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diff --git a/43975.txt b/43975.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 31c6222..0000000 --- a/43975.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8861 +0,0 @@ - THE LOST CABIN MINE - - - - -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 Project Gutenberg License included with this -eBook or online at http://www.gutenberg.org/license. - - - -Title: The Lost Cabin Mine -Author: Frederick Niven -Release Date: October 18, 2013 [EBook #43975] -Language: English -Character set encoding: US-ASCII - - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LOST CABIN MINE *** - - - - -Produced by Al Haines. - - - - - _*THE*_* - LOST CABIN - MINE* - - - _By_ - - FREDERICK NIVEN - - - - _New York_ - DODD, MEAD 6 COMPANY - 1929 - - - - [Illustration: title page] - - - - - COPYRIGHT, 1908 - BY DODD, MEAD & COMPANY - - - - PRINTED IN U. S. A. - - - - - TO MY SISTER - - - - - *Contents* - -CHAPTER - - I. Introduces "The Apache Kid" with whom Later I become Acquainted - II. Mr. Laughlin Tells the Story up to Date - III. Mr. Laughlin's Prophecy is Fulfilled - IV. I Take my Life in my Hands - V. I Agree to "Keep the Peace" in a New Sense - VI. Farewell to Baker City - VII. The Man with the Red Head - VIII. What Befell at the Half-Way House - IX. First Blood - X. In the Enemy's Camp - XI. How it was Dark in the Sunlight - XII. I am Held as a Hostage - XIII. In which Apache Kid Behaves in his Wonted Way - XIV. Apache Kid Prophesies - XV. In which the Tables are Turned--at Some Cost - XVI. Sounds in the Forest - XVII. The Coming of Mike Canlan - XVIII. The Lost Cabin is Found - XIX. Canlan Hears Voices - XX. Compensation - XXI. Re-enter--The Sheriff of Baker City - XXII. The Mud-Slide - XXIII. The Sheriff Changes his Opinion - XXIV. For Fear of Judge Lynch - XXV. The Making of a Public Hero - XXVI. Apache Kid Makes a Speech - XXVII. The Beginning of the End - XXVIII. Apache Kid Behaves Strangely at the Half-Way House to Kettle - XXIX. So-Long - XXX. And Last - - - - - _*The Lost Cabin Mine*_ - - - - *CHAPTER I* - - _*Introduces "The Apache Kid" with Whom Later - I Become Acquainted*_ - - -The 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." - -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. - -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. - -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. - -His coming awoke me from my reveries. - -"Hullo," he said: "still setting there, are you? Warmish?" - -"Yes." - -"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. - -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." - -"Been up to the McNair Mine?" he asked. - -I nodded. - -"The Bonanza?" - -I nodded again. - -"The Poorman?" - -"No good," I replied. - -"Well, did you try the Molly Magee?" - -"Yes." - -"And?" he inquired, elevating his brows. - -"Same old story," said I. "They all say they only take on experienced -men." - -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: - -"Well, if this don't beat cock-fighting!" - -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. - -"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." - -"But that would be to tell a downright lie," said I. - -"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." - -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!" - -"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. - -"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!" - -"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." - -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!" - -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: - -"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." - -"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----" - -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. - -"Warmish," he said. - -"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. - -"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: - -"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." - -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. - -"Abraham," she said in an aggrieved tone, "there ain't nobody in the -bar." - -Up jumped Abraham, his whole bearing, from his bowed head to his bent -knees, apologetic. - -"I was just tellin' this gentleman a story," he explained. - -"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." - -Mr. Laughlin turned to me. - -"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." - -Mrs. Laughlin disappeared into her own sanctum, satisfied; while the -"pro-prietor" and I went into the bar-room. - -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. - -"Who is that man?" I quietly inquired. "He is always playing there, -always alone, never speaking to a soul." - -"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." - -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." - - - - - *CHAPTER II* - - _*Mr. Laughlin Tells the Story up to Date*_ - - -Mr. 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. - -"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." - -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 _found_ 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!'" - -Laughlin paused, and, "You savvy the idea?" he asked. - -"Not quite," I said. - -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." - -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." - -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. - -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. - -"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." - -"But what about the man who was brought down here; did he not leave any -indication?" - -"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." - -"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." - -The landlord listened attentively to me. - -"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." - -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. - -"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: - -"Well, well! If this ain't----" and a dry cackle of laughter. - -"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." - - - - - *CHAPTER III* - - _*Mr. Laughlin's Prophecy is Fulfilled*_ - - -A 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. - -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. - -"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. - -"Because one can see the hills from here," said I. - -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. - -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." - -"Aye! Lonesome!" replied Larry with a sigh. - -A fifth man joined us then, and, hearing this, remarked: "A man thinks -powerful up there." - -"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. - -"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. - -"Nor I," said Donoghue. - -"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." - -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. - -"Where?" said Apache in a soft voice. - -"In the mountains, in the mountains," was the reply. - -"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?" - -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. - -"O, he might," said Canlan, now speaking for the first time since -Apache's arrival. - -"That would be a crazy thing to do," said Donoghue. "That would--a -crazy thing--to set here instead of going and locating it." - -"O, I don't know about _crazy_," said Mike. "You see, he might be -waiting to see if anybody else knew where it was." - -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. - -"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. - -"What in thunder are you all rubber-necking at the door there for?" -cried Apache Kid, springing up. - -"Was it you fired that gun?" challenged the landlord. - -"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----" - -"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. - -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." - -"Haw! Did n't even wake in time to see whose pistol was smoking, eh?" - -"No," cried he, "not even in time for that." - -"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." - -"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." - -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. - -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. - -"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. - -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. - -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." - -"O!" said the sheriff, "and what was his name?" - -"Mike Canlan," said the Apache Kid, calmly. - -"Yes," said the sheriff, looking on him with narrowing eyes, "and the -name of the other was Larry Donoghue." - -"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." - -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. - -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." - -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." - -"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." - -"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?" - -"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." - -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. - -"Thank you, Sheriff," he said. "I 'll see what can be done." - -Off went the sheriff smartly then, without another word, and Apache Kid -turned to me. - -"I 've got to thank you for preventing----" he began, and then the -Chinaman appeared beside us. "Well, Chink?" - -"Maybe that littee jobee woth half a dollah, eh?" - -"Did Donoghue give you nothing for bringing the message?" - -"Oh, no," and a bland smile. "Mishadonah think you give me half a -dollah." - -"Well, it was certainly worth half a dollar; but remember, if I find out -that Donoghue gave you anything,----" - -"Oh yes," said the Chinaman, with a slight look of perturbation, -"Mishadonah he gave me half-dollah." - -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." - -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." - -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. - -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?" - - - - - *CHAPTER IV* - - _*I Take My Life in My Hands*_ - - -After 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. - -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." - -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." - -"Yes, I did n't see you at breakfast there," said I. - -"Was Canlan there?" he asked eagerly. - -"Not while I was breakfasting, at any rate," I replied. - -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." - -"Blaine's?" I asked. "Where is Blaine's?" - -"Blaine, Blaine, Lincoln Avenue; near the corner of Twenty-second -Street." - -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." - -But Donoghue, seeing that I did not know the streets of the city by -name, directed me: - -"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." - -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. - -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." - -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. - -"Stop, you!" he cried. - -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. - -"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. - -"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?" - -"Yes," I said, and fell in step with him. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -"Step right in, Mr. Donoghue," he said. "Apache Kid is settin' there." - - - - - *CHAPTER V* - - _*I Agree to "Keep the Peace" in a New Sense*_ - - -It 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. - -"We'll not talk here," he said. "Walls have ears:" and so we all turned -about and marched out again. - -"Going out for a strowl?" asked Blaine. - -"Yes," said Apache. "Fine night for a strowl." And we found ourselves -on the street down which we turned and walked in silence. - -Suddenly Apache Kid slowed down and swore to himself. - -"I should n't have said that!" he remarked angrily. - -"Said what?" Donoghue interrogated. - -"O! mocked Blaine like that--said we were going for a strowl." - -"What do you mean?" asked Donoghue, whose ear did not seem very acute. - -Apache looked at him with a relieved expression. - -"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. - -"Strowl?" I inquired. - -He sighed. - -"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." - -"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. - -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. - -"Have you had supper yet?" he asked. - -"No," I said. "It's early yet." - -He looked at me keenly and then: "You 'll excuse me remarking on your -appearance, but you look extraordinarily tired." - -"Oh," said I, lightly, "I have not been feeling just up to the scratch -and--well, I thought I 'd try the fasting cure." - -He hummed to himself and dived a hand into his trousers pocket and held -out a five-dollar bill under my nose. - -"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." - -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. - -"We 'll wait here for you till you get fed," said he, examining the back -of his hand. - -"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." - -"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." - -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." - -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. - -"Get to your job," growled Donoghue, "and quit palaver." - -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." - -"At times," interjected Donoghue. - -"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. - -"It's them mountains that does it," said Donoghue, with a heavy frown. - -"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." - -His eyes were looking past me on things invisible to me, looking in -imagination, I suppose, on his own past from which he spoke. - -"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." - -"This is called the return to Nature," said Apache Kid, calmly. - -"Return to hell!" cried Donoghue, and Apache Kid inclined his head in -acquiescence. He seemed content to let Donoghue now do the talking. - -"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----" - -"In the manner of wolves," said Apache, with a half sneer. - -"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." - -His gaze wandered to the mountains behind the town and Apache took up -the discourse. - -"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." - -He looked on me keenly a space and added: - -"Somehow I think that you will do more than keep off the bickering -spirit. I think you 'll establish amicable relations." - -It