills -amounted to a hundred and fifty dollars—a mere -drop in the bucket, as Apache said. It was the two -bags of larger nuggets and the bag of turquoises that -were the real "trove," but Apache Kid would not -hazard a guess of their value. All that he would say -then, as he weighed them in his palm, was: "You -are safe, Francis—you need no more run with the -pack." I did not at the moment understand his use -of the word "pack," but his next words explained it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The only way," said he slowly, rolling a cigarette -with the last thin dust of tobacco that remained in -his pouch, so that he had to shake it over his hand -carefully, "the only way that I can see to prevent -that world-weariness coming over you is for you to -acquire a sufficiency to live upon, a sufficiency that -shall make it unnecessary for you to accept the laws -of the pack and rend and tear and practise cunning. -I think, considering such a temperament as yours, -I should call off with our old bargain and strike a -new one with you—half shares."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I heaved a deep sigh. I saw myself returning -home—and that right speedily—I saw already the -blue sea break in white foam on the ultimate rocks -of Ireland, the landing at Liverpool, the train journey -north, the clean streets of my own town through which -I hastened—home.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, these castles," said Apache Kid, after a -pause which I suppose was very brief, for such -thoughts move quickly in the mind. "They can all -be built now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then he leant forward; and he was truly serious -as he looked on me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But one thing you will do in return," he said, and -it was as the sign of an agony that I saw on his face. -"You will do that little bit of business for me that -I asked you once before?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He paused, hearkening; and I too was on the alert. -The squelching of a horse's hoofs was audible without.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Our pack-pony," said I; "it has come down for -shelter, I expect."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He rose and walked to the door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Chuck that stuff under your bed!" said he, -suddenly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I made haste, with agitated hands, to carry out the -order, and as I bent to my task I heard a voice that -seemed familiar say:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Apache Kid, I arrest you in the name of——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The remainder I lost, for Apache Kid's cheery -voice broke in:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, well, Sheriff—this is an unexpected -pleasure! Come in, sir; come in; though I fear we can -offer but slender——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All right," I heard the sheriff say. "Glad to see -you take it so well." And with a heavy tramp -entered the sheriff of Baker City, booted and spurred -and the rain running in a cascade from his hat, the -brim of which was turned down all around.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Donoghue," he said, "Larry Donoghue, I arrest -you in— Say! Where's Donoghue, and what are -you doin' here, you, sir?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This latter was of course to me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Donoghue you can never get now," said Apache -Kid. "He will be saved the trouble of putting up -a defence. But won't you bring in your men?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is that your hoss along there on the hill under -that big tree?" said the sheriff.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That," said Apache Kid, "was Canlan's horse, -I believe."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The sheriff hummed to himself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So," he said quietly, "just so. There ain't any -chance o' Canlan dropping in here, is there?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"None whatever," said Apache Kid, calmly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So," said the sheriff. "Well, I guess them pinto -broncs of ours can do very well under that tree. -That bronc of Canlan's seemed some lonesome. -Seemed kind o' chirped up to see others o' his -species. They 'll do very well there till we get dried -a bit."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He looked again at me and shook his head mournfully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You look kind of sick," he said, "but it's all right. -Don't worry. You 'll only be in as a witness."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Witness for what?" I asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Murder of Mr. Pinkerton, proprietor of the -Half-Way House to Camp Kettle."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Apache interrupted:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you happen to have such a thing as quinine -about you, Sheriff?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sure," said the sheriff: "always carry it in the -hills."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Give my friend a capsule," he said, "and defer -all this talk."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Murder of Mr. Pinkerton!" I cried; but just -then the sheriff stooped and lifted a slip of paper -from the floor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Literature!" he said. "Keepsake </span><em class="italics">pome</em><span> or what?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then I noticed his firm, kindly eyebrows lift. He -turned to Apache Kid.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This," he said, "seems to have fallen out your -press-cuttin' book. I see in a paper the other day -where they supply press-cuttin's to piano wallopers -and barn-stormers and what not. You should try -one o' them. I disremember the fee; but it was n't -nothing very deadly."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then I knew what the cutting was that had come -into his possession. It was the cutting Larry -Donoghue had shown me in his childish, ignorant pride, -the account of the "hold-up" by "the two-some -gang." I must have thrust it absently into my -pocket, hardly knowing what I was doing, when -Canlan's shot interrupted the unusual conversation -of that terrible camp.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The sheriff hummed over it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Kind o' lurid, this," he said; and at that comment -Apache Kid's face became radiant in a flash.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sir," he said, "I am charmed to know you. You -are a man of taste. I always object to the way these -things are recounted."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The sheriff rolled his bright eye on Apache, -misunderstanding his pleasure which, though it sounded -something exaggerated, was assuredly genuine enough.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I guess the way it's told don't alter the fact that -in the main it's true. It would mean a term of years, -you know."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For the first time in my knowledge of him Apache -Kid's face showed that he had been hit. He gave a -frown, and said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, that's the ugly side of it; that's the reality. -It must be an adventurous sort of life, the life -portrayed in that cutting. I fancy that it is the -adventuring, and not the money-getting, that lures anyone -into it, and a man who loves adventure would -naturally resent a prison cell."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The sheriff, with lowered head and blank eyes, -gazed from under his brows on Apache Kid.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I guess it's sheer laziness, sir," said he, "and the -man who likes that ways of living, and follows it up, -is liable to stretch hemp!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That would be better, I should fancy, than the -prison cell," said Apache Kid. "The fellows told -about there would prefer that, I should think."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The sheriff made no answer, but turned to the door -and bade his men unharness the pintos and come in.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You there, Slim," said he to one of the two; -"you take possession o' them firearms laying there. -But you can let the gentlemen have their belts."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Apache Kid was already kindling the fire. The -rain had taken off a little, and before sunset there -was light, a watery light on the wet wilderness. So -the hatch was flung off and supper was cooked for -all. The sheriff and these two men of his—one an -Indian tracker, the other ("Slim") a long-nosed -fellow with steely glints in his eyes and jaws working -on a quid of tobacco when they were not chewing -the flapjack—made themselves at home at once. -And it astounded me, after the first few words were -over, to find how the talk arose on all manner of -subjects,—horses, brands, trails, the relative uses and -value of rifles, bears and their moody, uncertain -habits, wildcats and their ways. Even the Paris -Exposition, somehow or other, was mentioned, I -remember, and the long-nosed, sheriff's man looked at -Apache Kid.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I think I seen you there," said he.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Likely enough," said Apache Kid, unconcernedly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What was you </span><em class="italics">blowing in</em><span> that trip?" asked the -long-nosed fellow, with what to me seemed distinctly -admiration in his manner.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Apache looked from him to the sheriff. They -seemed all to understand one another very well, and -a cynical and half-kindly smile went round. The -Indian, too, I noticed,—though he very probably -had only a hazy idea of the talk,—looked long and -frequently at Apache Kid, with something of the -gaze that a very intelligent dog bestows on a -venerated master, his intuition serving him where his -knowledge of English and of white men's affairs were -lacking.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They talked, also, about the ore that had gathered -us all together there, and Apache Kid showed the -sheriff a sample of it, and listened to his opinion, -which ratified his own.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On the sheriff handing back the sample to Apache -Kid the latter held it out to the assistant with the bow -and inclination that you see in drawing-rooms at -home when a photograph or some curio is being -examined.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a quiet courtesy among these men that -reminded me of what Apache Kid had said regarding -Carlyle's remark on the manners of the backwoods. -And it was very droll to note it: Apache in his shirt -and belt, and the long-nose—I never heard him -called but by his sobriquet of "Slim"—opposite -him, cross-legged, with his hat on the back of his -head and his chin in the palm of his hand, the elbow -in his lap, at the side of which stuck out the butt of -his Colt, the holster-flap hanging open.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I know nothing about mineral," said Slim, in his -drawl. "I 'm from the plains."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Apache Kid handed the ore over to the Indian, -who took it dumbly, and turned it over, but with -heedless eyes; and he presently laid it down beside -him, and then sat quiet again, looking on and -listening. Never a word he said except when, each time -he finished a cigarette and threw the end into the -fire, the sheriff with a glance would throw him his -pouch and cigarette papers. The dusky fingers would -roll the cigarette, the thin lips would gingerly wet it, -and then the pouch was handed back with the papers -sticking in it, the sheriff holding out a hand, without -looking, to receive it And on each of these -occasions—about a dozen in the course of an hour—the -Indian opened his lips and grunted, "Thank."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then the conversation dwindled, and the sheriff -voiced a desire "to see down that there hole myself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Indian had risen and gone out a little before -this, and just as the sheriff rose he appeared at the -door again, and looking in he remarked:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bad night come along down," and he pointed to -the sky.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh!" said the sheriff, "bad night?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Es, a bad mountain dis," said the Indian. "No -good come here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You would n't come here yourself, eh?" said the -sheriff, smiling, but you could see he was not the -man to ignore any word he heard. He was wont to -listen to everything and weigh all that he heard in -his mind, and take what he thought fit from what he -heard, like one winnowing a harvest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no!" said the Indian, emphatically. "I -think—a no good stop over here. Only a darn fool -white man. White man no care. A heap a bad -mountain," he ended solemnly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Devils?" inquired the sheriff. "Bad spirits, -may be?" and he looked as serious as though he -believed in all manner of evil spirits himself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Indian seemed almost bashful now.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"O! I dono devil," he said, and then after thinking -he decided to acknowledge his belief. "Ees," he -said, and he looked more shy than ever, "maybe bad -spirit you laugh. Bad mountain, all same, devil o' no -devil."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And what's like wrong with the mountain?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He go away some day."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mud-slide, eh?" asked Apache Kid.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Indian nodded,</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"O! Heap big mud-slide," he said. "You come a look."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We all trooped on his heels, and then he led us -to the gable of the shanty and pointed up to the -summit.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good preserve us," said Slim.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Alle same crack," said the Indian. "Too much -dry. Gumbo[#] all right; vely bad for stick when -rain come; he hold together in dry; keep wet long -time—all same chewing gum," he added with -brilliancy.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">[#] A sticky soil common in these parts.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"But this ain't like chewin' gum, heh?" said -the sheriff, following the drift of the Indian's pidgin -English.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nosiree," said the Indian, "no hold together, -come away plop, thick."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's a durned fine picture he's drawin'," said -Slim. "I can kind o' see it, though. 'Plop,' he -says. I can kind o' hear that plop."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Along the hill above us, sure enough, we could see -a long gash running a great part of the hill near the -summit, in the black frontage of it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," said the sheriff, "I should n't like to be -under a mud-slide. But you 'd think that them two -ribs here would hold the face o' this hill together, -would n't you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He looked up at the sky; sunset seemed a thought -quicker than usual, and there were great, heavy clouds -crawling up again, as last night, from behind the -mountains.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Apache Kid had said not a word so far, but now -he spoke.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I 've seen a few mud-slides in my time, Sheriff," -he said: "but this one would be a colossal affair. -Might I ask you a question before I offer advice?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sure," said the sheriff, wonderingly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is it only the charge of murdering Mr. Pinkerton -that you want me for, or would you try to make a -further name for your smartness by using that clew -you got about the two-some gang—not to put too -fine a point upon it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>You would have thought the sheriff had a real -liking for Apache Kid the way he looked at him then.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He took the cutting from his sleeve, and tore it up -and trampled it into the wet earth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I guess the hangin' will do you, without anything -else," said he; from which, of course, one could not -exactly gauge his inmost thoughts. But sheriffs study -that art. They learn to be ever genial, without ever -permitting the familiarity that breeds contempt—genial -and stern.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In that case," said Apache Kid, "I would suggest -leaving this cabin right away. I want to clear myself -of that charge; and if that crack widened during the -night, I might never be able to do that."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-mud-slide"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><em class="bold italics medium">The Mud-Slide</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><img class="dropcap inline" style="height: 6.00em" alt="F" src="images/img-cap-22.jpg" /><span class="dropspan"></span><span>rom our scrutiny of the mountain -above us the sheriff turned aside.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If we have to leave here, I reckon -I just have a look at that hole o' theirs -and see what like it is to my mind," -said he, "with all due respect to your judgment, sir," -(this to Apache Kid) "and out of a kind o' curiosity."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He bade the Indian go with him to tend the -windlass and Apache Kid and I returned to the cabin, -Slim following ostentatiously at our heels, and -remaining at the door watching the sheriff.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I plucked my friend by the sleeve. This was the -first opportunity we had had for private speech since -the sheriff's arrival.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Apache," I said, "what is the meaning of this -arrest? Is it the half-breed that came with Mr. Pinkerton -who has garbled the tale of his death for some -reason?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He shook his head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," said he, "not the half-breed. I 'll wager it is -some of Farrell's gang that are at the bottom of it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But they," I began, "they were all——" and I -stopped on the word.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Wiped out?" he said. "True; but you forget -Pete, the timid villain."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But he," I said, "he was away long before that -affair of poor Mr. Pinkerton."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, but doubtless the Indian made up on him, -and whether they talked or not Pete could draw his -conclusions. And a man like Pete, one of your -coyote order of bad men, would just sit down and -plot and plan——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But even then," I said, "they can't prove a thing -that never occurred; they can't prove that you did -what you never did."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He looked at me with lenient, sidewise eyes, not -turning his head, and then pursed his lips and gazed -before him again at the door, where Slim's long back -loomed against the storm-darkened sky.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All this," said he, "is guesswork, of course; for -the sheriff is reticent and so am I. But as for -</span><em class="italics">proving</em><span>, I dare say Pete could get a crony or two -together to swear they saw me. O! But let this -drop," he broke out. "If there's anything that -makes me sick now, it's building up fabrications. Let -us look on the bright side. Gather together your -belongings and thank Providence for sending us the -convoy of the sheriff to see us safely back to -civilisation with our loot."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You 're a brave man," I said. But he did not -seem to hear.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What vexes me," said he, "is to think that Miss -Pinkerton may have heard this yarn and placed -credence in it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The entrance of the sheriff, with a serious face, put -an end to the conversation then.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," said Apache Kid, "what do you think?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I think this is a derned peculiar mountain," said -the sheriff, "and I reckon you boys had better pack -your truck. That hole 's full."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Water?" said Apache Kid.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," said the sheriff: "full of mountain. You -can see the upward side of it jest sliding down bodily -in the hole, props and all. They must ha' had some -difeeculty in it, the way they had it wedged. You -noticed?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, it's just closed up now, plumb. Went together -with a suck, like this yere," and he imitated it -with his mouth. "Reckon we better get ready to -pull out, if needs be. What in thunder——" he -broke off.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Apache Kid, Slim, and the sheriff looked at each -other. You should have heard the sound. It was like -the sound of one tearing through a web of cloth—a -giant tearing a giants web and it of silk.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The horses!" the sheriff cried; but the Indian -had already gone. "How about yours, young feller?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I made for the door to follow the Indian and catch -the horses, out onto the hillside—and saw only half -the valley. The other half was hid behind the wall -of rain that bore down on us.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Indian was ahead of me, scudding along to -where the lone pine stood; but the terrified horses -saw us coming and ran to meet us, quivering and -sweating.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then the rain smote us and knocked the breath -clean out of me. I had heard of such onslaughts but -had hardly credited those who told of them. I might -have asked pardon then for my unbelief. I was sent -flying on the hillside and was like a cloth drawn -through water before I could get to my feet again. -The Indian was scarcely visible, nor his three horses. -I saw him prone one moment, and again I saw him -trying to hold them together as he—how shall I -describe it?—</span><em class="italics">lay</em><span> aslant upon the gale. I succeeded in -quieting my beast, and then turned and signed to -him that I would lead one of his beasts also, for when -I opened my mouth to speak, he being windward of -me, the gust of the gale blew clean into my lungs so -that I had to whirl about and with lowered head gasp -out the breath and steady myself. But he signed to -me to go, and nodded his head in reassurance; -though what he cried to me went past my ear in an -incomprehensible yell.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thus, staggering and swaying, we won back to the -rib beside the cabin, but this we could scarcely mount. -So the Indian, coming level with me, stretched his -hand and signed that he would hold my pack-horse -with his own. I saw the sheriff battling with the -gale and the dim forms of Apache Kid and Slim a -little ahead of him, Slim and Apache Kid weighted -greatly down. How we ever succeeded in getting the -saddles on the horses seemed a mystery. But the -beasts themselves were in a state of collapse with -terror. I dare say they would have stampeded had -there been any place to stampede to; but there was -no place. For a good five minutes you might have -thought we were hauling on saddles and drawing up -straps and cinches on the bed of a lake that had a -terrible undercurrent in it. Then the first onslaught -passed and we saw the hill clear for a moment, but -still lashed with hail, so that our hands were stiff and -numb. The sheriff and Apache Kid were floundering -back to the cabin, and it was then that the catastrophe -that the Indian had feared took place. Mercifully, -it was not so sudden as an avalanche of snow; for, at -the united yell of the three of us who cowered there -with the beasts, the sheriff and Apache Kid looked -up at the toppling mountain. Aye, toppling is the -word for it. The lower rim of the chasm I told you -of was falling over and spreading down the surface of -the hill. It was a slow enough progress to begin with, -and the two men seemed to waver and consider the -possibility of again reaching the cabin. Then they -saw what we beheld also—the whole face of the -mountain below the chasm sagged forward. It looked -as though there was a steadfast rib along the top; but -barely had they gained the rocky part where we stood, -than that apparent backbone collapsed upon the lower -part, and, I suppose with the shock of the impact on -the rest, completed the mischief. The sound of it -was scarce louder than the hiss of the rain, a -multitude of soft bubblings and squelchings. But if there -was with this fall no sound as when a rock falls, it was -none the less awful to behold.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We saw the mountain slide bodily forward, and the -one thought must have flashed into all our minds at -once, "If this rock on which we stand is not a rib of -the hill, but is simply imbedded in that mud mountain, -we are lost."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That of course could scarcely be, but nevertheless -we all turned and fled along the ridge, horses and -men, and, as we looked over our shoulders, there was -the farther spur of rock, which had attracted the three -prospectors, slipping forward and down, whelmed in -the slide. The rest was too sudden to describe -rightly. A great crashing of trees and a rumbling, -now of rocks, came up from the lower valley, and the -mountain absolutely subsided in the centre and went -slithering down. We posted along the face of the -hill here to the south, I think each of us expecting -any moment to feel the ground fail under him. But -at last we gained the hard, rocky summit of a ridge -that ran edgewise into that black mountain. There -we paused and looked back.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was now a dip in the ridge, where before had -been an eminence; and farther along, where a new -precipice had been made by this fall, we saw (where -the rain drove) huge pieces of earth loosen and fall, -one after the other, upon the blackness below. But -these droppings were just as the last shots after a -battle, and might keep on a long while, sometimes -greater, sometimes less, but never anything to -compare with the first fall.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But we could not remain there. A fresh bending -over of the tree-tops, like fishing-rods when the trout -runs, a fresh flurry of wind, and a sudden assault of -hail sent us from that storm-fronting height to seek -shelter below.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One would have thought that there could be no dry -inch of ground in all the world; the hills were -spouting foaming torrents, and in our flight, as we passed -the place up which Canlan and I had come, I saw the -watercourse no longer dry, but a turbulent rush of -waters.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was farther along the hill, so anxious were we to -pass beyond the possibility of any further crumbling, -that we made a descent. Our faces were bruised -with the hail and we were stiff with cold, when at last -we came to what you might call an islet in the storm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The hill itself, quite apart from its watercourses, -was all a-trickle and a-whisper with water, but here -was a little rise where the water went draining around -on either side, and in the centre of the rise a monster -fir-tree, the lowest branches about a dozen feet from -the ground which all around the tree was dust-dry, -so thick were the branches overhead.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Under this natural roof we sheltered; here we built -our fire, dried ourselves, and cooked and ate the meal -of which we stood so greatly in need; and after that -we sat and hearkened, with a subdued gladness and -a kind of peaceful excitement in our breasts, to the -voices of the storm—the trailing of the rain, the cry -of the wind, and the falling of trees.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So we spent the night, only an occasional raindrop -hissing in our little fire or blistering in the -dust. But by morning the itching of the ants had -us all early awake. It was in a pause in the -breakfast preparations that Slim remarked:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I guess anybody that wants that there ore -now will find it in bits strewed about the valley. It -won't need no crushing before it gets smelted."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said the sheriff, "there's abundance o' -'floats' lying in among that mud, but, now that I -think on it, that was the tail end they were on, -them three fellers. In the course o' time yonder -chunk was broken off and sagged away into yonder -wedge-like place of mud. I bet you the lead is right -in this hill to back of us. Suppose you was -prospectin' along through the woods up there now and -found any of them floats, why, you 'd go up to look -for the lead right there. It would n't astonish me -one little bit to find that with the mud sliding away -there it would jest be a case o' tunnelling straight in."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Apache Kid became so interested in this suggestion -that he wanted to go back there and then to -see what the storm and the mud-slide had laid bare, -but the sheriff broke in on him:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sorry, sir; I understand your curiosity, and I 'm -right curious myself; but I 'm sheriff first, and -interested in mineral after:" and then the hard, -callous side of the man peeped through, and yet with -that whimsical look on his chubby face: "But after -I 've seen you safely kickin' I don't know but what -I might come along and have a study of the lay of -the land now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," said Apache Kid, lightly, "to a man in -your position it would n't matter so much, though -the assay was nothing very great."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, sir; that's so," said the sheriff. "So you -see that it's advisable for a man to get a position -in life. Sheriff Carson of Baker City has expressed -in glowin' terms his faith in the near future of the -valley," he said, like a man reading.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Apache Kid laughed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I suppose Sheriff Carson's expression of faith -would soon enough get up a syndicate to work it!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I would n't just say no," said the sheriff.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was more of such banter passed, and -suggestions as to where the city—Carson City—would -be built; but when Apache Kid suggested the -stagecoach route the sheriff scoffed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Stage-route nothing!" he said. "Railroad you -mean, spur-line clear to Carson City."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The country is sure opening up and developing -to lick creation," said Slim; but at that the sheriff -frowned. He might banter with his prisoner, but -not with his subordinate.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So we saddled up again, the sheriff looking with -interest on the heavy gunny-bags that we stowed -carefully away again among the blankets on our -pack-horse, but making no comment on them. He -must have known pretty well what they contained.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Apache Kid's eyes and his met, and something -of the look I have already told you of, that came -at times, grew on Apache Kid's face, and a sort -of reply to it woke in the sheriff's. But, as I say, -no word passed on the matter then. Apache Kid -had taken care to bring our treasures from the -cabin before thinking of aught else.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That return journey with the sheriff, which had -been so suddenly proved impossible, was to bring -our firearms which the sheriff had appropriated on -his arrival and made Slim set in a corner. The -sheriff himself was not in a very happy mood, quite -snappy because of that foiled attempt. He had -thrown off his cartridge-belt in the cabin, and in the -flurry at the end had only been able to secure his -rifle in addition to his blankets. How many charges -were in its magazine I did not know. He had worn -his cartridge-belt apart from the belt to which his -revolver hung, and in the latter were no cartridge-holders.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Part of the sheriff's "shortness" when speaking -to Slim was due to the fact, I think, that Slim, intent -upon getting out the provisions, had come away -without a thought for any arms at all. But the -Indian had made up for Slim, for he had not -unbuckled his arsenal, and in addition to his revolver had, -on either side of his tanned and fringed coat, cartridge -pockets with four shells on either side. The loss of -our weapons (Apache's and mine) mattered little.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But this is all by the way, and was not so -carefully considered at the time as these remarks would -lead you to think. I mention it here at all simply -because of what happened later. We were not seers -or prophets to be able at the time to know all that -this shortage of ammunition was to mean.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Enough of that matter, then, and as for the -journey through the wilderness, which was by Canlan's -route now, at an acute angle from our former route, -I need not tire you with a description. It was just -the old story of plod, plod, plod over again; of trees -and open glades and silence, and at nightfall the -forest voices that you know of already.