was curious to observe how the illiterate Donoghue took his partner's -speech so much for granted. - -"What's amicable?" he said. - -"Friendly," said Apache Kid. - -"Amicable, friendly," said Donoghue, thoughtfully. "Good word, -amicable." - -"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." - -"Well, that's straight enough talk, I guess," said Donoghue. "Is the -deal on?" - -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. - -"The deal is on," I said. - -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. - -"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." - -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. - - - - - *CHAPTER VI* - - _*Farewell to Baker City*_ - - -We all came to our feet then, Apache Kid carefully flicking the sand -from his clothing. - -"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. - -"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." - -So saying, with a wave of his hand, he entered Blaine's. - -At Baker Street corner Donoghue stopped. - -"I 'll be seeing you two days from now," he said. - -"Do we not start for two days then?" I asked. - -"O, Apache Kid will see you to-night and make all the arrangements about -pulling out. So-long, just now." - -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. - -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. - -When I came on to the verandah I picked out Apache Kid at once. - -A man who evidently did not know him was saying: - -"What do you wear that kerchief for, sir, hanging away down your neck -that way?" - -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. - -I think few of the men there, however, understood the nature that -prompted him when he turned slowly in his chair and said: - -"Well, sir, I wear it for several reasons." - -"Oh! What's them?" - -"Well, the first reason is personal--I like to wear it." - -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." - -"O! How do you work that miracle?" - -"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." - -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!'" - -There was a strained silence after these words. Some of the more -self-reliant men broke it with a laugh. The most were silent. - -"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. - -"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----" - -"D' ye think I 'm going to apologise for askin' you that question?" - -"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." - -He turned and scrutinised the speaker from head to toe and back again. - -"No," he repeated decidedly. "I should be very much surprised if you -did." - -"By Moses!" cried the man. "You take the thing very seriously. I only -asked you----" and his voice grumbled off into incoherence. - -"Yes," said Apache Kid. "I have a name for being very serious. Perhaps -I did answer your question at too great length, however." - -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. - -I was still smiling when Apache Kid came over to me. - -"Could you be ready to go out to-morrow at noon on the Kettle River Gap -stage?" he asked quietly. - -"Certainly," said I. "We don't start from here, then?" - -"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?" - -I told him no, but that I had been out for my evening constitutional and -not near the city. - -"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." - -But neither Apache Kid nor Canlan put in an appearance all evening, and -so I judged that elsewhere my friend had "rubbed against" Canlan. - -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. - -"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." - -"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." - -"And where do you think of going now?" she asked. - -I evaded a direct answer, and yet answered truthfully: - -"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." - -"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 canon one atop the other. Ney and the -rest only wants men that can look after their rights that way----" - -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. - -"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. - -"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." - -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. - -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." - -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?" - -"Yes," said I. - -"Goin' to pastures green?" - -I nodded. - -"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. - -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. - - - - - *CHAPTER VII* - - _*The Man with the Red Head*_ - - -Of 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. - -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. - -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: - -"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." - -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." - -He sat considering a little while. - -"If Canlan should by any chance get wind of our departure and follow -up----" he began, and then closed his teeth sharply. - -"What then?" I asked. - -"He 'd be a dead man," said he, "and a good riddance to the world." - -"I 'd think murder worse than lying," said I. - -"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. - -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. - -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?" - -"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----" - -"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. - -"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. - -"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. - -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. - -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. - -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." - -"What was he like?" Apache asked, and I described him, but apparently -without waking any memory or recognition in Apache's mind. - -"Who was that who went out?" he asked, turning to the barman. - -"Did n't observe, sir," was the reply. - -"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." - -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." - -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." - -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. - -"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. - -Apache Kid's eyes were bright, but there seemed no fear on his face; I -could see none. - -"You have me now," he said quietly. - -The man behind the gun, a tall fellow with close-cropped red hair, -lowered his revolver hand. - -"I 've waited a while for this," he said. - -"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." - -The man Jake lowered his hand wholly then. - -"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?" - -And I thought to myself: "In the language of the country that means, -'are you armed?'" - -"I am not," said Apache, lightly. - -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. - -"I can't do it," he said. "You 're too gritty a man for me to put out -that way." - -There was a quick jingle of his spurs, and he was gone. - -A long sigh filled the room. - -"A gritty man, right enough," said one man near by. "A pair of gritty -men, I 'm thinking." - -Apache Kid drained his glass, and I heard him say to the barman: - -"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." - -"But you told him you were n't heeled," said the barman. - -"Oh! But I might have been lying," said Apache Kid, and frowned. - -"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." - -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. - -And just then, "All aboard!" we heard the stage-driver intone at the -door. - -When we came forth again there were only two horses before the hotel. - -"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. - - - - - *CHAPTER VIII* - - _*What Befell at the Half-Way House*_ - - -Of 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. - -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." - -"I understand," said I, and this resolution we accordingly carried out. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -"I think I remember of you on the way up to Baker City," she said: -"about two months ago, wasn't it?" - -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. - -"Can you ride?" she asked. - -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. - -She thought it "great," she said, to get on horseback and gallop "to the -horizon and back," as she put it. - -"It makes you feel so free and glad all over." - -I would soon learn, she said, but "the boys" would have their fun with -me to start. - -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. - -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. - -"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. - -My vis-a-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. - -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. - -He turned to me, and, wagging his head toward her, remarked: - -"She does n't cotton to me." - -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. - -"Ho!" he said, and blew through his nose at me, thrusting out his wet -moustache. "Are you deaf or saucy?" - -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." - -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. - -"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." - -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." - -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?" - -But I waved aside the girl and to him I began: - -"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." - -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." - -"Ho!" he began. "You----" - -But I interrupted him with: "No more, sir; understand!" - -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." - -"Good Lord!" he cried. "Do you think you can scare me?" - -"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." - -"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." - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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." - -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. - -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!" - -But another voice, very complacent and with a mocking, boyish ring, -broke in: - -"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. - -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." - -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." - -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." - -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. - -He looked a sorry figure as he shuffled from the chamber. - -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." - -"That's all right, sir; that's all right, sir. Don't mention it," said -Apache Kid, throwing his revolver back into its holster. - -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. - -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." - -We did not speak, but Apache's bow was something to see, and with a -hearty shake of the hand we mounted the stage. - -"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." - -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. - -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. - -We went on in silence and then I heard Apache Kid murmur: "Did she mean -it or did she not?" - -"Mean what?" I asked. - -"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?" - -"No," said I, with a smile part at this revival of his old caution and -part at something else. - -"Can you shoot?" - -I shook my head. - -"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!" - -"Biff!" went the revolver, and I saw the top leaves on a sage-brush fly -in the air. - -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. - -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. - -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." - -"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." - -"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." - - - - - *CHAPTER IX* - - _*First Blood*_ - - -It 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. - -"They seem to be celebrating here," said he of the red eyes as a hideous -din of shrieking and curses came up to us. - -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. - -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. - -"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. - -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. - -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. - -"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." - -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. - -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. - -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. - -"Good evening," said Apache Kid. - -"Good evening," said he. - -"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. - -"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." - -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. - -"But you ain't pull out to-night, heh?" said the Italian in his broken -English. - -"Yes," said Apache. - -"You going down to Placer Camp or up to mountains?" - -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. - -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. - -Back to the Chinese store we went, leading our steeds, and there roped -on our pack. - -"Do you sell rifles?" asked Apache Kid. - -"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. - -This was just finished when a voice broke in: "Goin' prospectin'?" - -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. - -"Yes," said Apache. - -"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. - -"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. - -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. - -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. - -"Perhaps it was just one of these stumps crackling," said I. - -"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. - -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. - -"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." - -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. - -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. - -"I think you have made a mistake, gentlemen," said Apache Kid. - -"Oh, no mistake at all," said he with the Winchester. "I 've just come -out to make you an offer, Apache Kid." - -"You have my name," said Apache Kid, "but I have n't the pleasure of -yours." - -"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. - -"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?" - -"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. - -Apache Kid whistled softly. - -"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?" - -"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." - -"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." - -"I 'd call that the stronger hand, I guess," said the man. - -"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?" - -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. - -"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." - -"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?" - -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!" - -"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." - -"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. - -"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----" - -"Excuse me interrupting," said Apache Kid, "but are you aware that the -gentleman you have brought with you there is an incompetent?" - -"Haow?" said the Winchester man. "What you mean?" - -"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. - -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. - -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. - -"Fancy being killed by that!" said Apache Kid, wetting his lips with his -tongue, and a sick look on his face. - -"What's wrong with him?" said I. - -"Drunk," said he, and never a word more. But he followed Donoghue, to -where stood a horse, the reins hitched to a tree. - -"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. - -I looked at him in something of an emotion very nigh horror. - -"Have they to lie there till--till they are found?" - -"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." - -I looked round then, scarcely aware of the movement, and there, between -the trees, I saw the clearing with the smouldering, twinkling stumps. - -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. - -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. - -"I 'll wait till you mount," said Apache Kid, holding my horse's head -while I gathered the reins. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -"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. - -"Yes; it's a fair night," said Apache Kid, civilly enough, but I thought -him vexed at this encounter. - -"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." - -His pack-horse stood meekly behind him, laden up with blankets, pans, -picks, and the inevitable Winchester. - -"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?" - -"Nothing startling," said Apache Kid. - -"What you think o' the rush to Spokane way? Anything in it, think you?" -said the old man in his slow, weary voice. - -"O, I think----" began Apache Kid, but the old man seemed to forget he -had put a question. - -"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. - -"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?" - -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. - -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. - - - - - *CHAPTER X* - - _*In the Enemy's Camp*_ - - -In a little fold of the hills we made our camp, somewhere about two in -the morning, I should think. - -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: - -"Could you eat anything?" said he. - -"Eat!" I ejaculated. - -"Well, sleep, then?" he said. - -"Aye, I could sleep," said I. "I should like to sleep never to awaken." - -"As bad as that?" said he. - -"Look here," said I. "I 've just been thinking that I----" and I -stopped. - -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. - -"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." - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -"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." - -"How do you know, when you acknowledge you were as drunk as drunk?" - -"How do I know?" said Donoghue. "Why, drunk or sober, I never lose -anything more than my speech." - -"True," said Apache. "But you 're a disgusting sight when you are -trying to talk and----" - -"Well, well; let that drop," said Donoghue. "I was sober enough to let -the wind out of that fellow that held up you two." - -"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----" - -"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." - -"O!" said Apache Kid, paying no heed to the charge of a careless -departure. "And anybody else suspicious-looking?" - -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. - -I turned about and looked at my companions. - -"Would you be annoyed if I suggested turning back?" I asked, coming -right to the point. - -It was Donoghue who answered. - -"Guess we would n't be annoyed; but you would n't get leave, you dirty -turncoat." - -But Apache turned wrathfully on him. - -"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." - -"O, pshaw!" cried Donoghue, grinning. "Sorry I spoke, Francis. There -'s my fist; shake. Never mind the dead men." - -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. - -"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." - -On one point at least this man felt deeply, it would appear. - -"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." - -"I should never have suggested this," said I, feeling reproved. "I will -not mention it again." - -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. - -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. - -"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. - -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. - -Apache Kid was radiant. "They're a fine people, these," said he. - -"Yes," said Donoghue, "when you 've got a gun and keep them at a -distance." - -"Nonsense," cried Apache Kid. "I 've lived among them and I know." - -"Yes, lived among 'em to buy 'em whisky, I guess, so as they could get -round about the law." - -"No," said Apache Kid, "never bought them a single bottle all the time I -was with them." - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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." - -"Yes," said Apache Kid. "It's a good spot." - -"You've been here before?" I inquired. - -My two companions looked in each other's eyes with a meaning glance. - -"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. - -Suddenly we all three turned about at the one instant for a far-off -"Yah-ah-ah-ah!" came to us. - -There, behind us, we saw two riders, and they were posting along in our -track at great speed. - -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. - -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." - -"What in hell do he want up here?" said Donoghue. "Lead?" - -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. - -"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?" - -"Well, sir," said Apache Kid, "it does not surprise me to hear of it." - -"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. - -"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." - -"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." - -"That's so," said Mr. Pinkerton: "but still there's chances, you know." - -"Oh, yes," said Apache Kid, and again: "We owe you our thanks," said he. - -"Not you, not you!" said Mr. Pinkerton. - -"But what sort of outfit is this that you have come to post us up -about?" - -"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." - -"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." - -"Pshaw!" cried Pinkerton. "What's that for?" - -"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: - -"Pardon the question, sir, but is Mrs. Pinkerton alive?" - -"My good wife is in her resting grave in Old Kentucky," said Pinkerton -in a new voice. - -"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." - -Pinkerton frowned. - -"When you put it that way," said he, "you take all the fight out of -J.D." - -"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." - -"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. - -We watched them till they had almost crested the rise and there suddenly -they stopped, wheeled, and next moment had dismounted. - -"What's wrong?" said Donoghue. "Something wrong there." - -"It looks as if the chance Pinkerton spoke of was against us after all," -said Apache Kid, quietly. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -"Come on!" cried Apache Kid. - -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." - -Next moment we three were tituping along the valley in the direction of -the two held-up men. - -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. - -And then I had an exhibition of Donoghue's madness. - -He cried out an oath, the most terrible I ever heard, and, "Come on, -boys," he shouted to us. - -"Yes, let's settle it to-day," came Apache's voice. - -"Right now!" cried Donoghue, and away we went after the fugitives. - -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. - -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!" - -And sure enough, there was a riderless horse among the six and a man all -asprawl in the sunshine before us. - -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." - -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: - -"Try a flying shot at them." - -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. - -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. - -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. - -My hands were tied together behind my back and my ankles also trussed up -in a similar manner. - -I was in the wrong camp. I had fallen somehow into the hands of our -enemies. - - - - - *CHAPTER XI* - - _*How It Was Dark in the Sunlight*_ - - -You 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. - -As for the voices I heard, they were only two in number, I think. - -"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. - -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. - -My head was beating and thumping like a shipyard with all its riveters, -and the pain between my eyes was well-nigh unbearable. - -With puckering eyebrows I scrutinised my captor, and as I did so he -cried out: "Here you are now, Farrell." - -"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. - -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." - -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. - -"See what I've bin fishin' for you?" he said, and laughed in an ugly -way. - -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. - -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. - -"That's him!" said one, and then my neck was freed. - -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. - -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. - -"Well, kid," he said, "you 're in a tight corner--you hear me? - -"I hear you," said I, speaking with difficulty, so dry was my throat. - -"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." - -"I can never do that," said I, "for I don't know myself." - -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. - -But the last words were not for me. - -One of the others stepped before me, his foot grazing my head, and I -heard him say, "There?" - -"No," said another. "That's over close--yes, there. That's the spot." - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -"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. - -"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. - -"Will you tell us now, kid?" cried Farrell. "Will you spit it out now?" - -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." - -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. - -"I do not know!" cried I. "I cannot tell you!" - -"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. - -"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?" - -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!" - -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!" - -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. - -"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. - -"It don't look bad," was the reply--and neither it did. - -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!" - -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. - - - - - *CHAPTER XII* - - _*I Am Held as a Hostage*_ - - -It 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. - -"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?" - -"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." - -"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." - -"Reckon you 'd be safer not to do that." - -"Think the kid here won't speak, then?" - -"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." - -"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." - -"Three of them," thought I, with my eye on the rattler. "That's one -short. I wonder who has been killed or disabled." - -"Say! Shout to him to stop. Tell him if he wants to pow-wow with us to -come up alone." - -"Yes, and leave his rifle down. You do the talkin' now, Farrell." - -"Right," said Farrell, and then he shouted, "Well, what do you want?" - -"I want to come up and talk this out with you," hailed a voice that I -recognised for Apache Kid's. - -"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." - -"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. - -"Stop there a minute!" cried Farrell, and then turning to the speaker he -said sharply: "Spit it out then, Pete; what's your notion?" - -"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." - -"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. - -"You can come up the length o' that there white rock," he cried, and -then to his companions: "See! Lend a hand here." - -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. - -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. - -"Stand up, you son of a whelp," he said, and spurned me with his boot. - -After the terror of the snake there seemed little now that I need heed. - -"It's easier said than done!" I cried, angry at his words. "I 'm like a -block of stone from my waist down." - -"I guess that's right. He must be feeling that way," said one of the -others, with a touch of commiseration in his voice. - -That was the first sign of any heart that I had discovered in the -ruffians. - -"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." - -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. - -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. - -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. - -"Well," said Farrell, "what do you want to pow-wow about? You see who -we got here?" - -"I see," said Apache Kid, putting a foot upon the white stone. "How are -you, Francis?" - -"He 's all right," said Farrell. "But he 's a kind o' prisoner o' war -just now." - -"Oh!" said Apache Kid. "Well, I suppose if we want to get him back we -'ll have to buy him back?" - -"That's what!" said Farrell, emphatically. - -"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." - -And here, as you will be wondering how the horses had changed hands, I -must tell you what I had afterwards explained to me. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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!" - -Farrell laughed loud at Apache Kid's suggestion. - -"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." - -"And where do we come in?" yelled Donoghue, rearing up beside his bush. - -"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!" - -Donoghue broke out in a roar of laughter. - -"Oh," he said, "the lad is nothing to us. You can do what you like with -him." - -Apache Kid turned upon him with a glance as of astonishment, and then -again to Farrell he said: - -"I 'll give you the offer we came up with, and you and your two mates -can consider it." - -"Three mates, you mean," snapped Farrell. - -"Na! Na!" cried Donoghue. "When I look along a rifle I never err." - -"Oh, it was you did it?" cried Farrell. "Well, what's your offer?" - -"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." - -Farrell turned to his two companions and looked a question at them. - -"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." - -"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." - -"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?" - -"Take the offer, man. Take the offer," said Pete and Dan. - -"All right," cried Farrell. "But mind, we're bad men, and this will -have to be run on the square." - -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." - -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. - -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. - -Just as we came down the rise, there was Mr. Pinkerton leading the -horses along toward us. - -"Say!" cried Farrell. "What about him?" And he pointed to Pinkerton. - -"O!" said Apache Kid. "He wants nothing to do with this expedition -whatever." - -Then suddenly Farrell's face lighted with a new thought. "And he goes -down to the camps and blabs the whole thing, eh?" - -"I believe he won't say a word about it,--neither he nor the half-breed -here." - -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?" - -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. - - - - - *CHAPTER XIII* - - _*In Which Apache Kid Behaves in His Wonted Way*_ - - -What 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. - -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. - -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. - -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: - -"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." - -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. - -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?" - -"Scared!" said I. "Man! I 've been tortured." - -"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." - -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. - -He listened with his head to one side and his loose jaw tightening and -thrusting out. - -"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." - -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. - -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. - -And for a surety there was every reason why these fellows should be -suspicious of us and be wary and watchful of our movements. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -"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. - -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. - -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. - -I looked round the group at the fire again. - -"Well," said Apache Kid, the first to speak, "who's to night-herd the -horses?" - -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. - -"I 'll take the first guard, if you like," said he. - -Farrell looked across at Apache Kid. - -"One of your side, then," said he, "can take the next guard--share and -share--time about, I guess; eh?" - -Apache Kid threw the end of his cigarette into the fire and, drawing out -his pouch, rolled another and moistened it before he replied. - -"Why do you talk about sides at all?" he asked. "I thought we were a -joint stock company now?" - -"Well, well," snapped Farrell, "I mean one of you three--you or one of -your partners." - -"Quite so; I know what you mean. I understand your meaning perfectly." - -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." - -Every eye was fixed anxiously on him. - -"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." - -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. - -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. - -"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." - -Everybody cocked an ear, so to speak, on this speech; but no one of -those who did not understand asked an explanation. - -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. - -"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." - -"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." - -"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." - -You should have seen the man Pete at these soft-spoken words. - -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. - -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." - -Farrell turned on him with a leer and laughed. - -"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." - -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: - -"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." - -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. - -"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. - -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?" - -"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." - -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. - - - - - *CHAPTER XIV* - - _*Apache Kid Prophesies*_ - - -You 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. - -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. - -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. - -"There ain't no call for me to turn in," he was saying. "I don't have -to turn in to please you." - -I snuggled the blankets under my chin and looked to see who he was -addressing. - -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." - -Donoghue looked at him in that insolent fashion of opening the eyes -wide, and then almost shutting them, and sneered: - -"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?" - -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." - -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?" - -This, to my mind, was a very faulty morality, but it seemed not so to -Farrell. - -"Yes," he agreed. "I reckon that's generally understood," and then he -showed quite a turn for argument on his own plane of thought. - -"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." - -Argument was not in Donoghue's line but he cried out: - -"And where would I be while you were tryin' it on?" - -Farrell did not answer, and in the pause Donoghue did indeed continue -the argument, unwittingly, to its logical conclusion: - -"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." - -"It seems to me like as we did," said Farrell, with a vindictive leer, -"else why are we here now?" - -"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!'" - -"And what if the mug was to follow you up?" said Farrell. - -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: - -"The hosses! Where's the hosses?" - -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. - -Dan leapt to his feet. - -"The hosses is gone!" he cried, and he rushed across to the two horses -that were tied with the lariats. - -"Lend me a hoss," he cried. "We must go out and see where Pete has got -to with them horses." - -"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. - -It was Apache Kid who restored some semblance of order to the camp. - -"All right, Dan," he said. "Don't worry. It's too late now." - -We all turned to him in wonder. - -"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. - -"What you mean?" cried Farrell. - -"Just what I say," said Apache Kid. "He simply walked the whole bunch -quietly away five minutes after he bunched them together out there." - -"You saw him doin' that! You saw his game and said nothing!" cried -Farrell. - -"Even so!" replied Apache Kid. - -Farrell glared before him speechless. - -"What in creation made him do that?" said Dan, going back like a man -dazed to his former place. - -"You mean _who_ in creation made him do that?" Apache Kid said lightly: -"and I have to acknowledge that it was I." - -"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?" - -"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." - -"I don't know what you mean," said Farrell, like a man scenting -something beyond him. - -"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----" - -"No! Nor devil!" cried Farrell. - -"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." - -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." - -"Don't you Daniel me!" cried the man. "You 're gettin' too derned fresh -and frisky and gettin' to fancy yourself." - -"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: - -"He 's a good man spoiled, is that Apache Kid. I could ha' been doin' -with a son like that." - -"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." - -Apache Kid was up in a moment. - -"Soft!" he cried, "soft!" - -And on his face was the look that he gave the Italian livery-stable -keeper at Camp Kettle, only, as the saying is, _more_ so. - -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." - -"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?" - -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." - -The fire of anger had leapt quick enough to life in Apache Kid, and it -seemed to ebb as suddenly. - -"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." - -He turned as he reached where his blankets lay. - -"Farrell," he said, "it is at the end of a rope that you will die." - - - - - *CHAPTER XV* - - _*In Which the Tables Are turned--at Some Cost*_ - - -After that peace came, and I dozed again. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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!" - -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?" - -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. - -"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." - -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. - -"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----" - -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: - -"You or Apache--Meg." And that was the last of this kindly and likeable -man who had done so much for us. - -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. - -There, on his belly almost, he was creeping upon Farrell from the rear. -To me it seemed the maddest and most forlorn undertaking. - -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." - -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. - -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. - -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. - -"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?" - -"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. - -"There, then!" cried Farrell. - -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. - -"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. - -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." - -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?" - -"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. - - - - - *CHAPTER XVI* - - _*Sounds in the Forest*_ - - -We 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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -"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. - -You have seen men in that mood yourself, I am sure, speaking more to the -air than to you. - -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. - -"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." - -He stopped again and considered, Donoghue rocking impotent and dazed -beside us. - -"I wonder where Canlan is to-night," he said, and then we plunged into -the woods. - -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. - -"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." - -"It is a pass, then?" said I. - -"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?" - -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. - -We moved on a little farther, and then Apache Kid cried out in joy: - -"Aha! Here we are! See the clear bit down there where the trees thin -out?" - -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. - -"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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -"It is the dawn," he said, and drew the blankets over his head. "Wake -me in another hour." - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -"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. - -"We camp at that lake to-night," said he. - -"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. - -"We could n't camp up here, anyhow," said Donoghue, looking round. - -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. - -Apache Kid was looking round and round, his eyes wide and bright. - -"I should like to see this in Winter," said he, "when leaves fall and -cold winds come." - -"There 's no mortal man ever saw this in Winter," said Donoghue, "and no -man ever will." - -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. - -I shall never forget the journey down to that lake. - -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. - -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. - -"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." - -Donoghue looked round to me and touched his forehead and shook his head -gently. - -"Rathouse," he said: "crazy as ever they make 'em." - -"But this is a trail we have come onto, sure enough," I said. - -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. - -"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?" - -A sharp crack, as of a branch broken near us, came distinctly to our -ears. - -Donoghue did not answer directly but said instead: - -"You walk first; let Francis here in the middle. I 'll come last," and -Donoghue dropped behind me. - -Apache nodded and we started on our way. - -Neither to left nor right could we see beyond a few feet, so close did -the underbrush still whelm the way. - -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. - -"Crack," sounded again a broken