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After three days of this plodding we sighted a -soaring blue mountain ridge with snow in its high corries -and this as I guessed was Baker Ridge; but it took -us a good day's journey to come to its base, even -though the valley between was but scantily wooded. -It was on the afternoon of the fourth day that we -came to the eastern shoulder of Baker Ridge and lost -sight for a space of the valley behind ere we sighted -the one ahead, travelling as on a roof of the world -where were only scattered blackberry bushes and -rocks strewn like tombstones or tipped on end like -Druidical stones.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then the falling sides of the southern steep came -to view, bobbing up before us, and on the first plateau -of the descent the sheriff had some private talk with -Slim who presently, with a final nod to a final word of -instruction, set off with a sweep of his pony's tail and -loped away out of sight, going down sheer against -the sky over the plateau's verge.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When we, following more slowly, arrived at that -point he was nowhere visible, having evidently pushed -on speedily. Nor at the third level did we have any -sight of him, though now we caught a glimpse of the -first sign of civilisation—a feather of steam puffing -up away to left among the scrubby trees, indicating -the Bonanza mine; and a little beyond it another -plume of steam from the McNair mine. A little -below us there was a running stream and this being a -sheltered fold of the hill, I suppose, defended from -the east and north, there grew honeysuckle there and -the scent of it came to us most refreshingly. There -we sat down, apparently, from the sheriff's manner, -to await some turn of events.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-sheriff-changes-his-opinion"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXIII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><em class="bold italics medium">The Sheriff Changes His Opinion</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><img class="dropcap inline" style="height: 6.00em" alt="I" src="images/img-cap-23.jpg" /><span class="dropspan"></span><span>t was a good two hours after the -departure of Slim.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We sat in silence (while the ponies -browsed the tufts of grass) watching -the clouds of mosquitos hanging in -their phalanxes along the trickle of the stream and -the bright, gauzy, blue wings of two mosquito-hawks -flashing through their midst.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"By the way," said Apache Kid, "do you know if -Miss Pinkerton herself has heard of this accusation -against me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"By now, she is liable to have heard some rumour -of it, I reckon," said the sheriff; "but as to whether -she heard the news or not at the time of my starting -out after you, I dunno."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The implication was amusing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, yes, of course," said Apache Kid. "You act -so promptly, always, Sheriff."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Indian, who was sitting a little above us, -spoke: "Tree men," he said, "an' tree men and one -man come along up-hill beside the honeysuckle."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's seven," said Apache Kid.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Seven?" said the Sheriff, sharply, rising to his -feet; "and no waggon?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I reckon this is a deppitation," said the sheriff, -as he glared down-hill.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't like deputations of seven," said Apache -Kid, looking down to the honeysuckle. "We were -visited by one deputation of seven on this trip -already; eh, Francis?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ho?" said the sheriff. "You did n't tell me;" -but he was not looking at Apache. He was gazing -across the rolling land towards those who were -coming in our direction, now quite plain to see—seven -mounted men, armed, and suspicion-rousing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pity about them guns and shells being lost," said -the sheriff, and then he sung out:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Halt right there and talk. What you want?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One man moved his horse a step or two ahead of -the others, who had reined in.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We want that man you have there," said he.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Halt right there," said the sheriff again; and then -he remarked to Apache:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Reckon you 'd rather travel down to Baker City -with a reputable sheriff and have an orderly trial -before hangin' instead o' hangin' up here-aways without -no trial."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I 'd rather go down——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Halt right there!" roared the sheriff.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"—and prove myself innocent of the charge," -Apache ended.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, then," said the sheriff, "I reckon here's -where we become allies and you gets on the side o' -law and order for once. Take that," and he clapped -the butt of his Colt into Apache Kid's hand. "Draw -close, boys, till I palaver" and he rose from his rock -seat, with his Winchester lying on his arm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, gentlemen," he said. "I reckon you's all -aware that you are buttin' up ag'in law and order," -he began.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Law is gettin' kind of tender-hearted," replied -one of the newcomers. "We want to see justice done."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't seem to know your face," said the sheriff.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh! We 're mostly from outside your jurisdiction," -was the reply. "We jest came along up from -the Half-Way House to see that justice is done in -this yere matter."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't know 'em," said the sheriff to Apache Kid.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's not their fault," said Apache Kid. "I -know two of them by head-mark. A fat lot they -care for seeing justice done. It's revenge they want -on the loss of Farrell."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What about Farrell?" said the sheriff. "You -did n't tell me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He was one of the seven I mentioned," said -Apache Kid. "But where, might I ask, Sheriff, do -you intend to make your fire zone?" And he -nodded his head toward the seven who were walking -their horses a trifle nearer yet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said the sheriff, "they do creep up some. -Dern, if we could only pow-wow with 'em till Slim -gets back with the posse and the waggon."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This was the first hint of what business Slim had -been despatched upon, but that is by the way. The -sheriff apparently was not to be permitted a -"pow-wow" to kill the time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"See here," cried the spokesman of the party, -"jest you throw up your hands, the lot of you -or——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Or what?" said the sheriff.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Or we come and take him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, gentlemen," said the sheriff, "I 'm a -patient man. If it was n't for the responsible position -I holds, I would n't argue one little bit with you, but -you know I 'm elected kind o' more to save life than -to destroy it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Apache hummed in the air.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's just their objection," said he, softly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pshaw!" said the sheriff. "That was a right -poor cyard I played; but it's tabled now and can't -be lifted. Get back there! By Jimminy! if you -press any closer, we fire on you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a quick word among the seven men and -then they swooped on us. I tell you it was a sudden -business that. Down went the sheriff on his knee. -And next moment the now familiar smell of powder -was in my nostrils. Two of the seven fell and their -charge broke and they swept round us to left and -right.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Anybody hit here?" said the sheriff. "Nobody! -Guess they don't want to hit you, Apache Kid."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I 'm getting used to that treatment," said Apache -Kid. "It 's not the first time I 've pressed a trigger -on seven men who wanted my life—rather than my -death," he ended grimly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You got to tell me about that, later," said the -sheriff. "I gets interested in this seven business -more and more every time you refers to it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I hope to have the opportunity, at least," said -Apache, grimly, "to satisfy your curiosity."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Look up! Here they come again," the sheriff -interjected.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was another crackle to and fro, a quick -pattering of hoofs and flying of tails. One bullet -zipped on a granite block in front of me and spattered -the splinters in my face. The five wheeled and -gathered; one of the fallen men crawled away and -lay down in the shadow of a rock to look on at the -fight, with a sick face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They do look like as they were gatherin' again -systematic. Pity about that there mud-slide comin' -so sudden," remarked the sheriff again, as though -talking to himself more than to us; and then again -he cried: "Lookup!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Down came the five then, bent in their saddles, -their right hands in air, apparently determined to -make a supreme effort. They were going to try the -effect of a dash past, with dropping shots as they -came. But at a word from one they wheeled, rode -back a distance, and then, spinning round, rode back -as you have seen fellows preparing for a running start -in a race, wheeled, and then came down in a scatter -of dust, and a cry of "Yah! Yah!" to their horses.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Next moment they were past—four of them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If them four fellows come again," said the Indian, -"my name Dennis."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I wondered how Apache Kid could titter at this remark.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I thought perhaps that it was half excitement that -caused the laugh. It was not that exactly, however. -It was something else.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"As you remarked," said he to the sheriff, "it's a -pity about that mud-slide," and he swung his revolver -to and fro in a limp hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't drop that gun o' yours," said the sheriff in -anxiety. "Don't you give the show plumb away. -By Jimminy! they are meditatin' another. Say! -Guess I 'll palaver again some."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He leaped to his feet and waved the palm of his -hand toward the four and then set it to the side of -his mouth like a speaking-trumpet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I tell yous," he cried, "I 'm not a bloody man. -I'm ag'in blood. That's why I give you this last -reminder that you 're kickin' ag'in the law and I -advise you to take warnin' from what you got -already. If I was n't ag'in blood, I would n't talk -at all."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Apache Kid tittered again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You need n't just tell them it's your own blood -you are thinking of, Sheriff."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No!" said the sheriff, with a queer, flat look about -his face—I don't know how else to describe -it—"I 've said enough, I reckon. If I seem anxious to -spare 'em and warn 'em off some more, they might -be liable to tumble to it that we 've put up our last -fight, eh?" And he gave a grim, mirthless laugh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The four seemed uncertain. Then one of them -looked down-hill, the other three followed his gaze, -and away they flew above us and round in a circle, -not firing now, to where their wounded comrade lay -by the rock, and after capturing his horse, one of -them, alighting, helped him to the saddle. It is a -wonder to me that they did not surmise that our -ammunition was done, for they came close enough -to carry away the others who had fallen. But they -themselves did not fire again. They seemed in haste -to be gone, and with another glance round and shaking -their fists backwards as they rode, they departed -athwart the slope and broke into a jogging lope down -Baker shoulder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Apache Kid had moved away a trifle from the rest -of us as we watched this departure, and now he sat -grinning at the sheriff who was mopping his brow -and head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, Sheriff," he said. "I hope this convinces -you of my innocence."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What?" asked the sheriff, a little pucker at the eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Apache handed him back the revolver that he had -received at the beginning of the fight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That!" said he.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The sheriff looked at the chambers which Apache -Kid's finger indicated with dignified triumph.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Two shells that you did n't fire!" said the -sheriff. "What does that show?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That I had you held up if I had liked—you and -your Indian—and I passed the hand, so to speak. -My friend and I might leave you now if we so desired. -There are other ways through the mountains besides -following these gentlemen. We could do pretty well, -he and I, I think."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The sheriff smiled grimly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This here Winchester that's pointin' at your belly -has one shell in yet," said he. "It come into my -haid that maybe——" and he stopped and then in a -voice that seemed to belie a good deal of what I had -already taken to be his nature, a voice full of beseeching, -he said: "Say, Apache, I got to apologise to you -for keepin' up this yere shell. You 're a deep man, sir, -but I guess you are innocent, right enough, o' wipin' -out Pinkerton. Here comes Slim and the waggon."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Apache looked with admiration on the sheriff.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Diamond cut diamond," he said, and laughed; -and then said he: "And have I to apologise for -keeping my two shells?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, sir!" cried the sheriff. "You kept them to -show me you was square. I kept my last one -because I did n't trust you. I guess I do now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We begin to understand each other," said Apache.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't know about understand," said the sheriff. -"But I sure am getting a higher opinion of you than -I had before."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="for-fear-of-judge-lynch"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXIV</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><em class="bold italics medium">For Fear of Judge Lynch</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><img class="dropcap inline" style="height: 6.00em" alt="T" src="images/img-cap-24.jpg" /><span class="dropspan"></span><span>he long, dragging scream of wheels -came to our ears, putting an end to -this mutual admiration; and then -there came out of the cool of the -woods below, where the honeysuckle -showed, into the blaze of the hillside, with its -grey-blue granite blocks and their blue shadows, a large -Bain-waggon drawn by two horses.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On either side of it two men rode on dark horses. -The sheriff signed to the cortège to stop, and by the -time that we had descended to this party the waggon -was turned about.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," said the sheriff to Slim who was driving -the team, his horse hitched behind, "you got it from -him. Was he kind o' slow about lendin' it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nosiree," said Slim. "He was settin' on a -dump near the cable-house when I got to the mine, -settin' shying crusts o' punk at the chipmunks—they -'ve a pow'ful lot of them around the Molly -Magee—and he seemed kind o' astonished to see -me. 'Up to business?' he says, 'up to business? -You ain't goin' to take him away from me?' he says, -meanin', of course, the violinist——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Apache said to me at that: "Remind me to tell -you what he means—about the violinist."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So I jest tells him no," continued Slim, "and -asked him the loan o' one of his waggons, and he -says, 'What for?' And I takes him by the lapel o' -his coat an' says, 'Can you keep a secret?' and he -says then, 'Aha,' he says, 'I know what it is. You -got Apache Kid on the hill there and you want the -waggon to get him through the city for fear o' any of -the boys tryin' to get a shot at him.' Says I: 'Who -told you? Guess again.' And he says he -reckoned he would lend me the waggon, and right -pleased" (Slim shot a meaning look at Apache -Kid), "but as for keepin' quiet, that was beyond -him, he said."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dern!" said the sheriff. "So he 'll be telling -the Magee boys and havin' 'em comin' huntin' after -us, like enough, for our prisoner, if feelin' is high -about this."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Slim laid a finger to his nose. "Nosiree," said -he. "I jest told him if he could n't keep holt o' our -secret for three hours, and give us a start, that first -thing he knew we'd come along and be liftin' his -violinist, some fine day, along with a nice French -policeman or sheriff, or what they call 'em there—</span><em class="italics">grand -army</em><span> or something—all the way from Paris."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The sheriff gloated on this.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That would tighten him up some," said he.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It did," replied Slim, and would have continued -to pat himself on the back for his diplomacy, I believe, -but the sheriff turned abruptly to Apache Kid and -me and ordered us with a new sharpness, because of -the newcomers, I suppose, to get into the waggon; -and soon we were going briskly down-hill, the four -mounted men riding two by two on either side, the -sheriff loping along by the team's side and my pack-horse -trotting behind, with Slim's mount in charge of -the Indian.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We gathered from the remarks of the sheriff that -these four men had been camped down-hill a little -way for three days, out of sight of the waggon track, -awaiting our coming. Slim had evidently, after -securing the waggon, picked them up.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That violinist," said Apache Kid to me, "that -Slim mentioned to the Molly Magee boss by way of a -threat, is rather a notable figure here. He was leader -of an orchestra in Paris, embezzled money, bolted out -here and up at the Molly Magee gets his three and a -half dollars a day of miner's wages and keeps his -hands as soft as a child's. He could n't tap a drill on -the head two consecutive times to save his life."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What do they keep him for, then?" I asked. -"And why do they pay him?" though really I was -not much interested in violinists at the time and -wondered how Apache Kid could talk at all or do else -than long for getting well out of this grievous pass -that he was in. And, from his own lips, I knew he -thought his condition serious.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," said he, "the reason why gives you an -idea of how very stiff a miner's lot is in some places. -The Molly Magee mine is a wet mine, very wet, and -it lies in a sort of notch on the hill where the wind is -always cold. Crossing from the mine to the -bunkhouse men have been known to take a pain in the -back between the shoulder-blades, bend forward, and -remark on the acuteness of it and be dead in three -hours—of pneumonia. It's a wet mine and a cold -hill. This violinist is just a Godsend to the owners. -Instead of having to be content with whoever they -can get to work the mine for them they have the -pick of the miners of the territory; even most of the -</span><em class="italics">muckers</em><span> in the mine are really full-fledged miners, -but are yet content to take muckers' wages—and all -because of this violinist. He plays to them, you see, -and his fame has gone far and wide over the territory. -The Molly Magee, bad mine though she is, with a -store of coffins always kept there, never lacks for -miners. That's what they keep our violinist for."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But we were jolting well down-hill now and soon -caught glimpses of Baker City between the trees.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I reckon you better lie down in the bottom of -that there waggon," said the sheriff, looking round, -his left hand resting on his horse's quarters. "When -they see you it might rouse them."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sir!" said Apache (it was the first word he had -spoken, apart from his talk with me, since the guard -joined us), "I 'm innocent of this charge, and I want -to live to disprove it, not for my own honour alone. -For many reasons, for many reasons I want to disprove -it. But I 'm damned if I grovel in the bottom of a -waggon for any hobo in Baker City!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The sheriff said not a word in reply, just nodded -his head as though to say, "So be it, then," stayed his -horse till the waggon came abreast, leant from his -saddle and spoke a word to Slim, who suddenly emitted -a yell that caused the horses to leap forward.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The guard on either side had their Winchesters -with the butts on their right thighs—and so we went -flying into Baker City, the sheriff again spurring -ahead; so we whirled along, with a glimpse of the -Laughlin House, dashed down that street, suddenly -attracting the attention of those who stayed there, and -they, grasping the situation after a moment's hesitation, -came pounding down on the wooden sidewalks after us.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So we swept into Baker Street, where a great cry -got up, and men rose on the one-storey-up verandahs -of the hotels and craned out to look on us; and the -throng ran on the sidewalks on either side.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Apache Kid had a sneer beginning on his lips, but -that changed and his brows knitted as a man who, -on toting up a sum, finds the result other than he -expected. For those, who saw our arrival waved -their hats in air and cheered our passage; and it was -with a deal of wonder and astonishment that I saw the -look of admiration on the brown faces that showed -through the dust we raised. To me it looked as -though, had these men cared to combine to stop -our progress, it would not have been to hale Apache -Kid before Judge Lynch, but rather to have taken the -horses from the waggon, as you see students do with -the carriage of some man who is their momentary -hero, and drag us in triumph through the city.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The sheriff had expected to find the city enraged at -us, anxious to do "justice" in a summary fashion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This cheering must have puzzled him. It certainly -puzzled us.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-making-of-a-public-hero"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXV</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><em class="bold italics medium">The Making of a Public Hero</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><img class="dropcap inline" style="height: 6.00em" alt="A" src="images/img-cap-25.jpg" /><span class="dropspan"></span><span>n old, bowed greybeard, with an -expressionless, weather-beaten mask of -a face, closed the gate into the -"lock-up" after us as we swept into the -square. I remember the jar with -which that massive gate closed, but somehow it did -not affect me as I thought it should have done. -Perhaps the reason for this absence of awe was due to the -fact that the murmur of voices without, as of a -concourse gathering there, was not a belligerent murmur.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If Judge Lynch goes to work like this," said I to -myself, "he has a mighty cheerful way of carrying -out his justice on those who offend him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But I saw that the sheriff and Slim and the guard -also were somewhat "at sea," at a loss to account for -the manner of our reception. The sheriff flung off his -horse and marched into the gaol building, I suppose -to see that the entrance into the office was closed. -We remained still in the waggon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Slim chewed meditatively and spat in the sand of -the patio, or square—familiarity I suppose breeding -contempt—and to the old greybeard, who had -closed the gate on our entrance, and now stood by -the waggon clapping the quick-breathing horses, he -said: "Well, Colonel, you know how them turbulent -populace acts. You hev seen some turbulent -populaces in your time, Colonel. What does this yere -sound of levity pertend?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You mought think from the sound they was -electin' a new mayor, eh?" said the old man -addressed as colonel. "B'ain't a hangin', for sure," -and at these words I impulsively laid my hand on -Apache Kid's forearm and pressed it; but the colonel -at the same moment tapped Apache Kid on the small -of the back, and he turned round to find that worthy -holding up a leathery hand and saying, "Shake."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"With pleasure," said Apache Kid. "It is an -honour to me to shake hands with you, Colonel."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The old man seemed to enjoy being addressed in -this flattering fashion, which doubtless Apache Kid -knew; for after the hand-shaking, when the colonel -waddled away to the horses' heads to begin -unhitching, a task in which Slim promptly assisted -(I think more to ask questions, however, rather -than to share the work), Apache Kid remarked to me:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He 's a great character, that; he goes out -about town now with the chain-gang; you must -have seen him trotting behind them, with his head -bowed, squinting up at his flock from the corners -of his eyes, his rifle in hand. That's the job he gets -in the evening of his days; but if any man could -make your hair curl, as the expression is, that old -man could do it with his yarns about the days when -everything west of the Mississippi was the Great -American Desert. He seems to be congratulating -me on something. Whether he thinks I 'm one of -the baddest bad men he 's ever seen, or whether——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was then that the sheriff came slowly down the -three steps into the square.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You two gentlemen," said he, "might be good -enough to step this way. And say, Slim! That -there pack-horse is jest to be left standing, -meanwhile. I reckon the property on its back ain't come -under the inspection of the law yet—quite."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I could have cried out with joy; not for myself, -for the sheriff had led me to believe all the way that -I had got mixed up with this "trouble" on the less -objectionable side,—the right side. It was for -Apache Kid that my heart gladdened. Yet he, to -all appearance, was as little affected by this ray of -hope as he had been by the expectation of -"stretching hemp."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He swung his leg leisurely over on to the tire of -the wheel, stepped daintily on to the hub, and leaped -to the ground.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"At your service, Sheriff," said he, and I followed him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I noticed that the sheriff had again assumed his -ponderous frown, a frown that I was beginning to -consider a meaningless thing,—a sort of mere badge -of office. He led us into a white-painted room, where -a young lady habited plainly in black sat, with bent -and sidewise head. And we were no sooner into the -room, hats in hand, than the door closed behind us -and we heard the sheriff's ponderous tread depart -with great emphasis down an echoing corridor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The young lady, as you have surmised, was -Mr. Pinkerton's daughter; and there was a wan smile -of welcome on her saddened face as she looked -up to us.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We stood like shamed, heart-broken culprits -before her; and I know that my heart bled for her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was so changed from the last time I had seen -her. The innocent expression of her face, the openness -and lack of all pose, were still evident; but these -things served to make her lonely position the more -sad to think of. She was like a stricken deer; and -her great eyes looked upon us, craving, even before -she spoke her yearning, some word of her father.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell me," she said. "Charlie has told me—in -his way. Oh! It is a hard, bitter story, as it comes -from him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To my mind," said Apache Kid, in a soft voice, -"it is at once one of the saddest stories and one of -which the daughter cannot think without a greater -honouring of her father."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her hungering eyes looked squarely on him, but -she spoke not a word.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To me," he said, "his passing must be ever -remembered with very poignant grief; and to my -friend"—and he inclined his head to me—"it must -be the same."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I thought she was on the brink of tears and breaking -down, and so, I think, did he; for as I looked -away sad (and ashamed, in a way), he said: "God -knows how I feel this!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I think the interjection of this personal cry helped -her to be strong to hear She tossed the tears from -her eyes bravely, and he went on:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"When I think that he died through simple disinterested -kindness, and that that kindness, that was -his undoing, was done for me—and my friends," he -said in a lower tone, "then, though it makes me but -the more sorrowful, I feel that"—he spoke the rest -more quickly—"he died a death such as any man -might wish to die. It was a noble death, and he was -the finest man——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh!" she cried, "but I—I—it was I who bade -him follow you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Apache Kid's eyes were staring on the floor; and -in the agony of my heart, whether well or ill advised -I do not know, I said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your name was the last on his lips."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her face craved all that could be told; and I told -her all now, she growing calmer, with bitten lips, as -I, feeling for her grief, found the more pain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then Apache Kid spoke, and I found a tone in his -voice,—I, who had come to know him, being cast -beside him in the mountain solitudes,—that made -me think he spoke what he did, not because he really -did believe it, but because he thought it fit to say.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It may seem strange," said he, "to hear it from -my lips, as though I desired to lighten my own -regret, but I think our days are all ordained for us; -and when those we love have been ordained to -unselfishness, and to gain the crown of unselfishness, -which is ever a crown of thorns, we can be but -thankful—though at the moment we dare not say this to -ourselves."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He looked dumbly at me, pleadingly, I thought. I -had an idea that his eyes besought something of -me—but I knew not what; and then he turned to her -and took her hand ever so fearfully, and said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You will remember that we have a charge from -him, as my friend has told you; and indeed, it was -not necessary that the charge should have been laid -on us." He dropped her hand, and looking at me, -said: "I believe we both would have considered it a -privilege to in some slight way——" he seemed to -feel that he was upon the wrong track, and she said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh! That is nothing. Now that I have heard it -all from you it is' not—not so cruel as Charlie's -account. I think I must go now, and I have to thank -you for being so truthful with me and telling me it all -so plainly."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She turned her face aside again and we perceived -that she would be alone. So we passed from the -room very quietly and saw the sheriff at the end of -the corridor beckoning us, and went toward him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She hes told you, I guess," said he, "that the -case is off."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Apache shook his head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pshaw!" said the sheriff. "What she want with you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To hear how Mr. Pinkerton died."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But she knew."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said Apache Kid, "as a savage saw it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The sheriff puckered his heavy mouth and raised -his eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sure!" said he. "That's what. Pretty coarse, -I guess. You would kind o' put the limelight on -the scene."