branch on our left. - -"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." - -We kept on, however, not hastening our steps at all, but at the same -even, steady pace, and suddenly again in the stillness--"Crack!" - -Again a branch or twig had snapped near by in the thick woods through -which we could not see. - - - - - *CHAPTER XVII* - - _*The Coming of Mike Canlan*_ - - -There 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. - -"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." - -"Lion?" asked I, astonished. - -"Yes--panther, that is," said Apache Kid. - -"In the phraseology of the country, that is," I suggested. - -Apache looked over his shoulder at me. - -"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." - -"Not you," said Larry. "Just you go on ahaid and let the lad keep in -between." - -Here the bushes thinned out considerably and when we reached this opener -part Donoghue bade us walk straight on. - -"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." - -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. - -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. - -"See the deer marks?" he whispered. "Neat, aren't they? This, you see, -is a game trail from the hills down to the lake----" - -"No good," broke in Donoghue. "He ain't going to show himself." - -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. - -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. - -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: - -"Where do you think Canlan will be to-night?" - -Donoghue considered the burning log: - -"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." - -"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?" - -"Like enough," said Donoghue; "but he's accustomed to bein' dogged up." - -"Those who live in glass houses..." remarked Apache Kid, with a laugh -that had no real merriment in the ring of it. - -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. - -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. - -"Where do you come from, Francis?" he asked. "What is your nationality?" - -"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. - -"Yes; we all are," said Apache Kid, putting aside my lightness. "But is -n't it Edinburgh you come from?" - -"Yes," said I. - -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. - -"Shall I tell him?" he asked. - -"Tell him what?" said Donoghue, looking uncomfortable, I thought, as -though this mood of his partner's was one he did not relish. - -"Tell him what we are--how we live--all that?" - -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." - -Again there was a pause. - -"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----" - -"Spit it out," said Donoghue. "Spit it out. It ain't everybody has the -courage to be." - -I considered what was coming. - -"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----" - -"By gum! we 've held up more nor stage-coaches," cried Donoghue, and -began fumbling in an inner pocket with eager fingers. - -"And banks," said Apache Kid, gazing on me to see the effect of this -disclosure. - -Donoghue stretched across to me, his loose face gleaming with a kind of -joy. - -"Read that," he said. "Read what that says;" and he handed me a long -newspaper cutting. - -What I read on the cutting was: - - "Daring Hold-Up of the Transcontinental. - The Two-some Gang again at Work." - - -"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." - -Apache Kid seemed disturbed, annoyed. - -"Well! what do you think?" he said, fixing me with his eye. - -"I 'm sorry," said I. - -Donoghue threw back his head and laughed. - -"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." - -"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." - -"If someone else had told----" he began. - -"Then I might speak," said I. - -"Should it not be the other way about?" he asked, half smiling. - -"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?" - -He looked on me with great friendliness. - -"I understand the sentiment," said he. "But I should like you to -preach, if you wish." - -"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----" - -"Murder?" asked Donoghue; but Apache Kid silenced him with a gesture, -and I continued: - -"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." - -He nodded at that part, and his face cleared a little. - -"That but makes me all the more sorry," said I, "to know you are----" I -paused. "A parasite!" - -I blurted out. - -"Parasite!" he cried; and his hand flew down to his holster, wavered, -and fell soundless on his crossed legs. - -It was the first time he had looked on me in anger. - -"What's parasite?" asked Donoghue. - -"A louse," said Apache Kid. - -"Hell!" drawled Donoghue, and glanced at me. "You need lookin' after." - -"There are parasites and parasites," said I. "In this case it is more -like these deer-lice we came by in the forest." - -We had suffered from these, but I have not said anything of them, for -the subject is not pleasant. - -"Well," drawled Donoghue. "They are fighters, anyway, they are. You -kind o' respect them." - -Apache Kid smiled. - -"Yes," he said, in a low voice, "it's the right word, nevertheless." - -Donoghue jeered. - -"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." - -Apache surveyed him with interest for a moment and then again turning to -me he heaved a little sigh and said: - -"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----" - -"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. - -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!" - -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: - -"Don't shoot, man; don't shoot! It's Canlan; Mike Canlan. You ain't -hostile to Mike Canlan." - -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. - -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: - -"Murderer! Murderer!" - -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." - -At last I did "let up" and stood back from him. - -He sat up and wiped the blood from his mouth and spat out a tooth. - -"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?" - -My gorge rose to hear him talk thus. - -"Easy I could have done it," he went on, "but I didn't. And why?" - -He sidled to me on his hams without attempting to rise, and held up a -finger to me. - -"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----" - -"Silence!" I cried, drawing back from his touch, as he crept nearer. - -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-- - -"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!" - -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. - -"He's dead, ain't he?" said Canlan, and I lied to him. - -"Yes," I replied. "He is dead, and as for you----" - -"As for me--nothing!" said Canlan, and he looked along his gleaming -barrel at where my heart fluttered in my breast. - -"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?" - -I was not going to tell him the terms I was here on, but I said: - -"Put down your rifle then, and let us talk it over." - -"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. - - - - - *CHAPTER XVIII* - - _*The Lost Cabin is Found*_ - - -"Come, 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." - -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. - -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. - -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. - -"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?" - -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. - -"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. - - -[#] Money. - - -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. - -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. - -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. - -"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?" - -"Not I," I replied. "I did not know then that you knew the secret." - -"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." - -He blinked on me, and then sniffed twice, and suddenly pursed his lips -and said: - -"But that ain't here nor there. Are you on to take my offer o' half -shares in this?" - -The whole man was still loathsome to me, and I cried out: - -"No, no! And would to Heaven I had never heard of this horrible and -accursed quest." - -"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?" - -"I won't do that," said I. - -"That's a bargain, then," he cried, and before I could say another word -he threw himself down beside the fire. - -He drew his hand over his brow and showed me it wet. - -"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." - -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. - -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. - -"Don't you do it," he said. - -"Do what?" I inquired. - -"What you was thinkin' of," he replied. - -"And what was that?" - -"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!" - -"What was I thinking of doing, then?" I asked. - -"That's all right," he said. "You can't bluff me." - -"Well, what then?" I cried, irritated. - -He sat up. - -"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----" - -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. - -"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." - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -And I thought to myself that this reptile of a man might well cry on God -on waking that morning. - -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 _crawled_ 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. - -"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." - -He wheeled about. - -"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." - -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: - -"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." - -It was now broad day, and as I turned to follow Canlan again I gave up -my old friends for dead. - -The man's short, broad back and childish legs, and the whole shape of -him, seemed to combine to raise my gorge. - -"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: - -"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." - -At the thought he absolutely screamed: - -"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. - -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. - -"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----" - -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. - -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. - -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. - -Canlan turned his ashen face to me, and his yellow eyeballs glittered. - -"It looks as we were first," he said, his voice going up at the end into -a wavering cry and his lips twitching convulsively. - - - - - *CHAPTER XIX* - - _*Canlan Hears Voices*_ - - -You 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. - -"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. - -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. - -"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. - -"----the shack! Hullo, the cabin!" cried out the rib beyond, in an -echo. - -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. - -He knocked again. - -"Sounds as if there was somebody in here," he said, in a low, thick -whisper, so that I thought he was afraid. - -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." - -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. - -"Anyone there?" he asked, and then stepped boldly in. - -"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." - -Then suddenly he turned a puzzled face on me. - -"Queer that, eh?" - -"What?" - -"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 _push_ that -worked the mine---- Say!--" he broke off, "where in thunder is the -prospect itself?" - -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. - -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. - -"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." - -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. - -"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." - -The light from the hatch above was now streaming in. - -"Them blankets is all chawed up," he said. - -"Heavens!" I gasped. "Were they driven to that?" - -"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?" - -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. - -"Look at all the bones here," I said. - -Canlan was at my side on the very words. - -"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." - -I turned on him, the unspoken question in my face, I have no doubt. - -All the fear had departed from his face now as he snatched up a bone out -of one of the shelves. - -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. - -"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. - -"Ain't it terrible?" he said. - -"It is terrible," said I. - -"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." - -I stepped back from his grinning face. - -"But how do these bones come there?" I said. - -"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." - -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. - -"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." - -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. - -"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 _wills_ 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." - -He waved his hands suddenly before my eyes. - -"Feel any peculiar sensation at that?" he said. - -"Yes," said I. - -"What like?" he asked. - -"I feel that I 'll not let you do it again," said I. - -"Scared like? Feel kind o' slippin' away?" - -"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." - -"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 -_they 're_ comin' on again, and when they come on I 'm fearsome--I am." - -He looked round the place again and then cried out in a voice of agony: - -"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." - -He spoke this in a beseeching whine. To see the way the creature -changed and veered about in his manner was interesting. - -"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." - -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. - -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. - -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. - -"Listen! Don't you hear nuthin'?" he asked, hoarse and low. - -"Nothing," said I. - -"Ah! It's jest them fancies," said he, and fell silent. - -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?" - -"I heard a coyote howl," I said. - -"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. - -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. - -I shook my head. - -"Sure?" he asked. - -"Positive," said I. - -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." - -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. - -"Now?" he gasped. - -"Nothing," I said: "not a sound." - -"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." - -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. - -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!" - -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. - -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. - -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: - -"Mike Canlan! Mike Canlan! I 'm on your trail, Mike Canlan!" - -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. - -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!" - -Aye, it was death; but not as Canlan imagined. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - - - - - *CHAPTER XX* - - _*Compensation*_ - - -From 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. - -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: - -"Bob White! Bob White! Bobby White!" - -And away it flew with a rising and falling motion and down into the cup -below, from where its cry came up again. - -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. - -"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. - -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. - -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?" - -And then I asked him, all my own selfish heart being outpoured, how it -was that I found him here alive. - -"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." - -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. - -Apache Kid followed the gaze of my eyes, looked at me again with that -knitting of the brows, as in anger almost, or contempt. - -"Brace up!" he said sharply. - -"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." - -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. - -"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. - -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. - -When I came again from that darkness, I stretched out my hands and -looked around. - -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. - -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: - -"Oh, Apache Kid! It would be better to die and have done with it." - -"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: - -"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." - -"How long have I lain here?" I asked suddenly. - -"Just since morning," said he. "A mere nothing, man. After another -sleep you will be better, and then we----" he paused then. - -"We will do what?" I said. - -"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. - -From this I woke to a sound of drumming, as of thousands of pattering -feet. - -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. - -Apache Kid sat on one of the rough stools by the door, looking outward, -and I called him. - -He came quick and eager at my cry. - -"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." - -"What is it?" I asked. - -"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. - -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. - -With surprise I found myself sitting up and smoking a cigarette while he -sat back nursing a knee, laughing on me and saying: - -"Smoking a cigarette! A sick man! Sitting up--and inhaling, too--and -blowing through the nose--a sick man--why, the thing's absurd!" - -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. - -"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." - -"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. - -Apache read the thought before I spoke. He nodded his head -reassuringly, and said: - -"We are safe from him. He will trouble us no more. I have seen, to -make sure." - -"I think I should be ashamed of myself," said I, "for giving in like -this." - -"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?" - -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. - -I looked up with inquiry. - -"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. - -"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?" - -It mattered little to me. My soul was sick of it all. - -"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. - -"So it's a fizzle?" I said half-heartedly. - -"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?" - -I told him that the tinkering was Canlan's doing, to prevent an inroad -of the rats, should we have slept in the place. - -"Thanks be unto Canlan," said he. "We 'll start on the roof." - -At this task I assisted, standing on the wabbly stool and filling up the -crevices. - -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. - -"What's that?" I cried. But indeed I guessed what these dirty yellow -things were. - -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. - -"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." - -"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. - -He smiled a queer little smile at my words. - -"Well," he said, "if this indicates anything, my fortune is made in the -only way I could ever make a fortune." - -"Indicates?" I said. "How do you mean?" - -"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. - -I was a little mystified. - -"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." - -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. - -"Here," I cried, "here is another," for I had come upon just such -another sack and quickly undid the string. - -"Why, what is this?" said I. "What are these?" - -He took the bag and examined a handful of the contents--the green and -the blue stones. - -"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." - -"But what are they?" I said. - -"Why, turquoises," replied Apache Kid. - -"Turquoises in America?" I said. - -"Yes," said he, "and a good American turquoise can easily match your -Persian variety." - -He went over and sat down upon his stool. - -"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." - -"They did n't get these turquoises here, then?" I said. - -"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." - -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: - -"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." - -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. - - - - - *CHAPTER XXI* - - _*Re-enter--The Sheriff of Baker City*_ - - -"Pardon 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?" - -I stared at him in astonishment, so serious he was. - -"It does not even enter your head to regret my return from the dead?" - -"Apache!" I exclaimed. - -He chuckled to himself. - -"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?" - -I made no reply, and he chuckled again and then looked upon our trove. - -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. - -"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." - -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. - -"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." - -Then he leant forward; and he was truly serious as he looked on me. - -"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?" - -He paused, hearkening; and I too was on the alert. The squelching of a -horse's hoofs was audible without. - -"Our pack-pony," said I; "it has come down for shelter, I expect." - -He rose and walked to the door. - -"Chuck that stuff under your bed!" said he, suddenly. - -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: - -"Apache Kid, I arrest you in the name of----" - -The remainder I lost, for Apache Kid's cheery voice broke in: - -"Well, well, Sheriff--this is an unexpected pleasure! Come in, sir; -come in; though I fear we can offer but slender----" - -"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. - -"Donoghue," he said, "Larry Donoghue, I arrest you in-- Say! Where's -Donoghue, and what are you doin' here, you, sir?" - -This latter was of course to me. - -"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?" - -"Is that your hoss along there on the hill under that big tree?" said -the sheriff. - -"That," said Apache Kid, "was Canlan's horse, I believe." - -The sheriff hummed to himself. - -"So," he said quietly, "just so. There ain't any chance o' Canlan -dropping in here, is there?" - -"None whatever," said Apache Kid, calmly. - -"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." - -He looked again at me and shook his head mournfully. - -"You look kind of sick," he said, "but it's all right. Don't worry. You -'ll only be in as a witness." - -"Witness for what?" I asked. - -"Murder of Mr. Pinkerton, proprietor of the Half-Way House to Camp -Kettle." - -Apache interrupted: - -"Do you happen to have such a thing as quinine about you, Sheriff?" - -"Sure," said the sheriff: "always carry it in the hills." - -"Give my friend a capsule," he said, "and defer all this talk." - -"Murder of Mr. Pinkerton!" I cried; but just then the sheriff stooped -and lifted a slip of paper from the floor. - -"Literature!" he said. "Keepsake _pome_ or what?" - -Then I noticed his firm, kindly eyebrows lift. He turned to Apache Kid. - -"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." - -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. - -The sheriff hummed over it. - -"Kind o' lurid, this," he said; and at that comment Apache Kid's face -became radiant in a flash. - -"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." - -The sheriff rolled his bright eye on Apache, misunderstanding his -pleasure which, though it sounded something exaggerated, was assuredly -genuine enough. - -"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." - -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: - -"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." - -The sheriff, with lowered head and blank eyes, gazed from under his -brows on Apache Kid. - -"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!" - -"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." - -The sheriff made no answer, but turned to the door and bade his men -unharness the pintos and come in. - -"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." - -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. - -"I think I seen you there," said he. - -"Likely enough," said Apache Kid, unconcernedly. - -"What was you _blowing in_ that trip?" asked the long-nosed fellow, with -what to me seemed distinctly admiration in his manner. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -"I know nothing about mineral," said Slim, in his drawl. "I 'm from the -plains." - -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." - -Then the conversation dwindled, and the sheriff voiced a desire "to see -down that there hole myself." - -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: - -"Bad night come along down," and he pointed to the sky. - -"Oh!" said the sheriff, "bad night?" - -"Es, a bad mountain dis," said the Indian. "No good come here." - -"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. - -"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. - -"Devils?" inquired the sheriff. "Bad spirits, may be?" and he looked as -serious as though he believed in all manner of evil spirits himself. - -The Indian seemed almost bashful now. - -"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." - -"And what's like wrong with the mountain?" - -"He go away some day." - -"Mud-slide, eh?" asked Apache Kid. - -The Indian nodded, - -"O! Heap big mud-slide," he said. "You come a look." - -We all trooped on his heels, and then he led us to the gable of the -shanty and pointed up to the summit. - -"Good preserve us," said Slim. - -"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. - - -[#] A sticky soil common in these parts. - - -"But this ain't like chewin' gum, heh?" said the sheriff, following the -drift of the Indian's pidgin English. - -"Nosiree," said the Indian, "no hold together, come away plop, thick." - -"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." - -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. - -"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?" - -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. - -Apache Kid had said not a word so far, but now he spoke. - -"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?" - -"Sure," said the sheriff, wonderingly. - -"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?" - -You would have thought the sheriff had a real liking for Apache Kid the -way he looked at him then. - -He took the cutting from his sleeve, and tore it up and trampled it into -the wet earth. - -"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. - -"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." - - - - - *CHAPTER XXII* - - _*The Mud-Slide*_ - - -From our scrutiny of the mountain above us the sheriff turned aside. - -"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." - -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. - -I plucked my friend by the sleeve. This was the first opportunity we -had had for private speech since the sheriff's arrival. - -"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?" - -He shook his head. - -"No," said he, "not the half-breed. I 'll wager it is some of Farrell's -gang that are at the bottom of it." - -"But they," I began, "they were all----" and I stopped on the word. - -"Wiped out?" he said. "True; but you forget Pete, the timid villain." - -"But he," I said, "he was away long before that affair of poor Mr. -Pinkerton." - -"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----" - -"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." - -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. - -"All this," said he, "is guesswork, of course; for the sheriff is -reticent and so am I. But as for _proving_, 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." - -"You 're a brave man," I said. But he did not seem to hear. - -"What vexes me," said he, "is to think that Miss Pinkerton may have -heard this yarn and placed credence in it." - -The entrance of the sheriff, with a serious face, put an end to the -conversation then. - -"Well," said Apache Kid, "what do you think?" - -"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." - -"Water?" said Apache Kid. - -"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?" - -"Yes." - -"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. - -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. - -"The horses!" the sheriff cried; but the Indian had already gone. "How -about yours, young feller?" - -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. - -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. - -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?