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sir, sir!" said Apache Kid. "We have just -come from her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I beg your pardon, gen'lemen," he said. "I -understand what you mean; I know—women and -music, and especially them songs about Mother, and -the old farm, and such, jest makes me </span><em class="italics">feel</em><span> too, at -times. I understand, boys, and I don't mock you -none. And that jest makes me think it might be -sort of kind in you if you was goin' out and gettin' -them cheerin' boys out there some ways off, lest she -hears them cheerin' an' it kind o' jars on her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then I am free?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yap; that's what," said the sheriff. "She rode -up here with that Indian trailer feller when the news -spread. The colonel tells me that it was a fellow, -Pious Pete, hetched the story out. It was two -strangers to me came to inform me about the killing -of Pinkerton—said they saw you do it from out a -bush where they was camped, and would have gone -for you but they had gone busted on cartridges and -you was heeled heavy. They put up a good enough -story about them bein' comin' back from a prospectin' -trip, and had it all down fine. So I jest started -right off."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But how did you know what way to come for -us?" asked Apache Kid.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, well, you see, I had been keepin' track of -Canlan. I hed lost sight o' you, and when I heard -you was in the hills away over there, and also knew -how Canlan had gone out over Baker shoulder, I -began to guess where The Lost Cabin lay. It was -handier like for me to start trackin' Canlan than to -go away down to Kettle with them fellows and into -the mountains there, and try to get on to your trail -where they said you had buried Mr. P."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Apache Kid nodded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So I left them two here to eat at the expense o' -the territory till my return. It was the colonel got -onto them fust—recognised 'em for old friends of a -right celebrated danger to civilisation which his name -was Farrell."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah!" said Apache Kid.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So I hear now, when I comes back, anyway," -said the sheriff. "Then along comes Miss Pinkerton, -and when they see her on the scene, well, why they -reckon on feedin' off this yere territory no more. -The colonel is some annoyed that they did n't wait -on and try to hold up their story. I reckon they -either had not figured on Miss P., or else had -surmised she 'd not raise her voice ag'in' your decoratin' -a rope. But I keep you from distractin' them boys -out there and they starts cheerin' ag'in. After you 've -kind o' distributed them come back and see me. I 'm -kind o' stuck on you, Apache. I guess you 'll make -a good enough citizen yet—maybe you might be in -the running yet for sheriff o' Carson City within the -next few years."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But a renewed outbreak of the cheering brought a -frown to Apache Kid's face and sent him to the door -speedily, with me at his heels.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The sheriff opened the door and out stepped -Apache Kid. The first breath of a shout from the -crowd there he stopped in the middle. What his -face spoke I do not know, being behind him; but his -right thumb pointed over his shoulder, his left hand -was at his lips, I think,—and the cry stopped.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Gentlemen," he said, and broke the cry that -threatened again to rise with a raised hand; "the -lady within"—he got to the core of his remark -first—"has her own sorrow. We must think of her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>You could hear the gruff "That's what," and -"That's no lie," and "That's talking," and see heads -nodded to neighbour's heads in the crowd.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the question was how to get away? Apache -Kid stepped down to the street level and then, -before we knew what was come to us we were -clutched by willing hands and, shoulder high, headed -a silent procession tramping in the dust out of -ear-shot of the jail—that the woman within might not -feel her sorrow more bitter and lonely hearing the -cheers that were given to the men who had "wiped -out the Farrell gang."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So much the populace knew had happened. That -much had leaked out, and the least that was expected -of Apache Kid was that he would get out on some -hotel verandah and allow himself to be gazed upon -and cheered and make himself for a night an excuse -for "celebration" and perhaps, also, in the speech -that he must needs make, give some slight outline -of how Farrell </span><em class="italics">got it</em><span>—to use (as Apache Kid would -say) the phraseology of the country.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="apache-kid-makes-a-speech"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXVI</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><em class="bold italics medium">Apache Kid Makes a Speech</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><img class="dropcap inline" style="height: 6.00em" alt="T" src="images/img-cap-26.jpg" /><span class="dropspan"></span><span>here was a good deal of the spirit -of Coriolanus in Apache Kid, and he -knew the worth of all this laudation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When we at last found ourselves -jostled up onto the balcony of that -saloon which I spoke of once as one of the "toughest" -houses in Baker City, that very saloon at the door -of which I had beheld the sheriff of Baker City give -an example of his "smartness," the throng was -jostling in the street and crying out:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What's the matter with Apache Kid?—He's all right!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Both question and answer in this cry were voiced -always in one, not one man crying out the question -and another replying, and it made the cry seem very -droll to me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Apache Kid was thrust to the front and the -crowd huzzahed again and shouted: "Speech!" And -others cried out: "Tell us about Farrell's -gang."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So Apache Kid stepped to the rail and raised his -head, and, "Gentlemen," he began, "this is a great -honour to me;" and they all cried out again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If it is not," said he, "it should be."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I think the majority took this for humour and they -laughed and wagged their heads and looked up -smiling, for more.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"When I think of how so shortly ago I merited -your disapproval and now, instead of gaining that, -am welcomed so heartily and effusively, I cannot but -feel how deeply I am indebted to all the citizens—" -he paused and I heard him laugh in his throat, "of -our progressive and progressing city."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They gave vent to a bellow of pleasure and some -cried out again: "Farrell! Farrell! Tell us about -Farrell."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I must appeal to the sense of propriety," he said, -"for which our western country is famous. In the -West we are all gentlemen."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a cry of: "That's what!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And a gentleman never forces anyone to take -liquor when he does not want to, never forces anyone -to disclose his history when he does not want to. -The gentleman says to himself, in the first instance, -'there is all the more for myself.' In the second -case he knows that his own past might scarcely bear -scrutiny. Ah well! As we are all gentlemen here -I know that with perfect reliance in you I can say -that I had rather not speak about Farrell and his gang."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a slight murmur at this.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There are men of the gang still in the territory. -As you are now aware, it was they who came to you -with a cock-and-bull story about me. In your -desire to further law and order in this progressive -Baker City you rightly decided that I must pay the -penalty for the deed you believed that I had done."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He paused a moment and then continued in -another tone:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now there is nothing I regret more than the sad -death of Mr. Pinkerton. He was a man we all -honoured and respected. I am glad you do not now -believe that I was his slayer. With those who raised -that calumny against me—should I meet them—I -will deal as seems fit to me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A great cheer followed this.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Apache Kid cleared his throat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Men of Baker City!" he cried, "I wish, finally, -to thank you for this so exuberant expression of your -regret that you believed me guilty."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They took this better than I expected. A cheer -in which you heard an undercurrent of rich laughter -filled the street and drowned his last words:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I bear you no ill will."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He bowed, backed from the balcony-rail into the -saloon, touched me on the arm where I stood by the -door, and before those who had followed us in well -knew what we were about, we had run through the -sitting-room that gave out on that balcony, gained -the rear of the house, and were posting back to the -jail by the rear street.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But there, relieved at last of the anxiety that had -held me together all the way from the Lost Cabin -Mine, knowing now that my friend was safe, all the -vigour seemed to leave me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>My memory harked back to the nights in the -forests on the hillsides, to the attack upon us on the -shoulder of Baker Ridge, to the mud-slide, to the -night of Canlan's madness, and the previous night of -his onslaught on our camp. Larry Donoghue loomed -in my mind's eye, large-framed, loose-limbed, -heavy-mouthed. Again I saw the summit over which we -passed, the Doréesque ravines and piled rocks, the -forest trail, the valley where Mr. Pinkerton lay, on -the cliff of which I had faced the terrors of the snake. -I saw the Indians trooping at the ford, the dead men -lying in the wood at Camp Kettle, the red-headed -man in the Rest House, the loathsome "drummer" -at the Half-Way House,—and all the while the -sheriff's voice was in my ears and sometimes -Apache's replying.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>My brain was in a whirl, and I heard the sheriff say:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That boy is sick looking."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He said it in a kind, reassuring voice, and I knew -that I was in the home of friends, and need no longer -keep alert and watchful and fearful. My chin went -down upon my breast.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I had a faint recollection of fiery spirits being -poured down my throat, and then of being caught by -the arm-pits and lifted and held for awhile, and of -voices whispering and consulting around me. Then -I felt the air in my face, and came round sufficiently -to know I was in the street, and the dim ovals of -faces turned on me, following me as I was hurried -forward at what seemed a terrible speed, and -then I opened my eyes to find myself in a room with -the blind down at the open window.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was night time, for the room was in darkness, -and I lay looking at a thin cut in the yellow blind, a -cut of about three inches long, through which the -moonlight filtered; and as I looked at it I saw it -begin to move with a wriggling motion, and even as -I looked on it it stretched upward and downward -from either end. At the top ran out suddenly two -horizontal cuts, the lower end split in two, and ran -out left and right, and then it all turned into the form -of a man like a jumping-jack, with twitching legs and -waving arms. A head grew out of it next, and rolled -from side to side; it was the figure of Mike Canlan. -I turned my head on the pillow and groaned.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Heavens!" I cried, "I am haunted yet by this."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And then a great number of voices began whispering -in a corner of the chamber. I cried out in terror, -and then the door opened and a woman entered, -carrying a candle, shaded with one hand, the light of it -striking upon her freckled face and yellow hair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was Mrs. Laughlin, and she sat down by me and -took my hand, feeling my pulse, and ran her rough -palm across my brow. She may have been a -belligerent woman, and had many "tiffs" with her -husband, but I cannot tell you how soothing was her -rough touch to me then,—rough, but extremely kind.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The whisperings kept on, but very faint now,—fainter -and fainter in my ears like far echoes, and, -holding her bony hand, I fell asleep.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The fever of the mountains, the weariness of the -way, the fear of pursuit, the smell of powder, and the -sight of dead men's eyes,—all these I had braced -myself against. But now I steeled myself no longer. -Now I rested, I, who had feared much and yet been -strong (which I have heard persons say is the greatest -form of bravery,—the coward's bravery), I rested -fearless, clinging to this worn woman's hand.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-beginning-of-the-end"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXVII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><em class="bold italics medium">The Beginning of the End</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><img class="dropcap inline" style="height: 6.00em" alt="I" src="images/img-cap-27.jpg" /><span class="dropspan"></span><span> feel somehow that I have to apologise -for "giving in" that way. I should -have liked to figure before you like -a cast-iron hero. But when I set out -to tell you this story I made up my -mind to tell the truth about all those concerned in -it—myself included.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I could not understand how Apache Kid kept so -fresh through it all. But, of course, you remember -what he told me of his life, and he was, as the saying -is, "hard as nails." Yet he avoided commiserating -me on my condition, being a man quick enough to -understand that I resented this break-down. He -even went the length of telling me, as he sat in my -room, that he felt "mighty rocky after that trip," -himself. And when the doctor pronounced that I might -get up, he told me that I was getting off very easily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On two points I had to question Apache Kid and -his answers to my questions gave me a further insight -into his character. The first of these matters was -regarding the wealth we had brought with us from the -Lost Cabin Mine.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have done nothing about it yet," said he. "I -thought it advisable for us to go together to the bank."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I looked my surprise, I suppose.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then you have no idea what it amounts to yet?" -I asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," said he. "You know it will neither increase -nor diminish with waiting."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But why did you wait?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"O," he said lightly, "if a man cannot wait for his -partner getting well, and do the thing ship-shape, -he must be very impatient."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You don't seem anxious, even, to know what you -are really worth."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I fear not," said he. "O, man, can't you see -that once we know, to a five-cent piece, what all that -loot is worth, we are through with the adventure and -there's no more fun to be had? I'm never happy -when I get a thing. It's in the hunting that I find -relief."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But there fell a shadow on his face then.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I asked him if Miss Pinkerton was still in Baker -City. I declare, he blushed at the very mention of -her name. I could see the red tinge the brown of -his cheeks.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I often wondered, when Apache Kid spoke, just -what he was really thinking. He did not always say -what he thought, or believe what he said. He had a -way, too, of giving turns to his phrases that might -have given him a name for a hardness that was not -really his.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"O," he said, "she heard that you were ill and -wanted to come and look after you, but you were -babbling not just of green fields, exactly—you were -babbling of Hell—and I can never get over a foolish -idea that early in youth was pumped into me that -women do not know about Hell and should not know. -I thought it advisable to prevent her coming to see -you—and hear you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I felt my own cheeks tingle to think that I had -been raving such ravings as he hinted at.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And did Mrs. Laughlin——" I began.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Mrs. Laughlin herself replied, coming quietly -into the room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, yes," she said, and laughed. "Mrs. Laughlin -heerd it all," and then she turned on Apache Kid. -"And Mrs. Laughlin was none the worse o' hearing -it, Apache Kid," she said, "not because she 's old, -but because in gettin' up in years she 's learnt how to -weigh things and know the good from the bad, even -though the good does look bad. Oh! I know what -you are thinking right now," she interrupted herself. -"You 're thinkin' you might remark I don't have no -call to talk 'cause I heerd you talkin' just now without -you knowin'——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Madam——" began Apache Kid, in a courteous -voice, but she would not permit him to speak.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I was coming along in my stocking soles, in case -the lad was sleeping," and she plucked up her dress -to disclose her stockinged feet, "and I heerd by -accident what you was talkin'. And I 'm going to tell -you, Mr. Apache Kid, that you 're a deal better a -man than you pretend."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was, to me, an unlooked-for comment, for her -manner was almost belligerent.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You had it pumped into you, you says! O! -An old woman like me understands men well. It's -you sarcastic fellows, you would-be sarcastic fellows, -that have the kind, good hearts. And you talk that -way to kind of protect them."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I saw Apache Kid knitting his brows; but, as for -me, I do not know enough of human nature to -profess to understand all that this wise woman spoke.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Take you care, Apache Kid," she said, and shook -her finger at him, and even on her finger, as I noticed, -there were freckles, and on the back of her hand. -"Take you care that you don't get to delude -yourself into hardness, same as you delude men -into thinking you a dangerous sort o' fellow—a -kind of enigma man."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am afraid I don't follow you," said Apache Kid.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But you do follow me," she said. "All you -want to do is to let yourself go—let that bit of -yourself go and have its way—that bit that you -always make the other half of you sit and jeer at!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She paused, and then shaking her finger again -remarked solemnly:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Or you 'll maybe find that the good, likeable -half o' you ain't a half no longer, only a quarter, -dwindled down to a quarter, and the half of you -that puts up this bluff in the face of men becomes -three-quarter then. I 'm thinking I would n't like -you so good then, Apache Kid! Not but what I 'd -be——" she hesitated, "sorry for you like," she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To win your sorrow, Mrs. Laughlin," said he, -looking on her solemnly, "would be a desirable thing."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She gazed at him a long while, and to my utter -astonishment, for I did not quite understand all this, -there were tears in her eyes when she said, as to -herself, "Yes, you mean that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She sighed, and then said she: "What you need -is to settle down with a good, square, honest girl. -If I was younger like myself——" she broke off -merrily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Apache Kid looked her in the face with interested eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wish I knew just what you were like, just how -you spoke and acted when you were—in the -position you have suggested as desirable."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Would you have had me?" she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I would perhaps have failed to know you -possessed all these qualities you do, for you would -never have shown them to me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Would I not?" said she. "Well, I show myself -now; and if you object to young girls not showing -their real selves, you begin and set 'em the -example. You go down to the Half-Way House -and show that Miss Pinkerton your real self, -and——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mrs. Laughlin!" he said. "I would not have -expected this——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why!" she cried, "I'm old enough to be your -grandmother. Well, well! I see the lad is all right; -that's what I came up for, so I 'll get away down -again."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Laughlin has certainly a jewel of a wife," said -Apache Kid, after she departed, and that was all -on the matter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Miss Pinkerton herself was not mentioned again -by either of us, and the other subject of our talk -we settled two days later, when I, having "got to -my legs" again on the day following that chat, -accompanied Apache Kid to the jail where the -sheriff unlocked the safe for us and gave us our -property, which he had in keeping.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The horse, I heard then, had been returned to the -livery stable from which Canlan had hired it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>All that the sheriff had to say on the matter of -our property was to the effect that though two of the -Lost Cabin owners had been often enough known -to say that they had no living relative, the -other—Jackson—was supposed to have a sister living.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If you want to do the square thing," said he, -"you ought to advertise for her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Apache turned to me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I forgot that," said he; "I forgot to tell you," -and he drew a newspaper from his pocket. "Don't -you get the 'Tribune,' Sheriff!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He opened the paper and pointed to his announcement -for relatives of J. E. Jackson.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have put it in this local rag," said he, "and -a similar one in a dozen leading papers over the -States, and in three of the smaller papers in his -own State. I heard he was an Ohio man."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The sheriff held out his hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I once reckoned," said he, "that we 'd be ornamenting -a telegraph pole in Baker City with you, but now I -reckon we will see you sheriff of Carson City, sure."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Apache Kid took the proffered hand and shook -it; but he showed me deeper into himself again when -he said in a dry voice:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't think, Sheriff, that there will be any real -need for you to congratulate me any oftener than -you have done already, on finding out further -mistakes you have made in your attempts to discover -my real character."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And so saying we went out; and as I shook the -sheriff's hand I noticed that he took mine absently. -I think he was pondering what my friend had said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"One grows weary of patronage," said Apache -Kid to me as we plodded along the deserted streets -to the bank.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Deserted streets?" you say. Yes, deserted. For -an "excitement" had sprung up at Tremont during -my ten days in bed. As we passed the hotels on -our way to the bank, the hotels that had always -been thronged and full of voices, the doors always -on the swing, we saw now on the verandah of each -of them one solitary man, with chair tilted back and -feet in the rail. These were the worthy proprietors, -each figuring on the chances of Baker City booming -again, each wondering if he should follow the rush.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As we passed the corner of the street in which -"Blaine's joint" had stood, I noticed above the door -and window a strip of wood less sun-scorched than -the rest. That was where the famous canvas sign -had been, rolled up now and carted off with the -coffee-urn to this other "city" that had depopulated Baker -City. The stores, of course, were still open; for the -city which is centre for five paying mines can never -die. It may not always </span><em class="italics">boom</em><span>, with megaphones in -every window and cigar smoke curling in the streets, -but it will not </span><em class="italics">languish</em><span>.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Still, it was not the Baker City that I knew of yore, -and as we entered the door of the bank, carrying our -bullion, it struck me that the stage-setting was just in -keeping with the part we played; for as Apache Kid -had said—when we knew our wealth the adventure -would be over. This was the last Act, Scene I. And -I felt a quiver in my heart when the thought intruded -itself, even then, that Scene II (and last) would be a -farewell to Apache Kid.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Slowly the teller in the bank weighed out our -nuggets, scanning us between each weighing over his -gold-rimmed glasses and noting down the amounts -on his writing pad.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Grand total," said he, and paused to awaken the -thrill of suspense, "forty thousand dollars."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Forty thousand dollars," thought I, "and fifteen -hundred in notes, that makes forty-one thousand five -hundred."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A mere flea-bite," Apache said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I beg your pardon?" said the teller, astonished.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A mere flea-bite," repeated Apache Kid. "Look -at that," and he held up a turquoise in his fingers. -"Don't you think a man would give forty-one -thousand five hundred for a bagful of these?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A bagful?" said the teller.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Apache nodded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you wish to dispose of some of these, too?" -the teller asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, thanks," said Apache Kid. "They go to an -eastern market."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"An eastern market!" Did that mean that Apache -Kid was going east? Was I to have his company -home? Home I myself was going. But he—as I -looked at his brown face, the alert eyes puckered at -the side with long life in the sunshine, the lips close -with much daring (and I think just a little hard), the -jaws firm with much endurance, and that self-possessed -bearing that one never sees in the civilised East, I knew -he was not going back East.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The tiny gold ear-rings might be removed, but the -stamp of the man could not; and men of that stamp -are not seen in cities.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="apache-kid-behaves-strangely-at-the-half-way-house-to-kettle"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXVIII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><em class="bold italics medium">Apache Kid Behaves Strangely at the Half-Way -<br />House to Kettle</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><img class="dropcap inline" style="height: 6.00em" alt="Y" src="images/img-cap-28.jpg" /><span class="dropspan"></span><span>ou hear people talk of the </span><em class="italics">Autumn -feeling in the air</em><span>. Well, the Autumn -feeling was in the air as we drove -down through the rolling foothills to -the Half-Way House.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>My farewell to Mr. and Mrs. Laughlin had touched -me deeply. It was only a word or two and a handshake, -for when it comes to parting in the West, there -is never any effusion—partings there are so frequent -that people spare themselves the pain of them and -make them brief. But nevertheless, they sting.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was sunlight, to be sure, all the way; but -that Autumn feeling was there. The sound of the -wheels fell dead on the air, and we were all moody -and quiet. I got it into my head that I was soon to -say farewell to Apache Kid, and that forever. He was -exceedingly thoughtful and silent, and I wondered if -he was meditating on the suggestion of Mrs. Laughlin -regarding the advisability of his settling down, asking -Miss Pinkerton for her hand, and becoming a -respectable person.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Before we came in sight of the Half-Way House we -heard the dull rasp of a saw, and then, topping the -second last roll of the sandy hills and swinging round -the base of the last one, we went rocketing up to the -hotel. A man at the wood trestle, which stood at the -gable-end, straightened himself and looked up at our -approach, and I saw that he was the red-headed man -who had "held up" Apache Kid at the Rest House -on our last journey.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Apache Kid's face went a trifle more thoughtful at -sight of him, but just then Miss Pinkerton appeared -at the door to welcome us. But when we alighted I -detected something new in her manner toward us. -What it was I cannot exactly tell. Certainly she was -just as demure, as open-eyed, as natural as before. -But she did not seem to require our presence now for -all that she welcomed us in a friendly way. There -was that in her manner that made me think she would -bid us farewell just as innocently and pleasantly, and -straightway forget about us. Her welcome seemed -a duty.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"These are the two gentlemen I told you about, -George," she said to the red-headed man. "Mr. Brooks," -she introduced, "but I don't know your -names, gentlemen, beyond just Apache Kid and Francis."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>George nodded to us.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I guess these names will serve," said he. "How -do, gentlemen? Kind of close this eve."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is, indeed," said Apache Kid. "The Summer -is ended, the harvest is past," he quoted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said George, "there is that feeling in the -air, now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"As if the end of all things was at hand," said -Apache Kid.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was looking George right in the eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I thought something forbidding was in their -exchange of glances, but then of course I had seen -them meet before in the peculiar circumstances of -which you know. Margaret, I think, saw nothing -noteworthy (for all she was a woman), but then, she -did not know that these men were acquainted; they -gave no sign of that.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You will want a wash before you eat," she said, -ushering us in, and George nodded, and, "See you -later," said he.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Margaret attended to our wants herself when we -sat down to table in the fresh dining-room. But -there was little said until the meal was over, and she -sat down beside us. Apache Kid seemed to be -thinking hard.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, Miss Pinkerton," he said at last, making -bread pills on the table and smoothing a few crumbs -about in little mountain ridges and then levelling -them again. "You remember what we told you -about Mr. Pinkerton's last wishes for you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," she said, "I was telling George what pop -had said."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Apache's eyebrows frowned a trifle, and then -settled again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes?" he said, as though requesting an explanation -of what she meant by this; but she remained -silent.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"O, I thought perhaps the gentleman had made -some suggestion, when you mentioned his name just -now," said Apache Kid.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But she did not yet reply, and he went on again:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, Miss Pinkerton, I may tell you that we -failed to find any such bonanza at the Lost Cabin -as we had hoped for."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Margaret Pinkerton stiffened, and I glanced up to -see her looking on Apache's face with pin-points of -eyes and a look on her face as though she said: -"So—you are a contemptible fellow, after all."