--_lay_ 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. - -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. - -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." - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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: - -"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." - -"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." - -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: - -"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." - -"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." - -"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. - -Apache Kid laughed. - -"I suppose Sheriff Carson's expression of faith would soon enough get up -a syndicate to work it!" - -"I would n't just say no," said the sheriff. - -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. - -"Stage-route nothing!" he said. "Railroad you mean, spur-line clear to -Carson City." - -"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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - - - - - *CHAPTER XXIII* - - _*The Sheriff Changes His Opinion*_ - - -It was a good two hours after the departure of Slim. - -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. - -"By the way," said Apache Kid, "do you know if Miss Pinkerton herself -has heard of this accusation against me?" - -"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." - -The implication was amusing. - -"Ah, yes, of course," said Apache Kid. "You act so promptly, always, -Sheriff." - -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." - -"That's seven," said Apache Kid. - -"Seven?" said the Sheriff, sharply, rising to his feet; "and no waggon?" - -"No." - -"I reckon this is a deppitation," said the sheriff, as he glared -down-hill. - -"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?" - -"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. - -"Pity about them guns and shells being lost," said the sheriff, and then -he sung out: - -"Halt right there and talk. What you want?" - -One man moved his horse a step or two ahead of the others, who had -reined in. - -"We want that man you have there," said he. - -"Halt right there," said the sheriff again; and then he remarked to -Apache: - -"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." - -"I 'd rather go down----" - -"Halt right there!" roared the sheriff. - -"--and prove myself innocent of the charge," Apache ended. - -"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. - -"Well, gentlemen," he said. "I reckon you's all aware that you are -buttin' up ag'in law and order," he began. - -"Law is gettin' kind of tender-hearted," replied one of the newcomers. -"We want to see justice done." - -"I don't seem to know your face," said the sheriff. - -"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." - -"I don't know 'em," said the sheriff to Apache Kid. - -"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." - -"What about Farrell?" said the sheriff. "You did n't tell me." - -"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. - -"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." - -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. - -"See here," cried the spokesman of the party, "jest you throw up your -hands, the lot of you or----" - -"Or what?" said the sheriff. - -"Or we come and take him." - -"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." - -Apache hummed in the air. - -"That's just their objection," said he, softly. - -"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." - -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. - -"Anybody hit here?" said the sheriff. "Nobody! Guess they don't want to -hit you, Apache Kid." - -"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. - -"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." - -"I hope to have the opportunity, at least," said Apache, grimly, "to -satisfy your curiosity." - -"Look up! Here they come again," the sheriff interjected. - -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. - -"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!" - -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. - -Next moment they were past--four of them. - -"If them four fellows come again," said the Indian, "my name Dennis." - -I wondered how Apache Kid could titter at this remark. - -I thought perhaps that it was half excitement that caused the laugh. It -was not that exactly, however. It was something else. - -"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. - -"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." - -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. - -"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." - -Apache Kid tittered again. - -"You need n't just tell them it's your own blood you are thinking of, -Sheriff." - -"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. - -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. - -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. - -"Well, Sheriff," he said. "I hope this convinces you of my innocence." - -"What?" asked the sheriff, a little pucker at the eyes. - -Apache handed him back the revolver that he had received at the -beginning of the fight. - -"That!" said he. - -The sheriff looked at the chambers which Apache Kid's finger indicated -with dignified triumph. - -"Two shells that you did n't fire!" said the sheriff. "What does that -show?" - -"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." - -The sheriff smiled grimly. - -"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." - -Apache looked with admiration on the sheriff. - -"Diamond cut diamond," he said, and laughed; and then said he: "And have -I to apologise for keeping my two shells?" - -"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." - -"We begin to understand each other," said Apache. - -"I don't know about understand," said the sheriff. "But I sure am -getting a higher opinion of you than I had before." - - - - - *CHAPTER XXIV* - - _*For Fear of Judge Lynch*_ - - -The 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. - -On either side of it two men rode on dark horses. The sheriff signed to -the cortege to stop, and by the time that we had descended to this party -the waggon was turned about. - -"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?" - -"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----" - -Apache said to me at that: "Remind me to tell you what he means--about -the violinist." - -"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." - -"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." - -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--_grand army_ or something--all the way from -Paris." - -The sheriff gloated on this. - -"That would tighten him up some," said he. - -"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. - -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. - -"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." - -"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. - -"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 _muckers_ 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." - -But we were jolting well down-hill now and soon caught glimpses of Baker -City between the trees. - -"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." - -"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!" - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -The sheriff had expected to find the city enraged at us, anxious to do -"justice" in a summary fashion. - -This cheering must have puzzled him. It certainly puzzled us. - - - - - *CHAPTER XXV* - - _*The Making of a Public Hero*_ - - -An 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. - -"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." - -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. - -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?" - -"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." - -"With pleasure," said Apache Kid. "It is an honour to me to shake hands -with you, Colonel." - -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: - -"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----" - -It was then that the sheriff came slowly down the three steps into the -square. - -"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." - -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." - -He swung his leg leisurely over on to the tire of the wheel, stepped -daintily on to the hub, and leaped to the ground. - -"At your service, Sheriff," said he, and I followed him. - -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. - -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. - -We stood like shamed, heart-broken culprits before her; and I know that -my heart bled for her. - -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. - -"Tell me," she said. "Charlie has told me--in his way. Oh! It is a -hard, bitter story, as it comes from him." - -"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." - -Her hungering eyes looked squarely on him, but she spoke not a word. - -"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." - -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!" - -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: - -"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----" - -"Oh!" she cried, "but I--I--it was I who bade him follow you." - -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: - -"Your name was the last on his lips." - -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. - -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. - -"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." - -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: - -"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: - -"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." - -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. - -"She hes told you, I guess," said he, "that the case is off." - -Apache shook his head. - -"Pshaw!" said the sheriff. "What she want with you?" - -"To hear how Mr. Pinkerton died." - -"But she knew." - -"Yes," said Apache Kid, "as a savage saw it." - -The sheriff puckered his heavy mouth and raised his eyes. - -"Sure!" said he. "That's what. Pretty coarse, I guess. You would kind -o' put the limelight on the scene." - -"Sir, sir!" said Apache Kid. "We have just come from her." - -"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 _feel_ 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." - -"Then I am free?" - -"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." - -"But how did you know what way to come for us?" asked Apache Kid. - -"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." - -Apache Kid nodded. - -"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." - -"Ah!" said Apache Kid. - -"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." - -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. - -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. - -"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." - -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. - -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." - -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 _got it_--to use (as Apache Kid would say) the phraseology of -the country. - - - - - *CHAPTER XXVI* - - _*Apache Kid Makes a Speech*_ - - -There was a good deal of the spirit of Coriolanus in Apache Kid, and he -knew the worth of all this laudation. - -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: - -"What's the matter with Apache Kid?--He's all right!" - -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. - -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." - -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. - -"If it is not," said he, "it should be." - -I think the majority took this for humour and they laughed and wagged -their heads and looked up smiling, for more. - -"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." - -They gave vent to a bellow of pleasure and some cried out again: -"Farrell! Farrell! Tell us about Farrell." - -"I must appeal to the sense of propriety," he said, "for which our -western country is famous. In the West we are all gentlemen." - -There was a cry of: "That's what!" - -"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." - -There was a slight murmur at this. - -"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." - -He paused a moment and then continued in another tone: - -"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." - -A great cheer followed this. - -Apache Kid cleared his throat. - -"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." - -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: - -"I bear you no ill will." - -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. - -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. - -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 Doreesque 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. - -My brain was in a whirl, and I heard the sheriff say: - -"That boy is sick looking." - -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. - -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. - -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. - -"Heavens!" I cried, "I am haunted yet by this." - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - - - - - *CHAPTER XXVII* - - _*The Beginning of the End*_ - - -I 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. - -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. - -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. - -"I have done nothing about it yet," said he. "I thought it advisable -for us to go together to the bank." - -I looked my surprise, I suppose. - -"Then you have no idea what it amounts to yet?" I asked. - -"No," said he. "You know it will neither increase nor diminish with -waiting." - -"But why did you wait?" - -"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." - -"You don't seem anxious, even, to know what you are really worth." - -"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." - -But there fell a shadow on his face then. - -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. - -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. - -"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." - -I felt my own cheeks tingle to think that I had been raving such ravings -as he hinted at. - -"And did Mrs. Laughlin----" I began. - -But Mrs. Laughlin herself replied, coming quietly into the