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I think she had really admired Apache Kid before, -but I surmised—a third party, the one who looks on -and does not talk, can surmise a great deal—that, as -the saying is, she had been </span><em class="italics">tampered with</em><span>. She had -heard tales against my friend, and now doubtless -believed that she was provided with proof that he was -a rogue. The look on her face was as though she -were gaining confirmation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Excuse me interrupting," said George, in the -doorway, "but I suppose you have speciments o' this -ore."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I expected Apache Kid either to ignore the -interruption or to recognise it with some sarcasm or -flash of anger. Instead, he turned lightly to the -speaker.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah!" he said, "I had not noticed you. So you -are interested in——" he paused, "in mines," he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Margaret stiffened, and George said easily:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well in this one I reckon I am."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah yes," said Apache Kid. "There has been of -course a lot of talk about it. Yes, I have specimens."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He produced two pieces and handed them to -George, and then turning to Miss Pinkerton, he said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I was going to make a suggestion to you, Miss -Pinkerton, remembering your father's desire that -we—remembering the desire he expressed to us, I was -going to make the suggestion, that, if it would not -offend you, you would accept— May I speak before -this gentleman?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Certainly," said she, coldly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He bowed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I was going to suggest that you might allow me -to transfer to your bank the sum of—let me see—" -and he took a paper from his pocket. It was -inconceivable that he had forgotten the amount, but he -glanced at the paper, and then looked up as though -making a computation, but in so doing looked both -at the young woman and at George, who was leaning -against a neighbouring table. "The sum of twenty -thousand, seven hundred and forty dollars," said he.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was no change on his face; he spoke as -lightly of the sum as might a Rockefeller, and his was -the only face that remained immobile. But then, of -course, he was the only one who knew what was -coming.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>George stared with a look of doubt.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Margaret looked at Apache Kid keenly and then -at George for a long space, thoughtfully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For me—I was thunderstruck. I gasped. I think -I must have cried out something (I know that what -I thought was: "Why! This is your entire share, -apart from the turquoises,") for the three were all -looking at me then.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I knew besides that he had no money left, apart -from our Lost Cabin wealth; for he had told me so. -Twenty thousand, seven hundred and fifty had been -his share of the gold and ten dollars of this he had -paid already for his seat in the stage. He was giving -this girl all he had.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It will not go very far," said Apache Kid, smiling. -"It is, after all, very little to offer, but I am in hopes -that within a fortnight or so I may be able to perhaps -double the amount. I know," and now, if you like, -I could see the sneer creep on his face, "I know that -women are not mercenary and I must apologise for -speaking of money matters. It was not only money -matters that were in Mr. Pinkerton's mind, I believe. -I believe it was your happiness that he was anxious -about. I cannot pretend to myself that I could ever, -by offering you money, wipe out the debt we owe -him. I know that we were the cause of his death, -though we did not fire the fatal shot. Money, to -my mind, could never recompense for a life lost for -others."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He looked up and saw Margaret's eyes fixed on -him—and his eyes did not remove. He gazed into -hers unflinching, and as he looked hers filled with -tears. He had his head raised and she seemed to -be looking clear into his soul. Her face was very -beautiful to see then.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>How George took all this I do not know; for I was -looking on the girl.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"O!" she said, her voice quavering. "O, I think -you are just </span><em class="italics">all right</em><span>."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then she bowed her head and wept quietly to -herself and as I could not bear to see her thus and do -nothing to console her, I very softly rose to steal out. -I knew myself a spectator, not an actor in this affair. -Out into the red-gold evening I went and looked -across the brown, rolling plain and Apache followed -me and then George came after us and said quietly -to him:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What game is this you are playing?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Apache Kid turned to him. "Be guided," he said, -"by a woman's intuition. You saw that she knew -I was playing no game."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And then he said very quietly: "Are you aware, -George, that if I wished I could steal her away from -you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The breath sucked into George's nostrils in a series -of little gasps and came forth similarly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I believe you are a devil," he said. "And if -it was n't for her, I 'd finish our other little matter -right now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We will let that rest—for her sake," said Apache -Kid. "Still, tell me, are you aware of that? Do -you know that I am master here?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>George's face was pale under the sun-brown.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We were standing there in that fashion when there -was a sound of slow hoofs in the sand and three -ponies came ploughing along the road, an old, -dry-faced Indian riding behind the string.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You want to buy a horse?" he asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Apache Kid looked up.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, we might trade," said he. "How much -you want for them two, this and that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Heap cheap," said the Indian. "Ten dollah."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For two?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, ten dollah for one, ten dollah for one."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's a trade then," said Apache Kid. "Will you -lend me twenty dollars, Francis?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I glanced at George and saw him looking dazed, -uncomprehending.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I think the Indian was surprised there was no -attempt to beat down the price and regretted he had -not asked more.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When Apache Kid paid for the horses he gave me -the halters to hold, stood absently a moment with -puckered brows and biting lips, then drew a long -breath and stepped into the house again. George -did not follow but stood looking over the plain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What is his game?" said George.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I do not know," said I, "but whatever it is you -may be sure it is nothing mean."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>George meditated and then:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, I guess not," he said. "He's too deep for -me, though. I don't understand him. Did he ever -tell you our little trouble?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," said I.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Neither will I, then," said he, "and I guess he -never will."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I would n't think of asking him," said I.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And he would n't think of telling," replied George.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And just then Apache Kid came out and Miss -Pinkerton with him. I think it was as well that the -verandah was in shadow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"George," she said, and I at least caught a tremble -in her voice. "Ain't this too bad? Apache Kid -tells me that he has just reckoned on pulling out -right away,—says he never meant to stay here over -night. I wanted to lend him two of our mounts, -but he says he 's got these two from an Indian, and -they 'll serve. Do you think you could get a pair of -saddles turned out?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ce't'inly," said George; and away he went to rout -out the saddles.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I could not understand Margaret's next remark.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If they do come down after you," said she, "I 'll -tell them——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Better tell them you did n't see us go away," -interrupted Apache Kid. "Better just don't see -us go away—and then you 'll be able to speak -the truth. You won't know which way we went."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She seemed very sad at this, but George now -returned with the saddles, and we were soon ready -for the way, our blankets strapped behind.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Margaret held up her hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good-bye," she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good-bye, Miss Pinkerton," said Apache Kid.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She stretched up and said: "You 're too good a -man to be——" I lost the rest, and, indeed, I was -not meant to hear anything.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She shook hands with me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If ever you are in them parts again," she said, -"don't forget us; but you 'll have to ask for -Mrs. Brooks then."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Apache was holding out his hand to George, who -took it quickly, with averted face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good-bye, Mr. Brooks," said Apache Kid. -"And, by the way, in case you might think it -worth while to have a look at that ore in place, -I 've left a map of your route to the mountain with -Miss Pinkerton, and an account of how you might -strike it. You can tell the sheriff of Baker you have -it. He and Slim, that lean assistant of his, are the -only men who know about the lie of the land; the -Indian tracker does n't count. You can do what you -like between you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>George seemed nonplussed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This," said he, "is real good of you, sir; but I -don't know what you do it for."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"O!" said Apache Kid. "I told you I had n't -much faith in its value, you remember."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, so you did," said George; but he seemed -doubtful, and then suddenly took Apache Kid's -hand again and shook it. "We 're friends, we -two," said he.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, sure, you 're friends," said Margaret, -hastily; but her eyes looked out on the road to Baker -City, and she seemed listening for some approach.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Apache touched his horse, and it wheeled and -sidled a little and threw up the dust, and then -suddenly decided to accept this new master.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>My mount was duplicating that performance, and -when he got started Margaret gave just one wave -of her hand and, taking George by the arm, led him -indoors. When we looked back, the house stood -solitary in the sand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What does this mean?" I said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Apache Kid did not answer, and we rode on -and on in silence while the evening darkened on the -road to Camp Kettle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the look on Apache Kid's face forbade question.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="so-long"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXIX</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><em class="bold italics medium">So-Long</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><img class="dropcap inline" style="height: 6.00em" alt="Y" src="images/img-cap-29.jpg" /><span class="dropspan"></span><span>ou will hardly be astonished to hear -that the saloons in Kettle are open -night and day. Go there when you -please, you need no "knocking-up" -of sleepy attendants. The hotel door -is never closed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was long after midnight when we came into the -place, over the very road and at the same hour and -at much the same speed as Mr. Pinkerton must have -ridden in pursuit of us, not a month prior to this ride -of ours. This road from Baker City to Camp Kettle -was the base of a triangle over which we had -travelled, as it were, at the apex of which triangle was -the Lost Cabin Mine; and when we passed the place -on the hillside, where we had gone so short a while -before, something of a pang leapt in my heart. I -bade farewell there to that terrible chapter in my -life forever,—bade farewell there to the Lost Cabin -Mine.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will have to borrow from you again," said -Apache Kid (the first speech he had spoken since -leaving the Half-Way House), as we came loping -into Kettle at three of the morning. "Give me -fifty dollars, and we'll settle later."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I told him the money was as much his as mine, -and gave him what he asked before we reined up -at the hotel door, where a wild-faced lad took our -horses. An effeminate-looking youth, with that -peculiar stamp that comes to effeminate youths in -the West,—as though they counterbalanced their -effeminacy, in so rugged a place, by keeping quiet, -and so held their own among the strenuous -majority,—led us to a double-bedded room (for we were -very sleepy and desired to rest), we carrying up our -blankets and belongings with us. He set a lamp in -the room, wished us good-night with a smile,—for -it was nigh morning, really a new day,—and we sat -in silence, while on the low ceiling the smoke of the -lamp wavered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The room was close, stuffy, and Apache Kid flung -open the window and moths straightway came fluttering -in, moths as large as a dollar piece, and other -strange insects, one like a dragon-fly that rattled on -the roof and shot from side to side of the apartment -so fiercely that it seemed rebounding from wall to -wall by the force of its own impact.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Apache threw off his coat and blew out a deep -breath.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Warm," he said. "It's beastly to sleep indoors. -No! This just adds proof. I could n't ever do with -civilised ways, now. That girl," and he nodded -towards the west, "she is mine, or she was mine—when -she found that she had been right after all in -her opinion of me. And she swung back to me -more than ever strong because she had been lured -away. But I—" he threw up his head and cried the -words out in a whisper, so to speak: "I must never -be weighed in the balance before being accepted. I -must just be accepted. That is why I like you. -You just accept me. But I made it all right with -her. She will never regret having believed George's -stories of me for when I went back to her and put the -roll down and said: 'For your father's sake, Miss -Pinkerton—you will accept this,' you could see that -she wanted to ask forgiveness for having put me in -her black books. But I put that all right."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How?" I asked, for he had paused.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I told her I was a villain, told her I fully -expected to be arrested there and had only stopped -to settle my promise to her father. It was a different -thing for me to tell her I was a villain from another -telling her that. When a villain tells his villainy to -the ear of a woman he becomes almost a hero to her. -She begged me to change my ways, and I promised -that for her sake I would. Quite romantic, eh? A -touch of Sydney Carton—eh?" and he laughed. -"And now she will remember me, if she does not -indeed forget me, as a good fellow gone wrong, and -thank God she has so good a husband as George. -And George is not so bad a fellow. He can -appreciate his master when he meets him. That is one -good point about George. George is like the lion in -the cage, the lion that roars in rage after the tamer -has gone and determines to slay him on his next -visit. But on the next visit he goes through his -tricks as usual. It's a pleasure at least to know that -George at last was forced to hold out his hand to me -and call himself my friend. He does n't know why -he did. He 'll remember and wonder and he'll never -understand. That day that he came in and held me -up,—you remember?