room. - -"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'----" - -"Madam----" began Apache Kid, in a courteous voice, but she would not -permit him to speak. - -"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." - -It was, to me, an unlooked-for comment, for her manner was almost -belligerent. - -"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." - -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. - -"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." - -"I am afraid I don't follow you," said Apache Kid. - -"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!" - -She paused, and then shaking her finger again remarked solemnly: - -"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. - -"To win your sorrow, Mrs. Laughlin," said he, looking on her solemnly, -"would be a desirable thing." - -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." - -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. - -Apache Kid looked her in the face with interested eyes. - -"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." - -"Would you have had me?" she said. - -"I would perhaps have failed to know you possessed all these qualities -you do, for you would never have shown them to me." - -"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----" - -"Mrs. Laughlin!" he said. "I would not have expected this----" - -"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." - -"Laughlin has certainly a jewel of a wife," said Apache Kid, after she -departed, and that was all on the matter. - -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. - -The horse, I heard then, had been returned to the livery stable from -which Canlan had hired it. - -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. - -"If you want to do the square thing," said he, "you ought to advertise -for her." - -Apache turned to me. - -"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!" - -He opened the paper and pointed to his announcement for relatives of J. -E. Jackson. - -"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." - -The sheriff held out his hand. - -"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." - -Apache Kid took the proffered hand and shook it; but he showed me deeper -into himself again when he said in a dry voice: - -"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." - -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. - -"One grows weary of patronage," said Apache Kid to me as we plodded -along the deserted streets to the bank. - -"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. - -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 _boom_, with megaphones in every window and -cigar smoke curling in the streets, but it will not _languish_. - -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. - -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. - -"Grand total," said he, and paused to awaken the thrill of suspense, -"forty thousand dollars." - -"Forty thousand dollars," thought I, "and fifteen hundred in notes, that -makes forty-one thousand five hundred." - -"A mere flea-bite," Apache said. - -"I beg your pardon?" said the teller, astonished. - -"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?" - -"A bagful?" said the teller. - -Apache nodded. - -"Do you wish to dispose of some of these, too?" the teller asked. - -"No, thanks," said Apache Kid. "They go to an eastern market." - -"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. - -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. - - - - - *CHAPTER XXVIII* - - _*Apache Kid Behaves Strangely at the Half-Way - House to Kettle*_ - - -You hear people talk of the _Autumn feeling in the air_. Well, the -Autumn feeling was in the air as we drove down through the rolling -foothills to the Half-Way House. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -"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." - -George nodded to us. - -"I guess these names will serve," said he. "How do, gentlemen? Kind of -close this eve." - -"It is, indeed," said Apache Kid. "The Summer is ended, the harvest is -past," he quoted. - -"Yes," said George, "there is that feeling in the air, now." - -"As if the end of all things was at hand," said Apache Kid. - -He was looking George right in the eyes. - -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. - -"You will want a wash before you eat," she said, ushering us in, and -George nodded, and, "See you later," said he. - -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. - -"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?" - -"Yes," she said, "I was telling George what pop had said." - -Apache's eyebrows frowned a trifle, and then settled again. - -"Yes?" he said, as though requesting an explanation of what she meant by -this; but she remained silent. - -"O, I thought perhaps the gentleman had made some suggestion, when you -mentioned his name just now," said Apache Kid. - -But she did not yet reply, and he went on again: - -"Well, Miss Pinkerton, I may tell you that we failed to find any such -bonanza at the Lost Cabin as we had hoped for." - -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." - -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 _tampered with_. 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. - -"Excuse me interrupting," said George, in the doorway, "but I suppose -you have speciments o' this ore." - -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. - -"Ah!" he said, "I had not noticed you. So you are interested in----" he -paused, "in mines," he said. - -Margaret stiffened, and George said easily: - -"Well in this one I reckon I am." - -"Ah yes," said Apache Kid. "There has been of course a lot of talk -about it. Yes, I have specimens." - -He produced two pieces and handed them to George, and then turning to -Miss Pinkerton, he said: - -"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?" - -"Certainly," said she, coldly. - -He bowed. - -"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. - -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. - -George stared with a look of doubt. - -Margaret looked at Apache Kid keenly and then at George for a long -space, thoughtfully. - -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. - -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. - -"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." - -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. - -How George took all this I do not know; for I was looking on the girl. - -"O!" she said, her voice quavering. "O, I think you are just _all -right_." - -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: - -"What game is this you are playing?" - -Apache Kid turned to him. "Be guided," he said, "by a woman's -intuition. You saw that she knew I was playing no game." - -And then he said very quietly: "Are you aware, George, that if I wished -I could steal her away from you?" - -The breath sucked into George's nostrils in a series of little gasps and -came forth similarly. - -"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." - -"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?" - -George's face was pale under the sun-brown. - -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. - -"You want to buy a horse?" he asked. - -Apache Kid looked up. - -"Well, we might trade," said he. "How much you want for them two, this -and that?" - -"Heap cheap," said the Indian. "Ten dollah." - -"For two?" - -"No, ten dollah for one, ten dollah for one." - -"It's a trade then," said Apache Kid. "Will you lend me twenty dollars, -Francis?" - -I glanced at George and saw him looking dazed, uncomprehending. - -I think the Indian was surprised there was no attempt to beat down the -price and regretted he had not asked more. - -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. - -"What is his game?" said George. - -"I do not know," said I, "but whatever it is you may be sure it is -nothing mean." - -George meditated and then: - -"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?" - -"No," said I. - -"Neither will I, then," said he, "and I guess he never will." - -"I would n't think of asking him," said I. - -"And he would n't think of telling," replied George. - -And just then Apache Kid came out and Miss Pinkerton with him. I think -it was as well that the verandah was in shadow. - -"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?" - -"Ce't'inly," said George; and away he went to rout out the saddles. - -I could not understand Margaret's next remark. - -"If they do come down after you," said she, "I 'll tell them----" - -"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." - -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. - -Margaret held up her hand. - -"Good-bye," she said. - -"Good-bye, Miss Pinkerton," said Apache Kid. - -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. - -She shook hands with me. - -"If ever you are in them parts again," she said, "don't forget us; but -you 'll have to ask for Mrs. Brooks then." - -Apache was holding out his hand to George, who took it quickly, with -averted face. - -"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." - -George seemed nonplussed. - -"This," said he, "is real good of you, sir; but I don't know what you do -it for." - -"O!" said Apache Kid. "I told you I had n't much faith in its value, -you remember." - -"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. - -"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. - -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. - -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. - -"What does this mean?" I said. - -But Apache Kid did not answer, and we rode on and on in silence while -the evening darkened on the road to Camp Kettle. - -But the look on Apache Kid's face forbade question. - - - - - *CHAPTER XXIX* - - _*So-Long*_ - - -You 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. - -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. - -"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." - -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. - -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. - -Apache threw off his coat and blew out a deep breath. - -"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." - -"How?" I asked, for he had paused. - -"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.'" - -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. - -"And he came, didn't he?" he added. "My poodle dog! - -"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." - -So we put out the light and turned in. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -"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." - -"Oh, nonsense!" said I. - -"Deducting what you have lent me," he repeated. "Twenty dollars at the -Half-Way House and fifty at Camp Kettle. That makes seventy." - -"You will need some more," said I. - -"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." - -But looking up and catching my eye looking sadly on him he smiled and: -"Humour me," he said, "humour me in this." - -When the letter was written he handed it to me, open, and said: - -"Well, that is all, I think, until we hear the east-bound whistle." - -My heart was in my mouth. - -"That other matter?" I said. - -"What other?" said he. - -"You wanted me to do something for you in the old country." - -"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?" - -"I promise," said I. - -"You can write to--let me see--say, where shall I go now?--say Santa -Fe--to be called for." - -"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: - -"I can never go home." - -We went out into the air and sat silent till the east-bound whistled and -whistled and screamed nearer and nearer. - -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. - -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. - -"But you----" I began, and he held up his hand. - -"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?" - -I nodded. - -"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." - -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. - -And then the train whistled at the last curve, shot into sight, and came -thundering and screaming into the depot. - -"Oh! Apache Kid," said I, "I cannot go to-day. I must wait till -to-morrow." - -"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.'" - -"Ah, then," said I, "I will go with this one; for I could not stand the -loneliness here with you flying away from me." - -"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. - -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!" - -Apache Kid snatched my hand. - -"Well," said he, "in the language of the country--so-long!" - -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. - -So the last I really saw of Apache Kid was his lurching shoulder as he -passed out of the swinging car. - - - - - *CHAPTER XXX* - - _*And Last*_ - - -It 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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - - * * * * * - -Two items still remain to be told. - -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?" - -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. - -"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." - -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: - -"Do you know how your friend came by these?" - -"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. - -He smiled. - -"Quite right," said he. "And did you leave your friend well?" he asked, -smiling on me in a fatherly fashion. - -"In the best of health," I said. - -"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." - -"No, he did not say," I replied. - -"Ah! Doubtless I shall hear of him when he thinks necessary," and he -bowed me out and shook hands with me at the door. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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-cafes 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: - -"She is a sweet girl, but do not stare; you have lost your manners in -America!" - -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. - -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. - -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. - - - - - - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LOST CABIN MINE *** - - - - -A Word from Project Gutenberg - - -We will update this book if we find any errors. - -This book can be found under: http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/43975 - -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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