—I said to myself: 'You -come to kill me to-day, but the day will come, not -when I will crush you, but when you will come to me -just like my little poodle dog.'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He broke off and smote the buzzing insect to the -floor as it blundered past his face (he was sitting on a -chair with his arms folded on the back) and drew his -foot across it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And he came, didn't he?" he added. "My poodle dog!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But after all," he said, after a pause, "a woman -that could be moved by my little poodle dog could -never be the woman for me. When I look for a -woman it must be one who does not doubt me—and -who does not fear me. She did not fear me and that -was why I thought— Ah well, you see, she doubted -me. But let's to bed."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So we put out the light and turned in.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But I lay some time considering that Apache Kid -was not the domineering man his words might have -caused one to think. He covered up a deal of what -was in his heart with a froth of words.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Next day (or I should say, later in that day), we -continued our journey, after a few hours' sleep and a -monstrous breakfast; but never another word was -spoken on the matter of the previous night and in -the bright afternoon we came into Kettle River Gap -and found that the "east-bound" was due at three in -the afternoon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the hotel to which we repaired for refreshment -Apache Kid wrote a letter to a dealer in New York, -a letter which I was to deliver in person, carrying -with me the turquoises.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"One gets far better prices in New York than in -any of the western towns," explained Apache Kid. -"You can rely on this fellow, too. We are old friends, -and he will do the square thing. You can send on -half the amount to me, deducting what you have lent me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, nonsense!" said I.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Deducting what you have lent me," he repeated. -"Twenty dollars at the Half-Way House and fifty at -Camp Kettle. That makes seventy."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You will need some more," said I.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," said he. "I have still almost all the fifty, -of course, and I can sell the two pintos for what I -paid for them. Don't worry me. I have never been -obliged to a soul in my life for anything."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But looking up and catching my eye looking sadly -on him he smiled and: "Humour me," he said, -"humour me in this."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When the letter was written he handed it to me, -open, and said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, that is all, I think, until we hear the -east-bound whistle."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>My heart was in my mouth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That other matter?" I said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What other?" said he.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You wanted me to do something for you in the -old country."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"True," said he, and sat pondering; and then -coming to a conclusion he wrote a name and address -on another sheet, and putting it in an envelope, which -he sealed, he said: "When you reach home you can -open that, and—it should be easy enough to find -out who lives there. If they are gone, you can trace -them without anyone knowing what you are doing. -They must never know about me, however. You will -promise?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I promise," said I.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You can write to—let me see—say, where shall -I go now?—say Santa Fe—to be called for."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Had you not better come home?" I asked half-fearfully, -and he looked at me as twice I had seen him -look,—once, when he silenced the "Dago" livery-stable -keeper; once, when he silenced the sheriff. I -knew Apache Kid liked me; but at that glance I -knew he had never let me quite close to himself. -There was a barrier between him and all men. But -the look passed, and said he, slowly and definitely:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can never go home."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We went out into the air and sat silent till the -east-bound whistled and whistled and screamed nearer -and nearer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was while we sat there that I remembered that -he had advertised for Jackson's relatives, and asked -what he would do if they were heard of.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had evidently forgotten about that, for he -seemed put out, and then remarked that he would -send them his share of the turquoises, still to be -disposed of.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But you——" I began, and he held up his hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't want the stuff, anyhow," said he. "Now—don't -worry me. Don't ask me questions. What -I like about you is that you take me for granted. -Don't spoil the impression of yourself you have -given me by wanting to know how I will get on, and -thinking me foolish for what I intend to do." He -looked round on me. "Yes," said he, "I like you. -Do you know that the fact that you had never asked -me what George Brooks and I were enemies for -made me your most humble servant? Would you -like to hear that story?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I nodded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, well," he said, and laughed. "That makes -me like you all the more. You are really interested, -and yet are polite enough not to ask questions. -Yes—that's the sort of man I like."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But he had no intention of telling me that affair,—just -chuckled to himself softly and remarking, "That -must remain a mystery," he lapsed again into silence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And then the train whistled at the last curve, shot -into sight, and came thundering and screaming into -the depot.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh! Apache Kid," said I, "I cannot go to-day. -I must wait till to-morrow."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That is a pity," said he, "for then you would -have to wait here alone all to-morrow. I go West -with to-morrow morning's 'west-bound.'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, then," said I, "I will go with this one; for I -could not stand the loneliness here with you flying -away from me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No?" he said, half inquiringly; and then he -surveyed me, interested, and said again, "No, not so -easily as I can stand your departure—I suppose." But -he looked away as he spoke.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>My belongings lay just in the doorway, ready to -hand, and these he lifted, boarding the train with me -and finding me a seat. This was no sooner done than -the conductor outside intoned his "All aboard!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Apache Kid snatched my hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," said he, "in the language of the -country—so-long!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I had no word to say. I took his hand; but he -gave me only the fingers of his, and, whirling about, -lurched down the aisle of the car, for the train had -already started, and the door swung behind him. I -tried to raise the window beside me, but it was -fast, and by the time I had the next one raised and -looked out, all the depot buildings were in the haze -of my tears, in the midst of which I saw half a dozen -blurred, waving hands, and though I waved into that -haze I do not know whether Apache Kid was one of -those who stood there or not.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So the last I really saw of Apache Kid was his -lurching shoulder as he passed out of the swinging car.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="and-last"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXX</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><em class="bold italics medium">And Last</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><img class="dropcap inline" style="height: 6.00em" alt="I" src="images/img-cap-30.jpg" /><span class="dropspan"></span><span>t was with a full heart that I sat down, -oblivious of all other occupants of the -car. I sat dazed, the rattle of the -wheels in my ears, and the occasional -swishing sound without, when we -rattled across some trestle bridge above a foaming creek -hastening down out of the hills. Sunset came, glowing -red on the tops of the trees on either hand. The -Pintsch lamps were lit, and glimmered dim in that -glow of the sunset that filled the coaches. It was not -yet quite dark when we left Republic Creek, the gate -city of the mountains, behind. The sunset suddenly -appeared to wheel in the sky, and piled itself up again -to the right of the track. We were looping and -twining down out of the hills. I went out onto the rear -platform for a last look at them. Already the plains -were rolling away from us on either side, billowy, -wind-swept, sweet-scented in the dusk. Behind was -the long darkness, north and south, of the mountains. -I gazed upon it till the glow faded, and the sinister, -serrated ridge was only a long, thin line of black on -the verge of the prairie.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then I turned inwards again to the car and lay -down to sleep, while we rolled on and on through the -night over the open, untroubled plains.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But sleep on a train is an unquiet sleep, and often -I would waken, imagining myself still in the heart of -the mountains, sometimes speaking to Apache Kid, -even Donoghue.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Old voices spoke; the Laughlins, the sheriff, my -two fellow-travellers spoke to me in that uneasy -slumber, and then I would awaken to answer and find -myself in the swinging car alone, and a great rush of -emotion would fill my heart.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Two items still remain to be told.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At New York I found the address to which Apache -Kid had directed me. A sphinx of a gentleman read -the letter I gave him, looked me over, and then asked: -"The turquoises? You have them with you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I produced the bag, and he scrutinised them all -singly, with no change on his face, rang a bell, and -bade the attendant, who came in response, to bring -him scales. He weighed each separately, touched -them with his tongue, held them up to the light, and -noted their values on paper. He must have been, -indeed, a man Apache Kid could trust.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Will you have notes or gold?" he asked. "The -sum is two hundred thousand dollars, and I am -instructed in this note, which as it is open you will know -entitles you to half, to pay you on the spot."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I asked for a bill of exchange on the Bank of -Scotland. He bowed and obeyed my request without -further speech, but when he rose to usher me to the -door his natural curiosity caused him to say:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you know how your friend came by these?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I do," said I; but I thought to give this quiet -man a Roland for his Oliver, seeing he was so much -of a sphinx, and I said no more save that.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He smiled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Quite right," said he. "And did you leave your -friend well?" he asked, smiling on me in a fatherly -fashion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In the best of health," I said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I see I have to remit to Santa Fe," said he. "He -did not say where he was going after that, did he? I -can hardly expect him to stay there long."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, he did not say," I replied.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah! Doubtless I shall hear of him when he -thinks necessary," and he bowed me out and shook -hands with me at the door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The second item that still remains to be told is of -my opening of the second letter that Apache Kid -gave me. There was no difficulty in finding the -address of his "people" which this contained. But -if the address astonished me, I was certainly less -astonished than deeply moved, when, by watching the -residence, I found that his mother still lived,—a -stately, elderly lady, with silver hair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>By careful inquiries, and by some observation, I -found that there were two sisters also in the house, and -once I saw all three out shopping in Princes Street, very -tastefully but plainly dressed, and it struck me to the -heart, with a sadness I cannot tell, to think that here -was I, who could step up to them and say: "Madam, -your son yet lives; ladies, your brother is alive," and -yet to know that my lips were sealed; that for some -reason Apache Kid could never again come home.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They noticed me staring at them, and, remembering -my manners, I looked away. This intelligence I -wrote to Apache Kid (to be called for at Santa Fe), -as he had desired. But I never heard any word in -reply. The letter, however, was not returned, so I -presume he received it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I do not know whether the fact that I am bound -by a promise causes me, in contradictory-wise, to -desire all the more to speak to these three of Apache -Kid,—how alien his name sounds here in Edinburgh -of all places!—but I do know that I long to speak -to them. In Apache Kid's younger sister, especially -in her winsome face, there is something I cannot -describe that moves my heart. Once I saw her with -her sister eating strawberries on one of the roof-cafés -in Princes Street, whither I had gone with my mother. -My mother noticed the drifting of my eyes and looked -at the girl and looked back at me and smiled, and -shook her head on me, and said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She is a sweet girl, but do not stare; you have -lost your manners in America!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She did not understand, and I could not explain. -But her words, spoken jestingly, took me back to -that conversation with Apache Kid on the -stagecoach, after we had left the Half-Way-to-Kettle -House, when he delivered his opinion on the -transition period in the West; and I wondered if he had -yet looked up Carlyle's remark about the manners of -the backwoods.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>My little fortune had to be explained in some way, -but you may be sure I told nothing of the terrors of -the journey that we undertook in the gathering of it. -The common fallacy that fortunes are to be picked -up in America, by any youth who cares to go -a-plucking there, helped me greatly with most folk, -and I never was required to tell the bloody story of -the Lost Cabin Mine.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But now that they who might have wept for my -share in that business have gone beyond all weeping -and grieving I can publish the tale with no -misgivings; for the only fear that haunts me, as I go my -ways through the world, is lest I give pain to any of -these quiet, cloistered hearts, who, in their blissful -and desirable ignorance, live apart in peace, not -knowing how barbaric, how sad, how full of unrest, -and how blood-bespattered the world still is.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 6em"> -</div> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="backmatter"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst" id="pg-end-line"><span>*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK </span><span>THE LOST CABIN MINE</span><span> ***</span></p> -<div class="cleardoublepage"> -</div> -<div class="language-en level-2 pgfooter section" id="a-word-from-project-gutenberg" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<span id="pg-footer"></span><h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><span>A Word from Project Gutenberg</span></h2> -<p class="pfirst"><span>We will update this book if we find any errors.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This book can be found under: </span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/43975"><span>http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/43975</span></a></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one -owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and -you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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